Cuba: the Truth, the Lies, and the Cover-Ups

By Dr. Julio Antonio del Mármol

In this volume, the reader is transported back to 1960, where newly minted master spy Julio Antonio del Marmol begins his career by stealing the briefcase of Che Guevara from inside the provincial military headquarters of the Rebel Army in Pinar del Rio. This action propels him into a new, more dangerous sphere of operation as a spy as he works his way into the inner circles of the most paranoid mind of the leaders of the Cuban revolution, Che Guevarawho seeks to groom the young man as his own protg KGB agent! The story details seemingly unbelievable and undoubtedly controversial events surrounding the blueprints to create communist revolutions, spread corruption, and commit assassinations too outrageous to be fiction.

The author tells the story not merely as a narratorhe was an active participant in these events as part of the first steps in his life as a thirteen-year-old spy as he retrieved important documents for his friends in his intelligence network. Only when they reviewed the data did he realize the sheer magnitude of what he had accomplished as he exposed what really lay behind Cuba: the truth, the lies, and the cover-ups.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Apr 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781490773162

Dr. Julio Antonio del Mármol

Dr. del Marmol became the youngest commander in the Cuban Revolution at the age of twelve. By thirteen, he had become a spy on Castro’s regime for the West, taking secrets from Fidel’s very office, undetected for the next ten years. When his cover was blown in 1971, he was forced to flee the island and has carried on his fight for freedom on a global scale as an international spy.

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Copyright 2016 Dr. Julio Antonio del Mármol.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN

: 978-1-4907-7317-9 (sc)

ISBN

: 978-1-4907-7315-5 (hc)

ISBN

: 978-1-4907-7316-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016907073

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Trafford rev. 06/09/2016

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Contents

Dedication

Testimonial

Introduction

Prologue The Terror that Comes with Freedom

Chapter 1 The Discovered Treasure

Chapter 2 Human Organs on Demand

Chapter 3 KGB Agent 066614 (Che Guevara)

Chapter 4 My Brother, the Greatest Alibi

Chapter 5 The Declassification of the Treasure

Chapter 6 The Abduction

Chapter 7 The Wedding

Chapter 8 Sandra's Departure and Threat

Chapter 9 Al Erbuoc

Chapter 10 The Predatory Pedophile

Chapter 11 The First Two Keys to the Enigma of the JFK Assassination

DEDICATION

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Young Julio Antonio del Marmol with his parents, Leonardo and Verena

I would like to dedicate this book to the memory of my parents, Leonardo and Verena del Marmol. My father was my role model, my hero from whom I took my qualities of patriotism, loyalty, honesty, honor, and sense of ethics. From him I learned never to lower my standards of conduct no matter how low my enemies might go. As he put it, If a dog bites you and you bite it back, what does that make you? A dog, as well.

My mother was my unwavering supporter, the one person I could never fully hide my clandestine activities from. Even when she knew I was doing something dangerous, she unfailingly gave me her total backing, even to the point of endangering herself by assisting me in keeping my secrets. She taught me to love and respect every woman I meet, because---as she put it---Without women, where would any of us be? From her I learned to view women as the main source of life in God's creative process within nature. It is from her I received my sense of morality, concern for the wellbeing of others, ability to see things from another person's perspective, and unfailing optimism.

I loved both of my parents deeply, and it is one of the greatest satisfactions in my life that we were able to pull them safely out of Castro's communist paradise and bring them to the United States, where they were able to live out the rest of their lives in this genuine paradise of freedom. My thanks to you both for what you instilled in me and for making me into the man I am today. I pray that God has both of you seated in special places in the only real paradise in all of Creation---at His side in Heaven.

TESTIMONIAL

F or those who think they know the author of Cuba: The Truth, the Lies, and the Cover-ups , Dr. Julio Antonio del Marmol: I mean this with the utmost respect, but you don't really know who he is.

It has been the most profound honor in my life to work with him by his side so closely than I have become his personal confidant. It is a level of trust unheard of in his life and one I value more than my own existence. I have been a beneficiary of his vast experiences and generosity, and I have gotten to know his character. He is a man of such exemplary moral decency that he can at times seem to belong to a time long gone by.

And yet I have only known him, relatively speaking, for a short while---a decade or so. Who then could claim an even more intimate knowledge of who Dr. del Marmol is? The answer lay in Dr. Hector Zayas-Bazan y Perdomo, who we call in these histories is referred to as the Professor. Dr. Zayas-Bazan had known Dr. del Marmol since he was a youth, helping in the formation of Dr. del Marmol's character during those critical teenage years. He became Dr. del Marmol's mentor and grew to love him as a son. They remained at each other's side, no matter where in the world their journeys took them, growing older together. Dr. Zayas-Bazan, a fervent patriot and respected intelligence adviser, was the main contact between Dr. del Marmol and the rest of the intelligence community while they were in Cuba.

I was able to meet Dr. Zayas-Bazan on a few occasions, and I can say with absolute certainty that I could see not only where he had left his stamp on Dr. del Marmol, but could also see the mutual father-son bond the two shared.

Dr. Zayas-Bazan passed away peacefully in his sleep early in 2015. Rest in peace, Professor, secure in the knowledge that your great work will be carried on by your greatest protégé, Dr. Julio Antonio del Marmol.

Tad Atkinson

20 April, 2015

INTRODUCTION

A t the age of twelve, the author, Dr. Julio Antonio del Marmol, found that his destiny had taken him through extraordinary circumstances that happen only a few times in history during widespread social chaos, like those seen during the deranged turmoil of the Cuban Revolution in 1959. The supreme leader, Fidel Castro, nominated this young boy to be the Commander-in-Chief of the new army for the future.

As Fidel Castro went through a change of heart at the beginning of this tumultuous time, the youth went through his own conflict as he watched his childhood friends abandon the island, discontented with the complete disruption of democratic establishment and the institution of Marxist ideology by the new leaders. Julio Antonio del Marmol, the Young Commander, sadly remained behind and daily observed the freedom of the Cuban people evaporate as promise after promise was broken. In spite of the commitment to equality for all without distinction based on political or religious belief, the Castro brothers and Che Guevara ruthlessly hunted down and exterminated all opposition. His admiration towards the leaders turned into disappointment and frustration, as he watched the Castros' forces execute their enemies and commit the most horrendous crimes humanity had ever seen in their ambition to maintain power.

He concluded that this was not what the Cuban people had fought their revolution for and decided, before sharing these horrible experiences with anyone, including his father, to abandon the country as his friends had done. When he did share his intentions with his uncle, he received the most shocking surprise: his relative was a veteran master spy. His uncle proposed that he be trained to be the next in line, and Julio Antonio del Marmol became the youngest spy in modern history at the age of thirteen.

In this volume, the reader is transported back to 1960, where newly-minted master spy Julio Antonio del Marmol begins his career by stealing the briefcase of Che Guevara from inside the provincial military headquarters of the Rebel Army in Pinar del Rio. This action propels him into a new, more dangerous sphere of operation as a spy as he works his way into the inner circles of the most paranoid mind of the leaders of the Cuban revolution, Che Guevara---who seeks to groom the young man as his own protégé KGB agent! The story details seemingly unbelievable and undoubtedly controversial events surrounding the blueprints to create communist revolutions, spread corruption, and commit assassinations too outrageous to be fiction.

The author tells the story not merely as a narrator---he was an active participant in these events as part of the first steps in his life as a thirteen-year-old spy as he retrieved important documents for his friends in his intelligence network. Only when they reviewed the data did he realize the sheer magnitude of what he had accomplished as he exposed what really lay behind Cuba: the truth, the lies, and the cover-ups.

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The Cuban Lightning

Volume I of Rites of Passage of a Master Spy

The Truth: A Lonely and Ugly Being

The truth is like an ugly, lonely lady standing on the dance floor while everyone prefers to dance around her, because no one dares ask her to dance.

Under God's Flag

My heart has love for many lands and flags. All the countries in the world that embrace dignity and respect for our loving God and let their people live in peace, happiness, and freedom, these are the countries that earn and maintain my respect, and I keep a special place in my heart for them. I have not a single doubt in my mind that I will defend the freedom of each and every one of these countries with the last drop of my blood. I am committed continue my fight on a daily basis, without rest, until my last breath of air. I make this my universal duty under the only ultimate Commander-in-Chief: Almighty God. I feel I was born on their soil, and I am in my heart a small piece of every single one of them. These countries Satan tries to steal from us to bring more evil into the world in his drive to finally conquer our souls. He seeks to completely destroy peace, happiness, freedom, and love through his hateful armies of ambitious and unscrupulous men, who will not stop until they see the world go up in flames like the Hell they left behind. That is why each and every one of you should be involved in stopping these horrible forces once and for all. We need your help to defeat this evil and powerful enemy before it's too late. This could be your last call to fight under the flag of God and unite to defend from these horrible enemies what is left of this wonderful world which is the greatest and most precious gift to us from God.

Dr. Julio Antonio del Marmol

PROLOGUE

THE TERROR THAT COMES WITH FREEDOM

Pinar del Rio, a Small City

Capital of the Province of the Occidental Side of the Island of Cuba

Avenue Cabada

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The charcoal man and his family with their cart

M y friend Tite, the son of the charcoal man, told me of an incident that had left a terrible impression on him. It scarred him with a psychogenic disability for life---it was the cause of his stutter.

It happened early one morning in 1959, during the first months of the Revolution being in power. A crowd ran through the avenue, ignoring the picturesque boulevard lined with its old, tall pine trees, burning cars, and looting.

A man in his late twenties was running from the mob. From the opposite direction, an old horse-drawn wagon filled with scrap wood in the back and a couple of middle-aged blacks with a young kid riding in the coach slowly plodded through the streets. The wagon was forced to stop due to the press of the people, and the mob caught the young man as he attempted to dodge under the horses' legs.

The leader of the mob, a red-headed woman dressed in the olive green khaki uniform of the militia, screamed, We've got him!

She turned to one of the men in the mob. Are you sure this is the man?

A young girl of about nine years of age stood next her. The girl's hair was the same shade of red, and her eyes were a peculiar light green. Nearly half of the right side of the young girl's face was covered by a red birthmark. She was very dirty, wore no shoes, and was dressed in rags. Two of her front teeth were missing. She clasped in both her hands a large, liquid-filled pickle jar that had some objects floating inside.

Yes, the man replied, this is the man I saw several times coming out of the dictator Batista's intelligence headquarters to inform them of our movements as rebels in the city and the mountains.

Tie him up, she ordered.

Some of the men who were holding the prisoner proceeded to bind his arms and legs.

All the while, the man screamed, "I'm innocent! I'm with you guys! Maybe he saw me in that place, but all I was doing was delivering food to them, which I was paid to do. At the same time, I was looking in there to see what new weapons they had and what people they had there, and I passed the information along to Captain Clodomiro Miranda. You can ask him---I'm not a chivato, an informant for Batista! I am an informant for the Rebel Army, for you guys!"

The woman screamed, Bullshit! You are a liar---hold him down for me! Pull his tongue out. One of the men used some pliers to try to pull out and hold the unfortunate man's tongue. The man continued to struggle against the mob. She pulled out a large pair of scissors as the black family looked on from the coach in sheer horror. Helplessly, they watched as the man continued to scream his innocence and pleaded with the mob to check with Captain Clodomiro.

At long last they were able to hold him so that the woman could cut out his tongue. She threw the man's tongue into the air, and the family watched in revulsion as the bloody meat landed on the ground next to the wagon. The woman declaimed, This is what we will do to each informant for the Dictator. Let's find some more!

The small girl ran towards where the tongue had landed. She put down the pickle jar and opened it. With her hand, she picked up the discarded tongue and plopped it into the jar, where other amputated tongues floated. She screwed the cap back on and then spat into her hands. She rubbed her hands together in an attempt to clean them off, and then rubbed them on her ragged dress. The woman led the mob off into the faint light of the dawn. They streamed past and away from the wagon and its sickened occupants.

The husband and wife looked at each other, terrified. The mother looked at her son and saw tears streaming down his cheeks. She put her arm around his shoulders tenderly and said, That's OK, Tite. That is the evil some men have. I'm sorry you had to see this, my son. She pulled him in, and he lay his head against her breast.

The red-headed woman called to the little girl, Maggie! Let's go!

The little girl looked up at them, and her eyes looked into those of Tite's. She smiled strangely, the oddness coming from the level of cynicism displayed in one so young.

Tite's mother held him protectively and looked at his father. She rubbed her arms as goose bumps made her flesh crawl.

The young girl turned and scampered off to join her mother and the mob. Tite's eyes followed the bobbing of the tongues inside the jar as she left.

His father crossed himself, and said, May God forgive these people for the evil they do.

He got out of the wagon and knelt down to try to help the profusely bleeding man, an old family friend. He pulled out a handkerchief and put it in the man's mouth. We have to stop your bleeding. Put the pressure of this against your stump and bite down.

He then untied the poor man's hands and legs. Don't worry, Ruben. Compassionately, he put his arm around Ruben's shoulder and helped him to stand up. We'll get you to the hospital. You'll be OK.

Chapter 1

THE DISCOVERED TREASURE

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Julio Antonio del Marmol in his Young Commandos uniform

A year later, I was dressed in my Juvenile Commandos uniform in my house on Avenue Cabada, 116. I had dressed hurriedly, because I was supposed to be at the local military regiment for an important meeting with the chief of the province, Commander Dermidio Escalona. It was important, because Commander Ernesto Che Guevara wanted to inform us of the new orders of the Maximum Leader, Fidel Castro.

This meeting had been called because several groups within the army were in mutiny. Some of the officers had even taken their troops into the jungles to fight against the emerging Socialist regime. These were the last measures the government had developed as a result of Captain Clodomiro Miranda's rebellion.

After this event, Fidel Castro had started to doubt his Rebel Army. Even though the Revolution was a triumph, he knew most of them were peasants, students, and intellectuals who had abandoned their normal lives. For these people, the Marxist ideology they were indoctrinating the army with was a very hard pill to swallow. Some of them didn't even know what Marxist-Leninist meant.

But some of the more educated officers did, and they didn't like it one bit. They had fought to re-establish a free democracy, not to set up a communist dictatorship that would be even worse than the corrupt dictatorship of Batista. Consequently, similar rebellions had erupted around the island, especially in the central mountains of the Escambray in Santa Clara.

The whole Revolution had by now been divided into two groups. In the one group, Fidel Castro, his brother Raúl, Che, and the other big commanders wanted to remain in power perpetually. Che and the Castros were aligned in creating a communist future for the island.

The other group felt betrayed by these ideas and had rebelled, and so they had been persecuted and forced back into the mountains.

The situation was extremely tense inside the armed forces, and this tension spilled out into the general public, poisoning the overall atmosphere of the island. In reaction, the Castros and Che implemented even more extreme measures, seeking to root out any opposition and brutally put it down. Even the simple expression of displeasure or doubt could lead to the firing squad, so intense was the witch hunt they had embarked upon in seeking out any anti-communist sentiments.

For this reason, the men with Captain Miranda were either executed or given sentences of ten to thirty years in prison. Even one of the major Commanders, Huber Matos, received a twenty-year sentence simply for sending a letter to Fidel asking when free elections would be held. No one was exempt or excused.

By this time, I had been trained by my uncle and the man we had codenamed the General. I had been taking my first steps into the spy business and slowly discovered that this was a very dangerous game. What I lacked in experience I made up for in very good, solid training, and my position as the Commander-in-Chief of the Juvenile Commandos was the perfect one in which to learn as I went.

I was primarily guided at this point by my own instincts because of my limited experience. My instincts told me that Che would be back, even though he had recently left the province. I knew that something important must be going on, so I didn't want to be late to this meeting. As soon as I was dressed, I rushed through breakfast and walked to the front door.

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The front of Julio Antonio's house

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Julio Antonio's sisters Disa and Elda with a friend on their front porch

After I said goodbye to my Mima and my nanny Majito, I passed by a man of about forty-five coming into the house with a teenaged boy who had Down syndrome. They both brought poles with empty five-gallon cans hanging from either end. Both greeted me in a friendly manner: Good morning, Julio Antonio.

I nodded affably. Good morning, Don Pascual. Good morning, Tobito.

Your driver, that big black guy, has been waiting outside for you for a while, Don Pascual said.

I replied with a smile, Really good. Daniel is early today. Thank you, Pascual.

"Have a great day. Valla con Dios, mi niño.¹" He waved goodbye to me.

Don Pascual was a tall man, stooped over at the shoulder. He had a large, Greek nose, a ruddy complexion, and straight salt-and-pepper hair. We called his type isleño relloyo, or island Creole, because he was pure Spanish in ancestry but born on the island.

Like other isleño relloyo, he spoke with an exaggerated Castilian lisp, and he used the z even when it wasn't really applicable. As a result, this group of people were the subject of numerous jokes by the majority of people in Cuba. They were unfairly stereotyped as slow and inbred, but otherwise generally likeable.

Tobito was very tall, about six feet three inches, with curly red hair, freckles all over, a complexion like his father, and an overbite.

In that time, the trash sometimes accumulated for a month before someone came by to pick it up. Public service was very deficient, with many public employees at the beginning of the Revolution accused of being collaborators with the previous regime. They were constantly understaffed, and in consequence the trash became a problem.

Cuban ingenuity created a solution for this. Many people raised farms in the surrounding countryside. They offered to pick up the trash in exchange for any food leftovers from the city dwellers' meals for their pigs. The leftovers that they used to feed the pigs were called sarcocho. They bring five-gallon cans into the house, collect the sarcocho from a family, and empty the cans into fifty-five gallon tanks on their wagons.

When I left the house, I smiled because Daniel had parked the jeep a little distance from the wagon and was holding a handkerchief over his nose and mouth due to the stench from the tanks. Despite the tarp cover, the flies swarmed around the wagon and disturbed the horse's rump.

After I greeted Daniel, I jumped into the jeep.

Daniel asked me, How is it possible that Don Pascual and his son could tolerate that stink all day long?

I smiled. Daniel, everything in life is just a question of getting used to something. Good or bad, we get used to everything in life. If you asked Don Pascual the same question, he would probably ask you, 'What stink?' because they've been doing this for so long that they don't smell it anymore.

The good black man shook his head in bewilderment and made a sick face. He crossed himself and said, Thank God I don't have to do that kind of work. I hear the Devil has a sulfur-smelling ass. But this goddamn smell from Don Pascual's wagon is a thousand times worse probably than the Devil's butt.

That's got rhythm, I said. We both smiled and drove to the military compound.

A few months before, I had been taking pictures in San Cristobol of the first boxes of missiles that had arrived from the Soviet Union when I visited this facility with my brother-in-law, Canen. Of course, he had no idea what I was doing, but he had been assigned the command of overseeing all the new installations. I was very anxious to know what Che was bringing to us in this meeting---no doubt information that could be of great help to my uncle and our associates in global intelligence.

When we arrived at the compound, I realized that Che had not arrived by himself: he had also brought along a couple of other big names in the communist government. One was Ramiro Valdez, the Minister of the Interior and the DTI, the internal police of the island. The other one was Commander Piñeiro, the head of the G-2, or Red Beard, as we called him.

We spent all day going from meeting to meeting, first with the officer in charge of the troops, then with the other junior officers involved in the military training programs. Che explained to us that we had to observe closely every single officer and NCO in our army, because they were the only ones capable of converting entire platoons into counterrevolutionaries.

After interviewing them, he would nominate some to be political orientators,