by Steve Reeder
The door led to a passage. Across from that was a closed door. He tried the handle. It was open. He followed his weapon into the room but found that it empty. He moved quietly along the passage which led towards the main street and found himself in an entrance-hall. There was a large reception desk on a platform of a brick wall four feet high. It stood facing the open doorway. There was no sign of anyone and the front entrance was closed. On his left was a window set high up, facing the town’s main street. That too was closed. Venturing further into the foyer, he noticed the stairway leading to the upper floors. He hesitated, wondering if he should fetch Reece to join him. He dismissed the thought, starting up the stairs alone. He could hear no sound other than the hammering of his heart. Cautiously, he mounted the stairway, pausing at each step and testing it for loose tiles before taking his next step. After what seemed like a lifetime, he arrived at the top of the stairs. He stopped. All was quiet. Nervously, he checked to make sure he still had spare magazines for the weapon. He wiped the sweat from his hands. His breathing was laboured from tension and fear. To the left was the room where Reece had seen the three men. A sudden sound of laughter echoed down the passage. He looked to his right - there were two more doors, both closed. Creeping as quietly as he could on the wooden floor, he tried the first door. There was no one in the room. It was cluttered with plastic stools and tables, some missing at least a leg or two. The second door was locked. Before he could decide what to do, there was a shout from the room where the three men obviously were, followed by a series of thuds, more laughter and to Cole’s surprise a voice shouting, “Fok jou, jou swart hond, ek hoop jy vrot in die hel. Fokken kaffir!”
There were several shouts of anger and another series of slaps and thuds.
‘I guess that’s the RSM,’ Cole thought, grinning nervously. ‘No-one swears in Afrikaans like le Roux.’
Cole used the noise they were making as cover to move down the passage. Finally he stood outside the closed door. He wiped first one hand, and changing position of his weapon, wiped this other hand on his trousers. The moment he heard Le Roux scream again in pain, he launched himself into the room, rifle raised and ready to fire. Le Roux lay bound and bleeding in the centre of the room surrounded by three African men. Like those that had left in the Land Cruiser, all three were dressed in dark suits, white shirts and ties. They were not armed, although two pistols lay on the table by the far wall. Everyone, including Le Roux, turned and stared at Cole in surprise. One of the black men glanced at the pistols, but froze when Cole shifted the rifle’s aim to cover him. No-one spoke until Cole motioned them towards the right, away from the table and the window.
“Outro homem branco para brincar,” one of them said to his companions with a confident smile. Insult dripped heavily in his voice.
Cole edged closer and, without warning, slammed the steel butt of his weapon into the smiling Angolan’s face. He grunted in pain and collapsed. The other two moved quickly and stood against the wall. The fallen man got slowly to his feet, blood streaming down his face and, tottering from the effects of the rifle but, joined his companions standing against the wall.
“I will kill you for that,” the bloodied man said.
“I’m glad one of you speaks English because that’ll make things easier for all of us,” Cole replied. “Now get down onto your knees, all of you. Tell the others,” he shouted.
The bloodied man turned to the others, but instead of translating what Cole had said, he suddenly grabbed one of his companions by the arm, swinging him around towards Cole, who had to dodge the flailing man. The bloodied thug dived for the table. He came up with a pistol in his hand and fired twice before Cole managed to get a shot off, hitting the man squarely in the head. The other two were screaming at Cole. One produced a pistol from beneath his jacket. Cole fired twice at him, and without thinking, he then shot the third man as well. There was sudden silence. The smell of gunfire and blood filled the room.
Le Roux rolled onto his stomach. His face was a mess with one eye completely closed and his mouth bloody. Cole saw that Le Roux was missing all of his teeth on the right side of his face.
“Good man, Cole,” Le Roux said, his voice full of pain. “Now get these ropes off of me.”
Cole stood for a moment, still shocked by the carnage around him. All three Angolans lay dead, their bodies ripped apart by the high-velocity rounds.
“Cole!”
“Sorry, Sergeant-Major. I er . . . right . . . the ropes.” Swiftly he untied the older man. “Um, the Colonel and the Captain?”
“We were ambushed. They are both dead. Santos died at the meeting place and Fourie died shortly afterwards. He was shot to pieces. Come on, man, we must get away. There are lots more than just these three,” Le Roux said. “Where are the other men?”
Cole filled the RSM in as he followed the tough old soldier down the stairs into the foyer. As they arrived there was a burst of firing from Reece’s position followed by a dozen prolonged bursts in return. The shots were coming from outside the front entrance. Several big diesel engines roared down the street. As the firing stopped, two Angolan soldiers smashed open the front door, appearing in the doorway. Cole fired. One fell in a heap on the floor, while the other escaped back outside.
Le Roux dragged Cole behind the large reception desk. “Was that Reece?”
“Yes, he’s on the roof of the building next to us, on the right of the door.”
“That’s good. Reece is a good soldier,” the RSM muttered, more to himself than to Cole. “But there will be a fuck-load of them arriving soon. There’s a camp not far from here.” He looked at Cole. “I must tell you something, just in case I don’t make it out of here.”
Six
Reece shifted his position and fired again at four of the enemy: three of them sprang back behind the building and one fell down, but began to drag himself towards the cover of the building opposite the entrance. Reece let him go. Rolling away from the parapet, he crawled to the other end of the building. Down below he could see Pretorius running up the street, ducking from cover to cover. Reece whistled loudly and Pretorius looked up. As quickly as he could, Reece explained the situation.
“Where is Robbie?” Reece asked.
“Right behind you,” a voice said.
Reece swung around and found De Kock squatting besides him. “Bloody hell, Robbie, are you trying to scare me to death?”
“Sorry. What’s the situation, Sean?”
Once again Reece explained and then added, “I’m guessing that Charlie is trapped in the foyer, and I think I heard Le Roux’s voice too. I can’t be sure about the others though.” He paused to fire twice at a target that showed in the street below, missing both shots. “We need to get into that window there and help Charlie out of the building. I reckon that’s what those guys are trying to do; get into that window and come up behind Charlie.”
Two more trucks could be seen driving into town from the right.
“OK, I agree,” De Kock said. “And I think we’d better do it quickly before any more of them arrive.” He called out to Pretorius below. “Paul, keep them off this street if you can. We’re coming down.”
Pretorius gave him the thumbs-up and looked fiercely determined.
Barely a minute later De Kock and Reece joined Pretorius on the side street a block down and around the corner from the entrance. The window that Cole had climbed into was halfway along the block, and across the street. De Kock studied the street, tapping Reece on the back. Reece sprinted across the road, clamouring into the window where Cole had entered not long before. He made sure the room and the passage were clear of enemy combatants before going back to the window, indicating to the others. First De Kock, and then Pretorius, arrived and tumbled through the window.
“OK, Paul, you stay here and cover the street. We’re going to have to come back out this way and I need you to keep it clear,” De Kock told Pretorius. He turned to Reece. “You ready for this, Sean?”
Reece gri
nned back at him. “I can’t remember ever having so much fun.”
“In that case you can lead, you bloody madman.”
In the foyer Cole was breathing heavily with dread. He could hear the Angolan soldiers gathering outside. Several times he looked towards the passageway down which he had entered the building, but every time shots from the window in the front wall drove him back. He looked at the RSM nervously.
“Give me the rifle, Cole,” Le Roux demanded. “When they come in I’ll handle it. If you get the chance then run for it.” He wiped the sweat and blood from his battered face, swallowing hard. It made Cole more nervous to see the old soldier looking scared. “Here they come,” Le Roux warned. “Get ready.”
“What about you?” Cole asked.
“You never mind me, Cole. Just make sure that you get back and tell someone high up in Pretoria about what Colonel Fourie was doing here.”
Le Roux checked the weapon again and then surprised Cole by leaping out from behind the desk as the Angolans burst through the entrance, firing as they came in. Three of them fell to Le Roux’s rifle almost before they were inside. Le Roux was hit twice but continued firing as he went to one knee.
“Now, Cole, now!” Le Roux screamed.
Cole rolled out from behind the desk and scrambling to his feet made for the passageway. Almost immediately he felt the sting of an AK47 round as it burned his shoulder but ignored it. The sound of firing from Le Roux’s rifle stopped suddenly and Cole was still only halfway to the safety of the passage. Another round clipped his leg below his right knee, bringing him to the floor.(sentence change) He rolled onto his back and stared at the approaching black men. He knew that he was going to die now. One of them kicked his injured leg and raised his weapon, smiling all the time, and took careful aim at Cole’s forehead.
Robbie de Kock waited until Reece was thirty feet along the passage where he stopped in the partial cover of a doorway. De Kock advanced past him, rifle raised and his finger on the trigger, until he was just out of sight of the foyer. Once there he halted and waited while Reece came forward to join him. Almost as Reece arrived all hell broke loose from the foyer. Seven or eight were firing and a single R4 replied with several long bursts. Suddenly there was silence. The RSM was screaming at Cole. Reece peeped out into the foyer. Several soldiers lay dead or injured near the main entrance. The RSM’s body was face-down in the midst of them. Halfway to the desk, lying on the floor was Charlie Cole, surrounded by four Angolan soldiers. One of them kicked Cole and said something that Reece didn’t understand. However, the pointed rifle spoke volumes. Reece charged out of the passage, firing as he came. Behind him De Kock was firing controlled single shots. The surprise to the Angolans was complete. Two fell, bloodied and torn, to the floor. The other two turned and fled, neither of them reaching the exit before bullets ripped into them.
“Robbie! The windows - cover the windows,” Reece screamed.
Even as he shouted a hand-grenade sailed through the side window and De Kock caught it instinctively as it hit him in the chest. He hurriedly threw it back outside. There was a flash and a bang as it exploded, followed by a piecing scream of pain and terror.
Reece grabbed Cole and helped him to his feet. “You all right to run, Charlie?” he asked.
De Kock didn’t give Cole a chance to reply, grabbing the wounded man by the arm; he dragged him across the foyer and back down the passageway. Reece covered them, firing twice at fleeting targets as they showed themselves, before also running to the room that they had entered the building from. At the doorway he again covered the stretch of passage while Cole and De Kock climbed out the window. As soon as he heard the second set of feet land in the street he turned to follow, slamming the door behind him and diving out the window. He landed on his side in the street and the first thing he saw was Paul Pretorius’ lifeless body. Two rounds had smashed his face in. He lay crumpled against the side of the building.
“Reece! Come the fuck on!” De Kock screamed from across the street.
Reece picked up Pretorius’ rifle and two spare magazines before he scrambled to his feet, running as hard as he had ever done for the cover of the building. De Kock was firing at targets behind him. Reece felt the sonic whip of a round as it passed his ear and saw the bullet take a chunk out of the wall that he was running towards. Two more smashed into the wall before Reece rounded the corner, gasping for breath. Cole took the second weapon from Reece. He was half a block away in no time, hobbling as quickly as he could on his injured leg.
“Go,” Reece told De Kock. “I’ll cover you till you can get behind the next building. Watch out for anyone coming down from the side streets.”
De Kock didn’t waste any time replying before making a run for the end of the building. He caught up to Cole as he got there and they both took up firing positions.
“I’m down to my last magazine,” Cole said. “You got any spare?”
De Kock handed him one of his last two remaining full magazines of ammunition.
Reece was running flat-out towards them. Two targets showed and Cole fired. One of the Angolans collapsed to the road and lay still, while the other sprang back into cover. Reece reached their position. There was only one more building before the edge of town.
“You do realise that they are probably out-flanking us by now, don’t you?” Cole commented breathlessly.
“Maybe,” Reece replied, also gasping for breath, “We’ll just have to hope Uys is up to deterring them with that machine-gun of his.” He looked at his companions and grinned, “You ready?”
Cole hobbled off as the other two fired selectively back up the street. Once the injured man had reached the cover of the last building, Reece made a run for it while De Kock covered him. Cole immediately started for the gully, knowing that he would only hold the other two up. Reece flung himself prone on the broken sidewalk, opened the bipods of the R4 and took careful aim, thankful that the R4 was so much more accurate at this distance than the AK47s that the enemy had. He fired three shots at an Angolan who showed himself and then De Kock was sprinting towards him. Four more of the enemy were suddenly firing. De Kock dived past Reece and rolled behind the building, gasping for air. Reece was on his feet immediately, sprinting for the gully. Behind him, men were firing and rather worryingly, there came the sound of a big calibre machine-gun from the other end of town. Reece slid the last ten feet and dropped into the gully. Cole had already taken up a firing position. Now De Kock was running. Reece could see how hard he was breathing, his face contorted and red with exertion. He was twenty feet from the comparative safety of the gully when he staggered and fell, dropping his weapon. Cole and Reece both fired at the same target and saw one of the chasing Angolans topple headfirst onto the dusty street. De Kock rolled over and crawled awkwardly to the side of the gully where he fell in. Cole reached out and grabbed the rifle, pulling in.
“I’m hit, guys,” De Kock said. “Somewhere in my back I think.”
Reece fired a series of shots at targets he could only guess at before kneeling down besides De Kock. “Charlie, why don’t you get moving? I’ll help Robbie. Wait for us above where Uys is positioned, but on the road.”
Cole looked uncertainly at the two of them but finally nodded. “I expect to see both of you up on the hill, okay?” He hesitated and then hobbled off up the gully.
“Have we heard anything from Eric?” De Kock asked Reece.
“Not a shot. But maybe that’s a good thing,” Reece replied, pulling De Kock’s shirt up. “With any luck he’ll surprise the Angolans and scare the shit out of them if they follow us up the hill.” He studied Robbie de Kock’s back for a moment and dropped the shirt. “You’ll be fine,” he told Robbie.
“What you mean, I’ll be fine? I’ve been shot in the back!”
Reece popped his head above the rim of the gully and fired two short bursts. “The bastards are getting brave. Three of them were stalking us. One of them is running like hell for the edge of town now.” He looke
d down at De Kock. “The bullet hit your webbing belt, but hasn’t gone through it. I’d guess that it was fired from too far away. You are going to have a hell of a bruise though.” He fired twice more as De Kock levered himself off the ground. “Why don’t you start moving? How about fifty metres each?”
De Kock agreed and jogged back up the gully for roughly fifty metres before finding a spot to fire from. He fired two single rounds at the nearest building although no targets showed. As Reece jogged past him De Kock said, “I can see a whole bunch of them gathering near the middle of town.”
