such open ground. But for «the moment it seems to be all right. Th-e Spanish Brigade cannot be seen, it must be much further to the left.

Noon. The time is passing swiftly. We are in the middle of a fight. The Fascist machine guns are firing their explosive bullets on us, and they make a sharp «crackle as they explode around us. Some of the Battalion are Wounded. Most belong to the Company which entered the battle first. They are trying to take a small hill by assault. The Fascists have the advantage in numbers and in arms. Their machine gun fire is devastating our ranks. Nearly a whole Company has been wiped out. I learn that our machine guns are out of action.

The men take advantage of every possible shelter, olive trees, vines, furrows, streams, and the advance continues. But the sound of cannon

begins to mingle with that of the machine guns. A rain of steel is falling

along the whole of the front occupied by our Brigade. Our advance has stopped. The Fascist machine guns still have us within range and our own are out of action. We have rifles — the Fascists have cannons.

At this moment I am ashamed of being French. Brave men are dying there only because they lack arms. There are plenty of arms at the

frontier, bought by the Government long before the Fascist rebellion. Non-intervention! The Fascists don’t lack arms. The best sons of Eng- land and France are dying here killed by German, Italiazn and Portu-. gese shrapnel. Nwo»n~in~terven~tion,' ,

The Fascists are increasing the intensity of their fire. We are giving way. It is necessary to retire. Slowly, we move backwards. All are sweating, and the perspiratiorn is pouring down their faces, which are smeared with mud and sometimes with blood. The machine gunners are struggling along with their useless guns. Th-ey W-ant to leave nothing behind, but it is hard work in the powerful mid-dsay sun.

All are thirsty, but there is no water. The artillery fire follows us as we retreat. The shells fall in our midst. A number of them do not explode and we thank the German and Italian workers for this. But how bitter we all feel. a

Ever more frequently we hear the shells whistling through the air. The machine gunners can no longer see us and they l1ave stopped firing, but the shelling goes on... I ' ,,

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