"Therefore, there were four of us left in the cell when the tragic days - November 7, 8 and 9 - came. We knew nothing about the advance of Franco's troops, who were supposed by the bulists in Getafe since the end of October, nor about the flight of the Government of Madrid. But a shiver of astonishment, terror, despair shook the souls and nerves of the poor prisoners when between two and three in the morning of those days the locks were unfolded with a funeral and from the back of the gallery the echoes of the names indicated for the sacrifice rose. It was the first blow to the back of the poor victim's neck. Immediately, a few hugs in the darkness of the cell, restrained tears, goodbye to heaven ..., and loaded with his blanket the unfortunate moved away, entrusting his belongings and his last feelings to his companions so that on freedom day, they would send them to his own, and his were the mother, the wife, the children ... In the bright light of the light bulbs in the background of the gallery, the Asian silhouettes of the militiamen like those of the demons of Dantesque hell were cut out.

"Silence turned to the cells, more difficult to sleep to the eyelids. Those days we were veneered, that is, closed without going down to the yard. The conversations, the reading of entertaining books, the tunes ("Alas, alas ... cieliño...") that other days came to us from the cell across the street, the visits of the friendly ordinances (prisoners too), the epistolary correspondence ... everything was invaded by that gust of hatred and blood unleashed against the prison. Oh! It was easier to load prisoner trucks, tying them to each other, and get rid of them in the fields of Torrejón de Ardoz, Barajas, Paracuellos del Jarama, than to face the victorious troops of Yagüe. How many were chosen for these criminal sacks? Difficult to say, because those selected from all the galleries and because they took care, in many cases, to replace them with new prisoners brought from the street.

"So when after three days, having the walls of the cell embedded in the brain, we went down again to the courtyards we saw older faces, cut short optimisms, more accentuated paleness, flares of helpless anger in the looks and words. Among the disappeared was a septuagenarian general, to whom through an elderly priest I had lent some scissors, which were a treasure for prison and who was carried with them in his purse. There was also a lack of a young doctor, Pacho Olavarría, a very nice Bilbao, whom I had well known since the presbytery of Manuel Silvela: he was called alone, almost mid-morning, and could still say goodbye to Fr. Díaz through the hole in the door.

"We probably escaped the three Redemptorists at that time. When we saw each other again, we were able to
Encourage us to perseverance and prepare our souls to receive the crown that could come when we least expected it. Precisely it must have been those days when Resignation was taken from the adjoining gallery and was on its way to being Machiñena.

"Some hope later waned, because it was said that some of those prisoner trucks had been taken by some of the nationalists and had even given the names of the liberated by radio.

 

But once again the hoaxes were balls. And in truth, it will turn into bitter disappointment, because hope that his or his were part of those expeditions released by Franco supported more than a few families in Madrid. Among the new prisoners in those days we stumbled upon Fr. Arnáiz [the priest of Madrid Eusebio Arnáiz Álvarez], who had visited us in Madrid shortly before the war. Until then, he had weathered the storm as an attaché and interpreter of an Embassy; but a complaint of an exacolyte of his church had been more effective than all his documentation in perfect order: from his lips we collected authentic news about the state of military operations."

(R. Tellería, Madrid in the red. Personal memories during the Civil War in Madrid, T. II, pp. 50-52)

WITNESS OF A MODEL PRISON "SAUGE"

 

In a cell of the 2nd gallery, José Machiñena, Superior Redemptorist of the Sanctuary of Perpetual Help in Madrid, was somewhat sad, sitting on the floor, wrote on a piece of paper...

Today, November 7, 1936, we went out to the sad and downs and downs courtyards. There has been no desire to play and in the circles the event of the day that occurred throughout the night was commented; some assure that the expeditionary political prisoners have left for Alcalá de Henares; others claim that they have reliable reports that they have been taken to Chinchón for fear that national troops will enter Madrid; a commander, my friend, has approached me and with all kinds of reservations has transmitted to me the version I had heard from a prison officer; namely: that the first car had gone to Alcalá, but that The others have been murdered on the outskirts of Madrid, and that part of them have been buried alive; adding to me: "the day that the whole truth is known it will cause horror and horror... Before taking them out of prison they have been stripped of everything they had in their pockets, money in vouchers, watches, cigarette cases etc... those who wore new shoes, or Americans of some price, have stripped them of them too; they have tied their hands, put them on buses, and so they have taken them to the place of execution.

 

 

Once there, and placed next to a ditch, which the militia had opened in advance, he ties them up.rum again three by three, or four by four, which, reaped by machine guns, were falling, dragging each other, into the ditch, some dead and others alive...." 

Of everything that happened tonight I have been an eyewitness; I was arrested and imprisoned in the 5th Gallery and "in mid-October and on the occasion of the raid made by the government of the retired military, whom it caught, after deceiving them villainously, we had to evict the 5th Gallery to make room for the retired from the army. They took us to various Galleries where we were distributed, being lucky enough to go to the 2nd, and to Fr. I resign. It was a very pleasant surprise and a great consolation for both of us to find ourselves after as long as we had been separated, without knowing anything about each other. There were three of us in the cell, the two Fathers and a Galician lawyer, named José Rumbao, a little boy, but a bundle of nerves. He behaved very well with us. Although it was rare the night when we did not hear any shock in the vicinity of the prison, and since it was not exactly a lullaby to sleep deeply, yet one had to get used to so many strange and hard things.... That in spite of all our lives it was going its course with relative tranquility. But, in the first decade of November, things began to take a tragic course.
On November 7, and around 4 in the morning, we heard the roar of the locks and the prison doors that were opening. We realized at the event what it was about: officially, a transfer of prisoners to Alcalá de Henares, to Chinchón, anywhere; in fact ... to Torrejón de Ardoz or somewhere else on the outskirts of Madrid to shoot them the noise of the doors that opened was getting closer and closer to the cell. Now they are going to come here, I was telling me, and who are they going to call but me! The three of us are here, a lawyer, Fr. I resign that appears on the file as a trade clerk, and I who am with all the aggravating factors of priest and religious. In this, the door is opened with a roar, and a militiaman appears before it with a long list of names in his hand. We hold our breath to listen... What name will come out? I have already swallowed the pill and I am in the process of getting up. .. in this you can hear the angry voice of the militiaman who says:

- 'Nicasio Manzanedo (Name)
that had been called Fr. I quit), get up, take your things and go out.

We were dismayed, unable to articulate a word. The Father joins up and tells me:

"Why do they call me, if I have not given my name or profession, if they have not taken a statement from me or know anything about me? ... What do I do?'

"I don't know what to say to him," I replied, "because if he resists, they end up with you. Maybe it's a transfer...'

He got up and renewed his religious vows, with an emotion that is easy to guess. I encouraged him to be warned, and if necessary, he would offer God his life for the Church, for the Congregation and for Spain. He got up very excited, telling me to the m arch:

"I offer my life for my confreres in the Province, for the Congregation and for our unfortunate Homeland.'"

(José Machiñena Aríztegui, Memories of Religious Persecution in Madrid in 1936-1937 entitled "Nine Months in the Power of the Reds", April-May 1937 in APRM. XIX, 1b., pp. 9-10.)

We haven't heard about him again.

- What do you know about the brothers Nicesio and Gregorio? - Tellería asks.
- Do you remember that they took refuge on Francisco de Rojas Street, on D. Lino Bru Vea Murguía? - Ibarrola Replied.
Yes, of course.
- Well, the goalkeeper demanded that D. Linen that would quickly expel them from their floor. D. Linen, a good priest and fond friend opposed it, but H. Gregory thought that the most prudent thing was to go somewhere else.
- What about D. Did Lino consent?
- He opposed it and told the doorman that they would only come out on his body; and that defense has cost him his life, since on August 15 he was taken and his body appeared on the 16th in the morgue.
- And then, what did the brothers do?
- Well, they went to a pension, but since they didn't have documentation, they didn't accept them. And they went to hide in the warehouse of the Perpetual Socorro publishing house on General Arrando Street. They were almost uneaten there. María Ruiz, the maiden of the Varoness of Rada, was bringing them food; and seeing that H. Nicesio was sick and was welcomed by the Quintanilla family, at 17 Covarrubias Street. It seems that the doorman of the house betrayed them and on August 14 they were taken to a Czech installed in the Valdeiglesias Palace, on Nicasio Gallego Street No. 19. From the inquiries we have made between the circles of relations of the members of that cheka, it seems that they were killed on the road to Valencia, in the vicinity of Vallecas in the early morning of August 16. That on the picket were a certain Juan José Casas, José Mere, Manuel González Perlado, José Ferigal who was the one who drove the car; and José Cuenca. That the latter told María Escolar, who also lives on Covarrubi Street so that "he got into the car, where, in addition to those mentioned, two more men were; that with two or three kilometers left to reach Vallecas, the driver Ferigal complained a breakdown; that they brought down the two detainees, who turned out to be priests; and that when they were on the ground they shot at them, killing them; that they fired: José Army archive. Exp. Summarísimos 5473 (file 4162, Symbol 4790, pp. 7 and 24) and 6225 (file 3111, Symbol 3711, p. 4) for the courage of the two elders; H. Gregory said to the militiamen: "You take us like the Jews to Christ" and H. Nicesio, before being shot, hugged the head of the platoon and sweetly reprimanded him: "Don't you feel sorry to kill an old man who can be your father and even your grandfather?" and then he asked them to let him pray a prayer and then they could shoot him.

"An unidentified man of about sixty-five years old, height 1,800, strong complexion, somewhat bald white hair, wearing a striped black suit, striped white shirt, blue suspenders, leather belt, white and long underpants, black stockings with the S mark. a cross and R black slippers and brown cap died at kilometer seven yesterday at five o'clock coming soon as a result of a fracture of the base of the skull according to an optional report and his body will have to be buried in the Cemetery of this town. A letter addressed to Gregorio Zugasti domiciled in Manuel Silvela fourteen Madrid" (Civil Registry of Madrid, Section 3a, Volume 57-31, folio 263 vto., No. 139).

"An unidentified man of about eighty years old, height 1,800, white hair, quite bald, wearing black plaid pants, a caki-colored dril jacket, white plaid shirt, long white underpants with the initials "N.T." and a cross, black stockings and black one-piece boots with elastic and black cap with drawings died at kilometer seven of the Road yesterday at five o'clock next as a result of a fracture of the base of the skull as a result of an optional report and his body will have to be buried in the Cemetery of this town. In addition, a rosary and a medal were found" (Civil Registry of Madrid, Section 3a, Volume 57-31, folio 264, No. 140).