“What can we do?” Alberto asked.
“I know of men that fight the communists. They will not risk themselves for one man, even Marco, but for a price, for money to fund their resistance, they may assist us,” Enrico told Alberto who suddenly looked much older that he did moments before. Carmen began to sob quietly next to her husband. I felt helpless and I didn’t like it. I needed Marco’s mother and father to know why I was here and what was at stake.
“I love your son, Señor and Señora Fernandez, and he loves me. I owe him a debt beyond that, however, and I promise I will do anything to get him back but we can’t do it alone,” I said and then even though I wasn’t sure myself, not entirely anyway, I had to tell them the rest. “I carry Marco’s baby. I love him with all my heart,” I told them, saying what I had yet to even admit to myself. Enrico looked at me in shock. Alberto looked as if he might fall down and Carmen’s hand fell away from her face.
“Do you truly love my son?” Carmen asked.
“Yes, Señora,” I replied. Carmen smiled though her tears.
“Call me, mama,” she told me and then hugged me as she began to cry again.
“Enrico, anything you require is yours. Bring Marco back to us,” Alberto urged his son-in-law and then turned and walked to a painting on the wall behind him. He ran his hand under the frame, found a secret latch and swung the painting away from the wall to reveal a safe. He carefully dialed the combination and then opened the door. Alberto left the door open as he returned with a stack of bills and a revolver. “Take this. Pay whoever you must and bring Marco back. We will keep Nancy safe here,” Alberto said.
“No! I will go with him,” I said. I couldn’t stay and wait. I owed Marco. He saved me and now it was my turn to return the favor. There was no way I could stay in America and let Enrico take all the risk. I had to see this done.
“You are with child. If you were to...,” Carmen exclaimed but left the thought unsaid.
“I must. Marco saved me once and now it is my turn to save him. I can’t sit by and let Enrico do this alone. I will be careful, I promise, and I will bring your son, the man I love, home to you. I swear it,” I told them. Carmen took my hand and Alberto took me by the arms and kissed my cheek.
“We look forward to getting to know our new daughter once you and our son return,” he told me and then turned to Enrico. “Go and do what you must. Pay the resistance, bribe the police, whatever you must do,” Alberto told Enrico.
“I will, papa. We will bring your son home or we will...,”Enrico began to say but stopped. Carmen squeezed my hand and Alberto only nodded. They knew the stakes and so did I. Nothing was guaranteed. I would be in peril as would the new life I suspected was growing inside of me but without Marco, none of it mattered. I was going to come back with Marco or I wasn’t coming back at all.
~~~
Enrico and I left Alberto and Carmen’s house that night and went about preparing to depart for Cuba the next afternoon. We had to hurry and sleep was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Enrico hired a small boat and a captain, not unlike the fishing boat that brought us to America. The captain was an American that had lived in Cuba for a time. When we told him what we were about, he went into the cabin and returned with a box of cigars. They were Fernandez cigars.
“I go to Cuba for three things. The fishing, the spicy women and Fernandez cigars,” he told us. He went by the name of Sam and was a big, burly man with a salt and pepper beard, a bald head and tanned, leathery skin. “I know of where you speak and I know how to get in and out without the fucking commies finding out,” Sam told us after Enrico explained where we needed to go. Enrico knew the resistance had fled to the mountains outside of Havana. Batista loyalists, men like Marco and Enrico that desired a free Cuba and poor Cubans that understood what Castro stood for all had a common enemy now.
“You must meet us near the fort. Can you do that?” Enrico asked the man.
“I’m just a fisherman. I could sail into the harbor and moor my fucking boat if you want?” Sam assured us. He had no love for Castro and though he asked a hefty price to do as we wanted, Sam was all too happy to do it. Enrico and I slept on Sam’s boat after we secured some clothes that were more appropriate for the journey. I was still in my dress from the night before but that wouldn’t do for trekking through hills, fields and jungles of Cuba. If Enrico’s intelligence was right, it would be a three or four hour hike to where he was told the resistance was camped.
Later that afternoon we left the docks and headed south for Cuba. In January, even this far south, dusk came early and by the time we reached Cuba it was dark. We paralleled the coast under cover of darkness. Sam had turned off the running lights to hide us from prying eyes. “There! There is an inlet with a small beach. I can get you on to the shore without you even getting your tootsies wet,” Sam told us and turned the boat towards the coast.
Minutes later, he had beached the boat and Sam helped Enrico and me climb from the boat. As promised, our feet remained dry. “I will wait off shore, fishing, awaiting your signal. Good luck,” Sam told us.
“Thank you, Sam,” I replied. Enrico thanked him also and then we watched as Sam’s boat slid off the beach, slowly turned and disappeared into the night. I wasn’t sure what Enrico was feeling but I was frightened. I was also determined, however. My love for Marco overcame my fear but that didn’t mean I still didn’t feel it.
“Ready?” Enrico asked.
“I am,” I told him. I felt sick but I didn’t tell Enrico. Whether it was from the journey, the lack of real sleep or the baby growing inside of me, I wasn’t sure. The queasiness I felt may have been due to all three of those reasons or it could have simply been the situation I currently found myself in. Enrico and I headed up the beach and into the jungle beyond. He pulled a machete from his pack but he only occasionally needed to use it. The jungle wasn’t thick and soon we found ourselves faced with tobacco fields as the jungle gave way. We walked right through the tobacco field full of plants that were tall and nearing maturity.
“Are these Marco’s fields?” I wondered.
“No, the Fernandez fields are south of Havana mainly,” Enrico whispered over his shoulder. For three hours or so we trekked through fields, navigated the jungle and hiked up and down hills. Thankfully, the night was relatively cool and Enrico let me rest often enough. I wasn’t used to this kind of travel and the nausea I felt wasn’t helping.
“Here, drink some water,” Enrico said as we rested at the edge of a tobacco field. He offered me the canteen he carried. I took some water and it made me feel better almost as soon as it hit my tongue.
“Thank you,” I told him.
“Can you make it?” he asked me.
“Yes. I must,” I replied. Enrico nodded and smiled.
“Then we must go,” he said as I stood. The water he gave me helped and the queasiness wasn’t so bad. Enrico took the canteen from me, hung it on his shoulder and then we continued. We hadn’t walked a hundred yards when several men stepped from the jungle and confronted us. They told us to halt and raise our hands in Spanish. They didn’t seem particularly alarmed, however, as a single man and a nauseas woman probably weren’t considered a major threat. They demanded to know our business and Enrico replied in Spanish.
“We seek the resistance to ask them for help,” Enrico told the men. I was worried he was revealing our intent to men that were loyal to Castro but Enrico must’ve known what he was doing.
“Who are you? What kind of help?” the man replied. Enrico told him what had transpired and what our intentions were. The men looked us over and then asked, “There are no others?”
“No,” Enrico answered. The man appeared to be considering his options but finally he turned and gestured for us to follow. Just minutes later, we arrived in a small camp. Thick trees and camouflage netting hid the camp from view and beyond men sat on crates and boxes, smoking cigars and drinking rum. The sentries that had discovered us led us to a tent and then took us inside. They
told the man who sat within the tent what we had told them and then the man stood to regard us. He looked us over and then spoke to us in English.
“You are American, no?” he asked me.
“Yes, I am. I am Nancy Cartwright,” I replied.
“I am Ricardo Gonzalez. I lead these men,” he told us and came to shake our hands. Ricardo wore green military fatigues and black boots. Enrico introduced himself. “Sit,” Ricardo offered. We took seats on crates, Enrico took off his pack and Ricardo sat on a wooden chair facing us. “My men tell me you seek our help. We are not in a position to help anyone. We are lucky to avoid the communists ourselves and not starve in the process,” Ricardo told us. He was speaking in the same way Meyer Lansky had, saying things without saying them.
“We understand but we must ask,” Enrico told him and then explained our situation. Ricardo listened as Enrico told him the story and what we wanted from him. He nodded at times. When Enrico finished, Ricardo considered his words.
“I know Marco Fernandez and have heard of his capture. He has been tried and will be hanged in the morning,” Ricardo told us. I gasped at the words. “I am sorry, but there is little we can do. They hold him at La Cabana, the fortress by the sea,” Ricardo told us. La Cabana stood next to the harbor behind Morro Castle. We had heard rumors that Che Guevara was in charge there, trying men for supposed crimes against Cuba and executing them.
“We suspected they held him there. We have a boat waiting to take us to America but we cannot free Marco ourselves. We need your help,” Enrico told Ricardo.
“Marco is a good man. I assume you are his wife?” Ricardo asked me.
“Not yet and maybe never if you don’t help us,” I told him and Ricardo sighed.
“I wish to help you. I do. I wish to help all the Cuban people and save them from the brutality that they already suffer and will suffer in the future under Castro and his communist thugs, but I cannot. I cannot risk my men and the little supplies we have for one man. I cannot,” Ricardo told us and I heard the frustration in his voice. I’d heard it when Marco spoke of Castro’s victory on the night he was captured. Marco desired to help his country and her people but he couldn’t. Ricardo could though and I needed to convince him to do so.
I stood up and took Enrico’s pack. I reached in a pulled the stacks of bills from it, all of the money we still carried, and tossed it at Ricardo. He caught the stacks and his eyes went wide as he realized just how much money was there. After staring at the cash for a moment, Ricardo looked up to regard us and his demeanor had changed. His mind was open to our plea suddenly but I had to close the deal.
“That’s from Marco’s parents. They will pay whatever it takes. I know Marco wishes to see Castro defeated. He feels he failed to take action before Batista fled and now he has lost the chance. But Marco is a man of means and ambition. There is more where that came from. I swear to you,” I told Ricardo hoping he would change his mind. He looked at the pile of money he held and then back at me.
“How do I know that the Fernandez family will do as you promise? You ask me and my men to risk our lives,” he told us. Enrico looked to me also. I guess this was my show now.
“Marco loves me and I love him. He trusts me and if I promise that Marco will help you, he will see it done,” I declared. Ricardo looked at the money one more time and then he lifted his head as he stood.
“With this, I can do much to hurt Castro. With more, I might defeat him and free Cuba. I would not mind teaching Castro and his butcher Che Guevara a lesson. We will do it. I trust you and I know Marco to be a man of honor,” Ricardo said and then called a man to come into the tent and ordered him to make ready to move out within the hour. Then he shook one of the bundles of money he held in his hand and told the man that Castro was finished.
“Cuba libre!” the man replied. Ricardo and Enrico responded in kind.
“Cuba libre, my friends,” I told them and the man dashed from the tent to call the men of the resistance to action.
~~~
~14~
Several hours later, Ricardo Gonzalez, Enrico and I crouched in a copse trees near the La Cabana fortress. With us, twenty men waited for orders as Ricardo scanned the fort with his binoculars. We had hiked down from the camp and then taken several trucks that were used to haul tobacco to Havana about fifteen miles away. We left the trucks along the coast and walked the rest of the way under cover of darkness. I no longer felt sick now that I had hope to hang on to.
Ricardo called two of his lieutenants to him and he laid out a plan for them to execute. The men, despite the danger, were eager. Not only because of the money Enrico and I had offered but to deal Castro and his regime a blow. These men were eager for a victory. The two men moved out and took their teams cautiously towards the fort as we watched. They were armed with rifles, grenades and some larger explosives, all either pilfered in the confusion after Batista fled or American arms provided to the resistance to oppose the communists.
“We will wait here and observe. Where is your boat?” Ricardo asked.
“Off shore, fishing. We have a light to send a signal and then it will come to the fort,” Enrico told him. Ricardo nodded. We could see the Caribbean behind us and the lights from a lone boat that we assumed was Sam. Time passed slowly as we waited. For nearly a quarter hour after the men had disappeared from our view we heard and saw nothing. Then suddenly, the night sky was brightened by an explosion on the far side of the fort. Men began yelling and gunshots rang out. I looked to Ricardo and Enrico. Enrico put a hand on my shoulder.
“It won’t be long now,” he told me. I hoped he was right.
“Each man has two rifles or carries a rifle and a pistol. They will give the prisoners they free a gun and they will join the fight. They will fight hard because their life depends on it,” Ricardo told us. For several minutes, the battle was waged unseen inside the fortress. I felt ill again but now I was sure it was the fear I felt. Spotlights illuminated the interior of the fortress and it seemed the gunfire intensified. The night was alive with battle.
Suddenly, men ran free of the fortress and for a moment I was sure the resistance had been defeated. “Those are prisoners escaping,” Ricardo assured us. His men still fought within the fortress. Another explosion shook the fortress. I had never seen battle like this. I’d never seen it in any fashion. It was frightening knowing men, whether friend or foe, were dying just beyond my vision. But more than anything, I just hoped that Marco was not one of the men that were killed.
The minutes dragged by and my hope faltered despite my efforts to remain optimistic. Then Ricardo grabbed my arm, startling me. He pointed, “There!” Several of his men ran our way, a tall man in a tuxedo following. Suddenly, a soldier appeared and fired on them, the bullet whizzing over our heads. Ricardo reached for his rifle but Enrico already had a bead on the soldier. He fired the pistol Alberto had given him and the soldier dropped to his knees and then fell forward, dead. Marco and the resistance fighters tumbled in amongst us as more of the resistance fighters came into view, firing their guns back towards the fort.
“Marco!” I shouted and then he was there, his arms around me.
“Nancy, I was sure I would never see you again. Enrico, my friend and brother, thank you,” Marco said and shook Enrico’s hand. Enrico embraced us but Ricardo broke up our reunion.
“We must go! These men and I will see you safely to the boat that waits,” Ricardo told us. We got to our feet and Enrico grabbed the light to signal Sam to bring the boat. We ran towards the water on the far side of the fortress but neither Enrico nor I could see the lights from Sam’s boat any longer.
“Where is he?” Enrico shouted as he shined the flashlight out to sea while we ran. We made it to the edge of the seawall that lined the entrance to the harbor and scanned the horizon. No lights could be seen and the sky to the east was already beginning to brighten.
“Where is your boat?” Ricardo demanded.
“I don’t know,” I replied. The
battle had spilled from the fortress and I turned to see men fighting hand to hand, bodies strewn about and the flash of gunfire.
“We must go!” Ricardo told us.
“No, we must wait. We have to leave Cuba,” Enrico told him.
“That will be difficult without a boat,” Ricardo told him. Suddenly, the two men that guarded us fired on guards from the fortress. Those men died but we’d been spotted. “We must go,” Ricardo told us again more firmly. Then we heard a horn and from behind us a fishing boat appeared and slid close to the sea wall.
“Get in!” Sam shouted. We moved to the wall and Enrico jumped down into the boat and then reached for me. Bullets whizzed over our heads and one of Ricardo’s men went down. I began to climb into the boat as Ricardo’s man defended us.
“Careful,” he told me and Marco helped to lower me into the boat. I smiled up at him glad to see him alive. Ricardo and his remaining man traded gunfire with men from the fort. My feet found the deck of the boat and I looked up only to see Marco fall into the boat and land at my feet.
“Marco!” I shouted. Sam had produced a very large handgun and fired over our heads at the soldiers from the fort as Ricardo and his man did the same. Die, fucking commie bastards!” Sam yelled as he emptied his revolver at the soldiers. Marco grabbed his arm and it was bloodied.
“I am fine. We must go!” Marco shouted. Sam fired the last round from his revolver and Enrico took over with Alberto’s revolver as Sam pushed the throttle and his boat leaped from the water and sped towards the Caribbean.
“Do not forget your promise,” Ricardo yelled as he turned to run.
“We won’t, my friend!” I shouted and then Enrico was hit by a bullet. He fell to the deck blood staining his shirt.
“No!” Marco yelled as he rushed to his brother’s aid. Enrico’s face was drawn and he coughed up blood. I knelt next to the men as Marco held Enrico in his arms. Sam looked down from the helm. We were out of danger now but Enrico was dying.
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