Lázaro Artola crawled atop the ledge. He and his men had trudged along trails choked by thick brush, trying to reach the town before the others. They successfully had avoided a plane buzzing over the mountains. Now, staring down the long road, he could see into the streets of Manicaragua, a dozen miles from the provincial capital of Santa Clara and a gathering point for soldiers.
Much of the city had been laid out in square blocks of old, ornate storefronts and high arching columns. People passed through narrow street corners. The stench of horses and trucks wafted through the air. Artola motioned for his men to get ready.
One by one, they fixed their rifles. Artola had one of the most disciplined columns in the Second Front, but this was dangerous work. He had no time to look for road mines, no time to take cover if the planes arrived.
“Move out!” he yelled.
Like clockwork, his men fanned out toward the town square. Some crawled along the storefronts, others jumped behind trees. Just as they reached the plaza, civilians popped their heads out from the shops, some even venturing out to the sidewalk. “Los soldados han desaparecido,” some said, waving their arms. The soldiers are gone.
The locals pointed to the road leading out of the city. The soldiers had packed up and left for Cienfuegos, they said, forty miles west. Artola discovered no one at the garrison. He had expected a fight, but the townspeople were telling the truth. The rebels had taken Manicaragua without any resistance.
Artola signaled for his messengers. His men would go to Cumanayagua and let the Second Front officers there know that the Manicaragua garrison belonged to the Second Front and that the government soldiers were heading to Cienfuegos. They probably were moving along the highway since they hated going into the mountains. Make haste.
Nearby, people came out onto the streets, erupting in cheers. The local farmers hated the government almost as much as the droughts that had killed their coffee plants. As his men shook hands with the people, Artola noticed another group of rebels entering the plaza. But they didn’t belong to the Second Front. They were Che’s men. At the head of the column was Directorio captain Raúl Nieves.
Nieves stopped for a moment and shook his head. Che would be disappointed. He had wanted the 26th of July to plant their flag in the ground here. The Second Front had beaten them.
In Cuba’s military headquarters in Havana, General Francisco Tabernilla Dolz stared grimly at the dispatches coming in from the Escambray: Fomento, Cumanayagua, Remedios, all critical garrison towns. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was early yet, but something in the mountains was starting to worry the top generals, including Tabernilla. First, there was Manicaragua. Not only had the town been taken without a fight, but the rebels had blocked off the area. Then the main rail line through the heart of the region had been cut at Zaza del Medio. Now Caibarién, forty-five miles northeast, had just surrendered to Che’s men, which meant the government had lost one of the key ports.
The army was learning that Che’s men would take one town and Menoyo’s men another. It was like a chess game. One swept through the central mountains and the other, the south. In any war, setbacks occur. But the army was losing ground on multiple fronts.
North of Cienfuegos, a rebel team led by Publio Ruiz, a young captain trained by Morgan, had overwhelmed the soldiers in a charge, killing several. At Yaguajay, the rebels led by Camilo Cienfuegos of the 26th of July Movement had stunned the army by surrounding the town and pinning the troops in their barracks.
Tabernilla was beside himself. “Two years of a prolonged campaign” were taking a toll, he said. But it wasn’t just the fatigue of war. The rebels were starting to show their experience.
For an entire year, they had been mapping and patrolling the mountains, which now allowed them to snake through the back roads and trails they had learned so well. Artola made it to Manicaragua in just a few hours. Morgan reached Cumanayagua before anyone else. Both rebel forces were linked by scores of messengers.
In all the months of fighting in the Escambray, the army never created permanent bases in the mountains. Towns such as Cumanayagua and Manicaragua remained vulnerable because the army had no significant presence.
Perhaps it was arrogance on the part of the military or a lack of any real concern on the part of the generals, but after reading the battle reports, Batista was disgusted. He stripped his commanders in the Escambray of their power and put in Colonel Joaquín Casillas Lumpuy to restore order. Batista then sent an armored train loaded with weapons.
He only hoped it wasn’t too late.