Cuban Executioner’s Testimony: Castro Regime Revelations

by Mark Thompson

Former Soldier Reveals Grisly Details of Early Castro Regime Repression at La CabaƱa Fortress

A harrowing firsthand account from Vicente HernƔndez Brito, a former soldier at the infamous La CabaƱa fortress, sheds new light on the systematic brutality that characterized the initial years of the Cuban Revolution.

Vicente HernƔndez Brito, now 77 years old, has broken decades of silence to detail the chilling procedures surrounding executions carried out under the authority of revolutionary courts. His testimony, recently documented in a report for CubaNet, paints a stark picture of a regime that employed not only overt violence but also calculated psychological torment, and ultimately discarded those who carried it out.

The Mechanics of State-Sponsored Killing

HernĆ”ndez Brito described a meticulously planned process for carrying out the death sentences. ā€œFirst bridge with the cage, when we brought the prisoners to take them to the chapel, to take them to execute. There the order was heard: ‘Executive officer, comply with the judgment of the revolutionary court. On behalf of the homeland and the town, proceed.’ Thus the prisoners were shot,ā€ he recalled, conveying a sense of both resignation and enduring trauma.

The executions weren’t simply haphazard acts of violence. Everything, according to HernĆ”ndez Brito, was ā€œmillimetrically calculated.ā€ He explained the presence of a sandbag-protected square post on the second bridge, designed to stop stray bullets. ā€œWhen they shot someone, the projectile passed it and was splining the stick,ā€ he stated. Reflectors illuminated the execution grounds, typically in the early morning hours, ensuring the sounds of gunfire reverberated throughout the prison, intended to instill fear in the remaining inmates. ā€œThe prisoners shouted ā€˜murderer!’ when they saw that they took someone to the wall,ā€ he added.

Dehumanization and Psychological Torture

Before facing the firing squad, prisoners were subjected to a dehumanizing ritual. They were stripped of all personal belongings, even belts and shoelaces, to prevent suicide attempts. ā€œThey took their belt to the prisoners and cords so that they would not hang. From there they were lowered by a ladder where they were shot, down there,ā€ HernĆ”ndez Brito explained, highlighting the systematic stripping of dignity.

The brutality extended beyond physical violence. HernĆ”ndez Brito detailed a particularly horrific form of psychological torture known as ā€œEl Saladito,ā€ a punishment cell located ā€œunder the water tank, where you dropped a head in your head for hours.ā€ He described how prisoners were subjected to a constant drip of water, driving them to the brink of insanity. ā€œTwelve hours there they drove you crazy, but you couldn’t move or turn away the drop. Hence the name. They went crazy,ā€ he said.

From Prison to Tourist Attraction: A Bitter Irony

Today, La CabaƱa stands as a tourist attraction, drawing visitors to its historic walls. However, HernĆ”ndez Brito views this transformation with profound irony. ā€œThis place was full of prisoners. Now this is for tourists, but this was ā€˜bad times since you entered.’ It was a terrible place. Nothing good came here,ā€ he lamented.

The repression, he emphasized, wasn’t limited to those deemed political opponents. Individuals faced imprisonment for minor offenses, such as possessing a small amount of foreign currency. ā€œDo you know how much someone was thrown out for legal membership in currencies? Three years. To another, for having two or three dollars in your pocket, six years for currency traffic.ā€

Witness to the Death of a Symbol: Pedro Luis Boitel

One of the most poignant moments of HernĆ”ndez Brito’s testimony centers on the death of Pedro Luis Boitel, a prominent symbol of resistance to Castroism. HernĆ”ndez Brito recounted being a direct witness to Boitel’s final moments. ā€œI was with a checkpoint that morning and went to bring coffee to the nursing post. And they tell me: ‘The one that is in there is dying.’ I asked: ‘Pedro Luis?’ They told me: ‘Yes, it’s Pedro Luis.ā€™ā€

He described the profound impact Boitel’s death had on the prisoners. ā€œWhen he died, I asked the lieutenant for permission to close his eyes. And that was when all the prisoners began to sing the national anthem. They gutting us all. No one could move. No one could leave.ā€ HernĆ”ndez Brito later learned of the establishment of an International Human Rights Award in Boitel’s honor, a revelation that filled him with pride. ā€œI was very excited. I didn’t know that this recognition existed. I, this old man who is here, is proud to have closed Pedro Luis’s eyes. He died because he was very weak.ā€

A Forgotten Soldier’s Disillusionment

HernĆ”ndez Brito’s involvement with the revolutionary government didn’t end with his service at La CabaƱa. He later participated as an ā€œinternationalist worker,ā€ undergoing military training before being deployed on civil missions, including a stint in Angola.

However, his current reality stands in stark contrast to the promises of the revolution. He now lives in poverty, relying on his daughter’s assistance to survive. ā€œMy colleagues and people come and eat from the garbage dumps. This has given a radical change, which is not for what we fight,ā€ he confessed. He questioned the fate of the revolution’s ideals, asking, ā€œIs the health ended or it is not over? Is the guilt of all those things by imperialism?ā€

Vicente HernĆ”ndez Brito’s testimony serves as a raw and unsettling window into the inner workings of repression during the early years of Castroism. More than a confession, it is a powerful indictment of a system that justified death ā€œin the name of the homeland and the people,ā€ and then abandoned those who enforced its will. It is a crucial call for historical memory, forcing a reckoning with the foundations of a regime built on fear and ultimately, disillusionment.

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