Pamplona, the 22nd of May, 1938. ‘You can leave, comrades, we’re free!’. The prisoner’s powerful voice carried across the prison courtyard. Joaquín immediately got up and shook Tomás, who was sitting beside him on the floor of the cell. ‘Let’s go, boy!’, he told him, tugging at his jersey and hauling him to his feet. They were members of the Second Brigade. Their cell was on the first floor of the fort at San Cristóbal. It was barely twenty metres square and deeply depressing, given that they were forced to spend practically all day every day within its walls. Someone opened the door and they stampeded down the stairs. They stayed close together as they crossed the yard, hidden within the crowd of prisoners following an anonymous voice shouting ‘To France! To France!,’ as they crossed the fort’s courtyard, making for the prison gate.