provoke violence. That way they can declare martial law and bring in the army.’
Pilar shrugged. ‘We’ve been asked to walk in front of the workers with our sign so the guards and police won’t shoot.’
I looked around the crowd and wondered where my father was right now. Things were beginning to sound dangerous.
The women and workers started to organise themselves into a formation, but before they had a chance to finish, a tramappeared around the corner. People picked up stones to throw at it. A side window shattered. The security guard on board, a young man not much older than Anastasio, aimed his gun at the workers, who were ripping up the track ahead of the tram. He fired. Luckily for them, he was a poor shot. But his action enraged the crowd, which included onlookers and their children. Before we knew what was happening, Ramón and I were caught in a crush of people pressing towards the tram, which had come to a stop before the ruined track. The driver, guard and passengers alighted in a panic as the crowd threw its weight against the side of the vehicle, heaving against it until it toppled on its side. The workers and women cheered. A young man ran out of a nearby building with a lit torch in his hand. He threw it into the tram and the wooden seats quickly caught fire, eliciting more whoops and cheers from the onlookers.
Later in the day, Teresa took me and Ramón to the Casa del Pueblo, which was abuzz with activity.
‘What’s the latest?’ Teresa asked Núria, who was handing out food packages.
‘A short while ago some workers attacked a tram, with guns they had stolen from a police station. They forced the driver and passengers to get off, then released the brakes and sent the tram careening down the street. The Civil Guard arrived and fired on the workers, who opened fire in return. Now, two tram drivers and three of our own are dead. Many others were wounded. A little girl was killed in the crossfire.’
The news about the child who had been killed upset Teresa. ‘That’s it for the day,’ she said, urging Ramón and me back out onto the street. ‘We are heading home. I promised your father I’d look after you, and that I will.’
We stayed inside Teresa’s stifling apartment that afternoon, while women from Damas Rojas came and went with messages regarding the progress of the day. Teresa jumped from her chairand raised both her fists in the air when Carme arrived with the news that the trams had been brought to a standstill.
‘I hope that arrogant de Foronda is satisfied now,’ she said. ‘What did he achieve? Burned-out trams and ripped-up tracks!’
A young boy brought us a note from Papá to let us know that he was unharmed. Teresa, we’ve been told that workers in Madrid are impressed by how quickly we’ve crippled the city’s industry and commerce, and that they are now planning to strike themselves , he wrote.
His message brought light to Teresa’s eyes. ‘If the whole country unites against the war, they will have to stop it,’ she said. ‘If we act as one, we can change things.’
Although there had been a bloody exchange of fire between police and protesters outside the army headquarters on passeig de Colom the previous evening, Tuesday morning started quietly. Women hung out the washing and children played in the streets. There was no wheeled traffic and no newspapers. There weren’t even communiqués posted on public buildings by the Captain General ordering workers to report to their factories and places of employment.
Teresa opened her flower stall at the markets until nine o’clock, joking with the other vendors that the Montella servants had wisely not shown their faces. Laieta brought the news that Governor Ossorio had resigned.
‘What?’ exclaimed Teresa, keeling over with laughter. ‘Is he that great a coward? What governor leaves his post when his city is in the midst of a battle? Who have they got to replace him?’
‘General Santiago has
Pilar shrugged. ‘We’ve been asked to walk in front of the workers with our sign so the guards and police won’t shoot.’
I looked around the crowd and wondered where my father was right now. Things were beginning to sound dangerous.
The women and workers started to organise themselves into a formation, but before they had a chance to finish, a tramappeared around the corner. People picked up stones to throw at it. A side window shattered. The security guard on board, a young man not much older than Anastasio, aimed his gun at the workers, who were ripping up the track ahead of the tram. He fired. Luckily for them, he was a poor shot. But his action enraged the crowd, which included onlookers and their children. Before we knew what was happening, Ramón and I were caught in a crush of people pressing towards the tram, which had come to a stop before the ruined track. The driver, guard and passengers alighted in a panic as the crowd threw its weight against the side of the vehicle, heaving against it until it toppled on its side. The workers and women cheered. A young man ran out of a nearby building with a lit torch in his hand. He threw it into the tram and the wooden seats quickly caught fire, eliciting more whoops and cheers from the onlookers.
Later in the day, Teresa took me and Ramón to the Casa del Pueblo, which was abuzz with activity.
‘What’s the latest?’ Teresa asked Núria, who was handing out food packages.
‘A short while ago some workers attacked a tram, with guns they had stolen from a police station. They forced the driver and passengers to get off, then released the brakes and sent the tram careening down the street. The Civil Guard arrived and fired on the workers, who opened fire in return. Now, two tram drivers and three of our own are dead. Many others were wounded. A little girl was killed in the crossfire.’
The news about the child who had been killed upset Teresa. ‘That’s it for the day,’ she said, urging Ramón and me back out onto the street. ‘We are heading home. I promised your father I’d look after you, and that I will.’
We stayed inside Teresa’s stifling apartment that afternoon, while women from Damas Rojas came and went with messages regarding the progress of the day. Teresa jumped from her chairand raised both her fists in the air when Carme arrived with the news that the trams had been brought to a standstill.
‘I hope that arrogant de Foronda is satisfied now,’ she said. ‘What did he achieve? Burned-out trams and ripped-up tracks!’
A young boy brought us a note from Papá to let us know that he was unharmed. Teresa, we’ve been told that workers in Madrid are impressed by how quickly we’ve crippled the city’s industry and commerce, and that they are now planning to strike themselves , he wrote.
His message brought light to Teresa’s eyes. ‘If the whole country unites against the war, they will have to stop it,’ she said. ‘If we act as one, we can change things.’
Although there had been a bloody exchange of fire between police and protesters outside the army headquarters on passeig de Colom the previous evening, Tuesday morning started quietly. Women hung out the washing and children played in the streets. There was no wheeled traffic and no newspapers. There weren’t even communiqués posted on public buildings by the Captain General ordering workers to report to their factories and places of employment.
Teresa opened her flower stall at the markets until nine o’clock, joking with the other vendors that the Montella servants had wisely not shown their faces. Laieta brought the news that Governor Ossorio had resigned.
‘What?’ exclaimed Teresa, keeling over with laughter. ‘Is he that great a coward? What governor leaves his post when his city is in the midst of a battle? Who have they got to replace him?’
‘General Santiago has
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