Viva Che! E-Book

Andrew Sinclair

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 236

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2006

Beschreibung

The biography of Che Gevara.

Das E-Book Viva Che! wird angeboten von The History Press und wurde mit folgenden Begriffen kategorisiert:

Leseprobe

Viva

CHE!

VIVA

CHE!

The Strange Death and Life of

CHE GUEVARA

ANDREW SINCLAIR

First published by Lorrimer Publishing Limited, © 1968

This new revised edition first published in 2006 by Sutton Publishing Limited

The History Press

The Mill, Brimscombe Port

Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG

www.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2013

All rights reserved

© Andrew Sinclair, 1968, 2006, 2013

The right of Andrew Sinclair to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7509 5648 2

Original typesetting by The History Press

Contents

Acknowledgements

1

Masa

César Vallejo

2

Notes on the Life of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara

Marianne Alexandre

3

Contributions in Tribute to Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara

Italo Calvino, Graham Greene, Robert Lowell, Jean-Paul Sartre, et alia

4

How Che Died

Fidel Castro

5

Régis Debray at his Trial

6

The Cry of the Survivor

Inti Peredo

7

The Death and Life of Che Guevara

Andrew Sinclair

Acknowledgements

We are especially grateful to the following people who contributed much time and effort to the project: Denise Alexandre, Jorge Bolaños, Alberto Korda, Osvaldo Salas and Cecil Woolf.

We would like to thank, for their help and suggestions, Téofilo Acosta, Ana Ortega Cáceres, Marysa Gerassi, Luis Korda, Verney Leech, Derek Lindsay, Ellen Maslow, Rafael Morante, Roberto Fernández Retamar, Guido Sanchez, Marie Schébéko, Daniel Schechter, Raúl Lazo Sotolongo, Jorge Timossi and Ed Victor.

Our thanks are also due to Casa de las Américas, the Cuban Embassy in London, Comision para perpetuar la memoria del Comandante Ernesto Guevara, Revista Cuba and Departamento de Prensa Extrangera (Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores).

The piece by John Berger is reprinted by kind permission of New Society; the poem by Adrian Mitchell is reprinted by kind permission of Peace News; the piece by OZ Magazine is reprinted by kind permission of the editors; the song by Alasdair Clayre is included by kind permission of Albermarle Music, Ltd.

Other people have kindly helped us in many ways too various to specify. To all of these, our grateful thanks. Finally, we wish to thank all those who wrote in or sent contributions that we were unable to publish for lack of space.

Masa

At the end of the battle, when the fighter was dead,

A man came up to him and said:

‘Do not die. I love you so.’

But, alas, the body stayed dead.

Two men came near him and repeated:

‘Don’t leave us. Be brave. Come back.’

But, alas, the body stayed dead.

Then twenty, a hundred, a thousand,

Five hundred thousand came and begged,

‘Can so much love do nothing against death?’

But, alas, the body stayed dead.

Then millions came up; he was surrounded.

And all of them called: ‘Brother, don’t leave us. . . .’

But, alas, the body stayed dead.

Then all the men on earth came round.

The sad body saw them and was moved;

Slowly, he rose and kissed the first one,

And then began to walk. . . .

CÉSAR VALLEJO (Peru)

(1895–1939)

Notes on the Life of Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara

Ernesto Guevara de la Serna was born in Rosario, Argentina, on 14 June, 1928. His parents were Ernesto Guevara Lynch, civil engineer of Irish descent, and Celia de la Serna, of Spanish descent. This was a middle-class family with strong left-wing and liberal tendencies. The Guevaras were freethinkers, admirers of José Martí, and on the side of the Republicans during the Spanish Civil War.

Ernesto was the eldest of five children; after him came Celia, Roberto, Ana Maria and Juan Martin, in that order.

JOSE AGUILAR: In 1937, my family fled from Spain to Argentina where, at Alta Gracia, a city in the province of Córdoba, we met the Guevaras. All the children became friends and played together every day, really almost living together. The Guevara children were very brave at games and sports, and we were a bit frightened of them. Ernesto like rough games very much; I remember one of his brothers, Roberto, telling me how Ernesto would jump across three feet of space from the third floor of their house to the next, just for kicks, and then make fun of the other chileren because they did not dare do the same thing.

In those days, our favourite writers were Jules Verne and Alexandre Dumas.

Later, when Ernesto started high school in the city of Córdoba, he studied English; but he always liked French better. He studied French with his mother and liked to read French poetry. He was also extremely fond of Pablo Neruda’s poems, and would spend days reciting some of them aloud.

My father, who was a doctor, was upset by the fact that Ernesto read the works of Freud at the age of fourteen and that his parents did not mind.

FERNANDO BARRAL: I met Ernesto in 1940. He was already incredibly sure of himself and totally independent in his opinions. He was very dynamic, restless, and unconventional. I think I secretly envied him for his energy, his self-confidence and his boldness; the most striking thing about him was his absolute fearlessness. The way he played rugby also impressed us, and what made him so different from the rest of us was that he seemed much more ‘tough’.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: I met Ernesto in 1941 when he was at high school with my brother Thomas. I was at University at the time. We Córdoba students, along with students from other universities, had gone on strike against the abuses committed on the university campuses. That was the reason I was arrested and taken to Córdoba central police commissariat. Rather than arrested, I should say kidnapped, for we were not tried. At that time my brother Thomas used to bring me food in jail, as they didn’t feed us. One day, Ernesto, his school friend, came along. I spoke with the two of them and explained that the high school students should demonstrate in the streets so that people would know how we were being treated. What amazed me was young Ernesto Guevara’s reaction to my proposal. He answered, ‘Nothing doing, Alberto. Go out onto the streets so that the police can hit us with their clubs? Nothing doing. I’ll go and demonstrate only if you give me a gun.’

CHE: At fifteen, a man already knows what he wants to die for, and he is not afraid of giving his life, if he has found an ideal which makes this sacrifice easy.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: In spite of the asthma he suffered from all his life, Ernesto was a sports enthusiast, something we had in common; an education which alternated between Baudelaire’s poetry and sports forged him spiritually and made him physically fit. From then on, he became involved with travel and action. He was at high school and I was at university; but as he enjoyed our company and as we were impressed by his intelligence and the depth of his knowledge, we became great friends. I used his father’s library a lot. Ernesto was the main reader, and I came second. Without a doubt, he had an intellectual sense which, from childhood, enabled him to distinguish himself in all aspects of life. He enjoyed going out with us on trips to the country, learning many things that were later useful to us on our motorcycle trip across the continent. Years later, those experiences were necessary to him as a guerrilla. He learned how to set up a tent with few resources. We learned all of those things without ever thinking of future possibilities: it was just a healthy outdoor way of life that allowed us to get away a little from the ordinary routine of the student and city-dweller.

In 1946 Ernesto Guevara finished high school and the Guevara family moved to Buenos Aires. There, Ernesto began his medical studies.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: We all thought that, because of his knowledge of and facility in mathematics, he would study engineering. We were surprised when he told us he had enrolled in medical school. He had a part-time job in the city government and also did some voluntary work in an institute for Allergy Research.

When Ernesto was eighteen years old, he registered for compulsory military service, in accordance with Argentinian law. He was examined by a board of military doctors who, because of his asthma, pronounced him unfit for military service of any sort.

During all his holidays, Ernesto would travel by whatever form of transport was available to him. He sometimes went on foot, and at other times used a bicycle which had a small motor on it. In this manner, he travelled round the various provinces of Argentina: Tucumán, Mendoza, Salta, Jujuy and La Rioja. On another occasion, he signed up as a crew member of a merchant marine ship and went to the Caribbean. It was his first trip abroad.

CHE: I must admit that I have never felt like a foreigner anywhere, neither in Cuba nor in any of the countries I have been to; I felt Guatemalan in Guatemala, Mexican in Mexico, Peruvian in Peru. Just as I feel Cuban in Cuba today and, of course, Argentinian too, here and everywhere else.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: He used to say to his fellow students, ‘While you stay here preparing for three exams, I plan to cover the province of Santa Fé, northern Córdoba, eastern Mendoza, and along the way, study to pass those courses right along with you.’ And, of course, he did just that and maybe more. He covered the route he had planned and passed his courses on top of it. He wasn’t concerned about his grades, he was more interested in studying what would be useful to him and not what was good for getting high marks. . . .

Touring Latin America, becoming acquainted with its beautiful sights and the misery in which its inhabitants lived, was a long cherished dream. On those nights that I spent in the company of Guevara and my brothers in some mountain zone on a weekend or an excursion, our conversation was full of our future trip.

On 29 December, 1951, Ernesto set off with Alberto Granados for a long trip across Latin America by motorcycle. They planned to visit the whole length of the Pacific coast.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: If the motorcycle had held up, the trip would certainly not have turned out to be such a valuable and rewarding personal experience as it did. But the risky motorcycle didn’t make it. Shortly before we got to Santiago, Chile, when we still had not covered even an eighth part of our projected journey, the vehicle simply refused to go any further, and we mournfully wrapped it up in our pup-tent and left it in an out-of-the-way spot while we continued our voyage on foot. This change gave us an opportunity to know the people. We had to get various odd jobs to earn enough money to continue on our trip. We worked as truck drivers, porters, seamen, cops and doctors and dishwashers. Trudging along without a cent in our pockets, we arrived at the gates of the ‘Braden Company’ mine at Chuquicamata, Chile. Certainly, Braden and his cohorts never dreamed that in early 1952 the guard who was then sleeping in their sentry box with his feet resting on a pair of military boots was none other than the man who was later to make Yankee imperialism shiver in its boots: Major Ernesto Che Guevara.

The two young men reached Peru. They were appalled by the condition of the Indians, now totally degraded by hunger, exploitation and addiction to coca.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: I remember one day at Macchu Pichu where we stayed for several days. I was reclining on the ‘sacrificial stone’ among the ruins; Che was sitting next to me, preparing a hot drink. I was speaking about creating a workers’ community in the Andes and then winning over the government to make a revolution for these poor people who receive so few of the benefits of civilization. Ernesto smiled and said, ‘Make the revolution without firing a shot? Are you crazy?’

Guevara and Granados travelled by boat from the port of Pucalpa along the Ucayali River, which is a tributary of the Amazon. After a stay at Iquitos, they travelled on to San Pablo where they stayed at a leprosarium, working in the laboratory and living with the lepers, playing basketball with the patients, taking them on excursions and doing all they could to help.

When the time came to leave, Guevara and Granados decided to cross the Amazon and reach Leticia in Colombia, where the Amazon arrives at the intersection of three countries, Brazil, Peru and Colombia. The lepers built them a raft called the ‘Mambo-Tango’ and organised a going-away party for the two young doctors.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: There, despite a heavy drizzle, was a boat packed with patients: men, women and children. When we arrived they cheered us and immediately began to sing. Everyone else had already gathered there and the band was naturally there too, saxophone in the lead, carrying on a musical dialogue with the patients. Then came the speeches. First three of the patients spoke, simply, awkwardly, but affectionately, expressing admiration for our voyage. When the third patient finished, it was my turn to speak. I was very moved, so my speech was not very good. . . . When the applause ended, they sang a farewell song and began to leave slowly and silently. The most moving part of the ceremony was to see the white boat slowly slipping away in the mist and the rain while the song of the chorus still reached us. It seemed dreamlike; everything was embellished by the affection and sense of brotherhood that we all felt in that moment.

They had many adventures and difficulties, for they missed Leticia and drifted further down river. When they made their way back to Leticia, they worked as soccer coaches, then got arrested in Bogotá. Finally, they reached Venezuela. Granados decided to stay and work at a leprosarium in Caracas and Ernesto met a family friend who owned a plane for transporting race-horses. This plane was returning to Buenos Aires via Miami; so Ernesto set off for Miami.

ALBERTO GRANADOS: Che told us that he had a hard time in Miami, that he went a lot to the library, that at first he had only a cup of coffee and milk during the day, that he became friendly with the owner of a cafeteria who gave him some food - until one day a Puerto Rican came in and began talking against the Truman administration. He was overheard by an FBI agent, and it was the same old story. Che had to make himself scarce.

Ernesto finally got back to Buenos Aires and continued his studies. He received his MD in March, 1953.

JOSE AGUILAR: He finished his student’s career in a meteoric fashion, not terribly well, without getting brilliant marks, but extremely fast.

CHE: When I began my medical studies, most of my ideals as a revolutionary did not exist. Like most other people, I longed for success. I dreamed of being a famous researcher and achieving something which might ultimately be of use to humanity. But due to a series of circumstances and also partly due to inclination, I began to travel all over America and got to know it well. Because of the conditions in which I travelled, I came into close contact with poverty and hunger and disease. Through lack of means, I discovered I was unable to cure sick children, and I saw the degradation of undernourishment and constant repression. In this way, I began to realise that there was another thing which was as important as being a famous researcher or making a great contribution to medical science: and that was to help those people.

JOSE AGUILAR: I noticed when he returned from that trip that he was much more interested in political issues. I heard him reading out a passage from his diary about Macchu Pichu. It was about the Spanish colonial domination which had taken over the Indian culture; he described the Catholic churches he had seen which had been built over and had incorporated Inca remains.

After his graduation, Ernesto set out for Venezuela to visit Granados. With two or three companions he took a milk train that went from Buenos Aires to La Paz, a six-thousand mile trip. The train stopped at every city, large or small. He then crossed Lake Titicaca and went down to the coast to get to Venezuela. When he reached Guayaquil in Ecuador, he met Ricardo Rojo, an Argentinian lawyer in exile who had made a spectacular escape from prison, seeking asylum at the Guatemalan embassy in Buenos Aires. When Ernesto told Rojo that he was on his way to Caracas, Rojo replied: ‘But Guevara, why do you want to go to Venezuela, a country that’s good only for making money? Come with me to Guatemala where there’s a real social revolution taking place.’

Granados received a note from Ernesto a few days later. It said, ‘Petiso, I’m going to Guatemala. I’ll write to you later.’

Ernesto Guevara arrived in Guatemala on 24 December, 1953. This was the beginning of ‘El Che’.’ Because Argentinians use the monosyllable ‘che’ to punctuate their conversation, Central Americans call anyone who comes from Argentina by this name.

CHE: To me, ‘Che’ is the most important and most cherished part of my life. It means so much to me; everything that came before it, my surname and my Christian name, are minor, personal and insignificant details.

When Ernesto Guevara arrived in Guatemala, he wanted to go and practise as a doctor in the jungle. He made an application, but the Guatemalan authorities demanded that he renew his doctor’s diploma first, which would have meant more years of study. Instead, he stayed in Guatemala City, leading a life on the margin of poverty, but full of social rewards. He met many young Latin American revolutionaries, including Hilda Gadea from Peru, who became his first wife.

DARIO LOPEZ: The first time I saw Che in Guatemala, he owned only one pair of worn-out shoes and always wore the same shirt that was never properly tucked into his trousers. I think he was heading for the hospital where he worked. Nico López pointed him out to me and said, ‘Look, there’s Che, the Argentine.’ He was going through a very difficult period, and the only clothes he owned were the ones on his back. Occasionally, he would casually ask a pal, ‘Could you lend me a pair of trousers or a shirt?’ (At times, the trousers were too big, but he didn’t seem to mind.)

Nico López belonged to a group of young Cuban exiles who had participated in the assault on the Moncada and the Bayamo fortresses in Santiago de Cuba on 26 July, 1953. This assault had failed, but it had led to the formation of Fidel Castro’s ‘26 of July’ movement and in his departure for Mexico after his imprisonment.

HILDA GADEA: Nico López used to tell us all about what Fidel Castro had done. He admired Fidel, and it was during that period that many of us Latin American exiles began to respect Fidel. Nico would describe Fidel’s discretion, the spirit of sacrifice with which he and his followers had attacked the Moncada fortress. Nico not only admired Fidel, but also had tremendous faith in him.

In February, 1953, Jacobo Arbenz’s left-wing régime had expropriated 225,000 uncultivated acres of arable land from the United Fruit Company owned by American investors.

CHE: The last American revolutionary democracy – that of Jacobo Arbenz – still in power in this area failed as a result of the cold premeditated aggression carried out by the USA, hiding behind the smokescreen of its continental propaganda. Its visible head was the Secretary of State, Dulles, a man who, through a rare coincidence, was also a stockbroker and an attorney of the United Fruit Company. When the American invasion first took place, I tried to get together a group of young men like myself to fight back. In Guatemala, it was necessary to fight and almost nobody fought. It was necessary to resist, and almost nobody resisted.

HILDA GADEA: During the aggression, Che volunteered for guard duty while there was a black-out and the city was being bombed. He asked to go to the front, but he was never sent. Everyone knew he wanted to go and he finally had to take refuge in the Argentinian embassy. It was Guatemala, which finally convinced him of the necessity for armed struggle and for taking the initiative against imperialism. By the time he left, he was sure of this.

MARIO DALMAU: Che had read the complete works of Marx and Lenin, and a whole pantheon of Marxist thinkers. His views were very lucid although, like all Argentinians, he liked to argue about them.

CHE: At that time, when I was in Arbenz’s Guatemala, I had begun taking notes to try and assess what would be the duties of a revolutionary doctor. Then, after the United Fruit Company aggression, I realised one fundamental thing: to be a revolutionary doctor, you needed a revolution first.

In the summer of 1954, I slipped out of Guatemala into Mexico. FBI agents were already arresting and killing off all those who might endanger the United Fruit Company government. In Mexico, I met up again with some militants of the 26 of July movement, whom I had known in Guatemala. I also became friendly with Raúl Castro, Fidel’s brother, and it was he who introduced me to the leader of the movement.

FIDEL CASTRO: Che was one of those people, whom everybody liked on sight for his simplicity, his character, his naturalness, his sense of comradeship, his personality and his originality, even before finding out all the other fine qualities which distinguished him. His political formation had already attained a high degree of development. To convince a man of his type to join us did not need many arguments.

CHE: After my experiences travelling all over Latin America and after Guatemala, it would have taken very little to persuade me to join any revolution against a tyranny; but Fidel made a very great impression on me. He would confront the most impossible situations and resolve them. He was absolutely positive that if we set off for Cuba, we would get there. That once we got there, we would fight, and that by fighting, we would win. His optimism was contagious. We had to act, to fight, so consolidate our position. To stop moaning and to start the real struggle. And in order to prove to the Cuban people that they could trust his word, he made his famous speech, ‘In 1956, we shall be free men or martyrs’, announcing that, before the year was over, he would land somewhere in Cuba at the head of an expeditionary force.

Che began to train for guerrilla warfare in Mexico with the other young men who had decided to follow Fidel back to Cuba.

CHE: My almost immediate impression after attending the first few classes was that victory was possible, something I had doubted when I joined the rebel chief.

On 25 November, 1956, the small yacht ‘Granma’ set off for Cuba, with eighty-three men aboard. Their object was to liberate Cuba from the military dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista.

After a terrible journey, during which all the men aboard the ‘Granma’ were racked with sea-sickness, they finally landed in Cuba, near Belic, a province of Oriente, and tried to head towards the Sierra Maestra mountain chain. Through inexperience, they got bogged down in a swamp and, after they emerged, they camped in a highly unsuitable spot in the sugar-cane fields. This place was known as Alegría de Pío.

MAJOR FAUSTINO PEREZ: At the mention of Alegría de Pío, the first thing that comes to my mind is the doctor who came with the ‘Granma’ expedition. I’m thinking of Che in the grip of an asthma attack that never let up, while he never uttered a word of complaint. When we stopped to rest at Alegría de Pío, at a time when all of us, even the ones in perfect health, felt completely exhausted, Che devoted almost the entire day to caring for comrades, whose feet had been cut to ribbons by the long walk.

But Fidel and his men had been spotted by Batista’s army, which had closed on the unsuspecting men and was now ready to attack.

CHE: At four o’clock that afternoon, without the slightest warning and to our complete surprise, we heard a shot, followed by a symphony of lead over our heads. In the kaleidoscopic scene, men ran by shouting, the wounded called for help, some men tried to take cover behind slender stalks of sugar-cane as if they were tree trunks, while others signalled in terror for silence by placing a finger over their lips amidst the roar of battle. . . . I personally felt the unpleasant sensation in my flesh of a simultaneous baptism of fire and blood. We got out of there as best we could, every man for himself or in groups, not heeding our leader’s orders, without contact with our captains and in a state of complete confusion. I remember the push that Major Almeida gave me since I did not wish to walk, and it was only thanks to his imperious orders that I got up and kept going, believing all the time that I was near death.

Of the eighty-two men who had set out with Fidel, only fifteen were left after the Alegría de Pío disaster. These fifteen wandered about in scattered groups through the cane-fields for nine days before finally meeting up again with their leader, Fidel.

When Fidel, who had only two men with him, joined up with the other twelve survivors of the ‘Granma’ expedition, he made his shortest speech: ‘We have already won the war.’

CHE: It was incredible that this small group of men who did not know each other very well already spoke of victory and taking the initiative. But the one who had the greatest faith in the people, who at all times showed his extraordinary powers of leadership, was Fidel. Already, during those nights sitting under the trees anywhere, those long nights since our activities ceased at nightfall, we began to draw plan after plan for the present, for the near future, and for victory. The days passed, and, little by little, new recruits came in. The first peasants started joining us, some unarmed, some with weapons that had been left by our comrades in the homes of friendly people, or abandoned in the cane-fields as they fled.

FIDEL CASTRO: Then came our first victory and Che was already a soldier by then, as well as our doctor.

CHE: Our small troop already had twenty-two rifles at the time we stormed La Plata on 17 January, 1957, forty-five days after our landing. We caught an Army Post of twelve to fifteen men by surprise, and they surrendered after an hour of fighting. Thus twelve new rifles were obtained from this action.

FIDEL CASTRO: By the time we had a second victory at El Uvero, May, 1957, Che was not only a soldier, but the most outstanding of that battle. He performed for the first time those amazing feats which became typical of everything he did.

CHE: The battle for the military detachment of El Uvero was the fiercest of the war; of the 120 to 140 men who took part, forty were put out of action, which meant that the dead and wounded amounted to approximately thirty per cent of the total combatants. The political outcome of the battle was extraordinary because it took place in one of the few moments – after the ‘Granma’ invasion – when there was no press censorship in the island. The whole of Cuba spoke about El Uvero.

FIDEL CASTRO: On this occasion, Che distinguished himself, not only as a fighter, but as a doctor, helping both his wounded comrades and the enemy soldiers. As we had to leave El Uvero, hunted down by fresh enemy troops, someone had to stay behind with the wounded, and so Che remained. Helped by a small group of soldiers, he hid them, looked after them, saved their lives, and with them eventually joined up with our column once more.