She chuckled.
“Extract the pertinent points and satellite it to Lunsford.”
“Right away. Would you like some coffee?”
“Is there any chocolate milk?”
“Coming right up.”
[ FOUR ]
The Hotel du Lac
Costermansville, Kivu Province
Republic of the Congo
2215 22 April 1965
Specialist Five Charles K. Anderson, who was drawing extra proficiency pay for being both an Army Security Agency high-speed intercept operator and an ASA ultrahigh-frequency radio communications technician, and who was wearing the uniform of a lieutenant of Congolese paratroops, did not look much like the popular image of a paratroop officer, Congolese or any other kind.
He was five feet five inches tall, two months past his nineteenth birthday, and weighed 165 pounds. Among his peers he was known variously as “Tubby,” “Fatso,” and “Lumpy,” and was privately thought of by Major George Washington Lunsford as “the fat kid from East Saint Louis.”
Lunsford had been genuinely concerned—for the purposes of Operation Earnest, he really needed the fat kid’s technical skills, and for the fat kid himself—when Anderson had shown up, displaying a wide array of white teeth for the irregular course in parachute jumping conducted at Camp Mackall.
Lunsford was absolutely convinced that Anderson could never have made it through the first week—much less the whole parachute course—at Fort Benning, but he had made it through the one at Camp Mackall.
And now he took great pride in being a paratrooper. He had confessed to Doubting Thomas that he could hardly wait to get back to East Saint Louis wearing his wings and Corcoran jump boots.
Anderson found Major Lunsford/Lieutenant Colonel Dahdi sitting at a table with Master Sergeant Thomas/Major Tomas, and the two white officer pilots and their wives on the hotel patio overlooking the lake. Lunsford and Thomas and the wives were drinking beer. The two pilots were drinking lemonade.
Anderson marched up to Lunsford, came to attention, saluted crisply, and announced:
“Just off the satellite, sir.”
Lunsford—who was not particularly fond of saluting—returned the salute with parade-ground precision.
“Stand at ease,” Lunsford ordered, and reached for the sheet of paper. He read it, then handed it to Geoff Craig.
OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE
TOP SECRET
EARS 0007 2140 ZULU 22 APRIL 1965
VIA WHITE HOUSE SIGNAL AGENCY
FROM: EARS SIX
TO: HELPER SIX
1-FOLLOWING RECEIVED LANDLINE 2105 ZULU 22 APRIL 1965 QUOTED VERBATIM
BEGIN QUOTE
TRANSMIT OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE FOR BAREFOOT
BOY FROM KATHARINE HEPBURN START IF YOU HAD
SHOES WE COULD TAKE A MIDNIGHT DINNER
CRUISE TONIGHT WITH DESI ARNAZ AND HIS
FRIENDS. BEST WISHES END
END QUOTE
EARS SIX
TOP SECRET
“Anderson,” Lunsford ordered. “Search out Colonel Supo, present my compliments, and ask the colonel if he would be good enough to join me.”
Anderson popped back to attention, said “yes, sir,” saluted, waited for Lunsford to return it, did what he thought was a perfect about-face movement, and marched off the patio.
“Thomas,” Lunsford said. “You know what’s faster than a corporal going to his first noncom’s call?”
“I’ll bet you’re going to tell me,” Thomas said.
“A brand-new paratrooper looking for somebody to show how tough he is,” Lunsford said.
“That’s not nice, Father,” Marjorie Bellmon said. “He’s a nice kid.”
“I know,” Lunsford said. “That’s why I don’t want him trying to stomp somebody; he’d lose. Have a word with him, Sergeant Thomas.”
Thomas chuckled.
“He went to Coizi,” Thomas said. “Asked him, the next time the Congolese jump, could he jump with them.”
“No goddamn way! I don’t want him breaking a leg, or worse. You have a word with him.”
“I already did.”
“Then have another one,” Lunsford said. “You have the map in your pocket?”
Thomas dug for it.
“Can I see that?” Marjorie asked her husband, to whom Geoff Craig had passed the message.
“Ask the boss,” Jack said.
“Why not?” Lunsford said.
Jack passed it to Marjorie, who read it and passed it to Ursula.
“What’s this Barefoot Boy/Katharine Hepburn business?” Marjorie asked. “What’s it all about?”
“It was love at first sight,” Jack said. “You could hear the violins playing, and our beloved commander was drooling all over the consulate floor.” He chuckled, and added, “All over his bare feet.”
“Goddamn you!” Lunsford said, but more in surprise—Gee, did I act that way?—than in anger.
“Who is she?”
“Ostensibly, the CIA station chief’s secretary in Dar es Salaam,” Jack said.
“And actually?” Marjorie asked.
“The CIA station chief,” Jack said.
“Well, so much for keeping that little secret,” Father said. “I hate to stop this delightful chitchat, but . . . I read that to mean Guevara and the others are taking boats at midnight from Kigoma. Am I right?”
“It looks to me as if she has somebody in Kigoma,” Jack said. “Maybe she even went there. It said ’landline.’ ”
“Thomas?”
“That’s how I read it,” Thomas replied.
“Geoff?”
“Yeah. That’s how I would read it.”
“We’re all set up at the field and the outposts?”
“The bad news there is that there’s sometimes morning fog,” Jack said. “Which maybe Guevara knows about, and is counting on to keep him invisible.”
“ ‘Take not counsel of your fears,’ ” Lunsford quoted. “General George S. Patton. The question was ‘we’re all set up at the field and the outposts?’ ”
“Aunt Jemima is at Item,” Craig said. “You want me to run this by you again, right?”
Lunsford nodded.
“Aunt Jemima is at Item,” Craig repeated. “He’ll fly up the middle from there. I’ll fly down the middle from here. Jack will fly back and forth in a fifteen-mile pattern on the middle right out from Kigoma.”
“Keep in mind that middle you keep talking about is the border of Tanganyika. We can’t cross it.”
Jack and Geoff nodded.
Colonel Jean-Baptiste Supo, trailed by Lieutenant Colonel Henri Coizi and Major Alain George Totse, came out of the hotel.
All the American men stood up. Supo and Totse kissed the hands of the women.
“Please be seated,” Supo said.
Everyone sat down.
“We have some word, I gather?” Supo said.
“We have reliable information that they will take boats from Kigoma at midnight, sir,” Lunsford said. He did not show him the satellite message,
“The question then is where will they land?” Supo replied.
“If we can find them on the water, we can follow them,” Lunsford said.
“There is sometimes morning fog in the area,” Supo said.
Lunsford flashed a look at Jack.
“Let’s have the map, please, Thomas,” Lunsford said.
When the beer and lemonade glasses had been pushed aside, and the map laid in place, Major Totse stood over it.
“My colonel,” he said. “This is what Colonel Dahdi and I propose for your approval. Now that we know when the boats will leave Kigoma, things are made somewhat more simple for us.
“Colonel Dahdi and I have made the following assumptions. The boats they will use will be small launches, for any number of reasons, starting with availability, and the probability that they are going to have to land on the shore. For planning purposes, we believe there will be two launches. Launches
have a top speed, depending on water conditions, of fifteen knots.
“It is approximately thirty-five miles across Lake Tanganyika from Kigoma. So the absolute minimum travel time would be just a little over two hours. We further presume that they will wish to make the journey in darkness, which means, given sunrise at 0605 tomorrow, they can travel no farther, under optimum conditions, than six hours at fifteen miles per hour, or ninety miles. They have to consider that for any number of reasons— primarily their detection—they may have to return to Tanganyika. That reduces their practical area of operation to a forty-five-mile arc from Kigoma.
“That arc would extend from Kalamba in the north to Kunanwa in the south. While there are no truck-capable roads in the bush between Kalamba and Kunanwa and National Route Five, there are paths, and both villages are closer to Route Five than any other village with paths in between.
“Colonel Dahdi and I have therefore concluded the launches will have either—or perhaps both—villages as their destination. I have therefore ordered reaction forces to move near both villages on Route Five. They will have orders not to engage, simply to observe.
“To ensure compliance with that order, we recommend that Colonel Coizi command the reaction force at Kunanwa and Major Tomas command—excuse me, advise—the reaction force at Kalamba. The Kalamba reaction force was used at Outpost George, and the men are aware of the confidence Colonel Coizi places in Major Tomas.”
He paused.
“That’s about it, sir,” he said.
“The only question I have is the aircraft; they will be operating at night.” He looked at Jack Portet. “You can land for refueling, et cetera, at night on those primitive strips?”
“We have radio communication with them, Colonel,” Jack said. “When we call, they will send a radio signal, on which we can home, and when we are close, they will light the field.”
“How?” Supo asked.
“There will be sand-filled tomato cans, soaked in gasoline, marking the runways,” Jack explained. “And, at one end or the other, depending on the wind, a truck will be parked with its headlights on. The pilot will land just past the truck.”
“Is this a Special Forces technique, or something you learned when you were flying here?”
“A little of both, sir.”
“And you think you will be able to see small launches on Lake Tanganyika at night?”
“I think so, sir. And we’re going to take observers with us— give us two pair of eyes.”
“And the Guevara party will not be aware they are under observation? ”
“The aircraft are painted flat black, as you know, sir. They will be hard to spot at night.”
“But the sound of the engines, certainly?”
“I doubt if they will be able to hear the engines over the noise of the engines in the launches, sir, and even if they could, it’s very difficult to determine the position of an aircraft by sound.”
Supo grunted.
“What I am thinking, gentlemen,” Supo said, “is that if it were not for you, there is absolutely no way we could have detected the infiltration of this force into the Congo.”
“Have we your permission to proceed, sir?” Lunsford asked.
Supo nodded.
“You will stay here, Colonel?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good hunting, gentlemen,” Supo said.
“There is one thing, Jack,” Lunsford said.
“Sir?”
“Have you picked your observer?”
“Everybody wants to go,” Jack said. “I thought I’d have them draw straws.”
“Would you have any problems with Anderson?”
Jack considered it a moment.
“No,” he said. “Why not?”
“I’ll have him waiting in the lobby for you,” Father said. “Will you excuse me, sir?”
“You’ll be coming back?”
“I just want to tell Spec5—Lieutenant Fatso—that he can go with Lieutenant Portet.”
“Why are you smiling, Anderson?” Major Lunsford asked.
“Well, sir, I know most of the guys in the WHSA. The one we got from Ears and this one are really going to blow their minds, trying to figure out what’s being said.”
“What’s being said is none of their business, Anderson,” Lunsford said. “And nobody here’s business, either. You read me?”
“Five by five, sir.”
OPERATIONAL IMMEDIATE
TOP SECRET
EARS 0007 2205 ZULU 22 APRIL 1965
VIA WHITE HOUSE SIGNAL AGENCY
FROM: HELPER SIX
TO: EARS SIX
1. REFERENCE YOUR 0007
2. AS SOON AS FEASIBLE TRANSMIT FOLLOWING VERBATIM TO KATHARINE HEPBURN
START MANY THANKS I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO OUR MIDNIGHT DINNER WITHOUT DESI ARNAZ AND HIS FRIENDS SOMETIME SOON BAREFOOT BOY
END
HELPER SIX
TOP SECRET
[ FIVE ]
4 Degrees 47 Minutes 37 Seconds South Latitude
29 Degrees 3 Minutes 09 Seconds East Longitude
3,000 Feet Above Lake Tanganyika
0305 23 April 1965
“Hey, Lieutenant!” Spec5 Anderson cried excitedly, “there’s a couple of boats down there!”
“Can you be a little more specific, Fatso?” Jack asked.
“Out the right side,” Anderson replied. “A little bit behind the wing.”
“The way we say that, Fatso,” Jack said as he put the L-19 into a shallow turn to the left, “is ‘possible sighting at 4:30.’ Imagine a clock.”
“Yes, sir,” Spec5 Anderson said, chagrined.
“Specialist Anderson,” Jack said a moment later, “I think you have just won first prize in the Find-The-Floating-Bastards Contest. The prizes are both a cement bicycle and an all-expenses-paid visit to the whorehouse of your choice in downtown Costermansville.”
“You think that’s them, Lieutenant?”
“Well, who else do you think would be headed across Lake Tanganyika at three-oh-five in the morning without running lights?”
“Jesus!” Anderson said.
“Get on the horn, Anderson, and call Helper Base. Say we have two unidentified launches just across the border on a straight-line course toward Kay One; estimate distance to Kay One fifty klicks.”
“Yes, sir,” Spec5 Anderson said.
[ SIX ]
4 Degrees 50 Minutes 57 Seconds South Latitude
29 Degrees 17 Minutes 40 Seconds East Longitude
(4 Miles East of Kalamba, Kivu Province, Congo)
0525 23 April 1965
“Hunter One, Birddog One.”
“Go.”
“They just turned north, toward shore, and are slowing down. I guess maybe seven, eight klicks West of Kay One. They are maybe a klick and a half from shore.”
“Understand seven, eight klicks west, klick and a half from shore.”
“You got it.”
“Maybe you better haul ass; it’s getting light. We don’t want them to see you.”
“I’ll go up a little, and south. Let me know when you see them.”
“They have some friends here.”
“Interesting. Watch yourself.”
“Birddog One, Hunter One.”
“Go.”
“I can’t see them, but I can hear them. They’re coming right at us.”
“Okay. We’re gone. Birddog One clear.”
Master Sergeant William Thomas had taken with him two night-vision devices. One looked much like an outsize set of binoculars, and, since it was too heavy to hold to the eyes, came with a folding tripod. A cable ran from the “binoculars” to a large battery pack that sat on the ground.
The other was mounted on a U.S. Springfield Caliber .30-06 Rifle, Model 1903A4, and looked something like an oversight telescopic sight. It, too, had a power cable, which ran to a battery pack equipped with web straps, much like a rucksack.
The rifle-mounted devi
ce was not a binocular, nor as powerful as the other device, but there was really no way Thomas could have hauled it aloft in the tree he had chosen to surveil the shore of Lake Tanganyika.
And the rifle-mounted device had performed better than he thought it would.
He had picked up the launches when they were almost one thousand yards from the beach, and as they drew closer, he could make out first the forms of men aboard them, and ultimately, as they reached the beach, even facial characteristics.
One of the sixteen men who debarked from the second launch had an unlit cigar in his mouth. He was bald and clean shaven.
Before he had completely waded ashore, a half-dozen men came out of the bush to greet him.
They embraced warmly.
The bald and clean-shaven man with the unlit cigar in his mouth, and one of the men who had come out of the bush, stood and watched the other men jump out of the launches into the shallow water, then begin to transport small packages and small arms from the launches to the shore.
The rifle-mounted light-intensifying sight had crosshairs. The rifle had been sighted at 150 yards.
Master Sergeant Thomas took a sight picture on the head of the bald, clean-shaven man with an unlit cigar in his mouth, and waited patiently, his finger on the trigger, until—as he knew he would—the bald, clean-shaven man with an unlit cigar in his mouth turned to look around, and he could center on the crosshairs on his nose.
He squeezed the trigger.
The firing pin extended into the empty chamber of the U.S. Springfield Caliber .30-06 Rifle, Model 1903A4. There was a metallic click.
“Got you, you Cuban cocksucker,” Master Sergeant Thomas said with great satisfaction in his voice, then started to climb down from the tree.
[ SEVEN ]
SECRET
HELP0025 1050 ZULU 23 APRIL 1965
VIA WHITE HOUSE SIGNAL AGENCY
FROM: HELPER SIX
TO: EARNEST SIX
AFTER ACTION REPORT #9
REFERENCE MAP BAKER 08
1. AT APPROXIMATELY 0600 ZULU 23 APRIL 1965 SIXTEEN (16) ARMED MEN LANDED SURREPTITIOUSLY FROM TWO LAUNCHES APPROXIMATELY FIVE (5) KILOMETERS WEST OF KALAMBA, KIVU PROVINCE, CONGO.
Special Ops Page 71
