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The Refugees. Castro is still capable of considerable maneuver—as well as enormous mischief. In his speech he said that it was the U.S., not he, who shut off the flow of refugees. "We never closed the ports," he thundered. "The imperialists closed all the routes, and for three years they have been making propaganda, fraudulent and dirty. Very well. We must put an end to this at once."
Castro promised to arrange a special embarkation port at Camarioca, on the north coast of Matanzas province, where boats from the U.S. could pick up refugees. On each trip, the rescue boats could have 48 hours in port "with all guarantees." In fact, said Castro, he might supply a few boats himself to help speed matters, later in the week added that he would even schedule two "free" airplane flights a day into the U.S. Warming up, he then went on to say that the offer was being expanded still further—any Cuban at all who wanted to leave could simply line up and take off.
In Washington, the wary reaction was that Castro might be playing another of his vicious little games—possibly putting out another ransom feeler, as he did with the Bay of Pigs prisoners, or possibly laying a trap to lure anti-Castro Cubans into exposing themselves. The U.S. called the offer "vague and ambiguous," said that Castro ought to use diplomatic channels for his offer, then later announced that it would accept any and all refugees if Castro was really serious about it. President Johnson even indicated that he would ask Congress for a $12.6 million appropriation to help get the program underway.
Only time would tell whether Castro was serious. Yet one thing is obviously clear. The steady stream of fleeing Cubans does nothing to polish the Communist image—either Castro's or that of his Soviet mentors. Since Jan. 1, 1959, more than 335,000 Cubans have gone into exile—one out of every 21 people on the island. The first to go was the upper class—the landowners and big businessmen. Then went the middle class Castro needed to run his government. Now it is the working class—the humble fisherfolk, farm people, laborers, the very Cubans Castro swore to "save" from all sorts of devils, including the U.S.
They flee across the 90-mile Straits of Florida in any kind of weather, in anything that floats—from stolen fishing boats to rafts made of inner tubes and scrap lumber, running the treacherous gauntlet of Castro patrol boats and helicopters. In the past four years, 8,300 have made the perilous journey by water. A British freighter captain who puts into Havana estimates that for every refugee who evades Castro's patrols, three die. He calls the 40-mile stretch extending from the northern coast "Machine Gun Alley," and says: "Time and again, we come across small boats drifting helplessly. And when we look inside, we find bodies riddled with bullets—men, women and children."