The Spanish Civil War has long been considered a dress rehearsal for World War Two, which it missed overlapping by only five months. But beyond terror bombing, most people don't know exactly what that means unless they're well-read on the war. "What that means" is the reason given for this book -- to focus on the experiences of several people who were involved in this rehearsal and how the things they did reverberated in the much larger cataclysm that's so much more famous.
When a faction of reactionary Spanish Army officers, in league with fascist political parties and the Catholic Church's Spanish hierarchy, staged a revolt against the popularly elected Socialist government in July 1936, most of Western Europe turned its collective back on the government. There was far more fellow-feeling for the Nationalists (as the rebels called themselves) among the largely rightist governments of Spain's neighbors and a general fear and loathing for leftists of whatever stripe, whether or not they had the backing of their populace. While Hitler's Germany and Mussolini's Italy poured troops and weapons into Francisco Franco's forces, the Republicans (as the outside world called the Spanish government forces) had to scrounge for basic supplies to keep its remaining loyal forces in the field. The only European nation that supported the Republicans in any significant way was Stalin's Soviet Union, which entered the conflict mostly for its own benefit (as did Germany and Italy) and eventually abandoned the cause in 1937.
Popular opinion in the West tended to side with the Republicans, especially as Franco's scorched-earth campaign reached its bloody stride. The concrete manifestation of this emotional support was the International Brigade, a loosely organized umbrella under which 60,000 men and women from around the world gathered to lend whatever aid they could to the cause. The primary characters in Hell and Good Company are drawn from this collection of romantic amateurs, opportunists, adventurers, true believers, and political activists who fought and died in their thousands for the losing side.
Because Guernica and Hemingway are about all most people now know about the Spanish Civil War, learning just how bloody an affair it was may come as a surprise: around half a million people died during thirty-two months of fighting, half of them civilians. (Another six figure's worth of the latter were killed after the Nationalists took over Spain and expended their surplus ammunition on their many internal enemies, real and imagined.) It's no wonder, then, that combat and emergency medicine became so important during the war and that this book pays so much attention to it. A number of American, Canadian, French, and Swiss doctors and nurses, freed from their hidebound medical establishments back home, made great strides in blood typing, mobile transfusion stations, triage, blood banking, wound care, and near-battlefield surgery. The author depicts these advancements, which saved countless hundreds of thousands of lives in WWII and beyond, as being seat-of-the-pants responses by overwhelmed medical volunteers trying to cope with the massive number of casualties each battle spun off. The details of operating mobile blood banks don't seem like the makings of great drama, but the author makes you feel it with his clear and confident prose.
WWI was the first war to be extensively documented in full motion. By the time the '30s rolled around, movie cameras were robust and portable enough that film crews could handily travel and shoot on the battlefield, and their film could be sent via cargo and passenger aircraft to far-flung audiences in record time. Likewise, foreign correspondents could now telegraph or phone their stories to home offices in New York or New Zealand at the end of the day and see their stories in print the next morning. Brand-name authors and artists were drawn by the scope and romance of the cause, using the written and visual arts to swing public opinion in ways not quite possible during the Great War. The author gives some attention to this, name-checking the usual suspects (Hemingway, Martha Gellhorn, John Dos Passos, George Orwell, and of course Picasso and Joan Miro) and the most familiar products (The Spanish Earth, Guernica, For Whom the Bell Tolls). Information warfare (as it eventually came to be known) entered its adolescence during WWI, but the Spanish Civil War became a training ground for the authors, reporters, filmmakers, and propagandists who in WWII would fully make the home front the fourth theater of war.
This is an interesting way of looking at a well-reported though oddly obscure conflict. However, the author's limited scope hobbles his thesis and knocks a couple stars off my rating. This isn't a story of battles and campaigns; the action rumbles on mostly in the background, providing something for our intrepid doctors and authors to do between drinks. This also means that we don't hear much about the advancements in tactics and weapons that the Spanish Civil War also enabled. This was where combined-arms warfare and close air support came fully of age, and where the rapid development of radios and radio direction finding began to revolutionize battlefield command and control and aerial navigation.
There's a reason for this general failing: Hell and Good Company doesn't feature the Spanish experience of the Spanish Civil War. The locals, when they appear at all, are extras in their own epic film. Also, the author never follows anyone on the Nationalist side, where most of the military experimentation was happening. Since the author's focus is entirely on the romantic International Brigade volunteers and there were hardly any true volunteers in Franco's forces (the Germans and Italians who fought in Spain were "voluntold" to go, as were the far-less-numerous Soviet pilots and technicians on the Republican side), we miss not only the half the conflict but also the other innovations that would bear bitter fruit in WWII.
Hell and Good Company is an engaging, well-written, blinkered, and incomplete telling of one small aspect of a war that would be so much more well-known had its big brother not stolen all its thunder soon after its end. If you go into this knowing its limitations, you'll be satisfied with what you get, but the dust jacket doesn't go out of its way to let you know what you're getting into. You may be better off reading a more comprehensive history of the war first so you know the big picture before you read this one. The dramatic detail from Guernica on this edition's front cover may be your best warning: this is just a small part of a huge story, though a compelling one.