Hell has arrived here in Guernica. I find myself looking up through the tall grass at the
underside of dozens of planes. The first planes are enormous - much bigger than the previous
ones. These are made from corrugated grey metal and they too display a black cross underneath.
Each plane has three engines. I think I can see faces watching our annihilation through the many
glass windows visible down the sides of these great bombing machines. They are spread across
the whole of the town. The bombs are dropping one after the other. I feel sure that I am going to
die. The smaller planes follow, releasing smaller bombs - bombs which look like thin silver tubes
and which, when they hit the ground, flash a blinding light before they burst into flames setting fire
to anything that will burn. I listen as women and children scream and run.
From my hiding place in the grass I witness a man with his clothes on fire, his piercing
screams burning a permanent memory into my head just as surely as the flames are devouring
his flesh. He is flapping his arms trying to extinguish the flames, almost stepping on me as he runs
towards the river. Launching himself forward into the cold mountain water, I hear the sizzle as he is
extinguished.
At the back of the swarm of warplanes are many smaller planes, still displaying the
swastika symbol on the tail. With a single propeller and a white nose these planes are flying very
low. I train my vision on a solitary pilot flying one of these planes. He is looking out of the small side
window, searching for anything that moves. He has spotted some people heading for the Renteria
Bridge. They are trying to run from the town. The pilot turns the plane, swoops lower and fires his
machine-gun at them. Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta Ta. Everyone falls to the ground. Dead. A herd of goats
and sheep are also running for ѡ