The son of Luis Manuel Jardines Castro, one of the 32 Cuban soldiers killed on January 3 in Caracas, made his loyalty to the Castro regime clear on state television.
"I am proud of him for fighting in Venezuela alongside Maduro," he stated.
Jardines Castro was a soldier in the Revolutionary Armed Forces (FAR) and worked as a driver. He would have turned 60 on January 30th.
When the journalist mentioned that she was in Venezuela defending Nicolás Maduro and the so-called "Bolivarian revolution," her son, who shares his father's name, agreed without hesitation.
"Likewise. May this example be followed by everyone, by the entire people of Cuba," he noted.
The young man also expressed his personal willingness to follow the same path. "I will follow his example. If I have to go fight in Venezuela, I will go at the right moment," he emphasized.
The testimony was presented as a demonstration of pride, generational continuity, and political commitment.
But beyond the epic tone, the words confirm a fact that the Cuban regime tries to gloss over: these military men did not die defending Cuba, but rather protecting a foreign dictator, Nicolás Maduro, during an operation that ended with his capture.
The narrative of heroism contrasts with the reality of a mission that was directly linked to the security of the Chavista political power.
Another relative from Jardines Castro appeared on television to reinforce that same message. "We feel pride. He was another revolutionary and represented our country. We know what Venezuela means to us. The brotherly people, and if we have to go, we will return."
The official coverage repeatedly emphasized that the attendance of the people at the tribute was spontaneous and voluntary.
That emphasis is not coincidental. It comes at a time when the government is experiencing its worst credibility crisis in decades. The population is burdened by constant blackouts, shortages of food and medicine, inflation, and deep social unrest.
In that context, the power needs to display images of support and unity. That is why the press insists so much that the people are acting "of their own free will" and that the relatives speak from a place of pride, even amid the pain.
What is not stated with the same clarity is that these men were in Caracas defending an authoritarian regime, not participating in a humanitarian cause. The narrative constructed by the state media seeks to transform a political security operation into a story of patriotic sacrifice.
In that scenario, the words of Jardines Castro's widow were also shared. "I know that he did not die at the best of times, but he did so with pride, with courage," she stated before the cameras.
He mentioned that he had been on a mission in Venezuela for a year, that he was "very happy" and eager to continue working there. "You would communicate with him, and he always had that joy and pride in the work he did."
He insisted that he arrived there of his own free will, "ready to do whatever it took," and he never complained.
"If he were here with us, he would say: 'if I have to do it again, I will do it again,' because those were his ideals," he assured.
The words of this family fit perfectly with the narrative that the State needs to present: men who are convinced, happy, and grateful to have been on that mission.
Beyond the emotional tone and the genuine pain of a wife, her words fit perfectly with the script that the State needs to present: convinced, happy men who are grateful for having been on that mission.
The television coverage also insisted on the reaction of the "people." The widow stated that she saw in the crowd "almost the same pain" as in the family members and that many waited until the last moment to pay their respects.
That image of spontaneous crowds is crucial for the state narrative, which needs to demonstrate social support at a time of widespread discontent.
Behind that façade, however, an uncomfortable truth emerges: Cuba had officers deployed in Caracas supporting a foreign power in crisis.
The testimonies of family members and military personnel who survived the attack confirm that this was not a symbolic presence or mere advisory role, but rather an operational involvement.
Thus, while television insists on the epic and the continuity of the "example," the deaths of the 32 soldiers reveal the real extent of Cuba's commitment to chavismo.
A commitment that doesn’t remain just in speeches, but translates into men sent to die far from home, broken families, and a human cost that the regime turns into propaganda.
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