Stupid Wars : A Citizen's Guide to Botched Putsches, Failed Coups, Inane Invasions, and Ridiculous Revolutions

by Ed Strosser

  Lynch’s impact on the López family was so strong that Solano’s father barely spoke to Lynch for the remaining seven years of his life. Loathed instantly by the Paraguayan people, and the wealthy women of Asunción in particular, she was always known as Madame Lynch. López proved his love to his woman by impregnating her seven times, enjoying numerous mistresses, and ensuring the bastardization of her children by never marrying her.

  Father Antonio died in 1862; Solano López seized power and started a killing rampage of his many enemies. He also declared that Madame Lynch must be treated as the first lady of Paraguay, requiring the leading ladies of Asunción society — and yes, they did exist — to pay her homage. Whatever she wanted, she got. Even this, however, was grossly insuffi­cient for Madame Lynch. She did not leave Paris to simply rule over Paraguay. She longed for an empire and insisted on reminding López that he was emperor material and destined to conquer.

  The first signs of trouble in Eden began in 1863 when López pestered the emperor of Brazil, Dom Pedro II, to marry his daughter. Dom Pedro laughingly refused his re­quest, calling López “licentious, dissolute, and cruel.” An­gered by this bold statement of the truth, López set out to prove the emperor correct. He swore that he would extract his revenge on the now-hated Brazilians.

  At the same time, López imported European engineers to bring the country within hailing distance of the modern age. These men became his favorites and were therefore among the last López executed. The tireless professionals con­structed railroads, factories, shipyards, and when the time came, heavily armed fortifications. López had mansions built to house his mistress in splendor. The final flourish to bring Asunción up to European code occurred when Madame Lynch suggested — meaning demanded — López build a glis­tening replica of the famous La Scala opera house in Milan, even though the Paraguayans had never seen an opera. Roofless for nearly one hundred years, it did not host its first opera until 1955.

  It was these European engineers, the first foreigners to enter the country in decades, who described the people of Paraguay as especially happy. They also noted that, perhaps from the years of living under dictators or because in their isolation they didn’t know any better, they were incredibly stoic and brave, and held absolute devotion to their leaders.

  Add to this mix a dictator’s desire to impress his fancy Eu­ropean lady and a dawning realization that maybe, just maybe, he needs to prove himself in war to become the next Napoleon, and you have a recipe for disaster.

  Paraguay, of course, did not exist in a vacuum. Since the end of the Spanish Empire in South America, there had been considerable fighting and confusion among the countries in the region. Much of it centered on Uruguay. Originally part of the Spanish viceroyalty of La Plata along with Paraguay and Argentina, it broke away in 1828 and became indepen­dent. After years of civil war Uruguay came under strong Brazilian influence. Both Brazil and Argentina wanted an in­dependent Uruguay as a buffer between them, while Para­guay was concerned that this area remain on friendly terms since Uruguay represented its sole access to the sea.

  It was amid this constant flow of conflict that López scored his first, and only, political success. After years of civil war in Argentina, in 1859 López volunteered to mediate be­tween the two warring factions. Incredibly, not only was his offer accepted but the fighting actually stopped.

  Returning to Paraguay, López was hailed as a diplomatic savant. The reality was that in a country without any hint of a foreign policy, the only thing separating the ordinary person from a diplomatic god was this one success. Madame Lynch, of course, saw that the road to empire — and to em­press — had started. She pushed for more. In the volatile region it wasn’t long before new conflicts presented opportu­nities for advancement.

  War again flared up in Uruguay in 1863 when a group of unruly Argentines invaded to overthrow the Uruguayan gov­ernment. The invaders belonged to the Colorado political party, generally more European and urban than the rural and predominantly indigenous people running the Blanco politi­cal party in Uruguay. Uruguay, casting about for allies, turned to Paraguay knowing that López was both a fellow Blanco and had the region’s strongest standing army. But López instead played coy and waited until the call for help of his special mediating skills became truly desperate.

  Meanwhile, Madame Lynch occupied herself by turning the country into a huge party as she prepared herself for the eventual role of empress. She organized an endless stream of balls and festivals during the summer of 1864, paid for by the entire country at a price that left a tidy profit for Lynch. The people poured their hearts into the festivities and the re­quired declarations of love for their venerated/feared leader. But as López coyly waited, partying with Madame Lynch, the opportunity passed; he failed to seize the initiative and unite the Blancos in Uruguay and Argentina against the Colorados in Argentina. His self-congratulatory letters offering his diplomatic services to the warring parties were met with stony silence. With his country rapidly filling with Argentine invaders, the Uruguayan leader — lacking any outside sup­port — was forced to open negotiations with Brazil. López again offered to mediate. When he was officially turned down, he vowed revenge for the dissing and in an abrupt about-face mobilized his army, now about 30,000 strong.

  The situation turned dramatically when on October 16, Brazil, led by Colorados, invaded Uruguay to rid themselves of the Blanco leaders. This was too much for Madame Lynch’s fragile sense of importance. She instinctively felt that the opportunity to become empress was ebbing. She berated López to strike at the Brazilians. But how? The obvious choice was to send the army south to support Uruguay and rally the region’s Blancos under López. But Madame Lynch had other ideas. Paraguay would first strike north — in the opposite direction of the fighting. And thus was launched the bloodiest war in South American history by a woman whose sole military expertise consisted of a few years as teenage bride to a French officer.

  WHAT HAPPENED: OPERATION “LAST WOMAN STANDING”

  It should be noted at this point that Paraguay was very small and poor, with the barest whiff of an arms industry. Brazil, on the other hand, had everything that Paraguay lacked: men, wealth, arms, and contacts with the outside world. While exact figures are difficult to achieve, Paraguay had about half a million people. Brazil’s population numbered over 10 million. López, however, was not constrained by the logic of simple math. Besides, it would be a quick war, he convinced himself, and the Brazilians would soon tire of pounding at him and sue for peace. Ah yes, the old formula for success — wear out the enemy by dying too frequently before them.

  López was still left with the practical question of what to do after suddenly starting a war with a country on whose behalf he had only recently been attempting to negotiate. He first captured a Brazilian ship docked in the Paraguay River at Asunción, grabbing money and arms. But now he was sty­mied again. He could not send troops to Uruguay by river because he lacked the necessary ships. He could not march through Brazil to help Uruguay because it was too far away. So, in December 1864, according to Madame Lynch’s plan, troops commanded by López’s brother-in-law grabbed a hunk of poorly protected Brazilian land, hoping it would divert some Brazilian troops from Uruguay. López’s troops looted the countryside, grabbing whatever was not nailed down, turning captured women into slaves, and crafting a souvenir for their beloved leader: a necklace of severed ears. López had achieved one of his goals; his neighbors now knew he existed.

  Pausing to digest his new role as conqueror of meaningless jungle, López pondered his next step. But he moved too slow: he was enjoying his life as a conqueror. In the mean­time, events once again passed him by. In January 1865 a Brazilian army captured a Uruguayan stronghold and exe­cuted the Uruguayan officers. The Argentines and Uruguay­ans were both internally divided between indigenous Blancos and the cosmopolitan European Colorados. Brazil was angry at both Uruguay and Argentina. It was a scrum. López, with his unified country, could have made a move
and emerged as the region’s power broker. Only an exceptional person could unite all these factions. López was such a person: He suc­ceeded in uniting them all against him.

  In a curious move, he asked Argentina for permission to send an army through its country to help Uruguay. When Argentina said no, López beat the drum for war, and his people fell for it. Then on February 20, 1865, the Brazilian forces conquered Uruguay and installed a sympathetic Colo­rado government. With the Blancos in Uruguay defeated, the entire rationale for López’s fight with Brazil had ended, and he no longer needed to send troops across Argentina. To the rational mind this would have ended the entire affair, and a hasty and heartfelt apology along with a large fruit basket from López might have diffused the whole sordid business. López rejected the rational anything. Instead, on March 18 he turned on Argentina, who had rebuffed his request to let him help the now-defeated Blancos of Uruguay. López was on his way to a lifetime membership in the rarefied club of lunatic leaders hell-bent on total destruction.

  López launched his forces. On April 13 his navy captured two Argentine ships docked on the Paraná River outside of Corrientes, Argentina. The next day the Paraguayans cap­tured the town unopposed. The Argentines were furious, as they had not yet received the Paraguayan declaration of war. It was a sucker punch. The reaction was immediate in Buenos Aires; crowds took to the streets demanding re­venge, heaping scorn and bad names on the hated López. They beseeched President Mitre to take action, and he re­sponded with shouts that he would take Asunción in three months.

  And, perhaps more important, everyone in the region joined forces against López. The competing parties in Argen­tina put aside their differences and united. The same hap­pened in Uruguay. Brazil, already gearing up to punish López for his unprovoked attack on them, gladly accepted help from its two neighbors. All three countries were united as never before with one goal, eliminate López from the region. Through sheer idiotic cunning, López had turned divided countries into united allies focused on his destruction. He was truly a diplomatic idiot savant.

  At this point, all-out war took hold. Argentina and Brazil blocked arms from going upriver to Paraguay as the two countries joined hands. They cemented their relationship with the May 1 signing of the Treaty of the Triple Alliance, which, along with Uruguay, bound them to remove López from power, or from the earth. It was not a war against the people of Paraguay, or to take the country’s wealth or terri­tory, but simply to do away with one man. The war would end when López was gone. Little did they realize the diffi­culty of this mission. That summer, seizing the initiative with its larger army, López invaded south toward Uruguay in a lightning strike to defeat the Brazilian forces. López put most of his crack troops into this thrust. But the grand winning strategy cooked up by Paraguay’s dynamic duo hit a speed bump as the combined Uruguayan and Argentine army wiped out the ineptly led Paraguayans, who divided their forces on oppo­site sides of a Brazilian-controlled river, among other prob­lems. This battle crippled the striking force of López’s army, virtually destroying his 37,000 men. Anticipating victory, Madame Lynch had planned a ball requiring the ladies of society to wear all their jewels, so she could inventory their value. Word of the army’s defeat reached her just before the ball started. Rather than cancel the “victory” party, news of the crushing loss was kept secret. The party rolled on.

  In response to the failure in June 1865 López hustled off to take personal command of the army. Madame Lynch stayed behind as de facto head of the government. Her first act was to confiscate the jewels of Asunción’s leading ladies.

  Now the allies took the offensive. They marched north and retook the northern Argentine city of Corrientes. At this point, both the Argentines and Uruguayans felt satisfied and were willing to end the fight. They had pushed the invaders out and felt safe that López’s men would not return. But Brazil had other ideas. They smelled blood and had one goal: López. By now virtually almost all made up of Brazilians, the allies pushed on.

  While their offensive capabilities were severely limited, on the defensive the Paraguayans excelled. Their fighters were fanatical; their officers fought with extra zeal knowing that surrender meant execution of their families by López back home. Despite lack of equipment, shoes, and sporting noth­ing more than rags for uniforms, the loyal troops fought with tenacious bravery. The effect was exceptionally high casualty rates. The army was soon running out of men. So López started a new draft sweeping up boys over eleven years of age and those up to sixty into the fighting. Women worked the fields to support the war effort.

  GENERAL BARTHOLOME MITRE

  Perhaps no other person was as obsessed with López’s defeat as the president of Argentina, General Bartholome Mitre. He took com­mand of the still-evolving country in 1862. But his control was pre­carious as he faced strong opposition from his internal enemies, the Blancos. His refusal to allow López to march across Argentina provided the final spark that started the war during which he became commander of the allied forces. Despite the country’s bat­tlefield losses, the war united the country, and what was once a confederation of different areas became the modern country of Ar­gentina.

  A safe strategy for López would have been to continue on the defensive and force the allies to fight him around the stronghold of Humaitá, located at the high ground on a sharp bend in the Paraguay River, one of the stoutest and best-defended fortifications in the world. López, however, was not endowed with clear thinking. With the support of Madame Lynch, he suddenly lurched into the offensive with his remaining able forces, including a newly raised unit of Paraguayan nobles. On May 24, 1866, López threw for­ward about 20,000 soldiers. They suffered ruinous casual­ties at what became known as the Battle of Tuyuti. The nobleman unit was virtually wiped out. Overall, the Para­guayans suffered 5,000 soldiers dead and another 8,000 wounded.

  Rather than follow up with a quick thrust, the allies waited, building up their army. López emptied the hospitals and restocked the defenses with 20,000 of the walking wounded. And to encourage the others, López executed offi­cers who retreated.

  López, with Madame Lynch’s blessing, asked for a peace conference. Argentine president Mitre agreed to talk, and the two discussed a peace treaty for several hours in July 1866. Mitre’s main condition was that López abdicate and go into exile. López refused and since neither side would relent, the meeting adjourned. López left, convinced that all foreigners were out to get him, and thus began torturing and killing anyone he suspected of working with Mitre.

  The hesitant allies now settled in for a two-year siege of the Humaitá stronghold. Brazilian ironclads pushed up the Paraguay River and bombarded the fortress. López coun­tered with heavily armed canoes. Slowly, very slowly, the allies pushed through swamps and jungle in order to sur­round Humaitá. And as the allies closed in around his jungle stronghold, López slipped into madness. He arrested and tortured to death his brother-in-law for stealing money from the treasury that Madame Lynch had actually grabbed. He saw plots everywhere and encouraged Paraguayans to kill their neighbors if they saw any signs of treachery. Madame Lynch supported his paranoia; it was clear to her that the failures obviously stemmed from a well-entrenched conspir­acy, not the inevitable outcome of a deeply flawed strategy.

  By 1867 Paraguay had descended into total chaos with the entire economy devoted to supporting the dwindling army. Epidemics swept the population, farms lacked workers to harvest the meager crops, and what was harvested was taken for the army. To continue with the fight, Lynch ordered that all women between sixteen and forty be drafted into the army. She lightened their load by relieving them of any re­maining valuables and taking their homes.

  Finally, on July 26, 1868, the allies conquered Humaitá. López had long since decamped and set up his headquarters in the wilderness, starting the next phase of the war, a tena­cious, two-year jungle retreat. To mark the occasion of the defeat, López shot the garrison’s commander along with the wife and mother of the se
cond-in-command. He also took time out of his busy schedule to torture his little brother for his role in some fantasy conspiracy with the American am­bassador. It took a special visit from a U.S. warship to rescue the ambassador, held prisoner in his own home, from López’s executioner.

  López ordered the evacuation of the entire population, in­cluding Asunción. He led a convoy, with Madame Lynch and the children, and thousands of his troops — by now mostly children, walking wounded, and women — on a march north into the hinterlands. He stopped long enough to set up a new capital, torture and execute some enemies, and have a splen­did meal with Lynch. It was less a retreat than a caravan of lame circus performers heading slowly north, complete with piano and wine cellar. López, always one to spread family joy, locked his sisters in a special traveling cage and let them out long enough to each receive a lashing. Now, López and Lynch stumbled upon what they decided was the real reason for their military failures: López’s seventy-year-old mother, who had hid her anti-Paraguayan feelings behind a facade of age and frailty. She was caged, repeatedly flogged, and added to López’s execution list.

  By early 1869, despite the obvious challenges of moving an insane traveling caravan through the jungle, López and Lynch had managed to stay one step ahead of the Brazilian army. Frustrated at their inability to capture López, the Bra­zilian military leader, the Duke of Caxias, quit in a huff. In a moment of biting irony, he was replaced by the Comte d’Eu, the very man who married the Brazilian emperor’s daughter.