Face to the Sun
“I was awakened by the rush of feet, the clamour of frightened military voices and the professional roaring of the sergeant major. A party of Heredistas, preceded by three tanks, were reported to be crossing the river. I cleared off towards thick cover with Pepe, Donna and Teresa who had no time to dress again as a man but still proudly carried the Punchao. The horse was abandoned to our friends.
As we stumbled away from the village and the merciless chatter of machine-guns we came across a cleft covered by undergrowth and decided that it would have to do. Teresa was physically and emotionally exhausted but still carried the Punchao round her neck and would not give it up. Disappointment, the death of her new comrades and lack of sleep had all persuaded her that she was not a commander but a mere mascot.
‘Where can I go to escape?’ she asked hopelessly.
‘Straight to Hector.’ ‘He cannot protect me.’ ‘He will if anyone can.
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