¡Presente!

Photo of a Brigade Member

View from the crowd

At just past midnight on the morning of April 17, 1961, an expeditionary force of approximately 1,500 men, assisted by naval and air forces, attempted an invasion of Cuba in order to overthrow the government headed by Fidel Castro. Known as Brigade 2506, they landed on the beach known as Playa Giròn, at the mouth of a bay called the Bahia de Cochinos. In Spanish-speaking countries, this event is remembered as La Bataya de Giròn. In the United States it is remembered by the English name, the Bay of Pigs.

The invasion lasted three days and resulted in a loss for the American-backed expeditionary force. There are numbers, of course: 118 killed and 1,202 captured. On the defenders' side 176 were killed and 4,000 wounded. The invaders put up a strong fight. Many would languish in prison and face execution in the days that followed the invasion. Eventually, most would make it back to the United States, many to Miami. More than a loss of the battle, though, the Bay of Pigs marked the end of any further significant attempts to over-throw the Castro Government and to reverse its Marxist revolution. La Revoluciòn consolidated its grip power. Those caught on the other side of this Caribbean Iron Curtain settled into a life as Revolucionarios, whether by choice or circumstance; those caught on this side became exiles, without any real choice.  The temporary became permanent. 

[more after the break]

Every year veterans of the invasion gather at the Bay of Pigs memorial in Miami in a solemn ceremony to honor the memory of their fallen comrades. One by one they read the names of the fallen. In response to each name, the veterans answer “¡presente!”, Spanish for “present.” With this word they remind themselves, others present, and, in their way, the world at large that these men live on in their memories and that their dream lives on in their hearts.

In my foreign policy courses in college, we had a saying: “It's not history unless it fifty years old.” Surveying the veterans around me reminded me of this saying. At fifty-one the Bay of Pigs invasion now qualifies as history. There was a palpable sense at the memorial that this generation is passing from the scene. Many of the speakers, political and social figures, now belong to my generation, a generation with one foot in each culture, with family and memories of Cuba, but with ties and lives in the United States. We are a generation that saw the pain in our parents eyes, the longing for a homeland that they so desperately missed. They made their lives in the United States, and though many shed blood for this country as well, their hearts remained in their country of birth.

As surely as the sun rises in the east, the day will come when this generation finally passes from the scene. Then, it will be up to our generation to gather every April 17^th and answer “¡presente!”.

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