History
Mission of doom
A new book about the Bay of Pigs disaster lets the facts speak for
themselves
By Ariel Gonzalez
Could it have worked? Fifty years later — 50 years this month, to be
exact — the question lingers. The Bay of Pigs invasion has receded from
national memory, but in Miami mention of it still provokes anger and
bitterness. The reaction could not be more different in Cuba, where the
botched invasion is celebrated as a glorious victory over Yankee
imperialism. But what if President Kennedy had given the go-ahead for a
second air strike to eliminate Castro's remaining planes? Then could an
underequipped, undertrained force of 1,400 rebels have pulled off a
Thermopylae and bottled up a 300,000-strong military long enough to
inspire internal dissent and legitimize U.S. involvement?
Or was the whole thing doomed from the start?
Rather than come down on one side or the other, Jim Rasenberger's new
book lets the facts speak for themselves. While certainly not the first
history of the invasion, The Brilliant Disaster is among the finest. Its
context is richly detailed, its tempo novelistic. Forthright and
accessible, it delineates a convoluted chain of events leading to
humiliation and tragedy.
Rasenberger has a personal connection to the story: his father was a
lawyer who aided the Kennedy brothers' efforts to free the jailed
rebels. But he is no apologist for the administration; he concedes the
arrogance and incompetence that blinded the so-called best and brightest
to the invasion plan's glaring flaws.
The plan was a hot potato passed on to JFK by his predecessor, Dwight
Eisenhower, who warned against the military-industrial complex but
embraced an unelected, largely unaccountable intelligence network.
Eisenhower ordered the CIA to overthrow the new regime in Havana. The
agency was adept at such skullduggery. Under its director, Allen Dulles,
it had orchestrated coups in Guatemala and, to our future chagrin, Iran.
Dulles tapped Richard Bissell, his top spymaster, to oversee the
clandestine campaign against Castro. Bissell was a pedigreed WASP who
had never failed at anything he attempted. But he committed two fatal
errors: underestimating Castro and misconstruing Kennedy.
Bissell's team included a descendant of circus clowns, and in
retrospect, it's hard to believe they weren't putting on an act. The
rebels were never expected to overthrow Castro by themselves. They only
had to hold a "small lodgment" for two weeks — a month at most. Bissell
hoped this would trigger mass uprisings. A group of handpicked exile
leaders, flown from Miami to the battlefield by the CIA, would then
declare itself Cuba's provisional government. Soon thereafter, the
United States would extend diplomatic recognition and material support.
However, the operation — aptly codenamed "Bumpy Road" by the Pentagon —
showed early signs of fraying. Sieve-like security reduced the element
of surprise. For months, Castro had been aware of the rebel training
camp in Guatemala. Correctly surmising they would attack in the spring,
he rounded up dissidents and placed the island on alert.
The Joint Chiefs of Staff, experts in mounting amphibious assaults, were
skeptical. But they wanted to show they were team players, so they gave
the rebels an overly generous 30 percent chance of success. It plummeted
to zero after Kennedy cancelled further bombing runs. Destroying
Castro's small air force was essential. Otherwise the rebels would be
sitting ducks on the beach. Their B-26s had taken out five planes their
first (and only) time around. But seven were left, including three jet
fighters.
What happened then is painful to read. Whether you agree with the
invasion or not, the men of Brigade 2506 fought bravely. Rasenberger is
critical of almost everyone involved, but he has respect and admiration
for the rebels. Their pleas over the radio for help from their American
friends are heartrending, especially with a U.S. Navy task force just
offshore, wielding enough firepower to alter the course of history.
Rasenberger dusts off JFK's clay feet. The president was never
enthusiastic about the invasion. Determined to keep U.S. involvement as
plausibly deniable as possible, he kept ordering Bissell to whittle down
the plan. Bissell should have assessed the situation honestly and
recommended cancellation. "I'd rather be called an aggressor than a
bum," the president told his brother Bobby. He was called both.
In the end, we should contemplate this haunting statement by a rebel who
saw two U.S. jets pass over the beach: "They were beautiful. We never
saw them again."
Ariel Gonzalez teaches English at Miami Dade College.
http://www.miamiherald.com/2011/04/10/2157373/mission-of-doom.html
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