The tiny group we have just watched crawling up that ridge was the first English Company of the International Brigade receiving its baptism of fire. Facing them is a regular unit of Mussolini's Army recently landed in Spain. The men of the International Brigade have little or no uniform. The weapons they carry come from almost every country in Europe—some have no weapons.

Among those toiling men—it was the third time in 24 hours that they had attacked only to be pinned down by a more numerous and better equipped enemy—was a young student, earnest-looking with a lolloping gait which shifted the awkward French helmet from side to side of his black curly hair as he ran, crouched and ran again.

John Cornford had only the day before celebrated his 21st birthday. The last time I saw him was in the early dawn when we were each trying to get our men into position and getting ammunition humped in readiness for the attack. In the course of the same action I was myself wounded and only when I arrived at the base hospital did I discover that John had been killed. With him too was killed Ralph Fox our Brigade Commissar.

Intellectuals in Action

At a time when so much is heard about "moral and intellectual values," when "The Challenge of Our Time" is being analysed and discussed by so many with sharp axes to grind, the example of intellectuals like Fox and Cornford deserves to be recalled now on the tenth anniversary of their death in action against fascism.

"It is hard for the intellectual today." wrote Ralph Fox in his book Lenin—A Biography, "to accept that literature can be a matter of party, of battle . . . that he should fight, tooth and nail for his heritage occurs to him rarely. Yet the names which humanity has hitherto revered beyond all others are the names of men who have fought tooth and nail, of men whose work breathed the spirit of party."

Cornford too was one of those whose work breathed the spirit of party. Recalling the last discussion class which Cornford attended at Cambridge, Professor Ernest Barker wrote: "His belief in Communism was no youthful effervescence; it was a still water which ran deep. He spoke slowly and deliberately and there was sound knowledge as well as conviction behind what he had to say. He was one of those who are willing to stake heart's blood upon their convictions."

As a student John Cornford's career at Trinity College, Cambridge, was one of exceptional brilliance. He took first-class honours in Pt. I of the Historial Tripos and a starred First in Pt. II. On graduating he was awarded the Earl of Derby Research Scholarship. He had already begun his research work when the Franco rebellion began. He resigned his scholarship to join the Spanish People's Army as a volunteer.

"The Socialist movement in the Universities, not only in Cambridge but throughout the whole of England, owes more to him than to any other individual." wrote the Cambridge Review after his death. Those of us who were in the student movement and the University Labour Federation at the time know how true this was. It was his passionate devotion to the cause of the working people and to their unity in the fight against fascism that took him to Spain.

Ten Years of Struggle

Ten years have passed since Cornford died on that green hill in Cordoba, ten years in which everything for which he fought and gave his life had to be fought for again and at the cost of the lives of millions of young men and women because of the purblindness of some and the criminal folly of others.

Let us look at that green hill in Cordoba . . . ten years after.

"Not far from the ancient Moorish Mosque of Cordoba in the maze of poor, mean little streets that I have visited, men, women and children are dying of hunger or from diseases resulting from malnutrition. All the usual revolting signs of famine are there—children with hideously swollen stomachs, fragile limbs and wizened emaciated faces, women like human scarecrows with enormous eyes who are unable to move as their joints are swollen, and men so pitifully thin and feeble that to walk a few steps makes them breathless."

Thus a recent report by a Daily Telegraph correspondent in Spain. The food situation in Franco Spain is among the world's worse, the country-being at the mercy of the black marketers who run the fascist Falangist Party for their own benefit. The official daily ration of a Spanish worker is 5 ozs. of bread. 1 oz. of chocolate and three-fifths of an ounce of oil. From time to time there may be potatoes and dried beans. This would make a total of 642 calories a day. As the essential minimum for a worker is 2,750 calories a day, Franco is slowly but surely killing thousands of the Spanish people.

The only way that something more than this starvation diet can be obtained is by recourse to the black market. And while this is no doubt a phenomenon in most European countries since the war, there has been no increase in wages to off-set the astronomical prices on the black market. It is estimated that real wages are only 25 per cent, of the 1936 wages.

Fascism is Destroying Spain

The effect of Franco rule can be seen in the tuberculosis figures which have increased by 700 per cent. since 1936. Official and unofficial prostitution has increased by about 2,000 per cent. Crime has increased 1,800 per cent. These last figures, which do not take into account the increase in the number of beggars and black-marketeers, are in themselves sufficient indication of the degradation into which Spain has been plunged by Franco and the Falange.

"Round Cordoba," writes the Daily Telegraph man, "for 80 or 100 square miles there is nothing but hundreds of millions of olive trees. Yet olive oil, mainstay of Spanish life after bread, is unobtainable except at black market prices—usually about 27/-a pint. In a land of plenty the ordinary Spanish people are on the verge of starvation. In some areas, in Andalusia for instance, starvation point has already been reached and many are dying the slow death of malnutrition."

Finally comes this last reflection on what Franco has done to Spain—"From Madrid to Cordoba, a distance of about 300 miles, I saw only one tractor. Most of the ploughing is done by mule teams or oxen."

And the seething discontent of the people at this state of affairs, is kepi down by a brutal reign of police terror, the full meaning of which only emerges from time to time when the heroic stand of a Cristino Garcia, a Santiago Alvarez, a Sebastian Zapirain or a Maria Teresa Toral brings to the notice of the outside world the real horror of the regime which Mr. Bevin "detests."

From your green hill in Cordoba you. John Cornford, can see what you lougl it to prevent. You can see those lovable Spanish children that you so often dangled on your knee while they laughed in childish glee at the strange Spanish you spoke, you can see them pining away listlessly, while the lithe and proud Spanish lads bite on the iron as the hated Civil Guard struts by.

There was a thing in 1936 called "non-intervention" and those who struggled up that green hill knew only too well what it meant. It meant tying the arms of the Spanish Republic while fascist and nazi troops and arms, planes and tanks poured in for Franco. We heard with amazement that that policy was supported by the Labour Party, although later—too late—it was reversed.

Today you must be hearing a new word—"detestation." You detested fascism, John, and you showed it by your actions. Official detestation and diplomatic tub-thumping at Franco may sound very well and serve as a convenient soporific for uneasy "Socialist" consciences. But with goods and machinery worth millions and marked "British Made" coming in with the blessing of Sir Stafford Cripps, Franco can assess the "detestation" at its true worth.

And from Chris Mayhew, now Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs and contemporary of John Cornford in the student Labour movement, we expect more than official detestation. We expect that the Government should now adopt the policy of the World Federation of Trade Unions and our own TUC by breaking off all trade and diplomatic relations with the only remaining fascist dictator.