Operation Massacre by Rodolfo Walsh, translation by Daniella Gitlin, foreword by Michael Greenberg, afterwood by Ricardo Piglia Page A

Carlitos Lizaso remember that message he left for his girlfriend? “If all goes well tonight . . .”
    Garibotti is sorry he listened to his friend Carranza, who is sitting next to him, quiet and dejected. Who knows now when they are going to let them go, maybe at daybreak or at noon the next day  . . . C arranza himself is remembering Berta’s words: “Turn yourself in, turn yourself in . . .” Well, now he has been turned in. They might let the other guys go, but him . . . As soon as they look at his record, he’ll be done for. Maybe he’s thinking of that day he ran away from the officers in Tucumán. No one is watching the door and, even though the corridor is long, there is no one in sight. Maybe with a little bit of luck . . . But no, Berta’s right. It’s time for him to turn himself in and for them to do whatever they want with him. They’re not going to kill him, that’s for sure, not for some pamphlets and some conversations . . .
    Gavino’s worried. They’re not going to let him go, either, now that they’ve got him. And he knows very well why they’ve got him. He’ll get a year or two in jail until a new government comes to power and he is granted amnesty. Perhaps they’ll send him to the south. Well, maybe it’s better this way . . . maybe now they’ll let his wife go . . . and not kill him on a night like this. He wonders if the rebellion . . .
    Just then an officer appears and, addressing the two or three closest to him, asks:
    â€”Fellas, are you political prisoners?
    When he is met with hesitation in response, he adds:
    â€”Cheer up. The rebellion broke out and we don’t have contact with La Plata anymore.
    La Plata is the only place where the fighting is going according to plan. The leader of the uprising, Colonel Cogorno, launches an attack on the Second Division Command and the Police Headquarters throughout the night. The attacking forces include the Seventh Regiment’s company, three tanks under Major Pratt’s command, and two or three hundred civilians.
    The tanks position themselves to face Police Headquarters, but for some inexplicable reason only manage to blast the building two times. There are twenty-three men inside: afterward there will be thirty-five.
    The shootout—which involves everything from small arms to heavy machine guns—is extremely violent, but the attackers can’t manage to organize a proper assault. Maybe they’re waiting for something that never actually happens. What we know for sure is that Colonel Piñeiro, fighting on the inside, makes it through the whole night.
    The Second Division Command, two blocks away from Headquarters, is comparatively much more protected: it has about fifty men and a heavy machine gun set up in a dominant strategic position—on Fifty-Fourth Street, between Third and Fourth—so that they can stave off the advancing troops of the Seventh Regiment.
    Among the men who are defending the Government with weapons in hand, we will mention one who did not make the papers.
    His name is Juan Carlos Longoni. He is (was) a police inspector, a thin, stone-faced guy with a tough look in his eyes, a man of few words. He is laid off during the time of Peronism, but they take him back in 1955 . He comes to be assistant to the head of the Judicial Division, Doglia, Esq. . . .
    That night Longoni is asleep at home when he hears the first shots. He gets up and, still dressing himself, steps out to the street. He hails a cab and asks to be taken to the war zone. In the thick of the shooting, the cab driver is so frightened that he faints. Longoni leaves him in Medical Care, goes on alone, and manages to join the Commando Unit. He asks for a gun and a combat position. They hand him a Falcon and let him choose whatever position he wants. He fights all night