Today was the 45th anniversary of the Bay of Pigs invasion.
My grandfather captained a ship (an ammo and supply ship that also was carrying two battalions of troops; the Houston) and my uncle, who was only 20, served on the same ship. The ship was on it's way to reinforce and resupply the second battalion fighting in the Zapata swamps who were easily overrun after the Houston was disabled by Castro's air force. My grandfather managed to get the ship to a reef close off the coast, for the most part saving the crew of the ship as well as the battalions it was transporting.
The two of them were captured and ended up spending the 20 months in a POW camp there where my uncle lost the use of one of his hands. I don't believe I have ever really thought this before with any conviction, but I hope that my uncle and mother are one day able to set foot upon a free cuba again. Earlier today I spoke to someone briefly in which I said yes, I'm cuban, but 'look at me, I'm basically just white', now though, possibly for the first time, I actually feel like I can mean it if I were to say that I'm Cuban, without feeling like I'm disgracing what it means.
Five years ago my uncle said this to CNN: "He[Castro] beat us in the Bay of Pigs, I still believe that the battle of ideas -- the battle for the spirit of man -- that, he has not won. There is still hope that Cuba will someday be free."
this has been quzar with an insanely out of character post. i hope you enjoyed it.
