From Tuxpan to the Sierra Maestra

BY RAISA PAGÉS - Granma International staff writer-

THE plan was to organize a landing on the eastern coast of Cuba. Fidel Castro knew that the Batista dictatorship would not fall through by civil action. The country's historical experience and his sense of leadership revealed that insurrection was the way. The Cuban leader had arrived in Mexico at the end of 1955, after enduring harsh prison conditions on the former Isle of Pines [now the Isle of Youth], in the south of the Cuban archipelago.

Fulgencio Batista needed to improve his image and, under pressure, granted an amnesty for political prisoners, thus allowing the release of the young people jailed for the assault on the Moncada and Bayamo Garrisons. They reached Mexico in small groups from various places to elude surveillance by the Batista dictatorship's military intelligence. Photos of that time provide us with images of young men in shabby suits, with homesick faces, hiding the pain in their hearts.

Three years earlier, in the assault on the Moncada and Céspedes garrisons, their comrades had been massacred, tortured and brutally murdered. Those who survived that first action did so miraculously.

Don Angel Castro was unable to embrace his son Fidel when he came out of prison, although he was able to be with Raul. He left this world thinking of his sons' destiny and the risks they were taking, but also proud that his offspring came from a rebel stock.

Fidel Castro's father died in Birán, a small town in present-day Holguín province, 42 days before the landing of the revolutionary expedition on December 2, 1956. It is said that Fidel received the news of his father's death on Mexico in stoic silence.

Far from becoming depressed in exile, Fidel worked feverishly to organize the armed action, selecting and training the men to be involved. In Cuba, Frank País and Celia Sánchez devoted themselves to weaving the intricate workings of the underground, collecting money for weapons and provisions and preparing the rearguard. They were to organize an uprising that would coincide with the revolutionaries' landing, to divert the attention of the Batista dictatorship from the coastal area and support the invasion.

In Mexico, the central home of the 26th of July Movement was the apartment of Maria Antonia, a Cuban émigré who was an essential figure in making their exile less difficult, more familiar and full of solidarity. Many other families took in the patriots, who were admired for their cause and their bravery.

The fold-up beds were distributed between the living room, dining room and bedroom of María Antonia's small house. As in all underground work, the groups were compartmentalized. Any violation of the rules established by the 26th of July Movement were penalized by being grounded. María Antonía's apartment door closed at 12:00 p.m. sharp.

Ernesto Guevara, an Argentine doctor who came to Mexico from Guatemala after the CIA coup against Jacobo Arbenz, met up with Ñico López at the protest demonstrations against U.S. intervention in that Central American country.

Guevara was introduced to Raúl, who facilitated the meeting with his brother Fidel. The conversation between the Argentine and the Cuban, one that lasted 10 hours and marked both men for the rest of their lives, would become historical.

"The Utopians' ship is acquiring new oars," wrote Mexican author Paco I.Taibo II, narrating how Che enlisted in the Cuban guerrilla movement in his book The Conquest of Hope ( Editorial Abril, 1996).

Fidel chose as the main instructor a colonel from the Spanish Republican Army, Alberto Bayo, who had lost an eye in combat there.

Fidel's was maintaining his promise: "With all responsibility, I can inform you that in 1956 we will either be free or martyrs," he had declared on his release from imprisonment on the Isle of Pines. His right hand man in organizing the armed insurrection was Juan Manuel Márquez. His body bore the marks of the torture and beatings he had received as part of the usual methods of Batista and his henchmen.

Márquez belonged to the political current of the Orthodox Party, as did Fidel, and he organized the 26th of July Movement networks in the United States.

CONSPIRACY FOILED

In September 1956 Fidel decided not to delay any longer in the purchase of the craft. Attempts on his life, planned by Batista's police, and many other problems were endangering the arrival on the Cuban coast.

The Batista dictatorship organized a conspiracy to assassinate Fidel in Mexico. The Federal Security Authorities there detained the revolutionary leader and took him to the chilly Miguel Schultz jail. Imprisoned together with Fidel were several men from the 26th of July Movement. A number of Cuban patriots were tortured in order to obtain the names of their Mexican contacts, especially the arms suppliers.

Raúl managed to escape the Mexican police raid, together with a small group. Juan Manuel Márquez, who was in the United States, joined Fidel's brother in instigating contacts with the former Mexican president Lázaro Cárdenas, who used his influence to get the young men out of jail.

After the failed attempt to remove Fidel from circulation, preparations had to be speeded up. Scant time and money conspired at the moment of selecting a suitable vessel.

Given the pressure, Fidel agreed to purchase a pleasure yacht from an American through Antonio "El Cuate" del Conde, owner of a Mexican gun store, and the future guerrillas' arms supplier.

Out of solidarity, El Cuate became one of the most faithful Mexican of the Cuban cause.

The Granma cabin cruiser was only 63 feet long and constructed for 25 people. Thus the engine power had to be increased to make the trip. The cruiser also showed the effects of a 1955 shipwreck caused by a cyclone. El Cuate took charge of repairing the boat and tuning up its engines, together with a group that made the final touches to give it a greater capacity and make it possible for it to hold a larger number of expeditionaries.

On the night selected to set sail, November 24-25, 1956, there was bad weather and light rain. The food provisions were 2,000 oranges, two sliced hams, 100 chocolate bars and four kilograms of bread.

They say that Fidel, covered by a large cape, supervised everything. He specified the details and forgot nothing essential. On the Tuxpan wharf, three inseparable friends said good-bye: Melba Hernández, who had accompanied them in the struggle since before the assault on the Moncada, El Cuate, and the efficient female Mexican collaborator Piedad Solís.

At 1:30 a.m. in the morning of November 25, the boat left the breakwater with its lights off. Mexico was behind them. The memory of those historic days in that country would be affectionate ones. Solidarity would block out betrayal. What stands out in the memory of the surviving revolutionaries are the exhausting, long marches; the tenacious will of Dr. Guevara, who tried to climb to the peak of the Popocatepetl volcano every week; the cold, and the nostalgia for their families and the warm land of Cuba.

Raúl Castro would remember the first hours aboard the Granma in his guerrilla diary: "...we set off full steam ahead; once we were out at sea, we sang two anthems. In a little while, due to the choppy waters, everyone was vomiting and feeling dizzy. The second night was the worst. Nobody was eating; they were recuperating little by little. Only one day and one night were calm. The food and water must be rationed. There were 82 on board... "

On Saturday afternoon, December 1, Raúl wrote: "¼ We could hear the Navy General Staff over the radio receiver and knew the positions of the ships."

Those days at sea in the Caribbean were recreated in a book by Juan Almeida, today a Major of the Revolution. "Then began the distribution of uniforms, cartridge belts, and lastly, boots. After changing, many of us threw the clothing and shoes we had been wearing into the ocean, and watched the sharks eagerly grabbing them... "

"The weather is beginning to change. As the yacht moves, it is sprayed by the foamy swell. I hold on so as not to fall into the ocean. First it creaks, then it lists from side to side; it stands up on end, goes back, shakes, sways, it seems as though it would split in two, and that the sea in its fury wants to swallow it up.

"We go north of the Grand Cayman [Islands]. A helicopter flies over, we take measures, but it's on a routine flight. The sea is growing rougher and rougher... Fidel, the captain and the helmsman check the map. The captain instructs one of us to try to detect the flash of the Cabo Cruz lighthouse. Someone else had already tried, but with such huge waves, it's difficult to see," Almeida recounts.

Roberto Roque offered to try to make out the lighthouse and then fell into the water at about 10:00 p.m. on December 1. "He climbed to the boat's roof and a sudden lurch threw him into the water. The search began in the dark and choppy sea. At the most critical moment, Fidel says that we're not leaving until we find him. Shouts follow, calling the comrade's name until he's found. Safe but soaked, without having recovered completely, Roque shouted, 'Long...live...a free...Cuba!' And everyone followed him, singing the National Anthem as well," Almeida writes.

The landing started at 6:30 a.m. Raúl Castro wrote in his diary: "I stayed until the last minute trying to get as many things off as possible. More than four hours almost nonstop, crossing through that hell¼ I found comrades along the way, practically fainting¼"

After seven hours of crossing, the 82 expeditionaries landed in Las Coloradas, a coastal region south of Oriente in the Niquero municipality of what is now Granma province. The water came up to their chests in that treacherous mangrove swamp. Mosquitoes and biting flies were all around. After passing through the swamp area, the undergrowth became sandy. Coconut palms seemed to offer the promise of firm ground. Luis Crespo, the troop's lookout, spotted the house of a campesino, who, upon finding out who they were, got ready to cook a pig for the hungry expeditionaries, but they were unable to sate their hunger. Explosions from the Batista dictatorship Coast Guard 106 could be heard.

Fidel gave orders to begin the march again. He instructed his troops that the goal was the mountainous Sierra Maestra range, where even if they became dispersed in the attempt to get there, they would reunite; it would become the theater of operations of the newly formed Rebel Army.

About that intense day of December 2, 1956, Raúl wrote in his campaign diary: "We advanced through a swamp full of brush, but with few trees. We had to throw ourselves on the ground every so often. That day we hadn't had a mouthful of food. We were going in circles, totally lost, until the directions of the first campesino helped us to orient ourselves somewhat. We all slept exhausted and without eating that night. That December 2 was immensely difficult."

Later would come the first hot meal since they left Tuxpan on November 25, 1956. In the home of campesino Zoilo Vega, they were given chicken broth, yucca and honeycomb. Water soothed their cracked lips.

On December 3, their second day on Cuban territory, the troop advanced slowly on account of the reconnaissance planes constantly flying over the area. Anxiety mounted; they get information that Batista's troops were mobilizing to encircle them.

They walked slowly until dawn, when they reached the southern edge of the Alegría de Pío sugarcane plantation bordering the mountain. There they made an ill-fated camp on the morning of December 5.

The small planes were flying continuously over the group of expeditionaries. Close by, the Batista army had established its command post in the sugarcane community of Alegría de Pío, northeast of Agua Fina. Reinforcements arrived in trucks. They discovered the revolutionaries' presence through an informant, they set off in pursuit.

NOBODY SURRENDERS HERE

The Rebel Army's first combat was devastating for the exhausted revolutionaries, who were in a disadvantageous position when they were surprised by Batista's soldiers.

The chief of the enemy forces ordered them to surrender, but from within the sparse sugarcane came the historic response: "Nobody surrenders here," exclaimed by Juan Almeida Bosque.

Che Guevara narrated the day's events: "Unusual signs began to appear at midday, when the Bibers and other small planes began to circle nearby. Some of the men in our group were calmly cutting sugarcane while the planes passed overhead without thinking about how visible they were given the low altitude and minimum speed of the enemy planes. My task at the time, as the troop's doctor, was to heal the sores on injured feet. I think I remember my last patient that day. The comrade's name was Humberto Lamotte, and it was his last day. I remember his tired and distressed figure, walking from the camp's sickbay towards his post, carrying the shoes he couldn't put on.

"Comrade Montané and I were reclining against a tree trunk, talking about our respective children; we were eating our meager rations - half a sausage and two crackers - when a shot rang out; a few seconds later, and a hurricane of bullets - or at least, that's how it seemed to our anguished spirits during that test of fire - rained down on the group of 82 men. My gun was not the best, I had deliberately asked for it because I was in deplorable physical shape after a long asthma attack during the maritime crossing, and I didn't want a good weapon to be lost in my possession. I don't know at what moment or how things happened; the memories are already fuzzy. I remember that, in the middle of the firing, Almeida - a captain at the time - came over to me to ask for orders, but there was nobody there to give them. I found out later that Fidel had tried in vain to group people together in a nearby cane patch, which could be reached by merely crossing the boundary-line path. The surprise of the attack had been too great, the bullets too abundant. Almeida took charge of his group again. At that moment, a comrade left a box of bullets almost at my feet; I showed him and the man answered, with an expression that I remember perfectly because of the anguish it reflected, something like "this is not the time for boxes of bullets," and immediately followed the plantation path (later he was killed by one of Batista's henchmen). It was perhaps the first time that the dilemma was posed for me between my dedication to medicine and my duty as a revolutionary soldier.

"In front of me was a knapsack of medicines and a box of bullets, they weighed too much to carry both; I took the box of bullets and left the knapsack behind to cross the clearing separating me from the cane. I remember perfectly how Faustino Pérez, kneeling in the path, fired his automatic pistol. Close by, a comrade named Arbentosa was walking toward the cane patch. A burst of gunfire, undistinguishable from the rest, hit both of us. I felt a heavy blow to the chest and a wound on my neck; I thought I was as good as dead. Arbentosa, with blood spewing from his nose, mouth and an enormous wound from a .45 bullet, yelled out something like "they killed me!" and began to fire crazily, since no one could be seen at that moment. I told Faustino, from the ground, "they messed me up" (but using a stronger word). In the middle of his task, Faustino threw me a look and told me that it was nothing, but in his eyes I could read how serious the wound was.

I remained lying down and fired a shot toward the mountain, following the same obscure impulse of the wounded man. I immediately began thinking about the best way to die at that moment, when all seemed lost. I remembered an old story of Jack London's where the hero, leaning against a tree trunk, readies himself to die with dignity after realizing that he is condemned to freeze to death in the frozen lands of Alaska. It's the only image that I remember... Almeida came up to me and encouraged me to keep going; in spite of the pain, I did, and we entered the cane patch. There I saw our great comrade Raúl Suarez, with his thumb destroyed by a bullet, and Faustino Pérez bandaging him up next to a tree; afterwards, everything was confused in the midst of the planes flying low, shooting bursts of machine-gun fire, sowing more confusion in the middle of scenes that were at times Dantesque and at times grotesque, like that of a corpulent comrade trying to hide himself behind a sticks of cane, and another asking for silence in the middle of the tremendous pandemonium of bullets, without knowing why he was doing so.

"A group formed led by Almeida, and in it were Ramiro Valdés - then a lieutenant, now a Comandante - and comrades Chao and Benítez; with Almeida leading, we crossed the last pathway in the cane patch to reach the mountain that was our salvation¼ We walked until night kept us from advancing, and decided to sleep all together, piled up close, attacked by mosquitoes and gripped by hunger and thirst. That was our baptism of fire, December 5, 1956, in the areas surrounding Niquero."

WE REACH THE SIERRA MAESTRA

In the initial dispersal, after the disastrous encounter at Alegría de Pío, the expeditionaries were split up into 28 groups. Thirteen combatants remained alone, among them Juan Manuel Márquez, the detachment's second chief, explains Cuban historian Pedro Alvarez Tabío.

Five of the groups were composed of only two combatants. Three groups - among them that of the Commander-in-Chief - were composed of three men. Another seven groups were composed of four or more combatants, including those of Raúl Castro and Juan Almeida, according to a reconstruction of events by Alvarez Tabío:

"The largest group was that led by José Smith, initially composed of 14 expeditionaries. Fidel withdrew from the field of combat with Universo Sánchez, and they were later joined by Faustino Pérez, who had lost his gun in the retreat. That night the three combatants penetrated dozens of meters into the mountain east of Alegría.

"Raúl, for his part, withdrew with Ciro Redondo, Efigenio Ameijeiras, René Rodríguez, Armando Rodríguez y César Gómez. They also spent that first night in the mountain southeast of Alegría, a few hundred meters from Fidel."

In the same mountain, but more directly to the south, Almeida hid out that night with Che, Ramiro Valdés, Reynaldo Benítez y Rafael Chao, according to Alvarez Tabío's account.

"On December 6, as they walked at midday through scrubby patches of sugar cane near three marabú bushes, Fidel and his group endured a ferocious aerial attack that nearly exterminated them.

"Six days later, on December 12, after grueling days in the cane patches near Alegría, Fidel and his companions made contact with the first campesino family. That same night, they arrived at the house of the brothers Rubén and Walterio Tejeda, part of a campesino network organized by Celia Sánchez - with outstanding participation by Guillermo García and Crescencio Pérez - to receive the landing.

"From there, supported and led by campesinos committed to the Movement, they advanced eastward, avoiding the enemy line of Niquero-Pilón, arriving at dawn on December 16 at the farm of Ramón Pérez Montano, known as Mongo, Crescencio's brother in Cinco Palmas.

"Raúl and his companions - less César Gómez, who separated from the group - had also begun the march from the mountain to the Sierra. They were helped along the way by various residents.

"Constantly walking alone, in the dawn of December 18 they arrived at the farm of Hermes Cardero in Purial de Vicana. That same night, underneath the young palm trees in Mongo's sugarcane patch, the two brothers embraced it other with emotion. A historical exchange followed:

"How many guns do you have?" Fidel asked Raúl.

"Five."