Vicente Hernández Brito, a former soldier stationed at the Fortress of San Carlos de La Cabaña during the early years of Castro's regime, has shared a harrowing account of the repressive methods that defined the beginning of the so-called Cuban Revolution. Now ill, aged, and forgotten, Hernández recently participated in a tour—reported by CubaNet—where he not only documented the horrors of the firing squad wall but also the silent tragedy of those who executed the machinery of terror in the name of a cause, only to be discarded by the same system.
The Execution Process Explained
Vicente Hernández candidly describes how executions dictated by revolutionary tribunals were carried out. "First bridge with the cage, when we brought prisoners to take them to the chapel, to take them to be executed. There, the order was heard: ‘Execution officer, carry out the Revolutionary Tribunal’s sentence. In the name of the nation and the people, proceed.’ That’s how the prisoners were shot," he recalled with a mix of resignation and trauma.
Every detail was meticulously planned. "At the second bridge, in a corner, there was a pole with sandbags behind it. It was square. When someone was shot, the bullet would pass through and splinter the pole," he explained. He recounted that spotlights were turned on before each execution, usually at dawn, and the gunshots were heard by all the prisoners in the barracks. "The prisoners shouted ‘murderer!’ when they saw someone being taken to the wall," he added.
The Ritual Before Death
Before facing the firing squad, prisoners were stripped even of their most personal belongings, in a procedure as impersonal as it was brutal. "They took the belt from the prisoners and the laces so they wouldn’t hang themselves. Then they were taken down a staircase to where they were shot, down there," the elderly man explained, hinting at the systematic protocol that stripped men of all dignity.
There was also psychological torture. Hernández describes what was known as the "saladito," a punishment cell "under the water tank, where a drop would fall on your head for hours. Twelve hours there would drive you crazy, but you couldn’t move or avoid the drop. That’s where the name comes from. They went crazy," he explained.
La Cabaña: From Prison to Tourist Attraction
With bitter irony, Hernández observes how La Cabaña has now become a tourist site, an attraction for both visitors and Cubans alike. But he remembers its true function. "This place was full of prisoners. Now it’s for tourists, but it was ‘bad moments from the moment you entered.’ It was a terrible place. Nothing good happened here," he stated.
Repression was not limited to ideological opponents. "Do you know how long someone got for having a legal possession in foreign currency? Three years. Another, for having two or three dollars in his pocket, six years for currency trafficking."
The Death of Pedro Luis Boitel: A Symbol
One of the most gripping parts of his account is the death of Pedro Luis Boitel, a symbol of resistance against Castroism. Hernández Brito claims to have been a direct witness to his final moments: “I was on guard that morning and went up to bring coffee to the infirmary post. And they tell me: ‘That one inside is dying.’ I asked, ‘Pedro Luis?’ They said, ‘Yes, it’s Pedro Luis.’”
What happened next remained etched in his memory forever. "When he died, I asked the lieutenant for permission to close his eyes. And that’s when all the prisoners started singing the national anthem. They quartered us all. No one could move. No one could leave," he recounted.
Decades later, Hernández learned that an international human rights award was established in Boitel's honor, and he was moved to learn of it. "I got very emotional. I didn’t know that recognition existed. It made me proud. I, this old man here, am proud to have closed Pedro Luis’s eyes. He died because he was very weak," he concluded.
From Regime Servant to Forgotten
Later on, Hernández Brito took part as an “internationalist worker” and was part of the regime’s propaganda apparatus. “To be an internationalist worker, you have to undergo military training before going on a civil mission. Here they say no, that the doctors who go to Venezuela aren’t military, but to be able to work in Angola, for example, I had to train as a soldier.”
Today, however, he lives a retirement that contradicts the promises of the Revolution. "My colleagues and people come and eat from the garbage. This has taken a radical change, which is not what we fought for," he confessed.
With a trembling voice, he acknowledged the misery he has ended up in: "I thought that when I retired, I would be calm, without problems, with a secured old age: with medicines, with medical care. If it hadn’t been for my daughter’s help, I don’t know where I’d be. Dead for sure."
And he ended by posing a question that synthesizes the disillusionment of an entire generation: "Is health over or not? Is imperialism to blame for all those things?"
The testimony of Vicente Hernández Brito is a stark window into the internal workings of repression during the early days of Castroism. More than a confession, it is a denunciation: not only against the executioners but also against the structure that trained them, used them, and finally discarded them. It also constitutes an urgent call to historical memory, forcing us to look unfiltered at the foundations of a system that justified death "in the name of the nation and the people," and then left its own "soldiers" in complete abandonment.
Insights into the Repression and Legacy of Castro's Regime
What methods did the Castro regime use for executions?
The executions were meticulously planned, with prisoners taken to the chapel and executed under the orders of the Revolutionary Tribunal. Spotlights were turned on before each execution, and gunshots were heard by all prisoners.
How did Vicente Hernández Brito describe the psychological torture?
Hernández described a punishment cell known as the "saladito," where prisoners were subjected to a drop of water falling on their heads for hours, causing psychological distress.
What transformation has La Cabaña undergone?
La Cabaña, once a prison filled with political prisoners, has now become a tourist attraction, overshadowing its grim history as a site of repression and execution.