In July 1936, the terrible civil war broke out and, being in Catalonia, we found ourselves in the republican, anticlerical side of the country. In spite of the hostilities, though, we kept up our house-to-house preaching activity.

One day, while witnessing in Horta, on the outskirts of Barcelona, we were picked up by a Communist militiaman and taken to the local headquarters for interrogation. At that time I was 18 years of age and my brother 14. We were harangued by a local official, who confiscated our literature and warned us not to waste our time preaching. I was told I should be at the front fighting with the comrades. This was our first real taste of the effects of the civil war. Being young, we were shaken by this experience, but we knew that we had to go on preaching the “good news.”

At that time​—in the year 1936—​we did not have as clear a view of Christian neutrality as we do today. (John 15:19) This subject was not clarified in the Spanish Watchtower until March 1940. All I knew was that as a Christian I could not kill.​—Ex. 20:13.

In 1937, at 19 years of age, I was called for military service with the republican army. At first, to avoid participation in this fratricidal conflict, I went into hiding. After some eight months I was traced and tried by the Espionage and High Treason Court. Such was the wartime atmosphere that my parents were convinced I was going to be executed. As it was, I was sentenced to 30 years’ imprisonment. After some months in prison, however, I was released and sent to the front in the province of Lerida. Things were building up there for a big battle.

My first assignment was in an office, which meant that I did not have to use a weapon. That situation soon changed when our company was ordered to the battlefront, near a little town called Serós, on the river Segre. Now, like the rest of the troops, I found myself under fire. On one occasion while sheltering from the bullets in a shallow depression in the ground, there was, at each side of me, a sergeant shouting at me to grab a rifle and start shooting. I ignored the order. A few minutes later they were both dead where they lay.

Finally, our company retreated and, after some three weeks on the move, I was captured by Italian troops of the Littorio Brigade, who were fighting with Franco’s national army. As a prisoner I had some respite from the pressure to participate in the war. It was now the beginning of 1939 and I was assigned to a concentration camp in Deusto, Vizcaya, in the north of Spain. But my problems did not end there. At mealtimes we all had to stand and sing Fascist hymns and give the raised-arm Fascist salute. I just remained seated at the back and discreetly kept on eating. Fortunately, I am rather short in stature and so I went unnoticed. Later, I was transferred to work in a disciplinary battalion. There I was ordered to give the Fascist salute along with the others. On conscientious grounds, I refused to participate in what I considered to be an idolatrous act. The other prisoners thought I was crazy. With Spain embroiled in a civil war, my attitude was tantamount to suicide.

I was called out in front of everybody and ordered to give the Fascist salute. I refused. An officer struck me and tried to raise my arm forcibly, but he failed. A heavy sack of sand was then tied to my back and I was made to run in circles while my legs were whipped with a belt. Finally, I fainted and collapsed and was taken away to solitary confinement. To strengthen my spirits, I began to scrawl Bible texts on the cell wall. Two officers came in and tried to persuade me to salute. My adamant refusal to do such a “simple” thing mystified them, especially since I was due to be released shortly. Eventually, I was taken before a group of officers and army doctors, who decided to send me off to the hospital to have my sanity checked. A few weeks later I was set free and, with the end of the war, was sent home, in April 1939. Those harrowing experiences were now past, and to the best of my ability I had kept my integrity.

POSTWAR DIFFICULTIES

Spain’s civil war ended on April 1, 1939, but the open wounds it had caused continued to fester with hatred for years thereafter. Fear of reprisals, vengeance and anonymous denouncement reigned everywhere. An atmosphere of dread prevailed, accentuated by the ravages of war and the shortage of food.

In this setting I returned to Barcelona to find that the meetings of Jehovah’s people had ‘folded up’ and their preaching work had ceased. Without delay, Paco and I collaborated with others in getting the meetings reestablished at Paquita Arbeca’s home. (Heb. 10:24, 25) We held these on Sundays, basing our studies on the Bible, old copies of The Watchtower and books such as Government, Deliverance and Riches. Our preaching activity was confined to informal contacts.

Due to the outbreak of warfare in 1936, our link had been broken with the Watch Tower Society in Brooklyn, New York. Although the war had ended, we could not communicate with the Society. Why not? Because there was censorship of mail and people were obligated to write patriotic slogans on the envelopes. So it seemed best for us to avoid writing letters.

In 1946 the Spanish press included a news dispatch about the Glad Nations Theocratic Assembly of Jehovah’s Witnesses held in Cleveland, Ohio, U.S.A. That rekindled our hopes. By then the slogans on mail were no longer required. Anxiously, we wrote to the Society to ask for more information. What joy when, some weeks later, we received a letter and a package of magazines! At long last, fresh Bible truth was trickling into our parched field.

POLICE HARASSMENT

In 1955, and coinciding with a visit by Brother F. W. Franz, arrangements were made to hold a secret assembly in the woods on the Tibidabo Mountain, overlooking Barcelona. Our assemblies were usually held picnic-style, in case the police should come upon us. In this case, the “picnic” became enlarged with an attendance of over 500. Another inconvenient factor was that the police had raided a brother’s home the week before and had confiscated a copy of the Informant supplement that had announced the arrangements for this assembly. María and I were present at the “picnic” with our two small sons, David and Paquito.

The program got under way and everything seemed normal until we suddenly saw four men running up the hill, one holding a pistol. They ordered us not to move. Yes, you are right, it was the police in plain clothes. Really thinking they had pulled off a coup, they herded all of us​—men, women and children—​into waiting trucks and took us to police headquarters for identification and interrogation. Imagine the disgust of some of them when they realized they had rounded up inoffensive families that had met together to study the Bible, rather than a clandestine political group. Although nothing came of it all, this experience served to strengthen our integrity and helped us to appreciate Jehovah’s protection.​—Ps. 34:7.