It is an axiom that great crises breed great leaders-bold men who suddenly come forward to meet and defeat an invading army or to save the people from their own devices. And if ever a country needed a Messiah-or a man on horseback-it was the Island of Cuba in September, 1933, when the Republic seemed about to collapse for the want of a strong leader. Torn by civil war, by murderous public disorder, floundering in a sea of political and economic chaos, Cuba was living her darkest hours in the late summer of that year immediately following the downfall of Machado. The situation was so desperate that the United States government, friend and counselor of this infant among American republics, became as panicked as the Cubans in the search for a courageous leader, a man of stature who would put an end to the street killings, the wholesale bombings, the vengeful destruction of human life, of private and public property. The total lack of respect for the laws of the land and the crazy confusion of a nation suddenly gone berserk demanded quick and positive action if the country was to retain its place among the civilized nations of the world.

When Machado, a cruel, vicious tyrant, was finally deposed with the help of the United States Department of State on August 12, 1933, Cuba erupted in violence from one end of the island to the other. Wild-eyed university students, friends of men and boys martyred by the guns of Machado, triggermen, as well as ordinary ruffians, were out to kill, to avenge the outrageous brutalities of the Machado regime. Associates of Machado, from cabinet ministers to office boys, who were not fortunate enough to escape from the island after the Machado downfall were hunted down by bands of men who disregarded the laws and punished their enemies without even the formality of a drumhead court-martial. Former members of the Machado Secret Police and other hated men of the Machadato were tom to pieces, the remnants of their bodies dragged through the streets by mobs of howling fanatics. In this wild carnival of blood, the killers paraded in the streets, waving white handkerchiefs soaked in the blood of their enemies. And there was no one to stop the slaughter. At least there was no evidence that the weak-kneed, stopgap Céspedes government, which followed Machado, could do anything to restore order. No nation ever lived through greater turmoil and confusion and no nation ever faced a greater internal crisis.

The United States government, which, through Sumner Welles, its Ambassador to Cuba, had contributed to the resignation of Machado and his replacement by Carlos Manuel de Céspedes, had not foreseen the violent reaction which was to follow the changes. In a hurried, tongue-in-cheek effort to establish a constitutional government to succeed Machado, the United States had helped push Céspedes into the Presidency the day after Machado was kicked out.

American-born son of an illustrious father, Céspedes was a kindly, highly respected old gentleman who lacked completely the stamina or strength of character to govern Cuba in such a difficult period. It is not hard to understand why Welles supported the move to install Céspedes in the Presidency. For months Welles had been "mediating" Cuban political affairs, trying to help Cubans replace the Machado government with a more satisfactory one. Céspedes may not have been the precise choice of Welles. He may have been pushed into the Presidency by a number of the factions involved in the political turmoil following the removal of Machado. But Welles certainly wanted Céspedes to stay once be was chosen. In fact, Welles tried every trick of international diplomacy to establish C6spedes on a firm basis. On the very day Céspedes took the Presidency, Welles advised Washington that he would recommend a loan from the United States government to allow Céspedes to pay overdue salaries to government employees. He wanted American bankers to suspend collections on Cuba's foreign debts, and be asked and procured quick diplomatic recognition for the Céspedes government.

Some may wonder why the United States ever allowed itself to become so involved in the internal affairs of a small republic like Cuba. But it should be remembered that the relations between Cuba and the United States are unique in world affairs. Even if the United States wanted to rid herself of responsibility in the affairs of Cuba, she could not do it. The link between the United States and Cuba is not one only of geography. Nor is it simply that United States interests have millions of dollars invested in Cuba. The United States and Cuba are linked by greater and stronger ties. By a comradeship born of war, for example. Cubans and Americans fought together in Cuba's war for independence. Not only did the United States fight for Cuba, but she also helped Cuba during the critical days following the close of the war when Cuba was struggling with the early problems of a new, free, sovereign state. Cuba, in a way, is a close relative of the United States, and the United States could not in 1933, and cannot today, allow Cuba to falter in her progress as a free democratic nation.

The United States government-and a great many political leaders of Cuba-had placed its hopes for political peace on the replacement of Machado by Céspedes. This formula, they believed, would restore confidence in government, establish peace, and, in fact, save Cuba. But the ousting of Machado and the setting up of the Céspedes regime did none of those things. On the contrary, it encouraged, through its own lack of strength, more disorders, more killings, more vengeance; and the streets of Havana, of Santiago de Cuba, and of the other cities of the island were washed again in the blood of Cubans. During the twenty-two days Céspedes was in the Presidential Palace nothing was done to disperse the wild mobs in the streets, nothing was done to get Cuba back to peace and tranquility. Céspedes showed absolutely no capacity for strong leadership, which was the urgent need of the hour. Furthermore, he was regarded by most Cubans as a puppet of the United States.

Welles, who worked hard to help Cuba put her house in order, had great hopes that the change from Machado to Céspedes would bring success to his months of negotiations. Even when the disorders became more violent, when the confusion became greater and greater during the early days of the Céspedes regime, Welles' reports to Washington were those of a man clinging desperately to a hope in spite of the cold realities of the situation. Examples of Welles' apparent reluctance to admit defeat are on record in Washington. On August 13, the day after the first violent reaction to the Machado downfall, Welles told Washington that "the situation in the cities is in general much more satisfactory." He then reported that martial law had been declared throughout the republic and that "the crowds are still hunting down the hated members of Machado's Secret Police." The discrepancy between the two statements was, no doubt, the result of Welles' refusal to accept defeat, to resign himself to the failure of his efforts. On the same day, August 13, Welles told his Washington superiors that "the Army appears completely loyal to the new government" (the Céspedes government), but two days later be had to report that discipline had broken down within the Army. On August 15, Welles talked to Céspedes in the hope that he could persuade the President to govern with a firm hand. He tried to convince the President of the need for "immediate energetic action," But all his efforts were wasted. The Céspedes regime was a weak government and the situation called for a strong government.

Finally, Welles came to realize that his formula would not work, that his efforts had failed to stabilize the political situation. On August 19, when the Céspedes government was just a week old, Welles asked to be relieved of his Havana post. He told his chiefs that his personal position was becoming more and more difficult. That report embodied all the disappointment of a man who had tried hard and failed. It outlined, in a few words, the situation in Cuba in the late summer of 1933-the complete confusion due to lack of Cuban leadership. "I am now daily being requested for decisions on all matters affecting the government of Cuba," Welles told Washington. "The decisions," he went on, "range from questions of domestic policy and matters affecting the discipline of the Army to questions involving appointments in all branches of the government."

These were the problems confronting the people of Cuba. Morale within the Army had broken down and a timid, stopgap government was afraid to make even minor decisions. Disorder prevailed throughout the island. United States warships were anchored in Havana Bay, a threat to Cuba's experiment in self-government. Even routine appointments to government posts were being referred to the representative of a foreign power, the United States Ambassador.

The people of Cuba were in trouble-serious trouble-in the late summer of 1933, and they, with the help of the United States government, had, inadvertently perhaps, set the stage for one of the most dramatic events in the history of any country-the Revolt of the Sergeants, the upsurge of the little man, the collapse of the ruling class, which was an inheritance from Spain. Whether they will ever realize it or not, the so-called ruling class of Cuba, the upper bracket, men who had been trained, supposedly, to lead their young country to great heights failed Cuba at the time she needed their leadership more than she had ever needed it before, and more than she has ever needed it since.

Where were the leaders of the great secret revolutionary societies who bad worked so bard, suffered so much, to bring about the downfall of President Machado? It was from the ranks of these gallant young fighters that Cuba would naturally look for leadership. But not a single one of them stepped forward. It seemed as though all the inspiration of the revolution had disappeared with the overthrow of Machado, as though the revolutionary leaders had spent themselves, intellectually and physically, in the fight to overthrow the tyrant. Perhaps it was a natural letdown after so many years of struggling against the despised dictatorship. Whatever the cause, these heroes of the long campaign against Machado were not on hand to assume the leadership in the days of reconstruction.

If, in her hour of great crisis, Cuba could not find a. leader among her revolutionary chiefs, the group of intellectuals who had directed the successful movement against the Machadato, certainly some outstanding military man would step forward to save the nation. But if the civilian leaders bad failed to respond, the lack of interest displayed by the high-ranking officers of the Army was even more shameful. Here was a body of men, presumably trained and disciplined, many of them educated in military academies in the United States, men sworn to maintain order or even to sacrifice their lives if necessary to save Cuba, and not a single officer came forward. Nor did the officers act to bring an end to the street killings, the looting, the bombings, which followed the downfall of Machado. They did nothing to restore the public order they were sworn to maintain. A great deal of the blame for the bad conditions existing in Cuba just after the downfall of Machado must be placed on the shoulders of the officer personnel of the Cuban Army. Any impartial historian will have to record the fact that the officers of the Army actually contributed substantially to the chaotic situation in Cuba in 1933, through their failure even to attempt to restore public order.

The reason for this failure appeared to be something much more fundamental than simple timidity. The Cuban Army, prior to the downfall of Machado, was something less than the well-disciplined, efficiently officered organization it was supposed to be. In fact, its reputation with the civilian population was not very good and a large section of its officers did not enjoy even the respect of the enlisted personnel. For years it had been the practice among certain army officers to get their extra spending money through the padding of payrolls. The system was a simple one which required neither skill nor a knowledge of higher mathematics. Here is how it worked. If the authorized strength of a company was one hundred and fifty enlisted men, the company commander drew pay for that many men, while making sure that his actual personnel never exceeded one-half or one-third that authorized strength. The payroll difference between the authorized strength and the actual strength went into the pocket of the company commander. Perhaps these extra funds were sorely needed because this same group of military playboys spent most of their time carousing or staging fiestas for their mistresses. It costs money to carouse and keep mistresses-even in Cuba. There were even examples of a sort of military serfdom in the Cuban Army. A number of officers who enjoyed the luxury of fincas de recreo assigned enlisted men to these small week-end farms to act as laborers and servants, on army pay.

The situation in Cuba at this point called for bold, inspired leadership. It required a heroic figure, capable of leading the country out of the turmoil and strife, willing to take chances. Cuba bad called upon the two groups most likely to provide the heroic leadership she needed and her call was not heeded. Where, then, was Cuba to turn. Was she to appeal to the United States for leadership? Was she to admit to the world that she was incapable of self-government? Cuba faced her greatest crisis in the early days of September of 1933-murderous rioting in the streets, confusion in the Palace, the Republic about to collapse.

This, then, was the backdrop against which Fulgencio Batista enacted that dramatic episode-the Revolt of the Sergeants-at Camp Columbia on September 4, 1933.