11
Dear Diary,
It’s nine o”clock in the morning, and here I am, writing while on board a Popular Army truck, squeezed against my brother Vicent and other comrades of whom I know little more than their names, leaving Contreras behind on the Madrid Road. At home, my family will have already discovered my absence. I hope they will not hold a grudge against me. While the others doze in the van, I do nothing but think about what the future holds for me. I can”t spend the rest of my life locked up in an embroidery workshop. I want to see the world, be useful to my country, and do something worth remembering. I want someone to inscribe my name on a stone so that someday, my parents will be proud of me.
Yesterday, Vicent told our parents that he was going to join the People”s Army of the Republic. I was sad to think that he was leaving, but at the same time, I was very proud of him. He’s my twin brother, and I love him more than anything. The thought of being separated from him broke my heart.
“I”ll go with you,” I suggested.
“You”re crazy,” my mother said. “It”s enough that they”re taking my son away from me. I would die if you left, too. Besides, you”re a woman. What are you going to do on the frontline?”
“Mother, don”t be so old-fashioned! Haven”t you seen the posters in the street? They need women, too. I want to be where Vicentis. He’ll be lost without me.”
“But you”re just a child! You”re not going anywhere, period. End of the discussion,” my mother harrumphed, banging the table with the rolling pin, her weapon of choice.
I went to the bedroom, angry. Vicent was waiting there for me, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking crestfallen.
“Carmen,” he said, “Please listen to them. Let me go alone. Mother and Teresa need you here. The front is no place for a fine city girl like you.”
“What time are they coming to pick you up?” I asked with the most innocent face I could muster.
“I don”t know. But it won”t be long. I guess early in the morning.”
“You”d better go to bed. Sleep for as long as you can,” I said, kissing his forehead. “Don”t worry, my little brother, I”ll come out and see you off.”
When the soldiers knocked on the door at five o”clock in the morning, Mother went to open it. I was already prepared, hidden in the doorway. In my bed, a blanket bulged under the sheets to mimic my body.
Two armed young men in uniform asked for Vicent, who hadn”t slept a wink all night. I’d heard him tossing and turning in bed all night. In tears, Mother went to get him and found him already dressed, with his tie perfectly knotted and his little brown bag at the foot of the bed.
“Come back soon, my son,” she said, sobbing into a tea towel.
Behind her stood Teresa, in her nightgown and with reddened eyes.
“And Carmen? Where is she?” asked Vicent in surprise. He couldn”t believe I hadn”t gotten up to say goodbye.
“She”s sleeping,” Teresa told her, “and it”s better that way. You know how she is. She”ll throw a tantrum if they don”t let her go with you.”
Vicent nodded sadly, knowing that it would be easier if I discovered his absence after a couple of hours when he was already far away.
“See you soon, Mother. And you too, Teresa. Give Carmen a big kiss from me. Tell her that I love her very much,” said Vicent, and then he left with the republican soldiers, who were waiting for him.
He had not yet negotiated the last step of our building when I greeted him from my hiding place under the recently departed porter”s desk.
“Good morning,” I said, crawling out dressed in a white blouse and a pair of Vicent”s oversized pants. Mother only allows me to wear skirts, and I don’t have any trousers of my own. I had rolled up my sleeves, and they sagged a bit, but hopefully, they”d give me some in my size once we reached the frontline. When the soldiers saw me, they pointed their guns at me. For a moment, I was afraid, but my fears were unfounded.
“Don”t do anything to her, please,” said Vicent. “She”s my sister.”
“I”m going with you,” I announced with determination, looking at the armed men.
“You?” laughed one of the soldiers. I guess he thought I seemed too fragile to be a fighter. “Do you even know where we”re going, girl?”
“Of course! To the front!”
“How old are you?”
“Eighteen. Just like him. He”s my twin brother,” I told them proudly.
The soldiers looked at each other and shrugged.
“All right,” said the tallest one. “Welcome to the army, then, comrade.”
He held out his hand to help me into the van, but I refused. Chivalry has no place in female equality. Do?a Leonor often tells us so, and she’s absolutely right.
The metal gate resounded as it closed: the deceptive silence of the Valencian night smelled of jasmine and gunpowder. I thought of my mother and my sister and of how upset they would be when they lifted the sheets and found only a rolled-up blanket. But they’re not like me, dear diary, and Vicent needs me more than anyone. My life, as of today, has a meaning. And I have a feeling I”m in for a great adventure.