44. Vengeance

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June 1959
Havana, Cuba

"Raúl, we cannot do this!" Camilo protested across the room.

The younger Castro sat in his chair, paying Camilo's words no heed. He maintained a distasteful scowl, turning his eyes upon the President of Cuba, Manuel Urrutia, who presided over this particular Cabinet meeting.

"Can you believe it, Dario?" Camilo whispered, his words strung together with urgency and a controlled rage.

Dario shook his head, sighing. He did not want to be in this meeting and he was sure Camilo wanted no part of this too, but he had been named the military chief of Havana, while Camilo, the Chief of Staff of the Cuban Armed Forces, answering only to Fidel Castro. Thus, they had to attend these Cabinet meetings, despite knowing that nothing good ever came out of them.

The previous few Cabinet meetings had been more of heated debates rather than meetings. The factions clashed, disagreeing on policies. Raúl Castro, emboldened by his brother's lack of interference and Che Guevara's support, advocated for extreme redistribution of wealth in the country, while Urrutia's faction argued for liberalisation and closeness with the West.

"The West?" Raúl had spat once. "Cuba must not have anything to do with those imperialist dogs!"

However, the disagreements got tiresome, and Fidel, true to his word, exercised his power. It only took a few not-so-private meetings with Urrutia to convince the President to not oppose him. Frankly, Dario was not shocked by this development. The army was slowly and surely becoming under the Movement's control. It would take an extraordinarily brave man to oppose them.

But that was not to say that he was pleased about it. Raúl's influence, together with Che, was slowly spreading through the ranks of the party. Fidel remained silent, allowing his brother to be the mouthpiece.

"I can't believe it," Camilo muttered. "If this plan of Raúl's does go through... then what the hell did we fight for?"

Dario could feel a welling up of sorrow travel up his throat, and he gritted his teeth.

"I don't know, Camilo," he said softly.

At that moment, Urrutia stood up. This time, he did not wear his shades. His tired eyes were there for all to see.

"I have decided," he said.

The rest of his words were a mere formality. Everyone in the room knew what he was going to say. Everyone knew that Fidel had him under his thumb.

"I agree with Raúl," he declared. "All elements of Batista's corrupt and oppressive regime must be purged or else it might result in counterrevolutionary actions against our new government. Thus, Rául, you will be in charge of overseeing trials of ex-Batista associates, forming your own task force to arrest these traitors."

Urrutia then shot a quick look at Fidel who sat a few seats away. Fidel, with a blank expression, fiddling with his cigar, nodded.

The President of Cuba then turned back to his Cabinet, and said. "In addition to that, Ernesto Che Guevara will be appointed commander of the La Cabana fortress prison to oversee imprisonment and appeals of the aforementioned war criminals."

Dario shuddered in his seat. A new era of bloody violence was about to descend upon Cuba once again.

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The definition of the term "war criminal" had been deliberately vague. Essentially, Raúl arrested anybody who possessed any semblance of ties to the old regime. In front of national television, Raúl beseeched the Cuban people to report any counterrevolutionary activities and Batista sympathisers to his newly formed "task force", which comprised of hundreds of youths who identified with Rául's brand of justice. 

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