Training

BACK ON ACTIVE DUTY WITH THE POLICE, AFTER MY hospital stay and then a month's leave, I was stationed at the Fourth Precinct. Here I was assigned to the Direccion General de Orden Publico, an organization with wide responsibilities related to the maintenance of public order. My task was to check the passports and documents of persons preparing to leave the country.

I was with the D.G.O.P. for about half a year, and then the organization was transferred to the Ministry of the Interior. I went with it, and now was no longer with the police. I continued to do the same work as previously, until transferred to the ministry's Social Study and Prevention Department, which dealt with such matters as prostitution, drug addiction, and juvenile delinquency. The section not only tried to help prostitutes find legitimate work and steer potential delinquents away from trouble, it also kept an eye on clergymen and churchgoers, who, under the Communist system, were also considered to be potential troublemakers.

I used my time in Havana to good avail. I had discontinued my formal education upon completion of the sixth grade, but while in the marines had resumed studying and continued this during my police and ministerial employment. As a former member of the rebel army I was entitled to an education, and I took advantage of this opportunity to pursue my studies to the pre‑university level.

Norma, my childhood friend from La Pedrera, was now teaching in Havana, and I began seeing her, and then courting her. We were married in July of 1965.

It was while I was at work at the ministry that my life took a drastic new turn.

When I was recruited by the Direction General de Inteligencia, or D.G.I., I knew nothing about the organization, nor even that it existed. I was summoned by my chief at the Ministry of Interior and told: "I have been asked for a selection of the men under my command. You have been picked because you work well and have a good revolutionary background." I had not sought a transfer from my job, and now I was intrigued by what lay ahead, and a little concerned, too. I thought that perhaps I had been chosen by G‑2, the widely feared secret police.

My recruitment was handled by a man I knew only as "Andres." Andres brought me lengthy forms to fill out, and asked many questions about my background. Andres never stated where all this was leading, but he did tell me: "Be prepared to leave. You will be taken to a certain place." The place was not identified, which did not add to my peace of mind. Then one day I was advised: "Tomorrow, instead of coming to work, be prepared for a trip. Bring a valise with clothes, and you will be picked up here at the ministry."

Two men came for me the next day in a Jeep: Andres and an individual who used the name "Victor." They drove me through the city and to an outlying area known as El Cano. Conversation during the trip was desultory; neither of the men was of a mind to tell me where we were going. Our destination turned out to be a cream-colored mansion, obviously once the property of a wealthy family. It had a pool, fine furniture, and tall palms on its extensive grounds. During the ride I was cautioned that I was to tell no one who I was, where I had come from, or what my background was. I was to use only my first name, and to ask none of the people I would meet about themselves. There were three or four other men in the house when I arrived, and in the next few days additional ones were brought in. I was assigned to a large, comfortable room. It had two beds and was equipped with television.

We were told that we were not permitted to leave the grounds, nor to make any phone calls. We were not allowed to notify our families where we were. The only people we saw were Andres and Victor, and a caretaker who shunned conversation. I found myself filling out more forms, and answering more questions. Conversing among ourselves, we speculated as to why we were being kept in this house, how long we would be here, where we would be taken next. Some thought our stay in the house was some sort of psychological test, to see how well we could endure being cooped up for a length of time. We questioned each other to see if anyone knew more than the others, but no one seemed to have been told much.

Food was brought in from outside, and we were supplied with books and magazines. We occupied ourselves reading, swimming, playing chess and Ping‑Pong, and talking about our strange situation. A wry comment was, "After this millionaire's vacation, what terrible thing is in store for us?"

The "vacation" lasted a week. One night we climbed aboard two Jeeps and were driven for an hour until we came to a place known as Loma de Tierra, about five miles outside Havana and near the road running between that city and Guines. The Jeeps turned onto a driveway partially lined with palm trees and pulled up in front of two red‑roofed, light‑colored buildings, one smaller than the other and probably once the servants' quarters. The buildings were set on a small farm, and numerous trees, closely spaced, obscured them from the road. I did not know it at the moment, but this was the training school for Cuba's intelligence service. Previously most Cuban agents had received their instruction behind the Iron Curtain; now they would be trained in Cuba.

There were already about twelve other students in the house, although our group did not see them until the following morning. The other men were sleeping in the smaller house; our group was assigned to a dormitory in the main building. We were provided with complete sets of olive‑green military fatigues, plus army boots. We were also assigned numbers‑mine was 28‑which we were to use for identification purposes in lieu of names.

The students were summoned to hear a preliminary briefing in the school's auditorium by the director, a man about 40 years old who used the name "Marrero." He admonished us that we were not to reveal our names to other students, nor to question them. We were told that we were being prepared for service in D.G.I.‑much to our surprise, for most thought they had been taken into G‑2. Although the intelligence service was civilian, the training would be along military lines, for, "if the future Intelligence official is to be well‑disciplined when he is abroad, he must receive military training, so that he will be a better‑organized and better‑disciplined person." Marrero wore a military uniform (but no rank insignia), and the instructors would include other military men.

The director told us that as yet a precise training program had not been worked out, nor was it certain who the instructors would be. The school was in the process of being organized. The director said: "The course will be a long one. We will try to make it a good one." In this talk, and in lectures by other officials in the following days, the students were informed what D.G.I. was, how it was organized, what its functions were.

Representatives of different sections of D.G.I. began coming to the school to instruct the students. One of these was "Fermin," whom I later came to know as head of D.G.I.'s Brazil desk. Fermin gave a general talk on the nature of intelligence work. Other officials lectured on recruitment, communications, photography, information gathering, and diverse other matters and methods that concern an intelligence service. There was also a course on general culture, providing the rudiments of music and other arts, as well as the basics of world history.

A schedule of activities was worked out for the students. The timetable for getting up, for meals, for classes, for lights‑out governed their daily life. Sports included volleyball, baseball, and Ping-Pong, and there was chess for those who wanted it. We were given some time off, usually on weekends. The system of numerical identifications was found to be impractical, especially outside the school. How were two students to greet each other if they met in, say, a restaurant? "Hello, 26." "Hello, 12." So a system of code names was adopted, and mine became "Osvaldo." This code name remained with me throughout my intelligence career, and it was the name I bestowed upon my second son.

In the photography course we learned the operation of different types of cameras. We were taught how to take ordinary photographs with 35‑millimeter cameras, and how to photograph documents with the small Minox. We were instructed on taking photos from cars, photos of distant objects, photos of a moving person. Our preliminary work was in class, followed by photography practice under real conditions on city streets. We also learned the use of microdots and of latent photography for the secret transmittal of information. It was demonstrated that material can be photographed and reduced to a size little larger than a pinhead, and this microdot can then be concealed under a stamp or amidst writing in a letter. Through the use of latent photography, a print can be placed on a sheet of special paper, but remains invisible until properly developed. The paper may be in the form of a postcard, and the phony postcard can be sent through the mails to its destination, with its true contents not being apparent to the naked eye.

We received instruction in various methods that can be utilized to recruit persons, generally foreigners, who would be useful to Cuban Intelligence. We were told that our recruitment lessons were based on the experiences of Soviet Intelligence. Most emphasis was placed on recruitment based on ideological sympathies: a person who was in accord with the Cuban Revolution would likely be susceptible to overtures. Other recruitment methods that were described were blackmail ‑ forcing a person to cooperate; sex ‑ utilizing sex to entrap a person; and money ‑ purchasing a person's services. We were also told about "recruitment under another flag." In this method, a person whose sympathies were with the "North Americans" would be approached by a Cuban agent posing as a C.I.A. agent, and asked to undertake a task. He would think he was doing this for the C.I.A., but actually it would be for D.G.I. The task assigned might be, for example, to have the person join an exile organization and report on its activities. He would believe his reports were for the benefit of Washington; instead they would be going to Havana. The least desirable form of recruitment was that carried out through the use of money. Persons whose services were purchased might well also sell their services to an enemy. We were told that a potential recruit should be studied carefully before an approach was made: the future agent's habits, friends, likes and dislikes ‑ all this should be scrutinized, because any of these factors might later have a bearing on the person's work for Cuban Intelligence.

Communications are of vital importance to espionage agents, and we learned of a wide range of communications methods. Whatever the method used, we were advised that all intelligence messages were to be transmitted in code. We were shown how messages could be converted into five‑digit sets of numbers, a basic type of code. Messages transmitted in ordinary letters, we were told, could be written in invisible ink, to be developed by the person receiving the letters. An agent might find a radio to be useful, but he might also find himself using such simple things as thumbtacks. If agent A was to meet agent B, and agent A knew he was being followed and wanted to warn B, he could leave a yellow thumbtack in a post or a tree at a prearranged place. A red tack would mean severe danger; a white tack meant that everything was normal. Spy rings had in the past been broken up, the instructors warned, because of breaches in communications, sometimes among the agents themselves, sometimes in communications with their headquarters in their homelands.

The use of tacks or nails stuck in wood were a form of signal, but we were also told of another kind of signal. This was a danger signal, and we were to be on the watch for it among subagents or other persons with whom they might be working. A strange phone call, a puzzling telegram, these might indicate the person was in contact with the enemy. The person might receive a letter from abroad in which a "sick uncle" was mentioned, an uncle who was desirous of seeing him‑this could be a secret message ordering an enemy agent to report to his home country.

Although there was talk in the classes of sophisticated communications equipment, we did not see any of it. Some instructors were openly resentful of the Russians over this. Having worked in Intelligence they knew that the Russians had good equipment, but were not supplying it to the Cubans. We were told we would have to make do with the inferior equipment that was available to us.

In preparation for serving abroad, we learned of two areas with which we must become familiar regarding the place (presumably a city) in which we would work: "operational situation" and "operational resources." The "operational situation" consisted of the characteristics of the city and its population as a whole. The intelligence agent must know the city's communications, transportation systems, economic life, politics, streets, and social composition. "Operational resources" referred, simply, to places and persons that could be helpful in transmitting messages. A hole in a tree or a wall could be used for depositing a message, to be picked up later by another person: this would be an operational resource. So would a place of contact ‑ a cafe, a park, a path by a river‑where two agents could meet. An inanimate object in which a message could be concealed was a "dead mailbox"; a "live mailbox" was a person who received messages in his home and then turned them over to another agent. Also considered to be resources were "places for passing," that is, locations where messages or objects could quickly be given by one person to another, without onlookers being likely to notice anything. Subways were considered best for this kind of transference.

"Sources of information" were another subject of study for us as future espionage agents. The foreign ministry of a country was cited as a prime source for useful information, as are most government departments. We were instructed on how to penetrate an organization in order to obtain information from it. The first step was to study in as great a detail as was feasible the personnel who worked in that organization. This would include gathering data on the type of people employed, where they lived, where they ate, their habits, vices, weaknesses, friends, how they were selected for their jobs. The next step was to pick an agent, or perhaps a willing third party, who appeared qualified to become friendly with one or more of the employees of the target organization. Then the process would begin of befriending an employee, and eventually extracting information from him. We student spies were told that when we used a subagent (often a local national) we must treat that person well, must keep him content, must see that his life was agreeable as possible. He must be complimented on tasks done well, but he must also be reprimanded when reproof was called for. The Cuban official must also "watch over" a subagent's political ideology.

These were the courses directly related to intelligence work. Other courses rounded out our general preparation for governmental service, especially duty abroad. There were political classes which dealt with politics both at home and abroad, practical as well as theoretical. We would break up into small groups of four or five men each and study and discuss Fidel Castro's latest speech. Instructors would lecture on Cuba's international policies, especially in relation to those of other countries, "socialist" as well as "imperialist." We also learned about such matters as philosophy, political economy, historic materialism, and dialectic materialism.

There was instruction on how an Intelligence official was to behave abroad. We were told we would have a trabajo de manto (a cover job) which would conceal our work as espionage agents. This cover would probably consist of a regular post on the diplomatic staff of the Cuban embassy to which we were assigned. We were told that the more careful and conscientious we were about our cover jobs, the better we could carry out our intelligence tasks. It was made clear, however, that intelligence work always had priority over all other work. If we were in the midst of a diplomatic task, and an intelligence job had to be done, the diplomatic work had to be postponed. As part of our cover, we were told we would involve ourselves in the normal activities of diplomatic life: go to cocktail parties, attend cultural acts, be present at official functions, and in general live exactly as regular diplomats did. Correct behavior at all times was stressed. Also emphasized was the necessity of maintaining security. Important papers were to be kept locked up, and Intelligence personnel were never to discuss their work with outsiders or in places where they might be overheard, or where there might be listening devices. We were cautioned that such devices might be planted in our homes, even our bedrooms, by the counterintelligence organizations of the countries in which we were stationed. Particular care must be taken, we were told, to protect the identities of other agents, as well as the agents' addresses.

We lived under strict military discipline. We wore our olive‑green fatigues at all times, and we had to assemble in formation for roll call in the morning, at the raising and lowering of the flag, before meals, before classes, and before retiring at night. We were required to enter the dining room in silence, and there could be no rattling of cutlery against plates. We were instructed in the use of various types of weapons, among them Browning pistols, Belgian rifles, and Czech submachine guns. We were taught how to disassemble, assemble, and maintain these weapons, and then, on a target range, we learned how to fire them. Away from the school, we were told to identify ourselves as students at a military‑political school. We were not to say we were in Intelligence, not even if we should happen to be arrested for anything, or even to our wives (an order which I chose to overlook). We were periodically taken to the Naval Hospital for physical examinations, and here we identified ourselves as being members of a "special unit" of the Ministry of Revolutionary Armed Forces.

Despite the gravity of its purpose, the intelligence school had some of the characteristics of male schools anywhere. There was a sports program (karate was obligatory). There was the school disciplinarian, an Army sergeant who demanded strict adherence to military norms ‑ he insisted that before a pitcher of water could be moved from one dining room table to another, formal permission had to be asked of him. There was the school "mascot," student No. 11, who was liked by all but who never seemed to do anything right. There was the school prankster, No. 5, who during target practice would let out a yell and fall as if he had been accidentally shot ‑ and then one day he was injured by a blank shell fired close by, and when he yelled no one believed him. I was not averse to pulling practical jokes of my own. On one occasion, during a class on weapons, I managed to slide a branch into the barrel of a fellow student's submachine gun, where it was found during inspection by the apoplectic sergeant.

The school had its equivalent of "the old boys." In this case these were a group of hard‑core Communists who held their own meetings, from which the other students were barred. The Communists considered themselves to be superior because of their political education, and they claimed to be knowledgeable about almost everything, all of which engendered a good deal of resentment among the rest of us. We noticed, with ironic appreciation, that the Communists even preferred to fight among themselves.

The economy of Cuba is heavily dependent on the country's sugar and other crops, and therefore participation in harvesting is a civic duty expected of all citizens, those who live in cities as well as those in rural areas. We at the intelligence school were not exempted from this "voluntary" work. All had to put in time in the fields. We were told, "To be a good official you must also be a good worker."

Cuba has its own version of Stakhanovism, known as emulacion. At the school, we were divided into nucleos. Weekly records were posted on a bulletin board so that the progress of each nucleus could be seen by all. On one occasion, because I had done very well in studies, discipline, sports, and "volunteer" work, I was honored as a "vanguard" worker.

All told, there were about thirty students at the school. Some arrived later than others; a number left earlier, apparently to fill D.G.I. personnel requirements. Only one student was expelled, and this was evidently due to something in his past, not because of any occurrence at the school.

The full course of studies was to have lasted one year. After eight months, however, most of the individual courses had been just about completed, and the instructors were coming only sporadically. To help fill in the schedule, lessons in French and English were added to the studies.

One afternoon, some nine months after I had arrived at the school, I was summoned to the Director's office. This meant that either I was to be admonished about something or was to be released from further study. It turned out to be the latter. The director complimented me on my work and my behavior and informed me that my studies were complete. I was told to pack my personal possessions, and to set aside those things that belonged to the school. When I emerged from the office, other students gathered around to ask me why I had been summoned, and when I happily told them, they congratulated me warmly.

The next day I was taken from the school by an official of D.G.I.'s Section III.