CESAR'S WARS
The Rise of America's Special Forces
by
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Guatemala 1960: five months prior to the Bay of Pigs invasion. Near the end of the special training sessions that I conducted with the Mayan, in the early morning of Sunday, November 13th I received a radio call from President Ydigoris. He sounded desperate. In typical Latin American style, part of the military had turned against him, but another part had remained loyal. Allegiances were shifting. “You've got the only armed force in the country that I can trust,” he said. “OK. Fine. What do you want me to do?” “Can you secure the airfield at Retalhuleu?” “I'll have to check with my people.” “We don't have much time.” “Let me call you back after I get confirmation.” “How many men do you have?” “Two hundred Cubans and fifty Mayan.” “I need that airfield secured.” “I understand.” My contact at the US Embassy agreed that I should proceed to the airbase at Retalhuleu and standby for further instructions. We built this airbase to train the Cuban pilots. We had B-26es there. We could not let them fall into the wrong hands. I issued M-14 rifles and Thompson submachine guns to my men, Cuban and Mayan alike. I spent an hour organizing them into fire-maneuver teams, four men per team, working in pairs. I demonstrated how one side lays a base of fire to cover the advance of the other side, the same concept that I used in Korea. In the initial organizational rush, a few of the Cubans were mixed in with the Indians. The Cubans refused to cooperate. The training came to a halt. “What is this? This is impossible!” The Cubans threw up their hands and complained like little children. “What are you doing to us?” “We’ve got an emergency situation here. Deal with it.” “This is an insult!” “Get back to work.” Oscar, who had been assigned to a team that was half Mayan and half Cuban, shook his head in disgust. He was a bear of a man, with a heavy beard and dark complexion. When it came to working with the Mayan, he and I had clashed several times before. “I thought you understood! This is our fight and ours alone! What you’re asking is—” “You shut up now.” I reached into my holster and removed my gun. Before he could react, I reached up and put the barrel of my snubnosed .38 on his temple. “You shut up or you're dead.” All movement among the two hundred and fifty men stopped. Immediately. All sound as well. “You follow my orders and keep your mouth shut. This is no game. I don't want to hear about your goddamn problems. Is that clear?” I kept that gun pressed hard against Oscar’s temple, but I turned my head and swept my eyes across my men. “Today, we fight as one.” José, whom I had come to know well, looked at me curiously. Up until that moment, to him and to the rest of the Cubans, I had been a soldier of fortune, hired by Goudie, a Cuban millionaire, to be the lead trainer. Now he knew better. Finally, he took one step forward, raised his right arm and saluted me. “Sir, yes sir!” The Cubans stared at him. Then Alejandro and Hugo and Andrés and a few of the other leaders saluted. The men began to nod their heads. I looked up into Oscar’s dark eyes. He turned his head to look at José. Then he looked back down at me. Slowly, he raised his hand and saluted. I returned his salute and lowered my weapon. Although all two hundred and fifty men were armed, not one gave me cause for concern. “We’re in business,” I thought. We moved fast. By midmorning I had my men loaded on the trucks. Down we went out of the mountains to Retalhuleu. I sat next to the driver of the first truck. Twenty minutes after passing the big house at the entrance to Finca Helvetia and giving the thumbs up to Carl, we hit a roadblock. Five youngsters in military uniforms were stopping all traffic. The shortest and fattest of the bunch, rifle in hand, took a step up the dirt road towards our truck. “Where is your identification?” “Lift the goddamn barrier. We're coming through.” “No, no! I need to see identification.” “Look at all of the rifles aimed at your head. You don't have a chance. Move these barriers out of the way. We're coming through.” We reached the airbase at Retalhuleu without further incident. Pete Enders, the Agency person in charge, and a good friend, met us at the gate. His instructions were clear. Once I was fully deployed, he was wanted back in the capital. Until his return, I was in charge. The situation was difficult to assess. Several hundred, well-armed Guatemalan troops were guarding the airfield. Although they allowed my troops to enter, I did not know which side they were on. I therefore deployed my men around the control tower and the main hangar area where the B26es were positioned. Before I went up to my position in the tower I designated one of the Cubans, Alejandro del Valle, to be my second-in-command. Alejandro stood out in every crowd. He was blonde haired and blue eyed, a real Don Juan with a thousand stories to tell, and a trustworthy leader. He became the commander of the airborne battalion that I created later on. Standing in the light midday mist at the base of the control tower, I told him, “I don’t know how this thing is going to play out. Keep an eye on me up there. If I wave to you from the tower, open fire on every goddamn Guatemalan you see. Cut 'em down. Don't ask any questions. Cut 'em down. If you hear any firing take place in the control tower the same. Open up on all of them. Spare no one. But don't touch the Mayan. They're with us.”
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About the Book
CESAR’S WARS is based on the true story of Roberto César Montiel, a Special Forces soldier and CIA operative who made American history for 35 years: The portable atomic bomb. The creation of Special Forces. The Bay of Pigs. The School of the Americas. Korea. Vietnam. Operation Phoenix. Operation Condor. The Contras. Non-official Cover. Interrogations. Torture. Through it all, his family paid the price. There were other women. PTSD. Alcoholism and abuse. In the end, the violence always comes full circle. “You’re like a Mafia wife,” his oldest son tells his mother. “The more dad kills, the more you pray.”
CESAR’S WARS is also the tale of a first generation American family that struggles to endure the sacrifices and understand the sins committed in the name of God, country, democracy and empire. From the rebuilding of post-war Europe and Japan, through the turbulent 1960s, and the covert South American operations of the 1980s and beyond, this is a story of a family and a nation in crisis.
CESAR’S WARS: The Rise of America’s Special Forces is the first book in a four-part series. The story is told mainly from the first-person, no-nonsense point of view of Roberto, a complex and principled patriot. But he does not always have the last word. The voice of his wife, Faith, who struggles through wars and personal tragedy to hold the family together, and his oldest son, Roberto César Jr., who questions everything that his father stands for, are also presented. Based on over two hundred hours of taped interviews, their stories vividly illuminate the cloaked, forward guard operations that marked the Cold War, as well as the endless interpersonal repercussions – between husband and wife, father and son, and brother and brother – that are the personal cost of war.