definitive return. Following the democratic election of March 1973, the Peronist Héctor José Cámpora had been named president of the republic, since Perón himself was not allowed to run. Everyone knew it was merely a transition to pave the way for the generalâs return to power.
When Theo stopped by to pick up Julia on his way to join the welcome rally at Ezeiza Airport, Mama Finaâs desperate attempts to dissuade them were no match for their enthusiasm. After all, Julia had changed a lot too. In the space of just a few months she had become a young woman, keen to prove her independence.
They arrived at Ezeiza under the thrust of the vast sea of humanity that had come to greet the general and was now fanning out around the platform that had been set up for him to deliver a speech. Hand in hand, Theo and Julia squeezed their way through to the pillar where activists representing the political arm of the Montoneros had gathered next to youths from the Justicialist Liberation Front and Peronist Armed Forces militants. They hoped they might find Gabriel there. Their mission proved completely impossible. There were more than two million people gathered there on that winter morning.
The weather was cold with a biting wind, but the youngpeople, dressed in thin clothes, seemed not to notice. True, it was a sunny day. But what was really keeping the crowd warm was their newfound freedom following the military juntaâs departure. As the excitement grew to a fever pitch, so the temperature rose too. The Montoneros, who had recently formed a political wing, were chanting their overtly revolutionary slogans loud and clear. Despite knowing very little about politics, Julia could see that the Montoneros were the most numerous among the Peronist forces present and were in a position of strength. She could feel herself getting carried away by the collective emotion; she was part of this human mass whose heart was beating in unison with hers. There was a primitive feeling of power and victory in the air that she had never experienced before and that she found intoxicating.
Giving up on the idea of trying to find Gabriel, Theo and Julia elbowed their way toward the platform, hoping to get a closer view of the man who stirred the hearts of all Argentines. A rumor began to spread that the generalâs plane had been diverted to Morón Airport, and a ripple of anxiety spread through the crowd.
That was when the shooting began. Bullets sprayed in all directions. The crowd panicked and began to crush and sway, swallowing Julia. Her hand slipped out of Theoâs and she lost sight of him. Summoning all her strength, she tried to fight against the tide in the direction in which he had disappeared. She was jostled and fell to the ground, narrowly escaping being trampled underfoot in the stampede. Someone collapsedat her feet, spattering her with blood. The crowd scattered, screaming, leaving Julia at the center of a wide circle next to a wounded young woman lying in a dark puddle. They immediately became a target for the snipers. Julia grabbed the young woman under her arms and began to drag her backward, trying to regain the shelter of the crowd.
She managed to pull the woman to a spot where the ground sloped down. She stayed in her improvised trench until late afternoon, when the shooting finally came to an end. The girl had sustained a bullet wound to the leg and was still losing blood. Julia laid her down as best as she could and, as a last resort, used the belt of her dress as a tourniquet, tying it above the womanâs knee. She had to get her out of there right away.
She followed the shadowy figures that rose up out of hiding places like her own and fled silently into the grayness. Julia and the wounded young woman reached the road. She begged Julia not to take her to the hospital, confessing that she was an active member of the Montonerosâ clandestine networks. Her name was Rosa.
A shopkeeper on his
When Theo stopped by to pick up Julia on his way to join the welcome rally at Ezeiza Airport, Mama Finaâs desperate attempts to dissuade them were no match for their enthusiasm. After all, Julia had changed a lot too. In the space of just a few months she had become a young woman, keen to prove her independence.
They arrived at Ezeiza under the thrust of the vast sea of humanity that had come to greet the general and was now fanning out around the platform that had been set up for him to deliver a speech. Hand in hand, Theo and Julia squeezed their way through to the pillar where activists representing the political arm of the Montoneros had gathered next to youths from the Justicialist Liberation Front and Peronist Armed Forces militants. They hoped they might find Gabriel there. Their mission proved completely impossible. There were more than two million people gathered there on that winter morning.
The weather was cold with a biting wind, but the youngpeople, dressed in thin clothes, seemed not to notice. True, it was a sunny day. But what was really keeping the crowd warm was their newfound freedom following the military juntaâs departure. As the excitement grew to a fever pitch, so the temperature rose too. The Montoneros, who had recently formed a political wing, were chanting their overtly revolutionary slogans loud and clear. Despite knowing very little about politics, Julia could see that the Montoneros were the most numerous among the Peronist forces present and were in a position of strength. She could feel herself getting carried away by the collective emotion; she was part of this human mass whose heart was beating in unison with hers. There was a primitive feeling of power and victory in the air that she had never experienced before and that she found intoxicating.
Giving up on the idea of trying to find Gabriel, Theo and Julia elbowed their way toward the platform, hoping to get a closer view of the man who stirred the hearts of all Argentines. A rumor began to spread that the generalâs plane had been diverted to Morón Airport, and a ripple of anxiety spread through the crowd.
That was when the shooting began. Bullets sprayed in all directions. The crowd panicked and began to crush and sway, swallowing Julia. Her hand slipped out of Theoâs and she lost sight of him. Summoning all her strength, she tried to fight against the tide in the direction in which he had disappeared. She was jostled and fell to the ground, narrowly escaping being trampled underfoot in the stampede. Someone collapsedat her feet, spattering her with blood. The crowd scattered, screaming, leaving Julia at the center of a wide circle next to a wounded young woman lying in a dark puddle. They immediately became a target for the snipers. Julia grabbed the young woman under her arms and began to drag her backward, trying to regain the shelter of the crowd.
She managed to pull the woman to a spot where the ground sloped down. She stayed in her improvised trench until late afternoon, when the shooting finally came to an end. The girl had sustained a bullet wound to the leg and was still losing blood. Julia laid her down as best as she could and, as a last resort, used the belt of her dress as a tourniquet, tying it above the womanâs knee. She had to get her out of there right away.
She followed the shadowy figures that rose up out of hiding places like her own and fled silently into the grayness. Julia and the wounded young woman reached the road. She begged Julia not to take her to the hospital, confessing that she was an active member of the Montonerosâ clandestine networks. Her name was Rosa.
A shopkeeper on his
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