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Abe Peña's  "From the Past" newspaper column

All material used with the kind permission of the author, given to me personally.

Published Thursday, January 8, 2009 5:18 PM MST

"Golpe de Estado - A Revolution in Honduras, 1972

Abe Peña is a local author and historian whose award winning books 'Memories of Cibola' and 'Villages and Villagers' are available at bookstores throughout New Mexico.

The telephone rang about three o'clock in the morning. Henry Reynolds was at the other end of the line, “Sorry to wake you up, Abe, but it looks like the military coup we've been expecting is on. I'm looking out the window and there's a couple of officers knocking at Monchito's door across the street.”

There's a pause in Henry's narration, then he continues, “Monchito has opened the door. He's in his pajamas and they have handed him some papers. They're telling him something. He's rubbing his eyes and nodding his head. He's closing the door. The officers are going back to their car. They are giving orders to soldiers in an accompanying truck. Six soldiers are posted as guards. The vehicles are driving away. Suggest you turn on the radio.”

President Ramon Ernesto Cruz, called “Monchito” by the people of Honduras, had chosen to live in his personal residence rather than move to the Presidential House when he was elected President in 1971. He preferred to live in his own house in Colonia San Carlos in the capital city of Tegucigalpa.

My good friend Henry Reynolds, an African American whom I succeeded as Peace Corps Director, was now on contract with USAID and lived across the street from the president and had a bird's eye view of the street.

Viola, my wife, could hear Henry's voice on the phone and sat up in bed. She got up and turned on the radio. Radio Honduras was playing martial music and asking to stand by for an important announcement. I threw some cold water on my face, then called the Marine Guards at the U.S. Embassy and reported the telephone call I had just received, and advised them to notify Ambassador Hewson Ryan immediately.

It was Dec. 4, 1972. My family and I had arrived in the Central American Republic of Honduras in July that year, and had lived with daily rumors of a Golpe de Estado, an overthrow of the government, by the armed forces. Popular General of the Army Osvaldo Lopez Arellano, who had served as president years before, was being pressed by the people to overthrow by force the elected but “inept” government of Monchito Cruz.

Earlier in the evening of Dec. 4, some of our Honduran friends had called to suggest we not let our children go out that evening because the “golpe” was expected that night. When we told the children of the call, they understood and stayed home. Our teenage children had developed a great respect and admiration for the Honduran people, a friendly people whom we identified with very easily.

Interrupting the martial music, the radio announced the first decree, Decreto Numero Uno, “To inform the people of the Republic of Honduras that the armed forces, led by General Osvaldo Lopez Arellano, had this day taken over the government to preserve and protect the integrity of our great country.”

More martial music continued for about ten minutes and the second decree was, “To inform that martial law was in effect and for everyone's safety to stay off the streets until daybreak.” Several minutes later, the third decree was “To inform all government employees to report to work as usual in the morning.”

Later that morning, I made the following entry in my journal. “The city has remained very quiet through the early hours of this revolution and the radio is reporting no violence or loss of life in the country. The American Embassy informed all embassy personnel to continue to carry out our duties in the usual manner. I sent word to more than 100 Peace Corps volunteers throughout the country to continue their work as usual but to stay close to their sites until further notice. It was a precaution in case of an uprising by the people against the military.”

By the second day after the coup, the armed guards at street corners in the capital and other cities were removed, and, by Dec. 22, when I made the following entries in my journal, things had pretty well returned to normal.

“The armed soldiers are gone. The civilian police, CES, Curerpo Especial de Seguridad, is back on the beat. Life, for all practical purposes, continues in a normal way.

“Sub-ministers are now being appointed, and the overtures of reform are beginning to be heard. The press has nothing but praise for “El Jefe de Estado” General Osvaldo Lopez Arellano. Possibly out of fear, or the hopeful note for positive change by a proven leader.

“We have purchased a Christmas tree. Paid the equivalent of $2.50 for the tree. Ornaments are expensive. Have not bought many. The thing we miss the most this Christmas is snow. Ramona, Paula, and Cecilia say the thing they miss the most is snow and vitamin D milk.

“Marco is in seventh heaven, joining the Honduran youth in their obsession with firecrackers. Viola has organized a choral group and they're busy rehearsing their holiday songs to go carolling on Christmas Eve. The thing I miss the most is American football. I have yet to learn the finer points of soccer (Honduran futbol).

“From the Peace Corps point of view, we have had no problems other than of conjecture. Will the new government continue the projects where volunteers are assigned? For example, Obras Publicas - Public Works, where four Peace Corps urban planners, counter-parted by four Hondurans, are working in a project in Puerto Cortez that is about 83 percent complete. Will it be scrapped? Arquitecto Arturo Suarez, my deputy who is Honduran, believes it will not.

“Now begins the task of meeting the new ministers (cabinet members) appointed by the new government to brief them about projects and, hopefully, assist them in placing volunteers where the country feels they can be the most useful to their economic and social development.""