Franco

In the kaleidoscopic confusion of rapid economic growth, social dislocation, regionalist agitations and a bourgeois reform movement, the military was to play an active and contradictory role. The discontent of the Basque and Catalan industrialists had already caused them to challenge the Spanish establishment by sponsoring regionalist movements which infuriated the profoundly centralist military mentality. Now the self-interested reforming zeal of industrialists determined to hold on to their war profits coincided with the more desperate bid for change from a proletariat impoverished by the war. Boom industries attracted rural labour to towns where the worst conditions of early capitalism prevailed. This was especially true of Asturias and the Basque Country. At the same time, massive exports created shortages, rocketing inflation and plummeting living standards. The Socialist trade union, the Unión General de Trabajadores (General Union of Workers) and the anarcho-syndicalist Confederation Nacional del Trabajo (National Confederation of Labour) were drawn together in the hope that a joint general strike might bring about free elections and then reform.66 While industrialists and workers pushed for change, middle-rank Army officers were protesting at low wages, antiquated promotion structures and political corruption. A bizarre and short-lived alliance was forged in part because of a misunderstanding about the political stance of the Army.

Military complaints were couched in the language of reform which had become fashionable after Spain’s loss of empire in 1898. Known as ‘Regenerationism’, it associated the defeat of 1898 with political corruption. Ultimately, ‘Regenerationism’ was open to exploitation by either the Right or the Left since among its advocates there were those who sought to sweep away the degenerate political system based on the power of local bosses or caciques by democratic reform and those who planned simply to destroy caciquismo by the authoritarian solution of ‘an iron surgeon’. However, in 1917 the officers who mouthed ‘Regenerationist’ cliches were acclaimed as the figureheads of a great national reform movement. For a brief moment, workers, capitalists and the military were united in the name of cleansing Spanish politics of the corruption of caciquismo. As things turned out, the great crisis of 1917 was not resolved by the successful establishment of a political system capable of permitting social adjustment but instead consolidated the power of the entrenched landed oligarchy.

Despite a rhetorical coincidence in their calls for reform, the ultimate interests of workers, industrialists and officers were contradictory and the existing system survived by skilfully exploiting these differences. The Prime Minister, the Conservative Eduardo Dato, conceded the officers’ economic demands. He then provoked a strike of Socialist railway workers in Valencia, forcing the UGT to act before the anarcho-syndicalist CNT was ready. Now at peace with the system, the Army was happy to defend it by crushing with excessive harshness the strike which broke out on 10 August 1917. In Asturias, where the strike was pacific, the military governor General Ricardo Burguete y Lana declared martial law on 13 August. He accused the strike organizers of being the paid agents of foreign powers. Announcing that he would hunt down the strikers ‘like wild beasts’, he sent columns of regular troops and Civil Guards into the mining valleys to cow the population. A curfew was imposed by a campaign of terror. The severity of Burguete’s response, with eighty dead, one hundred and fifty wounded and two thousand arrested of whom many were severely beaten and tortured, guaranteed the failure of the strike.67

One of the columns was under the command of the young Major Franco. Consisting of a company of the Regimiento del Rey, a machine-gun section from the Regimiento del Princípe and a detachment of Civil Guards, he played a significant role in re-establishing order after the strike. Indeed, the official historian of the Civil Guard referred to him as ‘the man responsible for restoring order’.68 Despite several allegations that his actions at this time established his reliability in the eyes of the local bourgeoisie, Franco himself claimed years later, before a huge audience of Asturian miners, that his column had seen no action.69 That seems unlikely but it is impossible to reconstruct now the exact role that he played in the repression. Certainly, his job was to protect the mines from sabotage and, within the terms of martial law, to pass judgement on cases of fighting between individual strikers and Civil Guards since the strike had been declared. Implausibly, in 1963, he told George Hills, then head of the BBC Spanish services, that the appalling conditions which he saw led him to start a huge programme of reading in sociology and economics.70 In contrast to Franco’s paternalist recollections, Manuel Llaneza, the moderate leader of the Asturian mineworkers union wrote at the time of the ‘odio africano’ (African hatred) that had been unleashed against the mining villages, in an orgy of rape, looting, beatings and torture.71

The growing hostility of many Army officers to the existing political system was intensified in the years following 1917 by the major campaign carried out by the Partido Socialista Obrero Español (the Spanish Socialist Workers Party) against the Moroccan war and by the indecision shown by successive governments. Army officers simply wanted to be given the resources and the liberty to elaborate policy without political hindrance. Successive governments, inhibited by ever greater popular hostility to the loss of life in Morocco, reduced material support and imposed an essentially defensive strategy upon the Army. In the eyes of the military high command, the hypocritical politicians were playing a double game, demanding of the soldiers cheap victories while remaining determined not to be seen sinking resources into a colonial war.72 Accordingly, instead of proceeding to the full-scale occupation of the Rif which the military regarded as the only proper solution, the Army was obliged to keep to the limited strategy of guarding important towns and the communications between them. Inevitably, the tribal guerrillas were able to attack the supply convoys, involving the military in a seemingly interminable war of attrition which they blamed on the civilian politicians. An effort to change the trend of events was made in August 1919 when, on the death of General Gómez Jordana, the prime minister, the Conde de Romanones, named the forty-six year-old General Dámaso Berenguer as High Commissioner for the Moroccan Protectorate. A brilliant officer with an outstanding record, Berenguer had risen to be Minister of War in November 1918.73

One of the difficulties faced by Berenguer was the ambition and jealousy of the military commander of Ceuta, General Manuel Fernández Silvestre. Although they liked and respected each other, and were both favourites of Alfonso XIII, their working relationship was complicated by the fact that Silvestre was two years older than Berenguer, had once been his commanding officer and outranked him, albeit by only one number, in the seniority list. That seniority, together with Silvestre’s personal friendship with the King, fuelled his tendency towards insubordination. There were major policy differences between them, Silvestre wanting an all-out showdown with the Moroccan tribes; Berenguer inclining towards a peaceful domination of the tribes by the skilful use of indigenous forces.74 Berenguer drew up a three year plan for the pacification of the zone. It aimed at the eventual linking of Ceuta and Melilla by land. The first part envisaged the conquest of the tribal territory to the east of Ceuta, known as Anyera, including the town of Alcazarseguir. This was to be followed by the domination of the Jibala with its two major towns, Tazarut and Xauen. With government approval, the plan was initiated with the occupation of Alcazarseguir on 21 March 1919. This led El Raisuni to retaliate with a campaign of attacks on Spanish supply convoys.

At this time, Franco was sufficiently removed from events in Morocco to have joined the Juntas de Defensa despite the fact that they advocated promotion by rigid seniority. It may be supposed that he did so without conviction and in response to the jealousy of junior officers, much older than himself, who had not served in Africa. After all, the Juntas’ policy, if generally applied, would remove the major incentive for officers to volunteer to serve in Morocco. Before Franco could get too involved in the concerns of the Peninsular Army, seeds of dramatic changes in his existence and in his future prospects had been sown on 28 September 1918, when he travelled from his unit in Oviedo to Valdemoro near Madrid. He remained there until 16 November taking part in an obligatory marksmanship course for majors. There he met Major José Millán Astray, a man thirteen years older than himself and about to be promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel. Renowned for his manic bravery and consequent serious injuries, Millán explained to Franco his ideas for creating special units of volunteers for Africa along the lines of the French Foreign Legion. Franco was excited by their discussions and impressed Millán Astray as a possible future collaborator.75

Franco returned to garrison duty in Oviedo where he remained throughout 1919 and for most of 1920. During that time, Millán Astray had presented his ideas to the then Minister of War, General Tovar. In his turn, Tovar had passed them on to the General Staff and Millán was sent to Algeria to observe the structure and tactics of the French Foreign Legion. After he returned, a royal order was published approving the principle of a foreign volunteer unit. Tovar was then replaced by General Villalba Riquelme who shelved the idea pending the more thorough-going reorganization of the African Army then being contemplated. In May 1920, Villalba was in turn replaced by the Vizconde de Eza who happened to hear Millán Astray lecture on the subject of the new unit at the Círculo Militar in Madrid. Eza was sufficiently convinced to authorize its recruitment.

In June 1920, Millán met Franco again in Madrid to offer him the job of second-in-command of the Spanish Legion. At first, given his now flourishing relationship with Carmen and the fact that Morocco seemed, for the moment at least, to be as quiet as mainland Spain, he was not particularly excited by the offer.76 However, after a brief hesitation, and faced with the prospect of kicking his heels interminably in Oviedo, he accepted. It was to be the beginning of a difficult period for Carmen Polo which was to show that she could match her husband in patience and determination. Speaking about the experience eight years later, she said ‘I had always dreamed that love would be an existence lit up by joy and laughter; but it brought me nothing but sadness and tears. The first tears that I shed as a woman were for him. When we were engaged, he had to leave me to go to Africa to organize the first bandera of the Legion. You can imagine my constant anxiety and unease, terribly intensified on the days that the newspapers talked about operations in Morocco or when his letters were delayed more than usual.’77

The Legion was formally established on 31 August 1920 under the name Tercio de Extranjeros (Tercio, or third, was the name used in the sixteenth century for regiments in the Army of Flanders which had been composed of three groups, pikemen, crossbowmen and arquebusiers). At its inception, it also had three banderas, (‘colours’ or ‘flags’) or battalions. Millán Astray disliked the name Tercio and always insisted on calling the new force ‘the Legion’, a name Franco also favoured. In the immediate aftermath of the First World War, there had been no problem recruiting volunteers. On 27 September 1920, Franco was named commander of its primera bandera (first battalion). Putting aside his plans for a life with Carmen Polo, he set off on the Algeciras ferry on 10 October 1920, accompanied by the first two hundred mercenaries, a motley band of desperados, misfits and outcasts, some tough and ruthless, others simply pathetic. They were hard cases, ranging from common criminals, via foreign First World War veterans who had been unable to adjust to peacetime, to the gunmen (pistoleros) who fought in the social war then tearing Barcelona apart. This short, slight, pallid twenty-eight year-old major, with his high-pitched voice, seemed poorly fitted to be able to command such a crew.

Millán Astray was obsessed with death and offered his new recruits little more than the chance to fight and die. The romantic notion that the Legion would offer its outcast recruits redemption through sacrifice, discipline, hardship, violence and death was held dear by both Millán and Franco throughout their lives. It underlies Franco’s diary of its first two years, Diario de una bandera, a curious mixture of sentimentalised Beau Geste-style adventure-story romanticism and cold insensitivity in the face of human bestiality. In his speech of welcome to the first recruits, a hysterical Millán told them that, as thieves and murderers, their lives had been at an end before joining the Legion. Inspired by a frenzied and contagious fervour, he offered them a new life but the price to be paid would be their deaths. He called them ‘los novios de la muerte’ (the bridegrooms of death).78 They gave the Legion a mentality of brutal ruthlessness which Franco was to share to the full even though he remained outwardly reserved. Discipline was savage. Men could be shot for desertion and for even minor infractions of discipline.79 Throughout the time that he was second-in-command to Millán Astray, Franco never wavered in his obedience, discipline and loyalty, although the temptation to contradict his manic commander must have been considerable.80

On the night of their arrival in Ceuta, the legionaries terrorised the town. A prostitute and a corporal of the guard were murdered. In the course of chasing the culprits, there were two more deaths.81 Franco was obliged to take the primera bandera to Dar Riffien, where an old arch was rebuilt with the inscription ‘Legionarios a luchar; legionarios a morir’ (Legionaries onward to fight; Legionaries onward to die’). They had arrived in Africa at a difficult moment. Berenguer had proceeded to the second stage of his grand plan for the occupation of the Spanish zone. On 14 October 1920, El Raisuni’s headquarters, the picturesque mountain town of Xauen, had been occupied by Spanish troops. To the Moors, Xauen was ‘the Sacred City’ or ‘the mysterious’. Tucked into a deep gorge, the historic fortified redoubt of Xauen was theoretically unconquerable. Its capture was an almost bloodless triumph thanks to the military Arabist, Colonel Alberto Castro Girona, who had entered the city disguised as a Moorish charcoal burner and, by a mixture of threats and bribes, persuaded the notables to surrender.82 However, since the marauding tribes between Xauen and Tetuán were not subdued, an expensive policing operation had now to be undertaken. Within a week of arriving, Franco’s legionaries were sent to Uad Lau to guard the road to Xauen.

Franco would soon be joined by his eternal cronies, his cousin Pacón, and Camilo Alonso Vega. He charged Alonso Vega with creating a battalion farm to provide funds to permit decent provisioning and the building of better barracks. The farm was a great success, not only providing fresh meat and vegetables for the troops but also making a profit. Similarly, Franco made the arrangements for a permanent fresh water supply from the nearby mountains to Dar-Riffien.83 It was typical of his methodical and thoughtful approach to the practicalities of both camp life and hostilities against the Moors. His concerns were narrowly military. Encased in the shell of his public persona, he apparently shared few of the feelings and appetites of his comrades, becoming known as the man without fear, women or masses, (‘sin miedo, sin mujeres, y sin misa’). With no interests or vices other than his career, his study of terrain, map work and general preparations for action made the units at his command stand out in an Army notorious for indiscipline, inefficiency and low morale.

In addition, in the Legion, Franco was to show a merciless readiness to impose his power over men physically bigger and harder than himself, compensating for his size with an unnerving coldness. Despite fierce discipline in other matters, no limits were put by Millán Astray or by Franco on the atrocities which were committed against the Moorish villages which they attacked. The decapitation of prisoners and the exhibition of severed heads as trophies was not uncommon. The Duquesa de la Victoria, a philanthropist who organized a team of volunteer nurses, would receive in 1922 a tribute from the Legion. She was given a basket of roses in the centre of which lay two severed Moorish heads.84 When the Dictator General Primo de Rivera visited Morocco in 1926, he was appalled to find one battalion of the Legion awaiting inspection with heads stuck on their bayonets.85 Indeed, Franco and other officers came to feel a fierce pride in the brutal violence of their men, revelling in their grim reputation. That notoriety was itself a useful weapon in keeping down the colonial population and its efficacy taught Franco much about the exemplary function of terror. In his Diario de una bandera, he adopted a tone of benevolent paternalism about the savage antics of his men.86 In Africa, as later in the Peninsula during the Civil War, he condoned the killing and mutilation of prisoners. There can be little doubt that the years of early manhood spent amidst the inhuman savagery of the Legion contributed to the dehumanizing of Franco. It is impossible to say whether he arrived in Africa already so cut off from normal emotional responses as to be untouched by the pitiless brutality which surrounded him. When Franco had been in the Regulares, a somewhat older officer, Gonzalo Queipo de Llano, was struck with the imperturbability and satisfaction with which he presided over the cruel beatings to which Moorish troops were subjected in punishment for minor misdemeanours.87 The ease with which he now became accustomed to the bestiality of his troops certainly suggests a lack of sensitivity bordering on inner emptiness. That would account for the unflinching, indeed insouciant, way he was able to use terror in the Civil War and the subsequent years of repression.

To survive and prosper in the Legion, the officers had to be as hard and ruthless as their men. At one point, preoccupied by a rash of indiscipline and desertions, Franco wrote to Millán Astray requesting permission to resort to the death penalty. Millán consulted with higher authorities and then told Franco that death sentences could be passed only within the strict rules laid down by the code of military justice. A few days later, a legionaire refused to eat his food and then threw it at an officer. Franco quietly ordered the battalion to form ranks, picked a firing squad, had the offending soldier shot, and then made the entire battalion file past the corpse. He informed Millán that he took full responsibility for an action which he regarded as a necessary and exemplary punishment to re-establish discipline.88 On another occasion, Franco was informed that two legionaires who had committed a robbery and then deserted had been captured. ‘Shoot them’, he ordered. In reply to a protest from Vicente Guarner, his one-time contemporary at the Toledo military academy who happened to be visiting the unit, Franco snapped ‘Shut up. You don’t realize what kind of people they are. If I didn’t act with an iron hand, this would soon be chaos.’89 According to one sergeant of the Legion, both men and officers were frightened of him and of the eery coldness which enabled him to have men shot without batting an eyelid. ‘You can be certain of getting everything that you have a right to, you can be sure that he knows where he’s taking you but as for how he treats you … God help you if there is anything missing from your equipment, or if your rifle is dirty or you are a loafer’.90

At the beginning of 1921, General Berenguer’s long-term scheme of slow occupation, fanning out from Ceuta, was prospering. At the same time, General Manuel Fernández Silvestre was engaged in a more ambitious, indeed reckless, campaign to advance from Melilla westwards to the bay of Alhucemas. On 17 February 1921, Silvestre had occupied Monte Arruit and was making plans to cross the Amekran River. Advancing into inaccessible and hostile territory, Silvestre’s success was more apparent than real. Abd-el-Krim, the aggressive new leader who had begun to impose his authority on the Berber tribes of the Rif, warned Silvestre that, if he crossed the Amekran, the tribes would resist in force. Silvestre just laughed.91 However, Berenguer was satisfied that Silvestre had the situation under control and had decided to squeeze El Raisuni’s territory by capturing the Gomara mountains. The Legion was ordered to join the column of one of the outstanding officers in the Spanish Moroccan Army, Colonel Castro Girona. Their task was to help in the establishment of a continuous defensive line of blockhouses between Xauen and Uad Lau. When that line met the other which joined Xauen to Alcazarquivir, El Raisuni was surrounded. On 29 June 1921, the legionaries were in the vanguard of the force sent to assault El Raisuni’s headquarters.

However, before the attack was mounted, on 22 July 1921, one of the banderas of the Legion was ordered to proceed to Fondak without being given any reason. Lots were drawn and Franco’s bandera was selected. After an exhausting forced march, they arrived to be ordered to carry on to Tetuán and then to Ceuta. When they reached Tetuán, they heard rumours of a military disaster near Melilla. On arrival at Ceuta, the rumours were confirmed and they were put aboard the troop transport Ciudad de Cádiz and sent to Melilla.92 What they did not know was the scale of the disaster. General Fernández Silvestre had over-extended his lines across the Amekran towards the Bay of Alhucemas and suffered a monumental defeat at the hands of Abd-el-Krim. Known by the name of the village Annual, where it began, the defeat was in fact a rout which took place over a period of three weeks and rolled back the Spanish occupation to Melilla itself. As the Spanish troops fled, enthusiastic tribesmen joined the revolt. Garrison after garrison was slaughtered. The fragility and artificiality of the Spanish protectorate was brutally exposed. All of the gains of the last decade, five thousand square kilometres of barren scrub, won at the cost of huge sums of money and thousands of lives, disappeared in a matter of hours. There would be horrific massacres at outposts near Melilla, Dar Drius, Monte Arruit and Nador. Within a few weeks, nine thousand Spanish soldiers died. The tribesmen were on the outskirts of a panic-stricken Melilla yet, too preoccupied with looting, they failed to capture it, unaware that the town was virtually undefended.93

At that point, reinforcements arrived, among them Franco and his men who reached Melilla on 23 July 1921 and were given orders to defend the town at all costs.94 The Legion was used first to mount an immediate holding operation, then to consolidate the outer defences of Melilla to the south. From their defensive position in the hills outside the town, Franco could observe the siege of the last remnants of the garrison at the village of Nador but his request for permission to take a detachment of volunteers to relieve them was denied. Defeat followed defeat, Nador falling on 2 August and Monte Arruit on 9 August.95 The Legion was sent out piecemeal to strengthen other units in the area, to escort supply columns, to hold the most exposed blockhouses. It was an exhausting task, with officers and men on duty round the clock.96 Through the press and his published diary, the role played by Franco in the defence of Melilla contributed to his conversion into a national hero. In particular, he enhanced his reputation in the relief of the advanced position at Casabona, by unexpectedly using his escort column to attack the besieging Moroccans.97 He had learned from fighting the Moorish tribesmen how, contrary to peninsular field regulations, effective use could be made of ground cover.98