When we reached the village we thought was Lulimba, nobody was there. We pushed on toward the Kimbi River and met everyone lying in ambush a couple of kilometers farther on; we discovered that the village we had been calling Lulimba was not Lulimba and that the real one was some four kilometers away, on the banks of the Kimbi. Lambert had received some news from Kalonda-Kibuyu, bragging that all the enemy positions had been destroyed and the guardsmen driven into the forest. Believing this to be true, he issued the order to calmly advance, but on reaching there, they almost ran into the guardsmen, who were just as relaxed as our own group. They were doing exercises in a camp near the village, and there were a lot of them. A little ambush was set up, and some scouts were sent off and estimated their strength at between 150 and 300.
The key task was to concentrate the greatest possible number of combatants, organize them and then launch a modest attack that would attract enemy forces to that point. But first we had to establish a somewhat stronger base and wait for Lambert to bring his famous 350 men. We withdrew to the Mission, four kilometers from Lulimba, and awaited the outcome of the meetings with each of the barrier leaders; Lambert would be in charge of this.
THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The Mission camp gave the impression of being a group of kids on a weekend excursion, without a care in the world. From a distance, people could be heard arguing in loud voices, and the racket surrounding some funny incident was enough to bring down the roof of the church in which they were staying. It was a constant struggle to keep the sentries at their posts. Lambert came and went all the time, giving the impression of great efficiency in the search for his men, but these never showed up and we were never able to increase the total beyond 40. When he did manage to gather together a few more, others would return to their barrier or their little villages out in the sticks. Nor was it possible to bring machine guns down to strengthen the position; they barely made it to the first hill overlooking the access to the mountains.
The reconnaissance I had entrusted to Waziri and Banhir showed that there were many more soldiers than the 53 we had initially been told about. Their main camp was on the other side of the Kimbi River, but they also had another that we had not managed to locate accurately. The enemy crossed freely to this side of the river and ate from the large cassava fields once sown by the peasants on each side of the road. It would be relatively easy to ambush them there. Banhir, who had reconnoitered to the right of the road, thought there must be another camp, but he had not been able to see it before he was almost captured by the soldiers. I sent him off again to some small but commanding hills, where he could scour the plain for a second camp. He was unable to complete this mission, however, because he stumbled across some enemy soldiers out hunting—although fortunately they did not spot him. Such was their impunity that they would venture to the very foothills of the mountains. From where we were, we could hear them shooting in all directions. This made our sentries very nervous; on the very first day, they had fled from the ambush at the sound of hunters shooting nearby.
We received news of Mbili’s various engagements at the ambushes between Katenga and Lulimba; they had caused some enemy casualties but not as many as we would have liked, and reinforcement columns had been able to get through. Moja pointed out that our own men were the only ones left at the ambushes as the Congolese stayed at best for two or three days and it was more and more difficult to replace them; they were returning to their camp higher up, having completely lost the little enthusiasm with which they had started out. Airplanes had bombed the peasant villages of Nganja and Kanyanja, dropping leaflets with a blurry picture of some dead people and a caption explaining that this was the result of raids by simbas. Below this, an appeal in Swahili and French urged people not to let themselves suffer or be killed to enrich the Chinese and Cubans, who were here only to steal gold. Along with these stupidities were true statements such as the fact that the peasants had no salt or clothing, could not hunt or sow, and were threatened with starvation—things felt most acutely by the peasants. At the bottom of the leaflets was a safe-conduct pass signed by Mobutu, which would enable them to return to a normal life; Tshombe’s army would guarantee their life and liberty.
This same method was used by Batista during our [revolutionary] war. Some weak individuals might have fallen for this, but this did very little damage in Cuba. My fear was that here the weak were the majority in every sense. Of course, the people who dropped the leaflets were as stupid as Batista’s men—spreading the propaganda immediately after bombing and sowing terror. This seems to be the standard practice of repressive armies.
I went exploring the nearby area for places where weapons could be installed and effective ambushes laid. I spent the morning doing this and planned to continue when Danhusi, one of my aides, came running to tell me that the guardsmen had been hunting very close to the Mission and had fired a few shots; the sentries fled and soon everyone was dispersed. I had to make my way back and start the irksome business of searching for the men. This was difficult because their cohesion lasted only until an alert was raised, when they would all race to the safe shelter of the mountains. This disorderly flight meant that I was left with scarcely 20 or 25 Congolese.
The following day Lambert returned from his trip to the barrier on the Kabambare road and said that the men were now four kilometers from Lulimba. He had instructed them to be ready for any eventuality; there were now only 60 of them, not 120, although they were in good fighting spirits. I no longer had much faith in Lambert because of his frequent irresponsible acts, but we could count on 60 men as a first approximation. I gave him an account of what had happened and said that we could not attack with the men. The latest reports were that Lulimba had been significantly reinforced, and so I proposed that we organize three small ambushes to irritate the enemy: two where the cassava grew (and the enemy was off his guard), and another one on the main road. I would move my command post to the Kiliwe, a stream to the left of the barrier, and try to organize my men there. In reality, I was looking for a way to detach myself from Lambert and organize the mixed force, an ambition I had never been able to achieve because I had never had the necessary core group of Congolese. Lambert said that he would discuss this new tactic with his men and let me know, but his reply never came because of the sort of person he was, and also because events overtook us.
On one of his anarchic excursions from one side to the other, Lambert came across an enemy soldier out hunting and killed him. This caused me more anxiety as the Tshombists would certainly have heard the burst of automatic rifle fire and known that their soldier was armed with only a Springfield; furthermore, he had not been buried or taken away from the spot where he was killed. I pointed out to Lambert that the body should be buried so to hide any evidence and to keep the enemy uncertain about his fate, but this was too difficult because everyone was too terrified of the dead to do anything. I had to struggle hard to convince them that the corpse had to disappear; I don’t know if this happened, but at dusk they reported that it had been buried in a concealed place.
It was unwise to spend more time there because the sentries fled at the least hint of danger and sometimes didn’t even bother to report anything before heading off to the mountains. I proposed pulling back a kilometer, but although Lambert agreed in principle he did not act on this.
I should have gone to Makungu to look for the men I would command and form into the nucleus of a guerrilla army, free from the harmful influence of these undisciplined soldiers. But I could not leave Lambert alone with his crazy retinue and we agreed that I would send him Moja with 10 men; in exchange he would give me 10 selected volunteers to undergo training. Lambert kept only half his promise: he sent 10 men, but they were not volunteers and certainly not selected; in fact, they were good for nothing.
At the stream, five kilometers from Lulimba, I caught up with the group that was coming led by Tembo; he had endured the fatiguing march with great dignity and won the respect of the skepti
cal Cubans. We now numbered 35, including the men assigned to go with Moja to help Lambert—a minuscule troop. The rest of our contingent of 120 men was scattered at the Lake [Base], at the Upper Base, at Front de Force and at Calixte’s front. Each time we made progress there were fewer of us and it was proving impossible to concentrate our forces. I didn’t dare leave any position completely without Cubans, as I knew there would immediately be a retrogression. There were some new faces in this group: a lieutenant, (Azima’s brother, whom we called Rebokate); a Haitian doctor (Kasulu), who was very useful to us (without any disrespect, I should say he was more useful for his command of French than for his medical knowledge); and Tuma, the head of the wireless communications group. I discussed Tuma’s instructions with him (which were to remain in Dar es-Salaam) and modified them so that he could establish his base on the higher part of the lake and try to make contact with Dar es-Salaam and Kigoma from there; I also instructed him to look for a powerful radio capable of communicating directly with Cuba by Morse Code. The war could not be conducted from the Congo (which is what I intended) if we had to depend on Dar es-Salaam for everything.
We agreed on the equipment required and on the use of a very good Chinese set, which had been distributed with absurd egalitarianism, one to each of the fronts, with no consideration of the fact that they didn’t have the slightest idea of how to use it or that, even if they had, the limited range of the transmitter meant they could not communicate with each other. Nevertheless, it was impossible to take the equipment away from them; each was kept under guard and there was no way they could be convinced to part with it. We would try to form a strong communications unit to train Congolese operators. I also instructed him to examine the long-wave apparatus in Fizi, which was still intact despite a number of air raids, and to see if we could not establish a revolutionary radio station for the region.1
Che (Tatu) shaving his beard as part of the process of preparing his disguise.
Che assumed the identity of Ramón Benítez for his travel from Cuba to the Congo.
Seated left to right: Víctor Dreke (Moja) and Che (Tatu). Standing: José María Martínez Tamayo (Mbili).
Fidel at the farewell for Che, Víctor Dreke and José María Martínez Tamayo before they left Cuba for the Congo.
Che (in disguise) with Fidel.
Che (in disguise) in Cuba, preparing to leave for the Congo.
The first group en route from Dar es-Salaam to Kigoma in Tanzania.
Soon after arriving at the camp. From left to right: Víctor Dreke (Moja), Rafael Zerquera (Kumi) and Che (Tatu).
Left to right: Ernest Ilunga (the Congolese translator), Rogelio Oliva (an official with the Cuban embassy in Tanzania) and the Congolese Kiwi. The others are unidentified.
Cuban soldiers at the base. From left to right: Pablo B. Ortiz (Saba), Eduardo Torres (Nane) and an unidentified Congolese.
A group of Congolese and Cuban combatants. Second on the left: Godefroid Tchamlesso, Mario Armas Fonseca (Rebokate), Roberto Sánchez Barthelemí (Changa), Osmany Cienfuegos and Ramón Armas Fonseca (Azima), together with other combatants.
A group of Congolese and Cuban combatants. From second on the left: Godefroid Tchamlesso, Mario Armas Fonseca (Rebokate), Roberto Sánchez Barthelemi (Changa), Osmany Cienfuegos and Ramón Armas Fonseca (Azima), together with other combatants.
At the main camp. From left to right: Roberto Sánchez (Changa), Víctor Dreke (Moja), Kiwe, Osmany Cienfuegos, an unidentified Congolese and Rafael Zerquera (Kumi, the doctor).
In the middle: Víctor Dreke (Moja); on the right: Ángel Hernández Angulo (Sitaini) together with other combatants.
Seated in the middle, Che and Ernest Ilunga (translator and Swahili teacher). Standing: Rafael Zerquera (Kumi) together with other Cuban and Congolese combatants.
Che with a group of Cuban and Congolese combatants.
From left to right: Julián Morejón Gilbert (Tisa), Rogelio Oliva and Godefroid Tchamlesso.
At the Upper Base.
Cuban combatants constructing the camp at the Upper Base.
During a training exercise. From left to right: Santiago Terry Rodríguez (Aly), Godefroid Tchamlesso, Rogelio Oliva and Julián Morejón Gilbert (Tisa).
At the Upper Base. Second from the left with his back to the camera: Oscar Fernández Mell (Siki); crouching: José Ramón Machado Ventura; front: Ulises Estrada; reclining: Emilio Aragonés (Tembo) and Che; standing: Carlos Coello (Tumaini).
During a communications session. Seated, from left to right: Rogelio Oliva, José María Martínez Tamayo (Mbili) and Che.
Che giving military classes using a map of the zone of operations. To his left: Santiago Terry Rodríguez (Aly) and to his right: Ángel Hernández Angulo (Sitaini).
A class on tactics.
In the center: Ángel Hernández Angulo (Sitaini) preparing food with other combatants.
Che at mealtime.
Che with a group of local Congolese. Crouching: Roberto Chaveco Núñez (Kasambala).
At the Upper Base. From left to right: Godefroid Tchamlesso, Sammy Kent, Che and Kiwe.
Che during a break and enjoying what he called one of his “fundamental weaknesses”—smoking.
Che holding a Congolese baby.
Che reading the Cuban press.
A Congolese child with a bullet wound. In the background is a group of combatants.
Residents of the zone of guerrilla operations. Photograph taken by Che.
A Congolese combatant with his family.
One of the boats crossing Lake Tanganyika during the Cuban combatants’ return to Tanzania.
Che on the boat returning to Kigoma from Congolese territory.
Che, returning to Kigoma, again changes his appearance by shaving.
Cuban combatants at the Dar es-Salaam airport before returning to Cuba.
I sent a letter to Massengo with the compañeros full of the usual advice; this time I stressed that we had to discuss things seriously with the people in Fizi so as to clarify our relationship with them, and to use the existing radio, under a central control to avoid self-serving propaganda. I made a few criticisms in passing of the newspaper edited by Kiwe. Without referring to its generally poor quality—nothing much could be expected of it—I objected to the lies told about battles. They were terrible; any fabricator of reports from the Batista era could have learned a thing or two from Compañero Kiwe’s feverish imagination.2 He later blamed it all on his correspondents.
These days were used to try to determine the enemy’s exact position, and to find a temporary camp that would allow us to begin the reorganization of our force and leave the roadside huts that gave us shelter for a while. Aircraft were active in the area, but they took no notice of the abandoned houses and instead machine-gunned the area around Lambert’s barrier. We had become anxious as a result of this attack, when two of Moja’s men arrived and told us that they had been sent to carry out reconnaissance but had run into advancing enemy troops spread out over a wide area; they had managed to hide but had not made it back to the Mission. The attached report describes what had taken place:
September 28
Tatu:
At about 10:30 today, the guardsmen began coming on foot along the road from Lulimba to the Mission, firing mortar shells and with planes bombing from the air. I was with the colonel and other compañeros at the antiaircraft machine gun; we gave the order to fire the cannon to stop the guardsmen from surrounding the compañeros at the Mission; there was no fire from the containing ambushes where the Congolese were, and they have not appeared up to now. Compañeros Tiza and Chail, who were at the Mission cooking, were able to withdraw to our position; Compañeros Banhir and Rabanini left at 4:00 to reconnoiter, and we don’t know anything about them right now; we think they might have pulled back to where you are.3 Virtually all the Congolese are lost; the idea is to rely on our own people to shoot at the guardsmen from this position as the Congolese moved the antiaircraft machine guns when the planes started shoo
ting, and threw them to the ground when I told them to put them back in position. I assigned a Cuban to the machine gun, and I sent another of our compañeros to take charge of the artillery piece, which is located two hills to our rear. The colonel was told to bring the piece here yesterday, but so far this has not happened. Compañero Compagnie,4 who was with Compañero Tiza at the Mission, retreated with the Congolese and his present position is not known, so at the moment there are eight of us. If we do not manage to stop the guards, we think we will retreat to higher ground because this hill is very bare. We have also heard shooting from the Fizi area, which is very strange.
The compañero colonel assures me it is our people, but I take this with a pinch of salt. The guardsmen stopped at the Mission and are still there at the moment.
Moja
News from Mbili informed us that he had attacked two armored cars and destroyed one, but the enemy got through. Enemy aircraft hit them hard and caught them in a clearing, but they did not suffer any losses. The end of the report was pathetic: a number of Cubans were sick and only three Congolese were left, the rest having returned to their base. The guardsmen again broke through the ambush—this time with relative ease, as the combatants were deeply demoralized.
The African Dream Page 14
