Arquivos da Categoria: Operation Mutum Book


(Episode 33)

That night on Wednesday, as happened every night of Wednesday and Thursday and on Saturday afternoons and Sunday, a group of fans gathered in Paul’s Bar and in other places where there was a television set exposed to public to attend football games of the carioca or Paulista championship and the matches of the Brazilian team. In Mutum they were only captured the signs of Rede Globo, Rede Tupi and Rede Bandeirantes. All with direct programming of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo. The State Championship football matches were not broadcast live to Mutum, as were the Carioca and Paulista championships.

Nine at night, the Tupi Network broadcast the game between Flamengo and Portuguesa, the Campeonato Carioca, direct Maracana. No one there in Paul’s Bar, worried about what might be happening in the works of the road to Lajinha, on the edge of San Manuel and Mutum rivers, in the barracks of the military at the Municipal Stadium and not with bombs lost in São Roque.

What was important to all of us that night, were only the bids that were unfolding during the game and seen live on television in Mutum.

When the referee Arnaldo Cesar Coelho whistled the end of the match, Flamengo had won by 3-0, with a goal of Zico, a penalty and two goals from Luiz Paulo. Flamengo played with Cantarele, Junior, Rondineli, Luiz Carlos Rodrigues Neto, Liminha, Geraldo, Doval (who was replaced by Tom), Louie, Zico and Luiz Paulo.

The Flemish technician was Joubert.

The Portuguese played with Iris, Calibe Daniel Fernando (who was replaced by Niltinho) Jurandir, Carlinhos, Dinho, Jair, Charlemagne, Russian and Filet (replaced by Nivaldo).

The Portuguese Technician was Luis Mariano.

The Bar Paulo, after the game was getting the little empty. There remained only a poor souls watching, including me, in a table. While the class took beer I did not drink anything that had alcohol, I drank juice and soda as we talked about various subjects. Pure philosophy tavern. Wisdom bar table. Talk thrown away. Gossip, many gossip. These, the most recent, I learned through Fê, who was always very well informed. And that had entered the bar at one point taken me by the arm and led her to the square, where we sat on a garden bench. There I heard.

The parents of Fernanda, Faith to friends, as he liked to say, had changed Mutum to Goiania when she was a small child, five years.

The father, his Horace, had been approved in competition for the INPS and appointed to the State of Goiás Capital.

His mother, Dona Carlinha, accompanied her husband as a simple housewife. But arriving in Goiania, he got a place as municipal teacher. They lived in Goiás for seventeen years, until his Horace got a transfer to INPS station in Ipanema. But they preferred to live in Mutum, where they lived all his relatives. Your Horace worked in Ipanema and spent weekends and holidays at home, along with Dona Carlinha and Faith. Until he could move up again, this for Mutum. Or until you retire.

To twenty-two years Faith swore feet together that would make nineteen, the most expensive stick. And he closed the face if anyone doubted it. But everybody liked her and no one wanted her to be upset. Mainly because if she did not like a person, alas it. She was addicted to gossip. And the addiction to gossip and gossip in the eyes of most people proved to be much worse than the worst of any other addiction. But Faith, whenever someone would speak, apologized and began saying “Go apologize, but although I know very little of …” and then uttered the language by the time it was necessary to exhaust all the subject of that person . Then he restarted with another. For those who claimed to know very little of someone, until she was always wonderfully well informed.

Sitting there that Wednesday, after watching the victory of my Flamengo on the English I was being updated by my friend Fernanda, the Fê on everything I did not know of Mutum. Overall, I was informing me of the hidden flirtations, who betrayed who with whom, who was fighting with her husband to the point of not talking more, but tried to keep up appearances so that there were no scandals, things like that. Gossip.

At one point he asked me if I was sleeping well these days that was going through my grandparents’ house. I told him that yes, he had a deep sleep, which almost never woke up during the night. And that was always going to lie down too late, which helped me get to sleep right away when poured. She gave a belly laugh and told me it was very good that I had a deep sleep, that night in my grandfather’s yard were sometimes very lively. And the dog that was loose there, Tiger, who was very angry, used to spend barking all night. Before I could say anything she explained.

The backyard of the house of my grandparents was very large, even huge. It began on the balcony of the kitchen and ended on the street that was on the river. For backyard protection, always full of chickens, ducks, ducks, turkeys, chickens d’Angola, goats and a pig sty for the pig farm, my grandfather always left there, loose, a brave dog, those who were only arrested, without seeing a lot of strange people. And when he saw someone who was not known, almost ended up. To avoid problems with people who frequented our house, which was always full of relatives and friends, the yard was divided into three parts, separated by gates. A small one that came out of the kitchen and, on the left side, was in a garden where there was a giant coconut tree, another one, where the grapevine was and the biggest one, where the exotic fruit trees like carambola, peludinha, mango, graviola, guava , Banana trees, cajá-mango and others. During the day the Tiger was in the bottom of the yard, which was the most. When released, he was the king of the hill. Very angry. Violent, even, reigned supreme among the other animals. Occasionally kill cats, skunks and even carpet snakes, which sometimes appeared in the yard. At night the gates were opened and the backyards were connected with nothing that could stop the Tiger watching from the kitchen door by the end of the yard, downstairs.

According to he told me He did, on some nights one expected the Tiger up for the smaller yard where was the vine grapes on the kitchen door and closed the gate isolating the lower yard. Here, then, the backyard of my grandparents came to be a place of bitching, of pure bitching, too fucking rolling there. A real zone.

When I wanted to know who frequented the yard she told me smiling that “I speak the miracle smoothly. Just do not tell the holy name “ and laughed at my face in amazement. And I said the poor tiger hardly let anyone sleep so much barking and jumping like mad at the gate, trying to “catch the scoundrel of the chicken thief” that every week was there and locked the gate, as said the Godmother Mary and Elvira, holding the Tiger in the lower yard, the kitchen. It was then I remembered a day when, in one of my trips on vacation Mutum, was walking through the yard when, on the floor, I saw a used condom. At the time I thought “But how this crap get here?” And had been thinking that someone must have thrown over the fence. Now the Faith had just tell me how the condom ended up in the backyard of my grandparents.

It was also the faith that I learned the history of Mirtes, who lived in Rua Beira Rio, where it ended our backyard.

When Mirtes moved from the countryside to the city, she came, her mother Dona Armenia and younger brother, Francisco. Mirtes was 12. His father was killed in an ambush and who killed him had not been found or discovered. The motives for the crime were also not known.

In the city, Dona Armenia worked as a seamstress and Mirtes, still young, have helped her mother selling hillbilly eggs and cakes made in house, from door to door. Francisco had a shoeshine box and stood in the square, shining shoes. They studied the two, and they were good students. The family of Dona Armenia was respected and admired by everyone for both working. All worked. This was the story that everyone knew. He told me the Faith, as they grew, Mirtes was being observed by someone, a person with much economic power, which now has a special interest for her. This interest began on a day that Mirtes spent by that person on the street and greeted, as he did with everyone. But the way she looked left the busy person. Mirtes was then fourteen. I had a well-developed body and was becoming an admirable woman. Who did not know her think she had about eighteen to twenty years. But would still be fifteen. On that day, the person called and asked him if he knew how to do nails. She said it was their own nails and her mother. But I had never studied for it. The person then told him that was later to his home and sought his wife. She would teach him to do right nails. Thus began the story of Mirtes as manicures and pedicures.

Every day she went to the person ‘s house wife – Did insisted on not name “the miracle I speak, but do not tell the holy name” – which was training the techniques of nail care. The hands and feet. When he arrived, he had someone else to act as his guinea pig. Soon his skills were already recognized and was already a professional. In a case he kept all the material he used for his work and soon spread through the city the news that had nails domicile. The case had been brought to São Paulo by the wife of the person who told him, when asked how he would pay “is a gift for you to start your career” and concluded “I just want to come do my nails every Saturday” . Thus they were combined.

When I asked how she knew Did this story, she told me that the very Mirtes had told him. But most of the story only she knew. And that much was spoken but there was little truth to what others said. “Backbiting, you know how it is,” he said smiling.

Mirtes not long to have a large number of women who have become their customers, to make nails in their homes throughout the week. I spent the whole day through the city from one side to the other, working. I rode the scripts as the schedule that was. I was starting to make some money that had already regain confidence in their future. I thought to help the mother and give a tidy the house.

I was fifteen years old when, on a Saturday afternoon, was in the house of that person, when it started to fall a storm of those raze the world. Both she and the wife of the person, were sitting in the inner porch of the house, making the nails and talking animatedly. On television that was in the room he ran a film that both accompanied by the window overlooking the balcony to the living room. At one point in the movie, two characters kissed. Both women. There was a strange silence on the balcony. The two looked at each other awkwardly. The wife of the person forced a smile and said Mirtes that this was not the appropriate time for a kiss those. Mirtes, in his innocence, said he did not see anything else. That thought did not have the right time to two people kiss. Then the wife of the person asked if she thought the normal two women kissing and Mirtes said yes, he thought, that even thought beautiful. And when the wife of the person asked him if he dared to kiss another woman, Mirtes simply rose from the stool she was sitting on, walked over to where the wife of the person was, bent down and kissed her on the mouth, lightly. It was a quick kiss that left no flavor. Then he returned to his seat and continued to take care of one’s wife’s nails.

According to He did, that kiss was just the beginning of a series of kisses that still followed that day on the porch, in the living room, and finally the master bedroom, where the wife of the person began Mirtes in things sex.

At fifteen she was a virgin. I had a woman’s body, but had never dated. It had only been kissed a few times, for a more audacious boy in Pocrane, who had gone to play football in Mutum, on Sunday. But not kiss had been right. Now known what it was to kiss for real. With tongue in tongue, being held tight by another woman, feeling the body being covered by an avid mouth that kissed it all. I learned what it’s like horny, keep the between the legs on fire, feel a delicious languor when one’s wife’s tongue down her neck. For the first time it was laid bare by someone. And for every piece of clothing that was taken away from her body, more kisses, more hugs, more grips, but the language leaves her giddy.

Mirtes told Faith that just that day, went mad with pleasure, love and passion. As the person was traveling and his wife had stayed home alone, Mirtes decided to stay to sleep in the house of the person, even without telling her mother. I knew she would not mind because would imagine that Mirtes was sheltering from the storm in the home of some of its customers.

That night they made love, she and the wife of the person, even if exhausted. Mirtes never forgot everything that happened that Saturday.

Faith told me that was the person the first man to have Mirtes. And what happened the following Saturday that in which it was initiated by his wife. No trauma, no treason without any problem.

After staying a while silent Faith told me that anything I hear being spoken of Mirtes was actually invention. Especially when they called her a dyke. She was not romp. Nor was a bitch. I had never made love with another woman beyond one’s wife. And I had never given to any man unless that person. They just loved each other. The three loved each other. Anything I hear plus it was the purest and outright lie.

I pretended to be increasingly interested and was leaving the faith more and more talk, the excitement. It was right in the middle of the most lurid facts that faith let out information that made me widen my eyes and ask him to repeat what he had said. She then repeated what he had heard, she said, a city authority, she could not tell who was who were to take place in Mutum some prisons that would leave all surprised and frightened. When I insisted that she enlighten me better, she just told me it was very discreet and, though he could tell me the facts, this time she herself did not know who were the saints. And, smiling, he gave me a good-night kiss on the cheek and left me there, on a park bench, trying to understand what the Faith was talking about.

It was past two in the morning when I left the faith at the door of his house and went back to my grandparents’ house, still thinking about that story that there would be some arrests in the city, that Faith had told me.

(To be continued next week)



(Episode 32)

On Wednesday, 09 July, the river had lowered level signaling that there was no danger of more flooding. A military convoy went to the region of envy, which would resume the search for bombs and heavy machinery that had arrived during the night were moved to where would the road to recovery work. Mutum stirred up.

The reprimand given by Manfred Kurt when my last link to the Journal of the People still sounded in my head. All of us, the newspaper of the People, know the results of their intuitions: it always get it right. So I decided to do an analysis of what had happened in Mutum and try to see something that had been overlooked. It was then that I decided to read again, the papers that were stored in my grandfather’s bookshelf . “Something is not right,” I thought. “Where’s the news of the bombs in the newspapers? Have no nowhere. ” Leafed one by one again. Anything. When I talked to my grandfather he told me that he was finding all that business of very strange bombs. He concluded by saying “Imagine if such a bomb was atomic.” There was my curiosity aroused once. I ran to the bookcase and began searching the newspaper that interested me. When found, I read the headline printed on the first page “BRAZIL BEGINS ITS NUCLEAR PROJECT”.

The news had been published in the Folha de São Paulo on 28 June, so the day before the bombs were “lost” on Mutum by a bomber of the Brazilian Air Force. “A lot of coincidence , ” I thought. And I remembered immediately Manfred Kurt. “There are things, certainly there are things” . I took scissors and cut out the text, which read:

“The Government announced yesterday the National Congress and the Brazilian people the full text of the Nuclear Cooperation Agreement signed at 6 h 45 (GMT, in Bonn, with the Federal Republic of Germany. The communication was read by Senator Virgilio Tavora.

Basically, the agreement involves understandings that will provide Brazil the installation of eight nuclear power plants, a uranium enrichment plant, a nuclear engineering company and a company of heavy components. Overall, the program will involve investment of ten billion dollars (more than eighty billion cruzeiros).

Although the official text of the agreement does not explicitly mention the fact, “subsidies on the Brazil-Germany Agreement”, released by the Presidential Palace, reveal that Brazil agreed to submit their nuclear activities to the control of the International Atomic Energy Agency, the body UN, with which our country must sign another agreement before receiving any equipment or German material.

The Secretary of State Henry Kissinger sent a letter – the contents of which will likely be released today – the Azeredo da Silveira Minister, explaining the official position of the United States. (P.15 “).

After reading and rereading several times what had been disclosed about the nuclear agreement signed between Brazil and Germany, I began to wonder what would have happened if it was as I said my grandfather. And if they were nuclear bombs?

I remembered what had happened something like that a few years earlier, in Spain. I called the Journal of the People in Belo Horizonte and asked Manfred Kurt to send me information about what had happened similar in Spain. He sent me via fax from City Hall.

The article received was published by Jonas Liasch in an aeronautical culture magazine. That happened in 1966, Palomares in the coastal region of Spain.

“During the 1950s and 1960s, the height of the Cold War, both the Soviet aircraft as US regularly carrying nuclear weapons on board, in order to enter in immediate combat to” retaliate aggression “. Of course, a constant fear was: What if an armed aircraft with nuclear bombs had an accident?

The scientists who planned and built the bombs had this concern and, as accidents with aircraft were seen as almost inevitable, they designed the artifacts in order to avoid, at any cost, an accidental nuclear explosion, which could be catastrophic. In fact, although there were accidents, no nuclear bomb accidentally exploded today. Still, it is clear that an accident involving nuclear bombs is a dramatic event, and what occurred on January 17, 1966 on the Mediterranean coast of Spain, near the town of Palomares, was one of the worst.

The accident involved a bomber Boeing B-52G, carrying four thermonuclear bombs B28, 1.5 megatons, and a KC-135 tanker, both of the United States Air Force, carrying 110,000 liters of fuel. The B-52 had taken off from Turkey, along with other airplanes of the same group, and flew to his base in North Carolina, USA.

The two aircraft were flying at about 31,000 feet above sea level of the Mediterranean Sea when they came to start the refueling operation, the second of the mission, at 10 hours and 30 minutes of January 17, 1966. The B-52 is He came too close, being achieved in full by the supply boom, already extended by the tanker operator, and crashed into the belly of the KC-135, which exploded then killing its four occupants. The B-52 also exploded, but 4 of the 7 crew members managed to escape by jumping from parachute before the explosion, and were not hurt.

Of the four nuclear bombs on board, three fell on the ground, in the fishing village of Palomares and one fell into the sea. conventional explosives in two of the bombs that fell on the ground exploded, spreading the plutonium fragments area, the most dangerous chemical known. Fortunately, and to the astonishment of the surviving crew of the B-52, there was no nuclear explosion.

The United States Air Force (USAF) quickly set up a war operation to rescue the nuclear bombs and clean the area. Three pumps were found in less than 24 hours after the accident. Two were destroyed and another was relatively intact. The fourth bomb was not found, and soon concluded that he had fallen into the sea.

Civilians in the area were all evacuated due to the danger of plutonium waste scattered by the blast. The bombs and debris on the ground were removed, as well as a lot of the next field. However, 15 percent of plutonium scattered by the explosion, by about 3 km, was never found. The biggest problem, however, was to locate the bomb that fell into the sea.

On January 22, the USAF asked for help to the Secretary of the Navy, and the Navy dispatched to the scene no less than 19 warships to locate the artifact. It was not easy to find the bomb.

Eighty days of searching took until it was found by a mini-submarine Alvin, to 869 meters deep and 5 nautical miles from the coast. The bomb was finally recovered, thanks to a device called “CURV” designed to retrieve torpedoes from the seabed. “

I finished reading the article with the impression that the two facts were very similar among themselves. It was too coincidental. There was something that was not quite hitting the whole story.

I started thinking about two things and some things seemed to become clearer. “If the plane came to be seen by some people that means it was lower than the Palomares accident. The there were 31,000 feet which is 9,448 meters or so. It is a lot of time to see the living eye. So here should be much lower. But it will be flying low is still so far from Victoria? “

At dusk the military convoy had not returned and learned, by a resident of the area where the military was, who had set up tents and spend the night camped near the envied, where they would resume the search in the morning.

The work was being hampered because of the gunk left by the rain and because some small streams, which were usually minimal, had become almost dangerous rivers with rapids, so much was the volume of water they had acquired.

With the fall of the barrier in Lajinha road, the crater that had been formed and streams of the region transformed into rivers, the trucks had to stay far from where the soldiers were. Thus, the search command decided it would be best to camp there, to continue to look the other day.

Near where they were camped soldiers, landfill work and road recovery that had been destroyed by the sliding of the huge stone, continued into the night. Huge reflectors have been installed to allow the work was not interrupted by the lack of illumination.

Trucks-buckets came and went carrying muddy red earth, which were taken by big backhoes and bulldozers, a site located about three kilometers down and dumped in the crater, where they worked a leveling bike and a roller compactor.

The road would not be long to be used again.

(To be continued next week)


  (Episode 31)

There around noon the sun showed its face in yellow clouds of rags and began to move slowly in the sky toward the end. First, it was like a star in the firmament dissolution, which seemed to rinsed and soaped by rain. Then a cobalt spot extending to the east and finally a red-yellow glow springing up on the horizon.

In the sky Mutum the sun showed his radiant face laughing and everything changed completely, becoming either brown or green or blue. Earth Brown still muddy. Green of the forests still wet from the rain. Blue now sky free of clouds, lightning and thunder.

The cessation of rain allowed the city to return to have the normal movement of the normal vacation days. People returned to walk the streets and the square was again acquiring life.

In the makeshift headquarters at the Municipal Stadium that day, a new concern arose beyond the main, which was to find the bombs: the river.

With the amount of rain in the headwaters of the São Manoel and Mutum rivers, the volume of the water was rising very quickly and there was a good chance that there was a flood of major proportions in the city. What could become a serious problem for the military, as the Municipal Stadium, where was installed the headquarters of the troops, it was always taken by the waters of the Rio Mutum, when filled too and get off your chest.

For determination of the general command of the troops, formed by Major Alfredo, Army, Major Lemos, the Air Force and Captain Frigate Coutinho, Navy, observers were stationed on the river to do the monitoring of the elevation of their level and allow, if necessary, the movement of troops to another safer place.

Whenever there was flood threat, three specific locations in town turned tourist attraction and were filled with people watching the river. The bridge gave way to the corner of the river, the waterfall of Ballet, at the exit to Aimorés and Beach Street, which is actually called  Quintino Bocaiúva Street , where the house where my parents lived when I was a kid. It was there, on Beach Street, which was the Municipal stadium, turned into barracks of troops.

When word got out that the river was rising went to the Beach Street to also see how far had increased. Arriving at your bank, I was invaded by memories of the time that was swimming and playing in its waters. There, feeling the bush smell, hearing the gurgling sound of the stream and the freshness of the water, the thought came to me the many times in my childhood, where I helped my parents to withdraw home everything they had of value before the river to invade the street with its waters.

At such times, the home of my grandparents, who was actually my house served as a guesthouse for my parents and my brothers and two or three families of their friends.

Even without there being a combination, the rising water was followed by a real ritual of change. To the extent that the river was taking street account, residents were leaving their homes one by one. I remember a time when anyone could go home. All had to withdraw. The water rose halfway up the hill leading to the  Benedito Valadares Square . From there we could see that some houses were completely underwater while other one could only see the roofs. Some more experienced people said that the waters on some occasions, came to climb up to ten meters beyond its normal level.

There, the strongest memories that overwhelmed me was the Mermaid.

Oh, how beautiful it was the Mermaid. Of course, this was not his real name. His name was Totonha or Antonia, his real name.

I lived in one of those, leaving the streets Benedito Valadares Square, ended at the river, at a place we called small beach next to the Quintino Bocaiúva Street, we called Beach Street. It was there where stood the wooden boat that was crossing to the other side of the river where there was a kind of continuation of the city. A place with a few houses, which could only be achieved through the river by canoe, since it had no bridge. A cattle farm, in fact.

It was also the small beach, the part of the river where we children and adolescents at the time, we swam. Every day some of us, in my time, it launched the high embankment in a acrobatic jump, plunged into the water and continued swimming to the other side. There, on the other side, about thirty meters later where there was a wide space without weeds and full of sand, we got out of the water, rested and we made our way back to the shore from where we had left.

Ah, but what about the Mermaid? Well, the Mermaid also used this same space of the river to swim. Only she did differently. Not just across the river, as was our custom. She threw the water, swam to the middle of the river and stood there, playing in the stream. Sinking, fading into the background and back, meters below where sunk. Swimming against the current for soon after being carried away by the waters, to a point. There, he plunged again and would start all over again. Spent hours playing. Alone. Even when there was someone in the room, also wanting to swim, she always went alone. Nobody, but nobody, I entered the water when she was there. A kind of respect or tacit agreement, which had never been done, really, but everyone respected.

What was she like? Beautiful simply beautiful. A brunette girl burned sun, which should have at the time, about sixteen, seventeen, with very blue eyes and always showing a smile, truly beautiful, face. His body was curvaceous and swayed lightly with high called sensual, to the floor. The Mermaid was a beautiful woman. Very tasty, the Mermaid.

He dressed always in short dresses, allowing us to see a good part of your legs. It had done well thighs, as if they had been shaped by an artist. Neither thin nor thick. But everyone wanted. And we’d like to see her swimming in the small beach.

The reason the same, so that we liked so much to see her swimming in the river was the fact that to do so, always wore a white, thin dress, which revealed her body. She wore no bra. Only a bold panties protecting their privacy. Her perky titties were a stunning beauty and seemed to want to jump out of the dress. All loved the perky titties Mermaid.

Said the gossips that respect everyone showed for her when she was swimming, had been imposed by the Mermaid when, one day, soon after having arrived from moving to the city for the first time entered the river to bathe and was harassed by a baggy boy from a wealthy family. He soon saw when swimming, entered the water behind her and tried to luff his body, first in a discreet way, but becoming more violent and abused when she rebuffed. So, those who watched the scene said she simply gave him a tremendous beating that began in the same water and ended up in the river, on the beach. Beat him mercilessly until the left almost passed out on the floor. No one ever came behind her, in the river, when he went swimming. thus born respect for bath Mermaid. And this regard increased further when he said later that before moving in Rio de Janeiro, where he lived for Mutum, practiced what at the time was known as martial arts. Dominated masterfully some techniques of oriental fights, involving maneuvers used by soldiers when war for self-defense in the melee. The Mermaid has shown in practice to be very capable of defending itself. The boy was never seen on the riverbank.

I admired and was part of the small circle of his friends. I say friends because she had many friends who surrounded her attention, listening to their stories about Rio de Janeiro, then recently transformed into Guanabara State, but had few friends. Not so long before, the wonderful city outside the Federal Capital. Full of spells and trickery.

She said she was born and lived on a hill in one of the most famous slums of the city, the Favela do Vidigal. There had grown up and learned to turn. Nobody, but nobody, she said, she puts her hands without her leave. And if forced the bar so that she did not like, I picked up to see what was good.

Like his friend, he heard his stories sometimes believing, now suspicious that invented everything, now totally disbelieving of saying the absurdities of the facts. But I never told her what I thought. Respect. That was good and she liked.

One day she told me she would get a visit from a cousin, who would come from Rio de Janeiro to spend a few days at his home and he wanted me to meet him. “You will know a little more of me, knowing him,” she told me. No sooner said than done.

The cousin of the Mermaid was called Carlos, but she called him Charlie Main Man. And he just called Totonha.

It was a different subject of people with whom we socialized. Had a marked security concerns, to the point of not sit anywhere with his back to the entrance. I was always front. Very swayed the body to the floor, arms swinging loose on the body, a typical walk of rascals we saw in the movies. Badly burned, he told us that lived on the beach, in the sand in the sun. That was where he worked. With the common people who liked the ocean. Everything about him, from his speech to the way of walking and the weird way of showing frightened by everything indicated, without any doubt, that was a tremendous scoundrel. He was an expert pool player. Second only when wanted. And he played only betting anything. Drink, cigarettes, money. And never go out to wherever he went without one knife that was in one of his pockets. In short, Charlie looked dangerous. And it was dangerous. But told me to be my friend, who had gone with my face, that our saints were beaten. But I confess I was a little afraid of him. Fear is something that we carry within us, that exists within us since we were created. Being afraid is the most normal thing in the world. The important thing is not to allow it to be greater than our will. We should arrest him. Do not allow escape our control. Otherwise, it will be he who will master us. It becomes you and have nothing we can against him. So I never let the Charlie or the Mermaid realized my fear. “Well, if he wants to be my friend, that is,” I thought.

One night, the unbearable heat would not let me sleep and decided to leave a little bit and I walked through the square, now empty. When looking at the street from the river I saw a mermaid walking toward small beach. I do not know why something made me follow her, not to let her notice. I saw when he arrived in the sand, took off all her clothes, tossed it aside and entered the water. The light of light was enough for me to see her going to the meeting of Charlie, who was there, standing, strong, naked, in the middle of the stream. As they hugged I went fast from there before they could notice my presence. After a couple of years later, the mermaid turned bitch at Casa Dulce in Governador Valadares.

This time, although the rivers had been very full, did not cause flooding in Beach Street, although inundate other areas of the city, in its surroundings.

Anyway, the rivers have become an attraction for the entire time they were receiving excess rainwater.

Although the situation in the city has not been quiet all, the Military Command based in Mutum was ordered to carry out the recovery work of the stretch destroyed the road connecting the city to Lajinha. To do the job arrived as early as the early afternoon, helicopter, military engineers specialized in the construction and repair of roads. Thus, the city gained new distractions: the observation of river flooding, the search for pumps and filling the open crater on Lajinha road. I already felt like I was on vacation.

Although feeding news Jornal do Povo, in Belo Horizonte, the biggest reason for my trip to Mutum, who was to accompany the searches of the bombs missed by a military plane, not evolved. Only two bombs had been found and searches the other two was becoming increasingly difficult. I felt, at times when connected to the writing, the tone employed by Manfred Kurt, he was getting angrier hour with the situation . “Shit, man, I know that there are things and you do not discover shit, sô. Turns “ said at the end of each conversation.

It was late at night when trucks carrying the machines that would be used in the work of landfill and road to recovery began arriving in Mutum, coming from Aimorés, where they had been brought to Victoria by train. All trucks and all machines were military.

(To be continued next week)


(Episode 30)
Captain Peixoto, sitting in the cabin of the heavy camouflaged truck, did not appear to be very happy. The day was cold and the rain didn’t seem to want to subside. On the contrary, the storm descended on them. A sulphurous lightning cleared the sky and the heavy clouds roared ominously, like huge sounding boxes. As if that were some kind of signal, a violent downpour began to fall.
The big REO M-34 truck snored its powerful engine and kept going down the dirt road, now pure mud, no matter what was ahead. He was brave and used to difficult terrain.
The Brazilian Army had started using REO trucks in 1958, when about 270 were purchased second hand from the United States army.
The REO M-34 was a VTNE (Non-Specialized Transport Vehicle of 2 ½ Ton, of American origin, which had already been used by the Brazilian army in campaigns to support the contingents sent by Brazil to compose the troops employed at UNEF (United Nation Emergency Force) in efforts to pacify the conflict between Israel and Egypt In Brazil, the REO M-34s were used in troop transport missions, towing artillery pieces and other non-specialized logistics functions. in Mutum.

Tucked up in his military cloak, Captain Peixoto watched the movement of the windshield wipers come and go in front of him, while his thoughts wandered, distant.
It was in 1972 that Captain Peixoto had been in Mutum for the first time. At that time, he was commanding a troop sent from Juiz de Fora, in charge of securing the city during municipal elections. He had been in town for an entire week. Everything had happened without the occurrence of any major incident that could threaten the tranquility of the election. When he returned to the barracks, he had been greeted and received a compliment to be added to his service record. Now he was there again, on a mission to command his men in search of the bombs lost by an airplane. Mission shit, he thought. “We only found two of those fucking bombs and I’ve already had two casualties.” Looking out through the truck window, he said to his driver, Private Mountain, “Go carefully on this climb, damn it. We just need to roll on a bank like this ”. When he had received the mission in Major Alfredo’s office, Major Alfredo had informed him that it would be a smooth and safe operation, to be carried out in a few days and, certainly, without any risk to his men. Now, they were there under a real flood, sliding in the mud and, to make matters worse, they had only found two bombs. Irritated, he turned and was going to say something to Private Mountain, when it seemed to him that the world was going to end.
Sergeant Pereira stood out wherever he was. Tall, thin, angular features, dark eyes, impassive manner and a large mouth with thin lips with an expression that could even show some sympathy. But Sergeant Pereira was no angel. Any smarter person would soon know that being your friend was good, but having him as an enemy was a very bad thing. For this reason, his subordinates did not even blink to carry out all his orders. It didn’t matter what they were. Sergeant Pereira, sitting in the back of his body, seemed absorbed and uninterested in everything that cold, damp morning. However, his gaze followed what was happening around him and his senses were heightened. Keyed up. He seemed to sense that something was wrong and that something was going to happen. Nobody said a word and the silence was not absolute, because, from time to time, it was broken by thunder that followed the streak of lightning in the sky. “It seems that the world will end in water,” thought Sergeant Pereira as he stared at the opening of the hood, trying to see the road. “What a dangerous road this shit road is. I can not see anything”
That’s when it just happened.

The Mountain Soldier carefully guided the REO down the muddy and winding road, watching the great puddles, always hoping to find a hole in them. Occasionally, he looked beside him, where Captain Peixoto was. He realized, right at the beginning of the trip, still in the city, that the captain was not well “He woke up with the egg turned over,” he thought. “It will be pissing me all the time, for sure.” Mountain Soldier, however, couldn’t be worried about what happened to Captain Peixoto. He had to worry about the road, the mud and the holes, Sergeant Pereira and the soldiers in the body. And the bluffs. Not counting the stones.

“Holy shit, what more granddaughter’s stones” he admired, looking at those big blocks of granite, which seemed to hang over the road. “Ah if this shit sucks”. He felt a chill go through his body. The heavy truck climbed slowly, in low gear, without any hurry. The Mountain Soldier also seemed to be in no hurry to lead his passengers to the end of the route traced by Captain Peixoto. “I’m going very slowly because I’m in a hurry,” he said softly, with a smile. “There is no point in rushing if we are unable to reach the end.”
The rain was intense and the windshield wipers were barely able to keep out the amount of water that dripped, leaving the glass foggy. Mountain Soldier already had some difficulty seeing the road. The wipers were running at full speed and although it was daytime, the headlights were on, casting two beams of light in front of the REO.
Upon hearing the crash, Soldier Mountain felt that the whole truck jerked and instinctively and violently stepped on the brake, holding the steering wheel firmly. Then he saw that he was no longer in control of anything.
Lieutenant Philogonio was seated in the cabin of the second truck that formed the convoy and was driven by Private Carlúcio.
For safety reasons, each vehicle was positioned about fifty meters from each other and, at that distance, under that real storm, it was only possible to follow the taillights of what was ahead.
Private Carlúcio heard the crash while he saw Private Mountain had hit the brakes of the truck in front of him. He did the same with what he was driving. With his braking, Lieutenant Philogonio, who was dozing, was thrown forward violently, just not hitting the windshield because he was prevented by the seat belt. But his body was shaken violently. “What the fuck is that, soldier? Got crazy?” he shouted as he tried to balance himself. The heavy truck still skidded for a few meters, before stopping across the narrow road. In the body, Sergeant Colombo, as well as the soldiers, who did not wait for the strike, were thrown forward, falling on each other. Then, with the other three trucks, there was a domino effect, with each one stopping next to the other, in a disordered way, as they realized that the one in front had braked.
Soldier Mountain and Captain Peixoto, at the moment of the crash, could see, at the same time, when the big stone moved, in the ravine on the left, some hundred meters in front of them. At first, slowly, causing a large amount of clay to descend on the road. Then everything collapsed and a river of mud came down carrying everything it found along the way. The truck, with Brakes applied by Soldier Mountain, was shaken violently and pushed back. The slide did not last more than a few seconds. But when it was over, there was no more road where the mud passed. There was only a huge hole left. A huge crater. The REO 34, led by Soldier Montanha, carrying Captain Peixoto, Sergeant Pereira and a handful of soldiers, had just not been swallowed by that extraordinary crater.
Recovered from the scare, Captain Peixoto made a quick assessment of the situation of his men and, after verifying that none were injured, radioed the barracks in Mutum, reporting the events. The connection between the main road between Mutum and Lajinha was not known until when, interrupted. And he ended his statement by stating “You can’t even walk here anymore on foot”.
It was getting dark when the train returned to the barracks. No other bombs had been found. The road to Lajinha was interrupted. The rain did not stop. The square was empty. Bar do Paulo was almost without any movement. But it was there that I took refuge that night, with a group of friends who, like me, were afraid of being stuck at home when it rained and ran out into the street at the sound of the first thunder. As long as there was an issue, we would stay there, sitting at Bar do Paulo, waiting for the dawn. When I retired to sleep it was after four in the morning and the rain was still falling insistently and cold.
(To be continued next week)

MUTUM OPERATION – July 7, 1975 – The Damista

(Episode 29)

Monday dawned with overcast skies and heavy rain. Another strong tropical storm was announced for the region. I knew from experience from the times I lived in Mutum that this would be a day to stay at home.
In Mutum, when it rains hard, the day gets very ugly. The best thing to do was not to leave because no umbrella would hold that storm that was about to fall. From the living room window I was looking at the empty square. I was absorbed, focused on my own thoughts, when, when I heard footsteps in the corridor, I turned to see who was coming over to where I was and saw my grandfather who turned and went up the stairs to the townhouse. It was when I turned to face the corridor that I noticed, in a corner of the room, the table with the chess and checkerboard. It was there that I learned to play with my uncle Levy. I stood there, looking at the table, the board and the memories of my childhood took over my thoughts.
At that time I was twelve years old and spent most of my time in Zequita’s barber salon, right next to my grandparents’ house, in the square. There, I shined customers’ shoes at the barbershop. The hall had a complete, tall, metal shoeshine chair, two large drawers where all the material needed for a good shine in any type of shoe was kept.
I earned a percentage for the number of shined pairs of shoes, which represented a sufficient amount of money for my expenses with nonsense. And the guarantee of admission on Sundays to watch the Sport games.
When he didn’t have shoes to shine, he played checkers with Zequita or with anyone who showed up and wanted a party. There were good players, and I, although at a young age, did not look bad with any of them. In addition to the Zequita lounge, there were chess boards and checkers in other places, such as the Clube Recreativo and Tringolingo, a club that belonged to Independente, a football club that rivaled Sport.
The best games took place on Saturdays, when the hall was full, with all the barber chairs occupied, and on Sunday mornings, after masses and services, as in the afternoons everyone was committed to Sport, with his red shirt as of America from Rio de Janeiro or with Tringolingo, with their yellow shirt like the Brazilian National team shirt. The room always closed at two in the afternoon, on Sunday, to allow Zequita time to go watch football.

One morning, I was in the salon when a man arrived to cut his hair and shine his shoes. While I was shining, he was watching the checkers closely. He was a black man, in his fifties, smiling and friendly.
He finished shining and stood there by the board, sapping. Frog was what we used to call those who stand by the side watching the games when we played, cheering for one or the other player and, sometimes, laughing at a wrong move or even making guesses when he thought there was a move that the player had not noticed. Many times the player adopted a procedure known as deceiving the frog, which was to see a clear and logical move and make another one, completely unexpected, just to see the frog squeak and then the player to enjoy his frustration for not having done it. the move the frog hoped he would make. It was always a dangerous procedure because, in the game of checkers, there are not many possibilities for variation for some moves without us getting complicated. But it was always worth it to provoke the frog.
I remember that the man whose shoes I had just greased did not prove to be a flat frog. He was watching the game all the time with a watchful eye, without even shaking his head when one move or another caused the frogs to shake.
When the board was free, he sat down and asked who could play a game with. Soon Zequita looked at the shoeshine chair and seeing that I was not shining, he said I knew how to play well and gave me a sign to accept the game.
The frogs were gone and we started playing with the empty room. Our first matches were play by play, being always decided in the final plays. Then, I started to lose always, more and more easily. As much as I tried to resist, I could not harden the game any more. So I said there was no way, that I couldn’t face it anymore. Then you started to speak, praising my way of playing and trying to stimulate me. And introduced himself.
He was called Messias, he was a postal and telegraph employee in Juiz de Fora, he had gone to Mutum for a special line checking service and he was always competing for the Brazilian Checkers Championship. He praised my game once again and, opening a leather briefcase he carried with him, showed us some clippings from newspapers with reports of lathes and championships in which he had already participated in several places in Brazil, always with great prominence. She was, by far, much better than all of us, who played in Zequita’s salon. So he became interested in knowing where and how I learned to play checkers. I told him that I had learned from my uncle Levy, with whom I played checkers and chess when he came to Mutum, to visit us.

The Lord Messiah chuckled and said that was not what he was asking. When I showed offense, he explained that, at the beginning of our matches, I had really played in a bold and so safe way that he was surprised and had to work hard to beat me. But after that, he started to study my game little by little and soon, soon, he had no more difficulty in mastering me. Then he asked me if I read the Correio da Manhã. I said yes and he asked me if I knew Damista and I confirmed that I did.
Damista was a section of the Rio de Janeiro newspaper Correio da Manhã that featured the design of a checkerboard, with plays to be studied and decorated, always prepared by some of the best players in Brazil. I had gotten used to cutting and collecting these plays and then using them against my opponents when playing in the hall. The Lord Messiah asked me if I had kept any of those clippings and asked me to see them. I promptly ran to pick them up at my house, which was right there, next to the hall.
He then gave me the explanations that I did not have for my performance so irregular, strong at the beginning of the games and so weak at the end.
Among my clippings there were games of matches that I had used and that had been, to my amazement, prepared and sent by someone who signed M something, that is to say Messiah, the one who was there and who had played with me. And that started to give me an incredible wash in the checkerboard as soon as he identified, in my plays, his tips given in Damista. That I studied, cut, saved and used in my games against everyone who played with me.
So that I wouldn’t get discouraged because of the walk he had taken in the hall, Senhor Messias gave me a portable checkerboard as a gift, one of which the pieces are attached to the board by a magnet and a piece of advice: “you are an intelligent boy . Keep playing. And don’t stop reading Damista ”.
Lightning streaked across the sky and a deafening thunder shook the house, bringing me back to the reality of that rainy morning.
From where I was, in the living room of my grandparents’ house, I could see when the military convoy passed through the square and headed for the exit of the city, in the direction of Lajinha. “They’ll start searching again with all this rain,” I said quietly. “The craziest people”, I completed.
(To be continued next week)

mutum operation – THE CATHERINE

(Episode 24)

In a little place located not far from the Serra do São Roque, a few kilometers away from Pedra Invejada, lived Beniamino, known in Mutum as “O Catarina”, with his wife Donata. The former owner had assured him that there, at the foot of the mountain, could live quiet. It was all His Beniamino, the “Catherine” wanted.

He was born in Santa Catarina, where he had left as a young man to live in São Paulo, the capital. It was there, in the largest city of Brazil that things happened and did his Belarmino, the “Catherine” end up in a litle places in Mutum, from where he could see envied.

Big Stones in the town where he was born and lived, in the south of Santa Catarina, the young Beniamino Galletti Guzzo grew in the simplicity of a traditional Neapolitan family. There, in Great Stones, she studied until the completion of the agricultural technical course.

Soon after, he puts the head should drop the family and moved to São Paulo. There he worked, studied and graduated Agricultural Engineer.

After graduating he went to work in the city of Sertaozinho, in a model farm, where he became responsible for creating pig headquarters Duroc, where he stayed until 1972. That’s when he met Chico Talkative, nickname Francisco Matias Maia, a farmer from Mutum who had gone to Sertaozinho buy a consignment of breed pigs for slaughter.

Beniamino was responsible for the sale, as a representative of the farm where he worked, and was responsible for monitoring Chico Talkative to Mutum, there should guide the construction of its own facilities for the creation of animals. This process was expected to take place in a period of ninety days, when the first arrays should be delivered.

Before ninety days past the arrival of Beniamino he had decided that never again Sertaozinho and was in love with Donata, daughter of Santino Italian, owner of Dairy Factory Santa Matilde, so even with “c” before the “t”.

When Beniamino decided it would be in Mutum definitively told Donata would the Great Stones to inform parents of their decision to marry and invites them to attend and take her with him. They went to São Paulo in the company’s car where Beniamino still working. There he hung up employment and, along with Donata, flew to Florianopolis, from which followed the bus to Big Rocks. When they returned, Beniamino already considered mutuense.

They married in 1972 and were still living in sitiozinho that Beniamino bought very close to the envy, which he would not let him forget Big Stones, south of Santa Catarina, a town where he was born.

Beniamino was who found the first bomb and warned the Army personnel where she was in a small ravine north of their land.

He found it by chance, an almost late at night when I was going to check why their dogs are barking so much, as if some strange animal at bay, near the small pond in the ravine funds. The strange animal was that object, the bomb that should not be there.

The news that the military had found one of the bombs that had sought immediately, two practical purposes: the first, to confirm that all that strange story, that a plane had dropped their bombs in Mutum, was true. That meant all that, so if they had found one of the other bombs also existed and needed to be found, for sure. The second effect was to cause in each of the city’s residents, a huge and willful desire to help the military in demand. Thus, mainly young students on vacation, formed their groups of friends and proposed to change the placidity of the cold days of July, they went on without doing anything important, just shaking the city at dusk, the adventure of becoming, who knows. Possible heroes. As if they were themselves Indiana Jones in search of stray bombs.

It was this spirit of adventure, natural in young people, which facilitated the events surrounding Cristina Maria Dias.

(To be continued next week)


(Episode 23)
It must have been eleven, and I still hadn’t talked to anyone in town about the bombs. The encounter with Alice had stirred my ideas, taken my focus, distracted me. I need to do something, I thought. It was at that moment when I decided to go out and start talking to someone, that I heard altered voices. I went to the door of the bar and saw some people agitated, running in the direction of Praça da Igreja Matriz. My curiosity took me there, where I came across a canvas-covered military truck, surrounded by armed soldiers who prevented access to the vehicle. When I asked what was happening, they informed me that they had found the first bomb and that it was inside that truck.
It would be taken to the headquarters, in the Stadium, where it would be kept waiting for the others, as soon as they were found. According to information leaked by the military, it would be allowed to be seen, photographed and filmed later, by the general command of the military operation. There, more information about everything that had happened up to that moment would also be provided that night.
For the rest of that afternoon, my time was all directed to what would happen at night, in the general command of the bomb search operation, when the explanations that we all wanted to have would be provided.
The city was turned inside out. There was unusual excitement in the streets. People came and saw in all directions. Little groups formed and dissolved just as quickly. Press vehicles were positioned to cover the best spaces with their cameras and microphones at Praça Benedito Valadares and in the vicinity of the Headquarters of the Military Command, at the Municipal Stadium. I had put aside the idea of ​​talking to the residents. I thought it best to wait for the events that would come from the news that would be given to us officially.
That night we were then told that the bombs dropped on Mutum were incendiary. The one shown to us was a BINC 200. Its incendiary composition was Napalm B, stockable. According to what was reported, there were four bombs dropped on Mutum. One had already been located. There were still three to be found.
The BINC 200 is an incendiary pump designed for use by high performance aircraft. In the case of Mutum, a B-26 Bomber.
Built of steel, it has reinforced areas capable of withstanding the efforts made during the flight. Its tank is hermetically sealed, which makes it possible to use storable incendiary compositions.
In general, it is used against burning targets, such as fuel, ammunition and grain deposits; aircraft parking yards, etc. It can also be used against troops, thus being characterized as an anti-personnel weapon.
These incendiary devices had already been used by the FAB five years before, when the “Registro Operation” was carried out in Vale da Ribeira, in São Paulo, in 1970. It was the largest mobilization in the history of the II Army, when 2954 (two thousand nine hundred and fifty-four) men, composed of members of the Army Information Center, infantry regiments and paratroopers of the special forces, police of the São Paulo Military and Highway Police, DOPs, in addition to the Navy, with the mission of search and capture 9 (nine) members of the organization VPR (Popular Revolutionary Vanguard) commanded by former Army Captain Carlos Lamarca, who had installed two guerrilla training centers in that region.
The FAB actively participated in “Operation Registration” through the 1st Air Force, commanded by Brigadeiro Hipólito and employing 4 helicopters and 4 T – 26 airplanes, in addition to B-26 Bombardier aircraft.
During the “Operation Registration” in the Vale da Ribeira, FAB dropped Napalm incendiary bombs, type BINC 200, in the region.
With the intention of obtaining information about how the first BINC 200 was found, I went to the Hotel Pálace, which hosted the majority of the members of the press who had come to Mutum, to cover the case. There I learned then how it all happened.
The first bomb had been found by a besieger named Beniamino.
(To be continued next week)


(Episodes 18 and 19)

The nights in Mutum have always been very lively, since when I still lived there, during my childhood and adolescence. In my memories, I find myself standing on the sidewalk that surrounded the flower beds in Praça Benedito Valadares, where hundreds of people walk, every night, from dusk until the wee hours. This habit of spending hours and hours wandering around the square was known as footing, an expression that in English means taking an informal walk or walk. It was during footing that we flirted with the girls, chatted with friends and discussed football warmly. Especially on the days when Sport or Tringolingo played, which almost always happened on weekends. It was just the time between coming back from the soccer field, which was how we knew the Municipal Stadium, taking a shower, changing clothes and running to the square. Time to do the footing. Whoever had a girlfriend, sat on the cement benches, placed inside, among the well-kept flower beds, full of the most varied flowers and small trees, pruned into geometric or animal shapes. Banks could read the names of those who sponsored them. The lighting of the square was done by small decorative poles, worked artistically, from which hung the lamps protected by ornamental lamps. Those who were close to the banks always had their lamps out, leaving a dark space that was disputed by couples of lovers. The sooner they arrived, the greater the certainty of guaranteeing space in the dark benches. Some friends took turns using the benches, a couple staying there for a set time and then letting another occupy it. There, hugs and kisses took place, between making out and making out and making fun.
During the day there were few who sat on the benches in the garden of the square where the footing was done at night. The heat, caused by the very hot sun in the summer or the cold, excessive in the winter, naturally kept the people away from the square during the day. Factors aggravated by the fact that there are only small trees there, unable to create large shadows.
The same was no longer the case with the part of the square that was right in front of the Hotel dos Viajantes, which always had its benches occupied in the mornings, by some elderly people who sat there, taking advantage of the shadows of the trees, to chat.
There, too, were Arnaldo’s newsstand and Rui’s three shoeshine chairs.
In this part of the square, at night, there was no footing and no couple used the benches to date. At night, they were occupied by couples who lived around the square and there watched the movement in the garden, until the movement stopped.
During the stay of the military troops in Mutum, the footing started to have a greater interest on the part of women, since the soldiers, as they were called in a generic way, started to visit Praça Benedito Valadares when they were not on duty. Consequently, because they are strangers, they have become a kind of extra attraction. Many dating of some couples, until then considered firm, were ended with some “outside”, as we called them, as responsible.
In Mutum, as in some rural cities, there were some girls who did not like to date the boys in the city. They rarely accepted any of us as a boyfriend. But, whenever there was an event with the participation of someone from outside, it was certain that they were not alone. They could be seen in the small square, circling hugging their boys, not caring about the stares that were directed at them. In reality, it was all a matter of bairrismo, because when the situation was reversed, and some girl from outside appeared in the city, there was a real race between us, in an attempt to win her over and go to the meetings on the dark benches of the square. Only, in the case of the military who sought the bombs, we were in danger of losing even our steady girlfriends, because there were many and all from outside.
That’s how it happened with my friend Clemente, son of Dona Candinha Quitandeira and boyfriend of Marcília.
In my memories of my childhood, in Mutum, the figure of Dona Candinha Quitandeira has a special place.
The second drop
Clemente was my soccer companion, since the children’s sport. We grew up together, we were the same age and we were inseparable friends. Wherever one was, the other would be found, for sure. Dona Candinha accepted our friendship very well and went further, stating that “if these two were brothers, I don’t think they would match as much as they do, being friends”.
Not a day went by without me going to Clemente’s house. There, no matter what time she arrived, Dona Candinha made me and Clemente delight in some of the delicacies she did to serve her customers. While we ate, Dona Candinha was always with us, talking and laughing at our games. So time passed while we grew up. Until Clemente started dating Marcília, who was a beautiful brunette who lived on a street that was close to the water tank, where Clemente and I passed when we went to play football.
From seeing us passing so much and from so much that Clemente looked at her, Marcília ended up giving the ball to Clemente who, in turn and even being very shy, did not miss the chance. They started dating and our routine of friends was being left aside, little by little.
Then, of course, my visits to Clemente’s house were rare, diminishing until they became scarce. On training days, I no longer passed the street of Clemente’s house. I went straight from my house, in Praça Benedito Valadares, to the countryside, passing through other streets. In addition to being closer, I knew that Clemente would no longer be at home, because his time off was always spent in the company of Marcília, at her house or at one of her friends.
Whenever she saw Dona Candinha, in her wanderings around the city delivering her orders from greengrocers, she complained that I was gone, that I should show up, that I didn’t have to go there at her house only when Clemente was there. So, from time to time, I would arrive at Dona Candinha’s house. And whenever I did, I heard at some point she say “I don’t like this courtship of Clemente with this guy” and when I tried to argue in defense of the two, she replied “this girl doesn’t look good to him”.
My friend Clemente and his girlfriend Marcília had been together for a long time and all of us, his friends, knew that they would end up at the altar of the Matriz de São Manoel. They had even confided in me that I would be their godfather. They did not speak of dates, but they were certain to be married. No one was able to doubt this future reality.
When the bombs fell on Mutum I no longer lived there and Clemente and Marcília were engaged, planning the wedding of which I would be best man. They were still doing the footing in the square.
It was there one night that Marcília, who was awaiting the arrival of Clemente, realized that she was being watched by someone when she was walking with her friends. Curious, she tried in a discreet and disguised way to identify who was watching her. His eyes met that of a Navy soldier, who gave him a smile. From there, for a long time the two were looking for each other with their eyes, flirting in a very bold way. He, the soldier, standing on the sidewalk with other soldiers, and she, Marcília, walking with her friends around the square. From looking at each other, Marcília’s friends decided to give her a cover, since Clemente was slow to arrive. At a certain moment, they stopped by the small group of soldiers in which what flirted with Marcília was part of. Nobody knows what they talked about. What is certain is that shortly after Clemente’s arrival, Marcília told her that she was not feeling well and he took her home. Shortly afterwards, Clemente met me and others of his friends in the pool hall.

As we had not seen each other for a long time, we took the opportunity to update our conversation. The main point, of course, was the episode of the lost bombs, as they became known. We were talking and it was already very late when Clemente said goodbye saying he was going home because he would need to wake up early the next day.
Nobody cared when Dino Maluco entered Bar do Paulo, leaned against the counter and started laughing alone, as was his custom when he wanted to give some news about something he had seen in his wanderings around the city. He was laughing to himself until someone asked him what had happened. There, he would unravel his story. And so it was. When asked what had happened, Dino Maluco said that that night, he was passing through Marcília’s street, Clemente’s fiancee, when he saw Marcília exchanging hugs and kisses with someone other than Clemente. It was a soldier. They were in the alley of her house in the greatest naughtiness. He said that he had seen everything they did, but that they had not seen what he had seen. When someone said that what he was saying was absurd, and that he should be careful, because Clemente would not like anything he was making up, Mad Dino laughed and said that he had already told everything to Clemente, early in the morning , when he was going to work. And that Clemente hadn’t even fought with him.
That night, in the square during the footing, without anyone noticing or being able to prevent it, Clemente fired two shots at the belly of a sailor named Charles. Clemente was arrested in the act and taken to the headquarters of the Military Command, where he would be detained until the justice determined what to do with him. Sailor Charles, attended emergency, still in the square, was removed by helicopter to Vitória, where he was admitted in serious condition and at the Naval Hospital.
When I met Dona Candinha, the other day, and hugged her, saying how much I felt for Clemente, she gave me a sad smile saying only “Didn’t I say that Marcília was not a good bisque? It doesn’t fit my Clement. I knew she was no good for him ”. As for Marcília, on the same day she traveled to Aimorés, from where, according to one of her friends, she was going to take the train to Vitória. Where was the Naval Hospital.
The sailor became the second casualty among the military in charge of searching for the lost bombs in Mutum. And none of the bombs had yet been found.



(Episodes 14 and 15)

I had just had breakfast with my grandparents when I was informed by a cousin, who worked at the City Hall, that a meeting was taking place behind closed doors, in the solemn hall of the City Hall, attended by the Mayor, Dr Arquimedes de Souza, the three military commanders, Major Alfredo, of the Army, Major Lemos, of the Air Force and Captain-of-Frigate Coutinho, the Judge of Law Dr. Altamiro Lages, the Mayor of Pastor Freitas and other influential people in the city.
As was to be expected, the intense movement of military troops in the region had attracted the attention of the regional press and, consequently, journalists from different parts of the country came to Mutum, including from TV stations affiliated with the major National Television Networks.
Praça Benedito Valadares was crowded with people and cars, some equipped with special equipment that transformed them into real mobile radio and television stations. Wires and cables of all types, dimensions and sizes spread across the floor in several directions.
Everyone in the press was allowed to attend the meeting, but warned that making recordings, taking photos, as well as filming would not be allowed.
During the meeting, which took place in a peaceful atmosphere, but surrounded by many mysteries, official information from the Government was provided on what was actually happening in those days in Mutum. On behalf of the Armed Forces, Major Alfredo, representative of the Army, spoke.
Firstly, he informed that the Brazilian Armed Forces, represented there by troops from the Army, Navy and Air Force, in compliance with the determination of the Military Office of the Presidency of the Republic, was taking over command of the city militarily, for as long as necessary. Their mission was to search for and locate bombs that had been accidentally dropped by a military aircraft over the city.
He then explained that combat troops from the Army, Navy and Air Force, based in Rio de Janeiro, were participating in joint military maritime defense maneuvers on the coast of Espírito Santo, together with military troops from the United States of America and North America. Canada. And that one of the FAB’s B-26 bomber planes, which would join the troops, when flying over Mutum, suffered a breakdown, and, needing to get rid of the bombs it was carrying, dropped them in the region.
Unfortunately, explained the Major, the exact location of where they fell was not recorded on a map, as it should have occurred, due to the failure of the flight recorders. Even so, it could guarantee and guarantee that, for the location and recovery of all pumps, all the resources they had would be used and that these resources were the most modern existing. He assured that the bombs were safe and would be found, for sure, before they could become a danger to the population.
He ended by saying that the Brazilian Armed Forces counted on the help of the entire population of Mutum, that everyone should maintain tranquility, as well as avoid situations that could hinder the searches and the recovery of military artifacts. He ended his speech by guaranteeing that, after the mission with the location and collection of bombs had ended, the city command would be returned immediately to the civilians who governed it.
After the meeting was over, everything that had been informed by Major Alfredo was issued a bulletin and distributed to the press, which would be responsible for divulging the facts and the measures adopted by the authorities to the entire population. Military cars, equipped with loudspeakers, started to roam the streets, in all directions, transmitting the official information very clearly.
Now, yes, I was quite sure that there were things there. In my view, it was not very logical what was happening.
The joint maneuvers involving Brazilian and foreign military forces went back to the days of World War II, when President Getúlio Vargas signed a formal alliance with the United States in 1942. However, American warplanes, since May 1941, have already crossed the Atlantic and used air bases located in Brazilian lands for their actions.
It is true that the High Command of the Brazilian Army was opposed to the presence of American troops in Brazilian territory. But the United States Navy was already authorized by the Government of Brazil to use the ports of Recife, in Pernambuco and Salvador, in Bahia, and it has been doing so since 1941. Therefore, the two countries already had joint military actions even before the official signing of the alliance.
In 1942 Brazil definitively opened all ports and air and naval bases in its territory for the military operations of the forces of Vice Admiral Jonas Ingram, North American commander of the troops of the South Atlantic.

By decision of President Vargas, Commander Ingram also assumed, in an informal way, the command of all air and naval forces in Brazil, becoming, from then on, the true responsible for the maritime defense of the entire national territory.
That same year, 1942, in August, our country suffered the first aggressions by the Germans, with the bombing of Brazilian ships, off the coast of Bahia and Sergipe, with hundreds of deaths. Reacting, President Getúlio Vargas solemnly declared war on Germany and Italy. But today, here in Mutum, we were not at war with anyone.
Why were the bombs still not being sought, two days after they fell? Why had the Major said that they would be found before they became a danger to the population? What kind of danger was he referring to? What kind of bombs were the ones that fell on Mutum? How many were there?
For the rest of the day I dedicated myself to finding answers to these and other questions that did not leave my head. I didn’t get any satisfactory results. I was only able to confirm that a joint maneuver by the Brazilian and American Armed Forces was taking place on the capixada coast, with the possibility of observing several warships and some submarines at sea from the coast.
Major Alfredo’s information proceeded. There, on the coast of Espírito Santo was the beginning of everything that happened in Mutum. The joint military operation had caused a bomber plane stray from its flight to drop bombs over the city. But, what bombs would those be?
In order to better understand the facts and remove some doubts and concerns that insisted on not leaving me alone, I contacted the Jornal do Povo newsroom in Belo Horizonte, asking Manfredo Kurt to send me, by fax, all possible information about the event. that military leaders thought about national security policy.
The research was done and the information was sent to me, as requested.
I have already alluded to moments in Brazilian politics when we witnessed demonstrations by groups favorable to Brazil, through its foreign policy, to move away from capitalism, represented by the United States of America and to approach communism, represented by the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics – USSR. When these manifestations became public, in our country, they began to be seen by some military currents, as being a threat to national sovereignty.
The discussion that was necessary, still in the field of ideas, was, in principle, only and only around national sovereignty.
Sovereignty, so that we have a better understanding of the term, is one, integral and universal. Which means that it cannot be relative, nor conditioned by a dominant normative power that prevents it from being full.
The only possible exceptions to acceptance are those that concern the requirements for the peaceful coexistence of sovereign nations, provided for in international law, regulated by the United Nations – UN. Thus, nationalists considered that the United States, although representing capitalism worldwide, respected the sovereignty of countries under its influence, since this influence was felt only in the economic field. The countries of the capitalist bloc were sovereign.
The USSR, on the contrary, a country of continental dimension created in 1922, as a result of the Russian Revolution of 1917, formed by the union of the republics of Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Transcaucasia, Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, Moldova, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, had only one Central Government, located in Moscow, Russia, known as the Supreme Soviet. So, of course, the same nationalists concluded that the countries that made up the Soviet bloc did not have sovereignty.
Brazil, whenever it needed to align itself with one of the blocs of influence in the world, always did so to appear alongside the United States. As in the First and Second World Wars.
When the First World War happened, Brazil, initially supported by the Hague Convention, officially declared its neutrality on August 4, 1914.
In 1917, on April 11, Brazil declared war on Germany after the Brazilian ship “Paraná”, one of the largest in the Brazilian merchant navy, loaded with coffee, was sunk by the Germans. Three Brazilians were killed.
Brazil was the only Latin American country to participate in the First World War. His participation took place by sending some pilots of planes, warships and medical support. The Brazilians were tasked with patrolling the South Atlantic as a way to prevent the attack by German submarines.
During the war, Brazil increased its exports to the belligerent countries, mainly of rubber, cocoa, coffee and sugar.

During the Second World War the Brazilian Expeditionary Force – FEB participated in the retaking and liberation of Italy by the allied troops.
The campaign of the Brazilian Armed Forces – FEB in Europe foresaw the sending of up to 100,000 Brazilians to the battlefields. However, from 1943 to 1945, it involved 25,834 men and women, divided into an Infantry Division, a Reconnaissance Squadron and a Fighter Squadron.


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(Episodes 12 and 13)

When the first helicopter passed over the city, it must have been about nineteen. He went to the Municipal Stadium, where he landed. Soon after, and for most of the night, others arrived. I counted ten. Of these, seven were large, for the transport of troops. Just three little, squirrel-like ones. All with the emblem of Brazil.
In them you could read Brazilian Air Force – FAB, whose armed arm is the Air Operations Command (COMGAR), to which all air units, air bases and similar bodies are subordinate.
The helicopters operating in Mutum belonged to the 2nd Air Force or II FAe, headquartered in the city of Rio de Janeiro, which includes rotary wing units (helicopters) and search and rescue units, maritime patrol and support to the Navy in general. , subordinated to the III Regional Air Command l – COMAR, with headquarters in Rio de Janeiro and jurisdiction over the states of Rio de Janeiro, Minas Gerais and Espírito Santo.
While things were happening in Mutum, that first day after the bombs were lost by the military aircraft, the strongest thing became true, in my mind, the speech of my Chief Editor, that there were things there.
What was making me uncomfortable the most was the fact that the news about the bombing event had ceased, both on radio and television. Why had they ceased? Only the news given on Sunday had been released. No more. Nothing at all. Wouldn’t it be important to drop the bombs? If not, why move federal troops there? In the conversations that night, in Mutum, these were questions asked all the time without anyone knowing how to answer.
The city did not sleep. The streets that gave access to the Stadium, where the Army camp and Air Force helicopters were located, were forbidden to residents. Physical barriers were placed, reinforced by rolls of barbed wire and armed sentries were posted at their ends. The area was isolated.
The residents’ curiosity increased and many stayed up all night, watching the helicopters pass by. Thus ended June 30, 1975, a Monday, the first day after the bombs dropped in Mutum.

July 1, 1975
Vacation start

The morning of the next day, Tuesday, July 1st, started hectic. For two very specific reasons. That they had nothing to do with each other.
The first, when some people who had spent the night forming small groups, talking about the situation in the square, reported in the morning that during the morning another military convoy had arrived. This time, transporting troops from the Navy that joined those of the Army and Air Force, increasing the number of military personnel in action and definitively transforming the square in front of the Municipal Stadium into a war square.
The Navy troop deployed to Mutum, as I learned later, belonged to the Marine Corps Group of the 1st Naval District, subordinated to the Southeast Naval Patrol Group, based in Rio de Janeiro, whose mission is to carry out maritime rescue and rescue , naval, coastal operations and naval inspection, in order to contribute and ensure the safeguarding of human life and for the security and control of Brazil’s interests at sea.
The Brazilian Marine Corps (CFN) of the Brazilian Navy uses a Latin word – Adsumus – to show their readiness. According to the CFN Command it means: “Here we are”, reflecting the readiness and the permanent state of readiness of this professional troop.
In the specific case of its presence in Mutum, its mission was to give full support to the military actions of the Army and Air Force.
The second reason for the agitation of that morning on the second day after the bombs fell, was the arrival of a noisy group of students on vacation, coming in two on the Viação Melo bus, one who left at night, from Manhumirim and another who left Aimorés early morning. After all, school holidays began and, as always, the city should receive a large number of visitors throughout the month, in addition to the children of the land who studied abroad and returned each year in July to enjoy their families. in Mutum.
As expected, the city was transformed, stirring and losing its main characteristic, which was that it was a quiet city, with empty and calm streets. The presence of the military and the arrival of the students provoked an unheard of unrest in every part of the city.
(To be continued next week)

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