[160] The end of the world war enabled France to turn her attention once again to North Africa. As a result, Spain was also obliged to abandon the passive policy she had followed since 1915. But the new policy, devised and implemented by a competent africanista, General Dámaso Berenguer, suffered from the same ambiguities and internal contradictions as the old -- in particular, from the failure to clarify the lines of authority in Madrid and in the Protectorate. ⁽¹⁾ Without a clear commitment to colonialism, successive governments neglected their obligation to integrate and control civil and military policy; beleaguered by domestic problems and conscious of widespread anticolonialist sentiment, the dynastic politicians demanded only easy victories at minimum expense. Ultimately, the attempt to win a colonial war on the cheap -- behind the back, as it were, of the anticolonialist majority of the nation -- was the greatest political error of the parliamentary monarchy. For failure left the regime caught between an angry people and an equally angry military establishment.

If Berenguer's assignment in Morocco was complicated by the equivocal support he received from civilians inside and outside the government, so too did it suffer from the poor quality of the military instrument at hand. The African army shared many of the defects of the peninsular army: an excess of officers, outmoded equipment, poorly trained and maintained conscripts, and low morale. Moreover, it had to operate in the face of the indifference or hostility of most of the peninsular army. Even among officers eager to serve in Africa there was often little enthusiasm for the slow, methodical warfare advocated by Berenguer or little comprehension of the Protectorate policy supported by him and the Spanish government. Furthermore, both the Juntas and the older Restoration generals used their leverage in the [161] War Ministry to resist government attempts to provide greater financial or professional rewards for the African army.

Despite these obstacles, with patience, meticulous care, and strong leadership, Berenguer succeeded in forging an efficient colonial army that made steady progress toward the subjugation of the western half of the Protectorate without provoking much criticism. Unfortunately, in the eastern zone, the combination of a headstrong commander, encouraged by a headstrong king, a demoralized army that had imbibed none of the spirit of africanismo typical of the western sector, a weak government that had supported but not guided Moroccan policy, and Berenguer's own excessive tact, would undo the labor of twelve years.

The Renewal of the War

Since September 1915 there had been little fighting in Morocco. Although the African army had chafed, the dynastic parties had welcomed the French request for a military hiatus, since it provided them with an excuse to avoid the unpleasant responsibilities of imperialism without sacrificing the status that colonies conferred. To maintain calm in the Protectorate, the High Commissioner, General Francisco Gómez Jordana, had been instructed to sign a pact with the de facto political authority in the western sector, a tribal leader named al-Raysuni, who received a generous subsidy in return for a promise of nonaggression. A similar policy of bribes was followed in the east. By 1917 this policy had permitted the repatriation of 20,563 conscript troops ⁽²⁾ and the submission of a Moroccan budget that was 33 million pesetas less than in 1915. ⁽³⁾ Given the lack of colonial enthusiasm in the country, the policy was admirably suited to both the nation's mood and its pocketbook.

The African army, however, was less satisfied with the enforced inaction. Al-Raysuni proved an unreliable ally, collaborating openly with German agents and provoking the Spanish garrisons with minor acts of aggression. But the government had repeatedly denied the High Commissioner's requests to issue a military rebuke, not least because labor unrest and the Juntas de Defensa made opening a third area of conflict highly unpalatable. Gómez Jordana obediently carried out government policy and was therefore retained at his post in spite of heavy pressure from the Juntas to dismiss him. When he died at his desk on November 18, 1918, he was writing the government to complain of the absence of merit promotions and pensions and its effect on the morale and performance of his officers. ⁽⁴⁾

[162] Gómez Jordana's death coincided with the end of the world war and the return to office of the Conde de Romanones, who had long believed that "Morocco comprised the last chance offered for Spain to occupy a place worthy of her history in the European concert." ⁽⁵⁾ A political realist, Romanones was aware that few Spaniards shared his colonial enthusiasm; on the other hand, he believed that apart from the Socialists, whose hostility to imperialism was ideological and absolute, equally few were in favor of total abandonment. In Spain, doctrinaire anticolonialism was basically antimilitarism: the working classes hated military service; the parties of the left repudiated military administration of the Protectorate. Even the Republicans, newly united in a National Republican Federation, supported colonialism when it involved a "civilizing mission" rather than conquest. ⁽⁶⁾

This was a goal shared by Romanones himself, although he had been unable to achieve it as prime minister in 1913. Upon returning to office in 1918, he once again made plans to "civilianize" the administration of the Protectorate. On December 11 a royal decree deprived the High Commissioner of the title of General-in-Chief, a designation made in 1915 to overcome the decentralization of military authority in the Protectorate. If the new High Commissioner was to be a civilian, primarily concerned with "political and administrative work," this was a logical measure; its unfortunate corollary was the return of the ambiguity surrounding the lines of authority within the Protectorate. According to the decree, the commanders general would assume "the jurisdiction and the full complement of attributions . . . consequent to said commands, in local and military matters," while the High Commissioner would retain the ultimate authority in the Protectorate, "both in the political and administrative order and in the execution of military operations and the maintenance of security in the region." It was impossible to determine from the decree which operations required the approval of the High Commissioner and which might be considered purely "local and military."

The decree clearly postulated a civilian High Commissioner, but none could be found. As in so many cases, civilian abdication contributed to military power. Romanones first asked Miguel Villanueva, a garciaprietista Liberal who had long been critical of military influence in Morocco, to serve as High Commissioner, but Villanueva, just as he had in 1913, refused. Another refusal came from Manuel González Hontoria, a Liberal career diplomat who had participated in the Moroccan negotiations of 1906 and 1912. ⁽⁷⁾ Since then, González Hontoria had been critical of the debilitating rivalry between the Ministries of State and War, a rivalry certainly not overcome by the decree of December 18. [163] For whatever reason, the two most prominent Liberal critics of the military domination of Spanish colonialism were unwilling to undertake the "civilianization" they demanded.

Romanones still had not made an appointment when he journeyed to the Paris Peace Conference on December 18 hoping to secure Spanish rights to the international city of Tangier. His talks with Clemenceau and Lyautey made it clear that Spain would not get Tangier; on the contrary, the French were eager to absorb the entire Spanish zone and would find the absence of military pacification a convenient excuse for intervention. ⁽⁸⁾ Determined to prove Spain's worth as a colonial power, Romanones was forced to reconsider his plans for a civil Protectorate. Foreseeing the need for military operations to establish an effective Spanish presence, he asked his War Minister, General Dámaso Berenguer y Fuste, to take the post of High Commissioner. On January 25, 1919, the appointment was announced, followed by a royal decree making the High Commissioner the Inspector of all the "civil, military, and naval authorities and services" within the Protectorate, thus partially rescinding the compartmentalization of political and military authority implied in the decree of December 11. At least in the short run, the High Commissioner would continue to preside over military action in Morocco.

General Berenguer

Dámaso Berenguer was a large man, ponderous in appearance, but subtle and precise in taste and expression. ⁽⁹⁾ As an officer, his strength lay in his careful preparation and judicious leadership, unusual qualities in a Spanish Cavalry officer. If his rather reserved personality could not elicit wild enthusiasm in his colleagues or subordinates, his intelligence and authority did win him their respect and loyalty. At the same time, his discretion and sense of the possible -- probably the two qualities valued most highly by the dynastic parties -- earned him the support of civilian politicians. This combination of qualities made him in some ways an ideal choice for High Commissioner; in other ways, his political discretion made him overly tolerant of professional jealousies, civilian indecision, and royal interference. As a result, he failed to impose his authority on the chaos of conflicting interests in Morocco that eventually destroyed his campaign and his career.

As a politique and an africanista, Berenguer was unpopular with the Juntas, who viewed his brilliant career as a by-product of the patronage of General Luque and the king. Undoubtedly, he had profited [164] from these connections and from his intimacy with General Manuel Fernández-Silvestre, who had served as head of the king's Military Household since his involuntary resignation as Commander General of Larache in 1915. Nevertheless, Berenguer's preeminence was well earned. A rarity among Spanish officers, he had taken a serious interest in Morocco and in colonial problems. In 1911, after a tour of Tunisia and Algeria, he had organized the first native shock units in the Spanish zone, the Regulares de Melilla, of which he was the first commander. Under the influence of the French colonialists, Joseph Gallieni and Hubert Lyautey, he had written his own treatise, La guerra en Marruecos, published in 1918. Rejecting the prevailing cult of unthinking machismo, along with the Nietzschean exaltation of the will advocated by his contemporary, Ricardo Burguete, Berenguer argued that successful colonial warfare depended on flexibility, professionalism, and experience. "Political action" -- good roads and schools, respect for Muslim culture, strategic alliances, and judicious bribes -- was essential if military advances were to be consolidated; in the words of Gallieni, "All forward movement must receive, as a sanction, the effective occupation of the conquered territory. ... It is the method of the oil stain." ⁽¹⁰⁾ Once the native population was truly reconciled to the Spanish presence, only skeleton forces were required for security, as Lyautey had proved in neighboring French Morocco during the war. ⁽¹¹⁾

Romanones appointed Berenguer in January 1919 not because he was a reliable political general, but because he was a thoughtful technician of proven leadership abilities whose colonialist views coincided with his own. Mindful as he was of the unpopularity of military operations, however, he instructed Berenguer to assess the possibility of an effective occupation of the zone through exclusively political action, especially through a renegotiated pact with al-Raysuni that would insure his submission to the authority of the sultan. With revolution threatening in Catalonia, Romanones did not wish to risk another Tragic Week.

The Conquest of the Jibala ⁽¹²⁾

After a month's inspection tour of the Protectorate, Berenguer reported, predictably, that effective control of the zone would require military as well as political action. Although he might have been accused of fitting the situation to the theory outlined in his treatise on colonial warfare, in fact his appraisal was a realistic one. The alliance [165] with al-Raysuni was logical only so long as the Spanish were content to maintain a limited presence in the zone. Under French pressure, Spanish objectives had changed; so, too, must their means of occupation. Thus confronted with the implications of their decision to forestall a French takeover, the cabinet divided over a renewal of operations. With the Canadiense strike at its height, it was a difficult decision to make. Yet probably because the cabinet's attention was distracted by events in Barcelona, Romanones and Berenguer -- with the decisive aid of the king -- prevailed. ⁽¹³⁾ When the High Commissioner returned to Tetuan on March 14, Spain was committed to a more aggressive policy in Morocco. The transition had been made without attracting much notice; the nation's attention was focused on the more dramatic problems of food shortages and high prices, the Catalan question, the Juntas, and the Canadiense strike. As usual, Morocco was abandoned to those who were interested in it -- the king, a few politicians, and the army. Only reverses and heavy casualties could stimulate national interest in colonial policy.

Since he was well aware of this, Romanones insisted that the occupation be carried out with the minimum expenditure of lives and money, a political consideration that Berenguer understood and accepted. His three-stage plan for the occupation of the Spanish zone consisted of first linking the two western commands of Larache and Ceuta by pacifying the rebellious tribes loyal to al-Raysuni, which separated their commands; next, dominating the interior of the western sector, the Jibala; and only later undertaking the conquest of the eastern sector, the Rif, which was, for the present, relatively quiescent if not submissive. By relying heavily on political preparation, Berenguer hoped to limit military action; by conducting his campaign in stages, he would require fewer troops and less equipment. The operations initiated near Ceuta on the day after Berenguer's return from Madrid, March 16, 1919, were so successful that they set a pattern for subsequent operations against al-Raysuni in the Jibala. First, Native Police and Moroccan agents "prepared" the advance by convincing as many qa'ids (tribal notables) as possible of the advantages (both economic and political) of cooperation with the Spanish; next, strong mobile columns moved in to occupy the area, only to withdraw immediately to the base camps, leaving behind a temporary front of small outposts known as blocaos, manned by either European or native troops. Nearly one-third of the available forces in the zone were occupied in these defensive positions. Behind the line, Native Police continued their political activity, generally disarming the tribes except where their [166] loyalty was unquestionable. To minimize European casualties, minor offensive and defensive operations at the front were undertaken by contingents of Regulars or Police.

Essentially, the system took advantage of the Moroccan respect for the power nearest at hand. Once the line was established and the threat of force real and immediate, the tribes submitted willingly enough and the administration of the new area could be entrusted to the Police. Berenguer proudly pointed out that "the transition from the state of rebellion to that of submission is scarcely perceptible." ⁽¹⁴⁾ But this virtue had the defect of making the system of advance appear easier than it was. Its success depended on two fundamental ingredients: skilful political preparation and a careful deployment of available forces that guaranteed friendly tribes protection from al-Raysuni. Berenguer never advanced until convinced he could hold a territory, preferring to allow some areas, like the Ghumara, to remain neutral until he could insure effective occupation. Unfortunately, the system would not be understood so well by General Silvestre, whose rapid advance in the Rif in 1920-21 would result in the defeat at Anual.

Berenguer was well aware -- and was incessantly reminded by successive governments in Madrid -- that excessive casualties might trigger the latent popular hostility toward the Moroccan war. Indeed, his cautious, piecemeal advance was dictated as much by these political considerations as by strategic necessity; its flexibility and limited objectives made it possible to adjust operations to the rhythm of events in the peninsula, and the moderate expenditures of lives and funds made no significant impact on public opinion. Above all, Berenguer's system guaranteed success -- little glory, perhaps, and much tedious preparation -- but success that kept widespread criticism from emerging. It was a colonial strategy admirably suited to a nation where there was no popular colonialist sentiment.

As the campaign progressed, political preparation in the peninsular press became as important as it was in the field. Gradually in 1919, and more regularly in 1920 and 1921, the press turned its attention toward Morocco. The illustrated weeklies carried photographs of the barren hills, mysteriously labeled as "military objectives," and introduced their readers to the camps, plazas, airfields, and personalities in the western sector under a perspective that exaggerated the glamour, bravery, and efficiency of the Moroccan enterprise. As the major dailies began to establish permanent correspondents in Morocco, Berenguer took pains to cultivate them, extending interviews and invitations to observe field operations. The gratified journalists responded with welcome propaganda in favor of Spain's mission in North Africa. Weary [167] of justifying the domestic failures of the governmental parties, the dynastic press turned with relief to the "triumphs" in Morocco. The renovationist El Sol, under the leadership of its editor, Manuel Aznar, also became an enthusiastic supporter of the Moroccan enterprise, not only because it seemed to qualify Spain as a modern "European" power, but also because the African army provided a useful contrast to the peninsular bureaucrats in the Juntas. ⁽¹⁵⁾ Thus, both the supporters and the moderate opponents of the regime came to have a political stake in the continuing success of the African army.

The extreme left, however, could not be seduced. For the Socialists, opposition to imperialism was a matter of principle; opposition to the war, a matter of political tactics based primarily on the injustice of the conscription system. At the Ninth International Congress of Trade Unions held in Amsterdam in August 1919, UGT representatives attempted to arouse international opinion against the war in northern Morocco; shortly thereafter, the Madrid Socialist Group agreed to continue its propaganda campaign in favor of abandonment. ⁽¹⁶⁾ The Republicans, too (with the exception of Alejandro Lerroux), rejoined the opposition, after the renewal of operations in early 1919 made it clear that military action would continue to take precedence over Spain's "civilizing mission." After the capture of Fondak in early October 1919, Socialists and Republicans staged a joint protest in Madrid. ⁽¹⁷⁾ As it had been after 1909, Morocco once again became a symbol of the undemocratic character of the regime.

The antiwar propaganda of the left could be neutralized by a successful campaign, as the general clamor of approval for the occupation of Fondak showed. Casualties or defeats, on the other hand, provided a national audience for what was otherwise a sectarian protest. In July 1919, in the early stages of the campaign, an incident at Cudia Rauda, just west of Tetuan, showed how easily an error could be exploited by the political opposition. Berenguer, who was quietly organizing for the assault on Fondak, had informed El Sol on July 13 that "the military effort is already done" and had promised few casualties in the future. ⁽¹⁸⁾ Thus, when the Commander General of Ceuta, General Domingo Arraiz, requested permission the next day to establish a position at the edge of the Wad Ras territory, Berenguer consented only on the condition that it be limited to a police operation by native troops. ⁽¹⁹⁾ The officer in charge of the operation, Colonel Angel Rodríguez del Barrio, decided, however, that such limitations were "more appropriate for Hebrews than for a nation that comes to impose its civilization and its force," ⁽²⁰⁾ and undertook the maneuver with two columns of inexperienced European conscripts, suffering two hundred casualties when [168] the retreat back to the base was ambushed. To make matters worse, through two days of combat, the colonel and his superior, Arraiz, refused to respond to Berenguer's frantic demands for accurate information, making it impossible for him to relay the details of the incident to the press. ⁽²¹⁾ Predictably, the leftist press accused Berenguer of a cover-up and repeated its traditional denunciations of Spanish imperialism, ⁽²²⁾ while in the Cortes, the Republican deputy, Augusto Barcia, questioned the Maura government on the incident, triggering a debate that culminated in a vote of no confidence. Cudia Rauda shocked the nation, alarmed the politicians, and delighted the opposition. In the long run, however, it may have contributed to the success of the war against al-Raysuni, for it alerted Berenguer to the organizational defects that had contributed to the setback.

The Organization of a Colonial Army

Cudia Rauda and Berenguer's subsequent decision to strengthen the African army coincided with the designation of Joaquín Sánchez de Toca as prime minister. Sánchez de Toca had presided over the Spanish League of Africanistas from 1912 until February 1919, when he had resigned to protest the renewal of military operations. An advocate of a civil Protectorate, he might have opposed Berenguer's military plans, but the circumstances of his four months in office left him little time to devote to Moroccan affairs. As the prime minister grappled with General Milans del Bosch, the Juntas, the CNT, and the Employers' Federation, the War Minister, General Tovar, seconded by the Minister of State, the Marqués de Lema, generally approved Berenguer's efforts to reform his army. These efforts were vindicated by the successful capture of Fondak in October 1919. Thereafter, the War Ministry dominated Moroccan policymaking. After the fall of Sánchez de Toca in December, no Conservative prime minister took much interest in Morocco. The Marqués de Lema, who remained in the Foreign Ministry until July 1921, allowed his ministry to be superseded without protest, undoubtedly because the military overshadowed every civilian entity in Morocco.

Badly in need of reform, the African army suffered from divided lines of authority, limited funding, and a lack of professionalism. With major operations planned for 1920, all of these problems were pressing, but none more so, in Berenguer's view, than the first. His system of advance was designed to compensate for meager material support, the creation of professional units was a matter of time and experience, [169] but the incident at Cudia Rauda had dramatized the dangers of an ambiguous command structure. The difficult situation was exacerbated by the prickly sensitivity of the commanders general to any infringement of their autonomy, particularly by a relatively young and only recently promoted division general whose conservative approach to conquest was not in Spanish tradition. The Commander General of Ceuta, General Arraiz, had been uncooperative since Berenguer's arrival. The situation became even more delicate in July 1919, when General Silvestre was appointed to replace him. Silvestre and Berenguer were old friends, graduates of the AGM who were commissioned together as lieutenants in the Cavalry Corps in 1893. Silvestre, however, was two years older than Berenguer, and one place ahead of him in the active list; in addition, as an intimate of the king and head of his Military Household, he had been in a position to promote Berenguer's political career. ⁽²³⁾ Finally, Silvestre was a Cavalry officer of the old school -- brave, but also rash, impatient of detail, and unfamiliar with Berenguer's brand of colonial warfare. Shortly after his arrival he advised Berenguer that he could not undertake operations with the existing forces -- some 11,800 troops -- without the addition of a complete regiment from the peninsula. ⁽²⁴⁾ With the government already fearful of alarming popular opinion, this ultimatum jeopardized the proposed assault on Fondak. It was only with difficulty that Berenguer was able to convince Silvestre -- and the government -- that his methods did not require the same number of forces as conventional warfare. ⁽²⁵⁾

In January 1920 Berenguer arranged for Silvestre's transfer to the General Command of Melilla, "a command of greater responsibilities and with an independence more compatible with his distinguished personality. . . ," ⁽²⁶⁾ From Berenguer's point of view, the transfer was politically astute and militarily harmless so long as no major operations were contemplated in the Rif. But Silvestre had fretted on his short leash in Ceuta. Once relieved of Berenguer's restraining presence, he began a precipitous, unprepared -- and, for the moment -- unopposed advance into the heart of the Rif. Somewhat nervously, Berenguer warned Silvestre of the need for caution. ⁽²⁷⁾ But, conscious of Silvestre's support in the palace and unwilling to damage a friendship, he stopped short of ordering Silvestre to halt his advance. Indeed, Silvestre's easy conquests won new friends for the campaign in the peninsula and gratified the king, who shared Silvestre's contempt for Berenguer's caution.

Berenguer was aware of the source -- and the danger -- of his inhibition with regard to Silvestre. Therefore, after a visit to the eastern sector in May 1920, he requested the title of General-in-Chief of the [170] African Army in order to "subordinate to a common goal personal initiatives, which when repressed, consider the autonomy officially granted them to be infringed upon. . . ," ⁽²⁸⁾ A response from Madrid was not immediately forthcoming, however. Berenguer's elevation to General-in-Chief was sure to cause resentment among senior generals in Africa and in the peninsula. More important, the title would officially confirm the steady erosion of the concept of the civil Protectorate, and consequently, of the policymaking authority of the Ministry of State. Perhaps most decisively, the measure might alarm the nation, which had been lulled into passivity by the steady advances and low casualties of the first stage of the campaign. The decree, issued September 1, 1920, was therefore a compromise: it gave the High Commissioner, as long as he was a general, the nominal "command in chief" of the African army without designating his office as a necessary communications link between the general commands and the War Ministry. Furthermore, where major operations were not anticipated, the High Commissioner might delegate his military functions to the commanders general. Since none were scheduled in Melilla, Berenguer did not insist on exercising his new authority in that sector, out of deference to Silvestre's notorious pride. ⁽²⁹⁾ He apparently hoped, naively, that his new title would by itself curb Silvestre's headlong rush into enemy territory. Instead, the decree merely legitimated Silvestre's continued direct contacts with his partisans in the War Ministry. By delegating his military authority to Silvestre, Berenguer saved himself a confrontation with his friend and, possibly, with the king. He also made himself ultimately responsible for the disaster at Anual.

The other problems facing the African army -- specifically its insufficient funding and the absence of professional colonial units -- became more urgent as Berenguer moved into the second stage of the campaign in early 1920. Fortunately, the parliamentary deadlock over a new budget was broken in April 1920, allowing Berenguer to plan for an autumn assault on Xauen (Chaouen), a pilgrimage city that lay between the Jibala and the Ghumara. The War Ministry's share of the 169 million pesetas budgeted for Morocco was 154 million, a 50 percent increase from 1917. ⁽³⁰⁾ Nearly 60 percent of this total, however, was consumed by personnel expenditures. As in the peninsula, the garrisons were top-heavy with unnecessary officers, who enjoyed a 50 percent pay supplement for African service. ⁽³¹⁾ Troop expenditures were greater, too, for conscripts served their full three years to keep the regiments at full strength. Still, the 1920 budget provided more funds for artillery, transportation, aviation, and hospitals, which would be supplemented later in the year by credits totaling 2 million pesetas. [171] Another 20 million in credits would be forthcoming the following summer. ⁽³²⁾ On the whole, the budget represented a vote of confidence in Berenguer and the African army; most criticism centered on the much larger War Ministry budget, which was itself an obstacle to further spending in Morocco. Only the left and a few die-hard supporters of the peninsular army expressed discontent with either the policies or the priorities of the Moroccan campaign, even though the enormous imbalance between military and civil expenditures in the Protectorate was an obvious point of attack. ⁽³³⁾ The relative lack of discussion was a measure of the general indifference toward anything but prestige considerations in Morocco.

The increases in military expenditures were not large enough to alter radically the material circumstances of the Moroccan campaign. Until a significant reduction could be made in the colonial officer corps, salaries -- raised again in the 1920 budget because of inflation -- would continue to stand in the way of modernization. There were two solutions: military reform or substantially higher funding. But military reform would surely have resuscitated the Juntas, and a larger Moroccan budget might have aroused public opposition to the war, whose costs were at present proportional to its rewards. Both a general and a politician, Berenguer thus adopted a middle course, privately urging the government to increase expenditures, while assuring both the government and the public that his army was adequately supported. ⁽³⁴⁾ By concentrating the available equipment in the western sector, he was able to take maximum advantage of his resources, while sparing the nation the burden of a two-front war. ⁽³⁵⁾ When al-Raysuni had been defeated, equipment and funds could be diverted to the eastern sector for the final stages of the campaign. With this in mind, he ignored General Silvestre's repeated requests in 1920 and early 1921 for reinforcements and more credits.

A more intractable, and yet more urgent, problem was the condition of the Spanish troops. The class basis of the conscription system made the war -- and of course the regime itself -- vulnerable to attacks from the left. An inspection tour of the Protectorate in July 1920 appalled the new War Minister, the Vizconde de Eza, whose official report described at length the physical condition of the troops, the degrading and unsanitary quarters in which they lived, the lack of proper clothing and equipment, and the scarcity of hospitals and medical supplies. ⁽³⁶⁾ African service represented three years of painful servitude and often illness or death, even for troops largely spared the risks of combat. For Eza, as for Berenguer, it was clear that the Moroccan enterprise would remain vulnerable until conscripts could [172] be replaced by professional volunteers, a long-range -- and extremely costly -- goal.

On August 31, 1920, Eza authorized recruitment for the Spanish Foreign Legion, or Tercio de Extranjeros, which Berenguer had been advocating for nearly a year. Officially created on January 28, 1920, the project had remained on paper because of the opposition of the Juntas, who were suspicious of "elite" units, and of General Silvestre in Melilla, who continued to believe, against all the evidence, that the war ought to be fought with Spanish conscripts led by regular officers. Eza, however, now believed otherwise, and recruitment for the first bandera (battalion) was immediately undertaken by Lieutenant Colonel José Millán-Astray, who had observed the French Foreign Legion in Algeria. High salaries and enlistment bonuses, excellent rations and quarters, and an exotic uniform designed by the first training officer, Major Francisco Franco, made recruitment relatively easy; funds were made available by discharging two third-year conscripts for every new legionnaire. ⁽³⁷⁾ By emphasizing fanatical courage, iron discipline, and personal stoicism, Millán-Astray and Franco quickly forged a combat unit whose romantic view of life and death made it remarkably effective in combat. ⁽³⁸⁾ The Tercio was in the vanguard at the capture of Xauen in October 1920 and in all major operations in the Jibala thereafter. In the Rif, however, Silvestre refused to authorize the formation of comparable units.

Expansion of the previously existing combat units -- the Regulars and the Native Police -- proved more difficult. Inadequate pay had kept recruitment low, despite a small increase in June 1919, when Moroccans had totaled only 10,570 out of 64,666 troops in the zone; ⁽³⁹⁾ even unskilled day laborers could earn more than the three pesetas a day offered to native soldiers. But even had more funds been available, Berenguer was reluctant to expand the native troops much beyond one-third of his total forces because of their potential unreliability. ⁽⁴⁰⁾ Although France had a much higher percentage in her colonial armies, the size and ethnic diversity of her empire had made it unnecessary to rely on Moroccans to suppress other Moroccans.

Officer recruitment for these units was no easier. Assignment to the shock units involved much greater risks and sacrifices than assignment to the garrisons in the principal cities, without offering compensatory rewards. Although the Regulars had always attracted the most dedicated africanistas, there were too few of these in the Spanish officer corps to fill all the available places, especially in the Rif; the Native Police, less prestigious and also less exciting, suffered even more. Since 1914 it had been necessary to fill these posts by rotation, [173] compelling the most junior peninsular officers to serve two years in the Moroccan hinterland, an unsatisfactory solution that placed demoralized and inexperienced officers in the most sensitive positions. After the advent of the Juntas and the abolition of merit promotions in 1918, the situation had deteriorated. ⁽⁴¹⁾ Morale was low -- in the west because officers exposed themselves to hardship and danger for no reward, in the east because the boredom of front-line service was rarely alleviated by periods of combat. Alarmed by a protest demonstration by officers in the Jibala during his tour in July 1920, the Vizconde de Eza had spoken publicly of the need to ease the existing restrictions on merit promotions, but the outcry from the Juntas had quickly changed his mind. Instead, salaries were raised in both the Regulars and the Police. ⁽⁴²⁾ While this satisfied some, other young officers with professional ambitions transferred into the Tercio, which offered high risks, but also glamour, prestige and esprit de corps.

The difficulties of forging a professional colonial army exacerbated the tension between peninsular and African officers. The latter blamed the Juntas for the general lack of zeal for the campaign within the officer corps; the former saw only that merit promotions -- earned or unearned -- would slow down their own promotions. Furthermore, the success of the African army and its isolation from the political tensions in the peninsula had given the left another avenue through which to attack the Juntas. The potential of this approach, which permitted distinctions between the Juntas and "the army," was realized almost immediately by El Sol, which began making invidious comparisons between the "sterile, counterproductive, and harmful" Juntas and their "brave victim," the Moroccan army, as early as 1919. ⁽⁴³⁾

The Juntas angrily defended themselves, but even the most stubborn juntero could not fail to be impressed by the mounting insurrection in the Jibalan garrisons. Although no mention of this friction appeared in the military press, it was indirectly visible in the new line adopted by La Correspondencia Militar, which first proposed purely honorific decorations, and then more radically, an autonomous colonial army with a separate promotions list. ⁽⁴⁴⁾Not surprisingly, this suggestion aroused little enthusiasm among africanistas, most of whom harbored professional ambitions that transcended the boundaries of the Protectorate. In rebuttal, africanistas argued that distinguished performance in combat was the best criterion for selecting the leadership of the peninsular as well as the colonial army; by isolating African officers from the rest of the officer corps, the Spanish army would condemn itself to mediocrity. In the spring of 1921 the training commander of the Tercio, Major Franco, submitted an article to the Memorial de [174] Infantería that was rejected by its Junta-dominated editorial board. Franco insisted that Africa provided the only reliable training ground for the leadership cadres of the future and urged the immediate restoration of merit promotions. Otherwise, he warned, military vocation would soon be "suffocated by the weight of the list in the lazy life of the garrisons." ⁽⁴⁵⁾

Clearly, there was emerging in the western sector of the Protectorate a group of young officers of strong military vocation and equally strong ambition, whose impatience with the political favoritism of the older generation was surpassed only by their contempt for the incompetence and sloth of the peninsular junteros. It was these same officers whose steady advance against al-Raysuni between 1919 and 1921 provided the only victories for the dynastic parties, who were otherwise mired in repression and obstructionism. As both the Conde de Romanones and the king perceived, the African army offered the regime an opportunity to identify with a competent faction of the officer corps and with a successful campaign. To a certain extent, the Conservative governments of 1920 and 1921 took advantage of this, claiming credit for the military advance in the west and co-opting the formerly Liberal General Berenguer, whom they made a life senator in 1921. Yet these same governments did not actively promote the Moroccan campaign; they merely exploited its victories. Underfunded and unrewarded, the African army saw its interests sacrificed to those of the juntas, whose leverage derived from their proximity to the social crisis in the peninsula. As a consequence, the africanistas withdrew into a moral isolation that was rooted in the conviction that they alone were responsible for the conquest of the Jibala and that was nourished by both pride and resentment.

While the African army advanced, the nation -- the "political nation" -- applauded. Although the working classes and the working-class parties remained opposed to colonialism, the middle and upper classes, protected from service by the quota system, traded their earlier indifference for enthusiasm. Even La Correspondencia Militar, hostile to the africanistas, was committed to Spanish imperialism in North Africa, not least because it perceived that in large measure, anticolonialism in Spain was merely antimilitarism in disguise. In the military press, abandonistas now received the venom earlier reserved for aliadófilos. ⁽⁴⁶⁾ Public support for the campaign picked up after the capture of Xauen in October 1920, a well-executed (and well-publicized) operation that provided exoticism, intrigue, and few casualties. During the coming spring, Berenguer continued to tighten his net around the rebellious [175] al-Raysuni. By mid-July 1921 he had encircled him in his mountain refuge at Tazrut. National attention had shifted during the spring of 1921, however, toward the General Command at Melilla and its colorful commander, General Silvestre.

Silvestre in the Rif

Shortly after his transfer to Melilla in January 1920, Silvestre had initiated an unauthorized but successful advance into the Rif, occupying the Tafersit territory in August. At this point, Berenguer had instructed him to subdue the hostile tribes on his right flank that lay between Melilla and Alhucemas Bay, the access point to the central Rif. For the High Commissioner, this implied many months of preparatory action by the Native Police. Only two months later, however, Silvestre startled Berenguer by requesting permission to operate immediately in order to forestall the spread of a rebellion that had developed in the Beni Waryaghil tribe near Alhucemas. ⁽⁴⁷⁾

The leader of the rebellion was a former client and employee of the Spanish, Muhammed ^cAbd al-Karim (or Abd el-Krim, as he was known to the Spanish). ⁽⁴⁸⁾ Born in 1882, educated in both Muslim and Spanish schools, Abd el-Krim had been closely identified with the Spanish since 1906; by 1914 he was a qadi, or judge, specializing in mining rights in the Office of Native Affairs in Melilla and an editor of El Telegrama del Rif. During the war, however, he and his family had been punished for their pro-German activities. At the end of the war, Abd el-Krim briefly resumed his duties at the newspaper. Then, fearful of extradition to the French for punishment, he had returned to his home at Ajdir in January 1919. The following year, Abd el-Krim, his father, and his brother began a war of rebellion against the Spanish.

The Abd el-Krims were guided by a mixture of idealism and self-interest. Alarmed by the appearance of Spanish agents in Beni Waryaghil territory, they were determined to retain their tribal independence, which they experienced as a kind of ethnic nationalism.  More immediate provocations were the loss of their pensions and their exclusion from an informal mining consortium that included the correspondent for El Sol, the Republican mining engineer who also owned El Liberal of Bilbao, Horacio Echevarrieta, and his agent, Idris bin Said. ⁽⁴⁹⁾ By the winter of 1920-21, the brothers' charisma and organizational abilities had enabled them to assemble a haraka, or militia, of several thousand Beni Waryaghil tribesmen, who were motivated by [176] xenophobia, religious hatred, economic distress, and the passion for independence that had characterized the region long before the arrival of the Spanish.

Still unwilling to cross his strong-minded colleague, Berenguer reluctantly accepted Silvestre's reasoning and gave him permission to operate, even though the second stage of the campaign in the west was not yet complete. He was reassured when Silvestre's advance was unopposed, then alarmed again by a pessimistic report from Colonel Gabriel Morales, the head of the Office of Native Affairs in Melilla, on February 16, 1921. ⁽⁵⁰⁾ A protégé of Berenguer's, Morales was a conscientious Staff officer familiar with the system of advance in the Jibala. In his view, Silvestre had abused that system, whose success depended entirely on political preparation before and after military operations.  Having advanced 120 kilometers with a minimum of political action, Silvestre's forces were now overextended, tied down in a string of strategically indefensible blocaos that stretched from the capital to the position at Anual on the forward line. Now Morales suggested that after extending the front from Anual to Sidi Dris on the coast, operations should cease until more troops were available to deal with the hostile Beni Waryaghil near Alhucemas Bay. After a personal inspection of the eastern command on March 28, Berenguer agreed and instructed Silvestre to halt his march toward Alhucemas until troops and equipment could be transferred from the Jibala. At the same time, however, Berenguer did nothing to discourage the popular enthusiasm in the peninsula for Silvestre's rapid advance, even announcing to the press in early April that Alhucemas Bay was "mature fruit." ⁽⁵¹⁾

After seventeen months of inhibition, Berenguer had finally dared to restrain his friend Silvestre. But by March 1921 it was too late. For one thing, the halt left Silvestre's forces dispersed and immobilized in a position system designed to be shifting and temporary. For another, the security of the entire line depended on the highly problematic quiescence of the tribes both beyond and behind it. Finally and most important, Silvestre was too volatile and too self-confident to accept for long a policy of inaction. Within a few months he would upset the uneasy equilibrium in the Rif and trigger an attack by Abd el-Krim's haraka that would obliterate the achievements of twelve years of Spanish occupation.

Silvestre's decision to ignore Berenguer's orders seems to have been made in Madrid, where he spent several weeks on leave in late April and early May 1921. Hailed in the press and honored at testimonial banquets, Silvestre's vanity grew along with his sense of personal injury. ⁽⁵²⁾ With public opinion expecting an immediate assault on [177] Alhucemas Bay, he was undoubtedly depressed by the knowledge that his day of glory must wait until Berenguer had completed the campaign against al-Raysuni. Most decisively, Silvestre's frustration was shared by Alfonso XIII, whose support for the Moroccan war had been unflagging since the beginning of Spanish involvement and whose colonialist enthusiasm had compensated for the indifference of the governmental parties. Like his former aide, Alfonso was impatient of Berenguer's cautious brand of colonial warfare and resentful of the financial constraints that held up military operations in the Rif. More generous support for the Moroccan campaign was partially behind his antiparliamentary speech in Cordova on May 23, 1921, as he revealed during an interview in exile in 1933:

The real responsibility for that disaster [Anual] may be appropriated to those who refused to vote the military credits indispensablein those circumstances.Perhaps the only thing I have to repent is having scrupulously observed the articles of the Constitution in those years. If I had ceased being constitutional King in order to be simply King, it is possible that the disaster at Anual might have been avoided and subsequently the Dictatorship that circumstances imposed. ⁽⁵³⁾

There were few to dissuade him in the Melilla garrison. ⁽⁵⁶⁾ Most of the young officers in Melilla worshiped Silvestre, whose virile self-confidence inspired one impressionable writer in El Telegrama del Rif to compare him to Alexander the Great and Charlemagne. ⁽⁵⁷⁾ In return, the Commander General allowed his subordinates to call him "Manolo" and address him with the familiar "tu"; the young officers closest to him were known generally in Melilla as the "manolos." This lapse of discipline spread easily into all other areas. Melilla was riddled with brothels, taverns, and gaming houses, where the money obtained through endemic graft and illegal business activities was spent freely.  Because the zone was relatively peaceful and service in the outlying positions tedious and uncomfortable, Silvestre allowed most officers to return to Melilla every night, leaving only a junior officer in the field. [178] In contrast to Ceuta, positions in the Regulars and Police carried little prestige and had to be assigned in rotation, the work of the Staff officers and of the minority of dedicated africanistas in the Native Office was laughed at and ignored, and the General Staff -- labeled the "estorbo mayor" by Silvestre -- was as resented in Melilla as it was in the peninsula. The atmosphere was, in short, very different from that prevailing in the western sector, where two years of combat and careful supervision by Berenguer had produced a cult of discipline and africanismo. The army of Africa in Melilla, in fact, closely resembled the peninsular army in its inefficiency and bureaucratic laxity, if not in its morals.

Spurred on by the king, a contact in the War Ministry, and his camarilla in Melilla, Silvestre resumed his forward march during the last week in May. Over the objections of his chief of staff and of Colonel Morales, ⁽⁵⁸⁾ he ordered one of the manolos, Major Villar of the Police, to occupy Abarrán, a mountainous position northwest of Anual. Shortly after Villar's return, the outpost at Abarrán was betrayed by the 50 native Regulars, who joined an attack by Timsaman tribesmen that left 179 of the 200 Spanish troops and officers dead. Three days later, Beni Waryaghil and Timsaman tribesmen began a full-scale attack on the coastal position of Sidi Dris that left another 100 dead. Undeterred by this setback, on June 5 Silvestre informed Berenguer of his intention to occupy new positions along the front once he had been granted more men and equipment. ⁽⁵⁹⁾

For the last time, the ambiguous command structure and the lack of informed authority in the War Ministry became critical. Berenguer sailed to Sidi Dris for a meeting with Silvestre the same day. Once again his sense of delicacy, reinforced by his desire to return quickly to the operations in the Jibala, led him to accept Silvestre's assurances that his line was secure. After denying Silvestre's request for permission to retake Abarrán, he informed the agitated Vizconde de Eza and the national press that there was no cause for alarm. ⁽⁶⁰⁾ Then he returned to his pursuit of al-Raysuni at Tazrut, confident that he could rely on Silvestre to maintain the status quo a few months longer.

In fact, the situation in the Rif veered wildly out of control after Abarrán. Having exposed the vulnerability of the Spanish, Abd el-Krim convinced tribes all along the front to join his haraka, which now numbered between 3,000 and 4,000. Silvestre, ignoring the warnings of Gabriel Morales in the Office of Native Affairs, ⁽⁶¹⁾ ordered the construction of an outpost at Igueriben, near Anual, the day after his interview with Berenguer, and bombarded his superiors with requests for reinforcements throughout June and early July. Distracted by events in [179] the west and lulled by Silvestre's erroneous reports of absolute quiescence in the zone, Berenguer and Eza ignored these demands for more troops. According to Silvestre, there were 25,790 troops in the Melilla Command, including 5,000 Moroccans in the Regulars and Police, an adequate force for defense, especially if there were no danger of rebellion. Reinforcements would have to come from the peninsula, an option rejected firmly by both Eza and Berenguer. ⁽⁶²⁾ Even though Silvestre grumbled publicly and privately about the economies imposed on him, he consistently denied the possibility of an attack, complaining instead of the "morbid inaction" and its effects on morale. ⁽⁶³⁾ Accustomed by now to Silvestre's displays of temperament, neither Berenguer nor Eza took him very seriously. On July 20 a column led by General José Sanjurjo was only six kilometers from al-Raysuni's hideout in Tazrut. Berenguer was sure his forces would have taken the position by July 25, the day of Santiago, making it possible to attend to the Rif within a few months.

Anual

Silvestre's assurances notwithstanding, the signs of an impending attack at Anual were visible from the middle of June, and unmistakable after July 7 when the new outpost at Igueriben was occupied. By the fourteenth, supply convoys from Anual were being harassed; by the nineteenth, Igueriben was cut off and under siege. Yet Silvestre's reports to Berenguer still conveyed no sense of urgency; on July 20 he requested "the quantity of men and elements that you deem sufficient" and then more specifically on the twenty-first, five hundred horses, an Infantry regiment, two Artillery batteries, three Quartermaster companies, and a credit of four million pesetas for road construction. ⁽⁶⁴⁾ Puzzled, Berenguer asked for clarification, while reminding Silvestre that no troops could be spared from the west at that moment. It appears that Silvestre himself did not appreciate the gravity of the situation until he arrived at Anual with all the reinforcements he could muster in Melilla late in the day of the twenty-first. Shortly thereafter, the besieged troops at Igueriben were given the order to retreat. The Moroccan troops mutinied and joined the assault on the three hundred Spaniards, killing all but twenty-five. Next Abd el-Krim began to organize his haraka for an attack on the forty-five hundred defenders of Anual. Only then did Silvestre communicate the urgent need for reinforcements to Berenguer and the War Ministry.

The morning of July 22 Berenguer rushed reinforcements to Melilla, [180] thus losing the opportunity to capture al-Raysuni, whom he had patiently stalked for two years. But Silvestre, suddenly fatalistic, now refused to wait for rescue. Ignoring the advice of Colonel Morales one last time, he ordered an immediate retreat to Ben Tieb, a supply base eighteen kilometers behind Anual. With his characteristic disregard for organization, Silvestre left the operation to his subordinates, preferring to die a hero's death (along with Colonel Morales) at Anual. Consequently, the retreat progressed "without order, orientation, or control, without any guiding principle except to get away from Anual, with complete disregard for the most elemental rules of retreat." ⁽⁶⁵⁾ If the panic of the Spanish conscripts was excusable, it was not inevitable, the responsibility of officers too demoralized by years of corruption and idleness to restore order and assert their leadership at a crucial moment. As Morales had predicted, most of the native units mutinied and joined their compatriots in the slaughter of the terrified troops, who reached Ben Tieb and continued in a wave toward Melilla, their panic infecting positions all along the route. As word of the retreat spread throughout the territory, the supposedly pacified tribes in the rear, still armed, joined the rebellion, as did all of the Police units and many of the Regulars guarding them. A few blocaos resisted bravely; the majority abandoned their posts without a fight and joined the mob struggling to escape. There were moving cases of heroism. General Felipe Navarro, the second in command at Melilla, left the city, rounded up all the stray troops he could find at Dar Drius, and herded them back toward Melilla, stopping finally at Monte Arruit with thirteen hundred men on July 29. His retreat was courageously covered by the Cavalry regiment of Alcántara, led by Lieutenant Colonel Fernando Primo de Rivera (a cousin of the general), who died of a gangrenous wound several days later. But the few exceptions only provided a contrast with the majority of officers, whose dishonorable conduct would cast a shadow over the Spanish army for many years after.

Berenguer had arrived in Melilla on July 23 with 2,000 men, including two banderas of Tercios, two tabores of Regulars, and four battalions led by General Sanjurjo. In Melilla, the High Commissioner was only able to locate 1,800 demoralized and unfit Spanish troops out of the 25,790 that supposedly had existed before the disaster. Between 8,000 and 10,000 Europeans were dead or missing; an unknown number were trapped in Nador, Zeluan, and Monte Arruit south of the city, or were still wandering in the Rif. Still others -- perhaps as many as 1,500 -- had existed only on paper or were illegally on leave in the peninsula. ⁽⁶⁶⁾ Nearly all of the 5,000 Moroccan troops had defected, [181] with the exception of a few Regulars, who had been disarmed and turned away, leaving them no alternative but to join the rebels. ⁽⁶⁷⁾ Furthermore, there was almost no equipment in the city. During the retreat, 129 field guns, 292 machine guns, 29,500 rifles, and several hundred head of livestock had been seized or abandoned, and the 6 aircraft at Zeluan had been lost because their pilots had been asleep in Melilla at the time of the disaster. ⁽⁶⁸⁾

By July 28 reinforcements from the peninsula brought the number of troops in Melilla to forty-five hundred men, a force sufficient to defend the city, which was highly vulnerable to attack. But, as Berenguer informed Eza on July 29, the quality and morale of the new forces was too low to permit a rescue sortie to the three outposts to the south. ⁽⁶⁹⁾ The reasons for this inadequacy were political, not military. Fearful of triggering a protest similar to the Tragic Week of 1909, Eza ignored the mobilization plans of the General Staff, which would have required the call-up of complete regiments, including all of the recently discharged third-year conscripts. ⁽⁷⁰⁾ Instead, he called up isolated battalions composed largely of quota soldiers, who were presumably politically reliable, if not well trained or psychologically prepared to see combat. ⁽⁷¹⁾ As a consequence, the only experienced troops at Berenguer's disposal were the Tercios and Regulars from Ceuta. As he watched helplessly in Melilla, the outposts collapsed one by one and the survivors, overcome by lack of water and supplies, surrendered and were slaughtered by their besiegers. Nador fell on August 2; Zeluan, two days later. On August 6, with nearly seventeen thousand expeditionary forces in Melilla, Berenguer and four other generals, including the newly appointed Commander General, José Cavalcanti, agreed to order a surrender at Monte Arruit. On August 9, as the troops emerged from the fort, the Moroccans killed all but General Navarro and about six hundred officers and civilians, who were taken prisoner and held for ransom.

The fall of Monte Arruit was the final stage of the collapse that had begun July 22 and that had wiped out all the gains made in twelve years of military occupation. The cause of the disaster would be debated endlessly for the next two years, until the answer to the question became less important than the political use that could be made of the question itself. In any event, the responsibility lay diffused among nearly all those who would eventually be accused. The disaster at Anual was the consequence of years of inefficiency and waste in the Spanish army, of corruption and indifference in the Melilla Command, of the passivity of successive cabinets and of the unconstitutional [182] intervention of the king, of the impulsiveness and ambition of General Silvestre, and of the excessive discretion of General Berenguer. Above all, Anual was a tragic symbol of the political irresponsibility of the dynastic parties, whose pursuit of cheap glory abroad and political stability at home had led them to abdicate control of the Moroccan enterprise to a defective but ambitious army.

1. See above, p. 39.

2. Dámaso Berenguer y Fuste, conde de Xauen, Campañas en el Rif y Yebala, 1919-1921, 1:17.

3. Anuario estadístico (1917), p. 385.

4. His letter is in Berenguer, Campañas, 1:12-23.

5. Conde de Romanones, Obras completas, 3:292.

6. The platform of the National Republican Directory, dated Nov. 19, 1918, contained the following plank on Morocco:

At one time it could be discussed whether the solution to the problem of our Protectorate in Morocco was abandonment. This occurred when therewas no hope that it would cease to be, as it is, in its exploitation, occupation, and administration, a great shame, a great ignominy, as were the last days of our colonial administration.

But things are going to change. The Republic will not abandon this piece of earth. . . . The Republic, which will follow a path in international politics that unites peoples through racial affinity, common boundaries,and harmony of interests, will negotiate with its natural allies, the democracies of the western nations, to fortify with their support and sympathy the moral standing of Spain, her integral independence, viewed fromTangier without remorse, not from Gibraltar, which oppresses and alters the beat of the national heart. [Fernando Díaz-Plaja, La historia de España en sus documentos (nueva serie): El siglo XX, pp. 398-404]

7. Romanones in DSC (Nov. 14, 1921), 8:4159-60.

8. Berenguer, Campañas, 1:35.

9. There is one biography of Berenguer by Juan de Alfarache, Berenguer. A better understanding of the man can be derived from his military and political
memoirs: Campañas; Campañas en el Rif y Yebala, 1921-1922; and De la dictadura a la república.

10. From Gallieni's La guerre dans les colonies, quoted in Dámaso Berenguer y Fuste, La guerra en Marruecos, p. 43.

11. For Lyautey's methods, see Alan Scham, Lyautey in Morocco.

12. The following discussion is based primarily on Berenguer's account, Campañas.

13. Ibid., 1:69.

14. Ibid., p. 73

15. See El Sol, Oct. 6 and 21, 1919, p. 1.

16. Marqués de Lema to Burgos y Mazo, Sept. 2, 1919, and an intelligence report to the Interior Ministry, in Manuel de Burgos y Mazo, El verano de 1919 en Gobernación, pp. 327-28.

17. La Época, Oct. 15 and 19, 1919, pp. 2, 1.

18. El Sol, July 13, 1919, p. 1.

19. Berenguer, Campañas, 1:156.

20. Rodríguez del Barrio to an aide of Berenguer's, Aug. 22, 1919, quoted in Francisco Gómez Hidalgo, Marruecos, la tragedia prevista, p. 136.

21. Rodríguez del Barrio was dismissed from his post and charged with responsibility for the incident; he was absolved, however, in May 1922 and was promoted to brigadier. It appears likely the absolution was the work of Berenguer's enemies on the Supreme Military Council, including GeneralsDomingo Arraiz and Luis Aizpuru.

22. See, for example, España, July 17, 1919, p. 1.

23. According to Indalecio Prieto in El Liberal, Aug. 4, 1921, p. 1.

24. Silvestre to Berenguer, Aug. 17, 1919, in Berenguer, Campañas, 1:206-10.

25. Ibid., pp. 210-22.

26. Ibid., 2:38.

27. Berenguer, Campañas, 1921-1922, p. 4.

28. Berenguer to the Vizconde de Eza, June 4, 1920, in Berenguer, Campañas, 2:92-93.

29. Berenguer officially delegated his authority to Silvestre in a General Order of Sept. 4, 1920.

30. For the Moroccan budget of 1920-21, see DSC (1919), 13:6195, app. 1.

31. Berenguer, Campañas, 1:123.

32. Law of June 9, 1921, and R.D. of July 4, 1921.

33. See Joaquín Fanjul in DSC (Mar. 22, 1920), 10:5202, and Marcelino Domingo in ibid. (Mar. 24, 1920), 10:5314.

34. Compare the tone and contents of Berenguer's telegram to Lema onNov. I, 1920, in Campañas, 2:212; his letters to Eza on Nov. 5, 1920, and Feb. 4,1921, in ibid., pp. 212-14, 232-46; and his press interview in CM, Nov. 8, 1920,p. 1.

35. There is a list of all the materiel sent to Morocco between January 1919and July 1921 in Luis Marichalar y Monreal, vizconde de Eza, Mi responsabilidaden el desastre de Melilla como ministro de la Guerra, pp. 14-15.

36. The report is in Berenguer, Campañas, 2:99-108.

37. R.D. of Aug. 31, 1920, and R.O. of Sept. 4, 1920. Spanish volunteers (who comprised the majority) received 700 pesetas enlistment bonus; foreigners, 600. All received 4.50 pesetas a day in addition to food, lodging, and uniforms. Officers volunteering for service in the Tercio received an annual supplement of 1,500 pesetas.

38. For a description of the Tercio by its founder, see José Millán-AstrayTerreros, La Legión.

39. Report of Carlos Lamela, the head of the Bureau of Moroccan Affairs in the War Ministry, Aug. 27, 1920, in Eza, Mi responsabilidad, p. 96.

40. Berenguer to Eza, Feb. 4, 1921, in Campañas, 2:232-46.

41. See the correspondence between Gómez Jordana and Berenguer in ibid., 1:12-23, 192-93; 2:220-21.

42. R.D. of Sept. 13 and Oct. 5, 1920. Salaries were raised by 125 to 175 pesetas a month.

43. El Sol, Oct. 21, 1919, p. 1.

44. CM, Aug. 23, 1919, p, 1.

45. The article appeared a year later in Franco's book, Marruecos, pp.76-77.

46. "While the officer tells the soldier that he fights in Africa for civilization and progress, when officers die valiantly for an idea, there is an intellectua who believes that civilization and progress are in the other band, in the Riffians. And these are the same ones who incited the allies against Germany in the name of civilization, and today will push the Bolsheviks against the allies. The Germans, not the Riffians, are the savages; scientific and industrial progress always came from the Rif" (CM, Aug. 11, 1919, p. 1).

47. Silvestre's letter of Oct. 29 and his telegram of Nov. 15, 1920, are in Berenguer, Campañas, 2:248-51.

48. For a biography of Abd el-Krim, see David S. Woolman, Rebels in theRif, pp. 74-82; Rupert Furneaux, Abdel Krim; and Shannon E. Fleming, "Primo de Rivera and Abd-el Krim," pp. 57-65.

49. For Abd el-Krim's mining interests, see El Liberal, Oct. 27 and 30, 1921,pp. 1-2; El Debate, Oct. 29, 1921, p. 1.

50. Morales's report is in Berenguer, Campañas, 2:269-75.

51. CM, Apr. 9 and 12, 1921, p. 1.

52. See the testimony of Sr. Corbella, president of the Centro Hispano-Marroquí, before the Responsibilities Commission. Typed transcript in SHM-A, 4-1-11-24.

53. Julián Cortes Cavanillas, Confesiones y muerte de Alfonso XIII, pp. 64-65.

54. Berenguer, Campañas, 1921-1922, p. 242.

55. According to Manuel Ciges Aparicio, España bajo la dinastia de los Borbones, 1701-1931, p. 42

56. The number of books on Anual and the atmosphere in Melilla just prior to the disaster is seemingly endless. Contemporary accounts include the Expediente Picasso and the report of the Responsibilities Commission; Berenguer, Campañas, 1921-1922; Juan Guixé, El Rif en sombras; Eduardo Rubio Fernández, Melilla, al margen del desastre (mayo-agosto, 1921); Victor Ruíz Albeniz, España en el Rif and Ecce homo; Eduardo Ortega y Gasset, Annual. Recent studies include Stanley G. Payne, Politics and the Military in Modern Spain, especially pp. 159-72; Woolman, Rebels in the Rif; Jesús Pabón, Cambó, 2(1): 275-96; J. A. Chandler, "Spanish Policy toward North Morocco, 1908 to 1923"; and Shannon E. Fleming, "The Disaster at Annual."

57. Testimony of the son of Gabriel Morales before the Responsibilities Commission. Typed transcript, SHM-A, 4-1-11-24.

58. Letter from Morales's son in CM, July 26, 1921, p. 1.

59. Telegram in Berenguer, Campañas, 1921-1922, pp. 235-36.

60. Eza, Mi responsabilidad, p. 311; CM, June 6, 1921, p. 1.

61. On July 4 Morales wrote a friend in the peninsula about the growing danger of an attack. Francisco Hernández Mir, "El proceso de las responsabilidades," p. 24.

62. See their statements to the press in CM, July 1 and 4, 1921, p. 1.

63. For Silvestre's press interviews and official reports in July 1921, see Hernández Mir, "Responsabilidades," p. 24; Eza, Mi responsabilidad, p. 278; Berenguer, Campañas, 1921-1922, pp. 243-45.

64. The telegrams are in Berenguer, Campañas, 1921-1922, pp. 235-43, and Eza, Mi responsabilidad, pp. 445-53.

65. Congreso de los Diputados, Comisión de responsabilidades politícas, La Comisión de responsabilidades, pp. 81-82.

66. There are no conclusive estimates of the casualties, partly because the total number of troops in the sector prior to the disaster is uncertain. See the debate between the Vizconde de Eza and Indalecio Prieto in DSC (Oct. 25-27,1921), 8:3742-3832. Prieto placed the number of European casualties at 8,668;Eza, at 10,126. Other sources suggest total losses of 12,000 to 14,000 Spaniards. See Julio Repollés de Zayas, "Resumen de los sucesos acaecidos en la Comandancia General de Melilla entre los días 1 de junio y 9 de agostode 1921, y actuación del regimiento de Cazadores de Alcántara durante su desarrollo," p. 10; and Woolman, Rebels in the Rif, p. 96.

67. Ruíz Albéniz, España en el Rif, p. 228.

68. Ricardo de la Cierva y de Hoces, Historia de la guerra civil española, p. 73.

69. Gabriel Martinez de Aragon y Urbiztondo, Las juntas militares de defensa,p. 230. See the reports on the expeditionary forces in Berenguer, Campañas,1921-1922, pp. 249-51.

70. Juan Mariscal del Gante in CM, Aug. 12, 1921, p. 1.

71. Eza, Mi responsabilidad, pp. 295-96.