by Aleida March
This is how, on the afternoon of December 30, the famous armored train was derailed and fell into our hands.
Just after we succeeded in damaging the railroad tracks, Che and I entered Santa Clara, accompanied by Guile (Ramón Pardo Guerra), Harry Villegas and José Argudín. We walked down Independence, the main street. Before we reached Maceo Street we met a young Chinese photographer, who had his camera with him, and thanks to him that moment was preserved for posterity.
We continued walking and a few blocks from the park we heard a tank shooting in the distance. Despite the danger, Che crossed the road in front of an armored car and his beret flew off his head. Argudín had gone down another street toward the park. Seeing the armored car, I froze on the spot. I realized we were close to my house, but it took some seconds for me to snap out of it. I crossed the road to Che, thinking I should not leave him alone since I knew he didn’t know his way around my town. I was shocked to see Che return to pick up his beret. To our surprise the armored car retreated, maybe suspecting an ambush. We continued together with no further incidents. Sometime later, in one of our rare private moments, Che confessed that when he had seen me in such danger, he realized how much I meant to him. Of course, that was hardly the ideal moment for such a confession.
After walking quite a way, we decided to go to the Church of St. Carmen to review the situation. The church was across the street from the police station, where some compañeros were posted. We headed to where the armored train had been derailed. We crossed the bridge and Che started to issue orders, directing operations. Once the train had been captured he asked Núñez Jiménez and Alberto Castellanos to take Batista’s soldiers to Caibarién to transfer them to the frigate there.
Che always treated the prisoners with absolute respect, according to the norms of the Rebel Army, despite the fact that many of those on the train were members of Colonel Sánchez Mosquera’s bloodthirsty unit, responsible for the murder of a large number of campesinos in the Sierra Maestra.
The fighting continued as we returned to the command post. The next day, December 30, was an ill-fated day. We headed out again on the Maleza highway to go around the train station from where we could reach the police headquarters. Che realized snipers were shooting close to his feet. No one was following him. In a fraction of a second I had rushed to him, as did Fernández Mell. We skirted the old teacher’s college, turning into a street where Vaquerito ordered us to hide between some houses and to keep out of the way of our combatants, who were advancing towards the snipers. Vaquerito ducked across from the station into a gap between the buildings, but he was mortally wounded. With his long hair dripping blood, he was carried by four compañeros. I remember so clearly how paralyzed we were at the sight. Che examined him and told Oscarito to take him straight to the clinic. I asked Che if he was dying because the poor young man was having convulsions. He responded sadly, yes. When Che saw Vaquerito so badly wounded, he apparently remarked that his death was equal to that of 100 men. I didn’t hear him say this, but that was certainly how we all felt. Everyone regarded him as an exemplary fighter, one who had risked his life many times but who wouldn’t live to see the triumph now so close.
Che and I returned to where Vaquerito had been killed. He looked around and gave precise orders in the hope of blocking any further action from the enemy. Acevedo attacked the prison and the court house; Alberto Fernández and Alfonso Zayas fought from the cinema Cloris located near the Gran Hotel, where we knew there were enemy forces. Within a few days (December 29–31), with lightning attacks, we derailed the armored train, and took over the provincial government building, the Caballitos barracks of the motorized police, the barracks of the 31st Squadron, the prison and the police station. But we had yet to defeat the enemy troops resisting from the court house, the Gran Hotel and the Leoncio Vidal Regiment’s barracks.
Between December 31 and January 1 we attacked the Gran Hotel where I was terrified Che would be wounded. Everything happened so quickly. We rode in tanks we had seized from the police station and we headed to the center of the town where soldiers of the SIM were. We positioned ourselves between the hotel and the park. I had never been inside a tank before and I felt like I was suffocating.
Che got out of the tank and looked around. As he went up the stairs of the Gran Hotel, he realized that there was a grenade on one of the steps. He searched for another way out and somehow managed to reach a tower on the third floor. Meanwhile Villegas and I were sitting in the cinema, waiting for orders from Che. I’m terribly ashamed to say this but, in the darkness of the cinema, for a few minutes we both fell asleep. We fell asleep! Che found us after the enemy had surrendered. The prisoners were locked up in the basement of our command post, and we followed Che, not daring to say a word.
There were many ghastly, hellish incidents in these final moments of the battle of Santa Clara. When Acevedo was attacking the court house he was horrified to see enemy tanks run over one of their own soldiers, who had fallen in combat.
At the command post, our compañera Marta Lugioyo, a lawyer, read out the execution orders, and the names of those who would be executed for committing atrocities. This sentence wasn’t carried out, however, because some of the guilty had escaped.
By January 1, Batista had fled Havana, but the Leoncio Vidal Regiment in Santa Clara still had not surrendered. In order to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, Che sent Dr. Rodríguez de la Vega, Núñez Jiménez and Dr. Ruiz de Zárate to negotiate with Colonel Hernández, the head of the regiment. He was warned that if his troops did not surrender by 12:30 the battle would commence. He did not agree.
Once the deadline had passed, the colonel sent Commander Fernández to speak with Che. The ultimatum was repeated and Colonel Hernández was told he would bear full responsibility for whatever happened. There could be no doubt, if it came to a battle, there would be a great many casualties because the forces were disproportionate. The rebels had about 340 men against 3,000 soldiers who, although demoralized, might decide to fight when faced with the prospect of certain death. Fortunately, the enemy eventually surrendered and accepted the revolutionary command’s word of honor that their lives would be spared.
On January 1, Che was able to communicate with Fidel via radio, receiving the order to proceed immediately to Havana. Batista and his closest collaborators had fled the evening before and the situation was becoming quite confused. That is why Camilo Cienfuegos was ordered to take his “Antonio Maceo” Second Column to Camp Columbia in Havana, Batista’s most important fortress. Che’s “Ciro Redondo” Eighth Column went to seize La Cabaña Fortress at the entrance to Havana Bay, which controlled access to the port and the city.
It is difficult to recall exactly everything that happened next. I know that on January 2, before leaving Santa Clara, I went to inspect the Leoncio Vidal Regiment’s barracks with Che. Sometime on that day I went to my house to see my parents and collect a few belongings. I told them I was going to Havana because the war was not yet over. My parents were very happy to see me and extremely relieved I had not been injured in all the fighting. They had been very worried after they heard from Marta or Lolita that I had become involved in the armed conflict. To their relief their prodigal daughter had returned unharmed. For the time being they had to be content with a fond farewell. I also had a chance to say good-bye to Lolita. I quickly made my way back to the command post. I was very tired, but at least I had had a chance to have a bath and to find slightly more appropriate clothes. I have to confess that, in the mad rush to leave for Havana, my fear was that I would be left behind. All I wanted to do was to continue with the rebel forces.
When I got back everything was bustling as they prepared to leave for Havana. We went to the regiment’s barracks where the Rebel Army command was organizing the troop that would proceed to Havana. We set out on the afternoon of January 2. On the outskirts of Santa Clara, we saw trucks with rebels piled on board. We were in the jeep with our regular compañeros: Alberto, Villegas, Argudín and Herm
es Peña. Behind us, in another car, were Rodríguez de la Vega, Núñez Jiménez and others—I can’t remember all of them. What had been a dream seemed to have become reality.
1. Che’s short story, “The Stone,” is included as an appendix to this book.
2. See “The Final Offensive and the Battle of Santa Clara,” in Ernesto Che Guevara: Reminiscences of the Cuban Revolutionary War (Ocean Press, 2006).
3. December 28 is the equivalent of April Fool’s Day (April 1) in Latin America.
4. Che later wrote: “At the risk of seeming ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.”
6
Every time I try to recall that trip to Havana, the events get jumbled in my mind. I remember feeling all kinds of emotions, partly due to a lack of sleep. I was utterly exhausted, but it was more than that—I think I was now absorbing all the disturbing experiences of recent days and weeks. Whatever the case, I had now embarked on a particular road and I had no doubt it was the right course. It was a time of tremendous expectations and heightened emotions. Leaving Santa Clara in that impromptu convoy, I left behind many of my youthful dreams, although some were now becoming reality.
We made our first stop to refuel at dusk. I think this was in Los Arabos, but it might have been Coliseo. It was a place I knew, having passed through there during my time in the clandestine struggle. But what I could never have imagined was that this place would become so special to me for the rest of my life. In that small, apparently insignificant town, Che first declared his love for me.
We found ourselves sitting alone in the vehicle. He suddenly turned to me and told me he had realized he loved me that day in Santa Clara when the armored car suddenly came up behind us. He said he was dreadfully afraid that something might happen to me. I was exhausted and half asleep, so I was hardly listening to what he was saying. I didn’t even take it very seriously, as I still saw him as much older than I was. I had previously had professions of love from others. Moreover, he was my leader, someone I respected and admired. He might have expected some kind of response from me, but at that moment I couldn’t utter a word—I was so tired. Also, I thought perhaps I hadn’t heard him correctly and I didn’t want a repeat of the “Caterpillar” incident.
Looking back, I think Che didn’t exactly choose the best moment to declare his love, and I felt a bit upset later thinking he didn’t get the response he might have hoped for. But that was it. The others piled back into the jeep, and we were soon on our way again. But the ice had certainly been broken.
We stopped in the town of Matanzas that night. We met up with some of Camilo’s troops, and I recall us having something to eat. Che called Camilo from the old telephone company. Camilo was already at Camp Columbia in Havana, and they were able to update one another about the situation. The next day we set off again. A small group of Che’s Eighth Column led by Víctor Bordón had gone ahead with Camilo’s men, and another group stayed at the Matanzas regiment, under Julio Chaviano’s command, in order to maintain order. This was Che’s reason for passing through Matanzas on the way to Havana. A few days later, Chaviano joined us in Havana to report to Che about the situation in Matanzas.
Some of us still debate what happened on the next part of the trip to Havana, probably because most of us were from the country and not familiar with the route. My memory is that we stayed on the main highway, and we came into Havana via Cotorro, on the port road and through the tunnel near the bay.
We reached La Cabaña Fortress in the early morning hours of January 3. The head of the fort (Colonel Manuel Varela Castro) was waiting for us. He belonged to the group known as the “pure soldiers” that included José Ramón Fernández and others—soldiers who had been won over to supporting the revolution. Che was told about the unarmed troops stationed at the barracks and he decided not to go there. He went instead to the Military Club, where the non-commissioned officers and prisoners were being held. The officers still had their handguns.
As we made our way to the old army headquarters, there was an eerie calm about the city. After some discussion, we went to the army commander’s house in La Cabaña, where we met Lieutenant-Colonel Fernández Miranda (Batista’s brother-in-law) and several other high-profile Batista men.
What took place there was quite surreal. It was strange to be in such an enormous fort, watching the soldiers subordinate themselves to the rebel command. This revealed the low morale of Batista’s army. More importantly, it showed the trust in and respect for the new Rebel Army, which had proved it had the unconditional support of the Cuban people.
Che and others set up their command post in Fernández Miranda’s house, and we stayed the night there. Most of the men slept in the main room, while I was given the smallest separate room. I slept only a few hours as we still couldn’t allow ourselves much time to rest. A few of the women with us searched for a change of clothes among Fernández Miranda’s wife’s things. That morning Che set himself up to work in a small office in the house, but later transferred his office to the army headquarters within the fort. Walking around La Cabaña, we were in awe of the magnificent gardens and the view of the sea, marvelling at the incredible beauty of the place. We, the dispossessed, for the first time felt ourselves masters of our own destiny. But, as Che had always warned, from that moment the real revolutionary struggle would begin.
A new life began for all of us. The initial chaos gave way to order, and we took the first steps in organizing ourselves, occupying other houses within the fort. On January 5 we took a plane to Camagüey. I had no idea where we were going and even less who we would meet there. During the trip Che dictated some notes to me about the duties of a rebel soldier. This is how I began my first job with him, without it ever being officially decided. Che was aware of the need to jot down his thoughts to assist the process of the revolutionary transformation that had begun.
I stayed in the airport with Commander Manuel Piñeiro (Barbarroja)1 and Demetrio Montseny (Villa), and then we later returned to Havana with Che. The purpose of the trip, as I later discovered, was to meet with Fidel, who was coming in a triumphant cavalcade from Santiago to Havana. They discussed the next steps to be taken and what new orders should be issued. This meeting at the Camagüey airport was captured in a famous photograph that shows both men in a happy, relaxed mood.
A few days later, on January 7, we traveled by car to Matanzas, where Che again met with Fidel. I waited nearby and I met Celia Sánchez2 for the first time, and later that day Che introduced me to Fidel. I wanted to say so much to him, but somehow the words abandoned me. I wanted to say how much it meant to meet him and how I felt as though I had known him for a long time. He was the reason I felt my life had a purpose and meaning. I had so much to thank him for, not only because of what had happened historically, but also because if it hadn’t been for him I would never have met Che.
We returned to Havana that same day to wait for Fidel. On January 8 from our vantage point on the walls of La Cabaña Fortress, we watched Fidel arrive in Havana. Looking across the bay we could see the huge throng of people crowding around the rebels.
Gradually a certain measure of order was established, despite the excitement and turbulence of the revolution. I, too, began to create some kind of order in my personal life and to adapt to my new life in Havana.
I had to start to do normal, everyday things, or at least try to lead a normal life. I decided to abandon my guerrilla fatigues and dress like a woman. I went with Lupe (Núñez Jiménez’ wife) to her mother-in-law’s house. She was a dressmaker and she made me a pretty, fashionable dress. Lupe and I also went to the hairdresser together. I soon began to feel like my old self again. We walked around central Havana, acquainting ourselves with the beautiful parts of our capital city for the first time.
Che’s bodyguards accompanied him everywhere, on his way to work or if he and I took a stroll together along the Malecón, Ha
vana’s famous sea wall. Neither of us knew our way around the city. We would often get lost or stop at a red light thinking it was a traffic light, only to realize it was the light of a pharmacy. We laughed a lot about this, paraphrasing the title of a film by referring to ourselves as the “campesinos in Havana.”3 We were simply two people in love, ruled by our feelings. Sometimes, if he was driving the car, he would ask me to fix the collar of his shirt or he would tell me his arm still hurt so could I fix his hair—these were his sly ways of getting me to caress him in public before we were married.
We lived every minute to the utmost. My friends from the Presbyterian Church invited me a couple of times to attend church with them. Once Che drove me to church in his car, and left me at the door, saying he would pick me up an hour later. I had a wonderful reunion with my old friends Faustino Pérez, Orestes González, Sergio Arce (who had been my pastor in Santa Clara) and the widow of Marcelo Salado. Che always respected my opinions and told me what he thought. Over time, with the impact of the social transformation taking place around me, and under Che’s influence, my attitude to religion changed.
I can’t recall who picked me up from the church that time. It was probably one of the bodyguards, and we then went to pick up Che from Ciudad Libertad, as Camp Columbia was now called. In those first days we spent quite a few nights there with Camilo. At other times, Camilo would come across to La Cabaña. Camilo had a reputation as a ladies man. One day he stopped by when Che wasn’t around and put me on the spot, bluntly asking me about my relationship with Che. I responded curtly that I was only his secretary. Backing off, he half-jokingly insisted he had only stopped by to see Che, and that was the end of it. Everyone loved Camilo and I took no offense.