by Mitch Weiss
“Turn off your headlights,” Villoldo ordered the driver as the truck passed the gate. “Head toward the airstrip slowly.”
Villoldo scanned the landscape until he spotted a “natural depression” where they had buried the bodies of Che’s vanguard just a few weeks earlier.
“Stop,” Villoldo said. He climbed out of the truck.
The depression was about twenty-five feet from the runway. Right beside it was a new excavation. Villoldo stepped to the edge of the hole that was eighteen feet deep and about thirty feet wide.
He walked back to the truck. A light rain started to fall. He could feel the temperature dropping. Villoldo was glad he’d worn the sweater. The others were not so lucky. They shivered with cold and nerves.
“Back up to the edge,” Villoldo told the driver.
Then he ordered the soldier to get the bulldozer parked by the gate. When the soldier reached the tractor, the operator was already waiting inside. He started the engine and followed the soldier. It was time.
They tossed the bodies into the pit. The bulldozer covered them. Che’s Bolivian campaign was finished, buried in the wet darkness.
Rain pelted down. The field was becoming muddy. The three men decided to get out of there while the truck could still move, get this over with.
No one marked the grave.
CHAPTER 25
Aftermath
Che’s death was a moment of glory and triumph for the Bolivian high command. Barrientos emerged stronger than ever. To the public—especially the campesinos—he had taken decisive action and had rid the world of a Communist thug. Barrientos built on that, later saying, “Che died because he came to kill.”
The president offered no apologies. He accepted full responsibility for Che’s death, and issued a warning, too: “We will again crush any intent to subjugate our fatherland.”
When Ovando arrived in Vallegrande with his fellow commanders, journalists from all over the world besieged him. He did not comment about details, but proclaimed: “The guerrillas have been liquidated in Bolivia.” He conceded there were still members of Che’s guerrilla band on the loose, but they “will be destroyed in the next few hours.” Later that day, he released a statement touting the armed forces, proclaiming the campaign was nearly over:
“Well-organized positions in the rugged mountain ranges surrounded by thick jungle still continue firing on Bolivian troops, who will finally show the world that Bolivia is a sovereign nation, able to fight on its own for its development and its liberty.”
Commanders relayed the happy news to troops in the field. Mario Salazar, who had seen no action since being deployed, was a bit disappointed. He wanted to fight the guerrillas. That’s why he joined the army in the first place.
His chance came at sundown on October 14. Salazar spotted a campfire in the jungle, down along a Rio Grande tributary. Around it were four men, remnants of Che’s army.
Salazar immediately reported them to his commander. Second Lieutenant Guillermo Aguirre Palma elected to wait until dawn to move. With the first beams of morning, C Company troops surrounded the men and shot them dead.
While the Bolivian high command was praising the operation that killed Che, the world began questioning the narrative of how he had died. At first, the government said Che was wounded in a fierce battle outside La Higuera and died a short time later. In a public statement on October 9, Colonel Zenteno embellished the story. He said that after Che was wounded, he told the soldiers: “I am Che Guevara. I have failed.” Then he lapsed into a coma and died. Ovando repeated Zenteno’s story—including the quote.
A day later, though, Ovando said that Che had actually died at 1:30 P.M. on Oct. 9—nearly a day after the battle. To many, that was implausible. How could Che have lived so long with so many wounds? Zenteno quickly changed his story to support Ovando’s.
But journalists kept uncovering new details that contradicted official accounts.
One New York Times story said that Che was “executed by the army after the surrender.” Jose Martinez Caso, a doctor who’d examined Che’s body in Vallegrande, told journalists that soldiers at the scene told him Che was taken alive.
The government also made contradictory statements about Che’s remains. One statement said Che was buried in a “safe place.” Ovando later said the body had been cremated. And when Che’s brother, Roberto Guevara, visited Vallegrande to take the remains back to Argentina, he was not allowed to see the body. At first, Bolivian officials refused to meet with him. But even after talking with Ovando, Roberto left Bolivia with no answers, and no body.
There was still another concern.
Gruesome photographs showed up in Bolivian newspapers. Snapshots illustrated each step of Che’s Via Dolorosa. The first photos showed a ragged man in curious homemade shoes, alive in the La Higuera schoolhouse. Then followed a series of death photographs: in the schoolroom just after the execution, on the ground like a hunting trophy with gun-toting Bolivian soldiers grinning alongside, and finally displayed in a laundry room.
The entire episode frustrated and embarrassed U.S. officials. While Bolivia celebrated Che’s death, the White House was in the dark. Rodríguez had been there in La Higuera and had duly reported events as they unfolded. But communications broke down somewhere between the CIA, the State Department, and the White House.
Ambassador Henderson—who had prided himself on being in the loop—said he didn’t know Che had been captured until after his death was announced. He personally countermanded a proposal to send embassy observers with Ovando the following day, when Ovando visited Vallegrande. He wanted the United States to stay in the background.
On October 9, Walt Rostow, the president’s assistant for national security affairs, told Johnson in a memo that they had unconfirmed reports that Che was dead. But a day later, William Bowdler, the State Department’s executive liaison officer for Latin America, reported to Rostow that there was still uncertainty about whether Che had been killed—despite newspaper and radio accounts and nationwide celebrations. Incredibly, CIA director Richard Helms wrote a memo to Rostow on October 11 asking if he knew anything about Che’s death.
You are aware of the published accounts concerning the death of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara which were based in essence on the Bolivian Army press conference on 10 October attributing Guevara’s death to battle wounds sustained in the clash between the army and the guerrillas on 8 October 1967. Guevara was said to be in a coma when captured and to have died shortly thereafter, the heat of battle having prevented early or effective treatment by Bolivian soldiers.
On the same day, Rostow sent President Johnson a memorandum saying, “This morning we are about 99 percent sure that ‘Che’ Guevara is dead.” He said Che was taken alive and that General Ovando ordered him shot.
I regard this as stupid, but it is understandable from a Bolivian standpoint, given the problems which the sparing of the French communist and Castro courier Regis Debray has caused them.
Rostow continued that Che’s death carried “these significant implications”:
It marks the passing of another of the aggressive, romantic revolutionaries like Sukarno, Nkrumah, Ben Bella and reinforced this trend.
In the Latin American context, it will have a strong impact in discouraging would-be guerrillas.
It shows the soundness of our ‘preventative medicine’ assistance to countries facing incipient insurgency. It was the Bolivian Second Ranger Battalion, trained by our Green Berets June–September that cornered and got him.
Two days later, Rostow sent the president another note, saying new intelligence information “removes any doubt that ‘Che’ Guevara is dead.”
At SOUTHCOM, General Porter and his staff monitored developments. When they learned Che was dead, they expressed disappointed relief. They understood why the Bolivians had executed Che. SOUTHCOM had to be realistic. If he had been taken to Pana
ma for interrogation, it was highly unlikely that Che would have given up any information. He despised the United States. And if Che had lived, and been found in U.S. custody, imagine the worldwide protests. It would have added fuel to anti-American sentiment all over the globe. In the end, things turned out well. Che had to die.
The CIA and the intelligence community were raking in details about Che’s failed campaign. The information in his diary gave officials a window into his entire Bolivian operation. On October 18, a CIA cable to Washington highlighted the errors leading to Che’s defeat in Bolivia:
Che’s presence at the guerrilla front precluded all hope of saving him and others in the event of an ambush and virtually condemned them to die or exist uselessly as fugitives;
Che was dependent on the campesinos in the area for supplies and recruits; neither of them was forthcoming;
Che was overconfident about the support of the Bolivian Communist Party, which was inexperienced and divided in Pro-Soviet and Pro-Chinese factions.
The cable downplayed the role of the Bolivian military in Che’s failed campaign. Che’s defeat had more to do with his flawed leadership than any Bolivian military prowess.
In a memo to Secretary of State Dean Rusk, Thomas Hughes, director of the State Department’s Intelligence and Research Division, noted that Che’s death was a “crippling—perhaps fatal—blow to the Bolivian guerrilla movement and may prove a serious setback for Fidel Castro’s hopes to foment violent revolution in ‘all or almost all’ Latin American countries.” But he also included a warning about Bolivia’s future:
“Guevara’s death is a feather in the cap of Bolivian President Rene Barrientos. It may signal the end of the guerrilla movements as a threat to stability. If so, the Bolivian military, which is a major element of Barrientos’ support, will enjoy a sense of self-confidence and strength that it has long lacked. However, victory could also stir political ambitions among army officers who were directly involved in the anti-guerrilla campaign and who may now see themselves as the saviors of the republic.”
Cuba was notably silent. On October 18—nine days after Che’s death—Castro addressed his nation. Before hundreds of thousands of Cubans in Plaza de la Revolución, Castro eulogized Che. He told dozens of anecdotes about his old friend and praised Che’s lifelong struggle against imperialism.
He told the crowd there was proof that Che was “killed in cold blood.”
“He was always characterized by his daring and by his scorn for danger on numerous occasions,” Castro said. “Che’s death deals a heavy blow to the revolutionary movement, but the movement will go forward.”
He ended by warning that Che’s murderers would be disappointed when they realized that “the art to which he dedicated his life and intelligence cannot die.”
And so it was. As with his life, mystery and confusion surrounded Che’s death. It would take years for the full story to be revealed. It would take even longer to find his grave.
* * *
For Prado, the last few weeks had been a blur. The day after Che was killed, Barrientos and Ovando arrived separately to congratulate the troops. They made speeches and praised the soldiers, saying it was one of the proudest days in the nation’s history.
Prado was still disturbed by what had happened to Che. And he still had more work to do. The Rangers had to find the remaining handful of fugitive guerrillas.
With Che out of the picture, the country quickly lost interest in insurgent fighters. Life returned to normal.
Prado, the officer who’d captured Che, was a national hero. His superiors congratulated him and promised promotions. Prado didn’t like all the attention. He was just doing his job.
Prado went back to La Esperanza, where Shelton in turn embraced him, congratulated him, fed him, and regaled him with questions about the mission.
“I knew you’d do it,” Shelton said. “Gary, I’m proud of you.”
Prado knew it was a big success for Shelton, too—and that the major wished he could’ve been in El Churo Canyon and La Higuera.
But La Esperanza had its comforts. The schoolhouse was almost finished: four brand-new classrooms and an office for the teacher. Training for the more experienced Bolivian troops was going well. The village was quieter now with all the Rangers gone.
The plan was running on schedule. They’d all be out of there by Christmas, Shelton said.
And by this time next year, Shelton wouldn’t be “Major” anymore. He’d be “Mister.”
Maybe it would save his marriage. He was leaving on a high note. His team took 650 men and, in a short time, turned them into the fighting force that captured Che Guevara.
“It’s going to be tough leaving,” Shelton said, “but it’s time to go home.”
It was time for Prado to go, too. They took a few pictures and promised to stay in touch. “I wish you the best, Major, with everything you do,” Prado said.
“Igualmente, Gary,” Shelton replied.
After Prado left, Shelton picked up his guitar and strummed a few chords before heading to Kiosko Hugo. He felt like celebrating.
EPILOGUE
Gary Prado Salmon sits behind a desk in his Santa Cruz home and listens patiently to another question about Che Guevara. For more than four decades he’s been answering questions about the legendary revolutionary—usually today they are some version of the same questions asked by the last two generations of journalists. Prado was the Bolivian Army officer who captured Che.
When he’s not doing interviews, Prado tries to avoid the subject. Che was just one page in his career. He went on from there, he says, he accomplished lots of other things besides that—you don’t retire as an army general if you spend your career sitting still. But on this day, he opens up to two American journalists writing another book about Che Guevara.
“That was just a small part of my life,” Prado insists. “But if you must know, Che failed miserably in Bolivia. But sometimes it doesn’t seem that way.”
Indeed, in the years since his death, Che has become a mythical figure. His famously fierce beret-wearing image glowers from T-shirts, posters, coffee mugs, and key rings, merchandise bought and sold by consumers who have no idea who Che was or what he stood for.
Forty-plus years after his tawdry death in a Bolivian backwater, Che Guevara is a pop star.
Nowhere is that more evident than Bolivia, the last country he terrorized. The soldiers who extinguished Che’s rebellion are forgotten, and Bolivian souvenir vendors have taken up his myth. From the street markets in big cities like La Paz and Santa Cruz to snack bars in rural mountain villages, Che’s image is flogged on T-shirts and wallets. The great revolutionary has become a capitalist commodity.
Pilgrims traverse the Ruta del Che (the Che Guevara Route), making stops along the way at towns like Samaipata, Camiri, and of course La Higuera, where Che was killed.
In La Higuera, an enormous concrete bust of Che casts a shadow on the schoolhouse where he was executed. La Higuera has become a shrine for Che admirers.
In Vallegrande, the Che Guevara Museum takes pride of place on the village plaza. Here are housed photographs and historical memorabilia from Che’s Bolivia campaign, including graphic photos of his death. The hospital laundry room in Vallegrande, where Che’s body was washed and displayed, is another tourist attraction, its walls a sounding board for revolutionary wannabes whose weapons are spray paint and markers. “Che Lives” is scrawled on the walls in cities and the countryside.
Each October, on the anniversary of his death, thousands travel to Vallegrande to celebrate Che’s memory. Festivities include music and dancing, lectures and speeches, art exhibits and (of course) souvenirs.
Prado has no love for the long-dead guerrilla fighter, but his name is inextricably linked to Che’s. In newspaper stories, Prado is identified as “the man who captured legendary revolutionary Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara.”
Prado would rather talk about his family, his military career, or even Bolivian history. But the conversation inevitably returns to Che. Prado was one of the last people to talk to the man.
“There were so many questions I wanted to ask him,” he says.
So many questions remain, forty-five years later—many focus on what happened those two days in October 1967 when a wounded Che hobbled out of the jungle and into the shabby schoolhouse in La Higuera. What words did he say? How was he treated in La Higuera? Who ordered his execution?
Che Guevara is one of the twentieth century’s most fascinating and influential figures. Like the graffiti on all those Bolivian walls, his theories on revolution are faded but still legible. His how-to books on revolution and guerrilla operations are dated but still relevant. He is held in high esteem in many parts of the world, especially in Latin America. Strange as it might seem in a Western world overrun with capitalism, some people still believe that joining together in mutually beneficial collectives might overcome poverty and promote a more just society.
Che is more than a T-shirt icon. He is a polarizing figure. To the left, he is a romantic revolutionary—a rebel with a cause. To the right, Che is a Communist thug who would take away their hard-earned goods and give them away to society’s parasites.
When we decided to write about Che, we wanted to examine the role that Major Ralph “Pappy” Shelton’s Special Forces team played in the Bolivia campaign. Most books about Che’s Bolivia sojourn contain a few sentences about the Green Berets’ mission, but we wanted to know more. We have written extensively about the military, especially Special Forces. Coauthor Kevin Maurer was embedded with Green Beret units in Afghanistan and has written several books about Special Forces missions.