Far from there, the real uprising is now raging furiously.
In June of 1956, the Peronists that had been overthrown nine months earlier staged their first serious attempt to regain power through a revolt led by military officers, with some active civilian support.
The proclamation signed by Generals Valle and Tanco explained the root of the uprising by giving an exact description of the state of things. The country, it claimed, “is living under a harsh and merciless tyranny”; people are being persecuted, imprisoned, and exiled; the “majority party” is being excluded from public life; people are living under the “totalitarian monstrosity” of Decree 4161 (which prohibited even mentioning Perón); the Constitution has been abolished so as to get rid of article 40, which prevented “the surrender of public services and natural resources to international capitalism”; the aim is to subject workers to “the will of capitalism” through starvation, and “to have the country regress to its most ruthless colonial period by handing over its most basic economic resources to international capitalism.”
Stated in 1956, this was not just accurate: it was prophetic. Valle’s proclamation was unusual in its lack of hypocrisy. It did not make the usual pleas for Western and Christian values or any jabs at communism, but it also did not overlook the attack on unions by “elements known for agitating in the service of ideologies or international interests.”
Compared to this analysis, the policy portion of the proclamation was weak. It sacrificed, perhaps inevitably, ideological content for emotional impact. In short, it proposed a considered return to Peronism and Perón by transparent means: elections within no more than 180 days, with all political parties participating. The economic policy of the platform, unsurprisingly, contradicted its previous criticism by assuring that there would be “full guarantees for foreign capital that is either already invested or will be invested,” etc.
The proclamation illustrated the two elements that characterized Peronism in those early days of the resistance: first, it had a clear ability to perceive the ills that it suffered due to its being the popular majority party; second, it was remarkably ambiguous when it came to diagnosing the causes, to turning itself into a true revolutionary movement, and to leaving campaign slogans and pretty words to the enemy once and for all.
Of course Valle acted, and gave his life, which means more than words ever could. Understanding his actions is easier today than it was ten years ago; it will be even easier in the future. Valle’s figure will continue to grow and take the place it deserves in the people’s memory, together with the conviction that his movement’s success would have saved the country the shameful phase that followed, this second década infame that we are now living in.13
The story of the uprising is short. Less than twelve hours pass between the time that the operations begin to when the last rebel group is defeated.
In Campo de Mayo, the rebels—led by colonels Cortínez and Ibazeta—have taken control of both the NCO academy infantry group and the services group of the first armored division. The occupation of the NCO academy fails after a short shoot-out, though, and the attack is left isolated.14
At eleven o’clock at night, a group of NCOs revolt in the Army Mechanics School, but have to retreat after a shoot-out.
In Avellaneda, in the surrounding area of the Second Military Region Command, rebels and policemen engage in two or three skirmishes. The police arrest some of the rebels. Next they burst into the Industrial School and surprise Lieutenant Colonel José Irigoyen, who is with a group trying to set up a command there for Valle and a secret transmitter. The repression is devastating. Eighteen civilians and two military officers are sent to a summary court-martial in the Lanús District Police Department. Six of them will be executed: Irigoyen, Captain Costales, Dante Lugo, Osvaldo Albedro, and two brothers, Clemente and Norberto Ros. Leading this operation is the second-in-command at the district police department, Lieutenant Commander naval pilot Salvador Ambroggio. Chief Inspector Daniel Juárez is the one administering the coups de grâce at will. For the purposes of intimidation, the government announced at daybreak that eighteen people had been executed.
In La Plata, a bomb thrown at a shoe store downtown appears to be the sign the rebels are waiting for. In the Seventh Regiment, Captain Morganti calls the company under his command to action. Groups of civilians take over the telephone exchanges. Astounded passersby along the main streets see a number of Sherman tanks go by, followed by troops in armored trucks that are headed at full speed to the Second Division Command and the police station. There are barely twenty guards, not well-armed, at the station. Not even the police chief or second-in-command are there: the former is inspecting Mr. Horacio di Chiano’s furniture in Florida, and the latter is leading the repression in Avellaneda and Lanús.
The most spectacular battle of the entire attempt at rebellion is about to begin. Around a hundred thousand shots will be fired, according to an unofficial calculation. There will be a half-dozen killed and some twenty wounded. But the rebel forces, whose superiority in terms of military equipment at first seems overwhelming, will not come away with even the most fleeting success.
Ninety-nine out of every hundred people in the country are unaware of what’s going on. In the very same city of La Plata, where the shooting continues incessantly all night long, there are many who keep sleeping and only find out about it the following morning.
At 11:56 p.m. State Radio, the official voice of the Nation, stops playing Stravinsky and puts on the marching song that they usually use to end their programming. The voice of the announcer bids his listeners goodnight until the following day at the usual time. At midnight the broadcast is interrupted. All of this is confirmed on page fifty-one of State Radio’s registry book of announcers that was in use at the time and is signed by the announcer Gutenberg Pérez.
Not a word has been uttered about the subversive events of the night. Not even the slightest allusion has been made to martial law, which, like any law, must be declared and publicly announced before coming into effect.
Therefore, at midnight on June 9, 1956, nowhere in the Nation’s territory is martial law in effect.
But it has already been applied. And it will be applied later to men who were arrested before it was instated, and without the excuse—like the one they had in Avellaneda—that they had been caught with weapons in hand.
Footnotes:
13 DG: Década Infame (The Infamous Decade) refers to the thirteen years between the military coups that ousted President Hipólito Yrigoyen in 1930 and President Ramón Castillo in 1943, respectively. The term was coined by Argentine historian and writer José Luis Torres, who characterized the period as plagued by state corruption, corporatization and privatization, popular flight from rural areas, and an ever-increasing national deficit. Walsh considers the possibility here of a second década infame.
14 A detailed account of the operations and the repression that followed can be found in the book Martyrs and Executioners by Salvador Ferla, published in 1964.