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THE SPANISH AFFAIR. CHRONICLES OF THE XXTH CENTURY
My old man left sweet home Granada at that age that I
left sweet home Malaga and threw the die on the board of life. Dad got his
accordion and his riffle and joined the Blue Soldiers on their way to Russia,
to fight back the Reds. He got his post with the Germans on the battlefield
around Saint Petersburg, where, according to all the historians, the fight was
more bloody and the carnage more terrible. My dad was a brave man, a Spanish of
the old school, blood of the Conquerors, serving his God and his
Country in a real war, the last crusade of the second millennium. Finally he
fell in a ambuscade; was shot in the leg, but he managed to kill ‘em all, and laid waiting for the rescue patrol in the snow.
While bleeding to death he swore to God to offer him his first child, life for
life. God got his words in His heart and kicked the ass of the rescue patrol,
they came at time to cut the bleeding, but too late to save his wounded leg. He
was taken out of the battlefield and driven to Berlin.
As a matter of fact he was healing from his missing half-leg
when the allies began to demolish Germany, town after town.
The Bombing Air Forces reached Berlin right when he was able to stand on his
feet and walk his way back home. The embassies were shut, he was left alone
to fight his way back to Spain through the territory of the allies. He made it
with a fake passport through Switzerland, and France.
Back in Spain, a hero, an an educated man,
he claimed for economic compensations from both States, Spain and Germany;
which he got, and with it he raised a family of his own. He met his woman, my
mother, in Madrid; she was from Seville, another child of the Civl War; they married and moved south to
Malaga, where I was born.
Dad didn’t need to work to make his living, but he was
a very active fellow and he became a watchmaker; the only one in town at those
days. He raised nine children, among whom I was my dad's firsborn; a pretty little
boy, me, very much adored by mom and dad.
When I became twelve years old my dad sent me away
with the Order of the Carmelites, to be raised according to the old
philosophy, healthy mind in healthy body. They did a job so good that at
the end of four years they could not keep me anymore, too wild and
independent for the priest order. But Faith was in my soul pretty much deep.
Anyway, at eighteen I realized that to raise a family so enormous my
dad and mom were actually doing a lot of sacrifices; it was my time to join
them.
Eighteen years old, you know? It is then when
self-consciousness and sexual appeal grows so intense that you feel like the
peacock in its pride, you want to show your body in its colorful tones and your
mind in its entire spectrum. Jeans, shoes, jacket, everything got to be the
most expensive and fashionable.
When I began to realize how much money my parents had
to take away from my little brothers to feed my pride, I said, “fuck it”. My jeans broke, “mom, don’t even think about
it, mend it, stick another piece from an old jean, and I’ll be the more happy
boy in the world”. It was so that I began my hippy career. I stopped cutting my
hair and buying me fancy clothes. Normal people began to think that I was doing
drugs. Normal people began to stone me.
Nineteen and I had never touched alcohol,
tobacco, drugs, and hookers. Hippies? Yeah, there was a colony in a little town
eight kms away from my village. I knew Antonio and
Rosa, real hippy staff, through a friend of mine. I like them, people that
spoke very little, and smiled all the time. But they smoke that shit, hashish,
all the time too. Nice people. I had my own mind for that matter, I need no shit
to feel good, free, and great. So, I got me a job like DJ to pay my needs.
People? They will always stone me anyway. I had my
books and my guitar, my girlfriend and my soul to face the world and the
universe. The Spanish Political History interested me pretty much, and the
reason was obvious.
My father kept himself all his life on Franco’s side. I was good at
History, Politics and Sport; the Spanish Civil War called my attention very much.
After a second thought it became pretty clear to me that the Spanish Civil War was
kindled by the International Situation going on. The USA and allies were to
stop the expansion of the Reds from the North to the South under the Stalin
Era; and they financed, under the tables, the rising of the Right Parties in
Europe as a wall against the Stalin Machine of Propaganda.
But when Power needs a partner it don’t look much to the
personality of its puppet. All that Power wants is a pawn to execute its order.
And it was out of this Power that Mussolini and Hitler came about.
In the beginning they were meant to be a wall against
the Reds coming south of the Marches created at the end of the First World War.
Spain too fell under the dominium of that Power, and the Right Party was
promoted and produced to cut short the rise of the Reds. But, as matters goes
in this world, it came to happen a wonder.
The Germans astonished the entire world with a
generation of genius such a Werner von Brown, Max Planck, Einstein, and so on,
the Fathers of the Atomic Age. Never in the History of Mankind the world had
produced a generation equal to that one. They were all Germans. And Germany
woke up to the fact that she needed no one, she was the greatest of the nations
of the world and she could crash all by herself the world of the Reds.
It was at this point that those who financed Hitler’s
adventure and Mussolini realized that they had created a monster. And suddenly,
to counterbalance the independence of this new monster, they began to finance
the European left Parties.
UK saw it very clear. If Germany invaded France, with
Spain as ally, Spain would take over France, and would give Germany a free hand
to invade England. Spanish Left Party had to be financed and get the Power. The
Invasion of France from North, South and East would make of France the German
bridge to England. And so the Spanish mental conflict began.
First he Right was financed to hold the Power against
the Reds, and now the Spanish Reds were financed to gain the Power, even at the
cost of a Civil War. Spain had to be neutralized. And this was a priority to
the British Empire. Americans would bend to the will of the British Crown. The
Second World War was coming. The Spanish Civil War was unavoidable and
necessary for the sake of Europe and England.
Can you imagine what should have happened if Franco
would have joined Hitler and sticking to Hitler’s Plan, if Spain had invaded South
France while Italy was entering France from the East?
The Scientist generation most powerful ever known by
the History of Mankind to that day was matched by a generation of German
military commanders equal to the Generals of Napoleon and brave as the Captains
of Alexander; their weakness was Obedience to Hitler, a man brought on to the
stage by that Power who cares nothing for genius and only wants its servants to
kneel before its will. A man like that was inferior to the German generation of
Scientist and Commanders born to make the world to tremble. And so, the Spanish
Civil War was signed by the International Players for the sake of Europe’s
Salvation.
Who would come out of the Spanish Civil War as a
victor was not important at all. The bloody war will bleed Spain resources to
the death. She would be of no weight in the Politics of the Forties.
When Franco won the war he was pretty much in the
secret of the Powers and he would not get his country mixed in the game of the
gods and queens of this world. “Let them fuck themselves” was his motto. The
youngest General in those days’ Europe had the key of the European future. Had
Franco joined Germany following Hitler’s Plan, what would have been of the
invasion of England?
What reason had Franco to turn his back to Hitler’s
Plan and give the British Enemy a respire? Just one, repugnancy. He felt the
Politics of the Powers to be disgusting to his soul.
Of course Germany and Italy had to finance the Spanish
Right Party. Of course UK and the URSS and France had to back up the Left in
Spain. And to top this game the Bourbon King in the exile needed the Civil War
to make his comeback to the throne of his fathers.
Spanish People was sold and ready to be crucified. And
there was nothing that Pilates, the USA, could do to save the Spanish Nation.
Judas, the Bourbon King, had sold Spain to the European Powers. The ruin of
Spain would be the Salvation of France and England.
The entire world was astonished when Franco simply
dismissed everybody, turned his back to Hitler and proclaim his neutrality
before the world war coming. As a matter fact Franco was that uncontrollable
factor reserved to the Gods. None thought of the rising possibility of such a
Commander, equal to the Commanders of the great age of the Spanish Empire of
the Sixteenth Century. Among the mediocrity by the Powers financed to play
their politics, Franco was the Spanish Soul in its classical essence.
But Don Quixote was in bed, he was finished to the
Politics of the Forties. France, England and the World could thank to that man
for not throwing the Spanish lot on the side of the German Axis. Another man
would had taken the offer of Germany and Italy in the name of the hungry people
of Spain after that bloody civil war. In doing so Franco would have saved the
Spanish people from the years of hunger they went through during the forties,
but in doing so he would have betrayed the Spanish soul.
Spain never fought for Empire. Spain found the Empire
without looking for it. It was a gift of the Gods. England and Germany and
Russia were the three Nations in the European Board which fought for Empire
from their very birth, and committed genocides, and went through massacre after
massacre for the sake of the Empire, and never doubt it to go engage Europe in
a world war for the sake of the Empire. The Second World War was just that,
another playtime of Emperors.
But by that time the danger of self-destruction was so
great, Germany was so close to reach the Atomic Bomb! All that Hitler needed
was a little bit of time. Franco stole from Hitler that piece of time that, if
he had it, would had arisen Germany to the Throne of God.
Franco was old, and I was young. Franco’s glory was
for the book of History. His world was gone and a new world was dawning. His
old rule had no meaning anymore. He saved Spain from falling in the Second
World War, good, but his Dictatorship, however healthy for a Nation still
floating in the sea of the Civil War Memory, had to go. I couldn’t breathe my
freedom, under his law. The massacres committed during the days previous to the
Civil War and immediately during and after the Civil War were fresh in the
minds of the people. Franco’s Law had maintained the hate between neighbors
under control, but my generation had to do nothing with those murders and violence
and massacres and killing in the name of Reds and the Blues. Leave the
Past alone. Let the Past rest in peace.
The southern Spanish old men were still living in the
days of the Civil War, fifty years after. When I sat with them, while working
on the fields, all they could speak about was the Civil War. How the brother of
a friend of his, or the father of that friend of a friend of his, were led to
the cemetery and shot in the head, cold blood, by the Reds, the days before
Franco, because, simply, he worked for a señorito.
According to the old men who survived that epoch, the
Reds began to massacre, cold blood, the people. They thought Stalin was on his
side, and Stalin was God. Those few years before the coming of Franco the Reds gave themselves
to massacre their neighbors, for no reason, just for having working work for a
rich landlord. They killed cold blood their friends, the brothers of their
friends, the fathers of their friends, and they did it in their hometowns, in
the face of their relatives and beloved ones. The Spanish Reds thought their
victory unquestionable. There would be no Day of Retribution. They would do in
Spain what Stalin had done in Russia, annihilate the Capitalist and the
servants of the Capitalists, no mercy, not even for your brother.
The PSOE and the Communists Party in Power were
promoting this massacring in the name of the Red Revolution. They had the
blessing of the Anti-German European Powers.
When, then, Franco came up, the Day of Retribution
followed him. And the brothers and the sons of those poor men who were killed
cold blood got the guns and began to shoot cold blood the killers of their
dead.
While Franco was advancing to Madrid and extending his warfield to the entire Peninsula, the Day of
Retribution was flying on the wings of his army. The bones of the people killed by the
Reds met the bones of theirs killers in the same graveyard. There was no mercy.
You killed my father, I kill your mother, I rape your sister, I hang your
brother, I butch your father and butch you brother. Even when Franco won the War,
the butchery kept going on. Franco had to come with a Law to stop the
Retribution Day. He told the Guardia
Civil to rule all the people by the same Law. The killing was over.
And the killing was over. But the hate, he could not
command the people to stop hating each other. Fifty years after the hate was
still alive. I could breathe it, touch it, weight it, cut a piece and give it a
name. Spanish people was so ignorant! They had given up themselves to wine and
cigarettes and prostitutes. Hashish was conquering the new generation. It
needed not a genius to see that advancing on that road in few decades Spain
would be the Main Consumer of Cocaine in the World.
I was very critic with Spanish Politics before my
journey to India. After that journey, once I came out of my Soul’s Crisis a
victor, I could not stand the Spanish atmosphere anymore. To those guys to get
drunk, pay a prostitute, fuck their friend’s girlfriend, do drugs, that was
Life to them. I could not share with them the most simple thought. From a Dictature they jumped to Democracy without preparation at
all. And the old ghost, Right-Left, came out of the grave to fill the air with
the same old hate.
If you were not one of them you were a fucking
Fascist, or a fucking Red for that matter. I mean, they were nuts. And if I
told them so, that they were ignorants,,man, they raised the hell on me. I was nothing but a fucking
hippy with no interest at all in People’s Freedom. Hey, they thought they could
speak about Freedom to me. People that would never had the chance to see other
thing but the walls of their houses they were telling me that I was nothing
because I did not believe in Politics. And there was nothing I could say about it.
I don’t believe in Einstein, but I love Physics.
Politics is a Science, politicians are men. How can you speak about Physics if
you have never read Newton? You are a Red and you have never read Lenin’s Work
nor study the Soviet Revolution?
I mean, they were so funny that I lost interest in
them. The effect of the new-born-Democracy on the Spanish people was an amazing
subject for a student. Pretty much like those poor idiots who speak about
Hinduism and they had never, and they never will, most probably, walk their
bones through any of the big cities of India.
He who leads his life according to the sayings of
someone else, he is a fool. You got to see for yourself the world as it is.
People, everybody, got to be given a sabbatical year before getting in the
University or into the Work-line production. The new system of slavery sucks.
People is born, people is bred, people is chained to a working line production,
people get old, people die. Fuck the system! Break free! Change the world! Save
your children from slavery! Raise them to be free! Gather together, forget
about Right, Left, and all that staff. Those are the chains they slave you with
to their working line productions. Don’t you see?
A Martian coming in holydays to Earth would had feel
the same way I was feeling in those days. The Spanish had the chance to break
free and all they could speak was of Right and Left, Communism and Fascism, the
same old bullshit fifty years later.
Franco’s stupidity was revealed the day he trusted the
Spanish Liberty to the Bourbons, the same house which led the Nation timer
after time from one Civil War to the next Civil War. The effect of the rising
of the Bourbon Throne on the Nation would let feel its insanity in no time.
What was it to me, anyway? When a blind man wants to
fall in the hole, you are only making fun of yourself in trying to stop him.
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