“They were armed with flails such as are used to beat out the grain and they were a good flail’s length apart. All did not have flails, as enough flails could not be obtained. But most had flails obtained from the store of Don Guillermo Martin, who was a fascist and sold all sorts of agricultural implements. And those who did not have flails had heavy herdsman’s clubs, or ox-goads, and some had wooden pitchforks; those with wooden tines that are used to fork the chaff and straw into the air after the flailing. Some had sickles and reaping hooks but these Pablo placed at the far end where the lines reached the edge of the cliff.
“These lines were quiet and it was a clear day, as today is clear, and there were clouds high in the sky, as there are now, and the plaza was not yet dusty for there had been a heavy dew in the night, and the trees cast a shade over the men in the lines and you could hear the water running from the brass pipe in the mouth of the lion and falling into the bowl of the fountain where the women bring the water jars to fill them.
“Only near the Ayuntamiento, where the priest was complying with his duties with the fascists, was there any ribaldry, and that came from those worthless ones who, as I said, were already drunk and were crowded around the windows shouting obscenities and jokes in bad taste in through the iron bars of the windows. Most of’ the men in the lines were waiting quietly and I heard one say to another, ‘Will there be women?’
“And another said, ‘I hope to Christ, no.’
“Then one said, ‘Here is the woman of Pablo. Listen, Pilar. Will there be women?’
“I looked at him and he was a peasant dressed in his Sunday jacket and sweating heavily and I said, ‘No, Joaquín. There are no women. We are not killing the women. Why should we kill their women?’
“And he said, ‘Thanks be to Christ, there are no women and when does it start?’
“And I said, ‘As soon as the priest finishes.’
“‘And the priest?’
“‘I don’t know,’ I told him and I saw his face working and the sweat coming down on his forehead. ‘I have never killed a man,’ he said.
“‘Then you will learn,’ the peasant next to him said. ‘But I do not think one blow with this will kill a man,’ and he held his flail in both hands and looked at it with doubt.
“‘That is the beauty of it,’ another peasant said. ‘There must be many blows.’
“‘They have taken Valladolid. They have Avila,’ some one said. ‘I heard that before we came into town.’
“‘They will never take this town. This town is ours. We have struck ahead of them,’ I said. ‘Pablo is not one to wait for them to strike.’
“‘Pablo is able,’ another said. ‘But in this finishing off of the civiles he was egoistic. Don’t you think so, Pilar?’
“‘Yes,’ I said. ‘But now all are participating in this.’
“‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is well organized. But why do we not hear more news of the movement?’
“‘Pablo cut the telephone wires before the assault on the barracks. They are not yet repaired.’
“‘Ah,’ he said. ‘It is for this we hear nothing. I had my news from the roadmender’s station early this morning.’
“‘Why is this done thus, Pilar?’ he said to me.
“‘To save bullets,’ I said. ‘And that each man should have his share in the responsibility.’
“‘That it should start then. That it should start.’ And I looked at him and saw that he was crying.
“‘Why are you crying, Joaquín?’ I asked him. ‘This is not to cry about’
“‘I cannot help it, Pilar,’ he said. ‘I have never killed any one.’
“If you have not seen the day of revolution in a small town where all know all in the town and always have known all, you have seen nothing. And on this day most of the men in the double line across the plaza wore the clothes in which they worked in the fields, having come into town hurriedly, but some, not knowing how one should dress for the first day of a movement, wore their clothes for Sundays or holidays, and these, seeing that the others, including those who had attacked the barracks, wore their oldest clothes, were ashamed of being wrongly dressed. But they did not like to take off their jackets for fear of losing them, or that they might be stolen by the worthless ones, and so they stood, sweating in the sun and waiting for it to commence.