How we left Cuba just days after Bay of Pigs
BY CARMEN E. RICHARDS
The day of freedom arrived for my mother, sister and me on April 25,
1961. It was several days after Fidel Castro's military squelched the
CIA-backed Bay of Pigs invasion.
"On the streets of Havana, there was a trembling quiet," my mother said,
"but inside we were terrified." Castro reopened the airport, and a
window of opportunity, by kicking the foreign press out of Cuba. When my
mother heard this, her Latina determination activated and, with divine
intervention, we left Cuba.
Two weeks before the Bay of Pigs invasion, on March 28, 1961, my father,
Luis Lichtl, a former captain in Castro's rebel army, and five other men
escaped execution by fleeing Cuba in an 18 foot fishing boat. They left
with no food, little water, 15 gallons of gas and two oars. After three
harrowing nights on the forceful Atlantic, an American submarine
discovered their small boat.
The Americans rescued the men on the 21st birthday of the youngest exile
and current Miami resident Juan Becerra. Four days later, the Cuban men
enlisted with the CIA. " Cambiamos el uniforme," Becerra said. They
exchanged their rebel uniforms for those of the 2506 Brigade.
"In Cuba, we were waiting for the invasion," my father said. "But we
didn't know when it was coming; and, that Fidel knew about it."
In Havana, the police interrogated my mother about her missing husband.
"He is gone and I am leaving too," she said. After a couple of hours
they let her go. "There was a kind of chivalry back then," she told me.
"War was man's business and women were left out of it. But, all of that
changed after the failed invasion, and I knew I was living on borrowed
time."
My father and his men never made it to Cuban shores again. They were
among the lucky ones from the 2506 who never deployed. "We were ready to
go," Becerra said, "but it was over before we stepped foot on the
plane." By April 25, Fidel Castro had arrested 200,000, including women
and family members of those he suspected of counter revolutionary
activity. This was ironic for my parents who said, "Fidel Castro was the
only counter revolutionary, because he was the one who betrayed the
revolution."
From work that day, my mother called Cubana de Aviación. There were no
seats available on any flights. But, my mother never took "no" for an
answer. She called home instructing our nanny to pack our clothing.
"I was desperate to get out," my mother said. "I knew it was just a
matter of time before I would be arrested and you girls would be in the
hands of the communists. But, I had no intention of letting that happen.
I even considered the worst case . . . if I could not get out, then I
would just put us all to sleep — permanently."
Later, we stood in the crowded Havana airport with my grandfather and
uncle. It was hot that day, and I felt especially uncomfortable. Around
us, police patrolled, snatching people away from their families. With
two hands I clung to my grandfather. My mother persisted with the
airline attendant while I buried my face in my grandfather's pant leg. I
heard my sister crying in the arms of my uncle. Angry dogs barked,
growling nearby. I searched for quiet and safety in the darkness of my
grandfather's fabric; it smelled like starch and I stayed calm because
of his gentle hand stroking my hair.
"You have to give me one seat," my mother insisted, "just one seat, and
my daughters won't be left without both parents." A miracle occurred
then, and we were given a seat.
It was my first plane ride, and I must have been in shock because I
can't remember any feelings except watching the propellers and seeing
the colors of the water below. When we landed, a crowd of people waited
for us. On the ground, my father spotted my face framed in the window.
"There's Carmen, there's Carmen!" he exclaimed. Our family reunited and
the exclamation became a quote in the Miami Herald's evening edition.
That day a transformation occurred. I was no longer Carmen, an average
young girl from Havana; instead, I was Carmen, a fortunate,
four-year-old Cuban refugee. That day, I was removed from the threat of
indoctrination and the repression of communism. I was free thanks to my
parents' convictions, with untold resources and opportunities laid at my
feet like bouquets of cascading roses.
Carmen E. Richards is the author of 90 Miles to Freedom.
http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/04/14/2167789/how-we-left-cuba-just-days-after.html
No comments:
Post a Comment