Also words like Brigades, Divisions, Army Corps confused him.
First there had been columns, then there were regiments, then there were brigades.
Now there were brigades and divisions, both.
He did not understand.
A place was a place.
"Take it slowly, old one," Robert Jordan said.
He knew that if he could not make Anselmo understand he could never explain it clearly to Andres either.
"The Estado Mayor of the Division is a place the General will have picked to set up his organization to command.
He commands a division, which is two brigades.
I do not know where it is because I was not there when it was picked.
It will probably be a cave or dugout, a refuge, and wires will run to it.
Andres must ask for the General and for the Estado Mayor of the Division.
He must give this to the General or to the Chief of his Estado Mayor or to another whose name I will write.
One of them will surely be there even if the others are out inspecting the preparations for the attack.
Do you understand now?"
"Yes."
"Then get Andres and I will write it now and seal it with this seal."
He showed him the small, round, wooden-backed rubber stamp with the seal of the S. I. M. and the round, tin-covered inking pad no bigger than a fifty-cent piece he carried in his pocket.
"That seal they will honor.
Get Andres now and I will explain to him.
He must go quickly but first he must understand."
"He will understand if I do.
But you must make it very clear.
This of staffs and divisions is a mystery to me.
Always have I gone to such things as definite places such as a house.
In Navacerrada it is in the old hotel where the place of command is.
In Guadarrama it is in a house with a garden."
"With this General," Robert Jordan said, "it will be some place very close to the lines.
It will be underground to protect from the planes.
Andres will find it easily by asking, if he knows what to ask for.
He will only need to show what I have written.
But fetch him now for this should get there quickly."
Anselmo went out, ducking under the hanging blanket.
Robert Jordan commenced writing in his notebook.
"Listen, _Ingles_," Pablo said, still looking at the wine bowl.
"I am writing," Robert Jordan said without looking up.
"Listen, _Ingles_," Pablo spoke directly to the wine bowl.
"There is no need to be disheartened in this.
Without Sordo we have plenty of people to take the posts and blow thy bridge."
"Good," Robert Jordan said without stopping writing.
"Plenty," Pablo said.
"I have admired thy judgment much today, _Ingles_," Pablo told the wine bowl.
"I think thou hast much _picardia_.
That thou art smarter than I am.
I have confidence in thee."
Concentrating on his report to Golz, trying to put it in the fewest words and still make it absolutely convincing, trying to put it so the attack would be cancelled, absolutely, yet convince them he wasn't trying to have it called off because of any fears he might have about the danger of his own mission, but wished only to put them in possession of all the facts, Robert Jordan was hardly half listening.
"_Ingles_," Pablo said.
"I am writing," Robert Jordan told him without looking up.
I probably should send two copies, he thought.
But if I do we will not have enough people to blow it if I have to blow it.