Colonel Enrique Sanchez had recently been appointed as head of Presidente Marcos' bodyguards in the presidential palace, just a couple of months ago. Sanchez had been working up his way through Tropico's military ranks for years, entering the ranks of the presidential guard as a mere private at the age of 18. Sanchez grew up in an impovershed family, his father worked as a stevedore on the docks near San Rafael, his mother as a farm hand at the local Santo Bello corn farm. Like the vast majority of families on Tropico, Sanchez's family lived in a shoddy, one room shack, living at a bare subsistence level.
Sanchez could have easily disappeared intot he squalor of early 20th century Tropico were it not for a distant relative living abroad, in Mexico. An uncle of Enrique, Carlos Mendoza, had became a successful small dry goods merchant in Mexico City, and as such was able to move Enrique to Mexico with him and in the process, receive a basic high school education. When he returned to Tropico at 17, he was one of the few residents on the island who held a high school diploma, and that in combination with his military prowess qualified him to enter Presidente Marcos' elite presidential guard. It was one of the few true opportunities that existed on Tropico.
Unbeknownst to his superiors, Sanchez had learned about the theories about Karl Marx when he was a student in Mexico, and became an avowed Marxist Leninist. For this to become known amongst the conservative officials of the Marcos regime spell the end of any kind of life for him on Tropico. His life in a poor family growing up left him no doubt about the rightness of the Communist cause. It was evil capitalists like the Marcos family and their cronies that made life so bleak for the working people of Tropico.
The Marcos family had ruled Tropico ever since the tiny island gained her independence from Spain in the war of 1898, with the help of the Americans, who installed and backed the family in exchange for looking out for American interests. The Marcos had done very little to modernize the country, and were all too happy to let the people on Tropico live in a kind of feudal squalor. Uneducated and ignorant, they were little more than chattel to the upper classes of Tropico, people who would work for nothing. The people slaved away while the ruling classes pocketed all the money to maintain their opulent lifestyles, doing nothing to develop the country for their people. Tropico was backwards and repressed, and as a result was one of the world's poorest and least developed nations. Many modern amenities, such as electricity or decent health care, were pretty much non-existent on the Island.
Sanchez wanted to change all that.
In June of that year, Tropico was hit by a massive hurricane that had wrecked havoc on much of the island. Not only had many of the shacks been destroyed, but so had many of the other public buildings like the fishing docks, police station, a few farms, the pub, the local church as well as the marketplace. All of these needed to be rebuilt. Worse still, the Marcos were concentrating on using the foreign aid money to repair the opulent presidential palace where they lived. The pigs had ruled Tropico for decades and were like foreign royals, sucking all they could out of Tropico for themselves and their American friends, and doing nothing for the people.
The actions of the Marcos family had put the Tropican people in a ripe state for revolution. Tired, bewildered, starved and desperate, they wanted now a government that would do things for them.
Sanchez saw it, and so did the KGB.
Agent Dmitri Godunov had read the KGB dossier on the presidential guards and knew about Sanchez' Leninist affiliations in Mexico. He had just been named head of the presidential guard, and the time was ripe for a Socialist revolution on Tropico. Stalin needed allies in the west, and here was a good as time as any to gain a foothold in America's backyard.
Godunov was gulping down glasses of vodka waith Sanchez. "You know, Enrique...." said Dmitri, "You're in a unique position to start a revolution in this country, change ir for the better. Get rid of this Marcos fascist regime. Free your people! I have guarantees from Comrade Stalin himself that the KGB will back you up, give you whatever you need!"
Sanchez mulled over his glass of Vodka. "But, comrade Godunov, do you think the Yanquis will tolerate a Communist regime in the hemisphere? They're in bed with the Marcos family and would not at all be happy about losing a precious little colony of theirs. And I don't know if the other soldiers would support me or not. It's an awful risk."
Boris held up his glass. "You worry too much, comrade. The Yanquis won't invade you directly unless they're provoked into doing so. Any aggression against you would be decried at the UN. And at any rate, any stunts they try will be through the CIA, not the military. That's where we come in."
Sanchez had considered all this as well. The country wanted a revolution, and he was the perfect man to lead it, from within. But would doing so just make him a crony of the Russians? He wanted a Socialist Tropico, but on Tropico's terms, not Moscow's.
It was probably best to keep this hidden as well.
'Comrade Godunov" said Enrique, "I think I can get most of the presidential guard ot back me in this coup. If your KGB backs me up on this, we can successfully institgate the revolution. The palace guards are like the people, fed up with how things are going. And they WILL follow me, but soe of the men will still be loyal to Marcos. To be honest, I don't know who to trust."
Godunov finished off his vodka. "Comrade, we will give you all the help we can. The KGB already has agents in the country. We're ready to go. All you have to do is get your men to mutiny against Marcos."
Sanchez pondered over this. "We'll be ready to go in a week." said Sanchez "I already know which commanders are with me. We'll begin the coup in a week's time. We must do it by surprise and throw Marcos off balance. He thinks he pays his officers enough, but he's shortchanging them. They want him gone, if for different reasons."
Godunov wryly smiled and held up the vodka bottle. "To the revolution, comrade, and the people's liberation of Tropico!"
2 AM the following Monday....
Sanchez was at the local barracks, with many of his officers and men assembled, ready to launch a sneak attack against the presidential palace. Sanchez had successfully rounded up 75% of the plaace guards with him, secretly and with the greatest of guile. The revolution was at hand.
"Men!" began Sanchez, "For decades our beautiful island has been in the hands of the corrupt and incompetent Marcos family, who have done nothing to modernize our country and improve the life of the people. They rule us like the Medieval kings of old, lowering our people to a serf like existence. They have built no schools, no hospitals, no factories, nothing for the people. There is no democracy in Tropico. Tonight, we change that! We will bring about a new government, a government for the people, a government that will take action! We will build a new society!"
Sanchez's men all cheered heartily, eager at the revolution that would soon topple the corrupt Marcos family they despised so much.
"Tomorrow, a new dawn, a golden dawn, will rise and a new chapter for our country will begin! Onwards to victory, comrades! We march on the palace tonight!"
With that, the men heartily cheered, and prepared themselves for the attack on the government. The revolution was in full swing.
Presidente Marcos was sleeping in his master bedroom in the presidential palace with his mistress, when all of a sudden he was jolted awake by the sound of gunfire and grenade explosions outside the palace yard. A greying, balding man in his fifties with a full beard, he grabbed his military uniform and slapped it on in due haste, not fully closing his buttons. A palace guard lieutenant came charging into the room.
"Sir!" yelled out the guard, "We must get you out of here immediately! It's a coup by a lot of the palace guards!"
Marcos was shocked. "Jesus, how many of them? Sanchez, where the hell is Sanchez?" he said, looking around in panic.
The Lieutenant looked down at the floor. "It is Sanchez who is leading the coup, El Presidente, and it looks like he has most of the palace guard with him. They're at the palace gates now as we speak. Our men are holding them off."
Marcos sat there, in total disbelief. "How could Sanchez betray me like this? I made him head of the guard, and now he betrays me? I should hang him up by piano wire!"
The Lieutenant hurried Marcos along. "We have your family on your yacht, Presidente. We can get you on too if you leave now!"
Marcos looked outside to see his former palace guards come charging past the gates towards the palace. He knew he was finished. He had to leave the country.
He sobbed, all shaken up. "My country, I lost my country....". The lieutenant escorted Marcos outside his backyard towards the dock where his yacht was kept, followed by a few other soldiers. Marcos sadly boarded his yacht, and a minute later his boat was on the way, headed north towards Miami. The Marcos family was gone. Sanchez' soldiers stormed the palace, mopping up what little resistance remained. The lieutenant and the other soldiers surrendered to Sanchez and his men when they came to the back looking for Marcos, and were executed by firing squad soon after.