“Las corsarias”, this pasodoble, did not play; We must have slept since Albacete, because they left at four and were the first martial artists this reporter saw. At the Atocha roundabout, with a friendly, almost Kaiserian mustache, was Colonel Hernani (“with an ‘h’ like the people”). He said that to be part of his Royal Brotherhood of Veterans and the Civil Guard it was not necessary to have passed through Cerro Murciano or El Ferrol, that, as in the Legion, the spirit was enough. This spirit of “love of Spain, respect for the Constitution and loyalty to the king and the armed forces”. Loreto Sáez, with the pennants, looked at the sky and knew, or thought he knew, that the patroness of the Air, the Virgin of Loreto, was going to leave the aerial heritage of the Spanish Defense. Miracles, another day… Then everything was like that, wet, yes… But the Spanish army held on, like the citizens under the low pressure (sic). We saw in each of the Spaniards a story, a life, when at the beginning of the morning the clouds did not cast bad omens and on all the roads that lead to Atocha one could perceive an impermeable livid enthusiasm. It was not cold, 17 degrees: but the humidity rose through the “pinreles”, like the flamenco “duende”. Something of a new embarrassment as BRIPAC finalized its details on the Paseo de las Delicias. That nothing was missing from the imposing RG31 vehicle. The tumult of smiling soldiers. Healthy Spain The superiors carried the baton of command, and always the families, which could be divided between those who were going to boo Sánchez and those for whom the booing was already a thing of the past; a senseless exercise in empty popular democracy. Estefania (daughter), Pepe and Virtudes had come from Ibi (Alicante), and Virtudes, with his cart flanked by two national flags, spoke with the enthusiasm of the first day. “The first day I came to the parade,” and it was all smiles. Her husband, “Pep” in the family, watched kilometer 0 of the parade. They would spend the night in Madrid, and in the support wagon of the Virtues was all of that healthy Spain cheering for their army. Related News No Princess Leonor Launches Navy “14 Button” Uniform. Angie Calero praises Spanish soldiers. Lebanon greeting the troops abroad Lorena GamarraIt was the same army that the regulars represented, seen from afar, when the unpatriotic water was already beginning to wet their ‘tarbuchi’ (caps) and they, men of the mainland, they endured the downpour. The army was and will be of course before the monsoon. But there were some in the morning. Alejandro de Villagordo, Jaén, who, in front of the camera, behaved like an asshole to Sánchez and that, on the way back, when it was time, he would stop “at Casa Pepe” and at that stop he would carry his proclamation, even though he was not one of the largest coffee producers. : Alejandro without a camera was free, and what he said was felt even in his gaze and quoting him can lead us to the “trena”. The reporter who writes into the microphone of the newspaper carried the microphone, and it was a warning to the ladies who seemed about to say bad things, then they looked at their hairspray, saw the rain and devalued the Sánchez story . October 12 accumulates minimal and heroic stories: “My son is a civil guard and he parades”, the smile because the camera brings out the best, and the incessant rain. And then the chronicler alone, in search of the human stories that exist. Even stories of flowers like a bouquet of flowers on the Paseo del Prado, or like that of Remedios, from San Clemente, Cuenca, who began as a weeping spectator. Or this pride of Álvaro Díaz, of his son, in Traffic at the Armed Institute, who quietly put himself in the hypothetical role of Sánchez: “If he could, he would kidnap him (on October 12)”, and now, with a certain laconicism, he spoke of the political situation. “Fucking shame,” he said with martial diplomacy, fearlessly and politely in front of those present. Ermua at the paradeThe Aizpurua family took refuge under an umbrella at the Ermua Forum to escape the rain. “Our grandfather, colonel, head of the Loyola barracks, died in an accident. »I was escorting Teina«. The Basques of Spanish depth, like Unamuno, remember in a flash the years of lead, of their relative who carries Spain in their heart and of El Goloso, and of their predecessor Eduardo Aizpurua Reynoso, the “first individual winner of San Fernando” for his merits in 1914. And a cry: “we are Basque, Spanish and military”. They say, with regret, that they are “unfortunately” linked to Mertxe Aizupurua: another underwater boo. Return to the core, Atocha Street. He jokes loudly about “my captain”, the friendly military police and Paloma with a “don’t even talk to me about politics”. Paradoxically, applause was heard for the UME as in other years for the Civil Guard. The storm sank Madrid. We had seen before that there was a future. From the Gran Capitán de Navacerrada camp, the miners and military discipline were encouraged by Corporal Zapatera, with the spirit of the age, Pedro Sánchez thought of horses. In the howl of Madrid. And it rained like in Verlaine’s poem. And it wasn’t raining in his heart.
