Читать книгу Franco - Paul Preston - Страница 14

ALTHOUGH THINGS were taking a turn for the worse militarily, Franco dismissed out of hand any suggestions of a compromise peace with the Republicans or even with the profoundly Catholic Basques. Proposals to this end made by the Vatican were discussed by the Generalísimo and Cardinal Gomá in mid-February. Although respectful with the Primate, Franco had rejected anything less than outright surrender, refusing to negotiate with, and therefore recognize the authority of, those whom he held responsible for the present situation in the Basque Country. Gomá reported to Rome that Franco saw any mediation as merely putting off the necessary solution of a political and historical problem, by which he meant the eradication of Basque nationalism. Negotiations meant concessions and concessions meant ‘rewarding rebellion’ and would raise the expectations of other regions.¹ Franco’s negative attitude to mediation of any kind reflected his perception of the war as an all-or-nothing, life-or-death struggle which had to end with the total annihilation of the Republic and its supporters.

This was certainly the impression given to the Italians. When Cantalupo’s credentials arrived from Rome, he was received officially on 1 March with a scale of splendour which not only underlined the value that Franco placed on Italian assistance but also reflected his own taste for pomp. Any hopes harboured by his fellow generals that Franco considered his headship of the State to be at all provisional must by now have started to wither. The imposing ostentation and grandeur with which the Caudillo surrounded his public appearances resounded with permanence. Cantalupo was treated to eight military bands. The colourful ranks of Falangist, Carlist and other militias, Spanish, Italian and Moorish troops formed up in a solemn procession through Salamanca’s enormous but elegantly proportioned Plaza Mayor to the Palacio del Ayuntamiento. The Generalísimo arrived in the square escorted by his Moorish Guard, resplendent in their blue cloaks and shining breastplates. It recalled the entry of Alfonso XIII into Melilla in 1927, an occasion on which he was accompanied by Franco, who was increasingly indulging his own taste for royal ceremony. His arrival was greeted with the chant of ‘Franco! Franco! Franco!’. He received Cantalupo in a salon magnificently adorned for the occasion with sixteenth-century Spanish tapestries and seventeenth-century porcelain. During the ceremony, Franco was accompanied by Mola, Kindelán, Cabanellas, Dávila and Queipo de Llano as well as a veritable court of other army officers and functionaries in full dress uniform. Yet, Franco himself did not match the regal show and an unimpressed Cantalupo wrote to Rome ‘He stepped out with me on the balcony that offered an incredible spectacle of the immense square but was incapable of saying anything to the people that applauded and waited to be harangued; he had become cold, glassy and feminine again’.²

Away from the pomp of Salamanca, Roatta, Faldella and other senior Italian officers were shocked by the relentless repression behind the lines.³ Cantalupo requested instructions from Rome and on 2 March Ciano told him to inform Franco of the Italian Government’s view that some moderation in the reprisals would be prudent because unrestrained brutality could only increase the duration of the war. When Cantalupo saw Franco on 3 March, the Caudillo was fully prepared for the meeting. Cantalupo appealled to him to slow down the mass executions in Málaga in order to limit the international outcry. Denying all personal responsibility and lamenting the difficulties of controlling the situation at a distance, Franco claimed that the massacres were over ‘except for those carried out by uncontrollable elements’. In fact, the slaughter hardly diminished but its judicial basis was changed. Random killings were now replaced by summary executions under the responsibility of the local military authorities. Franco claimed to have sent instructions for greater clemency to be shown to the rabble (masse incolte) and continued severity against ‘leaders and criminals’ as a result of which only one in every five of those tried was now being shot.

Nevertheless, Rome continued to receive horrifying accounts from the Italian Consul in Málaga, Bianchi.^* On 7 March, Cantalupo was instructed to go to Málaga but Franco persuaded him that the situation was too dangerous for a visit. Nevertheless, the Generalísimo did undertake to have two military judges removed.⁴ Franco’s proclaimed difficulties about curtailing the killings in Málaga contrasted starkly with his response to a complaint by Cardinal Gomá about the shooting of Basque Nationalist priests in late October 1936. Valuing the good opinion of the Church more than that of the Italians, he replied instantaneously: ‘Your Eminence can rest assured that this stops immediately’. Shortly thereafter, Sangróniz confirmed to Gomá that ‘energetic measures had been taken’.⁵

At this time, Franco himself was sufficiently concerned by the unfavourable publicity provoked by the blanket repression to give a brilliantly ambiguous interview on the subject to Randolph Churchill. It was clear that in describing his policy as one of ‘humane and equitable clemency’, Franco’s meaning differed considerably from the way in which his words were understood by Churchill and his readers. Franco declared that ‘ringleaders and those guilty of murder’ would receive the death penalty, ‘just retribution’, but claimed mendaciously that all would be given fair trials, with defence counsel and ‘the fullest opportunity to state his case and call witnesses’. He omitted to mention that the defence counsel would be named by the court and would often outdo the prosecutors in demanding fierce sentences. Similarly, when Franco said that ‘when we have won, we shall have to consolidate our victory, pacify the discontented elements and unite the country’, Churchill could have no idea of the scale of the blood that would be shed or of the terror which would be deployed to realize those ends.⁶

For most of the Civil War, those Republican prisoners not summarily executed as they were captured or murdered behind the lines by Falangist terror squads were subjected to cursory courts martial. Often large numbers of defendants would be tried together, accused of generalised crimes and given little opportunity to defend themselves. The death sentences passed merely needed the signature (enterado) of the general commanding the province. As a result of the Italian protests, from March 1937 death sentences had to be sent to the Generalísimo’s headquarters for confirmation or pardon. The last word on death sentences lay with Franco, not as Head of State, but as Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces. In this area, his close confidant was Lieutenant-Colonel Lorenzo Martínez Fuset of the military juridical corps, who was auditor del Cuartel General del Generalísimo (legal adviser to headquarters). Franco insisted on seeing the death sentences personally, although he spent little time on reaching a decision. Martínez Fuset would bring folders of death sentences to Franco. Despite the regime myth of a tireless and merciful Caudillo agonizing late into the night over death sentences, the reality was much starker. In fact, in Salamanca or in Burgos, after lunch or over coffee, or even in a car speeding to the battle front, the Caudillo would flick through and then sign sheafs of them, often without reading the details but nonetheless specifying the most savage form of execution, strangulation by garrote. Occasionally, he would make a point of decreeing garrote y prensa (garrote reported in the press).⁷

Specifying press coverage was not just a way of intensifying the pain of the families of the condemned men but also had the wider objective of demoralizing the enemy with evidence of inexorable might and implacable terror. That was one of the lessons of war learnt by Franco in Morocco. At one lunch in the winter of 1936–37, the case of four captured Republican militiawomen was discussed. Johannes Bernhardt who was present was taken aback by the casual way Franco, in the same tone that he would use to discuss the weather, passed judgement, ‘There is nothing else to be done. Shoot them.’⁸ He could be gratuitously vindictive. On one occasion, having discovered that General Miaja’s son had been tried and absolved by a Nationalist tribunal in Seville, Franco intervened personally to have him rearrested and retried in Burgos. There was some doubt as to whether Captain Miaja had voluntarily come over to the Nationalists or been captured. Accordingly, the Burgos court issued a light sentence so Franco had the unfortunate young Miaja tried again in Valladolid. In Valladolid, the military tribunal found him not guilty and set him free. At this point, Franco intervened again and quite arbitrarily had him sent to a concentration camp at Miranda del Ebro where he remained until he was freed in a prisoner exchange for Miguel Primo de Rivera.⁹

Throughout 1937 and 1938, his brother-in-law and close political adviser, Ramón Serrano Suñer often tried to persuade him to adopt more juridically sound procedures and Franco consistently refused, saying ‘keep out of this. Soldiers don’t like civilians intervening in affairs connected with the application of their code of justice.’¹⁰ At one point, Serrano Suñer tried to arrange a reprieve for a Republican army officer. After first telling him that it was none of his business, Franco finally yielded to his brother-in-law’s pressure and undertook to do something. If Franco had wanted to help, he could have done so. As it was, four days later, he told Serrano Suñer that ‘the Army won’t put up with it, because this man was head of Azaña’s guard.’¹¹ Serrano Suñer and Dionisio Ridruejo both alleged that the Caudillo arranged for reprieves for death sentences to arrive only after the execution had already been carried out.¹²

Like Hitler, Franco had plenty of collaborators willing to undertake the detailed work of repression and, also like the Führer, he was able to distance himself from the process. Nonetheless, since he was the supreme authority within the system of military justice, there is no dispute as to where ultimate responsibility lay. Franco was aware that some of his subordinates enjoyed the bloodthirsty work of the repression. His Director-General of Prisons, Joaquin del Moral, was notorious for the prurient delight he derived from executions. General Cabanellas protested to Franco about the distasteful dawn excursions organized in Burgos by Del Moral in order to enjoy the day’s shootings. Franco did nothing. He was fully conscious of the extent to which the repression not only terrified the enemy but also inextricably tied those involved in its implementation to his own survival. Their complicity ensured that they would cling to him as the only bulwark against the possible revenge of their victims.¹³

In early March, to the chagrin of Cantalupo, Mussolini sent Roberto Farinacci, the powerful Fascist boss of Cremona, as his personal envoy to inform Franco of his ‘ideas about the future’ which involved placing a Prince of Savoy on the throne of Spain. That idea was politely but firmly rejected by Franco. However, the Caudillo was more amenable when Farinacci tried to convince him to create a fascist-style ‘Spanish National Party’ in order to control every aspect of political life. Delighted to be discussing ‘his’ future State, and clearly unencumbered by any inhibitions about the provisional nature of his mandate, Franco said that he was not planning to rely on either the Falangist or the Carlists in his post-war reconstruction. In rejecting the idea of an Italian prince, he made it clear that the restoration of the monarchy was anything but an immediate prospect, saying ‘First, I have to create the nation: then we will decide whether it is a good idea to name a king.’ It encapsulated the political philosophy which was to keep him in power until his death in 1975. Farinacci was not impressed with Franco, describing him in a letter to Mussolini as ‘a rather timid man whose face is certainly not that of a condottiere’. He was overheard by agents of the Spanish secret police declaring that Mussolini would have to take over Spain and appoint him as pro-consul. In particular, he thought, like Himmler later, that the slaughter of prisoners taking place behind the Nationalist lines was politically senseless and he protested in vain to Franco. He also made contact with the Falangist leader Manuel Hedilla as well as with Nicolás Franco in the hope of accelerating the fusion of Falangists and Carlists.¹⁴

The creation of a single party was clearly on Franco’s agenda but he was for the moment totally absorbed by events at the Madrid front. With his forces depleted in the Jarama and in desperate need of a diversion, Franco was anxious for Faldella to implement the proposal made on 13 February for an attack on Guadalajara. Negotiations between the two sides revealed differences over the scope of the enterprise. Roatta and his staff quickly came to suspect that Franco did not want the Italian troops to secure a decisive victory but only to alleviate the pressure on Orgaz’s forces after the bloody stalemate over the Jarama. The Italians regarded the Corpo di Truppe Volontarie as a force of elite shock troops and were determined not to see it worn down in the kind of piecemeal attrition favoured by Franco.¹⁵ Anxious to get the Italians into action, on 1 March, Franco effectively agreed to the Italian plan to close the circle around Madrid, with a joint attack south-west from Sigüenza towards Guadalajara backed up by a north-eastern push by Orgaz towards Alcalá de Henares. He assured Roatta that his forces in the Jarama would operate at the same time as the Italian assault provided that they could be reinforced by one of the newly formed Italo-Spanish mixed brigades. Aware of the weakness of Orgaz’s depleted troops, and fearing that they might not be ready for some days, on 4 March Roatta sent the second mixed brigade to strengthen them.¹⁶

On 5 March, Roatta wrote to Franco, confirming what had been agreed four days earlier and informing him that the Italian forces would start their advance on 8 March. On the same day, Roatta received a reply from Franco couched in guarded and ambiguous terms which revealed a lack of optimism about the Italian hopes of a decisive break-through. Although accepting that Orgaz’s forces would move to link up with the CTV at Pozuelo del Rey to the south-east of Alcalá de Henares, the Generalísimo implied that the extent of their advance would depend entirely on how much resistance they might meet along the way. Since Franco’s letter made no mention of the date of the attack, Roatta took this to signify that he had accepted 8 March.¹⁷ This seemed to be confirmed when, on 6 March, one of Orgaz’s commanders, General Saliquet, ordered an advance in the Jarama towards Pozuelo del Rey for 8 March. On 7 March, the eve of the battle, Roatta telegrammed Rome to say that he was still expecting the supporting action promised by the Spanish forces.¹⁸

Despite different immediate expectations of what would come of the attack, both sides certainly went into the operation talking in similar terms of closing the circle around Madrid.¹⁹ Deceived by the ease of his triumph at Málaga, Roatta was convinced that he could reach Guadalajara before the Republicans could mount any serious counter-attack. Nearly forty-five thousand troops were gathered in three groups for the main attack. 31,218 Italians in three divisions were to be flanked by two smaller Spanish brigades consisting of Legionnaires, Moors and Requetés, jointly under the command of General Moscardó, the hero of the Alcázar. Amply equipped with tanks, pieces of heavy artillery, planes and trucks, it was the most heavily armed motorised force yet to go into action in the war.²⁰ However, its advantages were diminished by technical deficiencies in the equipment and inadequate preparation of the troops. Mussolini wanted the three Italian divisions to act as a unit because he hoped that they would score up another victory which, like Málaga, would be attributed by the world to Fascism. The mood in the Nationalist headquarters was notably more pessimistic than that of Roatta and his staff. There was considerable resentment among the Nationalist officer corps of sarcastic remarks made by the Italians about why it had taken so long to capture a defenceless city like Madrid.²¹

On 8 March, the Black Flames division under the Italian General Amerigo Coppi broke through the thin Republican defences using the guerra celere tactics that had brought Roatta such success at Málaga. However, the Republic was better organized around Madrid than at Málaga. Moreover, as it became apparent by the evening of that first day that the Jarama front was quiet, the Republicans were able to strip that area unhindered and concentrate their forces against the Italians. As Coppi moved rapidly towards Madrid, dangerously exposing his left flank and over-extending his lines of communication, Republican reinforcements moved up unmolested by Orgaz’s troops. The Italian position was further endangered by the slowness of the Spanish columns on their right.

In general, the Black Shirts were surprised by the strength of Republican resistance and by the weather. Inadequately clothed, many dressed in colonial uniforms, they were caught in heavy snow and sleet. Their aeroplanes stranded on muddy improvised airfields, they made excellent targets for the Republican Air Force flying from permanent runways. Light Italian tanks with fixed machine guns were shown to be vulnerable to the Republic’s Russian T-26 with their revolving turret-mounted cannon.²² Now desperate for the Spanish supporting attack from the south, Roatta sent violent protests to Franco who feigned powerlessness, informing him that he had had to exert all his authority to oblige Orgaz to make a token action on 9 March which would be followed by a full-scale attack on the following day. It was extremely implausible that Orgaz would oppose an order from Franco. Moreover, the attack which began on 9 March was on the tiniest scale and it was not followed up on either 10 or 11 March. On 11 March, Orgaz was replaced as overall commander of the armies around Madrid by Saliquet. On 12 March, Varela was replaced by General Fernando Barrón. On the same day, Roatta sent a message to Franco to say that, without the guarantee of some diversionary activity in the Jarama, he could not move since his advance was being blocked by Republican units taken from the Jarama front.²³

The Italians later discovered that, until well into the battle, Franco had refused to give the order for Orgaz and Varela to advance in the Jarama, despite the fact that Barroso pleaded with him to do so. Franco tried to obscure this by having Roatta and Cantalupo informed that he had relieved Orgaz and Varela of their immediate commands specifically as a reprimand for the inaction of the Nationalist troops on the Jarama front. A slightly placated Mussolini telegrammed Roatta ‘I hope that Saliquet will not imitate the immorality of his predecessor’.²⁴ However, there was no question of Orgaz and Varela being in disgrace. Varela was promoted to Major-General on 15 March and posted to take command of the Avila division and Orgaz was given the crucial job of cresting the new mass army which Franco needed.²⁵ The fact that Franco felt able to move them suggests that he did not view the promised attack from the Jarama as a major priority.^* Having removed Varela and Orgaz, Franco and Saliquet promised Roatta an attack in the Jarama valley for 12 March. This also failed to materialize. On that day, Republican troops counter-attacked and the Italian advance was halted with heavy losses just south-east of the village of Brihuega. Finally, there were attacks on 13, 14 and 15 March but on a very small scale.²⁶

With the lines more or less stabilised, a much chastened Roatta accepted that the advance would get no further. Aware that his troops were at their best moving forward but easily demoralised when under attack, he was anxious to avoid a total debacle. Franco, however, avoided Roatta’s frantic requests for a meeting in Salamanca. Finally, during the afternoon of 15 March, the Italian general caught up with Franco, Mola and Kindelán at Arcos de Medinaceli near the front. Roatta requested permission to withdraw his troops from the attack. His hope was that the small advance made could now be defended by Spanish troops. He recognized the poor defensive qualities of his own men and suggested that perhaps they could continue to advance further outside the capital, from north to south. The Generalísimo refused outright.

Franco was either culpably deficient in hard information or else maliciously determined to use the Italians as pawns in his preferred tactic of attrition. Contrary to all the evidence, he insisted that the Republic was ‘militarily and politically on the verge of defeat’ and that ‘the complete solution be sought in the region of Madrid, with the continuation pure and simple of the operations in course’. Roatta argued that further operations on the immediate Madrid front were doomed to failure given the apparent paralysis of the Nationalist forces in the Jarama, the sheer scale of Republican resistance and the exhaustion of the CTV. Franco simply refused to budge. He had had to accept the imposition of a joint general staff, the deployment of autonomous Italian units, the humiliating insinuation that Mussolini could run his war better than he could and the possibility that the victory would be won by the Italians to the detriment of his own political ambitions. His reluctance to help Roatta, either by fulfilling his promise for the attack from the Jarama or by relieving his troops in the line, smacked of revenge. He was rubbing the Italians’ noses in their earlier arrogant confidence that they could take Madrid alone and that the advance on Guadalajara would be a walk-over. He certainly seemed to be determined not to make any sacrifices of his own troops and happy to let the Italians exhaust themselves in a bloodbath with the Republicans.

At loggerheads, Franco and Roatta reached an uncomfortable and ambiguous compromise by which the Generalísimo agreed to the Italians resting until 19 March but not deciding firmly what would happen thereafter. On returning to his headquarters, a still seriously concerned Roatta wrote to Franco that to persist with the original plan would simply consume their best troops to little avail. He proposed instead the abandonment of the present operations and a regrouping for a future decisive operation. Franco began a series of consultations with his own generals.²⁷ During the lull, the Republicans counter-attacked again in force on 18 March. Unaware that disaster was imminent, Roatta again visited the Generalísimo in Salamanca. They rehearsed the arguments of three days earlier, with Roatta insisting that the Italian contingent should be replaced while Franco, ever obstinate in terms of giving up territory or admitting any kind of reverse, remained adamant that the Italians should renew the attack on Guadalajara.

While Roatta banged the table and complained violently about the missing offensive in the Jarama, Franco continued to maintain, either misguidedly or malevolently, that the Italians were massively superior in men and materials to the Republicans. As Franco was explaining why the assault on Guadalajara must be continued in some form or other, news arrived of a massive Republican assault.²⁸ The Italians had not used the lull to strengthen their defences which was a culpable negligence on the part of Roatta. Nevertheless, the ease with which they were overrun proves Roatta to have been correct in his contention to Franco about the relative weakness of his troops. The Republicans recaptured Brihuega and routed the Italians. Roatta returned to see Franco again on 19 March requesting that his ‘shock troops’ not be kept in a defensive function but be allowed to regroup and be used elsewhere. The Generalísimo refused. After further attacks, a personal appeal from Cantalupo finally persuaded Franco to substitute the CTV with Spanish units.²⁹

Mussolini was outraged, declaring to Ulrich von Hassell, the German Ambassador in Rome, that he had informed the Italian command in Spain that no one could return alive until a victory over the Republic had wiped out the shame of this defeat. On the basis of Roatta’s reports, he also blamed the Spaniards for failing to fire a shot to back up his forces and, in a telegram to Ciano, denounced the deplorable passivity of Franco’s forces.³⁰ The reaction of Franco and his staff was a mixture of disappointment at the defeat and Schadenfreude at the Italians’ humiliation. Italian fascist songs were sung in the Nationalist trenches with their words changed to ridicule the retreat. Nationalist officers at the headquarters of General Monasterio’s cavalry in Valdemoro, including Monasterio himself and Franco’s friend, the artillery officer Luis Alarcón de la Lastra, had toasted ‘Spanish heroism of whatever colour it might be’. Yagüe made no secret of the fact that he was delighted to see the arrogant Italians brought down a peg or two.³¹ Cantalupo advised Farinacci, who was still in Spain, that he ought not to risk returning to Salamanca.³²

Roatta maintained thereafter that the ultimate defeat was fundamentally the consequence of Franco’s failure to keep his word.³³ That view underestimates the ferocity of Republican resistance, the role played by the weather, the poor fitness, discipline, training and morale of the Italian troops and his own mistakes. Nonetheless, if the promised attack had materialised, the Republic would have been hard pressed to mount a defence and the outcome might have been very different. Significantly, Franco was anything but abashed by the defeat. On 23 March, talking to Colonel Fernando Gelich Conte, one of the Italian staff officers attached to his headquarters, he brushed it off as militarily irrelevant.³⁴ In fact, there is every reason to suppose that he was not displeased by the huge cost to the Republic of its victory in such a crippling confrontation in which the corresponding cost to the Nationalists had been borne by the Italians.

It has been suggested that Franco connived at the humiliation of the Italians.³⁵ That is an over-simplification since he was too cautious to risk a defeat whose consequences could not be foreseen. It is more likely that, in his desire to let the CTV confront and wear down the Republican forces around Madrid, he miscalculated the risks of not throwing his promised forces into battle. He had little desire to see the Italians win a sweeping and rapid victory when his own plans focused on a war sufficiently slow to permit thorough-going political purges.³⁶ It is significant that, a month before the defeat, Cantalupo reported to Rome that Mola and Queipo had insinuated to Franco that his prestige diminished in inverse proportion to the success of Italian arms.³⁷

Franco clearly felt that he was obliged to justify himself to the Duce. Accordingly, he wrote to Mussolini on 19 March a letter of self-exoneration containing a number of feeble and contradictory arguments. These ranged from alleging confusion over the dates for the launching of the Guadalajara offensive to an effort to diminish the gravity of the missing Jarama push by claiming that the Republican forces which had faced the CTV were dramatically smaller than, in reality, they had been.³⁸ He also sent a messenger to Cantalupo with an equally mendacious claim that, in fulfilment of the agreement reached with Roatta, he had ordered advances by Orgaz on 25 February and 1 March. According to this emissary, by the time of the 8 March advance on Guadalara, Orgaz had allegedly lost more than one third of his men and was unable to attack further. That had indeed been true two weeks earlier which is why Franco had importuned Faldella on 21 February to begin the Guadalajara offensive prematurely. If Orgaz’s troops were so depleted, it would imply at best an irresponsible lack of co-ordination between Franco and Roatta and at worst culpable military incompetence on Franco’s part in permitting the Guadalajara advance to take place in such circumstances. To make matters worse, in an interview with Cantalupo on 23 March, in an even more crass exercise of self-justification, Franco blamed everything on Orgaz for not speaking up about the weakness of his forces. But it was precisely because Franco had told Roatta about that weakness that the Italian commander had sent the second mixed brigade to reinforce Orgaz’s troops on 4 March.³⁹

The inescapable conclusion is that Franco sought to let the Italians bear the brunt of the fighting at Guadalajara while Orgaz’s forces regrouped after the battering they had received during the battle of Jarama. The only possible mitigation is that he did so in the post-Málaga misapprehension that the Black Shirts were near-invincible. Whatever Franco’s thoughts, Mussolini could see that he had been used but he had little choice but to continue supporting Franco. Guadalajara had smashed the myth of fascist invincibility and Mussolini found himself committed to Franco until the myth was rebuilt. Equally, however galling, it was now clear that it made more sense to work with Franco for a Nationalist victory than independently.⁴⁰ Shortly after his letter of exculpation, Franco had requested help for a huge assault on Bilbao. Ignoring remarks made by Roatta about the miraculous appearance of the necessary forces for Bilbao which had never materialized during the battle of Guadalajara, Mussolini ordered his commander henceforth to obey the instructions and directives of Franco. Italian forces would henceforth be distributed in Spanish units and subject to the command of Franco’s generals. When Cantalupo informed him of this on 28 March, Franco was delighted. The Italian Ambassador found him as if ‘freed of a nightmare’. Franco asked him to inform the Duce of his ‘joy at being understood and appreciated’.^*