Books

The journalist on Hill 481

Jimmy Jump’s beautifully written book portrays dozens of his comrades in the International Brigades and tells the terrible story of deaths and defeat. In addition, he tackles controversial questions with an honesty unusual in Civil War memoirs

Jimmy Jump, a late re­cruit to the In­ter­na­tional Brigades, set out from Lon­don in No­vem­ber 1937. This meant that the ac­tion he saw, after ma­chine-gun train­ing in Al­bacete, was in Cat­alo­nia – prin­ci­pally, the Bat­tle of the Ebro that was fought from June to No­vem­ber 1938. He was evac­u­ated with jaun­dice in Sep­tem­ber and spent nearly three months in hos­pi­tal in Santa Coloma de Farn­ers.

Un­like many con­ven­tional Civil War mem­oirists who fol­low every twist in the Com­mu­nist Party line, Jump wrote what he saw, in­clud­ing neg­a­tive as­pects of the Brigades. This was as­sisted by his being a jour­nal­ist and not pre­vi­ously being a party mem­ber – though he joined dur­ing his stay in Spain.

There is a de­bate at the heart of this book, which ex­plains why it was not pub­lished in the 1960s when Jump wrote much of it, nor in the 1980s when he re­vised and ex­tended it. Only now has his son brought the man­u­script to light. In his pref­ace Paul Pre­ston spec­u­lates that Jump was prob­a­bly aware that his open­ness in dis­cussing three taboo sub­jects, i.e. ex­e­cu­tions of vol­un­teers, false ac­cu­sa­tions of “Trot­sky­ism”, and ho­mo­sex­u­al­ity, would have caused hurt to his com­rades in the British In­ter­na­tional Brigade As­so­ci­a­tion (IBA). This is surely true, as Stal­in­ist or­tho­doxy was the order of the day in the IBA. Non-pub­li­ca­tion avoided this hurt – and the os­tracism by val­ued com­rades that his com­ments would have caused.

Jokes against Au­thor­ity

On the way to a counter-at­tack at Bal­a­guer in May 1938, the 15th Brigade is as­sem­bled in a field at Ter­rassa. As Jimmy Jump, un­like most vol­un­teers, spoke good Span­ish, he was often as­signed to trans­late. He and a se­nior Span­ish of­fi­cer stand on a low stone wall and he trans­lates a chill­ing speech. “Two Trot­sky­ist de­sert­ers” from the Brigades have been shot… “found guilty of de­sert­ing in the face of the enemy and of spread­ing de­featism.” That night every­one in camp is strug­gling to un­der­stand the ex­e­cu­tions. Jump wrote:

I won­dered how many, in their hearts, felt as I did. De­spite all that we had been told of de­featism, Trot­sky­ism and fifth-colum­nists, I felt that these two men had re­ally been ex­e­cuted merely be­cause they were afraid and I won­dered how afraid I would be when under fierce at­tack. (p.103)

The book reaches its nar­ra­tive cli­max at the Bat­tle of the Ebro, when the Brigade is pinned by enemy avi­a­tion to the side of the bare Hill 481. The sun tor­tures the sol­diers while from the hell of no man’s land the dying’s “pleas for help are brought to us on the warm air” (p.129).

Jump en­twines an­other cli­max with this bat­tle­field hor­ror. While his com­rades are dying around him in the bat­tle for the hill, he hears that his com­rade Paddy O’Sul­li­van had shot an 18-year-old Span­ish de­serter. Jump re­alises he could never have done this. He thinks that he is “only in­tel­lec­tu­ally an anti-fas­cist”, while the men around him “who had suf­fered poverty and un­em­ploy­ment” un­der­stood that fas­cism was the ex­ten­sion of the cap­i­tal­ism that op­pressed them and were pre­pared to do any­thing at all to halt it. I am not con­vinced by Jump’s ar­gu­ment that in­tel­lec­tu­als are soft and that only real work­ers are suf­fi­ciently ruth­less, but the point is sin­cerely felt and strongly ar­gued.

Worse was to fol­low, when his friend Mau­rice Ryan who “had an ir­re­press­ible sense of hu­mour and revered no one” was shot as a “Trot­sky­ist – a label so eas­ily fas­tened on any­one who de­vi­ated from the ’cor­rect’ po­lit­i­cal line” (p.133). Ryan’s only crime was that he was a rough guy who liked to crack jokes against au­thor­ity, in­clud­ing the Com­mu­nist Party and the IRA. Jimmy Jump re­marks that Ryan was “a brave sol­dier and a fine ma­chine-gun­ner”, but fa­tally he said what he thought. You might think these were qual­i­ties to be nur­tured and ad­mired in an anti-fas­cist: free de­bate and ha­tred for au­thor­ity and fas­cists. Clearly not the case when opin­ions and jokes con­tra­dicted the party line.

Di­rect Poems

Other themes usu­ally ab­sent in Civil War mem­oirs are tack­led by Jump. He crit­i­cises the pu­ri­tan­i­cal at­ti­tude of the Brigades’ po­lit­i­cal com­mis­sars to ho­mo­sex­u­al­ity; and com­ments how sol­diers were “gen­er­ally bored to tears” (p.116) by the lengthy po­lit­i­cal speeches of the many vis­it­ing dig­ni­taries. They liked Com­mu­nist Party Gen­eral Sec­re­tary Harry Pol­litt, though, who was clever enough to make no rous­ing speech, but told them the foot­ball and cricket re­sults.

Twenty of Jimmy Jump’s short, thought­ful poems are in­ter­ca­lated through the text. They deal with the ba­sics of life in the war, like this on the fear be­fore bat­tle:

All my be­long­ings have gone in a lorry

To the safety of the rear

And I am alone

Wear­ing my tat­tered uni­form and my fear. (p.119)

Jimmy Jump need not have feared his fear, for he was com­mended for courage under fire. His poems are di­rect, not pedan­tic or pompous. They are lyri­cal in the de­tail, for ex­am­ple: a loaf of bread, a tin of corned-beef, a change of socks, the “hos­pi­tals with­out eggs/ where nurses wash sheets with­out soap” (p.155).

All those who vol­un­teered for the In­ter­na­tional Brigades in the Span­ish Civil War of 1936-39 de­serve max­i­mum re­spect. They put their lives on the line to fight fas­cism. Jimmy Jump’s out­stand­ing book de­scribes bril­liantly the per­son­al­i­ties of his com­rades and the coun­try they fought in. He also raises two key de­bates, about fear and de­ser­tion and about the Stal­in­ist witch-hunt against “Trot­sky­ism”, which make the book par­tic­u­larly pow­er­ful.

book re­view

The Fighter Fell in Love. A Spanish Civil War Memoir Author: James R Jump Foreword: Paul Preston Preface: Jack Jones Publisher: The Clapton Press (2021) “What shines through this self-deprecating, painfully honest and brutally realistic memoir is a writer with a poet’s eye for detail, a gentle sense of humour and, above all, the intelligence of a thoroughly decent man.” Paul Preston

Teacher, fighter, poet

James R. Jump is exceptional among volunteers in that he spoke Spanish before going to Spain and his time in the Brigades led to a profound lifelong love of Spain. The Civil War was not just a sentimental memory.

Born in Wallasey in 1916, he learnt Spanish at school. He then found a job as a journalist on the Worthing Herald. He helped out with Basque refugee children in Worthing and Lancing, where he met Cayetana Lozano, who had accompanied the children in their exile. Engaged before he left for Spain, they married in 1940.

In a fine afterword his son (also James Jump) summarises his father’s life after the Civil War. Jimmy Jump taught in a secondary school in Rochester, Kent, where his internationalism found an outlet in promoting Esperanto; then at Medway College of Technology. On Franco’s death in 1975, he and Cayetana went to live in Logroño. However, health problems forced him to return to England after a few years: to Westcliff-on-Sea, Essex, where he lived until his death in November 1990.

James R. Jump wrote many articles and a number of books on Spain, including several school text-books. His first book, The Spaniard and his Language, dates from 1951; his last in life was the 1,168-page Penguin Spanish Dictionary (1990). A number of his poems appeared in magazines in the 1980s. In 2007, Piedra de Rayo (Logroño) published a bilingual Poems of War and Peace.

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