The Bolivian Diary (20 page)

Che Guevara on the banks of a river.

Che Guevara's Bolivian Diary, first entry, November 7, 1966.

“Analysis of the Month.” A page from Che Guevara's Bolivian Diary.

A page from Che Guevara's Bolivian Diary. His birthday, June 14, 1967, and the birthday of his daughter Celia.

Che Guevara's Bolivian Diary.

Che Guevara's Bolivian Diary, final entry, October 7, 1967.

Survivors of the guerrilla troop arriving in Chile.

At around 7:00, we reached the house of Nemesio Caraballo, whom we had met during the night and who had offered us coffee. The man had left, leaving the house locked, with some frightened servants still there. We prepared a meal there, buying some corn and
jocos
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(
zapallos
)
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from the farmhands. At 13:00, a van showed up with a white flag, carrying a sub-prefect, the doctor, and the priest from Muyupampa; the priest was a German. Inti spoke with them. They had come in peace, but they wanted to be mediators for peace on the national level. Inti offered a truce for Muyupampa in exchange for a list of supplies to be brought to us before 18:30. They would not agree because, according to them, the army controlled the village, and they asked for an extension until 6:00 in the morning, but this was refused.

They brought two cartons of cigarettes as a sign of good will and told us that the three who left had been arrested in Muyupampa and that two of them are in trouble for having false documents. Bad news for Carlos, but Dantón should be all right.

At 17:30, three AT-6s aircraft came and dropped a few bombs on the house where we were cooking. One of them fell 15 meters away and Ricardo was slightly wounded by some shrapnel. That was the army's response. We have to make our
proclamations known so that the soldiers will be completely demoralized; judging by their envoy, they are already scared stiff.

We left at 22:30 with two horses, the confiscated one and the one belonging to the journalist. We headed straight to Ticucha until 1:30, where we stopped to sleep.

We walked a little way to the house of Rosa Carrasco, who looked after us very well, selling us whatever was necessary. At night we walked to the junction of the Muyupampa and Monteagudo road, a place called Taperillas. The idea was to stay at a water hole and explore the area to see where to set up our next ambush. Another reason to stay here is the news on the radio about the death of three mercenaries: a Frenchman, an Englishman, and an Argentine. There must be a response to this disinformation campaign so as to teach them a lesson.

Before dinner, we went to the house of old man Rodas, the stepfather of Vargas, who was killed at the Ñacahuazú; we explained what had happened and he seemed satisfied. The vanguard misunderstood their instructions and continued along the road, disturbing some dogs that barked excessively.

We began making mistakes in the morning; after we had withdrawn into the woods, Rolando, Miguel, and Antonio went to look for a site for an ambush; they surprised a small YPFB truck [Bolivian State Petroleum Reserves] that was checking out our footprints while a peasant was telling them about our presence here the night before; we decided to take everyone
prisoner. This changed our plans, but we decided to position ourselves for an ambush during the day to capture any passing supply trucks and to ambush the army if it came this way. We seized a truck with some supplies and plenty of bananas, along with a considerable number of peasants; but another one was let go that was examining our tracks as were other small YPFB trucks. We were delayed, waiting for a meal that included the tempting offer of bread, but it never came.

My intention was to load up the small YPFB truck with food and to proceed with the vanguard to the junction of the road to Ticucha, four kilometers away. At nightfall, a little plane began to circle our position and the barking of dogs in neighboring houses became more persistent. At 20:00, we were ready to leave, despite the evidence that our presence had been detected. Just then, a brief clash occurred and then we heard voices calling on us to surrender; we were all hidden and had no idea what had happened, but fortunately, our belongings and the supplies were already on the small truck; after a while we got everything organized, only missing Loro, but all signs indicated that nothing had happened to him. It turned out that Ricardo was the one involved in the encounter, having surprised the soldier's guide as they were climbing the ridge to surround us; the guide might have been shot.

We left with the small truck and all the available horses, six in total; the people took turns walking and riding, but in the end everyone rode in the small truck, with six from the vanguard on horseback. We arrived in Ticucha at 3:30, and at El Mesón, the priest's property, at 6:30. The truck got stuck in a hole on the way.

The balance sheet of the action is negative; on the one hand, there was a lack of discipline and foresight, and on the other,
the loss (temporary, I hope) of a man. In addition, we paid for goods but we failed to bring them with us. Finally, we lost a bundle of dollars that fell out of Pombo's bag. These are the results of the action. This is without considering the fact that we were surprised and forced to retreat by a group that must have been quite small. There is much to do to transform this group into combat unit, although morale is very high.

A day of rest was declared, and it passed uneventfully. At noon, the plane (AT-6) flew over the area; we reinforced the sentries but nothing happened. At night instructions for the next day were given: Benigno and Aniceto will go to find Joaquín—four days. Coco and Camba will explore the trail to the Río Grande and prepare it for use—four days. We will stay close to the cornfield, waiting to see if the army comes before Joaquín is able to join us. Joaquín is instructed to bring everyone, only leaving behind any mebers of the reject group, if they are sick.

The mystery still surrounds the fate of Dantón, Pelado, and the English journalist; the press is censored, and another clash has just been announced in which three to five prisoners were captured.

The explorers departed. We positioned ourselves one kilometer upstream on a small ridge; from our lookout, we could watch the last peasant's house, about 500 meters before the priest's farm. (We found marijuana in his fields.) The peasant showed up again and was inquisitive; in the afternoon, an AT-6 fired two machine-gun bursts at the little house. Pacho disappeared
mysteriously; he was sick and had stayed behind; Antonio showed him the road and he started out in our direction. From where he was, he should have made it in five hours, but he never came back. Tomorrow we will search for him.

Bad day. At about 10:00 Pombo returned from the lookout warning us that 30 soldiers were advancing toward the little house. Antonio stayed at the observation post. While we were getting ready, Antonio arrived with the news that there were 60 soldiers and they were preparing to advance. The lookout proved to be inefficient in giving us sufficient warning. We decided to set up an improvised ambush along the access path to the camp; quickly, we chose a short stretch along the creek with a visibility of 50 meters. I positioned myself there with Urbano and Miguel, who had the automatic rifle. El Médico,
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Arturo, and Raúl occupied a position on the right to impede anyone trying to flee or to advance that way. Rolando, Pombo, Antonio, Ricardo, Julio, Pablito, Darío, Willy, Luis, and León occupied the lateral position on the other side of the creek to completely cover the flank. Inti stayed at the river bed to attack anyone looking for refuge there. Ñato and Eustaquio went to the lookout with instructions to withdraw when the firing started. Chino remained behind, guarding the camp. My already meager troops were reduced by three men: Pacho, lost, with Tuma and Luis off looking for him.

In a while the army's advance guard appeared, which to our surprise included three German shepherds and their trainer.
The animals were restless, but it did not seem that they had detected us. However, they continued to advance and I shot at the first dog, but missed. When I aimed at the guide, the M-2 jammed. Miguel killed the other dog, from what we could see, but it was not confirmed. No one else entered the ambush. Intermittent gunfire commenced at the army's flank. When the shooting was over, I sent Urbano to order a retreat, but he came back with the news that Rolando was wounded. Shortly, they brought him back, but he was already dying; he died as we began to give him plasma. A bullet had split his femur and all the surrounding nerves and vessels; he bled to death before we could do anything. We have lost the best man of the guerrilla force, one of its pillars, my compañero since he was basically a child, when he became the messenger for Column 4 [during the Cuban revolutionary war], through the invasion, and now to this new revolutionary venture. Of his sorrowful death, only one thing can be said, for a hypothetical future yet to materialize: “Thy brave little captain's corpse has stretched to immensity in its metallic form.”
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