16. “Watch Out, They Could Execute You . . .”

Meanwhile, the bus filled with prisoners picked up in Florida has headed southwest. It leaves the district of Vicente López and enters that of San Martín. The behavior of the guards escorting them is proper, which is to say indifferent. Some of the prisoners talk to each other.

—Why do you think they’ve taken us? —one asks.

—What do I know . . . —another answers.— Probably for playing cards.

—Something doesn’t smell right. The big guy said something about a revolution.

Mr. Horacio and Giunta are the most baffled of all. Because they weren’t even playing cards. Gavino, who doesn’t know them but could enlighten them, keeps quiet. Dazed and disheveled, wiping the blood away from his lip, he does know why they have been taken.

They arrive in San Martín and, leaving behind the station and the main square, stop in front of a building on Nueve de Julio Street with armed guards at the door. Some have already figured out where they are. They are at the District Police Department. The trip has lasted less than twenty minutes.

They stay seated in the bus for twenty minutes, maybe even half an hour more before they are told to get off. They see people leaving the nearest movie theater. Passersby look at them curiously. There are no signs of unrest anywhere.

At 12:11 a.m. on June 10, 1956, State Radio surprisingly resumes its broadcast on the official station, airing a selection of light music for the next twenty-one minutes. It is the first official sign that something serious is happening in the country.

In the meantime, the fateful house in Florida comes to claim two unexpected victims. Julio Troxler and Reinaldo Benavídez stop by looking for a friend who they think is there. They do nothing more than walk down the corridor and ring the bell at the back apartment—which is strangely silent and dark—before the door suddenly opens and a sergeant and two guards appear, pointing their guns at them.

Though surprised, Julio Troxler hardly bats an eye. He is a tall, athletic man who will demonstrate an extraordinary calm at every turn that night.

Troxler is twenty-nine years old. Two of his brothers are in the Army, one of whom carries the rank of major. He himself might feel a certain military calling, which he channels poorly, seeing how he ends up joining the Police Department of the Province of Buenos Aires. He is strict and austere, but still, he does not tolerate the “methods”—the brutality—that he is expected to employ, so he resigns when Peronism is in full bloom. From then on, he throws his discipline and his ability to work into technical studies. He reads as many books and magazines as he can find on specializations that interest him—motors, electricity, refrigeration. He actually begins to do quite well for himself with a refrigerator repair shop that he sets up in Munro.

Troxler is a Peronist, but he doesn’t talk much politics. Those who tried to describe him suggested that he is an extremely laconic and pensive man who resists arguments at all costs. One thing’s for sure: he is familiar with the police and knows how to deal with them.

The description we can give of Reinaldo Benavídez is even more superficial. Average height, around thirty years old, he has an honest and pleasant face. At that time he is co-running a grocery store in Belgrano and living with his parents. Something incredible is going to happen to Benavídez, something that, even on this night of extraordinary events and experiences, seems as though it was taken from some outrageous novel. But we’ll come back to that.

By an extraordinary coincidence—which will come up again later—Julio Troxler knows the sergeant who is facing him and pointing his gun at him. That may be why they have both stood still for a moment, observing each other.

—What happened? —Troxler asks.

—I don’t know. I’ve got to take you both with me.

—What do you mean you’ve got to take me with you? Don’t you remember me?

—Yes, sir. But I’ve got to take you with me. I have my orders.

The sergeant steps away for a moment. He goes to the apartment in front to ask for instructions over the phone. The two detained men are left alone with the guards. It’s true that they are unarmed, but if they set themselves to the task, they may be able to overpower them and escape. Hours later, in more difficult, nearly impossible circumstances, both of them will act with exceptional decisiveness and sangfroid. At the moment, they are calm. Clearly they don’t suspect anything too serious.

And they let themselves be taken away, just like that.

All police stations have been in a state of alarm since earlier in the day. In his office at Florida’s Second Precinct, Captain Pena has tuned in the receiver.

At precisely 12:32 a.m., State Radio interrupts the chamber music to announce, across all the stations in the country, that a communiqué from the Presidential Press Secretary’s Office will be read, declaring two decrees.

The dramatic announcement is as follows:

“Since the situation caused by elements that are disruptive of public order is forcing the provisional government to adopt appropriate measures with calm energy to ensure public tranquility in the whole territory of the Nation and to continue to meet the goals of the Liberating Revolution,15 it is decided that the provisional President of the Argentine Nation, exercising his Legislative Power, declares as law:

“Article Number 1 – Let martial law be in effect throughout the entire territory of the Nation.

“Article Number 2 – The current decree-law will be endorsed by his Excellency the Provisional Vice President of the Nation and by the ministers: secretaries of the State, the Airforce, the Army, the Navy, and the Interior.

“Article Number 3 – Pro forma.

“Signed: Aramburu, Rojas, Hartung, Krause, Ossorio Arana and Landaburu.”16

The second decree, taking into account the fact that martial law “constitutes a measure whose application the public must be made aware of,” lays out the rules and circumstances according to which the law will be put into practice.

The captain has just finished listening to the announcement when they bring him the two prisoners. Just like the sergeant, the captain is surprised to see Troxler, whom he knows and likes.

—What are you doing here?

Troxler smiles, shrugging his shoulders, and explains what happened without making a big deal of it. It must have been a mistake . . . They talk for a few minutes. Then the captain gets a phone call.

—They want you at the Department —then he adds:— Hey, watch out, they could execute you . . . They declared martial law just a minute ago.

The two of them laugh.

But the captain is worried.

Footnotes:

15 DG: The Liberating Revolution began as a movement run by General Lonardi (see Note 5), who wanted to rid Argentina of Peronism’s corruption and economic policies while also reconciling with the traditionally Peronist unions. Less than two months after assuming power, Lonardi was forced to resign because his policies were considered insufficiently anti-Peronist. A more staunchly anti-Peronist General Aramburu took control of the Liberating Revolution in November 1955. The regime came to an end in 1958, when elections were held and Arturo Frondizi, of the Radical Civil Union party, triumphed (see Note 10).

16 DG: Teodoro Hartung, Julio César Krause, Arturo Ossorio Arana, and Laureano Landaburu were all ministers in President Aramburu’s cabinet. For Aramburu and Rojas, see Note 5.