Terrorists right here in Florida, complete with training camps -- noneed to go to the Middle East to

The coddled "terrorists" of South Florida

Anti-Castro Cuban exiles who have been linked to bombings and

assassinations are living free in Miami. Does the U.S. government have

a double standard when it comes to terror?

By Tristram Korten and Kirk Nielsen

Jan. 14, 2008 | On a hot subtropical Sunday, deep in the humid brush

bordering the Everglades west of Miami, Osiel Gonzalez squints down

the worn barrel of an AK-47 rifle and squeezes the trigger. With a

crack and kick the bullet whizzes over a field of neatly trimmed grass

and hits a human silhouette on a paper target 40 yards away.

Gonzalez wipes the sweat off his brow and smiles. Perspiration stains

the neck and armpits of his camouflage jacket. All around him are men

in fatigues, some flat-bellied on the grass shooting rounds, others

cleaning their weapons or picking through ammunition boxes. The air is

thick with cigar smoke. At age 71, Gonzalez is still one of the best

marksmen at this training camp for Alpha 66, the paramilitary Cuban

exile group formed in 1961 "with the intention of making commando type

attacks on Cuba," as the organization's Web site baldly puts it.

Gonzalez hopes to put his skills to use when the second revolution

comes, the one that will tear his homeland free from the grip of

communist dictator Fidel Castro. At that point Gonzalez hopes to have

a Cuban soldier in his sights, not a paper silhouette.

Plans to attack Cuba are constantly being hatched in South Florida.

Over the years militant exiles have been linked to everything from

downing airliners to hit-and-run commando raids on the Cuban coast to

hotel bombings in Havana. They've killed Cuban diplomats and made

numerous attempts on Castro's life.

But, other than an occasional federal gun charge, nothing much seems

to happen to most of these would-be revolutionaries. They are allowed

to train nearly unimpeded despite making explicit plans to violate the

70-year-old U.S. Neutrality Act and overthrow a sovereign country's

government. Though separate anti-terror laws passed in 1994 and 1996

would seem to apply directly to their activities, no one has ever been

charged for anti-Cuban terrorism under those laws. And 9/11 seems to

have changed nothing. In the past few years in South Florida, a newly

created local terrorism task force has investigated Jose Padilla and

the hapless Seas of David cult, and juries have delivered mixed

reviews, but no terrorism charges have been brought against anti-

Castro militants. The federal government has even failed to extradite

to other countries militants who are credibly accused of acts of

murder. Among the most notorious is Luis Posada Carriles, wanted for

bombing a Cuban jet in 1976 and Havana hotels in 1997. It is, perhaps,

a testament to the power of South Florida's crucial Cuban-American

voting bloc -- and the political allegiances of the current

president.

In Greater Miami, home to the majority of the nation's 1.5 million

Cuban-Americans, the presence of what could credibly be described as a

terrorist training camp has become an accepted norm during the half-

century of the anti-Castro Cuban diaspora. Alpha 66 and numerous other

paramilitary groups -- Comandos F4, Brigade 2506, Accion Cubana -- are

so common they've taken on the benign patina of Rotary Clubs with

weapons.

But Alpha 66 members are eager to remind you that even if they are

graying and prosperous they are not toothless old tigers. Their Web

site boasts that "in recent years" they've sabotaged Cuba's tourist

economy by attacking hotels in the beach resort of Caya Coco. At the

group's headquarters in the Little Havana neighborhood of Miami, the

walls are hung with the portraits of dozens of men who have died on

Alpha 66 missions.

To reach Alpha 66's South Florida camp you have to drive to the

farmlands west of Miami's sprawl, then wait for a guide. You follow

the guide down a winding, pitted dirt road for a few miles until you

get to a gate and a yellow watchtower hung with an old-fashioned

school bell. Behind a wall of trees and shrubs is a compound that

looks like a hunting lodge. A low-slung wood-plank bunker with a deck

and awning provides refuge from the sun.

Before hitting the range, the men -- there are no women here today --

had done maneuvers, marching in double file around the field, while a

short, barrel-chested former Cuban army officer named Ivan Ayala

barked directions: "Columna izquierda!" Many of the aging, uniformed

men laboring to make it around the field are veterans of the failed

CIA-backed Bay of Pigs invasion of 1961 and alumni of Castro's jails.

Some, like Osiel Gonzalez, even fought alongside Castro against Cuban

dictator Fulgencio Batista, before Castro's turn toward communism.

Most, if you believe them, have a "commando" mission or two with Alpha

under their belts -- landing on a remote beach and burning sugar cane

fields, or strafing a shoreline with machine-gun fire. In other words,

they've walked the walk of counterrevolutionary violence, even if it's

now reduced to a shuffle.

They deny they have anything in common with the militants hiding in

the caves of Afghanistan and Pakistan. "No, we are not terrorists,"

says Gonzalez, the second-in-command and a co-founder of the group

who, when he is not donning fatigues and shouldering a rifle, is a

financial consultant. "We don't want to kill civilians."

"Our goal is to free our country for our children and grandchildren,"

drawls Al Bacallao, who has already retreated to the porch's shade

behind Gonzalez and the shooting range. The 61-year-old Bacallao was

raised in Georgia after arriving from Cuba at age 8, and is the rare

Cuban exile with a Southern twang. "The United States fought for its

liberty, why can't we?"

But Alpha members may have a fluid definition of what a civilian is.

Raking the coast with .50-caliber machine-gun fire certainly does not

exclude civilian casualties, nor does attacking tourist spots. By his

own admission, Bacallao, who joined Alpha 66 23 years ago, has gone on

several missions to Cuba. In 1993 U.S. authorities arrested him and a

boatload of other men setting out for the island.

"Our plan was to land and make a hit and run -- those are the best

actions, you know," recounts Bacallao, as rifle shots punctuate the

air. "And we had everything on board; a .50 caliber gun, hand

grenades, AK-47s, plastic explosives. We had enough to blow up

Florida, Georgia and Alabama!" He lands hard on the "bam" in Alabama.

Then he laughs. "But we broke down. The motor started failing and the

currents were strong. Eventually we were picked up."

"Let me tell you, we were treated like animals," he says. "And all we

were trying to do was liberate our country."

But if he was treated like an animal, he is not in a cage. Federal

prosecutors charged him and his companions with illegal weapons

possession but a judge dismissed the case against most of the men, and

a jury found the rest not guilty. Like other anti-Castro exiles before

him, despite violent acts he is free to continue reporting to the

training camp, and free to continue preparing for counter-revolution.

Video: Photos and audio from Alpha 66's training camp

http://www.salon.com/news/feature/2008/01/14/cuba/