The army of Central Spain, in contrast to the Catalan army, was always led by officers of the old Spanish army who sided with the Republicans. Such are Miaja, Casado and Menéndez

Leopoldo Menéndez López, former officer of the Spanish army who joined the Republicans and rose to the rank of general after excelling in the Battle of Teruel.

(head of the Army of the Levante). Barely any of the top positions were taken by commanders from the masses, like Modesto or Líster. The commissars attached to the old officers were often not up to the mark. For instance, the communists Antón

Francisco Antón, Spanish communist and NKVD agent, and lover of ‘La Pasionaria’.

and Hernández

Jesus Hernández, communist minister of education in the Republican government, 1936–38; head of the war commissars in the Central Zone, 1938–39.

were Miaja’s commissars at various times – things went well under them and Miaja stood firm – but there was a rather long period when Miaja’s commissar was a socialist from Caballero’s faction (I’ve forgotten his name) and that resulted in a quite different picture. Miaja himself is nothing to write home about. Fate played an unusual trick on him. When Caballero’s government abandoned Madrid on 6 November 1936, believing it was no longer possible to save it from Franco’s onslaught, someone had to be left behind to hand the city over to the enemy. Miaja was chosen to perform this rather unheroic role. But a miracle happened: Madrid withstood, and Miaja – to his own surprise and that of the government – became a national hero overnight. The government had to take this fact into account and exploit it in the interests of their struggle: his reputation was supported quite deliberately thereafter. This, however, did not make Miaja any more brilliant. Neither did he become a communist, although at one time he did align himself with the Communist Party and it was even rumoured that he had formally joined its ranks. These circumstances explain much of what has happened in the past two to three weeks.

When Negrín and del Vayo flew into Central Spain from France, the army’s top brass had already begun to disintegrate. Instead of immediately making their base in Madrid and gathering loyal units (of which there were quite a few) around the government, Negrín began tearing about the country in a frenzy, travelling to one town after another. This had the benefit of raising Republican morale everywhere, but it also had a crucial flaw: the government failed to establish a strong base for itself anywhere. Negrín obviously overestimated his authority and underestimated the imminent danger. An open pro-Franco mutiny broke out in Cartagena, where unrest had long been brewing in the navy. The mutiny was quelled with great difficulty, after which almost the entire navy left for Bizerta.

The critical moment came on 5 March. Negrín, del Vayo and several other members of government were temporarily based in Elda, a small village near Alicante. Why and how Elda had become the ‘capital’ is unknown to Azcárate’s son. On the morning of 5 March, Negrín began summoning the ministers who had remained in Madrid, as well as the top brass – Miaja, who was in Valencia, Casado, who was in Madrid, and chief of staff Matallana,

General Manuel Matallana (Gómez), republican commander in the Civil War who sided with Casado in March 1939 in an attempt to reach a separate peace with Franco.

who was with the Army of the Levante – to Elda for a conference. At first, the ministers in Madrid insisted that Negrín and his companions should come to Madrid and hold the conference there. Negrín, however, had already received reports about the perilous situation in the capital and refused to go there, suspecting an ambush. Eventually, all the ministers left in Madrid went to Elda.

The military presented a greater problem. Miaja found various pretexts to put off his journey to Elda till the next day. Casado bluntly stated that the situation in Madrid did not allow him to attend the conference. Matallana alone came to Elda, but he was very agitated and itching to go back to the Army of the Levante. The negotiations with the army leaders lasted throughout 5 March, and at midnight Casado notified Negrín by phone from Madrid that the Negrín government no longer existed and that he, Casado, had taken power into his own hands. Negrín was shaken and at first would not believe it. ‘I’m relieving you of your duties!’ he shouted down the phone. ‘Just you try!’ Casado laughed in return. The minister of the interior wrested the receiver from Negrín’s hand and tried to persuade Casado not to take the fatal step, but to no avail.

The commander of the Army of the Levante, Menéndez, phoned at about two in the morning. He demanded that Matallana should immediately return, threatening that otherwise he would come right away to Elda with troops to ‘liberate’ him. The government interpreted this to mean that it was being threatened with arrest. It was only then that Negrín began to reckon up the forces he could rely on and discovered to his horror that he had a mere 150 guards at his disposal. Matallana was promptly released and allowed to return to his headquarters. Fearing that as soon as Matallana arrived, Menéndez would come to Elda to arrest them, the ministers left the place at once and headed for the nearest airport, where the air force commander (a communist) had promised to have planes ready for them. However, for reasons unknown, not a single plane was to be found at the airport. So Negrín left all the ministers to wait for him there and, accompanied by del Vayo and Azcárate’s son, headed for the nearest airport 30 kilometres away, where he hoped to find aircraft.

The road to the other airport passed a village where a meeting was being held of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Spain, including Pasionaria,

Isidora Dolores Ibárruri Gómez, known as ‘La Pasionaria’ (the Passionflower) – was a Republican heroine in the Spanish Civil War.

Modesto, Líster and others. Azcárate’s son asked Negrín to leave him there. But Negrín decided to meet the communists himself. He spoke at the Central Committee meeting, after which there was a long discussion of what was to be done. It was eventually decided that Negrín should make a last attempt to come to terms with Casado. Negrín immediately sent an appeal to Madrid for the popular front not to be split and to unite anew in the struggle against Franco. He then waited for a response from Casado, but none came. News came from the first airport that two planes had landed there. The ministers urged Negrín to go, fearing he might miss the opportunity to fly to France, but Negrín continued to wait for a reply from Madrid. This situation continued until 2 p.m. on 6 March. Still no reply. In the meantime it transpired that the telephone lines connecting the village with the outside world had been cut. To sit still, doing nothing, had become useless and dangerous. So Negrín and del Vayo left for the airport, where they joined other ministers and flew to France. Azcárate’s son wanted to stay with the Central Committee, but the CC advised him not to tarry but to go abroad with del Vayo. Which he did.

In the evening of the same day the communist leaders, including Pasionaria, Modesto, Líster and other members of the CC, flew off to France, some of them directly and some via Algeria.

Such are the facts narrated to me by Azcárate’s son. I record them, but I admit that much remains unclear to me. In particular, I fail to understand how, at a critical moment, both Negrín and the Central Committee of the Communist Party found themselves as ‘refugees’, without any armed forces at their disposal, even though, as the events of the last days in Madrid showed, there were many people in the army of the Centre who were ready to die for the cause of the Republic.

Future developments will, I’m sure, solve this riddle.

[In his speech to the 18th Party Congress, on 10 March, Stalin had defended Russia’s isolation and urged the party ‘to be cautious and not allow Soviet Russia to be drawn into conflicts by warmongers who are accustomed to have others pull the chestnuts out of the fire’. Here Stalin had appropriated the metaphor employed by Maisky a couple of months earlier,

See diary entry for 11 October 1938.

warning that Russia would not ‘pull the chestnuts from the fire’ for France and Britain. Maisky’s metaphor had become so fashionable that, as the historian Lukacs shows, it was appropriated by Hitler three weeks later, warning that ‘Anyone who declares himself to be ready to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for the Great Powers must be aware that he might burn his fingers in the process.’

J. Lukacs, June 1941: Hitler and Stalin (New Haven, 2006), pp. 51–2.

]