BEGINNINGS : Where A Life Begins ------ I. GENESIS & RESURRECTION

Chapter Nine

                                                                      NINE

 As Alphonso and Yann rushed to escape from the scene of the shootings at the old metal border bridge near the Hendaye-Hondarribia border, what would lie ahead of them was beyond their imaginations. As was the possibility that one day, years in the future, the paths of some of the actors in this brief scenario at a far-flung outpost on the Spanish-French border might again cross and change the course of all their lives. 

The pair's escape route took them eastward along the rugged southern banks of the Bidasoa River. The river flowed slowly in the opposite direction to their flight. It spread around the barren Isla Santiagoaurra and the more fertile Isla Iru Kanale before broadening into the Bay of Txingudi and then following its course out into the vast Bay of Biscay. Luckily, the planned construction of the airport to the north of both the old metal bridge and railway line on the Spanish side of the smaller bay had been suspended several years beforehand and there was no activity and few buildings around the river. There was just dense undergrowth with occasional clearings and both father and son knew the terrain like the backs of their hands. 

They had quickly moved well clear of that desperate border post by the time the Guardia soldiers stationed there had even thought about giving chase. 

                                                                              § 

 That night, Alphonso sat in silence at the family dinner table after they had all finished eating. His mind returned to what would have happened if he and Yann had been captured that day. He was horrified at the danger he had put his son in. He thought again of the Geneva Conventions and what those intellectuals and leftists had said about it. What he had learned from their discussions had surprised him. He went through it all again in his mind. It seemed that the 'Geneva Convention' was in fact a series of international law agreements, but he didn't know if Spain had signed up to them or not. The agreements set out legal principles designed to protect wounded combatants as well as civilians in times of conflict. They also did things like establish the International Red Cross -  

"... how wonderful the Red Cross is!" he said half-aloud, startling his young son who was reading in silence beside him. 

"Yann..." He spoke softly, looking intently at his son. "You know I cursed a thing called the 'Geneva Convention', when we were out today". 

Alphonso did not want to say too much about what had happened earlier in the day; certainly not in front of his wife. He was of another generation; quite a bit older than his wife and spoke rather formally, especially to his children. 

"But it is important. And I'm told that the inspiration for the Geneva Convention came from the suffering of wounded soldiers on the battlefields in northern Italy; that was during the Battle of Solferino in June 1859." He paused. 

"The first Convention was agreed in 1864 and was to provide protection for sick and wounded soldiers on the battlefield and the next Convention of 1868 extended that protection to sailors wounded in battles at sea." Alphonso looked at his son. The boy did not reply but his father could that see he was listening. So he spoke again. 

"But it was not until six decades later, after the Great War when there were millions of casualties, that the League of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies were founded in Paris. That was in 1919. Wounded soldiers of course need assistance from doctors and nurses without them being subjected to military attack and it is the Red Cross and Red Crescent that were supposed to provide it." 

He went on. 

"The last Geneva Convention was in 1929." Alphonso had himself read in the newspapers about the third and most recent version of the Convention. "It declared that prisoners of war were not to be regarded as criminals, but should be treated humanely and released when the war is over. So they should be freed and able to go home to their own countries after the end of the war. But that hasn't happened here in Spain." 

Alphonso paused, looking down at the table. Indeed, the civil war in Spain had been no ordinary war where professional armies from different countries faced each other in battle. He spoke again. 

"It's crazy, when you think about it," he said. "Spain's present troubles are not even 'a war' in terms of the Geneva Conventions, but an internal, civil dispute, so these rules don't apply." 

He spoke just audibly with a cynical smile; more like a grimace. 

Yann just looked at him. 

"But what happened here is not so different to so many wars that have occurred in the past?" he said. 

"There were armies and there were battles. Yes, there was also guerrilla activity. And it was all fuelled by personal and class hatreds and flavoured by a heavy dose of religious fervour. It sounds like most wars to me," he said bitterly. 

Yann listened but said nothing. He was just a boy and his destiny was yet to unfold, but his involvement in the escape of Maria and his father's criticisms of the Geneva Conventions set the conditions for him to play his own small part in the unravelling of all these events. 

                                                                           § 

 The lives of Alphonso, Yann and the wounded and deceased Guardia soldiers were forever changed by the events on this day, as were those of little Thomas, Maria and her unborn daughter. But to the other soldiers, the shots that had been fired were little more than another banal and futile act of terrorism by the vanquished Republicans and no further thought was given to Maria and her son. 

The only exception was the officer with smouldering hatred in his deep dark eyes and an unusual, ornate dagger tucked into his belt. He had stood there, looking across the border, glaring at the distraught and crumpled object of his hatred, his soul too deeply scarred to forget what he perceived as yet another humiliation; a humiliation that demanded terrible vengeance.