Café Wars

by David Lee Corley

  “Get out of the car,” said Brigitte running from the taxi. “Everyone run. There’s a bomb in the taxi,” shouted Brigitte to the pedestrians on the sidewalk.

  “Merde,” said the taxi driver seeing the explosives in the tea biscuit tin.

  He grabbed the door handle and swung the door open. He was stepping from the taxi when the bomb went off, killing him instantly.

  Brigitte was thrown to the ground from the explosion’s overpressure. Shrapnel flew everywhere as the taxi was blown to bits. Most of the pedestrians were running away from the taxi when the bomb exploded thanks to Brigitte’s warning. Only the taxi driver and an old woman were killed. Nine others were seriously wounded. Brigitte was lucky. She had run the right way. An iron trashcan sitting on the sidewalk by the curb shielded her from the shrapnel. Her only injuries were a scraped knee and a slight concussion. It made a great article for her magazine.

  FIFTEEN

  Aussaresses and his group of interrogators had done well with the prisoners taken by Bruno and his paratroopers. They were able to get several younger mujahideen to become informants within the larger group when they threatened to cut off their penises with a rusty pair of pruning shears. The pruning shears were actually quite dull and would have made a mess if the interrogators actually attempted what was threatened but the visual of the curved blade was enough to convince the young men that the French meant business.

  It was decided to allow the prisoners to gather as a group for their meals so they would talk more freely among themselves. One of the young informants overheard a mujahideen leader talking about his wife’s cousin who was part of another band of rebels. The cousin had participated in several successful raids along the eastern coast. The tales of the cousin that caught Aussaresses attention was a pet that the cousin kept back at the group’s base camp – a Barbary Macaque.

  The Barbary Macaque was a small ape that had almost been hunted into extinction by early European settlers. The surviving members of the species only existed in two forests both along the eastern coast of Algeria. The forests would be a natural hiding place for a mujahideen camp because the tree canopy would provide cover against French scout planes.

  The cousin was brought in for further interrogation, but he died when too much electricity was used, and his heart stopped. Torture was a tricky business.

  Aussaresses was confident enough in the information that he decided to share it with Bruno and suggested that he send in a reconnaissance team into each forest to determine the rebel camp’s location.

  Bruno also liked the information and decided on a more direct approach since a reconnaissance mission risked tipping off the mujahideen that the French were looking for them in the forests. The two forests were close to each other and only forty minutes apart by helicopter. Bruno would split his forces and search both at the same time. Reports from the coastal raids put the mujahideen force at no more than three hundred men, a force that the paratroopers could easily handle, even when split in two.

  The plan was to use the helicopters to drop two companies of paratroopers in one forest then return to the staging area, pick up two more companies and drop them in the second forest. Once both groups of paratroopers were in place they would proceed with their searches. The helicopters would stand ready to pick up one of the two groups of paratroopers if the enemy strength proved to be larger than expected and carry it over to the battlefield.

  Coyle would take off at the beginning of the search and fly in circles between the two forests. When one of the groups of paratroopers encountered the enemy, Coyle would drop two platoons behind the enemy’s line and cut off their escape, as he had done on the previous assault. The four Choctaw gunships would supply air to ground support if needed.

  Aussaresses suggested that he attach three of his interrogators to each of Bruno’s companies. Information was most useful when it was fresh and actionable. Aussaresses knew that the mujahideen forces were planning several more raids on the coastal cities. He also knew that the mujahideen were getting help from collaborators in those cities; Muslims that would identify anyone that had sympathies toward the French. Those helping the French would be sorted out and executed by the mujahideen – or worse. Like the French the mujahideen were very effective at torture, although their methods were antiquated and often involved flaying the prisoner’s skin.

  Bruno was hesitant. It was one thing for Bruno to turn over his prisoners. That was part of war. What happened to the prisoners after his men had turned them over was up to the commanding general. It was not Bruno’s concern. Bruno did not agree with Aussaresses’ method and was concerned about the effect it would have on his men if Aussaresses’ interrogators were allowed to exact information in the field. At the same time Bruno realized that he and his men had greatly benefited from Aussaresses’ intel. The major was rarely wrong which was more than Bruno could say about the majority of intelligence officers he had encountered during his career. Bruno agreed to Aussaresses’ suggestion but asked that discretion be used if possible. Aussaresses smiled and said, “Of course.”

  Brigitte sat in the navigator’s chair behind Coyle in the cockpit. She was far from happy, and let Coyle know it several times during the flight. “This is insane. I have reported on three wars. I can take care of myself,” she said.

  “I know you can,” said Coyle. “But I can’t do my job properly while worrying about you. Besides it’s just for a couple of days until I can find a qualified bodyguard.”

  “What is a bodyguard going to do against a bomb?”

  “I don’t know. Shield you from the explosion I guess. Look you’ve been saying that we should spend more time together.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing you have every said.”

  “No. I’m pretty sure I’ve said something more stupid.”

  “I cannot get my work done while I’m flying around with you.”

  “Sure you can. You have sixty-three paratroopers in the cargo hold about to parachute into battle. What about a human interest story?”

  “Now you are telling me what to write?”

  “I ain’t telling you anything. I am merely making a suggestion.”

  “It was a stupid suggestion.”

  “I thought it was pretty good as suggestions go.”

  Brigitte considered for a moment and said, “All right. I’ll take you up on your suggestion.”

  “Really?”

  “Why not? Sitting behind you in the cockpit is just a waste of time,” said Brigitte getting up.

  Coyle was suspicious when Brigitte exited the cockpit. Brigitte could be convinced by a good argument but she didn’t usually give in that quickly. Coyle had to wear her down. He knew she still had a lot of fight in her and wondered what she had planned.

  Brigitte walked into the cargo hold and approached the crew chief. “The captain wants me to put on a parachute. He says we’re entering a war zone and I should be ready if we are hit by enemy fire.”

  “He’s expecting heavy enemy fire?” said the crew chief, alarmed.

  “I guess. What do I know? I’m just a woman.”

  The crew chief handed her a parachute. He was surprised when she slipped it on and attached all the straps correctly like a veteran paratrooper. Brigitte moved off and approached the paratrooper captain by the cargo hull’s back doorway. She knew him from Dien Bien Phu. He was a good man and an experienced warrior. “Captain, do you mind if I join you and your men?”

  “I would be honored, Brigitte,” said the captain. “But I am afraid it will be less eventful than Dien Bien Phu.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Brigitte.

  The captain motioned to the soldiers nearby to make room for Brigitte. She sat and waited. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her body and smiled to herself. It felt good to wear a parachute again. This was her true nature.

  Bruno dropped with the first two companies into a small valley ten miles from one forest. He didn’t want his prey to hear the sound of the helic
opters that terrified them. It was hot, and a long hike uphill before they entered the tree-line. Bruno was in excellent shape as were his men. Even with their thirty-five pound rucksacks and weapons they covered the distance in three hours.

  Once they reached the trees Bruno let his men rest for twenty minutes and eat a cold meal from their MREs. He did not want them fatigued if they crossed paths with the mujahideen.

  Bruno respected the mujahideen. What they lacked in training they made up for in courage and they could shoot well. Most mujahideen in Algeria had grown up in the countryside where hunting was a way of life. Guns and knives were a cultural tradition and every man was expected to be proficient at both.

  Bruno ordered his men to their feet and they moved deeper into the forest. He sent skirmishers out on both of his flanks and scouts far in front of his main force. He did not want to fall into an ambush. The trees on the gently sloping mountain were mostly oak with thick trunks and deep green leaves. Oaks provided excellent cover for snipers because their branches were strong and allowed a sniper to climb high into the treetops. There were many patches of brush that could hide machinegun nests or recoilless rifles. He remembered the effectiveness of the Viet Minh recoilless rifles against his troop at Dien Bien Phu. He had no desire to see that carnage again and ensured that his men keep a sharp eye out on the terrain they were approaching.

  Bruno’s paratroopers had learned to walk softly without making a lot of noise. They avoided small twigs that could snap and dried leaves that could crunch under boot. Two hundred men moved in two parallel lines stretched out across the mountainside like a fisherman’s trawling net.

  The forward scouts spotted the mujahideen camp as they climb over the top of a slope. The camp was in a tree-covered valley with a creek running through the center. The French scouts were well trained and quickly identified the location of the mujahideen lookout posts.

  The scouts reported back to Bruno. He formed a plan and radioed Coyle where to drop the additional paratroopers that would cut off the mujahideen’s escape. It was a fairly simple plan since the mujahideen only had two directions to travel if they wanted to avoid the French helicopter gunships. They would need to stick to the trees which ran along the creek from one end of the valley to the other. Bruno and his men would position themselves on one end of the valley and drive the mujahideen into Coyle’s paratroopers once they were in position.

  The sound of the creek helped mask the movements of Bruno’s men as they formed a crescent shaped line that started at the top of the hillside, stretched down through the valley, over the creek and up the opposite hill. He anchored the two ends of his line with his light machine gun squads. His mortar squads were placed on the back side of the mountain were they would be out of danger from enemy fire but close enough to hit any position in the valley. His snipers would take out the mujahideen lookouts and their gunshots would signal the beginning of the assault. Coyle would drop his paratroopers at the beginning of the battle. Bruno’s men would keep the mujahideen occupied while Coyle’s paratroopers regrouped and moved into position.

  Bruno gave the signal and four para-snipers fired their weapons in unison. It would have been a great embarrassment if any one of the snipers had needed to chamber another round to finish the job. They didn’t. Four bullets dropped all four mujahideen lookouts. Two of the lookouts fell from their perches in the trees. One fell but his boot caught in another branch and he hung upside down. The forth simply leaned his head against the tree trunk and died.

  The mortar and the machine guns were next to fire. The anti-personnel shells from the mortar exploded in the camp sending hot shrapnel everywhere and setting several tents on fire. The machine runs raked the mujahideen as they ran for their weapons. Twenty-two mujahideen were killed in the first minute of battle. Bruno’s troops fired too but he kept them in line formation rather than letting them charge as usual. He waited until the mujahideen lines formed. He was gaining more confidence in the Choctaws gunships abilities and wanted to give them clean lines to strafe the enemy. It worked. The mujahideen took heavy losses when the gunships unleashed their rockets, cannon and machine guns.

  In the sky above, Coyle flew over the opposite end of the valley and dropped the paratroopers in a clearing that he had spotted.

  Unknown to Coyle, Brigitte jumped with them. Her chute deployed as expected and she floated down. She landed with her knees bent and tumbled to the ground. She gathered her chute and placed it with the others to be retrieved at a later time. She moved up beside the captain along with the other troops. She had learned through experience to keep her mouth shut and listen. The paratroopers took their business very serious and did not have time to explain anything to a civilian. There would be time for questions later once the battle was finished and, God willing, the paratroopers had won the day.

  The paratroopers spread out across the mouth of the valley between the two mountain ridges. Their machineguns anchored the ends of their lines just as Bruno had done. Their job was simple. Wait and let the mujahideen come to them. It didn’t take long.

  The Choctaws strafed the mujahideen lines as planned, killing dozens. When their firing ceased, Bruno ordered his men to charge. The paratroopers were mostly running downhill. They moved quickly and methodically killing anyone in their path that did not immediately throw down their weapon and put their hands high into the air. Those that didn’t surrender broke and ran toward the opposite end of the valley and right into the line of paratroopers waiting for them.

  The entire battle lasted less than fifteen minutes. Over two hundred mujahideen were taken prisoner. The prisoners were brought back into the village where they were searched and tied with their hands behind their backs. Their weapons were stacked into a large pile. The camp was searched thoroughly and the tortured bodies of six French civilians were found. Aussaresses’ interrogators picked out several of the leaders and moved them to a grove of trees outside the camp. It was their way of being discreet as Bruno had requested.

  Brigitte entered the camp with the captain. “Little Bruno,” she said approaching Bruno and giving him a hug.

  “Brigitte what are doing here?” said Bruno.

  “It was Tom’s suggestion,” she said with a shrug. “I didn’t think you would mind. You don’t, do you?”

  “You shouldn’t be here, Brigitte.”

  The screams of those being interrogated could not be stifled by their interrogators. Bruno and his men were unsettled as were the rest of the prisoners. Brigitte was shocked. “What’s going on, Bruno?” said Brigitte staring in the direction of the screams.

  Bruno remained silent. “You can’t allow this, Bruno,” said Brigitte. “This is your command. This is your responsibility.”

  “You shouldn’t have come, Brigitte,” said Bruno turning and walking away.

  Tears welled up in Brigitte’s eyes as the screams continued.

  Bruno was ashamed. Brigitte was right and he knew it. It was his command and by letting it happen he was condoning it. He stood by a tree at the edge of the village.

  The mujahideen that had been taken prisoner were unnerved by the screams of their comrades. One of the prisoners, a young man, was able to wiggle out of the rope used to tie his hands. He decided that he would rather die fighting than be tortured. He jumped up and rushed one of the paratrooper guarding the prisoners. He grabbed for the soldier’s submachinegun and they struggled. The machine gun fired a burst before the paratrooper pried it free from the young mujahideen and hit him across the head knocking him out.

  Bruno had heard the scuffle and the gunshots. He turned to see what was going on and felt a twinge of pain. He looked down and saw the left side of his uniform turning red. He had been hit in the chest by one of the stray bullets. He wanted to say something but everything sounded silly to him. He collapsed to his knees and leaned back on the heels of his boots. He remained upright. The captain saw him and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Medic,” he yelled.

  Brigitte turned and s
aw Bruno kneeling on the ground with the blood stain that centered over his heart growing on his uniform. She screamed and ran to his side. She didn’t know what to do. There was so much blood. He wanted to say something that would make her laugh and stop crying. Something that would assure her that he was okay. He couldn’t think of anything so he smiled as he looked into her eyes and fell over. Brigitte wailed uncontrollably and pulled his head into her arms. The medic arrived, knelt down and pulled his shirt open. There was a bullet hole near his left nipple. Blood was pouring out the hole. The medic placed a large square of gauze over the wound and pressed down firmly. The gauze turned red and was saturated with blood in less than a minute. “We’ve got to get him to a hospital now,” said the medic.

  Bruno was carried in a rubber poncho by four of his paratroopers. Brigitte ran beside him. They loaded him into a waiting Choctaw in a forest clearing. Brigitte climbed in after him along with the medic. “Too much weight,” said the pilot. “One of you has to get out.”

  There was no discussion. Brigitte climbed out and the helicopter lifted off. She collapsed to the ground in tears as she watched the helicopter climb over the mountains and disappear.

  Bruno was lucky. The medic was an experienced veteran of two wars and had seen his share of chest wounds. Bruno’s was bad but to the medic’s surprise Bruno was still alive. He was strong and in excellent physical shape. The medic didn’t have much hope but he and the other doctors and nurses would do everything in their power to save him. Everyone knew of Bruno and the role he had played in the final battle at Dien Bien Phu in the Indochina War. It was bad form to let a hero die under your care.

  The helicopter landed at an airfield. Coyle’s C-119’s props were already turning. Bruno was transferred to the back of the plane where two nurses and a doctor were waiting in a makeshift triage center. It had been decided that the only chance Bruno had of living was to fly him to Paris where a team of heart surgeons were waiting.