The sky thundered minutes before six in the morning. The ships that crossed the sky, although they showed the insignia of the Cuban air force, did not have the same objective of those that on land received a baptism of fire and death. Its mission was, besides destroying the already old Cuban aviation, to spread panic.

It was just the prelude. Known is what happened next. Youth truncated, lives turned off that day. The boldness of Eduardo García Delgado to write in his last breath of life, as if to leave it engraved forever in history, a name, the symbolic name for all Cubans: Fidel.

We also know of the leader's words the next day, saying goodbye to the fallen. His firmness in announcing the socialist character of the social project that was built for the well-being of all, while, despite the pain, he foresaw the need to be alert.

Nor can we forget the wise vision of the leader. Two days after the attack, a militiaman saw movements close to our shores. They came, as the poet would say, to wound the great chest of Giron, as only cowards wound.

Coming from Honduras, a horde of spiteful Cubans, assassins who had left the country after 1959, tried to strike a blow that would lead to the death of that little person who was just over two years old, who was taking his first steps and the Cubans here They called it Revolution.

Many died, it's true. Neither children, nor women, nor any civilian, like the little girl in white shoes who saw her mother and her brothers bleed, stopped the cruelty of those men who only knew the reason given for the money.

But the invaders did not count on the resistance and unity of a people, and the correct conduct of the man in whom they had placed their trust. A people dressed as a militiaman and determined to fight for their dreams presented the Empire with a setback with the forcefulness that until now had not known on the continent that promulgated would be for him.

The earth was paid for by the blood of other young people, willing and courageous, some almost children. The "fierce" attackers, defeated, prisoners, were exchanged for food and medicine. By compote as Cubans popularly say.

Now, returning to the poet, April opens its flowers, with blue mantle and green crown, from the serenity of a country built on the foundations of memory and that forges the present every day to guarantee the future.