All language subtitles for Granada-SpanishCivilWar6-Victory-and-Defeat

The River Ebro was where the
Spanish republic's fate was to be sealed.

July 28th 1938.

In the Ebro valley, the republic,
now close to desperation,

launched its greatest offensive.

Much of the republican army
was thrown into the battle.

A fight not just for ground,
but supremely for time.

Juan Negrín, the
prime minister, knew that

European war against
Hitler was now close

If only the republic could hang on,

it might be rescued by the
anti-fascist allies in that war.

The Ebro was the most
costly battle of the civil war,

but for the republicans it
came at the end of two years of

bitter, unsuccessful fighting.

Two years which had
transformed republican hopes

into memories of failure.

Now failure was behind them.

The soldiers of the republic
who crossed the river that day

were excited to be
on the offensive again.

This was great, that we
were crossing the Ebro

and going to the other side
to have a go at them,

and push them back, and
obviously we were hoping to

chase them altogether,
on that front anyway.

This optimism defied the
experience of two years of defeat.

Once again the popular army
was attempting to match

the enemy in conventional
warfare, which would lead to

a battle of attrition in which,
the republic stood no chance.

The attack across the Ebro
was probably doomed

... before it began.

The nationalists now held
over two thirds of Spain.

They had split the
republican zone into two.

Valencia was under threat.
The all-out offensive

across the Ebro was
meant to ward off this danger.

The idea came largely
from Juan Negrín,

the enigmatic prime minister
of the republic,

a right-wing socialist and a
distinguished professor of medicine.

Negrín mirrored many of the
contradictions of the republic.

He believed that the
only way to fight the war

was to halt the revolution,
and bring the army

under disciplined, central control,

with himself in command.

In this Negrín was closely
supported by the communists

They were tough ... they took
orders ultimately from Moscow.

Their vision of democracy
was a world away from Negrín's

Yet he was committed to
working with the communists

not least because the
republic needed Soviet aid.

Negrín was a subtle,
unreadable person.

No-one knew his real mind.

At the same moment that
he was secretly initiating

peace feelers to Franco,
he was also organising

the supreme
offensive of the war.

At first the nationalists
were taken by surprise.

The republican thrust drove
them back in hasty retreat.

The hills overlooking
the small town of Gandesa,

25 miles inside
nationalist territory,

now became
the new front line.

General Franco rushed
forward reinforcements

pulled out of other battlefronts.

In huge prolonged battles, like this,

Franco's army had the advantage.

It was more mobile,
and in the nationalist army,

orders were more
efficiently communicated.

It benefited from
German and Italian aid,

while the republic's
foreign aid had diminished

with the renewed closure
of the French border.

Determined not to yield
another yard of ground,

Franco took personal command.

The Ebro attack was
halted, and turned into

four months of
slogging, static battle.

The largest and most savage
conflict of the whole war.

Hill 666 was one of the republic's
most advanced positions.

It became a focus of
nationalist counter attacks.

Bill Bailey and other
international brigaders were helping

Spanish republican troops
to defend the hill.

There was one case
where we prayed,

literally prayed,
for darkness to come,

so we could at least get up and
stretch our legs ... move around.

And the bastards
when nighttime came

they threw more shells at us.

Then it was a question of
watching blazing rockets

wasting in air as they
would hit the mountainside

and throw tons of rock at you.

It wasn't so much the
artillery hitting you, it was

thousands of splinters of rock,
splashing all over the place.

I have to say that it was one
of my most bitter experiences,

and I'll speak truthfully and
say that there were many times

when I figured I would
never get off this rock.

In the end, the republican
troops were forced off Hill 666,

leaving its slopes
littered with their dead.

Now began the retreat.

A retreat which was only to end,
with the end of the war.

Enrique Lister was a
republican core commander

at the Battle of the Ebro.

We found ourselves in a situation

where we couldn't give up
any of our positions.

So it was a battle of attrition in which
we were losing our best troops,

but we had no choice.

By now, there was no choice.

Once again the popular army
had attempted to match the enemy

in regular combat ... and failed.

Just at it had at
Brunete, Belchite, Teruel,

the popular army found it
could not defeat the enemy

in conventional fighting
for defended positions.

The republic had put down the
revolution behind its own lines.

This meant the government also
avoided revolutionary military tactics.

Guerrilla war, invented in Spain as
a people's answer to regular armies,

was never seriously
attempted in the civil war.

As it had done before, the
popular army fought with courage.

But once again,
in a battle of attrition

it could not prevail
against the superior weight

and professionalism
of the nationalists.

Once again, the republican forces
were hammered into retreat.

Behind them, they left vast
quantities of precious equipment.

Failure in battle hardened
Negrín's resolve to save the republic.

One strategy was negotiation.

The previous May he had
published a moderate

13 point declaration for victory.

In reality, a hint that the war
could be ended by mediation.

Horrified by the sum
of death and destruction,

Negrín nonetheless
remained determined that

a democratic Spain should
emerge from the ruins.

His second strategy, pursued
the same democratic aims.

If peace could not be negotiated,

he would fight on in the
hope that a greater war

between democracy and fascism
would explode in Europe.

A war which would
engulf Spain's own conflict.

But Franco would
have no compromise.

Total victory was within reach.

He wanted nothing less.

It was an ugly paradox
for Negrín, that as he saw it,

only Hitler, Franco's ally,
could save him.

For it was Germany's
continued expansionism,

which he hoped would
touch off war in Europe.

Then Negrín hoped that
Britain and France would welcome

the Spanish republic as an ally.

In 1936, Hitler had occupied
the Rhineland with troops.

In March 1938, the Germans
marched into Austria.

Now in September 1938,
it was Czechoslovakia's turn.

At Munich, the statesmen
of Britain and France

met Hitler and Mussolini to
see if the peace could be saved.

For the British and
French governments,

non-intervention in Spain
had been one way

of trying to postpone
a conflict with Hitler.

In spite of the blatant foreign aid
to both sides in the civil war

they were still
clinging to this policy.

Now came the news of the
democracies pact with Hitler.

Once again the western
democracies had chosen

the path of appeasement.

While Neville Chamberlain,
the British Prime Minister,

told cheering Londoners
that it was "peace in our time",

Negrín faced the truth.
Time was against him.

When the Second World War
came, it was to be too late

to save the Spanish republic.

Munich also lost the republic
its only effective ally ... Stalin.

The Soviet leaders decided
to change their whole strategy.

Munich destroyed Stalin's policy
of building an anti-fascist alliance.

in which the western democracies
would stand together with Russia

to block the expansion
of Germany and Italy.

Now Stalin saw himself isolated.

To gain time, he was
eventually to sign

the Nazi-Soviet pact with Hitler.

Now, as his anti-fascist
alliance plan collapsed,

Stalin's support for the
Spanish republic was abandoned.

Hitler must not be provoked

Soviet aid to Spain dwindled.

Hitler's policy towards
Spain changed too,

but in the opposite direction.

Realizing nothing he did there would
cause Britain and France to go to war,

he dramatically increased his aid,

now keen to end the Spanish
war as quickly as possible.

There was a huge increase in
German military aid to the nationalists.

Franco had sent an urgent
request for more weapons

to clinch the Battle of the Ebro.

In return, he agreed
to grant Germany

generous mining
concessions in Spain,

and he promised to pay the
costs of the German Condor Legion.

But Mussolini decided to
reduce his aid to Franco.

He accepted the proposal of
the non-intervention committee.

to withdraw foreign volunteers
fighting in the civil war

10,000 Italians,
nearly half the total in Spain,

now embarked for home.

Those who stayed
continued fighting

with the nationalist
army at the Ebro.

Negrín also agreed
that the foreign volunteers

on the republican side
should be withdrawn.

He was hoping that
non-intervention by foreign powers

might at last become a reality.

The last grim stages
of the Battle of the Ebro

were still being fought,
when on October 29th,

the international brigaders
took their farewell.

The people of Barcelona
showed their gratitude

to these survivors of
the 40,000 foreigners

who had left their homes to
fight for the Spanish republic.

La Pasionaria spoke
proudly to the crowds.

"These men reached our country
as crusaders for freedom.

"They gave up everything,
their country, home and fortune,

"fathers, mothers, wives,
brothers, sisters and children.

"And they came and
told us: 'We are here'

"'Your cause,
Spain's cause, is ours.

"'It is the cause of all advanced
and progressive mankind'."

The departure of foreigners
hardly affected

the republic's fighting strength.

They had mattered in the
first days through their discipline,

and their message of solidarity,

but they had not
been militarily decisive.

By now the brigades were
mostly manned by Spaniards.

Most volunteers went home,

only brigaders from fascist countries
had no home to go to.

But the war went on.

By mid November,
Franco had reconquered

the ground he had lost to
the republic in the first two days

of the Ebro offensive.

Just before Christmas 1938,

the nationalists crossed
the Ebro into Catalonia

The fresh aid from
Germany had arrived

and was proving decisive.

The nationalist advance was
now meeting little resistance.

By mid-January 1939,
Tarragona had fallen.

By the end of January,
Franco was nearing Barcelona.

The only party utterly united

in determination to fight on
were the communists.

They used much needed warplanes
to shower leaflets on Barcelona

urging the population
to continue the struggle.

But Negrín was
playing a double game.

Outwardly he went along with
the communists ... he had little choice.

In secret he pursued his
search for a negotiated peace.

But the whole political
fabric of the republic

was beginning to
fall apart around Negrín.

Many resented his apparent sympathy
with the hard communist line.

The anarchist, whose dreams
of revolution were dead,

were still fighting,
but they were fighting

for a republic
they didn't believe in.

So were the Catalan nationalists,
whose treasured autonomy,

had been eroded by the
government's centralist line.

The republic was no longer
what it had been.

The power of the Catalan government
had been wiped out by Negrín,

to such an extent, that at
one point, I began to ask myself

if I was doing the right thing to
continue taking part in the fighting at all.

While the communists were
trying to boast of public morale,

others used their most
brutal means to destroy it.

For months now, Barcelona had
been the target of bombing raids.

The previous March, Italian
bombers had battered the city

in waves that kept
coming for 48 hours.

The port and the city centre had
been particularly badly damaged.

The air attacks had
continued ever since,

but those March raids
stayed in Barcelona's memory

as the most terrifying.

If I tell you that more
than half of Barcelona

fled to shelter in the hills and
woods around Barcelona,

you'll understand what
the bombings were like.

I was assigned to the casualty
post in the Carrer de Sepúlveda,

and whenever there was a raid,
which was about every three hours,

we were told where to go to pick up
those not seriously wounded.

Sometimes, while we were
doing this, we were caught

by the next bombing, so
we had to start all over again.

A lot of people from the Red Cross,
plus a lot of those whose cars

had been commandeered for this,
were killed in those attacks.

The bombing of Barcelona
came after the air-raids on

Madrid, Durango, and Guernica.

But the bombing of Barcelona
went on for months.

Aimed at cowing
the civilian population

by its destructive power,
it generated a sullen hatred.

Since the republican zone
had been cut in two,

there were fewer refugees
coming into Barcelona.

Those who did traveled on
north as fast as possible.

But they had all
told the same story.

A story of what took place
when the nationalists had

captured and occupied
their villages and towns.

A story of death and persecution.

The closer the nationalists
got to Barcelona,

the more these stories
terrified the population.

By January 24th, the nationalists
were less than 5 miles away.

In Barcelona, people
realised that all was lost,

in spite some talk of setting up
a line of resistance.

No one believed it because they really
just wanted the whole thing to be over.

You'd hear people say:
"It doesn't matter how it ends,

"only let it end soon."

I heard that quite often
in my neighbourhood.

"I doesn't matter how it ends,
only let it end soon."

The Catalans joined
the refugee torrent.

Many struggled up the high
mountain passes of the Pyrenees.

France meant safety.

They traveled by day and night.

Barcelona, on the
morning of January 26th.

From all sides the
nationalist forces moved in.

The tanks rumbled
down the Diagonal.

The infantry marched down
the slopes above the city.

A few communists tried
to build barricades.

They soon gave up.

The fascist soldiers were
already coming down the hillside.

It was a very sunny
day in Barcelona.

One of those very radiant days,
and the bayonets of their rifles

glinted menacingly in the sunlight.

That vision was terrifying, but
the truth is they didn't scare us.

But we knew we had to run.

We ran and ran
as fast as we could.

We left the cobblestones
by the side of the tramlines.

Of those who stayed,
many now welcomed

the nationalist columns
led by General Yagüe.

For them it was a joyous moment,
... the hour of rescue.

The end of a revolutionary nightmare.

Free to practice their religion openly
for the first time in nearly three years,

they praised God
and Franco for victory.

Some of the Catalan middle
class were much less certain.

Long tired of the war, they
must now have feared the future.

Often liberals, they had
no sympathy for Franco's regime

and knew very well, he had
none for Catalan autonomy.

And the prospect was bleak
for communists, anarchists

and socialists, still in Barcelona.

The revenge killings
were about to begin.

Near the French frontier
at the fortress of Figueras,

Negrín called a secret
meeting of the Cortes.

Held at night in the
subterranean vaults,

this was the last session of the
republican Cortes on Spanish soil.

One of the few foreigners present

was the British journalist,
Willie Forrest.

Negrín got up first to speak,

and started by reading
from a prepared text.

But as he proceeded
he threw his script aside,

and started walking
up and down,

and fire came into his voice.

Negrín announced
that the 13 points of

the governments program
were being cut to 3.

It was the last point,
which now mattered most.

Franco must give
a cast-iron guarantee

that after the war,
there would be no reprisals

by the victors
against the vanquished.

The victors were now sweeping
northwards towards the French border.

One week after Negrín left
Figueras, they took the town.

They were a mere
20 miles away from the frontier.

For the republicans, it was
no longer retreat ... but flight.

Negrín and his ministers left Spain.

After them poured the remnants
of the republican army in Catalonia,

packed together with
half a million refugees.

5,000 human beings
crossed the border every hour.

On the other side lay only the
misery, hunger and overcrowding

of French internment camps.

The nationalists reached the
last border post ... and closed it.

Catalonia had fallen.

For these people,
the war was over.

But Madrid and more than a
quarter of Spain was still republican.

Negrín was still prime minister.

He knew he must go
back to Spain to save

what could be saved
by war or compromise.

But Franco had no
intention of accepting

Negrín's latest peace initiative.

He wanted only
unconditional surrender.

March 1939.

Moroccan tribesmen, the Moors,
were among the nationalist troops

who had been besieging
Madrid for over two years.

The Moorish trenches had become
almost a North African village.

To the east they could
see the rooftops of Madrid.

In the city itself,
nationalist supporters

had for 2½ years been
trying to live unnoticed.

Enrique Miret Magdalena
had taken refuge

in the Paraguayan embassy.

During those two and a bit years
we always spoke in whispers

and kept the blinds drawn so nobody
would know how many people

were inside the one flat.
There were between 50 and 60 of us.

For the Madrid population,
republicans and secret nationalists alike,

hunger was now
the worst torment.

Even vegetable roots became
a precious form of food.

People stood all day in queues
ready to buy anything,

which arrived in
the denuded shops.

Hunger, and sheer
exhaustion of wartime life,

were sapping the will to fight on.

Negrín, the prime minister,
had flown back to Spain.

Surrounding himself by
communists, whom he promoted

to a series of vital
military commands.

he established himself
near Alicante.

In what was left of the republic,
there were still four armies

adding up to half a million men.

The army commander
in Madrid, Colonel Casado,

believed that Negrín's
reliance on the communists

was a major stumbling block
to winning peace concessions.

He had put out his own peace
feelers to the nationalists.

Now to back this he
launched, what was in effect,

a coup d'état in Madrid.

Negrín and his colleagues
were at dinner near Alicante

when they heard Casado
attacking them over the radio.

Willie Forrest was there.

There was a telephone in the dining room
and Negrín went over to it,

and asked to be
put through to Casado.

He had to hang up
for a minute and wait,

then the phone rang,
Negrín went over,

... it was Casado on the line.

"What's going on", was the
first words I heard Negrín say.

I couldn't hear, of course,
Casado's replies.

but from what Negrín said
afterwards, it was quite clear.

because what was being
said was: "You've rebelled!"

"Against whom, may I ask?

"Against me!

"Then consider yourself
relieved of your command".

And with that Negrín
slammed down the telephone.

Turning to him ministers,
he asked them to

follow him upstairs for
another cabinet meeting.

It was to be a crucial night
for prime minister Negrín.

A night that settled his fate,
and the fate of the republic.

Clearly Negrín's political
position was collapsing.

The communist leaders
decided not to organise

resistance to the Casado coup.

Whether this reflected Stalin's
current disinterest in Spain,

and whether this clinched
Negrín's decision to flee,

remain open questions.

At three in the morning,
Willie Forrest watched

as Negrín and his government
filed out of their last meeting.

Well that, as I said,
was the end.

We didn't need to be told of the
government's decision to quit.

We saw the ministerial
bags being packed.

We saw Señor ???,
the police chief,

going through his dossiers
and tearing up papers.

And we knew that Cisneros,
the airforce chief,

had gone off in
great haste to an airfield,

Monóvar, about 20 miles
from where we were,

to organise a couple of planes
for the government's escape.

As Negrín left Spain
for the last time,

chaotic shooting
broke out inside Madrid.

Casado's supporters
fought communist units

who did not know,
or couldn't believe, that their leaders

had decided not to
resist the Casado coup.

Once again, the republic
was tearing itself apart.

For two weeks, Casado attempted
to negotiate an honourable peace.

His efforts were to prove
as vain as Negrín's.

Franco broke off
contact with him.

Casado now had no choice.

He ordered the republican armies
to raise the white flag and surrender.

The nationalists in the end,
never had to fight to capture Madrid.

Unopposed, they walked in.

I woke up and I heard shouts, and
I thought somebody's gone mad.

Now we're going to be in real trouble,
just when the war is about to finish.

Then I came out and I heard shouts.
Viva España!, Viva España!

and I said: "What are you
shouting for, you've all gone crazy".

They replied: "No, no,
Madrid has been liberated.

"The war is over."

Then we all jumped from
the balcony into the street.

I took my brother with me
and we went out to see

what was happening
in the streets.

I reckon that even some
of those who'd taken part

in the events of
14th April 1931,

were now the ones
who climbed onto lorries.

I think they were more
or less the same people,

or at least, there were
just as many of them

and they were
equally enthusiastic.

As Franco's soldiers trudged
into the streets of Madrid,

Falange supporters
poured out of hiding.

Republicans, trying to escape
from nationalist vengeance,

headed for the port of Alicante
on the southeastern coast,

chosen as the
main evacuation point.

On March 28th, as Madrid fell,
this British ship left Alicante.

On board were
some 500 republicans,

... mostly leading figures.

Left behind were
about 20,000 refugees,

who were swarming
into the harbour area,

hoping desperately
for ships to rescue them.

For these three survivors,
Narciso Julian, Eduardo de Guzman

and his sister in law,
Encarnacion Bueno

what followed is
an indelible memory.

We were looking out
towards the horizon.

We could see a few lights.

Some people were saying they were ours,

that they were getting nearer.

This was the worst torture at the harbour.

The torment of hope, thinking
you were going to be saved,

when there was
no salvation possible.

I remember every single moment.

Each was more terrible
than the one before.

Every minute that passed
without the boats arriving

made me believe less and
less in boats ... in anything.

My son was saying:
"You'll see mum, we'll get away.

But when the hours passed,
and no boats came near,

I stopped believing in anything.

By March 30th,
Italian troops had occupied

the fortress
overlooking the harbour.

The republicans,
crowded along this quay,

... were at their mercy.

The last boats had gone.

Now there was no hope,
... only fear.

I was sitting there, my son
next to me, we were talking.

We knew already that
the boats were not coming.

Along came a man,
about 40, strong, good looking.

A man who looked in really good health,
... he came quite close to me.

I didn't realise what was
happening ... I heard a shot.

He had shot himself,
and fallen down right there.

I totally lost my calm then.
My son was saying:

"Don't be frightened mother,
don't be scared".

You'll see a lot more of this
here, but don't be frightened.

Of course I was scared stiff.
I don't know what I thought.

Perhaps that they would bring out
machine guns and finish us all off.

Nationalist troops moved into
Alicante to reinforce the Italians.

The helpless masses in the
harbour knew they would be

rounded up the following day.

For the anarchists
amongst them,

one question remained to be
settled in the last hours of liberty.

We spent the whole night
discussing what we should do

from a revolutionary viewpoint
without giving ourselves

any false illusions
about escaping death.

But, what was the best thing
for the cause we'd all defended.

Should we give ourselves up,
or kill ourselves?

This was the
last minute dilemma,

what we were
debating that last night.

These were the
two points of view.

Emile said, this was a
comrade called Mario Emile,

He said: "I'm not
sparing them any crimes.

"If they want me dead,
they'll have to kill me."

Nobody on the quayside
slept that night.

Through the darkness
of March 31st,

this macabre debate was
argued to its conclusion.

Many agreed with
Guzman's friend to stay alive

and let the enemy
take the ultimate guilt.

But others made suicide pacts.

Eduardo de Guzman
recalls the last two to die.

After that last discussion
when we were about to leave,

the took each other
by the hand, and saying:

"This is our last
protest against fascism",

they raised their pistols to each
others heads and shot each other.

As we were leaving
the port, somebody said:

"We'll soon be envying the dead".

And I thought: "No, we'd
better start envying them now".

Few today remember,
that Alicante port

was the place of the
republic's last agony.

Nearly three years after the
army insurrection, the war was over.

The guns fell silent.

The church bells began to ring.

Over the radio a
nationalist announcer

delivers Franco's
final war communique.

April 2nd 1939, the day
after the war's official end,

... was Palm Sunday.

In Madrid, Generalissimo Franco
went to lay a sword of victory

in the church of Santa Barbara.

It was the first of
many triumphal occasions

in which Franco and Spain
celebrated the nationalist victory.

What would Spain
be like under Franco?

The fighting was over,
but the so-called

national crusade
had a long way to run.

Spain was to be transformed,
but into an image of the past.

After the turmoil of the
republic, the Spain of history

was to be resurrected,
ruled once more by

the church, the oligarchy,
the great landowners.

There was to be a fatherland,
at once new, and ancient.

A nation united,
obedient, purged of evil.

Franco decreed, retroactively,

that all who had opposed the
nationalists would be answerable.

Even prewar political opponents
were not to be spared.

He saw the main threat
in the working class,

once triumphant, now prostrate.

Here the purge
must be most harsh.

It began at once, among
the new hoards of his captives.

Nobody suspected of
republican sympathies was safe.

Concentration camps all
over Spain were swamped

by hundreds of thousand
of prisoners.

The captives from the harbour
at Alicante were brought here,

to this barren place,
which was then

the concentration camp of Albatera.

It is said that Franco
personally ordered that

there should be no
photographs of the camp.

When it had served its purpose,
every trace of it was cleared away.

All that remains today is
an old hut used by the guards,

and a path once trodden
by 30,000 arriving prisoners.

But the camp can never be
cleared from the memories

of those who survived Albatera.

The repression began
right from the start.

We were never
considered human beings.

That's the way it
was under Franco.

We were always considered
as things, never as human beings.

Albatera was not just
an internment camp.

It was also a camp where people
awaited selection for execution.

Through the gate,
which used to stand here,

... the visitors arrived.

These were the moments
of terror, for these visitors

were members of the Falange,
who came to identify their enemies.

They were looking for people from
their towns, or anyone else of note.

Anyone who had been a volunteer,
fought in the republican army.

Or anyone who had been
mayor or any other official

in any republican town in Spain.

And they picked these people
out right there and then.

This one, this one, this one.

and without more ado
just ticked them of.

They took them away
to their respective villages.

Most of the time, these prisoners
never reached their destination.

What usually happened was that
we heard the shots from here,

and that was the end of it.

There were also
executions within the camp.

The prisoners were
forced to watch them.

I remember the first executions.

I'd been locked up
in the punishment area.

There were three lads they shot.

They lined us up at machine gun point, and
one of the lads, a commissar, said to everyone

"Keep calm comrades, don't make a move.
They'll use it as an excuse to kill us all.

And they shot him
right there in front of us.

Nobody knows
how many of the 30,000

who went into Albatera perished,

by execution,
or just callous neglect.

Most people know what the
Nazi extermination camps were like.

They've seen films of them.

I think the Albatera camp
was, in many ways,

like those extermination camps,

except it was less systematic.

Everything here was less organised.

In the concentration camps,
persecution was still haphazard,

but soon the policy of
systematic repression began.

The prison population
increased by over 200,000 people

There were token trials,
rapid sentences, executions.

The terror lasted at this pitch
for more than four years,

longer than the war itself.

Many like Narciso Julian
and Eduardo de Guzman

suffered for much longer.

Both were sentenced to death

Eduardo de Guzman
spent nine years in prison.

He and Narciso Julian,
like many others,

waited to be executed
for over a year never knowing

if the next day
was to be their last.

Narciso Julian was to
spend 25 years in prison.

This part of the
prison yard at ???

still holds special
memories for him.

In 1945 he met
his daughter there.

In 1965, twenty year later,

he met his granddaughter
in the same spot.

But for nationalist families,

the suppression of
all dissent meant unity.

Tomas Garicano Goñi,
later one of Franco's ministers,

found a solid logic in
Franco's persecutions.

The repression was aimed at
preventing any possible reaction

from any communist or socialist
still at liberty in Spain,

or living abroad in exile,
in case they returned to Spain

to turn the situation on its
heals and take power again.

As the corpse of
José Antonio Primo de Rivera

was carried from Alicante to Madrid,

republican supporters in villages
along the road were shot,

without even the hearing
the 15th century Inquisition

had given its victims.

Franco was hammering
Spain into a political monolith,

... without opposition.

The Falange which had stood
for a revolutionary fascism,

had already been integrated into
an ultra-conservative one-party state.

But the dead José Antonio,
charismatic leader of the Falange,

executed by the republicans,

was now appointed patron saint,
and martyr, of the new Spain.

Francisco Franco, El Caudillo,

could safely share the leadership
of Spain with a dead man,

who could not contradict
the myth imposed on him.

All other political
movements were forbidden.

Regional autonomy,
and diversity, were obliterated.

Such was Franco's
version of national unity,

and many, in the Spanish
middle class, greeted it with rapture.

There was an extraordinary
boom in processions.

Holy Week processions, and
processions for just about every saint.

They were packed with
people marching along.

There was a revival of all this sort of thing
that had disappeared under the republic.

These things seemed
important to us then.

They gave us the impression of
recovering something we had lost.

The religious values,
patriotic values, the values of order.

All these were restored.

There was an absence
of freedom, but logically,

those of us that
had well-ordered lives,

those of us who
were professionals,

and saw things from
the personal viewpoint only,

we felt very much
at ease ... and happy.

In this ruined Spain,
the first years of peace

were even harder,
in their way, than the war.

The country lost hundreds
of thousands of refugees

who were forced
to remain in exile.

And in Spain, to the physical
destruction were added

famine, mass unemployment,
impoverishment.

Many thousands
died of starvation,

thousands more were shot,

for there was no
magnanimity in Franco,

no gift of reconciliation.

And nationalists everywhere,
at every level, became infected

with their leader's
lust for revenge.

What happened in Mas de las Matas
happened throughout Spain.

The Moliner family had worked
this plot of land for many years.

Juan Moliner was a
young man in 1938.

He and his family
were socialists.

When the nationalists
swept into Aragon,

they had fled with other
refugees towards Valencia.

When the war finished, Franco said

we shouldn't be afraid
to return to our villages.

Of course, since we weren't
guilty of anything, we came back.

When we arrived here
they arrested us.

They wouldn't even
let us out of jail.

Moliner's father was
imprisoned by the local Falange,

who now controlled
Mas de las Matas.

Juan was never
to see his father again.

Forty years later, the memory
of his death still pains him.

Of course I remember.

Those were very
critical moments.

Crucial moments.

I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

And on top of it all, one
has to live with those people

knowing that they had killed him.

But you had to go on living
with them, without saying a word.

After every civil war,
hatred is the real survivor.

Stifled behind closed doors.

Hidden in neighbours who avert
their faces on the village street.

The poison trickles
down the years.

So it was in Spain where almost
every family had a hatred to nurse.

Yet, as time passed, locked minds
began timidly to open again.

As my children grew up,
they used to chide me

because I'd been
a Franco supporter.

"Mum, how on earth
could you support Franco?"

"I think that he saved us."
"How can you say that."

Then they began bringing me
books, and books, and more books.

and I started to realise
that it had been terrible.

That there had been as many
monstrosities on this side,

as there had been
on the other side.

Because I already knew
about the other side.

And I didn't know
what had happened here.

So, gradually you evolve,
and you realise that

there is neither good nor evil
as they used to tell you.

That you can think for yourself.

That something you do not like,
someone else may think is fine.

That you are in no
position to judge others.

That someone can think one way,
while you think another,

and he could be just as
good a person as you.

That is what my
children taught me.