A Young Diplomat, an Old Colonel, and a Collapsing Embassy

A man is arrested in the streets of Madrid during the Spanish Civil War in 1936. (AFP via Getty Images)

“The situation was such that the American flag was no use as a protection. Many of the fighters have never heard of the United States and don’t know what our flag looks like. I am able to be here to tell the story only because our cook had a Communist sweetheart,” said Ruby Beach, after narrowly escaping Barcelona during the early weeks of the Spanish Civil War.

By late July 1936, the bloodshed between the Leftist Republicans and the Rightist Nationalists flowed in profusion. Great Britain, Italy, and France, and every other country with diplomats and citizens still abroad in Spain worked feverishly to bring their people to safety. More than 30 rescue vessels huddled San Sebastian, a harbor city in northeast Spain near the border of France.

Photos of the Spanish Civil War. (Public Domain)

Washington had alerted the officers of the battleship Oklahoma to sail to the Bay of Biscay and rescue its citizens. By the end of the month, Secretary of State Cordell Hull stated that approximately 1,000 Americans had been safely evacuated, but there were about 500 who had yet to leave.

U.S. Ambassador Claude G. Bowers, who was one of those 500, was expected to be in San Sebastian. He was not, nor could he be contacted. Weeks before the civil war broke out in earnest on July 17, Bowers, along with his senior staff, had already left the capital city of Madrid for the harbor city.

Claude Bowers, U.S. ambassador to Spain and Chile. (Public Domain)

However, they did not leave the primary embassy due to concerns of social upheaval, but rather due to the climate. It was an annual custom for diplomats to escape the heat of central Spain and travel to what was called the “summer embassy” in San Sebastian. Though Bowers was not at the summer embassy, he was nearby at his summer villa in the port of Fuenterrabia, located directly on the Spanish-Franco border.

Wendelin and Fuqua

Facing the sweltering summer heat of Madrid and a country embroiled in violence, a young diplomat had been placed in charge of the U.S. Embassy. Third Secretary Eric C. Wendelin was the direct contact between the embassy and Washington. As the civil strife worsened, Wendelin worked to protect himself, his family, and any U.S. citizens seeking refuge. Luckily, at his side was the highly experienced (if not overly qualified) military attaché, Col. Stephen Fuqua. Fuqua had served in the Spanish-American War and World War I. In a city in chaos, Fuqua maintained order within the embassy.

U.S. Army Maj. Gen. Stephen O. Fuqua, 1929. (Public Domain)

As summer gave way to fall, Wendelin and Fuqua worked together to manage the situation as best as possible with Wendelin consistently keeping the State Department abreast. Numerous telegrams were exchanged almost daily between the Secretary of State and the Third Secretary. The telegrams are full of varying conversations from stays of execution and prisoner releases for U.S. citizens who had been captured to requests for supplies to be shipped as a “good will” effort (a request the State noted as “wholly impracticable”), to convincing Spain’s War Ministry to maintain embassy guards, to the Republic’s decision to move its capital from Madrid to Valencia.

The Embassy Hotel

As the days progressed and the violence worsened, more U.S. citizens poured into the embassy. For all intents and purposes, the embassy had become a hotel, and all those who stayed there were more employees than guests.

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“Considerable number of American nationals and families of Embassy employees are now in the Embassy and every effort is being made to bring all who wish to come,” Wendelin telegrammed in early November. “Estimated possibly 150 persons all told may seek refuge here. We have food for that number for about 3 weeks.”

Always seeking order, Fuqua administered responsibilities; regulated the hours for meal times, bedtimes, and visitations; and orchestrated activities to keep everyone occupied, a way of keeping chaos at bay. Mrs. Wendelin commandeered the embassy’s kitchen and assigned several to cooking duties. Wendelin and Fuqua had wisely kept all the jugs and bathtubs full in case the water was disconnected.

The embassy was hardly a fortress, and with firefights taking place in the streets of Madrid, the scores of Americans were vulnerable.

The U.S. Navy battleship USS Oklahoma (BB-37) at Gibraltar on Aug. 18, 1936, during the Spanish Civil War. (Public Domain)

“No danger is apprehended for Embassy at present except of course from possible misdirected artillery fire or aerial bombing,” Wendelin messaged Hull, indicating the rebels had announced a “safety zone.”

Hoping to Stay

Fortunately, the U.S. Embassy in Madrid was in the center of the “safety zone.” Bowers, who was now working from Saint-Jean-de-Luz, France, just a few miles east of Fuenterrabia, hoped the embassy would remain open and contended to Hull that Wendelin and Fuqua should “use their own judgment” to consider whether to evacuate Madrid. He was concerned, as was Hull and Wendelin, that evacuation “not only from Madrid but from Spain” might be viewed by the Republicans or the Nationalists as a politically motivated decision, especially if done in concert with the German and Italian embassies.

Bowers, however, was on the outside looking in and made it clear when he stated in his Nov. 21 telegram to Hull that he “understood sufficient food in the Embassy for a month and battle for Madrid should be over within that time.” The battle, known as the Siege of Madrid, would not end until March 28, 1939, practically the end of the civil war.

On Nov. 22, Wendelin informed the Secretary that the embassy had provisions for two weeks, but that there was “acute shortage of coal and wood in the city.” He added that “we should remain in Madrid a few days longer until outcome of expected rebel attack is more clearly seen. If it then appears that rebels cannot take city without long struggle and possible siege we could then evacuate before route to coast is cut off and before our food and fuel are exhausted.”

Secretary of State under Franklin Roosevelt Cordell Hull. Library of Congress. (Public Domain)

Wendelin noted that the embassy now housed 35 Americans, one Canadian, seven “Spanish wives and children of American nationals, 1 Italian wife, 14 Spanish guards, ... and 73 Spanish employees, servants and their wives and children,” adding that many had come “from areas now under fire and some have had their homes destroyed.” Wendelin reiterated several times in his telegram that he, the remaining staff, and the military attaché desired to remain.

Making the Call

As noble and courageous as those desires were, Hull believed differently, and probably correctly, given that the multi-week battle would extend into a multi-year siege. It was during this week in history, on Nov. 23, 1936, that Hull ordered Wendelin to evacuate to Valencia, effectively closing the U.S. Embassy in Madrid.

“In view of the dangerous military situation I have today instructed our Chargé d'Affaires in Madrid, Eric C. Wendelin, to evacuate,” Hull informed President Franklin Roosevelt. “He has been directed to make it clear to the Spanish authorities that in making this decision we have been actuated wholly by concern for the safety of our nationals and have not been influenced in any way whatsoever by political considerations.”

Wendelin obeyed the order and made arrangements with officials in Valencia to send vehicles for transport of “some 50 people and their baggage.” The timing of the evacuation was apparently well-timed as the “German and Italian Embassies were taken over yesterday by authorities,” Wendelin informed Hull. “Madrid press is full of hostile commentaries regarding this incident alleging that German and Italian Embassies were centers for rebel espionage activities and … contained considerable quantities of arms and ammunition.”

The American diplomats had prudently made it their “policy not to give asylum to Spaniards” in the Madrid embassy, and for this reason the local authorities agreed to keep guards at the gates of the building. While in Valencia, Wendelin informed Hull that 28 Americans, four Puerto Ricans, and 10 Filipinos remained at the embassy, along with the guards and Spanish employees and their families. Outside of the embassy, there were still 81 Americans in the city. Thanks to Wendelin’s efforts and strict policy, those in the embassy remained secure, while those Americans remaining without still had a place to go.

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