By Jose E. Dausá
Translated from the Spanish by Jorge A. Maspóns
 
Girón Beach, April 19, 1961, 2 p.m.

The commanding officer of BRIGADE 2506, José Pérez San Román, had made his last radio contact: “We will never abandon our homeland.”  Those were his last words.  Next, he turned to the troops and went on to say that everything was lost and that everyone of us was free to choose the right way to protect our lives.  The shells were falling all around the tourist area of Girón Beach.  It crossed my mind to look toward the seafront wall,  I saw the artillery rounds hitting it, but without penetrating it.  It seemed to me an ideal place to take shelter.  Accompanied by Dr. José Rojas from Headquarters’ Legal Section, I turned my steps toward the wall.
 
We saw Dr. Manuel Artime with a group of soldiers and he told us that they were trying to reach the Escambray’s Mountains.  I argued with him saying that to reach that place seemed almost impossible.  Escaping by the sea appeared to be more feasible and to try to reach the American war ships nearby the Cuban coast.  However, they persisted in their idea and we separated and continued on our way.  On the way to the seawall we ran into Monty Montalvo who joined with us at this time.  Monty told us that he had been watching a fishing boat near the shore and as he spoke we took shelter behind the wall.  It was around 4 p.m. and we decided to wait until sunset.
 
We were behind the wall for awhile when we heard voices and the noise of coming vehicles.  It turned out that it was a group of men from the Brigade.  They said that they were being pursuit by Castro’s troops supported by tanks.  They saw the boat anchored about 100 meters away and decided to swim toward it.  Swimming that distance to reach the boat was not too long, especially for a good swimmer, but the rounds that continued to fall around us made that decision a dangerous and doubtful one.  We were, therefore, hesitant to do it.
 
Nevertheless, almost everyone of them opted to swim and try for the boat.  I asked Rojas and Moltalvo if they were coming; they doubted it.  I decided to go for it and jumped into the water.  Although I am a good swimmer, those 100 meters looked like 100 miles to me.  At last I managed to reach the boat and someone helped me to climb aboard.  They cut the rope holding the anchor, raised the sail and attempted to start the engine, but it did not work.
 
There was no wind blowing for the sail to help us.  We decided to row with our hands and boards that we tore from the deck of the boat. We slowly began to move and the sail caught a breeze.  We then set a course for the ships.  In total we were 22 men that managed to reach the boat.  We were thirsty, hungry, feeling suffocated and with a sun that “rajaba tablas” [an expression indicating that the temperature was very hot] The water in my canteen was quickly consumed and a barrel with just a small amount of water was also consumed in no time.  Suddenly someone yelled: “We will reach them!”, and others said: “They must have seen us!” [Note from the translator: I believe that the war ships off the Cuban coast did see these men fleeing for their lives, but abandoned them, just like the entire Brigade had already left to die...  It was a U.S. Presidential order.]
 
THE VOYAGE BEGINS
 
As darkness fell, a strong wind began to blow and the waves from the sea began to rise up.  The water sprayed and wet our bodies, causing us to feel an irritating cold for the first time.  The ship was moving fast and we came upon a shoal; we also saw the beam from a lighthouse.  Someone in the group pleaded that we should go in its direction but we continued on without setting a course shaken by the wind and the waves.  We were crowded.  I remember that I sat in a small area of the stern, hardly able to move.  And that’s how we spent the first night of that macabre voyage.
 
Along with the morning and daylight at dawn the sun also came which was really annoying.  We started to organize  ourselves.  We discovered that we did not have fresh water.  We found some food: raw potatoes, rice, onions and brown sugar.  There was a small stove but we did not have the means to start is.  The ship’s documents revealed that it was registered at the Port of Cienfuegos, its name was Celia, 18 feet in length and Cienfuegos Class.  Next we proceeded to deliberate on whom would be the responsible man to give the orders in the ship.  Alejandro del Valle was chosen; he was the parachute battalion commander.  Alejandro soon made the decision to take a course due west, he said that perhaps we could reach the coast of Yucatan, Mexico where his father had a fishing business.  We accepted it and proceeded to set a westerly course.
 
The Celia had a compass and we calculated that the night before we had sailed south some 30 or 40 miles.  This was Vicente García’s opinion, the only one who seemed to have knowledge of ships and the sea.  People called Vicente “uncle” because of his age; he was a member of the parachute battalion and a World War II veteran.  He was the consummate worker.  Vicente attempted to start the engine but came to the conclusion that the owner had removed some part. Taking the helm, which was a long rod that controlled the rudder, Vicente guided the ship toward Mexico.
 
Everyone of us felt fortunate to have escaped.  We thought that in Girón due to the artillery fire, the tank attack and the airplanes, many had perished.  The sun was getting warm quickly.  To freshen up, many jumped into the water and swam along the boat.  At sundown we made ourselves as comfortable as we could and I remember that we were able to sleep a little.  On the second day we began to notice the shortness of water and food.  I took cover under a canvas which was on deck.
 
THE SHARK

Aboard the ship there were some fishing gear, but we did not have bait.  Vicente (uncle) thought of using the shining cover of a cigarette lighter, tied to a hook, as if it were bait.  We caught a bonito (tuna).  Distributed among 22 people, everyone received a small piece.  It was the first time for me to eat raw fish.  I remember that my friend Pepe García Montes once commented that to eat a raw fish in Japan was a tasty delicacy.  The following day, using parts of the bonito, we caught a dorado (pompano).  Later, using the head of the bonito as bait, a bigger hook and a thicker line we hooked a shark, a very large creature, and we began fighting to capture it.
 
Some threw themselves into the water to kill it.  They stalked it, hit it with boards, punches and everything they could use to capture it.  The shark pulled hard on the line and quickly went far away.  We remained back with the line and the straightened up hook.
 
THE DEAD

Several days had passed. The shortness of water and food was beginning to wear on us.  Desperate, many continued to swim to keep fresh.  Airplanes flew by and we signaled them with the few clothes we still had.  We saw the lights of several ships. We yelled, made gestures, all for nothing.  We did not understand how difficult it is to see a ship the size of “CELIA” in the immense ocean.  We saw a ship that looked like a fishing vessel, very large from a short distance and it appeared to us as if it had seen us.  The ship, which appeared to be near, sailed for about two hours and it went far away.  We did not see it again.  The first one to fall was “El Tío.” (The Uncle)  He laid himself on the bottom of the boat and began to emit husky and incoherent sounds.  We checked him and saw that from his eyes, nose and mouth there came a yellow-green liquid.  His agony lasted only several hours.  When we made certain that he was dead, an overwhelming shiver came upon all who made up that company.
 
We waited one day after his death and it was decided to throw him overboard.  I was chosen to be the one to say the eulogy.  It was very impressive when they threw the body into the water.  I remember that image: -a dead comrade, inside his own water tomb,- arms raised, the long hair floating over his head.  I will never be able to forget it as long as I live.
 
From that moment on, the subject of death took possession of us.  Now the question was how to survive.  Some drank their own urine, others simply refreshed themselves in the water.
 
The salt and the sun soaked our bodies.  The cold of the night and the drops of water that sprinkled us were felt as a lethal whip.  A small can that I found in the boat served me to pour water over my head.  The water rolled down to my mouth and I drank some of it.  Some other times I gargled.  When I felt that my throat was getting used to the salt I would drink it; also, I picked up seaweed floating on the sea.  I chewed the seaweed and drank the juice it produced.  Sometimes I swallowed the seaweed, it tasted horrible.
 
Many times the sea would get very choppy with strong waves and the boat turned about.  To my surprise it straightened out again.  It was a seaworthy ship.  One day at dawn the sea was calm, but it was a sinister calm.  In our despair it crossed our minds to make ourselves some oars.  We used some boards from the deck and tightly fastened them.  We started to row by shifts.  After about two or three hours the sea began to get choppy again.  It rained one night only; we went insane and tried to drink as much water as possible and wet our bodies.  In the midst of the madness we forgot to store water.
 
After Vicente’s death, despair began to take hold of us once again.  Everyone touched their eyes, nose and mouth asking themselves if there was some visible suppuration.  Death began to gather among those who were losing strength.  One by one they were dying in the same manner, up to a total of ten, all by the same process of suppuration or secretion and wheezing.  They were losing control of themselves and would be bed-ridden until they died.  There were two brothers, Isaac and Joaquín Rodríguez.  Isaac lost control of himself and said that he did not want to die aboard with that suppuration.  He jumped into the water intending to commit suicide.  His brother Joaquín pleaded with him to return to the boat.  “What am I going to tell mother?”  Isaac insisted to be left alone, he prefer to die drowning, but we managed to pull him out of the water.  In the end, both of the brothers survived.
 
On another occasion someone argued that we should use the blood of the dead to relieve the thirst.  I opposed it.  I explained that I had read stories of shipwrecked who adhered to that solution and afterwards they turned one against the other killing themselves.  Three comrades both supported and backed me with their conduct but we were not the majority.  In total ten comrades perished.  Following are their names in alphabetical (the Cuban way) order: Julio Caballero, Marco Tulio García, Vicente García, José García Montes, Jorge García Villalta, Ernerto Hernández Cosío, Raúl Menocal, Alejandro del Valle, Ruben Vera Ortíz and Jesús Vilarchao.
 
THE RESCUE

The ship had been drifting for several days driven by the sea currents (Gulf Stream) We did not know where we were nor how many days we had been sailing.  It was agreed that we should keep a steady course north using the helm and the compass.  We raffled the watches, and I drew the second one.  The first one was Joaquín Rodríguez.  We began at 5 p.m.  It was about a half hour into the start of this watch when one of our fellow men, lying down on the bow started to yell: “A Ship, A Ship! And it is coming straight toward us!”  We did not pay any attention to him, but Joaquín, who was in charge of the helm began to scream, warning us of the coming ship.  We took a peak.  Suddenly I saw the large vessel that looked like it was about to tear us apart.  Three or four men jumped into the water to try to reach it.
 
The ship started to let out smoke through its smokestack and it came to a complete stop.  They threw life preservers to those who were in the water.  They lowered a life boat, with several men, that began rowing toward us.  They picked us up and took us to the ship.  We were saved.  The ship´s name was “ATLANTA SEAMAN.”  Some were lifted up to the ship while others could do it by ourselves.  I asked for, was given and devoured 16 cold oranges.  We bathed and they fed us.
 
Previously we decided that I would speak on behalf of all.  I met with the captain and he was astonished when I explained to him that we were members of BRIGADE 2506 that had landed in Girón Beach.  The captain informed me that two of our men had perished aboard the ship.  They did everything they could to save their lives.  The captain also told me the date: May 4, 1961. We had been lost at sea for 15 days.  They rescued us about 100 miles south of the mouth of the Mississippi River.
 
Following are the names of the survivors: Isaac and Joaquín Rodríguez, Roberto Pérez San Román, Cuéllar, Nelson Torrado, Armando Estrada, Florencio Valdés, Angel Hernández, Armando Caballero, Raúl Muxó and José Enrique Dausá.
 
[Note from the translator:  At the present time only two members of BRIGADE 2506 remained interned at the “Garden of Memories” cemetery.  They are: Ernesto Hernández Cosío and Rubén Vera Ortíz.  The others have been moved by members of their families.]