General Escobar's War: A Novel of the Spanish Civil War by José Luis Olaizola

Author:José Luis Olaizola [Olaizola, José Luis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Spiritual & Religion
ISBN: 9781681497280
Publisher: Ignatius Press
Published: 2016-11-10T06:00:00+00:00

My first impression of Barcelona was positive. I was amazed to see a city that, though it was going through a war, didn’t look it. I had been bone-cold, and I found myself in the middle of a balmy spring. It was February. People were walking the streets and sitting on the terraces of the rambla with no fear of sirens announcing air raids, and even the workers were dressed as they normally would be, coming and going to work. I did see many anarcho-syndicalists, with their emblems, their belts, and their arms, but it seemed to me there were fewer of them, and they were less obtrusive, than the ones in the war zone I was coming from.

General Aranguren warned me, “Don’t kid yourself, Escobar. Things are just where you left them: in the Plaza de Cataluña.”

They had promoted my former general to the command of the Catalonia Division, and when I arrived in Barcelona I was one of the first people to congratulate him. General Aranguren had the usual distant air about him that at first gave an impression of aloofness to people who didn’t know him well. For example, I didn’t understand the comment I just recorded, and when my reaction showed that I didn’t, he made a gesture of despair as if it wasn’t worth explaining such a complicated subject to a front-line soldier who was good for fighting and not much else. If you could wait, though, he would end up explaining.

“Look, Escobar, what I’m saying is that they’re still fighting in the Plaza de Cataluña, using posters now instead of guns. But from words they’ll move on to deeds, don’t you think?”

Only a fool would treat those words lightly, and I was that fool.

“Maybe not, General.”

“Maybe so, Colonel. By the way, when are you going to make general?”

“In the auxiliary services?”

“What do you mean?”

“My left arm bothers me a lot, sir. There are days when I can barely move it.”

“And does it hurt you?”

He asked it with all the concern and affection of an old friend. I just nodded. I don’t know why, but I didn’t usually admit to people that my arm gave me insufferable pain, which could keep me awake all night.

“What a problem pain is,” the general said mournfully.

I’m so reluctant to have people feel sorry for me that I went back to the earlier subject. “General, who are the people that are going to go from words to weapons?”

He looked very thoughtful, as though he was going to tell me a secret.

“Listen, Escobar, every self-important jerk’s been calling me tu for months, and here you are, still calling me ‘Your Excellency’. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped using titles?”

“I wouldn’t think of it, General. And now less than ever.”

I said it so abruptly that the general was disconcerted. So to prevent him from misinterpreting it, I asked him, “Do you think we’re any the less friends because I maintain due respect?”

“Not at all, Escobar, call me whatever you want.” He smiled at me agreeably.

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