August 1958
Sierra Maestra, Cuba
Soon after the surrender of Battalion 18, Fidel led the victorious rebels to rush to the aid of the heavily outnumbered columns of Rául Castro and Che Guevara. Using the terrain to their advantage, they outfought and defeated the Cuban army forces once again.
General Eulogio Cantillo brokered a truce with Fidel Castro before ordering a general retreat from the Sierra Maestra mountains. It was a crippling blow for Batista's regime. Many soldiers, captured by the Movement, chose to join them instead of being released back to the army.
Fidel Castro announced the momentous victory on Radio Rebelde, the radio station operated by the Movement.
"We have proven that the dictatorship can be beaten!" he charged his words with a revolutionary fire. "People of Cuba. I, Fidel Castro, am calling for a revolution across the country. We shall topple the dictatorship! From the Sierra Maestra mountains we shall descend and achieve victory!"
In the weeks that followed, hundreds of peasants and deserters from the Cuban army came to the Sierra Maestra, swelling the ranks of the Movement.
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Dario grinned as his eyes scanned through the host of familiar faces at the grand table.
Che Guevara, smoking a cigar, wearing his trademark beret. Huber Matos, who had grown a rather thick moustache, sitting alert with blue beady eyes in rapt attention. His best friend, Camilo Cienfuegos, who had on an enormous smile underneath a ridiculous broad-brimmed hat. Rául Castro, with disquieting and blinking dark eyes, and pursed lips. Fidel Castro, standing at the head of the table, gazing upon the gathering with pride. Celia Sánchez sat beside him, tough and sinewy, but she also gave off an aura of saintly devotion and care. Her superb efforts managing the supply lines that sustained the Movement earned her a nickname amongst her comrades, "The Godmother of the Sierra Maestra".
Of course, sitting beside Dario would be the love of his life, Juanita Castro, brimming with radiant energy. She seemed to have grown more beautiful in her absence. Whenever she chanced a look at him, Dario would turn crimson immediately, much to her playful delight.
There was a new face at the table.. Well, not exactly new for Dario who had seen him face to face at the desperate battle at the shore a month ago. A bony, stern-looking man by the name of José Quevedo, a new addition as a column commander, and the ex-Commanding Officer of Battalion 18. The Movement had grown so much in strength that Fidel had to appoint two new men to serve as column commanders. Huber Matos was the first choice.
His old classmate José Quevedo agreed to defect to the Movement after Fidel talked to him, convincing him that the rebel cause was the just one and that rebel victory was inevitable. Quevedo took charge of a column containing other defectors after helping Fidel convince many soldiers to defect with him.
Fidel Castro had called all of them here to meet in this quaint farmhouse to discuss plans for the future. He spread a map of Cuba out on the table, before addressing the room.
"My comrades, and my friends," Fidel started the meeting as his clear voice echoed from the corners of the bare room. "It is a pleasure to see of you here today. I cannot seem to recall the last time I have all of you in the same room. Firstly, let me introduce all of you to our new column commander, José Quevedo, who was a battalion commander with the Cuban army. He has defected to our cause."
Everyone clapped warmly to welcome Quevedo, who nodded in acknowledgement, allowing himself to smile at the applause.
"I have called of you here today to announce our plans for our counteroffensive against Batista. For more than a year, we have been building our strength here in the Sierra Maestra, and fought countless battles against Batista's forces who sought to destroy us. That shall not happen anymore. Today is the day that we shall start to fight back."
Grunts of agreement came from the commanders. Dario felt a swelling in his heart, feeling a tremor of excitement at the thought of going on offense. Perhaps the brutal war would finally be won.
Fidel's dark eyes scanned the room. He allowed a moment of silence to build up anticipation for his words. He nodded, allowing his lips to curl up with glee.
"This is the plan. We need to cut the island in two, and separate Havana from here in the East. So, we shall split into two main forces to take two key areas."
He pointed his finger to a dot to the east of the Sierra Maestra. "Santiago," he said. "The second largest city in the country. If we take this, we break the spine of the army in the East. Rául, Dario, Huber, Celia and myself will lead our columns to advance towards Santiago."
His fingers then slid to the center of the island, and circled two words. Santa Clara.
"Santa Clara." He muttered those words as if he was mentioning the holy grail. "If we take the city of Santa Clara, there is no doubt that we will win the war. Che, Camilo and Quevedo. You three will advance towards Santa Clara. Your path will be easier since the enemy will hopefully be preoccupied with defending Santiago. Take the city of Camaguey on the way. Like this, we will split Cuba in two. In that case, if Batista wishes to reinforce Santiago, he can only do so by sea or air."
Fidel let his commanders soak in the information for a moment, before continuing. "If this plan succeeds, it's effectively checkmate for Batista. A defeat on this scale will lose him the support of the military, and the populace will rise against him."
"What do I do?" Juanita asked.
He turned to his sister, eyes glimmering with passion. "Juanita, you will be in charge of liaising with the Revolutionary Directorate to instigate a revolt in Havana. It's terribly important that once Santa Clara is taken, Havana rises up against Batista."
The Revolutionary Directorate. The name sounded familiar to Dario. Then it dawned on him. They were the anti-government student group in Havana. But following the death of their leader, José Antonio Echeverría, months ago, they had gone into hiding. Rumours had it that Batista was hunting their remnants, and executing them without trial. Camilo's old friends...
"As you wish, brother," Juanita replied.
Fidel nodded and let his gaze wander to the mass of faces staring at the map of Cuba. "So, any questions?"
Camilo raised his hand. "So, what is the backup plan if we fail?"
Fidel took a deep breath, and a hint of apprehension flashed across his features. "It's a gamble, Camilo. If our columns at Santiago fall, then the western columns will be prone to a pincer attack. If the attack on Santa Clara fails, then we lose our chance at winning the war."
Everyone's attention is on him, and a new atmosphere descended upon the room, layering it in a musty cloak of fear.
"We must succeed. Failure is not an option."
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"It's saddening." Juanita pouted. "I have to leave for Havana, and I won't be able to see you for a few months at least. Just when we won yet another battle. You know, I kept worrying about you, day after day, that I would not see you again."
Dario nuzzled his nose into the nape of his lover's neck. "I worry about that too everyday. But you see, I am still alive!"
Juanita clasped his cheeks, frowning. "Don't do anything reckless, alright?"
"Yes."
She turned and scuttled to the edge of the bed. Her eyes were distant, staring through the flaps of the tent. "Imagine if we won the war, and we can live a happy and normal life, instead of living day by day in the jungles. Raise a family. It's almost surreal to think of such fantasies."
Dario lay a hand on her shoulder. "It won't be a fantasy, Juanita. We will make it happen," he assured her. "Camilo said to me long ago that if we survived long enough, we would rise to the top of the Movement, and if we won the war, we would stand at the top of the country."
She raised her eyebrows, and said in a low voice, "Wow, I never thought you harboured such ambitions."
"It's just that I can't help thinking those thoughts. If we win, I will never want for anything again. A young man like me in such a position? It will be hard, but... it's actually in reach. If only my Mama and Papa could see me right now... I think they will be so proud." His voice broke towards the end. His heart ached with an immeasurable mixture of sorrow and pride.
Juanita lay her head on his shoulder, her hand massaging his back. "They will be proud of you, Dario. They will. I am proud of you, Dario."
"Thank you, Juanita."
"Just remember to come back to me in one piece, okay?" Her eyes started to well up with tears. The fear came to her like an involuntary twitch of a muscle. If he died... If he died...
"I will, Juanita. I will." He kissed her on the lips. Their tongues mingled with unbridled passion. He kissed her so hard that he could feel his heart constrict and his back tighten. They withdrew, breathing heavily. The desire embedded in their gazes held the knowledge that they would not see each other, potentially for months.
"We will be together again, I promise you," Dario croaked up. Every single word was pronounced with fervent intensity from the depths of his soul. "There's nothing in the world that matters more."
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Dear Readers,
A short chapter here, to warm things up before we dive into the next series of battles. Battles, after battles, after battles. Such is the life of a revolutionary... Perhaps it will all end soon? But will it be happily ever after if they win?
Please don't forget to vote or leave your comment!
Yours sincerely,
SyllabusPearl