Report 13 – Don’t cry for me Argentina – Our song from Bahia Blanca.

Report 13: Don’t cry for me Argentina – Our song from Bahia Blanca.

We quickly found out that Bahia Blanca was nothing for sailors. We ended up in a place where there was only the horizon, deep green pasture to the left and right. Buenos Aires was about 700 km away in north westerly direction. We did not even come to a town center, but only to a short pier, on which stood a large grain silo. Otherwise all was surrounded by pampas, cows and horses, and the certainty that our ship will quickly be filled up with grain and immediately after that set sail northwards.

But this did not work out. After the Pope had excommunicated the argentine Juan Peron two months ago, naval officers staged a coup just 1__at the moment of our landing. For the Navy, all presidential efforts, to maintain the luminance of the three years before deceased wife, Eva Peron for themselves had apparently yielded little success.

The country had its share of Eve’s doubles, few in number, but the most important actresses that Argentina ever had. But the coup hit us as well. Our aspired short stay at a silo was involved with military uncertainties. The loyal army feared an attack from parts of naval coup troops, and the Pamir should float as a blockade ship or, if necessary, be sunk to block the fairway to port. Although we were not afraid, but we set free our anger. Should we sit in the boonies, while our ship is being sunk?

Some commander got wind of this. To moderate our petulance, he sent, an Eva-Double without much advanced notification that, wearing a neat outfit, described without much preliminary skirmishing in fluent English, the great devotion of the Argentine population to Eva Peron, saying that the 2_rebels could not damage Eve’s shining star for the good of the country and the President. When this convinced us somewhat, her people turned on a large gramophone, and to a worn out melody our Eve sang:  „Don’t cry for me Argentina… .“

That was wonderful, so nice that we had quickly learned the chorus and repeated it loudly. Now we worshiped this woman, but not for long, because hours later we were told that Juan Peron had fled the country to the President of Paraguay. Therefore, our role as blockade-runners was abandoned and our immediate departure was prepared. We remained with the song on the lips. It was humming and singing until all sails were set for the trip to Europe.


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