Posted on 07/14/2025 10:01:50 AM PDT by ebb tide
In the hushed, early morning hours, a small group of guerrilla fighters quietly set ablaze several small bridges north and south of the Colima railroad station, razing major access points in and out of the town strangled by criminal caudillos.
Celebrating the destruction, Colonel Marcos “Marquitos” Torres Virgen (1899-1928) led his Cristero soldiers, filled with bravado, as they galloped on horseback, tearing – uncontested – through the streets of the seized locale, nestled below the cinder cone of the Colima Volcano, on May 24, 1928.
Three days later, Torres and his men – all part of the Liberation Movement’s war contingent – continued to leave behind a trail of retribution, as they smashed two of the Mexican regime’s forces: one from San Jeronimo, the other from Colima. Even backup troops dispatched from the Chiapa Hacienda were defeated and forced to retreat, after an abortive attempt to rescue their humiliated comrades.
Enraged and exasperated, Laureano Cervantes Vazquez (1887-1979) – the recently elected governor of the Mexican state of Colima – sought revenge for having his regular soldiers in the standing army demoralized by undisciplined, untrained irregular fighters.
Fed up, Cervantes dispatched several men, who burst into the home of Rosalia Torres Virgen (1893-?), on the Feast of Corpus Christi, Thursday, June 7, 1928.
“Are you Marcos Torres’ sister?” one of them demanded of Rosalia, whose teenage daughter, Zenaida Llerenas Torres (1913-1928), stood next to her.
“Yes, I am Rosalia, the widow of Llerenas, here to serve God and you. What can I do for you? And why have you raided my house, shouting and pointing your rifles?”
“Nothing can be resolved with us. You’ll have to answer to the chief for some accusations against you. So, get going. And your daughter, too.”
Taken into custody and transported, the two devout Catholics were escorted into a jail ward filled with the dregs of society: violent felony offenders and low-level, petty criminals, such as prostitutes. Locked up in a narrow, cramped, dirty and dank cell, the two women comforted one another, but were soon separated.
Interrogations began the first night, when the illiterate, federal Brigadier General Heliodoro Charis Castro (1896-1964), head of military operations in the state of Colima, entered Rosalia’s cell.
“Where is your brother Marcos?”
“I don’t know, General. He must be wandering around the volcano with other Cristeros.”
Charis left, and when Rosalia realized that he had entered her daughter’s cell, she frantically began praying for God to help Zenaida through whatever might happen.
Throughout the questioning, the teenager refused to reveal any information.
Furious, Charis threatened, “Your pride lay in the fact that you’re a virgin. But if you persist in your silence, I’ll hand you over to these soldiers right now, so they can do whatever they want to you.”
“Yes! Yes, General! We’ll make her talk,” responded his men, with much laughter and derision.
She responded: “If you know how to punish, there’s your pistol. Take it out and shoot me, for I prefer death right now!”
Flummoxed by her response, Charis stormed out of her cell and ordered his men to back off. Nothing happened to her. He never touched her. However, he did give instructions to withhold food from her and her mother.
Incarcerated, threatened, humiliated, Zenaida had, so far, stayed true to the oath she recited upon joining the Feminine Brigades of Saint Joan of Arc, also known as Guerrilleras de Cristo, founded on June 21, 1927, at the Basilica of Our Lady of Zapopan, in the state of Jalisco.
At her initiation, she kneeled in front of a crucifix and recited:
Before God, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, before the Most Holy Virgin of Guadalupe, and before the honor of my homeland, I, Zenaida Llerenas Torres, swear, even if threatened with martyrdom, or promised all the kingdoms of the world, I will always keep absolute secrecy of the existence, activities, and, above all, the names of persons and locations of the faithful. With the grace of God, I would rather die first than be a traitor.
The Feminine Brigades was a secret military society of women – of all ages – who supported the Cristero War (1926-29), the battle for religious freedom, as well as personal freedom, in Mexico during a time of great persecution against Catholics by the Socialist, tyrannical regime, enthroned by Revolutionaries.
With the women’s focus mainly on supplying guns, ammunition, funds and food to soldiers in the field, they moved the supplies – usually hidden under their clothing – to the men in the mountains and in the forests via train, wagon or mule. Whether in mud or heat. By sun or moon. They also nursed the wounded, gathered intelligence, secretly taught catechism to children, handed out pamphlets about the Cristiada – the Cristero War – and petitioned the government.
Charis returned to Zenaida’s cell two days later, interrogated her about the whereabouts of her uncle and demanded information about other Cristeros. To push her even further, he cruelly tortured her mentally, causing great anguish.
“I already had your mother shot. Why don’t you answer the questions? What are you waiting for? Do you want me to kill you, too?”
“Why are you taking so long, General? Take me to where my mother is dead, and kill me there, too!”
“Well, you’ll see. Do you think we’re here to play with you?”
Charis’ men taunted her, laughed, cursed her and tied a rope around her neck, preparing to hang her.
“General, don’t hang me! Take out your pistol and shoot me!” she begged.
“No, because the ammunition is too expensive.”
“I will pay for the cartridge you use to kill me! Shoot at once, so I can be reunited with my mother, who you say is already dead. If you have any humanity, stop making me suffer and finish it once and for all!” Zenaida pleaded, sobbing.
Charis and the other soldiers left the distraught teen, but returned several times over the next few days. Each time, they repeated the same drama, tying a rope around her neck and threatening to hang her if she failed to share any valuable information.
But she revealed nothing.
Twelve days after their arrest, mother and daughter were reunited in a courtroom, thrust before a political tribunal. Unable to force the women to disclose any intelligence about the Cristeros, the judge sent them back to jail, where they were placed together in the same cell.
June melted into July, and they languished in their dank dungeon, as Torres continued to lead his men in skirmishes against the regime of Catholic killers. The New World religious persecutors were inspired by Marxist-Leninist Scientific Atheism, a marriage of the anti-Christian ideologies of two Old World atheists: Karl Marx (1818-83) and Vladimir Lenin (born Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov, 1870-1924). Marx, a so-called philosopher, and Lenin, a lawyer, never produced any tangible goods in their lives. Intellectuals, they produced only ideas, evil ideas that proved deadly to more than 100 million innocent victims.
On the battlefields, with rifle in hand, Torres considered himself as much a seminarian while fighting in the Cristiada as he was with breviary in hand while studying at the seminary. And during his time in the National Guard – the fighting faction of the Liberation Movement – just as he did during his priestly formation, he devoted time each day for mental prayer and an examination of conscience, in preparation for the future when he would celebrate the Holy Mass as the Alter Christus, in Persona Christi.
Since its inception, the Ecclesia Catholica, the Catholic Church, has breathed inspiration into Christians, lifting minds and wills to the spiritual realm. And through the centuries, the Barque of Peter the Apostle (born Shimon Bar Yonah, 1-64) has also helped the faithful rudder through the tumultuous waters of the temporal realm, even advising how to defend and protect lives from evil malefactors, as in a Justified War, confirmed in the Western Canon’s Greco-Roman-European tradition.
One of the first in Christendom to address the matter of just war was Aurelius Augustinus “Augustine of Hippo” Hipponensis, (354-430), who tackled the topic in “On the City of God Against the Pagans.”
He wrote:
They who have waged war in obedience to the divine command, or in conformity with His laws, have represented in their persons the public justice or the wisdom of government, and in this capacity have put to death wicked men; such persons have by no means violated the commandment, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’
For the faithful embroiled in the battle for religious and personal freedom in Mexico, the Cristiada was a Just War based on Just Law, established on Moral Law, forged on Eternal Law, especially after the anti-Christian, anti-clerical, Bolshevik-inspired persecution reached a critical point under the presidency of Plutarco Elias Calles (born Francisco Plutarco Elias Campuzano, 1877-1945), after he signed the Law Reforming the Penal Code into legislation, on June 14, 1926, igniting a savage and brutal war against Catholics, who defended themselves by fighting back.
In the first year of the Santa Lucha, the Holy Struggle, Torres joined the Cristero forces, as a low-ranking soldier. However, he soon revealed his valor and value, after he successfully fulfilled a daring and dangerous mission: He cut off the electricity supply to Colima, while General Joaquin Amaro Dominguez (1889-1952), the secretary of war and navy, visited the town, on June 18, 1927.
Soon after Torres’ impressive achievement, his superiors promoted him, on July 6, 1927, to the rank of colonel. He assumed the leadership position of the Pihuamo Sector and soon led his men in a victorious battle – on July 14, at the Chiapa Hacienda, near where he grew up – in which the enemy was routed. And in their desperate flight to escape death, they left behind prized possessions: invaluable horses and weapons of war.
Over the next year, Torres proved himself an important asset to the Cristeros, headquartered in the hills of the Transvolcanic Belt – below the Colima Volcano and Nevado de Colima, open vents in the earth’s crust about 15 miles north of the town of Colima.
With his sister and niece imprisoned, Torres and his men camped in the outskirts of Colima, from where he led several attacks on the town and elsewhere, including Tuxpan, Jalisco, where they set fire to a bridge and fatally shot several Callistas – adherents of Calles – aboard a train, on July 16, 1928. Over the next few weeks, they engaged in more bloody confrontations with their ideological foes: A tough battle near the town of San Jeronimo, on July 25. Heavy combat near Coquimatlan, on August 2. A skirmish in Huerta de las Haciendas, on August 4.
Around mid-August, Torres and his soldiers bivouacked about 5 miles from the town of Colima with the intention of returning to the region’s headquarters, situated in the hills of the volcano, to attend Mass on August 15, the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Afterward, they planned to pilgrimage to Sierra del Tigre, in Jalisco, to celebrate, on August 30, the silver episcopal anniversary of the Most Reverend Jose Amador Velasco y Pena (1856-1949), the elderly bishop of Colima.
But first, they needed to make a short stopover at the Santa Barbara Hacienda, about 3 miles north of Colima. A generous benefactor had promised to make a much-needed donation of 200 pesos to help the Cristero cause.
Wanting to get an early start, Torres – accompanied by his men – arrived at the hacienda at dawn, on August 14, 1928. However, the intermediary balked and refused to hand over the contribution. Instead, he requested that the colonel return later, alone, because the shy donor did not want the money to be given in front of all the soldiers.
Too trusting, Torres led his men to a distant part of the hacienda, which was on the way back to headquarters. He returned about an hour later with his assistant, Jose Plascencia, a young, pious man from Colima, who stood guard at the front entrance door, while Torres entered the building. Escorted into a side room, he was asked to sign a receipt for the money. Without a desk or table, he walked over to a wall, on which he pressed the piece of paper. With his back to the door, he started to write his signature.
“Now!” shouted the traitor.
Suddenly, soldiers from Villa de Alvarez – ordered by Colima Mayor Pedro Gudino – burst into the room, sprayed Torres in the back with bullets and gunned down Plascencia in the entryway.
The assassins dragged the bodies outside, threw them over the backs of a couple of mules and roped the dead Catholics securely onto the pack animals to keep the corpses from falling off. The morbid procession slowly made its way to Colima, where they unceremoniously dumped the fallen Cristeros onto the cobblestones in front of the Government Palace. The horrific display was intended to instill fear, a tactic perfected by the Soviet Bolsheviks: Terrorize the masses, to subjugate the masses. As a final, macabre touch, the Callistas hired a lively mariachi band to attract the attention of passersby.
That same day, as soon as the jail guards heard about the execution of Torres, they happily gloated and mocked Rosalia and Zenaida with the grisly news.
“Hey, old woman. Where is your Christ the King?”
“What good was protecting your brother, if General Charis’ soldiers have already taken him away? Ha! Ha! Ha!”
But, still, they refused to release the women from custody. Instead, they continued with threats and starvation rations. Slowly, Zenaida’s health began to fail. Finally, on November 23, weak and burning with fever, she could no longer leave her shabby pallet.
The only medicine available inside the jail was flaxseed, a traditional medicine, which one of the inmates shared with them. Rosalia asked for a match and with an old broom handle that she had scavenged, she built a small fire and boiled the flaxseed in a dirty can of dirty water to make an infusion.
But it was too late. That night, Zenaida vomited violently, and over the next few days her physical condition declined rapidly.
“Let’s pray, Daughter,” Rosalia gently encouraged, and they recited an Act of Contrition, a Spiritual Communion prayer, Hail Marys and an Act of Consecration to Christ the King, after which she reminded her daughter of the plenary indulgence granted to those who uttered, with a contrite heart, before death, “Viva Cristo Rey.”
In her final agony, Zenaida repeated, weakly, “Viva Cristo Rey…Viva Cristo Rey…Viva Cristo Rey.”
She remained conscious. She remained calm. But feeling overwhelmed by exhaustion, she reclined, on her back, fell asleep and never woke after breathing her last, at 3:30 in the morning, on November 28, 1928.
Zenaida was 14.
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Miscellanea and facts were pulled from the following:
“Los Cristeros Del Volcan De Colima Tomo II,” by Spectator, pen name of Father Enrique de Jesus Ochoa Santana.
“Madera de Heroes,” by Luis Alfonso Orozco.
“Mejico Cristero: Historia de la ACJM 1925 a 1931,” by Antonio Rius Facius.
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