An old man with steel rimmed spectacles and very dusty clothes sat by the side of the road. There was a pontoon bridge across the river and carts, trucks, and men, women and children were crossing it. The mule-drawn carts staggered up the steep bank from the bridge with soldiers helping push against the spokes of the wheels. The trucks ground up and away heading out of it all and the peasants plodded along in the ankle deep dust. But the old man sat there without moving. He was too tired to go any farther.<\/p>\n
It was my business to cross the bridge, explore the bridgehead beyond and find out to what point the enemy had advanced. I did this and returned over the bridge. There were not so many carts now and very few people on foot, but the old man was still there.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere do you come from?\u201d I asked him.
\n\u201cFrom San Carlos,\u201d he said, and smiled.
\nThat was his native town and so it gave him pleasure to mention it and he smiled.
\n\u201cI was taking care of animals,\u201d he explained. \u201cOh,\u201d I said, not quite understanding.
\n\u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cI stayed, you see, taking care of animals. I was the last one to leave the town of San Carlos.\u201d
\nHe did not look like a shepherd nor a herdsman and I looked at his black dusty clothes and his gray dusty face and his steel rimmed spectacles and said, \u201cWhat animals were they?\u201d
\n\u201cVarious animals,\u201d he said, and shook his head. \u201cI had to leave them.\u201d
\nI was watching the bridge and the African looking country of the Ebro Delta and wondering how long now it would be before we would see the enemy, and listening all the while for the first noises that would signal that ever mysterious event called contact, and the old man still sat there.
\n\u201cWhat animals were they?\u201d I asked.
\n\u201cThere were three animals altogether,\u201d he explained. \u201cThere were two goats and a cat and then there were four pairs of pigeons.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you had to leave them?\u201d I asked.
\n\u201cYes. Because of the artillery. The captain told me to go because of the artillery.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you have no family?\u201d I asked, watching the far end of the bridge where a few last carts were hurrying down the slope of the bank.
\n\u201cNo,\u201d he said, \u201conly the animals I stated. The cat, of course, will be all right. A cat can look out for itself, but I cannot think what will become of the others.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat politics have you?\u201d I asked.
\n\u201cI am without politics,\u201d he said. \u201cI am seventy-six years old. I have come twelve kilometers now and I think now I can go no further.\u201d \u201cThis is not a good place to stop,\u201d I said. \u201cIf you can make it, there are trucks up the road where it forks for Tortosa.\u201d
\n\u201cI will wait a while,\u201d he said, \u201cand then I will go. Where do the trucks go?\u201d
\n\u201cTowards Barcelona,\u201d I told him.
\n\u201cI know no one in that direction,\u201d he said, \u201cbut thank you very much. Thank you again very much.\u201d
\nHe looked at me very blankly and tiredly, then said, having to share his worry with some one, \u201cThe cat will be all right, I am sure. There is no need to be unquiet about the cat. But the others. Now what do you think about the others?\u201d
\n\u201cWhy they\u2019ll probably come through it all right.\u201d \u201cYou think so?\u201d
\n\u201cWhy not,\u201d I said, watching the far bank where now there were no carts.
\n\u201cBut what will they do under the artillery when I was told to leave because of the artillery?\u201d
\n\u201cDid you leave the dove cage unlocked?\u201d I asked. \u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cThen they\u2019ll fly.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, certainly they\u2019ll fly. But the others. It\u2019s better not to think about the others,\u201d he said.
\n\u201cIf you are rested I would go,\u201d I urged. \u201cGet up and try to walk now.\u201d
\n\u201cThank you,\u201d he said and got to his feet, swayed from side to side and then sat down backwards in the dust.
\n\u201cI was taking care of animals,\u201d he said dully, but no longer to me. \u201cI was only taking care of animals.\u201d
\nThere was nothing to do about him. It was Easter Sunday and the Fascists were advancing toward the Ebro. It was a gray overcast day with a low ceiling so their planes were not up. That and the fact that cats know how to look after themselves was all the good luck that old man would ever have.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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