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

long.
    That is the man that the Chief of Police of the Province will lay off—laid off again!—seven months later for supporting Doglia in his complaints regarding this case—the case of the prisoners who were still awaiting their uncertain fates in the San Martín District Police Department.

 
    18. “Calm and Confident”
    1 : 45 a.m. The radio is also on in the office of Chief Inspector Rodolfo Rodríguez Moreno, chief of the San Martín District Police Department. The declaration of martial law has been replayed at 12 : 45 a.m., 12 : 50 a.m., 1 : 15 a.m., 1 : 35 a.m. Now they are broadcasting it again.
    About fifteen minutes ago, the Office of the Vice President of the Nation released the Communiqué No. 1 , which, for the first time, lets the country know some details about what is happening.
    On behalf of the provisional president —the text reads— let it be known to the people of the Republic that at 11 : 00 p.m. on Saturday, uprisings erupted among some military units in the Province of Buenos Aires.
    The Army, the Navy, and the Airforce, with support from the National Gendarmerie, the Coast Guard, and the Police immediately commenced operations to subdue the attempt at rebellion.
    The rule of martial law has been decreed in the entire territory of the Republic.
    We suggest that the people remain calm and confident in the power and strength of the Liberating Revolution.
    Signed: Isaac F. Rojas, Rear-Admiral, Provisional Vice President.
    One of the prisoners has asked permission to go to the bathroom; on the way, the guard escorting him lets him in on what’s happening.
    There is anxiety among the group when this man comes back with news that definitively confirms all the signs, suspicions, and fears that have been accumulating since eleven o’clock the previous night, when they heard the word “revolution” uttered for the first time from the mouth of the Police Chief himself. Gavino looks pale.
    â€”When? —he insists.— When?
    â€”Just now, it sounds like —they reply.
    Gavino lets out a sigh of relief. He knows they can’t do anything to him. He was arrested before martial law was instated so he couldn’t have violated it.
    Mario Brión has a terrible feeling.
    â€”Who knows, they could kill us anyway . . .
    Everyone looks at him askance. There is a pause. Then several of them talk at once:
    â€”I went to have dinner at some friends’ house, and on my way back . . . on my way back . . .
    â€”Is saying goodnight to your girlfriend against the law? I didn’t do anything, I don’t know anything, they have to let me go . . .
    In the impenetrable Italian of the old night watchman, a word stands out now, punctuating his speech at regular intervals, “ revoluzione . . . revoluzione . . . ”
    Suddenly two policemen armed with carbines tell everyone to be silent. A change has come over the entire enormous building—it is hardly noticeable, but sinister. The guards’ attitude, which until now has been carefree, has turned sour and surly. Voices that were ringing out in the corridor on and off dissolve into occasional echoes. Then, prolonged silences.
    Unaware of everything, spilled over a bench, like some great black Neptune, Sergeant Díaz is snoring loudly. His wide thorax expands and collapses at an easy rhythm. Sleep coats his face with an expressionless mask.
    The rest begin to look at him with annoyance, then horror.

 
    19. Make No Mistake . . .
    2 : 45 a.m. Rodríguez Moreno’s got a bad feeling. Why did these poor bastards have to come to him, of all people? And yet, there is some mysterious justification, some nod to destiny in the fact that this particular mission is going to fall to him.
    Rodríguez Moreno is an imposing, difficult man with a rocky and troublesome history. Tragedy follows him like a doting dog. Even