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THE MUNICIPAL elections of 12 April 1931 were intended by the government to be the first stage of a controlled return to constitutional normality after the collapse of the Primo de Rivera dictatorship. However, on the evening of polling day, as the results began to be known, people started to drift onto the streets of the cities of Spain and, as the crowds grew, Republican slogans were shouted with increasing excitement. In the countryside, the power of the local bosses or caciques was unbroken but in the towns, where the vote was much freer, monarchist candidates had suffered a disaster. With the artillerymen on his staff at the Academy openly rejoicing at the Republican triumph, Franco was deeply worried about the situation.¹ While he mused in his office in Zaragoza, his one-time commanding officer and a man whom he admired, General Sanjurjo, was clinching the fate of the King. Sanjurjo now Director-General of the para-military Civil Guard, the monarchy’s most powerful instrument of repression, had informed several cabinet ministers that he could not guarantee the loyalty of the men under his command in the event of mass demonstrations against the monarchy.² In fact, there was little reason to suspect the loyalty of the Civil Guard, a brutal and conservative force. Sanjurjo’s fear was rather that the defence of the monarchy could be attempted only at the cost of copious bloodshed, given the scale of the popular hostility to the King.

That Sanjurjo was not prepared to risk a bloodbath on behalf of Alfonso XIII reflected the fact that he had personal reasons for feeling resentment towards the King. He felt that he had been snubbed by the King for marrying beneath his rank and he had not forgiven Alfonso XIII for failing to stand by Primo de Rivera in January 1930.³ Sanjurjo’s reluctance to defend his King may also have reflected two conversations that he had with Alejandro Lerroux in February and April 1931, during which the Republican leader had tried to persuade him to ensure the benevolent neutrality of the Civil Guard during a change of regime. Sanjurjo informed the Director-General of Security, General Mola, of the first of these meetings and assured him that he had not agreed to Lerroux’s request.⁴ His subsequent actions during the crisis of 12, 13 and 14 April, together with the favourable treatment which he received afterwards from the new regime, were to lead Franco to suspect that perhaps Sanjurjo had been bought by Lerroux and betrayed the monarchy.

Franco was unaware of what Sanjurjo was saying to the cabinet ministers on 12 April, but he was in telephone contact with Millán Astray and other generals. He considered marching on Madrid with the cadets from the Academia but refrained from doing so after a telephone conversation with Millán Astray at 11.00 a.m. on the morning of 13 April.⁵ Millán Astray asked him if he thought that the King should fight to keep his throne. Franco replied that everything depended on the attitude of the Civil Guard. For the next five and a half years, the stance of the Civil Guard would be Franco’s first concern in thinking about any kind of military intervention in politics. Most of the Spanish Army, apart from its Moroccan contingent, was made up of untried conscripts. Franco was always to be intensely aware of the problems of using them against the hardened professionals of the Civil Guard. Now, Millán Astray told Franco that Sanjurjo had confided in him that the Civil Guard could not be relied upon and that Alfonso XIII therefore had no choice but to leave Spain. Franco commented that, in view of what Sanjurjo said, he too thought that the King should go.⁶

Franco had also been greatly influenced by the telegram that Berenguer sent in the early hours of 13 April to the Captains-General of Spain. The Captains-General in command of the eight military regions into which the country was divided were effectively viceroys. In the telegram, Berenguer instructed them to keep calm, maintain the discipline of the men under their command and ensure that no acts of violence impede ‘the logical course that the supreme national will imposes on the destinies of the Fatherland’.⁷ Berenguer’s attitude derived from his own pessimism about Army morale. He believed that some Army officers were simply blasé about the danger to the monarchy. More seriously, he suspected that many others were indifferent and even hostile to its fate in the wake of the divisions created in the 1920s. Nevertheless, despite his telegram and his own inner misgivings, on the morning of 14 April, out of loyalty to the monarchy, Berenguer told the King that the Army was ready to overturn the result of the elections. Alfonso XIII refused.⁸ Shortly after Berenguer’s interview with the King, Millán Astray told Berenguer about his conversation with the Director of the Zaragoza Academy on the previous day repeating, as ‘an opinion which has to be taken into account’, Franco’s view that the King had no choice but to leave.⁹

The King decided to leave Spain but not to abdicate, in the hope that his followers might be able to engineer a situation in which he would be begged to return. Power was assumed on 14 April 1931 by the Provisional Government whose membership had been agreed in August 1930 by the Republicans and Socialists who had made the Pact of San Sebastián. Although led by Niceto Alcalá Zamora, a conservative Catholic landowner from Córdoba who had once been a Minister under the King, the Provisional Government was dominated by Socialists and centre and left Republicans committed to sweeping reform.

In a number of ways in the first week of the Republic, Franco displayed unmistakably, if guardedly, a repugnance for the new regime and a lingering loyalty to the old. There was nothing unusual in his feeling such loyalty – a majority of Army officers were monarchists and would have been unlikely to change their convictions overnight. Franco was ambitious but took discipline and hierarchy very seriously. On 15 April, he issued an order to the cadets, in which he announced the establishment of the Republic and insisted on rigid discipline: ‘If discipline and total obedience to orders have been the invariable practice in this Centre, they are even more necessary today when the Army is obliged, with serenity and unity, to sacrifice its thoughts and its ideology for the good of the nation and the tranquility of the Patria.’¹⁰ It was not difficult to decipher the hidden meaning: Army officers must grit their teeth and overcome their natural repugnance towards the new regime.

For a week, the red and gold monarchist flag continued to fly over the Academia. The Captain-General of Aragón, Enrique Fernández de Heredia, had been instructed by the Provisional Government to raise the Republican tricolour throughout the region. With the military headquarters in Zaragoza surrounded by hostile crowds demanding that Cacahuete (peanut), as the vegetarian Fernández de Heredia was known, fly the Republican flag, he refused. At midnight on 14 April, the new Minister of War, Manuel Azaña, ordered him to hand over command of the region to the military governor of Zaragoza, Agustín Gómez Morato, who was considered loyal to the Republican cause and who, indeed, was to be imprisoned by the Nationalists in July 1936 for opposing the military rebellion in Morocco. Gómez Morato undertook the substitution and telephoned all units in Aragón to order them to do the same. At the Military Academy, Franco informed his superior that changes of insignia could be ordered only in writing. It was not until after 20 April when the new Captain-General of the region, General Leopoldo Ruiz Trillo, had signed an order to the effect that the Republican flag should be flown, that Franco ordered the monarchist ensign struck.¹¹

In 1962, Franco wrote a partisan and confused interpretation of the fall of the monarchy in his draft memoirs in which he blamed the guardians of the monarchist fortress for opening the gates to the enemy. The enemy consisted of a group of ‘historic republicans, freemasons, separatists and socialists’. The freemasons were ‘atheistic traitors in exile, delinquents, swindlers, men who betrayed their wives’.¹² The narrowness of his interpretation is striking in several ways. Franco’s admiration for the dictatorship is understandable. His assumption that the King had not contravened the constitution in acquiescing in a military coup d’état in 1923 and that the situation in April 1931 was therefore one of constitutional legality was clearly the view of a soldier who never questioned the Army’s right to rule. The clear implication is that the monarchy should, and but for Sanjurjo and the Civil Guard could, have been defended by force in April 1931, which was certainly not his view at the time. Franco conveniently forgot his own ruthless pragmatism. The mistake having been made by others, he had made the best of a bad job and got on with his career.

Nonetheless, the flag incident suggested that Franco was sufficiently affected by the fall of the monarchy to want to establish some distance between himself and the Republic. It was not a question of outright indiscipline nor is it plausible that he was trying well in advance to build up credit with conservative political circles. In keeping the monarchist flag flying, Franco was advertising the fact that, unlike some officers who had been part of, or at least in touch with, the Republican opposition, he could not be considered as in any way tainted by disloyalty to the monarchy. Perhaps even more than from the pro-Republican officers whom he despised anyway, he was marking distance between himself and his brother Ramón who had been one of the most notorious military traitors to the King. Francisco clearly saw his own position as altogether more praiseworthy than that of General Sanjurjo whom he later came to regard, with Berenguer, as responsible for the fall of the monarchy.¹³ However, he would not permit his regret at the fall of the monarchy to stand in the way of his career. As military monarchism went, Franco’s pragmatic stance was a long way from, for instance, that of the founder of the Spanish Air Force, General Kindelán, who went into voluntary exile on 17 April rather than live under the Republic.¹⁴ Nonetheless, Franco felt great repugnance for those officers who had opposed the monarchy and were rewarded by being given important posts under the Republic. On 17 April, General Gonzalo Queipo de Llano became Captain-General of Madrid, General Eduardo López Ochoa of Barcelona and General Miguel Cabanellas of Seville. All three would play crucial roles in Franco’s later career and he never trusted any of them.

It was perhaps with these promotions in mind that, on 18 April, Franco wrote a letter to the Director of ABC, the Marqués de Luca de Tena. The monarchist ABC was the most influential newspaper on the Right in Spain. The issue of that morning had published his photograph alongside a news item that he was about to go to Morocco as High Commissioner, the most coveted post in the Army and one which was, at the time, the peak of Franco’s ambition. The basis of the item was a suggestion by Miguel Maura, the Minister of the Interior, to Manuel Azaña, the Minister of War, that Franco be appointed to the post. It would have been a sensible way of buying his loyalty. In fact, the plum Moroccan job was given to General Sanjurjo, who held it briefly in conjunction with the headship of the Civil Guard – such preferment no doubt feeding Franco’s suspicions that Sanjurjo was being paid off for his treachery. The ostensible objective of Franco’s letter was to request that the newspaper publish a correction but it was another gesture aimed at establishing his distance from Spain’s new rulers. In convoluted and ambiguous language, he denied that he had been offered any appointment and asserted that ‘I could not accept any such post unless I was ordered to do so. To accept such a post might be interpreted in some circles as suggesting that there had been some prior understanding on my part with the regime which has just been installed or else apathy or indifference in the fulfilment of my duties’.¹⁵ That Franco believed that he needed to make his position clear in the leading conservative daily reflects both his ambition and his sense of himself as a public figure. Having clarified his loyalty to the monarchy, he then went on to mend his fences with the Republican authorities by proclaiming his respect for the ‘national sovereignty’, a reflection of his cautious pragmatism and of the flexibility of his ambitions.

The limits of military loyalty were to be severely tried under the Republic. The new Minister of War, Azaña, had studied military politics and was determined to remedy the technical deficiencies of the Spanish Army and to curtail its readiness to intervene in politics. Azaña was an austere and brilliantly penetrating intellectual who, despite laudable intentions, was impatient of Army sensibilities and set about his task without feeling the need to massage the collective military ego. The Army which he found on taking up his post was under-resourced and over-manned, with a grossly disproportionate officer corps. Equipment was obsolete and inadequate and there was neither ammunition nor fuel enough for exercises and manoeuvres. Azaña wished to reduce the Army to a size commensurate with the nation’s economic possibilities to increase its efficiency and to eradicate the threat of militarism from Spanish politics. Even those officers who approved of these aims were uneasy about a decimation of the officer corps. Nevertheless, implemented with discretion, Azaña’s objectives might have found some support within the Army. However, conflict was almost inevitable. Azaña and the government in which he served were determined to eliminate where possible the irregularities of the Dictatorship of Primo de Rivera. There were those, Franco foremost among them, who admired the Dictatorship and had been promoted by it. They could not view with equanimity any assault on its works. Secondly, Azaña was inclined to be influenced by, and to reward the efforts of, those sections of the Army which were most loyal to the Republic. That necessarily meant military opponents of the Dictatorship, who were junteros and largely artillerymen. That in turn infuriated the Africanistas who had opposed the junteros since 1917.¹⁶

The many measures which Azaña promulgated in the first months of the Republic divided the Army and were seized upon by the rightist press in order to generate the idea that the military, along with the Church, was being singled out for persecution by the new regime. That was a distortion of Azaña’s intentions. By a decree of 22 April 1931, Army officers were required to take an oath of loyalty (promesa de fidelidad) to the Republic just as previously they had to the monarchy. It did not matter what an officer’s inner convictions were and no mechanism was set up to purge or investigate those who were monarchists. According to the decree, to stay in the ranks, an officer simply had to make the promise ‘to serve the Republic well and faithfully, obey its laws and defend it by arms’. In the case of those who refused to give the promise, it was to be assumed that they wished to leave the service. Most officers had no difficulty about making the promise. For many, it was probably a routine formula without special significance and was made by many whose real convictions were anti-Republican.¹⁷ After all, few had felt bound by their oath of loyalty to the monarchy to spring to its defence on 14 April. On the other hand, although a reasonable demand on the part of the new Minister and the new regime, the oath could easily be perceived by the more partisan officers as an outrageous imposition. Adept at manipulating the military mentality, the right-wing press generated the impression that those whose convictions prevented them swearing the oath were being hounded penniless out of the Army.¹⁸ In fact, those who opted not to swear were considered members of the reserve and were to receive their pay accordingly.

A prominent right-wing general, Joaquín Fanjul, retrospectively summed up the feelings of many officers: ‘When the Republic came into being, it placed many officers in a dilemma: respect it and undertake formally to defend it or else leave the service. The formula was rather humiliating, offspring as it was of the person who conceived it. I thought about it for four days, and finally I offered up my humiliation to my Patria and I signed as did most of my comrades.’¹⁹ In so far as Franco was forced to decide between his profession and his convictions in April 1931, he opted, understandably and without any apparent difficulty, for his profession. Franco was a more sinuous and pragmatic individual than Fanjul as was shown by a conversation which he had in 1931 with an artilleryman of his acquaintance, General Reguera, who had retired under the terms of the Azaña law. ‘I believe that you have committed a mistake,’ said Franco. ‘The Army cannot lose its senior officers just for the sake of it at times as difficult as these.’ When Reguera explained the disgust he felt at ‘serving those people and their dishcloth of a flag’, Franco replied ‘It’s a pity that you and others like you are leaving the service precisely when you could be of most use to Spain and are leaving the way clear to those whom we all know who would do anything to climb a few rungs of the ladder. Those of us who have stayed on will have a bad time, but I believe that by staying we can do much more to avoid what neither you nor I want to happen than if we had just packed up and gone home’.²⁰

On 25 April, the announcement was made of the decree which came to be known as the Ley Azaña. It offered voluntary retirement on full pay to all members of the officer corps, a generous and expensive way of trying to reduce its size. However, the decree stated that after thirty days, any officer who was surplus to requirements but had not opted for the scheme would lose his commission without compensation. This caused massive resentment and further encouragement of the belief, again fomented by the rightist press, that the Army was being persecuted by the Republic. Since the threat was never carried out, its announcement was a gratuitously damaging error on the part of Azaña or his ministerial advisers.

As soon as the decree was made public, the most alarmist rumours were spread about unemployment and even exile for officers who were not enthusiastic Republicans.²¹ A large number accepted, rather more than one third of the total, and as many as two thirds among those colonels who had no hope of ever being promoted to general.²² Franco of course did not. He was visited by a group of officers from the Academy who asked his advice on how to respond to the new law. His reply gave a revealing insight into his notion that the Army was the ultimate arbiter of Spain’s political destinies. He said that a soldier served Spain and not a particular regime and that, now more than ever, Spain needed the Army to have officers who were real patriots.²³ At the very least, Franco was keeping his options open.

Like many officers, Franco found his relationship with the new regime subject to constant frictions. Before April was out, he became embroiled in the so-called ‘responsibilities’ issue. General Berenguer had been arrested on 17 April, for alleged offences committed in Africa, as Prime Minister and later as Minister of War during the summary trial and execution of Galán and García Hernández.²⁴ General Mola was arrested on 21 April for his work as Director-General of Security under Berenguer.²⁵ These arrests were part of a symbolic purge of significant figures of the monarchy which did the nascent Republic far more harm than good. The issue of ‘responsibilities’ harked back to the Annual disaster and the role played in it by royal interference, military incompetence and the deference of politicians towards the Army. It was popularly believed that the military coup of 1923 had been carried out in order to protect the King from the findings of the ‘Responsibilities Commission’ set up in 1921. Accordingly, the issue was still festering. To the ‘responsibilities’ contracted by Army officers and monarchist politicians before 1923 the Republican movement had added the acts of political and fiscal abuse and corruption carried out during the Dictatorship and after. The greatest of these was considered to be the execution of Galán and García Hernández. With the Dictator dead and the King in exile, it was inevitable that Berenguer would be an early target of Republican wrath.

The campaign ‘for responsibilities’ helped keep popular Republican fervour at boiling point in the early months of the Regime but at a high price in the long term. In fact, relatively few individuals were imprisoned or fled into exile but the ‘responsibilities’ issue created a myth of a vindictive and implacable Republic, and increased the fears and resentments of powerful figures of the old regime, inducing them to see the threat posed by the Republic as greater than it really was.²⁶ In the eyes of officers like Franco, Berenguer was being tried unjustly for his part in a war to which they had devoted their lives, and for following military regulations in court-martialling Galán and García Hernández. Far from being heroes and martyrs, they were simply mutineers. Mola was a hero of the African war who, as Director-General of Security, had merely been doing his job of controlling subversion. What enraged Franco and many other Africanistas was that officers whom they considered courageous and competent were being persecuted while those who had plotted against the Dictator were being rewarded with the favour of the new regime. The ‘responsibilities’ trials were to provide the Africanistas with a further excuse for their instinctive hostility to the Republic. Franco would move more circumspectly along this road than many others like Luis Orgaz, Manuel Goded, Fanjul and Mola, but he would make the journey all the same. Like them, he came to see the officers who received the preferment of the Republic as lackeys of freemasonry and Communism, weaklings who pandered to the mob.

In this context, Franco had an ambiguous attitude towards Berenguer. Although he approved of his actions in connection with the Jaca rising, he would soon come to question his failure to fight for the monarchy in April 1931. Moreover, he harboured considerable personal resentment towards Berenguer. Having informed Franco in 1930 that he was going to promote him to General de División (Major-General), Berenguer had then realised that his friend General León was about to reach the age at which he should have passed into the reserve. To avoid this, and on the grounds that Franco had plenty of time before him, Berenguer gave the promotion instead to León.²⁷ It is thus slightly surprising that, at the end of April, Franco agreed to act as defender in Berenguer’s court martial. Along with Pacón Franco Salgado-Araujo, his ADC, he visited Madrid on 1 May and interviewed Berenguer in his cell on the following day. On 3 May, Franco was informed that the Minister of War refused authorization for him to act on behalf of Berenguer on the grounds that he was resident outside the military region in which the trial was taking place.²⁸ It was the beginning of the mutual distrust which would characterize the momentous relationship between Franco and Azaña. It was during the trip to Madrid that Franco’s attitude to Sanjurjo began to sour. His friend Natalio Rivas told him about Sanjurjo’s interview with Lerroux on 13 April. Franco concluded that some offer of future preferment had been made which accounted for Sanjurjo’s failure to mobilize the Civil Guard in defence of the King.²⁹

Franco’s latent hostility to the Republic was brought nearer to the surface with Azaña’s military reforms. In particular, he was appalled by the abolition of the eight historic military regions which were no longer to be called Capitanías Generales but were converted into ‘organic divisions’ under the command of a Major-General who would have no legal powers over civilians. The viceregal jurisdictional powers held by the old Captains-General were eliminated and the rank of Lieutenant-General was deemed unnecessary and was also suppressed.³⁰ These measures were a break with historic tradition: they removed the Army’s jurisdiction over public order. They also wiped out the possibility for Franco of reaching the pinnacles of the rank of Lieutenant-General and the post of Captain-General. He would reverse both measures in 1939. However, he was hardly less taken aback by Azaña’s decree of 3 June 1931 for the so-called revisión de ascensos (review of promotions) whereby some of the promotions on merit given during the Moroccan wars were to be re-examined. It reflected the government’s determination to wipe away the legacy of the Dictatorship – in this case to reverse some of the arbitrary promotions made by Primo de Rivera. The announcement raised the spectre that, if all of those promoted during the Dictadura were to be affected, Goded, Orgaz and Franco would go back to being colonels, and many other senior Africanistas would be demoted. Since the commission carrying out the revision would not report for more than eighteen months, it was to be at best an irritation, at worst a gnawing anxiety for those affected. Nearly one thousand officers expected to be involved, although in the event only half that number had their cases examined.³¹

The right-wing press and specialist military newspapers mounted a ferocious campaign alleging that Azaña’s declared intention was to ‘triturar el Ejército’ (crush the Army).³² Azaña never made any such remark, although it has become a commonplace that he did. He made a speech in Valencia on 7 June in which he praised the Army warmly and declared his determination to triturar the power of the corrupt bosses who dominated local politics, the caciques in the same way as he had dismantled ‘other lesser threats to the Republic’. This was twisted into the notorious phrase.³³ To the fury of the Africanistas, it was rumoured that Azaña was being advised by a group of Republican officers known among his rightist opponents as the ‘black cabinet’. The abolition of promotion by merit reflected the commitment of the artillery to promotion only by strict seniority. Azaña’s informal military advisers included artillery officers, such as Majors Juan Hernández Saravia and Arturo Menéndez López, and consisted largely of junteros who had taken part in the movement against the Dictatorship and the Monarchy. Franco regarded these officers as contemptible. There was ill feeling elsewhere in the officer corps that, instead of using the most senior Major-Generals, Azaña should listen to such relatively junior men.³⁴

However, Hernández Saravia complained to a comrade that Azaña was too proud to listen to advice from anyone. Moreover, far from setting out to persecute monarchist officers, Azaña seems rather to have cultivated many of them, such as Sanjurjo or the monarchist General Enrique Ruiz Fornells whom he kept on as his under-secretary. Indeed, there were even some leftist officers who took retirement out of frustration at what they saw as Azaña’s complaisance with the old guard and the offensive and threatening language which Azaña was accused of using against the Army is difficult to find. Azaña, although firm in his dealings with officers, spoke of the Army in public in controlled and respectful terms.³⁵

Franco was well known for his repugnance for day-to-day politics. His daily routine at the Military Academy was a full and absorbing one. Nevertheless, he was soon obliged to think about the changes that had taken place. The conservative newspapers which he read, ABC, La Época, La Correspondencia Militar, presented the Republic as responsible for Spain’s economic problems, mob violence, disrespect for the Army and anticlericalism. The press, and the material which he received and devoured from the Entente Internationale contre la Troisième Internationale, portrayed the regime as a Trojan Horse for Communists and freemasons determined to unleash the Godless hordes of Moscow against Spain and all its great traditions.³⁶ The challenges to military certainties constituted by Azaña’s reforms cannot have failed to provoke, at the very least, nostalgia for the monarchy. Similarly, news of the rash of church burnings which took place in Madrid, Málaga, Seville, Cádiz and Alicante on 11 May did not pass him by. The attacks were carried out largely by anarchists, provoked by the belief that the Church was at the heart of the most reactionary activities in Spain. Franco was probably unaware of accusations that the first fires were started with aviation spirit secured from Cuatro Vientos aerodrome by his brother Ramón. He cannot, however, have failed to learn of his brother’s published statement that ‘I contemplated with joy those magnificent flames as the expression of a people which wanted to free itself from clerical obscurantism’.³⁷ In notes made for his projected memoirs, jotted down nearly thirty years after the event, Franco described the church burnings as the event which defined the Republic.³⁸ That reflects not only his underlying Catholicism, but also the extent to which the Church and the Army were increasingly flung together as the self-perceived victims of Republican persecution.

However, more than for anything else that had happened since 14 April, Franco was to bear Azaña the deepest grudge of all for his order of 30 June 1931 closing the Academia General Militar de Zaragoza. The first news of it reached him while on manoeuvres in the Pyrenees. His initial reaction was disbelief. When it sank in, he was devastated. He had loved his work there and he would never forgive Azaña and the so-called ‘black cabinet’ for snatching it from him. He and other Africanistas believed that the Academy had been condemned to death merely because it was one of Primo de Rivera’s successes. He was also convinced that the ‘black cabinet’ wanted to bring him down because of their envy of his spectacular military career. In fact, Azaña’s decision was based on doubts about the efficacy of the kind of training imparted in the Academy and also on a belief that its cost was disproportionate at a time when he was trying to reduce military expenses. Franco controlled his distress with difficulty.³⁹ He wrote to Sanjurjo hoping that he might be able to intercede with Azaña. Sanjurjo replied that he must resign himself to the closure. A few weeks later, Sanjurjo commented to Azaña that Franco was ‘like a child who has had a toy taken away from him’.⁴⁰

Franco’s anger glimmered through the formalised rhetoric of his farewell speech which he made on the parade-ground at the Academy on 14 July 1931. He opened by commenting with regret that there would be no jura de bandera (swearing on the flag) since the laic Republic had abolished the oath. He then surveyed the achievements of the Academy under his direction, including the elimination of vice. He made much of the loyalty and duty that the cadets owed to the Patria and to the Army. He commented on discipline, saying that it ‘acquires its full value when thought counsels the contrary of what is being ordered, when the heart struggles to rise in inward rebellion against the orders received, when one knows that higher authority is in error and acting out of hand’. He made a rambling and convoluted, but nonetheless manifestly bitter, allusion to those who had been rewarded by the Republic for their disloyalty to the monarchy. He made an oblique reference to the Republican officers who held the key posts in Azaña’s Ministry of War as ‘a pernicious example within the Army of immorality and injustice’. His speech ended with the cry ‘¡Viva España!’.⁴¹ He was to comment proudly more than thirty years later ‘I never once shouted ‘¡Viva la República!’.⁴²

After his speech, Franco returned to his office only to be called out several times to appear on the balcony to receive the frenetic applause of those present. When he said farewell to Pacón, who had worked with him as an instructor in tactics and weaponry and as his ADC, the future Caudillo was crying. He packed his things and travelled to his wife’s country house, La Piniella, at Llanera near Oviedo.⁴³

The speech was published as Franco’s order of the day and reached Azaña. Azaña wrote in his diary two days later, ‘Speech by General Franco to the cadets of the Academia General on the occasion of the end of the course. Completely opposed to the Government, guarded attacks against his superiors; a case for immediate dismissal, if it were not the case that today he ceased to hold that command.’ As it was, Azaña limited himself to a formal reprimand (reprensión) in Franco’s service record for the speech to the cadets.⁴⁴

Acutely jealous of his spotless military record, Franco’s resentment on being informed of this reprimand on 23 July may be imagined. Nevertheless, his concern for his career led him to swallow his pride and to write on the next day an ardent, if less than convincing, self-defence, in the form of a letter to the Chief of the General Staff of the V Military Division within whose jurisdiction the Academy lay. It requested him to pass on to the Minister of War, ‘my respectful complaint and my regret for the erroneous interpretation given to the ideas contained in the speech … which I endeavoured to limit to the purest military principles and essences which have been the norm of my entire military career; and equally my regret at his apparent assumption that there is something lukewarm or reserved about the loyal commitment that I have always given, without officious ostentation which is against my character, to the regime which the country has proclaimed, whose ensign hoisted in the central parade ground of the Academy flew over the military solemnities and whose national anthem closed the proceedings.’⁴⁵

Azaña did not regard the obligatory flying of the Republican flag and the playing of the new national anthem as special merits and was not convinced. He seems to have believed that the once favourite soldier of the monarchy needed bringing down a peg or two. His contacts with Franco, in this letter and at a meeting in August, convinced him that he was sufficiently ambitious and time-serving to be easily bent to his purposes. In his basic assessment, Azaña was probably correct, but he seriously misjudged how easy it would be to act on it. If Azaña had given Franco the degree of preferment to which he had become accustomed under the monarchy, it was entirely possible that he might have become the darling of the Republic. As it was, Azaña’s policy towards Franco was to be altogether more restrained although, from the point of view of the Republican Minister of War, it was indeed generous. After losing the Academy, Franco was kept without a posting for nearly eight months which gave him time to devote to his reading of anti-Communist and anti-masonic literature but left him with only 80 per cent of his salary. Without a personal fortune, living in his wife’s house, his career apparently curtailed, Franco harboured considerable rancour for the Republican regime. Doña Carmen encouraged his bitterness.⁴⁶

Throughout the summer of 1931, Army officers fumed at both the military reforms and at what they saw as the anarchy and disorder constituted by a number of strikes involving the anarchosyndicalist Confederación Nacional del Trabajo in Seville and Barcelona.⁴⁷ Given the discontent occasioned by Azaña’s reforms and the monarchist quest for praetorian champions to overthrow the Republic, there were well-founded rumours of possible military conspiracy. The names of Generals Emilio Barrera and Luis Orgaz were the most often cited and they were both briefly put under house arrest in mid-June. Eventually, in September, after evidence of further monarchist plots, Azaña would have Orgaz exiled to the Canary Islands. Azaña was convinced by reports reaching the Ministry that Franco was conspiring with Orgaz and regarded him as the more fearsome of the two (‘el más temible’).⁴⁸ As the summer wore on, Azaña continued to believe that he was on the fringe of some kind of plot. In reports on contacts between Franco’s friend, the militantly right-wing Colonel José Enrique Varela, and the powerful hard-line monarchist boss of Cádiz, Ramón de Carranza, the names of Franco and Orgaz had been mentioned. The Minister wrote in his diary ‘Franco is the only one to be feared’, a tribute to his reputation for seriousness and efficiency. Azaña gave instructions that Franco’s activities be monitored. In consequence, when he visited Madrid in mid-August, the Director-General of Security, Angel Galarza, had him under the surveillance of three policemen.⁴⁹

On 20 August, during his stay in Madrid, Franco visited the Ministry of War and spoke with the under-secretary who reminded him that he was obliged to call on the Minister. He returned on the following day. Azaña criticized his farewell speech to the Academy in Zaragoza. Franco had to swallow the criticism but Azaña was not fooled, writing later in his diary ‘he tries to seem frank but all rather hypocritically’. Azaña warned him, somewhat patronizingly, not to be carried away by his friends and admirers. Franco made protests of his loyalty, although he admitted that monarchist enemies of the Republic had been seeking him out, and seized the opportunity to inform the Minister that the closure of the Academy had been a grave error. When Azaña hinted that he would like to make use of Franco’s services, the young general commented with an ironic smile ‘and to use my services, they have me followed everywhere by a police car! They will have seen that I don’t go anywhere.’ An embarrassed Azaña had the surveillance lifted.⁵⁰

The hypocritical Franco of Azaña’s account is entirely consistent with the document which he had submitted in defence of his speech at the closure of the Academy.^* Azaña was rather condescending towards Franco, confident that he could bring him to heel.⁵¹ It is likely that his miscalculations about Franco derived in part from an assumption that he was as manipulable as his brother Ramón for whom Azaña, who knew him well, felt only impatience and contempt.

At the beginning of May, Franco had been refused permission to act as defender of Berenguer. In fact, the Consejo Supremo del Ejército had annulled the warrant against Berenguer soon afterwards and the Tribunal Supremo ordered the release of Mola on 3 July. However, the issue of ‘responsibilities’ remained deeply divisive, with moderate members of the government, including Azaña, keen to play it down. After a venomous debate, on 26 August, the Cortes empowered the ‘Responsibilities Commission’ to investigate political and adminstrative offences in Morocco, the repression in Catalonia between 1919 and 1923, Primo de Rivera’s 1923 coup, the Dictatorships of Primo and Berenguer and the Jaca court martial.⁵² To the fury of Azaña, who rightly believed that the Commission was dangerously damaging to the Republic, a number of aged generals who had participated in Primo’s Military Directory were arrested at the beginning of September.⁵³

The hostility of some officers and the doubts of the many about the direction the Republic was taking were intensified by the bitter debate over the proposed new constitution which took place between mid-August and the end of the year. Its laic clauses, particularly those which aimed to break the clerical stranglehold on education, provoked hysterical press reaction on the Right. The determination of the Republican and Socialist majority in the Cortes to push these clauses through provoked the resignation of the two most prominent deeply Catholic members of the government, the conservative prime minister Niceto Alcalá Zamora and his Minister of the Interior, Miguel Maura Gamazo. Azaña became prime minister. The right-wing press screamed that ‘the very existence of Spain is threatened’.⁵⁴

Apocalyptic accounts in the right-wing press of anarchy and the implications of the constitutional proposals, together with the continuing determination of the Republican Left to press ahead with the ‘responsibilities’ issue, intensified the fears of Army officers. In the eyes of most of them, some senior generals were being accused of rebellion when all they had done was to put a stop to anarchy in 1923 while others, Berenguer and Fernández de Heredia, were being tried for dealing with the mutiny of Jaca. As the then Captain-General of Aragón, Fernández de Heredia was the man who had signed the death sentences. Posters, books and even a play by Rafael Alberti, Fermín Galán, glorified ‘the martyrs of the Repúblic’. Ramón Franco dedicated his book Madrid bajo las bombas (Madrid beneath the bombs) to ‘the martyrs for freedom, Captains Galán and García Hernández, assassinated on Sunday 14 December 1930 by Spanish reaction incarnated in the monarchy of Alfonso XIII and his government, presided by General Dámaso Berenguer’. The beatification of Galán and García Hernández was something which infuriated all but committed Republicans in the officer corps. Franco was especially outraged that the Republic appeared to be applying double standards in trying to eradicate unsound promotions granted during the 1920s at the same time as pursuing favouritism towards those who had collaborated in its establishment. Ironically, Ramón Franco had been appointed Director-General de Aeronáutica. Franco’s brother abused his position to participate in anarchist conspiracies against the Republic, lost his post and was only saved from a prison sentence by his election as a parliamentary deputy for Barcelona and by the solidarity of his masonic colleagues.⁵⁵

When the Responsibilities Commission began to gather evidence for the forthcoming trial of those involved in the executions after the Jaca uprising, Franco appeared as a witness. In the course of his cross-examination on 17 December 1931, Franco’s answers were dry and to the point. He reminded the court that the code of military justice permitted summary executions to take place without the prior approval of the civilian authorities. However, when asked if he wished to add anything to his statement, he revealingly went on to defend military justice as ‘a juridical and a military necessity, by which military offences, of a purely military nature, and committed by soldiers, are judged by persons militarily prepared for the task’. Accordingly, he declared that, since the members of the Commission had no military experience, they were not competent to judge what had happened at the Jaca court martial.

When proceedings recommenced on the following day, Franco effectively lined himself against one of the cherished myths of the Republic by stating that Galán and García Hernández had committed a military offence, dismissing the central premiss of the Commission that they had carried out a political rebellion against an illegitimate regime. Franco declared ‘receiving in sacred trust the arms of the nation and the lives of its citizens, it would be criminal in any age and in any situation for those who wear a uniform to use those arms against the nation or against the state which gave us them. The discipline of the Army, its very existence and the health of the state demand of us soldiers the bitter disappointments of having to apply a rigid law’.⁵⁶ Although carefully ringed around by declarations of respect for parliamentary sovereignty, it was implicitly a statement that he regarded the defence of the monarchy by the Army in December 1930 to have been legitimate, a view contrary to those held by many in authority in the Republic. His views on the canonization of the Jaca rebels could also easily be deduced from the statement. However, in its implications about a disciplined acceptance of the Republic, his statement was entirely consistent with both his order of the day on 15 April and his farewell speech at the Academy. It may therefore be taken as further evidence that, unlike hotheads such as Orgaz, he was still far from turning his discontent into active rebellion. After a protracted ordeal, both Berenguer and Fernández de Heredia were found innocent by the Tribunal Supremo in 1935.⁵⁷

Franco’s obscure declarations of disciplined loyalty were some distance from the enthusiastic commitment which might have gained him official favour. After the loss of the Academy, the questioning of his promotions, and the working class unrest highlighted by the right-wing press, Franco’s attitude to the Republic could hardly be other than one of suspicion and hostility. It is not surprising that he had to wait some considerable time before he got a posting, but it was an indication both of his professional merits and of Azaña’s recognition of them that, on 5 February 1932, he was posted to La Coruña as Commander of the XV Brigada de Infantería de Galicia, where he arrived at the end of the month. The local press greeted his arrival with the headline ‘A Caudillo of the Tercio’ and praised not only his bravery and military skill but also ‘his noble gifts as a correct and dignified gentleman’. He again took Pacón with him as his ADC. He was delighted to be in La Coruña, near to his mother, whom he visited every weekend.⁵⁸

That Azaña believed that he was treating Franco well may be deduced from the fact that the posting saved the young general from the consequences of a decree published in March 1932 establishing the obligatory retirement of those who had spent more than six months without a posting. The appointment came only a few days before the end of the period after which Franco would have had to go into the reserve and he must have suffered considerable anxiety during the months of waiting. Azaña had deliberately kept him in a state of limbo as a punishment for the farewell speech to the Military Academy and to tame the arrogance of the soldier seen as the golden boy of the monarchy.⁵⁹ In fact, by the point at which he posted Franco to La Coruña, Azaña seems to have decided that he had learned his lesson and might now be recruited to the new regime. Knowing Ramón Franco well, Azaña seemed again to be judging his older brother in the same terms. If that was so, it reflected an under-estimate of Franco’s capacity for resentment. Rather than reacting with gratitude and loyalty as Azaña had hoped, Franco harboured a grudge against him for the rest of his life.

Before their next meeting seven months later, a major crisis in civilian-military relations had occurred, and been resolved. It took the form of a military uprising in August 1932, the origins of which went back to the end of 1931. At that time, in the course of an otherwise peaceful general strike of landworkers in the province of Badajoz in Extremadura, there was bloodshed involving the Civil Guard in Castilblanco, a remote village in the heart of the arid zone known as the Siberia extremeña. Like most of the area, Castilblanco suffered high unemployment. On 30 and 31 December, the workers of the village held peaceful demonstrations. As they were dispersing to their homes, the alcalde (mayor) panicked and instructed the local four-man Civil Guard unit to intervene to break up the crowd. After some scuffling, a Civil Guard opened fire killing one man and wounding two others. In response, the villagers set upon the four guards, beating them to death with stones and knives.⁶⁰ There was an outcry in the right-wing press and the Republican-Socialist government headed by Azaña was accused of inciting the landless labourers against the Civil Guard. Sanjurjo visited Castilblanco, in his capacity as Director-General of the Civil Guard, and blamed the outrage on the extreme leftist Socialist deputy for Badajoz, Margarita Nelken. In a revealing association of the working class and the Moors, he declared that during the collapse of Melilla, even at Monte Arruit, he had not seen similar atrocities. He also demanded justice for the Civil Guard.⁶¹ It was part of a process whereby the military was being convinced that the Republic signified disorder and anarchy. No issue was more indicative of the social abyss which divided Spain. For the Right, the Civil Guard was the beloved benemérita, the guardian of the social order; for the Left, it was a brutal and irresponsible Army of occupation at the service of the rich.

While the country was still reeling from the horror of Castilblanco, there occurred another tragedy. In the village of Arnedo in the province of Logroño in northern Castile, some of the employees of the local shoe factory had been sacked for belonging to the socialist trade union, the Unión General de Trabajadores. During a protest meeting, the Civil Guard, with no apparent provocation, opened fire killing four women, a child and a worker as well as wounding thirty other by-standers, some of whom died in the course of the next few days. In the light of the remarks made by General Sanjurjo after Castilblanco, it was difficult for the incident not to be seen as an act of revenge.⁶² Azaña reluctantly bowed to pressure in the left-wing press and by left-wing deputies in the Cortes to remove Sanjurjo from the command of the Civil Guard and transfer him to the less important post of head of the Carabineros, the frontier and customs police.⁶³ On 5 February 1932, in the batch of postings which sent Franco to Galicia, Sanjurjo was replaced as Director of the Civil Guard by General Miguel Cabanellas.⁶⁴

Under any circumstances, Sanjurjo would have objected to losing the post of Director-General of the Civil Guard. In the context of the leftist campaign against him, his removal was interpreted by the right-wing press, and by himself, as an outrage and a further blow in favour of anarchy. Many on the Right began to see Sanjurjo as a possible saviour and encouraged him to think about overthrowing the Republic. The Castilblanco and Arnedo incidents had wiped away Sanjurjo’s original sin in the eyes of the extreme Right, his failure to act on behalf of the monarchy in April 1931. Now he was seen as the most likely guarantor of law and order, something which was transmuted in rightist propaganda into the defence of ‘the eternal essences of Spain’. Throughout 1932, as the agrarian reform statute and the Catalan autonomy statute painfully passed through the Cortes, the Right would grow ever more furious at what it perceived as assaults on property rights and national unity. Across Spain, petitions in favour of Sanjurjo were signed by many Army officers, although not by Franco. Several efforts were made to push Sanjurjo towards a coup d’état and he began to plot against the Republic.

General Emilio Barrera informed the Italian Ambassador Ercole Durini di Monzo in February that a movement to ‘oppose bolshevism and restore order’ could count on widespread military support including that of Generals Goded and Sanjurjo.⁶⁵ Lerroux, who was determined to see Azaña’s Left Republican-Socialist coalition evicted from power, was in contact with Sanjurjo. They were united in resenting the presence of the Socialists in the government and talked about a possible coup.⁶⁶ Any military conspiracy would have benefited enormously from the participation of Franco. However, he kept his distance out of innate caution when faced with an ill-prepared and highly questionable coup attempt. He distrusted Sanjurjo and had no reason to risk everything when he could continue to exercise his chosen profession within the Republic.

Franco was anxious not to jeopardize his new found comforts. Despite his proven capacity to put up with physical discomfort and to work hard in the most difficult conditions, Franco always enjoyed physical comfort when it was available. In the interval between leaving Morocco and taking on the task of building up the Zaragoza Academy, he had enjoyed a light work load and a full social life. Now, in La Coruña, he was effectively military governor, and had a splendid life-style, with a large house and white-gloved servants. La Coruña was then a beautiful and peaceful seaport and not the bustling and anonymous town that it was to become during the later years of his dictatorship. Franco’s minimal duties as military commander permitted him to be a frequent visitor to the yacht club (Club Náutico) where he was able to indulge, on a small scale, his love of sailing. It was there that he made the acquaintance of Máximo Rodríguez Borrell, who after the war would become his regular fishing and hunting companion. Max Borrell was to be one of his very few close civilian friends and to remain so until his final illness.⁶⁷

The fact that Franco was not prepared to take risks for Sanjurjo does not mean that he was enthusiastic about the political situation. However, he was altogether more cautious than many of his peers and he carefully distanced himself from the coup attempt of 10 August 1932. Nonetheless, as might have been expected given his long African association with Sanjurjo, he knew about its preparation. On 13 July, Sanjurjo visited La Coruña to inspect the local carabineros and had dinner with Franco, discussing with him the forthcoming uprising. According to his cousin, Franco told Sanjurjo at this meeting that he was not prepared to take part in any kind of coup.⁶⁸ The monarchist plotter Pedro Sainz Rodríguez organized a further, and elaborately clandestine, meeting in a restaurant on the outskirts of Madrid. Franco expressed considerable doubts about the outcome of the coup and said he was still undecided about what his own position would be when the moment arrived, promising Sanjurjo that, whatever he decided, he would not take part in any action launched by the government against him.⁶⁹

Franco was sufficiently vague for Sanjurjo to assume that he would support the rising. According to Major Juan Antonio Ansaldo, an impetuous monarchist aviator, conspirator and devoted follower of Sanjurjo, Franco’s ‘participation in the 10 August coup was considered certain’, but ‘shortly before it took place, he freed himself of any undertaking and advised several officers to follow his example’.⁷⁰ It is probably going too far to suggest that Franco first supported Sanjurjo’s plot and then changed his mind. However, given Franco’s labyrinthine ambiguity, it would have been easy for Sanjurjo and his fellow-plotters to allow themselves to take his participation for granted. His hesitations and vagueness while he waited for the outcome to become clear would have permitted such an assumption. It is certainly the case that Franco did nothing to report what was going on to his superiors.

Franco’s final refusal to become part of the conspiracy was based largely on his view that it was inadequately prepared, as he indicated to the right-wing politician, José María Gil Robles, at a dinner in the home of their mutual friend, the Marqués de la Vega de Anzó.⁷¹ He was afraid that a failed coup would ‘open the doors to Communism’.⁷² He was, however, also highly suspicious of the links between Sanjurjo and Lerroux whose involvement in what was being prepared could be perceived in a speech which he made in Zaragoza on 10 July. Aligning himself with the cause of the plotters, Lerroux was trying to push the government to adopt a more conservative line, tacitly threatening the military intervention which would follow if it did not. As ever the outrageous cynic and flatterer of the military, Lerroux declared that, when he came to power, he would reopen the Academia General Militar and reinstall Franco as Director.⁷³

Franco himself visited Madrid at the end of July in order ‘to choose a horse’.⁷⁴ It was rumoured, to his annoyance, that he had come to join the plot. When asked by other officers, as he was repeatedly, if he were part of the conspiracy, he replied that he did not believe that the time had yet come for a rising but that he respected those who thought that it had. He was outraged to discover that some senior officers were openly stating that he was involved. He told them that, if they continued to ‘spread these calumnies’, he would ‘take energetic measures’. By chance, he met Sanjurjo, Goded, Varela and Millán Astray at the Ministry of War. Varela told him that Sanjurjo wanted to sound him out about the forthcoming coup. Sanjurjo at first denied this but agreed to meet Franco and Varela together. Over lunch, Franco told them categorically that they should not count on his participation in any kind of military uprising. In a barely veiled rebuke to Sanjurjo for his behaviour in April 1931, Franco justified his refusal to join the plot on the grounds that, since the Republic had come about because of the military defection from the cause of the monarchy, the Army should not now try to change things.⁷⁵ This meeting could account for the caustic remark made by Sanjurjo in the summer of 1933 during his imprisonment after the coup’s failure: ‘Franquito es un cuquito que va a lo suyito’ (‘little Franco is a crafty so-and-so who looks after himself’).⁷⁶

The Sanjurjo coup was poorly organized and, in Madrid, easily dismantled. It was briefly successful in Seville but, with a column of troops loyal to the government marching on the city, Sanjurjo fled.⁷⁷ The humiliation of part of the Army and the reawakening of the mood of popular fiesta which had initially greeted the establishment of the Republic occasioned by Sanjurjo’s defeat cannot have failed to convince Franco of the wisdom of his prognostications about the rising.⁷⁸ The fact that the armed urban police, the Guardias de Asalto and the Civil Guard had played no part in the rising had underlined their importance. Franco was more convinced than ever that any attempted coup d’état needed to count on their support.

Azaña had long been worried that Franco might be involved in a plot against the regime and in the course of the Sanjurjada had feared that he might be part of the coup. However, when he telephoned La Coruña on 10 August, he was relieved to find that Franco was at his post. Curiously, he very nearly was not. Franco had requested permission for a brief spell of leave in order to take his wife and daughter on a trip around the beautiful fjord-like bays of Galicia, the rías bajas, but it had been refused since his immediate superior, Major-General Félix de Vera, had also been about to go away. Accordingly, when the coup took place, Franco had been in acting command of military forces in Galicia.⁷⁹

The conspiratorial Right, both civilian and military, reached the more general conclusion which Franco had drawn in advance – that they must never again make the mistake of inadequate preparation. A monarchist ‘conspiratorial committee’ was set up by members of the extreme rightist group Acción Española and Captain Jorge Vigón of the General Staff in late September 1932 to begin preparations for a future military rising. The theological, moral and political legitimacy of a rising against the Republic was argued in the group’s journal Acción Española, of which Franco had been a subscriber since its first number in December 1931.⁸⁰ The group operated from Ansaldo’s house in Biarritz. Substantial sums of money were collected from rightist sympathizers to buy arms and to finance political destabilization. One of the earliest operations was to set up subversive cells within the Army itself, and the responsibility for this task was given to Lieutenant-Colonel Valentín Galarza of the General Staff.⁸¹ Galarza had been involved in the Sanjurjada but nothing could be proved against him. Azaña wrote in his diary, ‘I have left without a posting another Lieutenant-Colonel of the General Staff, Galarza, an intimate of Sanjurjo and Goded, who before the Republic was one of the great mangoneadores (meddlers) of the Ministry. Galarza is intelligent, capable and obliging, slippery and obedient. But he is definitely on the other side. There is nothing against him in the prosecution case. Nevertheless, he is one of the most dangerous’.⁸² All that Azaña could do was to leave Galarza without an active service posting. Galarza aimed to recruit key generals and Franco, already a friend, was one of his prime targets.⁸³

Azaña seems to have assumed that Franco’s presence at his post during the Sanjurjada meant that they were now totally reconciled. When the Prime Minister visited La Coruña from 17 to 22 September 1932, however, Franco made slight efforts to disabuse him of the idea. Franco, according to his own account, was no more than stiffly polite to the Prime Minister. In the course of a stay in Galicia during which he was received enthusiastically, Azaña made an effort to be friendly but Franco did not respond with any warmth.⁸⁴ If indeed Franco set out to put distance between himself and the Prime Minister, Azaña seems not to have noticed.^*

Franco’s account probably reflects his desire to wipe away the disagreeable memory of the time when he was Azaña’s subordinate. In fact, at this time, Franco was immensely careful.⁸⁵ When Sanjurjo requested that he appear as his defender in his trial, he refused. His glacial coldness was revealed when he said to his one-time commander, ‘I could, in fact, defend you, but without hope of success. I think in justice that by rebelling and failing, you have earned the right to die’.⁸⁶ Nor did he join the conspiratorial efforts which led eventually to the creation of the Unión Militar Española, the clandestine organization of monarchist officers founded by Lieutenant-Colonel Emilio Rodríguez Tarduchy, a close friend of Sanjurjo, and Captain Bartolomé Barba Hernández, like Galarza an officer of the general staff. The UME emerged finally in late 1933 and was linked, through Galarza, to the activities of Ansaldo and Vigón.⁸⁷

On 28 January 1933, the results of the revisión de ascensos were announced. Franco’s promotion to colonel was impugned, that to general validated. Goded’s promotions to brigadier and major-general were both annulled. However, they were not demoted but rather frozen in their present position in the seniority scale until a combination of vacancies arising and seniority permitted them to catch up with their accelerated promotions. So Franco kept his rank with effect from the date of his promotion in 1926. He nevertheless dropped from number one in the escalafón (list) of brigadier generals to 24, out of 36. Like most of his comrades, Franco smouldered with resentment at what was perceived as a gratuitous humiliation and nearly two years of unnecessary anxiety.⁸⁸ Years later, he still wrote of promotions being ‘pillaged’ (despojo de ascensos) and of the injustice of the entire process.⁸⁹

In February 1933, Azaña had him posted to the Balearic Islands as comandante general, ‘where he will be far from any temptations’.⁹⁰ It was a post which would normally have gone to a Major-General and may well have formed part of Azaña’s efforts to attract Franco into the Republican orbit, rewarding him for his passivity during the Sanjurjada. After the preferments with which he had been showered by the King and Primo de Rivera, Franco did not perceive command of the Balearic Islands as a reward. In his draft memoirs, he wrote that it was less than his seniority merited (postergación).⁹¹ More than two weeks after the appointment, he had still not made the reglamentary visit to the Ministry of War to report on his impending move. The Socialist leader, Francisco Largo Caballero, told Azaña that Franco had been heard to boast that he would not go.⁹² Finally on 1 March, having been in Madrid for two days, he came to say his farewells to Azaña, in his capacity as Minister of War. The delay was a carefully calculated act of disrespect. Azaña perceived that Franco was still furious about the annulment of promotions but the subject did not arise, and they spoke merely of the situation in the Balearic Islands.⁹³ The new military commander arrived at Palma de Mallorca on 16 March 1933, and with Mussolini’s ambitions heightening tension in the Mediterranean, dedicated himself to the job of improving the defences of the islands.

Throughout 1933, the fortunes of the Azaña government declined. By the beginning of September, the Republican-Socialist coalition was in tatters. Right-wing success in blocking reform had undermined the faith of the Socialists in Azaña’s Left Republicans. On 10 September, the increasingly conservative and power-hungry Lerroux began to put together an all-Republican cabinet. It was reported in ABC that he had offered Franco the job of Minister or undersecretary of War. Although he came from the Balearic Islands to Madrid for discussions with the Radical leader, Franco finally declined the offer.⁹⁴ The post was one of those to which he aspired, but the Lerroux cabinet of 12 September was expected to last for no more than a couple of months since it could not command a parliamentary majority. Convinced that the only way to implement reform was to form a government on their own, the Socialists refused to rejoin a coalition with Azaña and it was widely assumed that President Alcalá Zamora would soon be forced to call general elections. In such conditions, taking over a ministry would have given Franco no opportunity to introduce the changes which he regarded as essential.

During the campaign for the November 1933 elections, with the possibility that the Socialists might win and establish a government bent on sweeping reform, Franco, although busy and fulfilled in the Balearics, was pessimistic about the prospects for the armed forces. He talked to friends of leaving the Army and going into politics. According to Arrarás, rumours to this effect reached rightist circles in Madrid and he was visited in Palma by a messenger from the increasingly powerful Catholic authoritarian party, the Confederación Española de Derechas Autónomas (the Spanish Confederation of Autonomous Right-Wing Groups). The envoy allegedly offered Franco inclusion as a candidate in both the CEDA’s Madrid list and in another provincial list in order to guarantee his election. He refused outright.⁹⁵ He did, however, vote for the CEDA in the elections.⁹⁶ With the Left divided and the anarchists abstaining, a series of local alliances between the Radicals and the CEDA ensured their victory. The Radicals got 104 deputies and the CEDA 115 to the Socialists’ 58 and the Left Republicans’ 38. The subsequent period of government by a coalition of the ever-more corrupt Radicals and the CEDA would see Franco come in from the cold, as he perceived his comfortable exile in the Balearics, and much nearer to the centre of political preferment.

^* This differs from the version given by Franco to his friend and biographer, Joaquín Arrarás. According to this version, Azaña said ‘I have re-read your extraordinary order to the cadets and I would like to believe that you did not think through what you wrote’, to which Franco claims to have replied, ‘Señor Ministro, I never write anything that I haven’t thought through beforehand’. Azaña’s version, written on the day, is altogether more plausible than that recounted by Franco six years later in the heat of the civil war. Joaquin Arrarás, Franco (Valladolid, 1937) p. 166.

^* He later claimed that he had gone to great lengths not to be photographed with the Prime Minister, pointing out that his superior, Major General Vera, took priority. Franco also said that, by using the pretext that Doña Carmen was unwell, he had avoided being present at a morning reception given on Sunday 19 September by the La Coruña Sporting Club for Azaña and his friend and host, Santiago Casares Quiroga, the Minister of the Interior, and a prominent gallego. There exist photographs of them together during the visit to the city, next to each other and certainly with Franco nearer to Azaña than was General Vera. Similarly, the local press of the time reported Franco’s presence at Azaña’s table at a much more lavish occasion than the morning function, a dinner given that same evening at the Hotel Atlántida, in La Coruña and again at another lunch on Wednesday 21 September. See the photograph in Xosé Ramón Barreiro Fernández, Historia contemporánea de Galicia 4 vols (La Coruña, 1982) II, p. 241.