endía had reasons that were still very confused and were against that determination。 When he saw Mr。 Brown in the first automobile to reach Macondo—an orange convertible with a horn that frightened dogs with its bark—the old soldier grew indignant with the servile excitement of the people and he realized that something had changed in the makeup of the men since the days when they would leave their wives and children and toss a shotgun on their shoulders to go off to war。 The local authorities； after the armistice of Neerlandia； were mayors without initiative； decorative judges picked from among the peaceful and tired Conservatives of Macondo。 “This is a regime of wretches；？Colonel Aureliano Buendía would ment when he saw the barefoot policemen armed with wooden clubs pass。 “We fought all those wars and all of it just so that we didn’t have to paint our houses blue。？When the banana pany arrived； however； the local functionaries were replaced by dictatorial foreigners whom Mr。 Brown brought to live in the electrified chicken yard so that they could enjoy； as he explained it； the dignity that their status warranted and so that they would not suffer from the heat and the mosquitoes and the countless disforts and privations of the town。 The old policemen were replaced by hired assassins with machetes。 Shut up in his workshop； Colonel Aureliano Buendía thought about those changes and for the first time in his quiet years of solitude he was tormented by the definite certainty that it had been a mistake not to have continued the war to its final conclusion。 During that time a brother of the forgotten Colonel Magnífico Visbal was taking his seven…year…old grandson to get a soft drink at one of the pushcarts on the square and because the child accidentally bumped into a corporal of police and spilled the drink on his uniform； the barbarian cut him to pieces with his machete； and with one stroke he cut off the head of the grandfather as he tried to stop him。 The whole town saw the decapitated man pass by as a group of men carried him to his house； with a woman dragging the head along by its hair； and the bloody sack with the pieces of the child。
For Colonel Aureliano Buendía it meant the limits of atonement。 He suddenly found himself suffering from the same indignation that he had felt in his youth over the body of the woman who had been beaten to death because she had been bitten by a rabid dog。 He looked at the groups of bystanders in front of the house and with his old stentorian voice； restored by a deep disgust with himself； he unloaded upon them the burden of hate that he could no longer bear in his heart。
“One of these days；？he shouted； I’m going to arm my boys so we can get rid of these shitty gringos！？
During the course of that week； at different places along the coast； his seventeen sons were hunted down like rabbits by invisible criminals who aimed at the center of their crosses of ash。 Aureliano Triste was leaving the house with his mother at seven in the evening when a rifle shot came out of the darkness and perforated his forehead。 Aureliano Centeno was found in the hammock that he was accustomed to hang up in the factory with an icepick between his eyebrows driven in up to the handle。 Aureliano Serrador had left his girl friend at her parents？house after having taken her to the movies and was returning through the well…lighted Street of the Turks when someone in the crowd who was never identified fired a revolver shot which knocked him over into a caldron of boiling lard。 A few minutes later someone knocked at the door of the room where Aureliano Arcaya was shut up with a woman and shouted to him： “Hurry up； they’re killing your brothers。？The woman who was with him said later that Aureliano Arcaya jumped out of bed and opened the door and was greeted with the discharge of a Mauser that split his head open。 On that night of death； while the house was preparing to hold a wake for the four corpses； Fernanda ran through the town like a madwoman looking for Aureliano Segundo； whom Petra Cotes had locked up in a closet； thinking that the order of extermination included all who bore the colonel’s name。 She would not let him out until the fourth day； when the telegrams received from different places along the coast made it clear that the fury of the invisible enemy was directed only at the brothers marked with the crosses of ash。 Amaranta fetched the ledger where she had written down the facts about her nephews and as the telegrams arrived she drew lines through the names until only that of the eldest remained。 They remembered him very well because of the contrast between his dark skin and his green eyes。 His name was Aureliano Amador and he was a carpenter； living in a village hidden in the foothills。 After waiting two weeks for the telegram telling of his death； Aureliano Segundo sent a messenger to him in order to warn him； thinking that he might not know about the threat that hung over him。 The emissary returned with the news that Aureliano Amador was safe。 The night of the extermination two men had gone to get him at his house and had shot at him with their revolvers but they had missed the cross of ashes。 Aureliano Amador had been able to leap over the wall of the courtyard and was lost in the labyrinth of the mountains； which he knew like the back of his hand thanks to the friendship he maintained with the Indians； from whom he bought wood。 Nothing more was heard of him。
Those were dark days for Colonel Aureliano Buendía。 The president of the republic sent him a telegram of condolence in which he promised an exhaustive investigation and paid homage to the dead men。 At his mand； the mayor appeared at the services with four funeral wreaths； which he tried to place on the coffins； but the colonel ordered him into the street。 After the burial he drew up and personally submitted to the president of the republic a violent telegram； which the telegrapher refused to send。 Then he enriched it with terms of singular aggressiveness； put it in an envelope； and mailed it。 As had happened with the death of his wife； as had happened to him so many times during the war with the deaths of his best friends； he did not have a feeling of sorrow but a blind and directionless rage； a broad feeling of impotence。 He even accused Father Antonio Isabel of plicity for having marked his sons with indelible ashes so that they…could be identified by their enemies。 The decrepit priest； who could no longer string ideas together and who was beginning to startle his parishioners with the wild interpretations he gave from the pulpit； appeared one afternoon at the house with the goblet in which he had prepared the ashes that Wednesday and he tried to anoint the whole family with them to show that they could be washed off with water。 But the horror of the misfortune had penetrated so deeply that not even Fernanda would let him experiment on her and never again was a Buendía seen to kneel at the altar rail on Ash Wednesday。
Colonel Aureliano Buendía did not recover his calm for a long time。 He abandoned the manufacture of little fishes； ate with great difficulty； and wandered all through the house as if walking in his sleep； dr