Thirteen Days in October: The Cuban Missile Crisis

"Generations to come may well count John Kennedy's resolve as one of the decisive moments of the 20th century. For Kennedy determined to move forward at whatever risk. And when faced by that determination, the bellicose Premier of the Soviet Union first wavered, then weaseled and finally backed down."
From: The Backdown, Nov. 02, 1962

Sometime late in 1960 or early 1961 (I can't recall), the state mass media started reporting an imminent threat from the United States. Everyone was speaking of an invasion, but we had no clue when or where. I lived in Guanajay, then in the Pinar del Río province (Castro has since changed it to the province of La Habana). My house was on the "carretera central" or main highway connecting La Habana with the rest of the interior to the west. I was in "Escuela Secundaria Básica," what you would call high school in the U.S. It was also on this main highway. I walked to school daily (3 kilometers), and we started noticing an increase in military vehicles, especially some we had never seen before. By February or March of 1961, small Russian tanks (I don't know what kind, but they were very noisy) started moving through our town's main street, going east. Most of the time it was at night, but I do remember seeing them during the day. My classmates and I would run after them, as we were astonished to see these machines. At around the same time, there were sudden blackouts beginning at 9:00 p.m. or so, and most people just stayed home. These coincided with a lot of traffic, mainly huge machines of the type you use for highway construction, tractors, and many military trucks. I was always curious about these vehicles, and often went out to see them, which infuriated my mother. Although there was no government warning to stay off the streets, somehow we knew we weren't supposed to notice this daily caravan. It was as if nothing was going on. This seemed ridiculous to everyone, since buildings shook as these vehicles went by. In April, I believe, the state imposed a "toque de queda" (curfew) beginning at 8:00 p.m. At the same time, the main road going west (to the adjacent beach town of Mariel, in particular) was closed. The word on the street was that Fidel Castro had ordered the construction of a "super highway" with six lanes, which would replace the much smaller main highway. We thought this was madness, as in our part of the island there was no need for such a project. Very few people had cars, and this seemed rather odd. I remember my father telling me that the true reason for this construction was the creation of a huge military airport, with very wide and long landing strips. But why here? In the meantime, the CDRs started a "people's education campaign" to prepare us for the imminent invasion. The CDR (Comité de Defensa de la Revolución) was basically someone's house in every block, with a "civil agent" of the government who was in charge of organizing activities, serve as liaison with the local government, etc. In reality, these were hard core "revolucionarios" who watched every move made by those who lived in that particular block. The CDR representative started visiting homes, under the guise of checking if we had proper housing. We found out later that, in reality, they were trying to find out who had short wave radios. At the time, these were our only contact with the outside world, mainly via The Voice of America. If they found such a radio, they would confiscate it. We had one, but my father hid it among his barrels of honey (he was a beekeeper) when we were visited. Listening to the La Voz de las Américas became a state crime, so we had to listen only at night, in the back of the house, at low volume. That is, whenever we had electricity. Curiously, one day we couldn't get the station at all, and my father explained that something must be blocking it. We were also afraid that the government could detect this, so we stopped using that radio. Therefore, the only news we had from then on came from state media. At this time, our town was visited by hundreds of soldiers (all of them from somewhere else in the island), and they measured streets, checked constructions of buildings, and put up signs here and there saying "Con cautela" (with caution). A few days later, traffic increased at night, and soldiers were posted everywhere, including side streets. We were informed that for reasons of state security, we had to stay home, and away from doors and windows. My family respected this, but my curiosity was too much. I did peek, and saw very large trucks, most of them covered with olive green tarps. The shapes seemed to be cylindrical, at times one, at other times two or three of them. They moved very slowly, which afforded me a good look at the cargo. One time I could clearly see what in my mind was a spaceship, or rocket. The tips of these things were red, with some type of symbol or lettering I could not make out. At other times, the trucks were carrying square things, very large, also covered. Each of of these enormous vehicles had an escort of soldiers in trucks; sometimes their weapons were pointed at the sidewalks. This went on for weeks. Suddenly, by July or August (I can't remember), this traffic stopped. However, all main roads going east and west were closed. Beginning in September, things became increasingly horrifying. From my house, I could see flood lights searching the sky, and occasional gun fire. These increased, and I remember marvelling at the light patterns made in the dark sky by anti-artillery fire. I guess I was too young to realize the seriousness of this, but I recall my mother would burst into tears and grab the first picture of Jesus she could find and pray. One day in October, I don't know exactly, one of my aunts and I decided to visit a relative just a few blocks from my house. Suddenly, the lights went out, and all hell broke lose. We didn't know what to do, but my aunt said that my mother would kill her if she didn't return me home. So, we left that house in total darkness, and began walking slowly. It was just too dark to walk any faster. In a matter of seconds, the sky was illuminated by all sorts of lights, and we heard aircraft engines almost above our heads. There were explosions, anti-artillery fire, a lot of smoke in the sky, and we could actually see a few aircraft flying abou us. We were horrified. My aunt knocked on a few doors, seeking refuge, but no one would let us in. She decided to make a run for my house, and all I remember was the pain I felt in my hand, so hard was she holding on to me. We finally made it home, in the midst of more explosions and gunfire in the distance, coming from the east. It took a while, but my father finally opened the door. My family was in the back of the house, my mother hanging on to a picture of a saint to whom she was very devoted. The building shook, and someone thought we should go across the street where there was a large, solid building. However, with all the commotion outside, we decided to stay at home. I was placed under a sink, with a piece of wood in my mouth. We had been instructed to do that in case of bombings, and I can still taste the wood. After an hour or so, silence. An hour later, the electricity came back on. We had no clue if this had been an invasion, if the U.S. forces had taken over the government, or anything. My last recollection of that evening is funny to me now. In the confusion and melée, everyone forgot about me under the sink. I was so terrified, I didn't move and continued biting that piece of wood as hard as I could. Eventually, someone came to get me. I had bitten the wood so hard, they had trouble getting the piece out of my mouth, which was by then bleeding. In the next few days, we were informed by radio of what had happened, from the government's point of view. Nothing was said about nuclear warheads, missiles, the Soviet Union and Kennedy, etc.