Our Woman in Havana

by Vicki Huddleston

  The Brothers had saved many lives. The balseros (rafters), as they were called, were habitually unprepared to cross the open sea. Too often they risked everything for the chance of starting a new life in the States. They would set off on a large inner tube, or lash planks together to form a makeshift raft, or make, borrow, or steal a boat. If the Brothers spotted them from their aircraft, they would likely survive. If not, their chances of making landfall were slim. The longer the balseros were at sea, the more desperate their plight. Few seemed to have had access to weather forecasts. Most were wise enough to avoid setting sail in the winter months when the Atlantic became colder and storms more frequent. They seldom set out with sufficient water, food, or gasoline (if the boat even had a motor); they rarely had life preservers, warm clothes, or protection from the wind and sun. All too frequently their boat would be caught in the North Atlantic Current and pulled away from the Florida coast and farther out to sea. Basulto told me that some migrants reached uninhabited atolls in the Bahamas where, if the Brothers didn’t find them, they would slowly die for lack of water and food. Others would be caught in squalls or major storms. The number of dead was unknown; neither Cuba nor the United States recorded those who didn’t make it. Migrants left Cuba clandestinely and US immigration recorded only migrants who reached our shores. Over a four-year period, the Brothers rescued forty-two hundred migrants; if one-fourth of that number lost their lives, that would be over a thousand souls, or about 250 annually. In the end, only Cuban and Cuban American families know the full extent of their losses.

  The fortunate ones would realize their dream of a new life in the States, and it was mostly a matter of luck. Perhaps their crafts were sounder, or the weather was good, or they were better prepared, but most of all they were lucky. Often family and friends in Florida who knew about the migrants’ plans would notify the Brothers and the US Coast Guard that loved ones had fled. With both the Brothers and the Coast Guard searching, they had a better chance of being located, especially if the informants could provide the time and place of their departure.

  Our aircraft followed the Florida Keys as they curved southwest toward Cuba. We descended, continuing southward until we were twenty or thirty miles off the Cuban coast, then began making wide clockwise circles. After about two hours flying low over dark and monotonous sea, Basulto shouted, “¡Mira! ¡Mira!” (Look! Look!). In the distance I could barely make out a small dot on the horizon. As our plane drew closer and circled, I saw a bare-chested young man on a raft. He waved jubilantly. Basulto tipped a wing to acknowledge him. It was an emotional moment. We were all excited—even Basulto and his copilot, both of whom had done this hundreds of times before. The man was in the middle of a choppy sea on a flimsy raft, and with no land in sight. Very possibly we would save his life.

  Basulto picked up the hand microphone and called the coast guard, providing the rafter’s coordinates. Soon the Coast Guard would be steaming toward him. We circled again, waved, and left, knowing that he’d likely be in Florida before nightfall. I was impressed and began straining my eyes to possibly catch a glimpse of another rafter.

  Suddenly the receiver squawked. A harsh voice demanded in Spanish that we identify our coordinates and ourselves. An ominous silence descended in the tiny cockpit. Basulto whispered, “It’s Cuban Air Control.”

  “Are we in Cuban airspace?” I asked.

  “No, no. But we must be very careful.” Basulto then answered the query, “This is Seagull One, Hermanos al Rescate [Brothers to the Rescue],” and gave our coordinates. We waited. Then, “Gracia, gracias. Está bien,” from the Cuban air controller. The tension lifted, and we could proceed with our search. Basulto said that we were perhaps within a mile or two of Cuban airspace, but not in jeopardy of slipping over the line.

  Still, it was clear that Basulto and his copilot were worried, even though we really were in international airspace. Perhaps, intent upon letting the rafter know that help was on the way, we had come closer then we intended. And I suspected that Basulto had not wanted me to know how close we’d come. Yet what remains with me to this day is the palpable fear in the cabin. Clearly, crossing into Cuban airspace—intentionally or not—was dangerous.

  Four years later, on February 24, 1996, Cuban MiGs shot down two of three Brothers’ aircraft that were flying above international waters. Basulto was flying one of the aircraft with Silvia Iriondo and her husband on board. They had briefly entered Cuban airspace, but quickly departed. I knew Silvia, a sensible and strong woman who certainly wouldn’t have been part of any illicit activity. Having turned back, all three aircraft were flying above international waters when a Cuban MiG screeched past Basulto’s aircraft. It fired and brought down one of the Brothers’ aircraft. Seven minutes later, as Basulto was searching for the downed plane, a second MiG destroyed the other aircraft. Recordings of the tragedy from US air traffic control indicate that the MiG’s pilots gave no warning prior to shooting down the unarmed planes. The pilots did ask for and obtained permission from their superiors to destroy the two Brothers’ aircraft. Castro later claimed that he had approved the shoot-down.

  With two MiGs on his tail, Basulto turned his aircraft north toward home. Flying low and weaving to avoid the MiGs, he and his passengers landed safely. The four men piloting the other two aircraft did not. They died in a senseless act of terror, motivated by animosity between the Cuban government and the Cuban diaspora in the United States. A more humane and prudent plan would have been for Castro to order the MiGs to escort the Brothers’ aircraft to Havana; once there, he would have had a major propaganda victory. But for unfathomable reasons, Castro seemingly ordered the planes shot down.

  I also found it strange that the Cubans who knew about the Brothers’ rescue mission would destroy their aircraft. But things had changed. The US State Department had sent me to Haiti and then to Madagascar. In the interim, thirty thousand Cubans had taken to the sea to escape the dire poverty brought about by the loss of Soviet subsidies, the embargo, and the policies of the Cuban government during the period Castro labeled the Special Period in Time of Peace. Hoping to reduce future undocumented migration from Cuba, President Bill Clinton announced that Cubans found at sea would be returned to Cuba; only those who made it to US soil would be allowed to remain. This new policy, which became known as Wet Foot–Dry Foot, meant that the migrants no longer wanted to be spotted by the Brothers or picked up by the coast guard. To realize their dream of living in Florida, they had to make it to US soil on their own. Unless in dire straits, the balseros sought to avoid the Coast Guard because if they were interdicted, they would be returned to Cuba.

  The Wet Foot–Dry Foot policy also meant that the Brothers’ mission was considerably diminished. No longer was Basulto simply spotting Cubans lost at sea and informing the US Coast Guard. He had on several occasions entered Cuban airspace; not just on the day of the shoot-down, but several times in the past. The Cubans accused him of dropping a smoke bomb, and on two occasions he had dropped leaflets over Havana that contained the words of the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Predictably, the Cuban government was furious and protested the Brothers’ incursions to the US State Department.

  I still find it incomprehensible that Castro would be so foolish as to commit an act that could possibly result in a war with the United States. Since the Missile Crisis, he had taken care not to give us any excuse for mounting a military strike or an invasion. He had terminated Cuba’s brief flirtation with drug trafficking with a public trial and the execution and incarceration of the accused. Since then, to my knowledge, Cuba has not trafficked in drugs or engaged in other criminal activity that might give the United States an excuse to use force against Cuban territory. The Cuban Border Guards cooperate with the US Coast Guard, passing on information about suspect aircraft and vessels using Cuban airspace and waterways. Castro also began returning some criminals who had fled US justice. I have long suspected that Castro didn’t give the order to shoot down the Brothers’ planes
, but had to take responsibility to show that he was fully in charge. The order might have come from Raúl Castro, who at the time was chief of the armed forces, or the head of the Cuban Air Force.

  The consequences of the midair shoot-down were severe for both countries. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright reflected the public’s distain for the Cuban MiG pilots. US air controllers had recorded the two MiG pilots praising each other; they mentioned having cojones (Spanish slang for “balls”—that is, testicles) when celebrating their victory. Albright announced that “Frankly, this is not cojones. This is cowardice,” Public outrage—especially among the Cuban diaspora—demanded more than words. Many believed Cuba had to be punished for its reckless and illegal actions. Clinton considered and rejected a military response, instead signing into law the Cuban Liberty and Democratic Solidarity Act, a legislative proposal crafted by Senator Jesse Helms (R-NC) and Representative Dan Burton (R-IN). Clinton did so even though the legislation contained language that dictated how and when an opening with Cuba could take place. It was designed to prevent any president—Clinton included—from engineering an opening with Cuba until both Fidel and Raúl Castro were no longer in power.

  CANF and the Cuban diaspora had for some time pushed for the punishing legislation. But until the tragedy, Clinton had successfully refused to consider it because it was so draconian. It removed the president’s discretion in conducting US foreign policy toward Cuba, replacing it with a law that codified the embargo and demanded that both Castros must be out of power before the United States could establish normal relations. Still, for some in the diaspora the punishment was insufficient. They regretted that they were prohibited from using arms—theirs or the US government’s—to destroy Fidel and Raúl Castro. Others in the diaspora took matters into their own hands.

  Cuban paramilitary groups like Acción Cubana, Alpha 66, and Comandos L have, since the revolution, attacked or planned to attack Cuban targets (initially with the backing of the US government—notably, in the Bay of Pigs invasion—and later on their own). In 1975 Rolando Otero—a former troop member in Brigade 2506, which carried out the CIA-organized Bay of Pigs invasion—bombed a police station, banks, and an airport in Miami. In 1976, exiles placed a bomb aboard Cubana Airlines flight 445 that killed seventy-three people, including the Cuban national fencing team; all the evidence indicated that Cuban exiles Orlando Bosch and Luis Posada Carriles were the perpetrators of the atrocity. Posada even admitted to the crime, but later recanted. Bosch, Posada, and their accomplices were tried in Venezuela; all were found guilty except Bosch, who was acquitted on a technicality. Before Bosch could be retried, he fled to Miami, where he was arrested and jailed. Cuban Americans demanded his release. Seeking to remain within US law and respond to CANF’s demands to free Bosch, the State Department sought to find a country that would accept him, but no government wanted anything to do with him. President George H. W. Bush interceded. Bosch was released from jail and granted residency in the United States. Bush’s actions were likely taken to enhance his son Jeb’s political career in Florida, which was based on his close relationships with prominent Cuban Americans, including CANF leaders and Representative Ileana Ros-Lehtinen (R-FL), who urged Bush to pardon Bosch. Attorney General Richard Thornburgh described Bosch as an “unrepentant terrorist.” Some years later Posada slipped into the United States and managed to avoided prosecution for the airline tragedy. Today he is a free man.

  Many in the Cuban diaspora considered these terrorist acts legitimate. CANF’s Jorge Mas Canosa was accused by his detractors of sponsoring violence against those in Florida who opposed his anti-Castro views as well as supporting attacks against Cuba. But no evidence was presented to validate these claims. Attacks against Cuba continued well into the 1990s, including firing on tourist hotels and tourists (1992, 1993, and 1997), firing at a Greek tanker (1993), killing a Cuba national in Cuba (1994), and an attempted assassination of Fidel Castro (1994–2000) led by Posada. Although the perpetrators were often known within the Cuban diaspora, few were arrested, tried, and convicted.

  When I was leading the Office of Cuban Affairs in 1992, I discovered that these paramilitary groups had a writ of immunity that extend to the highest levels of government. I told a reporter from the Sun Sentinel, a South Florida newspaper, that if US law enforcement encountered militants about to attack Cuba, we would inform the Cuban government. I was responding to an attack by militant Cuban exiles who had fired machine gun rounds on the Hotel Melia, located at Cuba’s Varadero Beach Resort. I hoped that my comments would discourage copycat attacks without getting me into too much trouble with CANF and Mas Canosa. Knowing that it would be unlikely, I had prudently avoided saying they would be arrested and tried for terrorism.

  The next day articles appeared in both the Sun Sentinel and the Miami Herald quoting an unidentified State Department official who denounced the attacks and claimed that they would be punished. CANF was furious. Jeb Bush complained to the White House, which in turn demanded that Bernie Aronson, head of the State Department’s Bureau of Western Hemisphere Affairs, punish the offending official. Although the Miami Herald—a larger and more important newspaper than the Sentinel—appeared to have embellished my remarks, I had no choice but to take responsibility for both articles. The gist of the message reflected in both papers was that the US government did not condone and would seek to prevent terrorist activities directed against Cuba.

  The Cuban American community was outraged. They felt betrayed. How could a US official claim that attacking Cuba was illegal when Castro was the United States’ enemy? Many in the diaspora considered it unacceptable, even immoral, to inform the Cuban government about terrorist acts because those involved in carrying them out might be killed or jailed. It didn’t matter that these acts were contrary to US law and could result in the deaths of innocent people.

  CANF wanted the culprit fired. Governor Bush complained to the White House about the callous American official who had dared to confront the militants, if only through the print media. Aronson demanded to know if I was the guilty party. I told him I was. His assistant, Bill Brownfield, called to warn me that the White House wanted me fired, and he advised me to keep out of sight for the next couple of weeks. I knew there wasn’t much Bernie could do to save me. Bernie was entirely focused on resolving the civil war raging in Central America, and he left Cuba issues to his principal assistant, Bob Gelbard, and me. Now I was in trouble, and Bob happened to be out of town.

  At home that evening, I imagined that I had lost my job. I didn’t even think about appealing to my Cuban American friends. Yet Tony Navarro, with whom I had worked to put TV Martí on the air, reached out. When he asked if I were the guilty party, I explained that I had given the Sentinel interview and assumed that the Herald had used it for its own article. Much to my surprise and delight, he told me not to worry. He would tell Mas Canosa that it was I—not some unknown State Department official—who had made the remark. Since Mas Canosa considered me a friend, he would stop the calls for my dismissal. With Mas Canosa on my side, the story faded from view in the Florida media. I was lucky: Tony and Mas Canosa stuck by me. But the militants now knew that they could act against Cuba with impunity.

  It took me several weeks to solve the mystery of the article in the Miami Herald. Mimi Whitfield, a Herald reporter, told me that my boss, Bob Gelbard, was responsible for the Herald interview. Bob was one of the State Department stars, clearly destined for leadership roles. He was also extremely outspoken and throughout his career would find himself in trouble over being too candid. Given Bob’s larger-than-life personality and the way he stood by his positions, I wonder what would have happened had he been there when the White House threatened to fire the guilty party. Some years later, when he was the American ambassador to Indonesia, Bob criticized the Indonesian government for failing to provide adequate security for the American embassy when Al-Qaida threatened to blow it up. Paul Wolfowitz, then the deputy secretary of defense, objected, and Bob wa
s fired. But when the stories broke in the Miami Herald, Bob was already in Latin America. He had stopped briefly in Miami for the interview and continued on his way. Since these were the days before cell phones, he didn’t learn about the furor until he returned a week later.

  I’ve often wondered what Bob would have done. Would he have forced the issue and convinced our government to take a stand against attacks on Cuba? Had he been in town, we might both have stood up to the criticism. But he was not, and I simply followed Bill’s advice to disappear into the corridors of the State Department. But this was the essence of the issue. No one, from presidents to bureaucrats, was willing to challenge the power and authority of CANF. And the terrorist acts by militant exiles continued.

  In 1997 Luis Posada Carriles, the alleged co-conspirator with Bosch in the downing of the Cubana Airlines jet, carried out a bombing of a Havana hotel that killed an Italian tourist. In 2000 a Panamanian court found he and his accomplices guilty of attempting to kill Castro while he was attending the Ibero-American Summit in Panama. But the Cuban diaspora managed to convince the president of Panama, Mireya Moscoso, to pardon the perpetrators just before she left office. Although Posada told Ann Louise Bardach, who was writing a story for the New York Times, that he was the perpetrator behind the Cubana Airlines downing and the bombing that killed the Italian tourist in Havana, his lawyers successfully argued in a Texas court that he should not be tried for any crime other than illegal entry. Although the US Justice Department described him as “an admitted mastermind of terrorist plots and attacks,” today Posada remains a free man living in Miami.