Young Che《切·格瓦拉传记》切·格瓦拉，是阿根廷的马克思主义革命家、医师、作家、游击队队长、军事理论家、国际政治家及古巴革命的核心人物。《时代》杂志将格瓦拉选入二十世纪百大影响力人物！ pdf pdb 阿里云 极速 mobi caj kindle 下载

“I had prepared a life plan that included ten years of

wandering, later years studying medicine. . . . All that's in the

past, the only thing that's clear is that the ten years of

wandering might grow longer . . . but it will now be of an entirely

different type from the one I dreamed of, and when I arrive in a

new country it will not be to go to museums and look at ruins,

because that still interests me, but also to join the struggle of

the people.”

– Che Guevara, in a letter to his mother, 1956

Assembled from two separate books written by Che's father, this is

a vivid and intimate account of the formative years of an icon.

Ernesto Guevara Lynch describes the people and personal events that

shaped the development of his son's revolutionary worldview, from

his childhood in a bourgeois Argentinian home to the moment he

joined Castro to train for the invasion of Cuba in 1956. It also

includes, available for the first time in the United States, Che's

diary of his trip around Northern Argentina in 1950. Young

Che is an indispensible guide to understanding one of the

twentieth century's most famous and enduring revolutionary

figures.

Acknowledgements

Introduction by Lucia/idvarez de Toledo

Preface by Ernesto Guevara Lynch

Map

List of Illustrations

1. Che in Cuba, I956-9

2. Ernesto's ancestry and early years, I85OS-I933

3. Growing up, 1933-52

4. Argentine travel diaries, 1950

5. Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador, 1953

6. Guatemala, 1953-4

7. Mexico, 1954-6

8. Mexico en route to Cuba, 1956

Epilogue: Tita Infante remembers Che a year after his death

Biographical notes

Chronology

Ernesto Guevara Lynch, the father of Che

Guevara, was born in Argentina in 1900 of Irish and Basque

origin.

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Part One: Che in Cuba, 1956–9

It was early December of 1956 and the world’s major

newspapers were publishing accounts of Fidel Castro’s* failed

attempt to invade the island of Cuba. The ex-Sergeant Batista*,

then self-elevated to the rank of Major General, spread the news,

by means of the international agencies, that Castro and his men had

been killed during an attempt to invade the island. This took place

on 2 December of that year.

Fidel Castro had launched the threat to invade Cuba over a year

earlier by saying: ‘We shall be free or we shall be martyrs.’

Our family in Buenos Aires was not aware of this threat, but began

to understand what was going on when we read in large headlines the

first news of it that the leading newspapers of the world were

publishing. They were devoting space to the disaster that had taken

place when Fidel and his men disembarked near the city of

Manzanillo, in the province of Oriente. It was a bombshell.

We knew that Ernesto was involved in a conspiracy and that he had

been taken into custody in Mexico with Fidel Castro and his

men.

The Guevara family discovers the real destiny of Ernesto

Guevara de la Serna

On 6 July 1956 I received a letter from Ernesto, in reply to one of

mine that I had sent to the jail of the Gobernación of Mexico City,

on Miguel Schultz Street, in which I told him that we had just

learned from the newspapers that he was in jail and asked him to

tell me what the situation was, plainly and without beating about

the bush.

His reply to my letter cleared any doubts that anyone might have

had about Ernesto and his position within Fidel Castro’s

army.

The news, particularly when it came from the United States, gave

details of the extermination of the whole contingent.

When the news reached Buenos Aires, our friends started telephoning

incessantly. They wanted to know what was happening. I was told

over the telephone the dreadful news that my son Ernesto had been

mortally wounded during one of the skirmishes. The reports said

that both Fidel Castro and his brother Raúl* had been killed, as

well as several of their comrades. I remember the names of Juan

Almeida* and Ramiro Valdés*. The news said that the motorboat

Granma, in which the eighty-two had sailed from a small port in

Mexico called Tuxpan, had been captured with all members of the

invasion force on board and that the majority of the crew had died.

The remaining few had been dispersed, according to the newspapers,

and would soon have to give themselves up.

The whole world believed the news because of the disparity between

the regular army of General Batista – formed by selected troops of

the rural guard, the marines and the armed police force – and the

tiny guerrilla group of just eighty-two men under Fidel Castro. It

was impossible to believe that the latter might topple the military

government of Batista, far less defeat its army and air force,

trained by the United States of America and equipped with the most

modern weapons.

When we received the news we were depressed. I went to the offices

of the newspaper La Prensa of Buenos Aires asking for confirmation.

They said, as consolation, that they were unable to tell me if it

was true until official confirmation came and, as such confirmation

had not arrived, there was still hope.

I went home in despair. My wife, Celia, was sitting at a table with

a pack of cards playing a game of patience. My children had learned

from other sources what the wires were announcing, which was by now

in any case in the public domain. When they saw me arrive, they did

not utter a single word. They did not say anything to their mother.

It was up to me to deliver the awful blow. I sat opposite her and

waited for what seemed to me a century until she had finished her

card game. She then lifted her head and, perhaps because she had a

premonition, asked, ‘What is it?’

‘Look,’ I replied, ‘there are some reports that I don’t think are

true.’

She was livid. ‘Ernesto?’ she asked.

‘Yes. But I can assure you that I do not believe it.’

She jumped to her feet, went to the telephone and called the news

agency Associated Press and, with a dry but firm voice, said, ‘I am

the mother of Dr Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, whose death you have

just announced and will be published in the newspapers. I want you

to tell me the truth. Is it true?’

She later told me that they had tried to console her, telling her

what I had already been told: that most of these reports ended up

not being confirmed.

We were used to putting up with all sorts of worries when it came

to Ernesto. I imagine the majority of our family and friends

believed the terrible news, and I imagine that the government of

Batista himself also believed it. But I was not totally

discouraged. There was something that told me it could not be true,

even if the evidence was to the contrary. I had an intuition –

something like a remote hope in this avalanche of unconfirmed news

– and that is why my words could be of some comfort to my

family.

At that time I was in contact with civil servants who worked for

the government of General Aramburu*. I went to the President’s

private secretary and asked to see the President to request him to

intervene with the Cuban government, so that in the hypothetical

event that Ernesto had been taken prisoner, he would not suffer the

fate that Batista was in the habit of meting out to his prisoners:

torture and assassination.

General Aramburu intervened and the Argentine Foreign Ministry

moved with speed. We were continually in touch with the ministry,

but neither denial nor confirmation was forthcoming. We were unable

to find out anything.

My home, normally so noisy and lively, had become a sombre place.

Nobody spoke, everyone foresaw the catastrophe, and around us there

was an air of desolation. As for me, I must confess that I found it

impossible to concentrate on anything that was not related to

Ernesto. I abandoned my job, I didn’t even turn up at the office. I

went from one place to another seeking information. The newspapers

dropped the story. But some newspapers and magazines arrived by air

from Cuba. I remember an issue of the magazine Bohemia that I

forced myself to read. It contained the same news that the first

agency wires had issued, but in great detail: Ernesto, who was

reclining against a tree talking to his mate Dr Pérez, had been

mortally wounded. It had happened at Alegría del Pío. Fidel

Castro’s men had been surprised by the army, and the rural guards

had fallen upon them before they had been able to see them, and the

guards had machine-gunned them from a few metres away. The air

force had rained napalm bombs on the woodlands and sugar-cane

fields. The army had surrounded the area, and it was assumed that

nobody could have escaped the ambush alive. For the government of

Batista, this was the beginning and the end of the much-heralded

invasion by Fidel Castro Ruz.

And then a letter from Ernesto, written in Mexico, arrived. For the

family this was simply dreadful. It was his farewell letter to his

parents. In it he made some philosophical observations. His message

was that for him death was not important; what was important was

the struggle for one’s ideals. He also said that he was leaving

Mexico to enter Cuba as a revolutionary. My wife read the letter in

front of everyone without a tear. I clenched my teeth and did not

understand why Ernesto had to get involved with a revolution that

had nothing to do with his homeland.

How wrong I was. My son Ernesto had to teach me – I who had guided

him through his first steps in life – the duty of men who fight for

humanity. It was not clear to me at the time; I could not separate

the heroic event in which one gives one’s life for an ideal from a

warlike adventure with no precise direction. I would compare

Batista with any of the military men who had at one time or another

been dictators in my country. I had fought against them, but what

eluded me at the time was something that Ernesto had already fully

understood: for the oppressed people of the world, the enemy was

one and the same, and that enemy was not in Argentina, or Cuba, or

Peru, or any other part of Latin America; the enemy was further

away – it was from where the capitalist elite originates, and from

where it sends its forces against those oppressed people via the

heads of governments who serve their interests.

Early one morning the phone rang. I was being summoned by the

Ministry of Foreign Affairs to meet the secretary of the Foreign

Minister. He saw me in his office; his demeanour was quiet. What

must I have looked like! I do not know, but I can imagine. He

looked at me with pity and said the following: ‘I have just

received a telegram from the Argentine Embassy in Havana, which

reads: “Dr Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, according to enquiries made

by this embassy, is not among the dead, nor among the wounded, nor

among the prisoners of Batista’s  army.”’

Had I been thrown into the air by an earthquake I would not have

left the premises with greater speed. I ran all the way home with

the news, and that same afternoon everything changed for us. An air

of optimism enveloped us all and my home was once again noisy and

filled with youthful exuberance.

Some days went by. We lived in a state of anxiety awaiting

confirmation or denial, but neither arrived through the official

channels. So we believed the news that had arrived at the Ministry

of Foreign Affairs from our embassy in Cuba.

1956 was coming to an end. On 31 December we were getting ready, as

usual, to celebrate the arrival of the new year, although this time

uncertainty hung over us. It was then that the unforeseen happened.

It must have been around ten o’clock that night when an envelope

was slid u...

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"A timely source of vivid insights into [the key influences]

that turned this young man into the world's most recogniseable

revolutionary.”

—The Latin American Review of Books

书籍介绍

“I had prepared a life plan that included ten years of wandering, later years studying medicine. . . . All that's in the past, the only thing that's clear is that the ten years of wandering might grow longer . . . but it will now be of an entirely different type from the one I dreamed of, and when I arrive in a new country it will not be to go to museums and look at ruins, because that still interests me, but also to join the struggle of the people.”

– Che Guevara, in a letter to his mother, 1956

Assembled from two separate books written by Che's father, this is a vivid and intimate account of the formative years of an icon. Ernesto Guevara Lynch describes the people and personal events that shaped the development of his son's revolutionary worldview, from his childhood in a bourgeois Argentinian home to the moment he joined Castro to train for the invasion of Cuba in 1956. It also includes, available for the first time in the United States, Che's diary of his trip around Northern Argentina in 1950. Young Che is an indispensible guide to understanding one of the twentieth century's most famous and enduring revolutionary figures.