The next day, the radio broadcast a report from Mobutu’s General Staff that a force of 2,400 men under Lieutenant-Colonel [Michael aka “Mad Mike”] Hoare was attacking in the Fizi-Baraka area, with the aim of destroying the last rebel stronghold, and that Baraka had already been taken.
For his part, Lambert announced that Baraka had been attacked, but that they had fought off the enemy and killed 20 whites and many Africans. Evidently, the Congolese themselves did not bother to count the number of dead Africans; what mattered was the number of whites. Meanwhile, another report from Lambert’s front stated:
September 29
Tatu:
Yesterday we talked with the colonel: we asked him to bring the cannon and mortar down to fire at the concentration of guardsmen on this side of Lulimba, and discussed the fact that they had occupied the Mission. Thus Lambert went off to get the cannon and mortar, taking Nane with him to make sure that he did not leave. I also suggested that, after shooting at the concentration, we should withdraw to the other hill so that the aircraft are not able to inflict any casualties today; yesterday they were flying quite low and the guardsmen indicated with their mortars the targets to be bombed. Compañero Nane returned at about 17:00 yesterday with two mortars and cannon, and we set up our firing positions. The colonel returned later than Nane, at about 18:00, completely drunk and dragging along some men from the camp. He suggested that, after we had fired off the cannon and mortars, we should go down to the Mission with the men he had here and our own men because the guardsmen would retreat in the face of gunfire. We told him that would be very dangerous because the enemy certainly had ambushes and we would be virtually placing ourselves within their encirclement; moreover, the resulting confusion would lead our own men to start killing one another. But he denied this and said we had to do it; and anyway he said he had spoken to you and you had both agreed to attack Lulimba. So I told him that our men would stay here, on my own responsibility. He further said that the guardsmen would keep the blankets they had taken from the Mission, and that this should not be allowed to happen.5 After the attack he was going to go to China. We fired the cannon and mortar rounds and withdrew to his camp, along with him and all his men.
When we talked back at the camp last night, we didn’t discuss the matter any further because he was still drunk. I decided to wait for a better chance to talk. We have the cannon at a different position from the previous one. We have left an observation outpost at the place where we fired the cannon yesterday. One of our compañeros is in charge of the cannon, to stop the guardsmen advancing if they try to do so. All the signs are that the guards have set up a camp at the Mission, while others have returned to their camp, as their trucks are heading back that way. Practically the only thing we are doing is taking measures to stop the guardsmen if they try to advance again. My idea is as follows:
We should fire some shots at the Mission during the night and wait a few days to reconnoiter a little around there, as it is possible that the guardsmen will withdraw without being seen. I am keeping an eye on our men, except for the compañero who is at the gun emplacement. Today we told the colonel to get his men out of the houses early because of the aircraft and this was done. We are thinking of building a few shelters. There has been no deterioration in our relations with Lambert because what had occurred was due to his being drunk on pombe. We can have some contact here in the camp, for even if we go to another position we’ll always leave someone behind.
Waiting for further instructions from you,
Moja
The lieutenant-colonel’s irresponsibility was appalling. What I had been told about Baraka was false; it had been lost almost without a struggle, so that the situation was growing increasingly more difficult and the projected army, with an arsenal of weapons, men and ammunition, was becoming more and more diluted. Still imbued with a kind of blind optimism, I was unable to see this and wrote in my monthly analysis for September:
Last month’s analysis was full of optimism; now it’s no longer possible to be so optimistic, even though some things have progressed. Clearly we cannot encircle [Front de] Force within a month. In fact, we cannot set a date for this now. Whatever the truth is about Baraka, the mercenaries are going on the offensive and Lulimba has been transformed into a strongpoint for them. It does have a communications weakness, but it’s almost impossible to make this group fight under present conditions, and the Cubans have to do everything alone. Nevertheless, Massengo appointed our friend Lambert as coordinator of the front (a man who is no use for anything, although he is obeyed by the others and he respects me). Massengo wrote me a conciliatory letter6 asking me to write back about a number of specific problems. My struggle must be to focus on the creation of an independent column, perfectly armed and well equipped, which will be both a shock force and a model for others. If this comes to pass, it will significantly change the picture; as long as this is not achieved, a revolutionary army will be impossible to organize as the quality of the officers precludes it.
To summarize, it has been a month with some advances, but optimism has receded. A month of waiting.
1. The importance that Che gives to the work of providing information and carrying out propaganda as part of the struggle corresponds to his conception of the struggle as a political and military one. Therefore he considers this one aspect of the organizational plan for a guerrilla front, as he explains in Chapter III of Guerrilla Warfare. This work has, in his view, multiple dimensions: it is informational, propagandistic and educational. But its significance is not limited to the phase of the armed struggle, but instead continues—and even grows and acquires additional dimensions – once the victory has been achieved and the building of a new socialist society has been initiated as counterrevolutionary media campaigns will be one of the fundamental axes of imperialism.
Throughout his participation in the Cuban revolution, Che continually promoted the work of information and propaganda. During the revolutionary war he was the founder of broadcaster Radio Rebelde and the newspaper El Cubano Libre. After the victory of the revolution he continued to pay special attention to this question, promoting the creation of the magazine Verde Olivo in 1959 as head of the training department of the Rebel Army and writing for the magazine using the pen name “Francotirador,” (sharpshooter) which he had also used in El Cubano Libre. In June 1959 he helped start the Prensa Latina news agency with Argentine journalist Jorge Ricardo Masetti, and in 1963, the magazine Nuestra Industria when he was minister of industries.
2. Che’s concept of “revolutionary truth” is in complete accord with ethics—a central axis of his political thought and practice. “Against reactionary lies, the revolutionary truth,” would be the slogan at the top of all his communiqués to the Bolivian people during the guerrilla war in that country. According to Che, the truth “is the fundamental principle of popular propaganda…. It is preferable to say the truth, small as to its effective dimensions than to put out a big lie loaded down with tinsel.”
3. Che’s note: These were the two comrades to whom I referred above.
4. Che’s note: A Rwandan combatant who had been incorporated into our force.
5. Che’s note: The retreat on the previous day had been so sudden that the belongings of some men not there at the time (the lieutenant-colonel, Moja and some others) had been left behind.
6. Che’s note: The word “conciliatory” is used in my diary but it is not correct because there was never a complete break or conflict between Massengo and ourselves.
A BATTLE AGAINST TIME
Our position was not favorable, and it would have been disastrous if the enemy had launched an offensive. But as fighting was taking place in the direction of Lulimba, there were reasonable grounds for thinking that we would be left alone for a while. We were located on the banks of the Kiliwe stream, near the first of the mountain foothills. Food was our main worry; we occasionally hunted game, but there was less and less of it and it was dangerous to do this, considering th
at we were in no-man’s-land and any hunting had to be done in that spot and any shots fired would have been heard by the guardsmen. In spite of everything, they nevertheless maintained an apprehensive, almost defensive attitude.
We held a meeting with the chairman of one of the nearby villages. Each small village has its kapita or chief, and the large ones—or a group of hamlets—have a chairman. Our man spoke French and was quite smart. In the course of a long conversation, I presented our requests: we needed some people to go to the Lake [Base] and bring back food and other supplies; the peasants would provide us with cassava, some vegetables and raw tobacco. What we could offer was some of the food and other items brought up from the Lake [Base], payment for the food they provided, free medical care and medicines within our means, and vegetable seeds (whose produce we would share). The chairman noted everything down and held a meeting with his compañeros; after two or three days he ceremoniously brought me a signed typewritten reply with a multiple of stamps that stated he would find men to send to the Lake [Base], that they would guarantee us food and try to find tobacco, but that he could not accept payment because it was revolutionary norm that the peasants were to feed and support the army and they would keep this norm.
More news arrived from Mbili. The soldiers had passed through his lines again and once more some armored cars had been wrecked in the action. This time they had used an ingenious device: a mine was buried in the road and the same grenade fuse suspended by a cord was the detonator, but this time the impact of the vehicle falling into a little trap released the safety catch and set off the explosion within six seconds; at least one armored vehicle was blown up thanks to this “crude device.”
I sent Siki to work as a doctor in the barrier area, as well as to assist Moja in his tasks. His first reports, like Moja’s, laid it on thick and complained of the degree of disorganization there. He was amazed by their habit—even if they expected an enemy attack—of every night, when they went to sleep, they dismantled their weapons and took the pieces away with them. They were incapable of digging trenches to protect themselves, of sleeping in them with their weapons, or simply assigning someone to guard the weapons while they slept. The cannon was regarded as personal property that went with its master, who would not sleep anywhere other than in his own home. Every morning the ordeal of mobilizing people began so that they would be promptly in position at their posts.
It was reported that they had heard some loud explosions in Lubondja. When they went to investigate what they thought was an enemy attack, they saw that a whole ammunition dump was ablaze, with the loss of large quantities of mortar and artillery shells and machine-gun bullets.
Anticipating Compañero Massengo’s arrival, Muyumba (the man who, until a short time before, had been the Revolutionary Council’s representative in Dar es-Salaam) showed up. He came to take charge of sabotage operations against the Albertville railroad in the Makungu area, and he wanted to take six Cubans with him. I reacted sharply and told him that I was waging an uphill battle to concentrate my men and forge a strong mixed army and that I constantly had to fight this kind of dispersal of our forces. (This was the first time I used the term “Congolization” in reference to the Cubans, meaning contagion by the prevailing spirit.) Such dispersal did more harm than any benefits it might bring; we had to discuss this very seriously because I foresaw a very grim future for the revolution if it kept going along this road. Our discussion, and especially my description of what was happening, had a big impact on him; he said he was willing to stay there with me and find 20 peasants to be trained, and that he would return after making an inspection of the Mukundi area. When he asked whether the recruits should be peasants without any military training, I replied that it was much better that way; I preferred a thousand times people who were fresh and had had no prior bivouac experience, rather than soldiers already corrupted by camp life.
When Massengo arrived the next day, I spoke frankly and clearly expressed my view of the problems we were facing. I stressed that he needed to decide to build a strong and disciplined army, otherwise they would be reduced to isolated groups in the mountains. We agreed that we would establish a front in this area under Lambert’s command, but that I would have an independent column. I specified that it would have to be independent of Lambert also because the consequences of his irresponsibility were already wearing me down.
We would establish a kind of combat academy. I preferred the students to be peasants. But although Muyumba undertook to increase the number to 60, it would be necessary to add some soldiers from the various fronts, which I was not so happy to do. Furthermore, we would organize a more rational General Staff that could conduct operations on all the fronts, and I agreed that we would send as advisers Siki (in the work of the General Staff), Tembo (in the task of political organization), and Kasulu (the doctor, as a French translator). Massengo asked me to write to our ambassador in Tanzania to plead with the government there because the difficulties were increasing every day. Lastly, he asked for some more Cuban cadres. I agreed in principle, but the selection would have to be done with great care; this was a special kind of war, in which the quality of individual cadres counted for a lot and it was not just a matter of numbers.
The next day, while we were discussing how to raise the Liberation Army from the ruins, a tragi-comic accident occurred: One of the men dropped a lighted match and the dry straw huts caught fire like torches, especially as the rainy season had only just begun. Quite a few things were lost, but what annoyed me most was the danger caused by the grenades exploding inside, and above all the impression of disorganization and carelessness that we gave Massengo and his compañeros. Agano, who was responsible for the fire and was one of our best compañeros, was sentenced to go three days without food.
While the fiesta of exploding bullets and grenades—accompanied by my own higher-caliber explosions—was taking place, Machadito1 (our minister of public health in Cuba) arrived with some letters and a message from Fidel; along with him came Mutchungo, the health minister in Soumialot’s revolutionary government. They had got lost and had found the camp by the flashes and noise from the explosions. I heard about the long conversations that Soumialot and his colleagues had had with Fidel. The people from the Revolutionary Council had not been honest in their presentations, partly I suppose because that is always how it is in such cases, and partly because they had been outside the country for a long time and didn’t really know what was happening inside. And as the torrent of lies began with the soldiers and grew increasingly larger until it finally reached the top, I imagine that even with the best of intentions, they could never have gained a clear idea of what was really happening. The fact is that they painted an idyllic picture, with military units present everywhere, forces in the countryside, continual battles, all totally remote from what we could see and feel. In addition, they received a considerable sum of money to travel all over the African continent explaining the features of their Revolutionary Council, exposing Gbenyé and his clique, etc. They also requested support for a number of crazy projects: apparently they had asked friendly countries for as many as 5,000 rifles, torpedo boats for the lake and a variety of heavy weapons, and inventing plans for attacks and breakthroughs that were total fantasies. From Cuba they had received a promise of 50 doctors, and that was the reason Machadito had come to look at the conditions on the ground.
I had already understood from Tembo that people in Cuba thought my attitude was very pessimistic. This view was now reinforced by a personal message from Fidel in which he urged me not to abandon hope, asked me to remember the early stage of the struggle in Cuba, recalling that there are always obstacles, and reminded me that these were good men. I wrote a long letter to Fidel, from which I will quote the paragraphs that explain how I saw matters.
Congo, 10/5/65
Dear Fidel:
I received your letter, which has stirred contradictory feelings in me, because in the name of proletarian internationalism, we are commi
tting errors that may prove very costly. I am also personally worried that, either because I have failed to write with sufficient seriousness or because you don’t fully understand me, it may be thought that I am suffering from the terrible disease of groundless pessimism.
When your Greek gift [Tembo] arrived here, he told me that one of my letters had given the impression of a condemned gladiator, and the minister [Machado], in conveying your optimistic message, confirmed the opinion that you were forming. You will be able to speak at length with the bearer of this letter, who will give you his first-hand impressions after visiting much of the front; for this reason I will dispense with anecdotes. I will just tell you that, according to those close to me here, I have lost my reputation for objectivity by maintaining an unfounded optimism in the face of the actual situation. I can assure you that were it not for me this beautiful dream would have catastrophically collapsed in a heap should be sent but.
In my previous letters, I asked that not so many people should be sent but only cadres; there is no real lack of weapons here, except for a few special ones; on the contrary, there are too many armed men; what we lack are soldiers. I particularly warned that no more money should be handed out unless it was with an eyedropper and after many requests.
None of these things have been taken into consideration, and incredible plans have been made that threaten to discredit us internationally and may put me in a very difficult position.
I will now explain:
Soumialot and his compañeros have been leading you all down the garden path. It would be tedious to list the huge number of lies they have spun, and it is preferable to explain the present situation by the attached map.2 There are two zones where something like an organized revolution exists: the area where we are based and part of Kasai province where Mulele is based—a great unknown. In the rest of the country there are unconnected bands living in the forest; they lost everything without a fight, just as they lost Stanleyville without a fight. More serious, however, is the way in which the groups in this area—the only one with contacts to the outside—relate to one another. The differences between Kabila and Soumialot are becoming more serious all the time, and are used as a pretext to keep handing over towns without a fight. I know Kabila well enough not to have any illusions in him. I cannot say the same about Soumialot, but I have some indications such as the string of lies he has been spinning, the fact that he doesn’t bother to come to these godforsaken parts, his frequent drunken sprees in Dar es-Salaam, where he lives in the best hotels, and the kind of allies he has chosen to unite with against the other group.3 Recently a group from the Tshombist army landed in the Baraka area, where a major-general loyal to Soumialot has no fewer than 1,000 armed men, and captured this strategically important point almost without a fight. Now they are arguing about who was to blame: those who failed to put up a fight, or those at the Lake [Base] who didn’t send enough ammunition. The fact is that they shamelessly ran away, ditching in the swamp a 75 mm. recoilless cannon and two 82 mm. mortars; all the men assigned to these weapons have disappeared, and now they are asking me for Cubans to get them back from wherever they are—no one knows quite where—and to use them in battle. Moreover, they are doing nothing to defend Fizi, 36 kilometers from here; they don’t want to dig trenches on the only access road through the mountains. This will give you some idea of the situation. As for the need for a careful selection of men rather than sending me large numbers, you and the commissar assure me that the men here are good and I’m sure most of them are, otherwise they would have quit long ago. But the fact is one has to be really easy going to put up with the way things are here. It’s not good men but supermen that are required…