The streets of Madrid were full of noise.
Boots on cobblestones.
Chanting.
Sirens.
Posters went up on stone walls faster than they could be torn down.
On May 10, Manuel Azaña was elected President of the Republic.
His face thin and intellectual now stared out from state bulletins like a man already condemned.
At the Ministry of the Interior, Prime Minister Santiago Casares Quiroga sat at his desk, forehead in his hand.
He stared at the latest report from Seville.
"Latifundia stormed in Badajoz. Peasant collectives claim land for UGT and CNT. Military governor requests permission to intervene."
Quiroga rubbed his temples.
"Permission denied," he muttered.
His aide hesitated. "Sir, the military is growing restless."
"Exactly why we don't provoke them," Quiroga said, rising. "We are not rebels. We are the state."
Behind him, a window rattled with the noise of chants.
"¡La tierra es para quien la trabaja!"
The land belongs to those who work it!
