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David's time. There are so many other
things lie has done and is doing for the
Veterans, for the refugees, for the prisoners
in Franco Spain, for our men on Ellis
Island and for Republican Spain ...that
were they to be listed one would think that
is was impossible for one man to do it all.
But then David is different.
Not often in his work with the Friends,
did David receive much more than thanks
...more often he made financial
contributions. In all the time he headed the
organization, he never asked for, nor
received a cent in payment
Shortly the Friends of the Abraham
Lincoln Battalion will cease to exist. David
will be without a job ...for a very short
time I'm sure. A person like David will
soon find another front where he cart carry
on the struggle for a free Spain and a free
World. The Veterans of the Abraham
Lincoln Battalion will never forget him or
cease to be grateful for what he has done
for us.
We who fought in Spain never say,
"Thanks" to a comrade in arms who has
done his job well. . .we say "salad." Salad
David McKelvey White and bien suerte!
we'll be seeing you at another Brunete.
Christmas in Franco's Prison
By Bob Steck
We meet in national convention just
before Christmas. We remember the
Christmases of the past three years in
Spain. We are glad to be here and
remember those Christmases. Not all of
our comrades are able to be here and
reminisce, for many are dead. Our memory
brings back the vision of the first
tombstone at Jarama - "Our Victory Is
Your Vengeance." Some clay we well
bring them Christmas cheer There are
others too, who cannot yet be here to look
back at
FRANK RYAN
Christmases spent in Spain, for they are
still in Spain. Yes, there is Christmas in
Spain, but not for the four hundred
international prisoners -Americans,
Germans, Austrians, Italians, Czechs,
Chinese, South Americans, Cubans, Turks,
Poles - who are confined in a dirty, lousy
loft of an old monastery at San Pedro de
Cardena near Burgos.
What does Christmas mean to them this
year?
In the early morning they will get up,
lower their trousers, shiver in the cold as
they kill the lice grown fat from sucking
human blood. Even with pants they shiver
and draw close one to the other, bands
between their legs, seeking a bit of
warmth. Hurriedly they will dress as
"Tanky" and "Sticky" will stroll by
swinging those threatening riding crops
with the loaded ends. They will rush to the
two toilets (piled high with defecation) to
wait in line - 400 - while dysentery tears at
their guts. Not all will wash - neither their
hands nor their plates - because there are
only two faucets for four hundred men. Or
perhaps this morning as so many
