Bautista's Reign Destroyed

Carlos shook the dirt off his shirt as he took off his boots and laid them next to the door. As he entered, the aroma of a warm home surrounded him. He sat down, tired as usual, and took a sip of the warm coffee waiting for him. The day's work had exhausted him more than usual, but the help of his father was sufficient to at least make him feel better. Spending time with anyone from his family was always something he enjoyed, even if it was just working on the sugar cane farms together. He turned on the radio as he brushed the dirt off his brown hair. Again he heard the voice of a man most Cubans couldn’t stand: Batista’s. He, like several other Cubans hated the fact that their beautiful land was ruled by such a corrupt man. Carlos and his family had been living for years near the farm lands where they grew sugar canes, striving to survive in the unjust world Batista had set up for them. Batista was again speaking against those rebels, like Castro, and how even if they did try to take him from command they would kill them. Of course he didn’t talk about the battles Che and Castro led that were definitely beating him and his army. Christian, Carlos’ little brother, had just realized he arrived and ran up to him asking him to play. A look of concern and sorrow took over Carlos’ face as he wondered what kind of life his brother would have to live under the gruesome conditions Batista put on the poor class. Carlos wished he could help his brother grow up in a different government system where he would actually be able to get somewhere. Somewhere where the corrupt government of Batista, with the help of those “stupid” Americans, ruined the lives of many poor Cubans. Carlos told his brother to go off and play in the other room because he had to go out again. Christian obediently went off to play as Carlos headed for the door grabbing his bag. The night was dark and silent, the moon being Carlos’ only companion. He headed way past the farms where he worked at, watching his every move. He didn’t want to get caught by even a neighbor. He arrived to his destination, a hide out with the group of guerrillas helping fight for Batista’s removal. It was the end of December, New Years was just around the corner. Carlos and all his partners knew that Batista’s reign would soon be over. As they all gathered around the table, plotting when and how they would introduce a new and better leader to Cuba, which of course was Fidel Castro, Carlos remembered of how they had recruited him.

He had been working on the farms, as usual, but this time he had accidentally gone too far out in the mountains where there weren’t even any more sugar canes. He had busied himself by thinking about all the problems he had at home. From the terrible conditions they lived in because Batista didn’t help the poor class, to thinking about his brother, who had no control on his future in Cuba. Going off track set him going on a miniature hike on the mountains. He always loved the outdoors, ever since he had been a child. The suns rays gently touched the back of his neck, sending a little crisp to his skin tone. He hadn’t realized how far he had gone when suddenly he felt some hands grab him and push him against a tree. Carlos had been stunned, but before he could say a word the two men asked who he was. Confused, Carlos told them why he was there and who he was. The two men appeared to be in some sort of military services because of their guns and mismatched uniforms. The guards took him to a tent and went to the man who seemed to be in charge. After Carlos and the general talked they realized he was no threat, but was just an angry civilian whom also detested being under Batista’s rulings. After what seemed like hours of talking, The general had asked Carlos to become one of the nation's future saviors and to help people like him. Carlos had agreed, only thinking about how greatly he could help his family. That had been about two years ago, and there he was now, finally planning Castro’s overtaking. The plan had been set and all the men went to bed prepared for the next day.

Morning had arrived and Carlos along with his partners prepared. They slipped on actual uniforms and armed themselves. They all gathered around to revise anything necessary and then loaded onto trucks. Carlos had the privilege to be in the exact car as Castro. Entering Santiago, thousands of people were crowded around, wanting to meet the man who defeated Batista. As I got off the car, several people surrounded us, but all I worried for was the generals safety.





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