Freedom Fighters

34. Siege

July 1958
Sierra Maestra, Cuba

Dario listened intently as Fidel detailed his plan for the defense. The leader of the Movement pointed to the map as his commanders huddled around him. His clear voice contained not a single hint of hesitation or doubt. 

"So Che, you take your column and station here," Fidel said as he waved his finger over a spot near a town held by Batista's army. "Prevent any reinforcements from getting through."

Che nodded in acknowledgement of his assignment. "Simple enough. I shall do that."

"Fidel," Camilo interrupted while showing an easy smile. "Don't you think that this Cantillo person is not particularly bright? Another direct attack on our positions isn't going to cut it. It's the fourth time already and we have all our mines, blocks and strategies ready for the same kind of frontal attack. Is he out of his mind, wasting more resources to do the same thing?"

Eulogio Cantillo, Dario thought of the name with cold apathy. The new general appointed by President Batista to lead the army against the rebels after General Ortega died a year ago. Far more aggressive than his predecessor, he led three attacks against the rebels' positions during that one year, and during the uneasy periods of truces in between, transferred more forces to this area of Cuba. 

In that one year though, the Movement has grown in strength and numbers. Fidel's call for revolution was heard throughout the island, and disillusioned young men travelled to the Sierra Maestra to answer his call. Still, numbering just a few hundred, it was nothing compared to the vast numbers of the Cuban army forces surrounding the mountain range. 

"Perhaps he is not the most tactically able person," Fidel commented. "But given his position, he should still make attempts to attack us, given that he was assigned here personally by Batista himself. Inaction is the worst policy. But we will see. Let's not get too confident, yes? Win this battle once again and we can call him an idiot at the end of it."

"Of course," Camilo replied with a wry smile.

"So, to continue, Rául, you take your column and meet the enemy battalion here and-"

"Urgent! Urgent!" a frantic voice shouted from behind. Everybody turned around to see a blur of shadow, sprinting towards them, drawing in all sorts of attention from all the nearest revolutionaries. 

He bowed over, panting when he stopped before Fidel Castro. 

"Rene?" Camilo uttered. "What are you doing here?"

"What is it?" Fidel asked in a strained voice that suggested a hint of fear. He turned to Camilo. "Is he your man?" 

"Yes," Camilo answered, frowning. 

The youth from Camilo's column looked up, eyes all wide. He looked to be not a year older than twenty. "I have urgent news that had to be delivered straight here. We were patrolling near the beach at the river fork down south when we saw boats. Lots of them. They are doing an amphibious landing."

The air turned quiet as a graveyard in the command tent. Needless to say, the news brought forth by Camilo's scout was not good at all. 

"The area down South is not prepared for defense. We haven't laid the mines and set up the blockades," Che broke the silence. "It will be a gruesome fight."

"Yes, I agree," Rául spoke. "We probably have to devote a lot of men from our northern defense."

"Rene," Fidel addressed the messenger. "How large of a force did you see?"

The youth thought for a moment, before answering. "It was a lot. I think a battalion's worth."

Fidel nodded, soaking in the answer with an impeccably straight face. He then said, "Rene, you can go now. Thank you for rushing here to deliver the message. You have performed a great service."