Franco's Field Cannons
"In a matter of a few hours, Queipo de Llano has taken the center of Spain’s fourth largest city. That Sevilla is known for it’s “Red” predilection is so much the better, he thinks. Franco will be pleased. And that he has conquered Sevilla with only two commandeered majors and some mediocre captains he hasn’t yet spoken to, is an extra bonus.
Half an hour later, Queipo takes the radio station and makes his first of many incendiary and propagandistic broadcasts, “Sevillanos: To arms! Join me! The Fatherland is in danger and, in order to save it, some men of spirit -- some valiant generals -- have assumed the responsibility of placing themselves at the forefront of a movement of salvation which is triumphant everywhere.”
The radios are blasting from every bar and from the hotel. Queipo’s voice is unbelievable: boasting, ribald and brazen in his coup. Manuel is still standing amongst the fallen men in the middle of the street. He pulls some of the wounded into the shade of the Hotel as he looks everywhere for Ignacio. There are medics already helping the injured.
The wounded lie like crumpled heaps of clothing, and Manuel sees there is blood running along the cobbles at his feet. Someone’s head is opened, and the blood is pouring out. Manuel watches the rivulets forging streams between the cobbles and wonders how so much blood can come from one man. The voice is still echoing in the plaza, ricocheting against the stone buildings, the stone streets. Manuel’s head is pounding with each guttural syllable grating against his skull. Someone pulls Manuel back to the curb. Falling to his knees, he vomits his breakfast and bile into the gutter until there is nothing left to purge.
Across the plaza the radio rings out, “The Army of Africa is preparing to cross into Spain to take part in our God-sanctioned task of crushing your unworthy government.
Your abomination of a government has resolved to destroy traditional Spain in order to convert the country into a colony of Moscow, and it will be overthrown to keep the Fatherland pure ...” Queipo’s bawdy and boisterous voice gains bluster."
"And the now hoarse, bibulous voice drones on, “Sevillanos: the die is cast, it is useless for you Red scum to resist. Legionaries and Moroccan troops are en route for Sevilla and when they arrive, they will hunt down the troublemakers like wild animals. If you resist the rising, you will be shot like rabid dogs. ¡Viva España!”