The Bolivian Diary (26 page)

We stayed there all day, trying to give Pombo's leg some rest. We are being sold goods at high prices—so the peasants' fear is obviously mixed with their desire for profit, and they are providing us with what we need. I took some photos that made me the center of attention: we will see how we can develop them, enlarge them, and get them back here—three problems. A plane flew overhead in the afternoon and at night someone referred to the danger of nocturnal bombings, so everyone ran outside into the night; when we caught up with them, we explained there was no danger. My asthma continues to wage war.

We walked the two leagues to the Junction slowly, arriving at 15:30. A peasant called Manuel Carrillo lives there and he received us somewhat panic-stricken. We ate sumptuously, as has become our custom in recent days, and we slept in an abandoned shack. Asthma punished me severely and for the first time would not let me sleep at all.

Altitude = 1,000 meters.

Two days ago seven soldiers from El Filo passed by headed toward Bermejo.

Throughout the entire area, families with their belongings are fleeing to escape the army's repression. We walked mingling with oxen, pigs, chickens, and people until we reached Lagunillas; where we left the Piojera River behind and followed its tributary, the Lagunillas, for a kilometer. Serving as our guide was an unhappy peasant called Ramón, whose family is stricken with the proverbial fear found in this area. We slept beside the road; along the way we met up with one of Sandoval Morón's uncles, who lives in San Luis and seems much more alert.

Altitude = 1,160 meters.

We set out early and headed for Peña Colorada, crossing a populated area where people received us in terror. We got to Alto de Palermo as it was getting dark (altitude 1,600 meters) and from there we descended to a little grocery store where we made some purchases, just in case. It was already night
when we came to a road where there was only one small house, belonging to an old widow. The vanguard did a poor job of capturing the road due to their indecisiveness. The plan was to seize a vehicle coming from Samaipata, check on the prevailing conditions in the town, go there with the driver of the vehicle, occupy the DIC office,
¹
make purchases in the pharmacy, raid the hospital, buy some canned food and candy, and then return.

We changed the plan because no vehicles came from Samaipata and we heard that vehicles going there were not being detained, that is, the barrier had been raised. Ricardo, Coco, Pacho, Aniceto, Julio, and Chino were assigned to this action. They stopped a truck that came from Santa Cruz, without incident, however, behind it came another one that stopped to see if help was needed and this had to be detained also; then the hard bargaining began with a woman traveling in the truck who refused to let her daughter get out. A third truck stopped to see what was happening and blocked the road completely; a fourth stopped, all because of the indecisiveness of our people. Everything was resolved and the four vehicles remained at the side of the road, one driver when asked, said he needed a break. Our troops set off in one of the trucks and got to Samaipata, where they captured two
carabineros
and Lieutenant Vacaflor, the head of the post; they made the lieutenant give the sergeant the password to enter the post, and once inside they were able to occupy it by subduing 10 soldiers in a lightning-fast action, after a brief exchange of fire when one of the soldiers resisted. They seized five Mausers and one BZ-30 and drove the
10 prisoners a kilometer out of Samaipata and left them there without any clothes.

From the perspective of supplies, the action was a failure; Chino allowed himself to be overruled by Pacho and Julio, and did not buy anything useful; as for medicines, nothing that I needed was obtained, although they did get the most indispensable items for the guerrilla force. The action happened in front of all the townspeople and a crowd of travelers, so word will spread like wildfire. By 2:00 we were already walking back with the booty.

We hiked without stopping until we came to a sugarcane field where there was a man who had received us well the last time, one league from Ramón's house. Fear remains entrenched among the people; the man sold us a pig and was friendly, but warned us that there were 200 men in Los Ajos and that his brother had just returned from San Juan, where there were 100 soldiers. He should have had some of his teeth pulled but preferred not to. My asthma is getting worse.

We went from the house beside the sugarcane field to the Piojera River, taking precautions, but the coast was clear and there were not even rumors of soldiers, and people coming from San Juan denied that any soldiers were there. It seems to have been a trick the man used to get rid of us. We walked about two leagues along the river until reaching the Piray, and from there another league to the cave, which we reached as night was falling. We are close to El Filo.

I injected myself several times so I could continue, finally, using an eyewash solution containing 1/900 adrenaline. If Paulino has not accomplished his mission, we will have to return to Ñacahuazú to retrieve my asthma medication.

The army issued a statement on the action, acknowledging one dead, which must have resulted from the exchange of fire when Ricardo, Coco, and Pacho took the small military post.

As we started out, we lost the trail and spent the morning looking for it. At noon, we followed one that was not very clearly marked, which led to the highest point we have reached so far: 1,840 meters; a little later we found a shack where we spent the night. We are not sure about the path to El Filo. The radio broadcast news of a 14-point agreement between the workers at the Catavi and the Siglo XX mines and the Comibol Company, representing a total defeat for the workers.

We left late because a horse was missing, but it turned up later. We passed through our highest altitude, 1,900 meters, along a path that is rarely used. At 15:30, we came across a shack where we could stay overnight, but the unpleasant surprise was that the paths ended here. Some old, abandoned trails were explored but they lead nowhere. Ahead of us, we can see some farms that could be El Filo.

The radio broadcast the news that there was a clash with guerrillas in the El Dorado region, which is not on the map but is between Samaipata and the Río Grande; they admit to one wounded and claim two dead on our side.

On the other hand, the statements from Debray and Pelado are not good; on top of everything, they have admitted to the continental aims of the guerrilla movement, something they did not have to do.

Coming back on a rainy day in a thick fog, we lost our way and became completely separated from the vanguard, which made its way down by clearing an old trail. We killed a calf.

The entire day was spent waiting for news from Miguel, but only at night did Julio bring word that they had gone down to a creek that flowed in a southerly direction. We stayed put. I am having regular asthma attacks.

Now the radio is broadcasting another report, an important part of which seems true; it talks of a battle at the Iquira with a fatality on our side; the body has been taken to Lagunillas. The euphoria about the body indicates that there is some truth in this report.

In the morning, we descended a steep hill that was slippery due to bad weather and met up with Miguel at 11:30. He had sent Camba and Pacho to scout a trail that led away from the one that followed the course of the creek, and they returned an hour later saying they had seen farms and houses and had entered an abandoned one. We headed that way, following the course of the little creek, and made it to the first house, where we spent the night. The owner of the house showed up later
and said the magistrate's mother had seen us and that she must have already informed the soldiers at the settlement in El Filo, a league from here. We kept watch all night.

There was constant drizzle throughout the night, which continued all day. We nevertheless left at 12:00, bringing along two guides, Pablo, the mayor's brother-in-law, and Aurelio Mancilla, the man from the first house. The women stayed behind, crying. We reached the point where the trails diverged—one led to Florida and Moroco, and the other to Pampa. The guides proposed going to Pampa, from where we could take a recently made short cut to Mosquera; we agreed, but we had gone only about 500 meters when we ran into a young soldier and a peasant with a load of flour on his horse. They had a message for the second lieutenant in El Filo from his colleague in Pampa, where there are 30 soldiers. We decided to change direction and took the path to Florida, setting up camp after a little while.

The PRA
²
and PSB
³
have withdrawn from the Revolutionary Front
⁴
and the peasants are warning Barrientos about an alliance with the Falange.
⁵
The government is disintegrating rapidly. Such a pity that we do not have 100 more men right now.

We hiked very little due to the bad state of the path, abandoned
many years ago. Taking Aurelio's advice, we killed one of the magistrate's cows, eating sumptuously. My asthma has abated a bit.

Barrientos announced Operation Cynthia, to wipe us out within a few hours.

We started out very slowly, due to the heavy work of slashing through the foliage and the animals suffered greatly because the track is so bad; by the end of the day we came to a deep canyon, impossible to cross with loaded horses. Miguel and four men from the vanguard went on ahead and slept apart from us.

There was no decent news of any importance on the radio. We passed an altitude of 1,600 meters close to Durán Hill, on our left.

We continued to walk slowly because we kept losing the path. We were hoping to reach an orange grove that our guide told us about, but when we got there, all the trees were bare. There was a little pond that we camped beside. We did not walk more than three hours in total. My asthma is much better. It seems we will end up on the same path we used to get to Piray.

We are beside Durán Hill.

Altitude = 1,560 meters.

After an hour's hike, our guide lost the way and claimed that he did not know where to go. We finally found an old trail
and while it was being cleared, Miguel went ahead, cutting through the woods, and reached the junction of the road to Piray. Arriving at a little creek where we camped, we released the three peasants and the young soldier, after reading them our statement. Coco went off with Pablito and Pacho to see if Paulino left anything in the hole; they should return tomorrow night if everything goes as planned. The young soldier says that he is going to desert.

Altitude = 1,300 meters.

We made the short trip back to the old camp and stayed there; reinforcing our guard while we waited for Coco; he returned after 18:00, announcing that everything is still as it was; the rifle is in its place and there are no signs of Paulino. There are, however, many tracks from passing troops, and also signs of them on the stretch of the trail where we are.

The political news is of a tremendous crisis and no one knows how it will be resolved. For now, the agricultural unions in Cochabamba have formed a political party of “Christian inspiration” that is backing Barrientos, who is asking to be “allowed to govern for four years”; it is almost a plea. [Vice-President] Siles Salinas is threatening the opposition that our rise to power would cost everyone's head and is calling for national unity, declaring the country to be in a state of war. On the one hand, they seem to be pleading, and using demagogy, on the other; maybe they are planning a takeover.

We took precautions while walking until we made it to the first
two little houses, where we found one of Paniagua's boys and the son-in-law of Paulino.
⁶
They knew nothing about Paulino, except that the army was looking for him for having been our guide. The tracks are those of a group of 100 men who passed by a week after we did and continued on to Florida. The army apparently suffered the loss of three dead and two wounded in the ambush. Coco, (with Camba, León, and Julio), was sent to check out Florida and to buy what they could there. They returned at 4:00 with some provisions and a certain Melgar, the owner of two of our horses, who offered his services and gave us detailed information (somewhat embellished) from which we gleaned the following: Four days after our departure, Tuma's body was found, eaten by animals; the army only advanced the day after the battle, when the lieutenant showed up without his clothes; the action at Samaipata is known in full detail—albeit exaggerated—it is a source of amusement among the peasants; Tuma's pipe was found along with some scattered belongings; a major by the name of Soperna seems to be half-sympathetic toward us or perhaps even an admirer; the army went to Coca's house, where Tuma died, and from there to Tejería, before returning to Florida. Coco thought about using the man to deliver a letter for us, but it seemed more prudent to test him out first by sending him to buy some medicines. This Melgar talked about a group that is headed this way, with a woman, something he learned from a letter written by the magistrate in Río Grande to the one here. Since the latter lives on the road to Florida, we sent Inti, Coco, and Julio to talk to him. He denied
any knowledge of the other group, but generally confirmed the rest of Melgar's information. We spent a bitch of a night because of rain.

The radio broadcast a report identifying the body of the dead guerrilla fighter as Moisés Guevara, but Ovando, at a press conference, was very cautious about this and handed over responsibility for the identification to the Ministry of the Interior. There is still a possibility that the supposed identification is a farce or an invention.