FOREWORD

We write this on the eve of the great Western Front offensive. It is the story of an anti-fascist fighter—our "Mendy." He is part of the offensive that recrossed Spain's River Ebro in July of 1938.

This is a memento of our Wilfred Mendelson. He came from our city. In the schools of this city he studied and led students. On our street crossings he spoke to thousands. In the hills along the Hudson River he was a counselor of children. He waited on tables, washed floors, and sold shoes in its department stores. He defied a tyrannical college president, wrote hundreds of leaflets, edited our student papers, taught in our workers' classes and schools. From his pen came study outlines and articles for understanding the world.

Then he left us, when the world was drifting to war. He left us to go to the front. At that time it was in Spain. This was the act of a volunteer. He did not come back. On the shores of the Ebro they buried him, fresh from action in that July offensive.

We want you to know him as we knew him; to admire and love him, to be inspired by him.

To you we write it. You—the soldier of 1942—first man of our land. You, the fighters, who number legions to carry forward where few held the breach before. For each of the men who went to Spain thousands stand in arms today.

To you we write it. You in the Sea-Side, Avenue U, Highway, and Flatbush communities of Brooklyn who knew "Mendy" when you met him, or heard his voice rising up the street, or read his leaflet handed in at your door, or met him canvassing, or felt the wisdom and courage of this Communist Party and Young Communist League member. You, his neighbors who man the air raid and civilian service posts and work in victory production plants.

To you we write. To the students, the men and women of City College—where once did persecution, vilification and expulsion meet the anti-fascist. More than ivy grows on those walls. One of the City generations that knew Mendy wrote to us "though it may sound sentimental I recently had the occasion to be in City College and the halls were filled with Mendelson." He is part of its great tradition.

To you we write it—to you who loved him best of all and know that now he belongs to all of us—and all share the pride and the task,

This is not a political tract save that Wilfred's life was one. It's a story of a young student, a young worker, a young Communist. This life is part of a larger history, this life is a brick in.the wall. Forgive us the little stories and anecdotes—this is the way we remember him. The true wealth of this memento vou will find in Mendy's letters from Spain.

None of us are professional writers. We are men and women from many states, on many jobs. Today we are doing our all to win the war that Mendy said he was "getting into a little earlier." We are all working for the final offensive against Hitlerism, for the victory of the United Nations.

Thanks are due to more than we can list. They searched their minds and their hearts to tell us what we have pieced together. Now we present it.

Brooklyn, New York.