Read Online The Seeds of Fiction by Richard Greene, Bernard Diederich - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Greene, Bernard Diederich
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Then they killed the owner.
The Kamoken were forced to discourage recruits because they had no arms or food to offer them. The peasants in the mountains were dirt poor. Many couldnât even afford a machete and had to cultivate their land with their hands, scratching between the rocks to plant millet.
Water was also a problem for the guerrillas. During the sixteen days it took to cross Morne La Selle and other rocky mountains, they found little food or water to purchase. To quench their thirst and hunger some of the rebels ate chocolate-coated laxatives with disastrous results.
Baptiste was a tough leader, but he was also paranoid. He forced his men to move miles at a time and forbade them to drink from waterholes, fearing they were poisoned. Towards the end of July the Kamoken were astride the HaitianâDominican border. Baptiste ordered the men to cross back into the Dominican Republic to find rations, but Gérard Lafontant resisted, adamant they remain in Haitian territory. Baptiste became angry at Lafontantâs insubordination, which he likened to an act of mutiny. He levelled his rifle at Lafontantâs head at point-blank range and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The gun misfired.
In the end, the sick and hungry guerrillas buried their weapons and walked across the border on to Dominican soil, where they were promptly taken prisoner by an army patrol. Two weeks later they were released back in the mountainous region along the border.
On 5 August 1964 the Kamoken returned to their old base camp in Haitiâs Morne La Selle, a stoneâs throw from the Dominican border post at El Aguacate. The Dominican soldiers had orders from their commander to ignore the Haitian guerrillas if they re-entered the country.
The ragtag force retrieved their old firearms and began to act like disciplined fighters. Columns went out on forays against Macoutes and military targets. On 11 August they sabotaged the Pine Forest sawmill belonging to Papa Docâs sister-in-law and her husband who had the timber monopoly. Four days later another column carried out a successful night attack on the Haitian military border post at Savane Zombi. The soldiers and Macoutes fled, leaving behind their equipment and, more importantly, the postâs archives. The guerrillas set fire to the post and two houses belonging to the local Macoute chieftain. That same afternoon another Kamoken column ambushed a truckload of Papa Docâs militia who were travelling slowly over the rugged mountain road that led from Thiotte to Port-au-Prince, inflicting four casualties.
Several days later a messenger arrived at my home in Santo Domingo with a request for guerrilla reinforcements, arms, food, medicines and winter wear. We supplied sweaters, which we had dyed dark green, food and medicines, but there were no heavy weapons.
I volunteered transport. Since my Volkswagen Beetle was too small I asked a friend, the owner of Santo Domingo Motors, if heâd let me borrow a car for the weekend. He said that if I ârepossessedâ an automobile a Cuban exile had refused to return the car would be mine for the weekend. I took two burly Haitians with me and had no trouble repossessing the late-model American car.
At midday on 24 August, loaded down with food and clothing, three Haitian friends and I took off for the border. Hurricane Cleo was approaching the south coast of Hispaniola. The sun disappeared behind thick thunderclouds, and the sky was streaked with an eerie yellow light. We raced along the coastal road in gusting winds and heavy rain until we reached the mountain road to El Aguacate. Here the dirt road had turned to thick mud and the going became rough and slow. At times the wheels would spin and the heavy car would slide backwards on the difficult road.
When we finally drove into the military compound of El Aguacate the sentries ignored us. Fred Baptiste strode out of the mountain fog accompanied by a squad of his men.
The Kamoken were forced to discourage recruits because they had no arms or food to offer them. The peasants in the mountains were dirt poor. Many couldnât even afford a machete and had to cultivate their land with their hands, scratching between the rocks to plant millet.
Water was also a problem for the guerrillas. During the sixteen days it took to cross Morne La Selle and other rocky mountains, they found little food or water to purchase. To quench their thirst and hunger some of the rebels ate chocolate-coated laxatives with disastrous results.
Baptiste was a tough leader, but he was also paranoid. He forced his men to move miles at a time and forbade them to drink from waterholes, fearing they were poisoned. Towards the end of July the Kamoken were astride the HaitianâDominican border. Baptiste ordered the men to cross back into the Dominican Republic to find rations, but Gérard Lafontant resisted, adamant they remain in Haitian territory. Baptiste became angry at Lafontantâs insubordination, which he likened to an act of mutiny. He levelled his rifle at Lafontantâs head at point-blank range and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The gun misfired.
In the end, the sick and hungry guerrillas buried their weapons and walked across the border on to Dominican soil, where they were promptly taken prisoner by an army patrol. Two weeks later they were released back in the mountainous region along the border.
On 5 August 1964 the Kamoken returned to their old base camp in Haitiâs Morne La Selle, a stoneâs throw from the Dominican border post at El Aguacate. The Dominican soldiers had orders from their commander to ignore the Haitian guerrillas if they re-entered the country.
The ragtag force retrieved their old firearms and began to act like disciplined fighters. Columns went out on forays against Macoutes and military targets. On 11 August they sabotaged the Pine Forest sawmill belonging to Papa Docâs sister-in-law and her husband who had the timber monopoly. Four days later another column carried out a successful night attack on the Haitian military border post at Savane Zombi. The soldiers and Macoutes fled, leaving behind their equipment and, more importantly, the postâs archives. The guerrillas set fire to the post and two houses belonging to the local Macoute chieftain. That same afternoon another Kamoken column ambushed a truckload of Papa Docâs militia who were travelling slowly over the rugged mountain road that led from Thiotte to Port-au-Prince, inflicting four casualties.
Several days later a messenger arrived at my home in Santo Domingo with a request for guerrilla reinforcements, arms, food, medicines and winter wear. We supplied sweaters, which we had dyed dark green, food and medicines, but there were no heavy weapons.
I volunteered transport. Since my Volkswagen Beetle was too small I asked a friend, the owner of Santo Domingo Motors, if heâd let me borrow a car for the weekend. He said that if I ârepossessedâ an automobile a Cuban exile had refused to return the car would be mine for the weekend. I took two burly Haitians with me and had no trouble repossessing the late-model American car.
At midday on 24 August, loaded down with food and clothing, three Haitian friends and I took off for the border. Hurricane Cleo was approaching the south coast of Hispaniola. The sun disappeared behind thick thunderclouds, and the sky was streaked with an eerie yellow light. We raced along the coastal road in gusting winds and heavy rain until we reached the mountain road to El Aguacate. Here the dirt road had turned to thick mud and the going became rough and slow. At times the wheels would spin and the heavy car would slide backwards on the difficult road.
When we finally drove into the military compound of El Aguacate the sentries ignored us. Fred Baptiste strode out of the mountain fog accompanied by a squad of his men.
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