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The CIA’s original plan for Cuba was a slow, subtle guerrilla operation…. then someone started adding things. A combined air and sea assault. A march on Havana. Possibly US troops. By October 1960, what began as a quiet covert infiltration had turned into D-Day Jr., and nobody seemed to notice the plan had completely gotten away from them.

The CIA’s master plan for the Bay of Pigs invasion was, apparently, a cakewalk. The frogmen hit the coral reef they thought was seaweed, a light shorted out and alerted the shore, the winches on the landing boats squeaked loud enough to wake the neighbourhood, and Castro’s planes showed up at first light exactly as promised. By day three, the brigade commander’s final radio message was “I cannot wait for you”…. which is also, roughly, what Washington was thinking.

Castro expropriated every American-owned asset in Cuba, got kicked out of his New York hotel for looking like a credit risk, and ended up hosting Malcolm X in a rundown place in Harlem…. which Khrushchev immediately recognised as the greatest PR move he’d ever seen. Meanwhile, Castro’s sister was collaborating with the CIA, his brother was furious about the farm, and Trujillo tried to smuggle weapons to Cuban double agents who were, of course, working for Castro the whole time.

Eisenhower signs off on a covert plan to overthrow Castro in March 1960…. a plan which, to be clear, is literally titled “Program of Covert Action Against the Castro Regime.” Subtle. Meanwhile Cuba starts nationalising US oil refineries, Washington cuts the sugar quota, and Castro responds by reading the expropriation of 26 American corporations aloud at a baseball stadium at midnight while handling a dove like James Brown with a cape. The coffins of Esso, Shell and United Fruit are eventually carried to the sea and hurled in, in the hope the Gulf Stream takes them back to Florida.

The CIA didn’t want Cuba buying weapons from Britain, so Allen Dulles quietly leaned on the British ambassador to kill the deal…. hoping Cuba would get desperate enough to buy from the Soviets instead, at which point the US could say “look, commies” and invade. Pick up the gun. Meanwhile, Gordon Gray – the man formally tasked with overthrowing Cuba – came from a family that ran R.J. Reynolds Tobacco, which is interesting given that Cuba is, you know, where tobacco comes from. And then there’s William Morgan: Ohio-born, dishonourably discharged, convicted felon, snake charmer’s husband, Cuban revolutionary, frog leg tycoon, shot by firing squad one month before the Bay of Pigs.

A Belgian munitions ship called La Coubre blows up in Havana Harbour, killing somewhere between 75 and 100 people…. and Castro immediately points the finger at Washington, which is awkward given that the US had already been bombing Cuban sugar fields from Florida. Also at this funeral, Alberto Korda snaps a photo of Che Guevara that will eventually end up on condoms worldwide, and Castro coins the phrase that becomes the revolution’s motto: Patria O Muerte. The diplomats are starting to figure out what the CIA already knew months ago.

Mikoyan, Soviet deputy premier and ice cream king, rolls into Havana in February 1960 with a 40-person delegation, a science exhibit, and advice for Castro to just take all the American-owned land without compensation. Meanwhile, Cuba’s newspaper workers start inserting little clarification notes next to stories they disagree with…. which escalates until the clarifications are longer than the articles, and publishers start fleeing to Miami to write for the Herald. The oldest paper on the island holds an actual funeral for itself, complete with a coffin.

Cuba, 1959/1960, and Fidel Castro is desperately trying to walk the middle path…. no communism, no capitalism, just “humanism” – liberty with bread, bread without terror. Meanwhile one of his most senior commanders, Huber Matos, publicly resigns in protest at communist influence and ends up in solitary for 16 of the next 20 years. And then the Soviet Union’s most durable political survivor – the man who outlasted Lenin, Stalin, Khrushchev and Brezhnev, and personally controlled USSR ice cream quality standards – turns up in Havana.

This week we dig into the fallout from Castro’s agrarian reform law — the land grabs, the diplomatic notes flying between Havana and Washington, and the moment a Texas cattle baron handed Eisenhower the blueprint for 60+ years of US Cuba policy. We also cover Castro’s brilliant political theatre: a fake resignation on live TV that ended with a million people in the streets demanding he come back, and a new president who lasted about ten minutes.

On this episode we dig into the centrepiece of Cuba’s revolution — the Agrarian Reform Act of 1959. We break down exactly what the law said, why even the Cuban Communist Party thought Castro was moving too fast, and how ordinary Cubans from all walks of life started pooling their own money to make it happen. And we set up the moment one wealthy, well-connected American walked into Eisenhower’s office and arguably shaped US-Cuba policy for the next 75 years.

Fidel is the newly installed as Prime Minister of Cuba — and immediately does on a charm offensive to the United States, where he wows crowds, spars with Richard Nixon, and somehow convinces a CIA analyst he's basically anti-communist. Meanwhile, back in Washington, Eisenhower is conveniently playing golf... and quietly ordering the CIA to start planning Castro's removal.

This week we're deep in the early days of Castro's Cuba — watching a revolutionary figure out he's now got to actually run a country. We cover Castro's sweeping reforms: dissolving Congress, banning political parties, freezing corrupt officials' assets, and the messy reality of ruling from outside the government before finally taking the job of Prime Minister. Along the way, Cameron and Ray dig into why Latin America has never managed to unite against US interference — and why, in 2026, that failure is playing out in real time as Cuba goes dark.

This week we dig into the messy aftermath of Castro's victory — the revolutionary tribunals, the firing squads, and the international blowback that followed. We also get into Fidel's complicated personal life, including his stunning mistress Naty Revuelta, his secret illegitimate daughter Alina, and the gatekeeper Celia Sanchez who kept everyone at arm's length. Plus, Britain tells Castro to get stuffed when he asks for an apology, and Castro fires back at American media hypocrisy with some genuinely ballsy rhetoric.

It's January 1959, and Fidel Castro has just pulled off the impossible — a ragtag band of bearded rebels from the Sierra Maestra mountains has toppled the Batista dictatorship, and all of Cuba is euphoric. In Episode 304 of A Cold War, Cameron and Ray follow Castro's triumphant five-day journey from Santiago to Havana, tracking the 32-year-old revolutionary as he rolls into the capital on top of a tank, delivers a famously humble speech at Camp Columbia with a white dove settling on his shoulder, and is introduced to 50 million Americans via a very enthusiastic Ed Sullivan. But the honeymoon can't last forever. Behind the jubilation lies a country that needs to be governed, and Castro — equal parts rock star, military commander, and political improviser — is only sleeping two or three hours a night while trying to hold together a fractious coalition of communists, right-wingers, student radicals, and old rebels, none of whom entirely agree on what comes next. The rival Directorio Revolucionario seizes tanks and weapons demanding their share of glory, the new president Manuel Urrutia is already a problem in the making, and Che Guevara is quietly recovering from asthma at a beach house, wrestling with his own role in the new order. Celia Sánchez controls access to Castro like a one-woman firewall, while Castro himself roams Havana in a Jeep, micromanaging everything and holding shadow meetings with Communist Party secretary Blas Roca, knowing he needs their discipline and organisation but unable to admit it publicly. Cameron and Ray draw brilliant parallels between Castro's messianic arrival and Elvis Presley's Vegas comeback — both men defying expectations, both arriving in a blaze of spectacle after years in the wilderness — and ask the big question: can a revolutionary actually become a ruler?

It’s April 1958, and Cuba is a powder keg with a sputtering fuse. Fulgencio Batista is bleeding support from every direction — the church, the business elite, even his American backers — while Fidel Castro’s rebel movement is growing stronger in the Sierra Maestra mountains.