“And he applied, and went before another board of officers, which also included one general officer, which not only decided that he possessed the requirements to be a warrant officer, junior grade, but that if he were an American citizen, he would be eligible for direct appointment as a captain, and that when and if he became an American citizen, which is possible, under another special provision of the law, for a foreign national who has served faithfully for eighteen months as an enlisted man or warrant officer, in the U.S. Army, that he be so commissioned.”
He paused and looked at de la Santiago.
“You’re following all this, Señor de la Santiago?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And questions, Señor de la Santiago?”
“At the risk of sounding flippant, sir, how soon could I expect to go before the board of officers you mentioned?”
“You’re in front of it now, Mr. de la Santiago,” Hanrahan said. “And let the record show that the president of the board has been advised by Mr. Sanford T. Felter, Counselor to the President, Executive Office Building, Washington, D.C., that he is personally familiar with Mr. de la Santiago’s counterintelligence dossier and states that he is not an intelligence officer of Cuba or any other foreign power.”
Captain Zabrewski, who had been leaning against the wall, came to attention.
“Yes, sir,” he said.
“For your information, Mr. de la Santiago,” Hanrahan said, “it is the custom of the U.S. Army, when polling a board such as this one, that the junior member thereof be polled first, so his opinions will in no way be influenced by the opinions of his superiors. ”
Hanrahan paused.
“Mr. Zammoro, is there any question in your mind that Mr. de la Santiago, should he be allowed to enlist as a private in the U.S. Army, would be of special value to Special Forces?”
Zammoro popped to attention.
“No, sir.”
“Or, should he be enlisted as a private soldier, that his application for appointment as warrant officer, junior grade, be approved? ”
“No, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Zammoro. I believe you are next senior, Lieutenant Portet?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack said. “I agree with Mr. Zammoro, sir.”
“Captain Zabrewski?”
“I agree with Mr. Zammoro and Lieutenant Portet, sir.”
Hanrahan turned and rapped his knuckles on his desk.
“The board approves. Let the record show the decision was unanimous.”
“Yes, sir,” Captain Zabrewski said.
“If you’ll take one step forward, Mr. de la Santiago, I will now enlist you into the United States Army,” General Hanrahan said.
[ FOUR ]
SECRET
Central Intelligence Agency Langley, Virginia
FROM: Assistant Director For Administration
FROM: 2 January 1965 1805 GMT
SUBJECT : Guevara, Ernesto (Memorandum #11.)
TO: Mr. Sanford T. Felter
Counselor To The President
Room 637, The Executive Office Building
Washington, D.C.
By Courier
In compliance with Presidential Memorandum to The Director, Subject: “Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara”, dated 14 December 1964, the following information is furnished:
1. (Reliability Scale Three) (From CIA Sources in Bamako, Mali). SUBJECT spent New Year’s Eve in the Cuban Embassy in Bamako. No other information is available.
Howard W. O’Connor
HOWARD W. O’CONNOR
SECRET
[ FIVE ]
Ezeiza International Airport
Buenos Aires, Argentina
1130 3 January 1965
When the Aerolineas Argentina Flight 9790, a Boeing 707, landed, completing its nonstop flight from Miami, it taxied close to the terminal and shut down. Two stairways mounted on Chevrolet trucks drove up to the aircraft as the doors were opened. A black Ford Falcon drove up, and a tall, rather sturdy-looking man in a well-cut suit got out. As soon as the forward stairway was in place, he went up it and entered the airplane. Sixty seconds later, he came down the stairway and got back in the Falcon, which immediately drove to the terminal building.
A train of baggage carts rolled up to the aircraft, as did two passenger buses. The passengers began to deplane as the luggage was unloaded.
The first-class passengers were disembarked first, the idea being this would give them first shot at the limited seats available on the buses for the five-hundred-meter trip to the terminal. The fifth and sixth first-class passengers to come down the stairway were a tall white man and a stocky black man, both wearing tweed sport coats, open-necked polo shirts, gray flannel slacks, and loafers.
As they had gotten on the bus first, they had to wait, at the terminal, for the standees to get off first; they were the last two passengers to get off their bus.
As they entered the terminal, the sturdy-looking man who had been aboard the 707 stepped in front of the tall white man and smiled.
“Colonel Lowell?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“A sus órdenes, mi coronel,” the man said. “General