A Touch from the Past
When I visited Astorga and León last month I had the great good luck of being directed to one of the spots I could find more information on my grandfather. Yesterday, the photocopies of his prison record arrived by mail.
How strange to see that old-fashioned handwriting that wrote down all the incidences boldly stated; his arrival, the reason for his incarceration, his sentence, statements he was made to swear to. I had thought all of it would be typewritten. But no, in those days, despite the amount of prisoners rounded up by the Frente Nacional in their rebellion against the established government, the prison books were still books and still handwritten.
On the 27th of July, 1937, he was sentenced to twenty years by the military tribunal set up in Santiago de Compostela soon after the outbreak of the Civil War. The official crime was "rebelión militar," "military rebellion." It is completely ironic that a military tribunal set up by rebellious army commanders against a government voted for by Spanish citizens should sentence someone to jail for "military rebellion." In the summary of his trial that was included in the prison documents the sentence is more detailed. He is described as "...elemento marxista, calificado de peligroso,....intervino en el movimiento revolucionario ayudando a los revoltosos..." (...marxist element, classified as dangerous,....intervened in the revolutionary movement helping the rebellious...).
All throughout the documents are little reminders of what the Nationalists believed in. "¡Viva España!", "III Año Triunfal", "Saludos a Franco" are all reminiscent of a nationalist belief in a unified Spain under one Leader. And of punishing those who think differently. And they were punished.
My grandfather was lucky. His twenty years were later reduced to almost four, and he was sent home in 1941. Many others spent out their time in work brigades. Since there were so many political prisoners, and it was expensive to feed and house them, work brigades were set up and prisoners had the "right" to work and be paid. They were paid two pesetas daily. One and a half went to the jail for their upkeep. The remaining fifty céntimos they could send home to keep the family slowly starving.
They were set to work in different areas, doing different things. Some constructed new roads, others repaired those damaged by battles. Railroad lines were also constructed and repaired. Some of the more unlucky prisoners were sent to the iron mines in Vizcaya. Others were set to remove rubble and rebuild towns. Later, many public works were carried out by these Batallones de Trabajo. The most famous monument they were forced to build is the Valle de los Caídos, outside Madrid, where Franco is buried in an enormous mausoleum carved into the rock of the mountainside. The last Batallón was dissolved in 1970.
But my grandfather did endure the vicissitudes of prison life during the Civil War. Lack of beds, lack of hygiene, cold in winter, heat in summer, indoctrination, and badly cooked food with the only protein coming from the bugs that invaded the rotten cabbages and potatoes they were given.
My grandfather didn't enjoy his freedom for very long. In 1947, he had an accident while riding his bicycle home. He fell and broke his neck. He left behind three children, one with an old girlfriend (my grandmother) and two with his wife, whom he married soon after my father was born. He is buried in the graveyard of the parish church in Bealo, in the township of Boiro, about fifteen kilometers from here. He was lucky to have survived the war and his incarceration, but Fate decided his luck shouldn't stretch any further.
He was just one of millions who suffered for their ideas in the convulsive Europe that we seem to want to forget and bury. But it was only eighty years ago. Like my daughter has said, that was just yesterday.
How strange to see that old-fashioned handwriting that wrote down all the incidences boldly stated; his arrival, the reason for his incarceration, his sentence, statements he was made to swear to. I had thought all of it would be typewritten. But no, in those days, despite the amount of prisoners rounded up by the Frente Nacional in their rebellion against the established government, the prison books were still books and still handwritten.
On the 27th of July, 1937, he was sentenced to twenty years by the military tribunal set up in Santiago de Compostela soon after the outbreak of the Civil War. The official crime was "rebelión militar," "military rebellion." It is completely ironic that a military tribunal set up by rebellious army commanders against a government voted for by Spanish citizens should sentence someone to jail for "military rebellion." In the summary of his trial that was included in the prison documents the sentence is more detailed. He is described as "...elemento marxista, calificado de peligroso,....intervino en el movimiento revolucionario ayudando a los revoltosos..." (...marxist element, classified as dangerous,....intervened in the revolutionary movement helping the rebellious...).
All throughout the documents are little reminders of what the Nationalists believed in. "¡Viva España!", "III Año Triunfal", "Saludos a Franco" are all reminiscent of a nationalist belief in a unified Spain under one Leader. And of punishing those who think differently. And they were punished. My grandfather was lucky. His twenty years were later reduced to almost four, and he was sent home in 1941. Many others spent out their time in work brigades. Since there were so many political prisoners, and it was expensive to feed and house them, work brigades were set up and prisoners had the "right" to work and be paid. They were paid two pesetas daily. One and a half went to the jail for their upkeep. The remaining fifty céntimos they could send home to keep the family slowly starving.
They were set to work in different areas, doing different things. Some constructed new roads, others repaired those damaged by battles. Railroad lines were also constructed and repaired. Some of the more unlucky prisoners were sent to the iron mines in Vizcaya. Others were set to remove rubble and rebuild towns. Later, many public works were carried out by these Batallones de Trabajo. The most famous monument they were forced to build is the Valle de los Caídos, outside Madrid, where Franco is buried in an enormous mausoleum carved into the rock of the mountainside. The last Batallón was dissolved in 1970. But my grandfather did endure the vicissitudes of prison life during the Civil War. Lack of beds, lack of hygiene, cold in winter, heat in summer, indoctrination, and badly cooked food with the only protein coming from the bugs that invaded the rotten cabbages and potatoes they were given.
My grandfather didn't enjoy his freedom for very long. In 1947, he had an accident while riding his bicycle home. He fell and broke his neck. He left behind three children, one with an old girlfriend (my grandmother) and two with his wife, whom he married soon after my father was born. He is buried in the graveyard of the parish church in Bealo, in the township of Boiro, about fifteen kilometers from here. He was lucky to have survived the war and his incarceration, but Fate decided his luck shouldn't stretch any further.
He was just one of millions who suffered for their ideas in the convulsive Europe that we seem to want to forget and bury. But it was only eighty years ago. Like my daughter has said, that was just yesterday.
 | |
| Prisons had post cards prisoners could buy to correspond with their families. All had Nationalist exaltations. All were heavily censored. |
Comments
Post a Comment