Freedom Fighters

40. Santa Clara III: Finale

31st December 1958
Santa Clara, Cuba

"Loaded!" Marco shouted once he loaded the round onto the rocket launcher. 

Lionel unclasped the safety catch and tugged the rocket launcher more snugly on his shoulder, ensuring his aim was true. In one swift motion, he stood up, revealing himself to the tank ahead. Before the tank's barrel could focus upon him, Lionel fired the explosive round which detonated beautifully upon the tank's crude metallic structure. A violent flame burst out and the whole tank seemed to shake with it, before ceasing to move.

"Wow," Dario uttered, amazed at the rocket launcher's destructive power, thankful that they had taken a few from the derailed train.

As the flames on the tank's carcass burned on, the gunshots from the revolutionaries intensified. However, the enemy soldiers, seeing their tank destroyed, lost heart and retreated from the dusty neighbourhood. 

"Looks like they are all gone," Lionel reported, scanning the area through the picket fence behind which he hid himself. 

Dario nodded and called out for his signaler, an eager youth by the name of Jorge, who sprinted forward, handing his commander the receiver that connected to the signal set in his backpack. 

"Dario to Che. Dario to Che."

The line crackled for a bit, before Che's voice answered. "Send your message."

"My squad has captured the Lorda neighbourhood."

"Good. Very good. The Western parts of the city are falling like dominoes too. They are breaking. Looks like it's time for a final push. Gather your men, and start pushing down the main road towards the city center. The police station there is where their headquarters is located."

"Roger."

He handed the receiver back to Jorge who tucked it back into his backpack. Dario took out his map, turned to his able deputies, the Almeidas. He sat down and leaned his back against the wall of the house behind him. The twins knelt down, ready to listen. 

"So we have to make a final push down this road. See, it leads to the city center..." he said as he traced his finger down the white line turning into a triangular expanse that contained the police station. 

The Almeidas listened with intense expressions as Dario described his plans for advance. "So, I was thinking that we must ensure that we do not get trapped in the middle, especially when there are probably tanks still remaining. Perhaps we could split off and have a squad do-"

"Artillery! Artillery!" someone screamed, and wails of panic suddenly filled the air.

Dario spared a quick look up, only to find a mass of black projectiles flying up in the sky start to dip, and fall towards them. 

He scrambled to get into a lying position, covering his ears, bracing for impact. The artillery shells roared as they fell in a barrage of explosions, hitting houses indiscriminately. The sound was ear-splitting. Immediately after the burst of detonation came a crumbling of concrete. A shell had landed on the house right beside Dario, whose throat was paralysed by fear. Cracks erupted out of the walls of the two-storey house, before it tilted and crumbled before them. 

Dario, being positioned just right beside the base of the wall, was able to avoid most of the falling blocks of concrete. However, he looked on with frozen horror at his friends. Lionel and Macro Almeida, strong burly men built like bricks, could only watch blankly as a wave of concrete collapsed upon them, smothering them underneath a pile of grey dust, till they could not be seen anymore. 

"Marco! Lionel!" The names of his friends came out of his throat in stricken cries of dismay as he feared the worst. 

The barrage of artillery shells had ended, and many of the buildings in the neighbourhood had been reduced to piles of rubble. Dario scrambled to the pile in front of him which stood at least twice his height, and began lugging out any blocks of concrete he could. A part of his mind blocked out the very real fear that his friends, who had been with him since the very inception of his journey in Miami, could be dead.