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eneral Golz。〃
〃Take them away；〃 Marty said； now kindly； to the guard。 He was sorry for them as human beings if it should be necessary to liquidate them。 But it was the tragedy of Golz that oppressed him。 That it should be Golz； he thought。 He would take the fascist communication at once to Varloff。 No； better he would take it to Golz himself and watch him as he received it。 That was what he would do。 How could he be sure of Varloff if Golz was one of them？ No。 This was a thing to be very careful about。
Andr閟 turned to Gomez； 〃You mean he is not going to send the dispatch？〃 he asked； unbelieving。
〃Don't you see？〃 Gomez said。
〃_Me cago en su puta madre！_〃 Andr閟 said。 〃_Est帷oco_。〃
〃Yes；〃 Gomez said。 〃He is crazy。 You are crazy！ Hear！ Crazy！〃 he shouted at Marty who was back now bending over the map with his red…and…blue pencil。 〃Hear me； you crazy murderer？〃
〃Take them away；〃 Marty said to the guard。 〃Their minds are unhinged by their great guilt。〃
There was a phrase the corporal recognized。 He had heard that before。
〃You crazy murderer！〃 Gomez shouted。
〃_Hijo de la gran puta_；〃 Andr閟 said to him。 〃_Loco_。〃
The stupidity of this man angered him。 If he was a crazy let him be removed as a crazy。 Let the dispatch be taken from his pocket。 God damn this crazy to hell。 His heavy Spanish anger was rising out of his usual calm and good temper。 In a little while it would blind him。
Marty； looking at his map； shook his head sadly as the guards took Gomez and Andr閟 out。 The guards had enjoyed hearing him cursed but on the whole they had been disappointed in the performance。 They had seen much better ones。 Andr椤arty did not mind the men cursing him。 So many men had cursed him at the end。 He was always genuinely sorry for them as human beings。 He always told himself that and it was one of the last true ideas that was left to him that had ever been his own。
He sat there； his moustache and his eyes focused on the map； on the map that he never truly understood； on the brown tracing of the contours that were traced fine and concentric as a spider's web。 He could see the heights and the valleys from the contours but he never really understood why it should be this height and why this valley was the one。 But at the General Staff where； because of the system of Political Commissars； he could intervene as the political head of the Brigades； he would put his finger on such and such a numbered； brown…thin…lined encircled spot among the greens of woods cut by the lines of roads that parallel the never casual winding of a river and say； 〃There。 That is the point of weakness。〃
Gall and Copic； who were men of politics and of ambition； would agree and later； men who never saw the map； but heard the number of the hill before they left their starting place and had the earth of diggings on it pointed out； would climb its side to find their death along its slope or； being halted by machine guns placed in olive groves would never get up it at all。 Or on other fronts they might scale it easily and be no better off than they had been before。 But when Marty put his finger on the map in Golz's staff the scarheaded； white…faced General's jaw muscles would tighten and he would think； 〃I should shoot you； Andr椤arty； before I let you put that gray rotten finger on a contour map of mine。 Damn you to hell for all the men you've killed by interfering in matters you know nothing of。 Damn the day they named tractor factories and villages and co…operatives for you so that you are a symbol that I cannot touch。 Go and suspect and exhort and intervene and denounce and butcher some other place and leave my staff alone。〃
But instead of saying that Golz would only lean back away from the leaning bulk； the pushing finger； the watery gray eyes； the graywhite moustache and the bad breath and say； 〃Yes； Comrade Marty。 I see your point。 It is not well taken； however； and I do not agree。 You can try to go over my head if you like。 Yes。 You can make it a Party matter as you say。 But I do not agree。〃
So now Andr椤arty sat working over his map at the bare table with the raw light on the unshaded electric light bulb over his head； the overwide beret pulled forward to shade his eyes； referring to the mimeographed copy of the orders for the attack and slowly and laboriously working them out on the map as a young officer might work a problem at a staff college。 He was engaged in war。 In his mind he was commanding troops； he had the right to interfere and this he believed to constitute command。 So he sat there with Robert Jordan's dispatch to Golz in his pocket and Gomez and Andr閟 waited in the guard room and Robert Jordan lay in the woods above the bridge。
It is doubtful if the outcome of Andr閟's mission would have been any different if he and Gomez had been allowed to proceed without Andr椤arty's hindrance。 There was no one at the front with sufficient authority to cancel the attack。 The machinery had been in motion much too long for it to be stopped suddenly now。 There is a great inertia about all military operations of any size。 But once this inertia has been overcome and movement is under way they are almost as hard to arrest as to initiate。
But on this night the old man； his beret pulled forward； was still sitting at the table with his map when the door opened and Karkov the Russian journalist came in with two other Russians in civilian clothes； leather coats and caps。 The corporal of the guard closed the door reluctantly behind them。 Karkov had been the first responsible man he had been able to communicate with。
〃Tovarich Marty；〃 said Karkov in his politely disdainful lisping voice and smiled； showing his bad teeth。
Marty stood up。 He did not like Karkov； but Karkov； coming from _Pravda_ and in direct communication with Stalin； was at this moment one of the three most important men in Spain。
〃Tovarich Karkov；〃 he said。
〃You are preparing the attack？〃 Karkov said insolently； nodding toward the map。
〃I am studying it；〃 Marty answered。
〃Are you attacking？ Or is it Golz？〃 Karkov asked smoothly。
〃I am only a commissar； as you know；〃 Marty told him。
〃No；〃 Karkov said。 〃You are modest。 You are really a general。 You have your map and your field glasses。 But were you not an admiral once； Comrade Marty？〃
〃I was a gunner's mate；〃 said Marty。 It was a lie。 He had really been a chief yeoman at the time of the mutiny。 But he thought now； always； that he had been a gunner's mate。
〃Ah。 I thought you were a first…class yeoman；〃 Karkov said。 〃I always get my facts wrong。 It is the mark of the journalist。〃
The other Russians had taken no part in the conversation。 They were both looking over Marty's shoulder at the map and occasionally making a remark to each other in their own language。 Marty and Karkov spoke French after the first greeting。
〃It is better not to get facts wrong in _Pravda_；〃 Marty said。 He said it brusquely to build himself up again。 Karkov always punctured him。 The French word is _d間onfler_ and Marty was worried and made wary by him。 It was hard； when Karkov spoke； to remember with what importance he； Andr椤arty； came from the Central Committee of the French Communist Party。 It was hard to remember； too； that he was unt