One of Cuba's favorite dishes is ajiaco criollo, a peppery hash of vegetables, jerked beef and bananas. Alert Correspondent Tom Pettey of the New York Herald
Tribune spotted ajiaco criollo, amid the babble of political chatter that filled Havana, as the word most descriptive of the island's whole situation. Havana simmered with several hundred master statesmen, scarcely two alike after eight years of pulverizing tyranny. Into the simmering pot, in front of the Presidential Palace, peered Cuba's hungry but critical citizens. They looked in vain for a master cook. Only one ingredient in the pot suited every taste and that was proud resistance to U. S. intervention. The Sergeants. There were the Army's non-commissioned officers, on a spree. They had seen last month how neatly their superior officers led by Col. Horacio Ferrer had pushed over the Machado government. For three weeks they had whispered out of the corners of their mouths to the enlisted men that many of the officers were still loyal to Machado, that Provisional President de Cespedes planned to cut the Army's numbers and pay. Last week a little band of sergeants walked into the Camp Columbia barracks of the very officers who had overthrown Machado. Firmly and none too politely the sergeants told their superiors they were through. Word traveled fast how easy it was—to the other barracks, to the police, to the rural guard, to the Navy. This was the bloodless "revolt of the sergeants." They held the forts, ships, men, artillery. If it came to a showdown, they held the balance of power. Their leader was straightway made Chief of Staff and Revolutionary Leader of the Armed Forces. He was Top Sergeant Fulgencio Batista, who as a sharp-eyed court stenographer had listened for eight years to the Machado trials of revolutionary suspects. Surrounded by bully boys from the barracks, he was as tough as any. Despite his promise not to promote himself, he soon took the title of Colonel. Up with him went two others: lanky Sergeant Angel Gonzalez as Chief of Staff of the Navy and blocky Angel Hernandez as his assistant.
It was the little fellows' day. Leaning out the windows of the Presidential Palace and joking with the crowd, Batista & friends had the time of their lives. Batista shouted so much that he developed a sore throat. The crowd liked their show. But they peered again into Cuba's pot and saw something else: