IN THE FALL of 1951, as the Cold War stepped up and the Truman Doctrine thawed U.S. relations with Spain, the Pentagon thought it wise to send a major-general to the Iberian peninsula on an indefinite fact-finding mission. Before the small data-gathering entourage got underway, all of the armed services decided to get in on the act, and when Generalissimo Franco saw that about 100 American military men had come to Spain he thought they had come to sign a defense treaty. The information gathered by this Pentagon milk-run was never made public, and while a lot of high officials probably got an all-expenses-paid six-week vacation on the Mediterannean, a good number must have been seriously interested in Spain's military importance. At the time, Spain was the only European country in which the allies could set up bases impervious to Soviet air attack and could launch a counter-attack to a "red advance" on the continent.

The entire history of the United States' post-World War II relations with Spain can be summed up in this little junket to Madrid: U.S. interests in Spain have always been tactical and utilitarian.

As early as 1949, after the U.S. had excluded Spain from NATO and the Marshall Plan and voted against its acceptance into the U.N., redbaiting cold warriors had begun to show support for Franco. One Congressional representative, James J. Murphy (D-N.Y.), even called E1 Caudillo a "lovely and lovable character." President Truman had a different assessment of Franco's personality. He was reported as saying to the admiral he sent to deal with the Spanish government, "I don't like Franco and I never will, but I won't let my personal feelings override the convictions of you military men."

Truman's stance on the 1953 Madrid Pact--the first executive agreement with Spain--at least in the context of early Cold War politics and the limited capabilities of Soviet bombers seems understandable if not justifiable. But even after the Soviets' development of long-range missiles made the idea of an untouchable Spanish base obsolete, the U.S. continued and increased aid to Spain in spite of Franco.

Through the years, the wording of U.S. agreements with Spain has always been careful in both the actual texts and in the White House's analysis of what they meant. The original pact was proposed to "strengthen the capabilities of the West for the maintenance of international peace and security." President Eisenhower in 1959 spoke of Spain joining the U.S. to achieve a world "free from agression, from hunger and disease, and also from war and the threat of war." Last June, when Ford visited Spain he granted, on behalf of the United States, "recognition of Spain's significance as a friend and partner." Peace and physical security are the only two higher principles mentioned in these official pronouncements.

Somewhere along the line, the defense department's eagerness to "defend the West" and the willingness of successive administrations to adopt Pentagon policies left one essential question unanswered: What exactly about the West was the United States defending? During Eisenhower's visit, the former president could hardly have agreed with the last remaining vestige of fascism in Europe when Franco spoke of their mutual "defense of peace and liberty."

Eisenhower, and even Ford, realized that maintaining liberty was never exactly Franco's forte. Yet maintaining freedom and democracy in the West--by strengthening the southwestern flank of NATO--seemed to justify support for Franco's repressive regime over the past 22 years. And this support cannot be underestimated. At crucial points in the development of Spain's economy, times when in other countries the conditions would have led to a revolutionary situation, the U.S. stepped in to boost Spain's economy.

WHILE FRANCO'S SPAIN has been well rewarded for its staunch anti-Communist stand, more complex U.S. foreign policy considerations have recently come into play. Now that Portugal has shifted to the left, Spain is an important shuttle stopover for troops that might be sent to the Middle East, and it probably plays some role in Kissinger's overall Mid-East plans.

Last Spring, when Kissinger urged Ford to visit Franco and to press for Spain's acceptance into NATO at Brussels, the theory ran that Kissinger felt that making an immediate long-term military agreement with Franco would be more favorable for the U.S. than negotiating one with a new government. But when Kissinger initialed a framework agreement for military bases in Spain early in October he indicated that he wanted the Senate to confirm it--at least in resolution form. This seems to be a delay tactic; Kissinger probably wants to wait until after the shift of power. And sizing up the nature of this shift seems to have been the reason for Ford's visit to Madrid, where he reportedly spent more time with Prince Juan Carlos than with El Caudillo.

Negotiating the pact slowly, during the transition, gives Kissinger two options. If Prince Juan Carlos should prove too weak to stave off inclusion of the left in a coalition, then the U.S. won't be in the "embarrassing" position of having signed a pact giving a left-of-center Spanish government $750 million in military aid and $250 million in economic assistance. And, less likely (but all the more interesting), Kissinger just might wait for a better treaty with a "stable" military junta in Spain.

This article is the last in a four part series on Spain.