Memorial to forgotten bravery

What chance did they have, those young men who marched into harm’s way in their vain attempt to free their Spanish homeland all those years ago?

It was in the hope of finding some trace of their brave but doomed venture that I originally suggested we take a holiday in the Val d’Aran, the only bit of Spain that lies on the northern, French, side of the Pyrenees. That’s where the UNE, the National Union of Spain, attempted to invade Spanish territory in October 1944.

Republican soldiers entering the Val d’Aran

The men who went in were former soldiers of the Spanish Republic, who’d recently been fighting alongside the Resistance in France, in exile after they’d been defeated in a Civil War precipitated by a mutinous uprising led by senior officers in the army. One of the early leaders of the rebellion, before Franco came to power, was General Emilio Mola, who declared:

We need to sow terror… We must leave a sensation of dominion by eliminating without scruple or vacillation all those who don’t think the way we do.

These really weren’t nice guys.

Now, the men who invaded the Val d’Aran were organised by the Spanish Communist Party, which was very much under the thumb of Joseph Stalin, dictator of the Soviet Union. Many of the principal leaders of the Party were in exile in Stalin’s capital Moscow and weren’t, therefore, necessarily particularly nice guys either.

The UNE soldiers, though, seem to have been a rather different crowd. They saw what they were doing as a genuine fight for liberty in their country, for a restoration of the old Republic. Their main objectives were to seize the administrative capital of the Val d’Aran, the town of Vielha, and invite what was left of the Spanish Republican government in exile to return there, giving it more status through its presence on Spanish soil.

The other main objective was to seize the then still incomplete tunnel which was the main link between the Valley and the rest of Spain, to prevent Franco sending forces through it.

The invasion was the brainchild of a remarkable man, Jesus Monzón, who’d managed to get control over the Spanish Communist Party when its previous leaders had cleared off into exile. Highly charismatic and an excellent organiser, he rebuilt the Party, both in France where many of its members were living in exile, and in Spain itself where it became the most significant clandestine opposition to Franco throughout the time of his dictatorship. 

After the Allied landings in France in June 1944, Monzón thought Spain’s chance had come. If the Republic could re-form in Aran, maybe the Allies who were now clearly winning the war against the Fascist regimes in Germany and Italy, might turn their attention to Spain next, using a government in Viehla as a spearhead.

He ordered the UNE to cross the border. Which it did, on 19 October 1944.

It seems to me that he may also have been in a hurry because he rather suspected that once the lot in Moscow got back, his time in the leadership would be over. If he did think that, I have to say that I reckon he was right.

At first, the invasion went well. A number of villages fell quickly, as well as the town of Bossòst, where the little army set up its command post. 

That was one of the first places we visited in my hunt for traces of the invasion. We found absolutely none. In fact, a man I spoke to in the Tourist Information Centre, told me, “they came, then they went, and we don’t want them back.”

There were two major disappointments awaiting the invaders. The first was that, despite Monzón’s promises, there was no national general strike across Spain in support of the operation. The second was that he was proved completely mistaken in his belief that the local people would greet the soldiers with open arms as liberators. On the contrary, they were sullen. It’s likely that after three years of bitter Civil War, they had no desire to start again, and might even regard a regime like Franco’s as a preferable alternative.

That may be the root of the kind of view the man in the Information Centre expressed to me. It may also explain why, when we went looking for a plaque on the wall of a building in the village of Les, we found nothing, though there was a blank space, discoloured in a way that suggests that it may once have held one. And a panel we found on a mountain path, marking a point through which the men had passed, had been defaced.

Forgetfulness: where a plaque once hung?

There is, however, in the cemetery of the village of Es Bòrdes a plaque over a mass grave. It names five of the fighters who were buried there and pays tribute to others who have never been identified. And it expresses the thanks of the French resistance to those men who’d fought alongside them in France, before dying in the Val d'Aran. There is even a yearly ceremony over the grave.

In the cemetery of Es Bordès
The former fighters of the FFI [French Resistance]
to their comrades who died in combat for liberty
19 October 1944.
Adalberto Torres
Mauricio Moga
Francisco Urzay
Pablo Ulldemolins
Miguel Paredes
and to the unidentified

The church steeple in the village is also still pockmarked with bullet holes, from the firefight the UNE soldiers waged against military police in the tower. Where I suspect some at least of the men in the cemetery fell.

Bullet holes in the church tower at Es Bòrdes

The commander of the operation was a smart cookie, Colonel Vicente López Tovar. He’d always had his doubts about the viability of Monzón’s plan. He decided that, at all costs, he would keep his lines of retreat well protected, so that he could get his men back to France if necessary.

Sadly, it did indeed prove necessary. When they got to Viehla, they found it strongly defended. As for seizing the tunnel, which is beyond the town, that was entirely out of the question. In fact, within a short time, Franco had built up his forces in the valley to 50,000 men, and they had tanks and heavily artillery, which Colonel López’s 7000 men certainly didn’t.

On the 27th of October, López ordered his men back out of the Valley. In the end, the boldly named ‘Operation Reconquest of Spain’ lasted nine days. It cost the invaders nearly 500 dead, wounded or prisoners (many of the prisoners were executed) and the defenders nearly 300.

It was over and it had failed to achieve any of its goals. The Allies, far from enthusiastic about getting into another fight, saw no reason to intervene in Spain. Which suited them, since they could already see that the coming conflict would be against the Soviet Union. It soon emerged as the Cold War, in which Franco became a willing collaborator.

As for the Communist leadership, Santiago Carrillo, soon to emerge as the new strong man of the Party, initially talked of it as a glorious example of anti-Fascist resistance. He then changed his tune and denounced the organisers as traitors who’d worked to undermine the Party. Carrillo was undoubtedly behind the murder of three men close to Monzón. Ironically, Monzón himself was only saved from murder when the Franco regime arrested him. He served thirteen years in prison. While there, he renewed contact with his ex-wife in Mexico; on his release, he joined her there and they remarried. He played no further part in politics.

The Communist Party purged itself of those involved in the invasion. Even Vicente López was expelled, poor reward for his intelligent command of the doomed operation. Not nice guys, like I said, the Communist leadership.

To many, especially the powerful, the invasion was an embarrassment. 

The operation failed and the men who took part may have been misguided. But they put their lives on the line to try to end a dictatorship. I may be over-sentimental, but I feel they deserve more of a tribute than they’ve received. 

Hence this blog post.