“We often work with Special Forces,” Spec7 Peters explained with as much modesty as he could muster.
Craig and Lunsford exchanged glances but said nothing.
Geoff Craig had a flattering—from his perspective—thought: If that skinny little bastard—especially since he’s earned his jump wings—doesn’t get himself blown away over here, there’s no way he’s going back to the White House Signal Agency.
“Sir, what I don’t understand is what Special Forces is doing here now,” Matthews said. “Haven’t the Simbas been . . . broken up? Don’t the Congolese have the situation under control?”
“Well, if it wasn’t for Che Guevara thinking that the way to bring the joys of Communism to the rest of the world is by encouraging the savages here to eat some more white people’s livers, they would.”
“Ach, du lieber Gott, Vater,” Ursula protested, so unhappy and disturbed that she reverted to her native German.
“You’re not talking about the Cuban?” Captain Dugan asked incredulously. “The guy with the beard?”
Lunsford nodded.
“That’s hard to believe,” Dugan said.
“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Lunsford said. “Write that down.”
“My God, you’re serious,” Matthews said.
“Ernesto Guevara de la Serna, M.D.—who naively thinks we don’t know—is at this very moment on a farm outside of Dar es Salaam, Tanganyika, preparing to lead his quote ‘forces of liberation’ unquote across Lake Tanganyika into the Congo,” Father said.
“He’s a doctor?” Lieutenant Matthews asked incredulously.
“I’ll be damned,” Captain Dugan said.
“We have an ASA intercept team on him,” Spec7 Peters said.
“So the question before you, Captain Dugan and Lieutenant Matthews, is do you want to stay here and help us stop the sonofabitch, at considerable risk to your skin, and no bands playing when you get home—if you get home—or do you want to get on the 707 when it goes back to the States tomorrow?”
“Sir, we volunteered for this assignment,” Matthews said.
“You just think you did,” Lunsford said. “You were recruited by Pappy Hodges, who could show the Virgin Mary how he’d marked his cards, then talk her into playing strip poker with him.”
“Father, that’s terrible!” Mrs. Craig said, but she was smiling.
“I don’t want anyone here who doesn’t want to be here,” Father said. “And I think anyone who would want to be here is certifiable. ”
Matthews and Dugan looked at each other but said nothing. “Just to make sure you know what you might be letting yourself in for,” Lunsford said. “That coffin you saw us making at the field? We’re sending a damned good soldier home in it with Captain Portet. He was on an outpost; the Congolese soldiers with him got scared and took off. He stayed and fought, and lost, and after he was dead, I hope, they cut off his head.”
Captain James J. Dugan looked at Lieutenant Matthews, then at Lieutenant Craig.
He wet his lips.
“What time did you say we were taking off in the morning, Lieutenant?” he asked.
[ EIGHT ]
SECRET
Central Intelligence Agency Langley, Virginia
FROM: Assistant Director For Administration
FROM: 8 April 1965 2330 GMT
SUBJECT: Guevara, Ernesto (Memorandum #72.)
TO: Mr. Sanford T. Felter
Counselor To The President
Room 637, The Executive Office Building
Washington, D.C.
By Officer Courier
In compliance with Presidential Memorandum to The Director, Subject: “Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara,” dated 14 December 1964, the following information is being furnished:.
From CIA Dar es Salaam, Tanganyika (Reliability Scale Five):
1. In the last 96 hours thirty Negro males of military age bearing Cuban passports have arrived in Dar es Salaam, all on tourist visas issued by the Tanganyikan Embassy in Mexico City, Mexico. No names are available at this time.
2. They arrived variously, in groups no larger than six, aboard various commercial flights from Cairo, Egypt (3); Prague, Czechoslovakia (3); and Paris, France (2).
3. Immediately on arrival all were transported by car or light truck to the farm in the vicinity of Morogoro, where Guevara and Dreke are known to be.
4. It is the opinion of the undersigned that most, if not all, of the group will leave the farm within the next seven days and attempt to enter the Congo, probably by crossing Lake Tanganyika from Kigoma in the Western Province.
Howard W. O’Connor
HOWARD W. O’CONNOR
SECRET
XXII
[ ONE ]
5 Degrees 27 Minutes 08 Seconds South Latitude
29 Degrees 11 Minutes 19 Seconds East Longitude
(The Bush, Near Lake Tanganyika, Kivu Province, Congo)
0440 9 April 1965
Doubting Thomas was surprised, and at first annoyed, that Lieutenant Colonel Henri Coizi, Colonel Supo’s Chef de Cabinet, who had elected to personally command the reaction force, had also elected to personally command the reinforcement force of twenty shooters he had asked for.
Like most senior sergeants with something important to do, Master Sergeant Thomas believed the last thing needed to accomplish his mission was a goddamned lieutenant colonel to get in the way.
But at least the bastard’s leading the column on foot, Thomas thought when first he saw Colonel Coizi, not riding standing up in the jeep, like Patton.
He had then stepped out of the bush.
Here lies Master Sergeant William Thomas, who was shot in the middle of the jungle at oh dark hundred by a trigger-happy African.
“Hold fire!” Lieutenant Colonel Coizi barked in a command voice that would have made him perfectly at home on the parade grounds of Fort Bragg.
Thomas saluted crisply.
“Good morning, sir.”
Coizi returned the salute as crisply.
“Major,” he said.
“I expected the colonel a little earlier,” Thomas said politely.
Like maybe at ten o’clock last night.
“We moved up from Outpost George last night, but I thought it best to wait just out of range until light,” Coizi said. “I didn’t want to get past your position, for obvious reasons. And I thought sending a scout to find you and Sergeant First Jette would be a good way to lose a scout. And, of course, I have no radios.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.
“Where is Sergeant First Jette?”
“At our camp, sir. About a hundred meters into the bush.”
“And the Simbas?”
“About two klicks—two kilometers—down the path, sir. Jette and I reconnoitered last night. There’s about sixty of them, including some women.”
“Well, why don’t you and I go have a look? While we’re gone, Jette can brief my men.” He picked up on Thomas’s hesitation. “Unless you would prefer to brief the troops while Jette and I go to see what we’ll be facing?”
“Sir, what I would like to do, with your permission, is wait for the L-19 to drop batteries for your radios. I expect the aircraft at first light—right about now. And then, when we have your radios operating, you and I can have a look at the Simbas.”
“Of course,” Coizi said. “I should have thought of that. You’ll have to forgive me. I am not used to being supported by aviation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where are the batteries going to be dropped?”
“In the clearing, sir,” Thomas said, and pointed.
Coizi turned, called a name, and a Congolese officer walked quickly and silently up to him and saluted. He was young, very tall, and very black.
“Lieutenant Breque, do you know Major Tomas?”
“No, sir.”
Tomas and Breque shook hands.
“Establish a perimeter guard,” Coizi ordered. “We have what, four back radios?”
“My radioman can’t carry them all,” Coizi said. “Give me two strong men. I don’t want Major Tomas carrying his own radio.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send them to us,” Coizi ordered, pointing toward the bush. “Batteries will be dropped to us from one of the little airplanes very shortly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When they are, I will send Sergeant First Jette here to brief you and the men, and to test the radios. Major Tomas and I will then perform a reconnaissance.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You may go,” Coizi said.
Lieutenant Breque saluted and returned to the column of shooters.
“I think he will do,” Coizi said.
“Sir?”
“I promoted him yesterday—he was a sergeant—to replace the lieutenant who was responsible for our having no batteries,” Coizi said matter-of-factly. “I reduced him to the ranks. I probably should have had him shot.”
“Well, the problem is solved,” Thomas said.
“He’s not the soldier Jette is,” Coizi said. “I would have liked to have made Jette a sous-lieutenant, but Jette can’t read or write.”
“Yes, sir, I know.”
Almost at the moment Tomas, Coizi, and the two soldiers carrying the radios stepped into the clearing, they could hear the sound of an L-19 engine.
Tomas hurriedly popped a yellow smoke grenade.
Three minutes later, just as Thomas reached his radio lashed to the tree trunk and turned it on, a black L-19 flashed over. It disappeared, and came back a minute later, this time much lower.
A few seconds after that, there was a crashing sound in the branches above Doubting Thomas, and as he snapped his head upward, a padded canvas bag crashed though limbs toward him, stopping—when the canopy of its parachute encountered the upper branches of the tree—no more than three feet from where he had propped himself in the tree.
By the time he had detached the bag from the shroud lines of the small parachute, and before he could start to lower it to the ground, the sound of the L-19’s engine announced another pass, and this time, after it had flashed over again, the small cargo ’chute delivered its load to one side of the clearing, landing not far from where Lieutenant Colonel Coizi was standing.
“That had to be dumb luck,” Thomas said aloud.
He finished lowering the battery bag to the ground, waited until Jette had untied the cord, hauled it up, and then unlashed his radio and started to lower it to the ground.
By the time he got to the ground himself, Coizi’s radioman had already installed the batteries in one radio and Colonel Coizi was talking to the reaction force at Outpost George.
“That’s very interesting,” Coizi said to him when he was finished. “The other tracker, Sergeant First Nambibi, brought in two of the deserters at first light.”
“What’s going to happen to them?” Thomas asked.
“They’ll be hung as soon as we get back to Outpost George,” Coizi said, as if the question surprised him.
Thomas dropped to his knees by his backpack radio, switched it on, and picked up the microphone.
“Birddog, Hunter.”
“Go, Hunter.”
“We have both of them,” he announced.
“You sound surprised,” Geoff Craig’s voice responded.
“George is on the air,” Thomas asked. “Coizi’s been talking to them.”
“I heard,” Craig responded. “We went there first. What happens now?”
“The bad guys are about two klicks due east. Coizi and I are going there now. Can you hang around? If they run, I’d like to know in what direction.”
“I told you, Thomas, all I can see is treetops.”
“You might get lucky,” Thomas replied. “I’ll stay on this frequency. ”
“Give me a call when you’re ready,” Craig replied.
“Thank you, Hunter, out,” Thomas said.
He tried to pick up the radio and shrug into its harness, but one of the paratroops made it clear he was going to carry it for him.
Thomas gave in, although the idea of having the Congolese paratrooper carrying his radio made him nervous.
They took off on Withers when they thought they were in trouble. What are the chances I’m going to find myself alone out here, surrounded by cannibals, while the sergeant here lopes off into the bush carrying my radio?
He walked up to Lieutenant Colonel Coizi, who was standing with Sergeant First Jette.
“Anytime you’re ready, Colonel,” Thomas said. “With your permission, I’ll take the point.”
“And I will bring up the rear,” Coizi said.
“Yes, sir.”
“In the Force Publique, and now in the Armée Congolaise, I learned that when you order a commander to give you so many men, the men you get are the ones he thinks he can best spare,” Coizi said. “Is it thus in the Special Forces?”
“I think it was probably that way in the Roman Legions, Colonel,” Thomas said, smiling.
“Under those circumstances, I think it is wise that one of us bring up the rear, to make sure that if we start out with four people, we will have four people when we reach our objective. Do I make my point?”
“Yes, sir.”
Coizi motioned one of the radio bearers to him and relieved him of his automatic rifle. He examined it carefully, then charged the action and put the sling around his neck, which allowed him to carry the weapon with his hand near the trigger.
“You two follow Major Tomas,” he said. “I will bring up the rear.”
He gestured toward the bush.
“Whenever you are ready, Major Tomas,” he said.
Thomas checked both his Colt Car-16 and his .45 pistol to make sure they were loaded and on SAFE, then started back through the bush to the trail.
There had been no indication the previous night that establishing a perimeter guard was in the Simba field manual, and when they were what Thomas guessed was half a klick from their encampment, he waited for Colonel Coizi to catch up with him and told him so. He finished up:
“Last night, there was one man sleeping by the side of the trail, around the next curve. That was all. We just went around him, and the encampment itself was maybe four hundred meters from where he was.”
“I’ll have a look,” Coizi said. “There is really no reason for you to go. One man makes less noise than two.”
He handed Thomas his FN automatic rifle.
“I think it’s best that you keep this,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Coizi left the trail and entered the bush to the left. He was gone fifteen minutes, and came back through the bush so quietly that he startled Thomas.
“About half are still asleep,” he said. “I think we should move a little back down the trail, order my troops up, and wait for them, and then conduct our operation.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “Sir, may I ask what your plan is?”
“Of course,” Coizi said. He squatted, and swept the leaves and twigs clear from a two-foot-square area, revealing moist earth. He took a twig and drew a rough map of the area.
“Here’s the encampment, on both sides of the trail. I will send a half-dozen men to deploy the far side of it.”
He drew an arc facing away from the lake.
“I was thinking you and Sergeant First Jette might wish to do this. The rest of the force will be here.”
He drew another arc, longer and deeper.
“When the troops are in place, I will call for their surrender. That will not happen. I think their first reaction will be to retreat east, toward the lake. This force will (a) allow the women to pass; (b) shoot the men; and (c) ensure that the cattle do not remain in the Simbas’ hands.”
I don’t think, Thomas thought, that allowing the women to pass reflects some Congolese notion of chivalry toward the gentle sex.
“If I am correct, and their first reaction is to flee eastwar
d, when the first fire they receive is from the east, they will go in the other direction, most probably right down the path, where my force will take them under fire, which will probably send them back in an easterly direction, where, again, you will kill the men and allow the women to pass.”
“Sir, why are you going to allow the women to pass? As opposed to taking them prisoner?”
“If we take them prisoner, we will have to feed them,” Coizi said matter-of-factly. “And letting them ‘escape’ is the best way I know to spread the word quickly among other Simbas that when this group went on a cattle-stealing expedition, the Armée Congolaise found them, killed the men, and did not allow the cattle to fall into Simba hands.”
Ten minutes later, with the permission of Major Tomas, Sergeant First Jette selected the half-dozen shooters they would take with them to the far side of the Simba encampment.
His instructions to them were simple:
“You will follow Major Tomas. I will bring up the rear. I will shoot any man who fires his weapon before either Major Tomas fires his or I fire mine. And I will shoot any man I even suspect is thinking of going into the bush.”
Forty minutes after that, Thomas found a comfortable position behind a fallen tree and called Lieutenant Colonel Coizi to report they were in position.
“Very well,” Coizi replied.
Two minutes later, there was the sound of one, or perhaps two, automatic rifles being fired, and then silence. There was no way of telling whether the weapons were in the hands of Coizi’s men or the Simbas.
Two minutes after that, there was the sound of cattle moving, and shortly after that, two women appeared goading a milk cow down the path. More women and two other cows appeared shortly thereafter.
Thomas could see Jette, who had taken up a position much like his, prone behind a fallen tree thick enough and high enough to provide protection against rifle fire. When he looked now, Thomas saw that Jette was taking aim with his rifle, and he flicked the lever from SAFE to SINGLE SHOT and rested his left hand on the tree trunk as he waited for a suitable target to appear.
Two suitable targets appeared, male, armed Simbas, the second of them carrying a sword as well as an FN rifle.
Special Ops Page 69
