ABSTRACT
AS THE CAR WITH THE OTHER OFFICER WRITERS (Renn, Bodo Uhse, Kantorovich, Bates) had already left a few days before, I took the motorbus-train connection via Tembleque and Albacete. There is no sadder spectacle than a charabanc full of evacuated people. When you see the careworn, emaciated faces of the women, their miserable baggage, the little ones whining with fatigue and hunger, and the proud stoical silence of their older brothers, you are suddenly made to realize why so many prefer to remain in Madrid in spite of the bombardments and recoil from undertaking a journey into the unknown and without any certainty that the refuge they are seeking will not be bombarded too.
