PART II

1

While Harmony and Rose were being reunited with their new friend, the letter they had written to their parents was making its way across the whole of Europe. It went from train to train until reaching the border between France and Spain. There it stopped because the town it had to get to was in the hands of those who called themselves “Nationals” and, since the letter came from a country that was helping the so-called “Reds”, it couldn’t go any further. So it remained on the border, waiting for the conflict to be resolved.

Harmony and Rose’s parents carried on fighting, but with less and less hope that things might work out well, and also disappointed by what wars could achieve. Their father was at the front and their mother, Carmiña, tried always to be at the first-aid post closest to where he was fighting. Every time there was a battle and trucks started turning up with the wounded and dead, Carmiña was afraid one of those blood-spattered soldiers, their bodies and heads maltreated by shrapnel, might be Miguel, her husband. When she found out it wasn’t, she would breathe a sigh of relief, but her joy didn’t last long because she felt sorry for the others and thought any day now it would be her husband’s turn. This meant she always felt gloomy and a little down in the dumps.

Miguel was suffering the same. He firmly believed he was defending a just cause, but in time he realized many of those on the opposite side believed the same, and he came to the conclusion that war wasn’t a way of solving differences between people. You had to find a way to settle conflict without laying into someone with different ideas or beliefs. He thought this especially when he discovered his friend Henrique among a group of prisoners.

Henrique and he had done teacher training together and become good friends. He’d not heard from him since the war had started and suddenly he came across him in those circumstances. Henrique was a teacher in the city they had just captured and was being led down the streets among soldiers, the mayor, the delegate of the Falange and others who hadn’t remained loyal to the Republic. Henrique was the son of a rebel general, and presumably that was the crime he was to be tried for.

When he saw Miguel, Henrique’s face lit up, and he gestured to him, but Miguel pretended not to know him, and Henrique, feeling hurt and proud, withdrew to the back, without saying anything, but thinking how war could change people.

Miguel, who was a lieutenant, knew from other times what was going to happen: there would be a summary trial, and they would all be shot. In such cases, in among the military chiefs who had deliberately betrayed the Republic, there were always people who were there against their will, by force of circumstance. Miguel had often thought how unjust this situation could be, but had never been so personally affected. He knew Henrique was a good man who would never hurt anybody and respected everybody’s ideas. It occurred to him to talk to the commanding officer and defend his friend, but he realized, after the hard battles that had been necessary to take the city, all anybody wanted was revenge, not justice, and it would be in vain. So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He followed the caravan of prisoners down the street to see where they were being taken. When they were shut up in the council chamber of the town hall, where they were to be tried, he wrote Henrique’s full name on a piece of paper. Before there was time for the military tribunal to be convened, he went over to the soldier on guard duty at the door and, showing him the piece of paper, said in an authoritative voice:

“Get me this prisoner. I have to take him to be interrogated.”

The soldier clicked his heels, went inside and shouted out Henrique’s name. Miguel prayed to all the saints that Henrique wouldn’t do anything to arouse the soldier’s suspicions. In an effort to prevent this, he adopted a serious expression and pointed his rifle at him as soon as he appeared.

“Start walking in front of me and don’t move an inch out of line, or I’ll shoot you.”

Henrique, amazed to see his friend adopting such an attitude, simply asked:

“Where to?”

Miguel, who didn’t know the city or which way to go, gestured vaguely and forced him to advance in a certain direction with the barrel of his rifle.

As soon as they were out of sight of the town hall, Miguel glanced around. Since there was nobody in sight, he lowered his weapon and, coming alongside Henrique, said:

“Where can we go where it’s safe?”

Henrique, still confused, looked at him without saying anything. Miguel smiled and winked:

“Get with it, lad, or we’ll both be up for the firing squad!”

Henrique was so moved he couldn’t speak, and Miguel pushed him into a doorway, where the two of them hugged each other, half laughing, half crying.

“Come on,” said Miguel in the end, “there’s no time to lose!”

Henrique grabbed him by the arm:

“Are you sure about what you’re doing? I’m not on your side, Miguel. I never hurt anybody, but I’m right-wing, like the rest of my family, you know that. This could cost you your life.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. You’re my friend and a good person, I’m not leaving you to be shot among that bunch of traitors. But let’s not waste any more time. I’m taking you to pick up Marita and then we’ll see where the two of you can hide until all of this is over.”

Henrique shook his head:

“Marita’s dead. Two years ago, during childbirth. There were complications, and she couldn’t receive medical attention because the bombs had destroyed the hospital. The child died as well. It was a boy, you know? We went through a rough patch – and now this. I only have my daughter left. Let’s go to my house. If we can get there, I’ll pick her up and I think we’ll be able to find shelter.”

Miguel was reminded of Harmony and Rose, who was the same age as Henrique’s daughter. He thought he’d done well to send them to Russia. They would be safe there from bombs and starvation and the absence of medicine, even if they lacked other things.

Henrique picked up his daughter, who was staying with a neighbour, and at home, while putting a few basic things in some bags, said to his friend:

“I have it on good authority the Republic is losing the war. Take off that uniform and come with me. I know somewhere where we can hide. It won’t be long now.”

Miguel shook his head:

“I believe in what I’m doing and will keep it up to the end. I’m not a deserter.”

Henrique took his arm:

“Listen, Miguel. You’re a teacher like me, not a soldier. War isn’t good, you don’t have to defend it.”

Miguel clapped him on the back:

“It was your lot who started the war, those who rose up against the democratically elected Republic. I’m defending legality and justice.”

“Let’s not argue. This war will be over soon, and there will be reprisals, I know as much from my father. If your lot find out you set me free, they may decide to shoot you instead. Come with me. Don’t think of it as cowardice. I don’t mind dying now that Marita isn’t here. If I hide, it’s because of my daughter, so she isn’t left without any parents.”

“No, Henrique. You carried on as a teacher and must hide now because of your daughter. I chose to be a soldier and must keep fighting till the end. Carmiña is involved in the struggle as well, as a nurse, and the girls are in Russia. We must all follow the path in front of us.”

Henrique lowered his head in sadness. He thought for a while and then said:

“Wait just a moment, there’s something I have to do.”

He sat down and wrote some lines on a piece of paper. He put the paper in an envelope, closed the envelope, wrote down a name and address and gave it to Miguel.

“When this is over, come and find me, Miguel, I beg you. If I’m not there, then go and find my father, tell him you’re a friend of mine… a friend of Chisquiño, say it like that. He’ll realize anyone who knows me by that name is like a brother to me. And hand him this letter.”

Miguel replied he was sure that such a moment would never arrive but, if it did, he would do as requested. They embraced one last time, and then Henrique took his daughter by the hand. Miguel went with them for a while to make sure they weren’t stopped by a patrol. When they reached a crossroads, Henrique said:

“This is where we go our separate ways, Miguel. It’s better if we’re not seen together. People are afraid and distrustful.”

“OK… Goodbye, Henrique.”

“Goodbye, my friend.”

Miguel turned around and left without looking back. He had this crushing feeling in his chest, as if a hand was squeezing his heart. He realized they had both said “goodbye” and not “till next time”. It sounded like a bad omen.