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How I took charge during the Spanish Civil War
Eugene Downing
It's not generally known that at one stage during the Spanish Civil War I was in charge. This is how it came about.
I was one of a small group of Irishmen who, with some twenty or so British recruits crossed the Pyrenees at the end of March 1938 to join the 15th International Brigade. Our first step on Spanish soil was an old fort on the outskirts of Figueras in Catalonia, near the French frontier. While waiting for arrangements to be made to send us on to the British Battalion further south we spent our time on the parade ground where we were taught the military commands in Spanish and also took it in turn to drill the group and practise issuing the words of command in that language.
On leaving to go to Barcelona, the first leg of our journey to the Battalion, the group was informed by our instructor that I was in charge. Since there were older and more experienced people in the group than myself I felt rather apprehensive at this unwelcome responsibility which had been thrust upon me. There were ex-British Army types in the group, one of whom, a Scot, told me he had served in the Black Watch. For some reason which I can't explain, this impressed me tremendously.
It transpired that the instructor had chosen me because I was the tallest and also because I had been quite good at picking up the bit of Spanish and issuing the commands at precisely the right moment when drilling the group. This piece of irrelevant flattery didn't reassure me one bit and the phrase that flashed through my mind was 'uneasy lies the head that wears a crown' – particularly if you don't want it.
However, since we would be taken in hand by the authorities wherever we happened to be and told where to go and what to do I decided that 'being in charge' didn't really mean anything and that it didn't entail any great responsibility or call for outstanding qualities of leadership.
When we arrived in Barcelona early in April we found great administrative confusion as a result of the big defeat which the Republican Army had suffered in the Aragon break-through the previous month. For the first time in the war Franco's artillery could be heard in Catalonia. Also, only a short while before we arrived in the city over 1,000 people had been killed and thousands injured in air-raids. Not surprisingly we had difficulties with accommodation and rations. There was a general acceptance of these minor personal discomforts as being an inevitable result of the terrible problems confronting the authorities.
One day, after a stroll along the Ramblas I returned to the building where we slept at night on the floor, and found a discussion in progress. Apparently, this had been initiated by a few 'leading comrades' who were endeavouring to persuade the others, most of whom seemed rather dubious about the whole thing, that it would be advisable to make strong representations to the authorities in order to effect an improvement in our conditions. Apart from the fact that I hadn't gone to Spain to make complaints I felt quite certain that, in the circumstances, it wouldn't make any difference anyway. However, since the position I nominally held seemed to be, much to my astonishment, a highly coveted one in the eyes of certain people, I was delighted to relinquish it and, on my proposal, a particularly forceful and articulate Communist Party member from London was elected to represent us.
He decided immediately to pay a visit to the office of the XVth Brigade taking me with him; presumably to demonstrate how the situation should be handled.
At that time most of the administrative posts in the XVth Brigade had been taken over by the Americans; a very tough no-nonsense lot. We stood in front of this American sitting behind his desk who listened grimly to a brief outline of what our spokesman wished to discuss with him, The American replied by explaining tersely the difficulties and making it clear that that was that. If I had been on my own I would have taken it that I had been dismissed. But our spokesman, who had obviously been 'steeled in the struggle' wasn't going to be put off by that kind of attitude. He began to demonstrate what was mean by 'forceful leadership.'
As a fascinated spectator, eager to learn, I decided immediately that would simply have to start practising punching the air with one fist while occasionally striking it into the palm of the other hand. Many a time I had seen racing tips and corn cures sold in Foster Place in Dublin by the same method.
The American watched this performance for a few moments and then suddenly rapped out curtly and very loudly 'DON'T ARGUE COMRADE'. He said this very loudly indeed.
The comrade was stunned. I waited expectantly, but he seemed to have lost the power of speech. When he had recovered himself he said meekly 'OK. Comrade, I'm not going to argue.' I was astonished at this sudden collapse. We left the office and on our way back my usually talkative companion was silent, I decided not to bother, after all, with the punching practice but to take up voice production instead. It was the decibels that counted, it seemed.
It was a cause of some amusement among the group, most of whom had been sensible enough not to have expected anything different, when told the result of the 'strong representations.'
We continued, for the time being, to sleep on the floor and to eat beans and dry bread.
The episode had a perfectly satisfactory ending as far as I was concerned; not the least source of satisfaction being that it did NOT result in my reinstatement.
Nevertheless, this does not invalidate my claim that for a period, however brief, I was in charge, and the crown rested, however uneasily, on my head.
Eugene Downing
Flat 11
55 Upper Leeson Street
Dublin 4.
More material by/about Eugene is also available on this site:
There are 2 obituaries available about him:
One by Manus O'Riordan, the other appeared on the Indymedia site.
In addition to this piece, Eugene has written several few other pieces. Here are some that are now online on this site.
In September 2000 Eugene was interviewed by Ciaran Crossey and John Quinn about the SCW.
Here is Eugene's authorised 5 page version of the notes from that discussion.
A [funny] article about Eugene's street politics in the mid 1930's - Street Journalism.
A letter to the Irish Times about Mattie Ryan, Pandit Nehru and a shooting exhibition.
The Plaque on the Wall, a report of a visit back to the hospital in Spain.
Letters from Josefina [about his time in hospital and letters between him and Josefina, one of the nurses.]
An interesting piece from Saothar, on Moscow's International Lenin School, attended by Bill McGregor, an IB volunteer.
The Siege of Connolly House. An interesting piece about a siege of the place the CP offices.
A letter to the Irish Times about the catholic church's refusal to allow a funeral service for
IB volunteer Tony Fox.
Would anyone who knows of further articles by Eugene please get in touch.
Ciaran Crossey
Belfast, 6th August 2003. cpcrossey@hotmail.com
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