Chris Lawler 'One Of A Kind'

CHAPTER EIGHT

  ANGOLA

  Back in London Chris was taking a breath of fresh air and wondering in what direction his future was going to lead him. Too assist him he picked up a daily newspaper to see what work was available in the area. Eventually deciding to take up something local, and not so complicated. After he had finished going through the employment column. While folding up the paper he could not help glancing at the headline. It read ‘The Angolan War of Independence’. Apparently it had begun way back during 1961 as an uprising against forced cotton harvesting, and became a multi-faction struggle by 11 different separatist movements, for control of Portugal's Overseas Province of Angola.

  Essentially a power struggle had developed between two former liberation movements, the People's Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MPLA) and the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola (UNITA). (Earlier known as EPLA). Many of their first cadres had received training in Morocco and Algeria.

  During one of its early operations that took place in January 1962, the EPLA attacked a Portuguese military post in Cabinda, killing a number of troops.

  During the mid-1960s and early 1970s, the EPLA operated very successfully from bases in Zambia against the Portuguese in eastern Angola.

  After 1972 the EPLA's effectiveness declined following several Portuguese victory disputes with the National Front for the Liberation of Angola (FNLA) forces, and the movement of about 800 guerrillas from Zambia to the Republic of Congo.

  It was essentially a guerrilla war in which the Portuguese Armed Forces successfully fought against several independent groups dispersed by some sparsely populated areas of the vast Portuguese administered Angolan countryside. All forces involved in the conflict committed several atrocities.

  On the 1st August 1974 a few months after a military coup d'etat had overthrown the Lisbon regime and proclaimed its intention of granting independence to Angola. The MPLA announced the formation of the Forças Armadas Populares de Libertaçao de Angola (FAPLA), which replaced the EPLA. The war ended in 1975 when the Angolan government, UNITA, the MPLA, and the FNLA all signed the Alvor Agreement, after a leftist military coup back in Lisbon during April 1974, which overthrew Portugal's Estado Novo regime.

  On the eve of Angola's independence during November 1975, Cuba launched a large-scale military intervention to defend the leftist liberation movement MPLA from a United States backed invasions by South Africa and Zaire in support of two other liberation movements competing for power in the country, the FNLA and UNITA. Following the retreat of Zaire and South Africa from Angola, the Cuban forces remained in the country to support the MPLA Government against the UNITA insurgency in the continuing Angolan Civil War.

  Suddenly the planning and thought of an ordinary local job was wiped completely from his line of thought, after watching the evening television news. One section was completely devoted to the military problems arising in Angola. Towards the end it mentioning that an Ex-British serviceman was recruiting an English group of Mercenaries to go and fight for the National Front for the Liberation of Angola (FNLA) against the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola (MPLA) in the civil war that had broken out after Angola gained its independence from Portugal in late 1975.

  Chris wasted no time in writing a letter to the television company asking for the address of the recruiter. A week later they answered and he wasted no time in sending a letter asking for an application form. It was addressed to Rose Lane in Norwich, Norfolk. Now it was just a matter of sitting around awaiting an answer. Although knowing that the post was not crash hot, he was expecting to wait another ten days. Only hoping that the troubles in Angola were not over before he could get his foot in the door. However, it did give him a little time to kill and he used it to start digging around for more information on what was going on in Angola.

  One morning he had to visit his doctor about a sore on his arm, and while in the waiting room, as is usual for most people who visit their doctor, he picked up a magazine for a read. Just a few pages in he came across an article that mentioned Angola.

  It went on to mention that Saigon had just fallen during the spring 1975. With the last of the Americans fleeing to get out of the country before they were captured. Something that could have probably led to their execution, a horrible fate that actually happened to many American sympathisers that were left behind.

  While at the same time the fallout from Watergate was still hanging heavy over the United States. The Pike Committee of the House of Representatives was investigating the CIA’s foreign covert activities. While on the Senate side, the Church Committee was doing the same, and the Rockefeller Commission had set about investigating the Agency's domestic activities. The American morning newspapers brought fresh miss deeds and revelations about the CIA and FBI. While the CIA and its influential supporters, warned that disclosures would inhibit the Agency from carrying out the functions necessary for the U.S. National Security.

  While at the CIA headquarters in Langley Virginia, they were busy preparing for their next secret adventure, that of Angola. To set up a military operation at such a moment in time, that the reasons one would imagine, must have been both compelling and very urgent. Yet, in the long history of American interventions around the world it would be hard to find one more pointless, with less to gain for the United States or the foreign country involved.

  The United States was not normally in the business of supporting liberation movements. Decided that inasmuch as Portugal would probably be unable to hold on to its colony forever, establishing contact with a possible successor regime might prove more beneficial. For reasons lost in the mists of history. The United States, or at least someone in the CIA, decided that Robert Roberto was their man, and around 1961 or 1962 placed him onto the Agency’s payroll.

  At the same time, and during the ensuing years, Washington provided their NATO ally, the Salazar dictatorship in Lisbon, with the military aid and counter insurgency training needed to suppress the rebellion. A bit like having a bet on both sides.

  The Soviet Union, which had also given some support to Reberto, embraced Antonio Agostinho Neto instead during 1964. Arguing that Roberto had helped the discredited Moise Tshombe in the Congo, and curtailed his own guerrilla operations in Angola under pressure from Washington. Before long another movement, UNITA by name, entered the picture and China dealt itself into the Great Powers Poker Game, lending support to UNITA and FNLA.

  That the CIA's choosing of its ally was largely an arbitrary process was further underlined by a State Department cable to its African Embassies in 1963 which stated, ‘U.S. policy is not, repeat not, to discourage MPLA too move toward the West and not to choose between these two movements.

  Even in 1975, when the head of the CIA William Colby, was asked by a congressional committee what the differences were between the three contesting factions, he responded: “They are all independents. They are all for black Africa. They are all for some fuzzy kind of social system, you know, without really much articulation, but some sort of let's not be exploited by the capitalist nations”.

  When asked why the Chinese were backing the FNLA or UNITA, he stated: “Because the Soviets are backing the MPLA is the simplest answer." "It sounds," said Congressman Aspin, "like that is why we are doing it." "It is," replied Colby. Nonetheless, the committee in its later report, asserted that in view of Colby's statement, "The U.S.'s expressed opposition to the MPLA is puzzling". It must also be noted that the Portuguese as communists and terrorists denounced all three groups.

  After finishing the article Chris came to the quick conclusion that with the major countries of the world getting involved. There was going to be a lot of money spread around all the groups fighting each other, money that he would like to tap into and be a recipient. A slight grin appeared on his face as he remembered what the troops in Vietnam had nicked named the CIA, ‘Christians in Action’. The name suited them well.

  Carefully, and in the hoped he was not being watched, he folded the
magazine and placed it into his inside jacket pocket. Realising that it would be worth another read later in the confides and comfort of his flat.

  Finally, the wait for his application form was over, when eight days later the letter was delivered to his lodgings, and dropped on the mat by the front door. Wasting no time, he immediately set about filling it out, and was surprised at the lack of information required. Basically only wanting to know the Military units he had served in and for what period of time. Along with the usual, his name, address and next of kin. It was so basic that, as long as you had set foot in a military garrison somewhere, you would probably qualify. Posting the application form back to Norwich was completed and on its way within two hours. It was then another case of once again waiting for the reply.

  While un-known to Chris, the wheels had been turning by the recruiters, having already signed up twenty-five supposed ex-military recruits. They were all sent £10 for expenses and instructed to assemble at noon the following day in the ‘Tower Hotel’ in London. Where they were booked in as a group under the title of the ‘Norfolk Ping Pong Club’, while a flight to Brussels had already been booked for the team.

  The arrangements and gathering had taken place so quickly that several of the recruits did not even have passports. Helping in the background the British Government sent a message to the Immigration Department allowing all to fly out. Thus proving that they were also deeply involved in what was happening in Angola, and wanting to have a presence in the area. Something they denied vehemently at the time.

  Although the team tried to keep a very low profile, one of the Sunday Newspapers came out with a story titled ‘Jailed Soldier Recruits Mercenaries’ The article named some of the team, and had dug up some dirt on one of the organisers. That included a two-year jail sentence served. Apparently earlier in his career he had been caught selling arms to the Ulster Loyalists. It also gave a very accurate account of how the 25 had been recruited. By now the term Mercenary was openly being used. The story went on to mention that some of the members got cold feet, and pulled out at the last moment. Leaving the organisers to find replacements at very short notice. Although unknown to the organisers a couple of the replacements were secretly working for Mi6. As they wanted someone on the ground to report on what was actually happening in Angola.

  Eventual the twenty-five-man team flew out to Brussels, where once again travel documents were awaiting to allow the team to transfer to another flight to Kinshasa in Zaire. Upon their arrival they knew that the government would ferry them to the battlefront in Angola.

  Where they met up with their Commanding officer, who later was to show his true colours, that of a psychopathic killer. Also unknown to all was that he had never been an Officer, or led troops before. He had also promoted himself to the rank of Colonel. However, during those first few days he had led the Mercs in action against the Cuban forces with distinguish success.

  By now the recruiters back in the UK were gathering a second group of recruits together, so that they could follow the earlier group.

  Stories of their exploits were starting to appear in most of the daily newspapers, leaving Chris feeling very disappointed that so far nobody had made contact with him about his application form. The way in which the Mercenary exploits were being told, made it seem like the action was not going to last very long. Leading to him believing that his services may not be required after all.

  Then as if to rub salt into the wound, one daily newspaper published a photo of the second group on board a bus arriving at the airport. That hurt Chris, wondering if he was wasting his time.

  However, the very next day Chris took a phone call from a person calling himself Fred, and telling him that his application had been accepted. It did not take long for Chris to make a note of the arrangement detail, and what he might like to take with him. They would provide all military equipment when he arrived in Zaire. Once again the meeting would be at the Tower Hotel, by the end of the week.

  It was now late January and Chris had finally become a member of the next group of Mercenaries to leave for Angola. Although not realising it at the time, it would also be the last group to leave the country.

  Upon arrival in Kinshasa and leaving the plane via a gangway to the ground, the first thing that hit them was the stifling heat, catching many of them off their guard. Within minutes they were all sweating profusely, and many wondering what it would be like when they were all kitted up. After all many of them were only in shirtsleeves and jeans, having already ditched thick jackets and raincoats.

  An FLNA supporter with a large note pad under his arm led the group to an old Military building on the edge of the airfield. Where they were kitted out for the overland trip in to Angola on board two three-ton trucks. After which they hoped to join up with the other British Mercs, who had arrived earlier in the month. The leaders were hoping to hold back the Cubans hard pushed advance coming towards them. Unfortunately, the note pad carrier did not correctly inform them of the situation and conditions that awaited them. Leaving all to believe that they were soon to be part of the winning side.

  At first the roads through the city were covered with asphalt and the ride was comfortable, plus there were many places of interest to help pass the time. The first part of the journey was to take them over the border of Zaire into Angola. There was no actual border crossing point with a building, as it had long since been deserted and left un-protected. However, once they had crossed over and were heading into Angola the road conditions suddenly changed dramatically and for the worse. As the asphalt was sparse and even disappeared in many places, to be replaced by twisting winding dirt tracks. However, the drive was to take them several more hours to reach their final destination.

  During the trip the group was still introducing themselves to each other. Chris became surprised, and the alarm bells started ringing in his head, as one of them admitted that he had only served in the Royal Navy. There were a few more questions asked of him. While someone said “he did not realise that Angola had a Navy”. His response was that he had been recruited to help train the Angolans and others for sea service. It was only when a few of them burst into laughter, that another one admitted that he was only a Cook. The atmosphere of the group suddenly started to change as each were asking others where they had completed their military service.

  Un-known to all, their recruiters had agreed on a quota during the negotiations and signing of the contract to supply ex-British military personnel. However, with this third group the experience of the applicants had been very limited and lacking. They did not have the choice of the earlier applicants. Therefore, to make the number as they had agreed, they had to scrape the so-called bottom of the barrel, in the hope that they would fill the quota. Failure to do so meant that they would not be paid the bounty of £100 per head. Later it was rumoured that a couple of homeless guys had even been recruited off the streets of London, although that was never confirmed.

  A couple of hours into the drive and the vegetation alongside the track became greener as the jungle crept in on them, but it was very sparse and best described as light. Vehicles could drive through it if they took it easy, although it was broken up occasionally by quite high rocks formations.

  As they were all seated in back of the truck they could only see the land scape while looking out of the back. Chris was of the opinion that at least somebody armed should be looking forward lying on the cab above the driver. Pointing out that the rocks would make good ambush positions. Most disagreed telling him that the driver knew what and where he was going, and would be keeping an eye open for them. With that remark Chris was starting to realise that there were not many on board who were of a military mind. After all they were entering a war zone, and that those on board should undertake some sort of serious vigilance.

  Just as night was falling the truck swung off the track and into what resembled a dilapidated old barracks of some kind. To be confronted by a figured dressed in the same uniform as those on board. Wi
thout warning he suddenly he started shouting at the top of his voice ordering them out of the truck and to fall in. An operation that was carried out quickly as the sound of his voice certainly sounded like that of authority.

  The camp was not in the best of shape and as suspected had not been used during the past few months. It was explained that their headquarters had been moved on a minute’s notice, and that their Operational Head Quarters was soon to be based there. They were then asked to sort themselves into groups of eight and pointing to a row of huts told to settle in. There would be no food, as they had not got a cook. To which some of the group all turned and point at the Cook, saying, “He is.” However, they were then informed that there was no food either. All that sort of organisation would be worked out the following day. Leaving Chris to remark quietly to himself, as in the Legion they could not afford it.

  Chris noticed that at least there were a couple of local guards walking around the compound and manning a couple of towers by the main gate.

  The next morning a couple of the Mercs promoted to the rank of Sergeant who had arrived with the earlier groups turned up to explained everything to them. The earlier Mercs were a couple of hours drive further up the track and fighting hard to hold their positions, and holding back the Cubans. In reality they were doing a reasonable job, considering they were up against military trained troops. Although the Cubans use of tanks at the head of their advancing troops was starting to swing the advantage in their favour.

  They were fell in on the rough looking make shift parade ground and quizzed as to their experience under fire. One of the recruits raised his hand, and was then asked what his experience was. To which he answered that he had been shot at while in Malta. “Malta” one of the Sergeants yelled at him. “Yes Sergeant, I had put my girlfriend in the family way and her Father came after me with a shot gun”.

  Once the laughter had died down. They were evenly divided and placed in to four separate sections. Each section was also given two local recruited Mercs who lived in the area. Most were of Portuguese origin and had lived or owned land in the area before the troubles started many years earlier.

  As soon as Chris mentioned the Special Air Service he stood out amongst the others. Immediately he was placed in charge of one of the sections to be used as a fast deployment group, and given two old Land Rover type local vehicles. The other three sections were to try and hold three areas located around the outside of the camp. Everyone was issued with an FN riffle and given a map of the area, and orders that they were to try and hold their positions. As the camp was preparing itself in case the other groups up the track had to withdraw back to this location.

  It took the rest of the day to build up the sections fortifications around the camp. While Chris added a couple of fixed machine guns and a radio to his vehicles. Along with ammunition and a couple of extra petrol jerry cans. Picturing in his mind that of the SAS founder David Sterling and his long Range Desert group that operated during the Second World War in North Africa. He also spent time going over the maps with the two Sergeants, asking lots of questions and storing it neatly in the back of his mind.

  Gradually stories started to emerge of the two earlier groups of Mercs who had arrived during mid-January. Some were not very encouraging as to who was going to be leading them, once they all joined up. As Chris had already been led to believe their Commander was a psychopathic killer. He had already changed his name to that of a film star and promoted himself to the rank of Colonel. He could usually be seen walking around brandishing a Russian Kalashnikov machine gun. If the stories were to be believed his two henchmen friends were no better. Apparently one of them was always seen walking around with a sawn off shotgun ready to use at all times. Constantly bragging to all whether you wanted to listen or not, of how useful it was in close quarter fighting. While wearing two 12 bore cartridge bandoliers crossed on his chest bandit fashion. Apparently, at one time to prove his point he had ordered a local who was walking past, to open his mouth. Upon which he stuck the barrel of his shotgun in his opened mouth and pulled the trigger. He then ordered another local to drag the body behind their quarters and left it lying in the open for a few days. Knowing of his reputation, they were too scared to refuse his order.

  All three believed and called the locals low life at every opportunity, and would not hesitate to shoot any of them for the slightest thing they did wrong. They would certainly carry out any command they were given.

  On another occasion the Colonel had found a couple of civilian clothes in one of the local’s kit bag, and believing that he was about to desert shot him, along with a couple of his friends, so others would know what would happen to them if they intended to desert. Amongst the UK Mercs there were many local Portuguese volunteers, who the Colonel and his henchmen had nicknamed ‘Pork’s’.

  Chris started wondering what he had signed up for. Knowing of his past history, in those sorts of situations he would not stand around and do nothing. However, with three of these psychopathic killers on the prowl and watching each other’s back, that was a different matter. Remembering his Father’s early teachings to him that he should never get himself into a situation he could not get himself out of. He made up his mind that if they were ever to confront him, he would keep his cool, while keeping his Fathers advice at the front of his memory, so he might live another day.

  The following day Chris was asked to take both vehicles out and to get to know the area. The very first thing he did was to promote one of the two locals he had been allocated, as his guide. Chris nick named him Paddy and ordered him to sit up front with him at all times. Choosing Paddy as his guide rather than the other local, because his English was very good. Chris needed somebody who spoke good clear English. If a firefight was to develop the last thing, he needed was to keep repeating himself.

  While mounted on a frame up and over the middle of the open backed vehicle they fixed a 7.62 Bren gun to the top of the frame, giving the operator a wide 190-degree angle of site in which to fire.

  Chris would lead while the second vehicle was to follow about a hundred meters behind him. If they were to come under fire it would be too easy to hit two vehicles close together, keeping a distance allows time to take avoiding action.

  Chris’s two vehicles dropped into a daily routine of checking out the area around the camp, and covering an eight to ten Kilometres radius. The only vehicles they came across where a few trucks bringing in ammunition, fuel, and food into the camp from all over the area.

  At times it was becoming a little boring for some of the group, even wondering if the problems within Angola was over. They also thought it strange that they had still not met up with many of the other earlier recruited Mercs.

  About a week into their stay at the camp, they were awoken to the sound of explosions in the distance, coming from the direction of the track that ran past the camp. Chris was ordered to take his vehicles along with one of the Sergeants to investigate further. Ten kilometres up the road they halted and took up a defensive position. While the Sergeant and Chris made their way to higher ground with a pair of binoculars, to try and see what might be happening ahead. The occasional explosion could guide them in the right direction, but they could see nothing. Not even smoke, which they thought might aid their search.

  Chris had privately nick named the Sergeant Moe, as he sported an old English RAF style of moustache, that looked like he used a little wax to twist the ends into a point. Confided in Chris that the other earlier Mercs were in two camps way up ahead. That they were fighting hard to hold on to their positions, and that it was not all going their way. The Cubans far outnumbered them, and also had several tanks to hide behind during their advance. Adding he had been sent back knowing replacements was on the way, meaning Chris and the other new boys on the block. However, even he was shocked and surprised that their numbers were low, and their experience was not what he had been told to expect. Coupled to that Chris had informed him that several were not what he would call fro
nt line fighters.

  They had been sent to try and prepare the fort as a base, if the unthinkable were to happen and that they all had to drop back. The reason also being that at least it was nearer to the Zairian border and if need be would offer them a safe haven, or that’s what they had been lead to believe.

  They radioing back to the camp and passed on their information. Then Moe came up with a plan of leaving three of the team along with the radio for a one-night stay. While they would head back planning to return the next morning. Chris left them what water and food they had in the vehicles and the radio. Soon after the remainder headed back to the camp.

  Upon their arrival the other Sergeant who Chris had nick named Spit and Polish, as he was always ordering somebody to do something around the camp, and would inspect the end result minutely. Although by now his name had been shortened to Spit.

  Spit had most of the group fell in on what they were using as a parade ground, inspecting them in their newly acquired uniforms and weapon. Even Moe was surprised and mentioned to Chis that at times his rank gets the better of him. Adding that weapons yes, they need to be kept in a good order, but cleaning your boots at a time like this is beyond me. What the Army usually call as going over the top. Shaking his head as he walked over to address the group with what they had found during the trip out. While adding what he thought they could expect.

  Un-known to Moe, the Cubans had broken through the Mercs forward position, after a rocket hit their Colonels Land Rover and blew it on its side, killing the driver and injuring others that included the Colonel. However, the survivors had managed to crawl into the bush and sort cover amongst some rocks. Although they had no radio, food and only a couple of pistols that were holstered at the time of the roll over. The only bit of luck was that immediately after the incident the Cubans had not been able to find them. Trying to gain the advantage and chaos that they believed the Mercs would be going through, they had pushed on. Intending to come back later to try and find them.

  Now the remainder of the forward Mercs were withdrawing back to the other group a couple of kilometres further back along the track.

  After a time, the Colonel and the four other survivors headed deeper into the undergrowth searching for better cover. However, the Colonel’s wounds would not allow him to make his own way un-assisted and he was carried. They were lucky and found an old grass constructed hut and decided to stay there. At least they were a little further in the under growth and well away from the track. However, after a day the Colonel ordered two of his men to go and try to get help, and gave them one of the pistols. They were never heard of again. Leaving the Colonel to wonder if they had been killed, captured, or had simply done a runner just to get away from him. He was crippled and was going nowhere. A day later he sent the remainder of his men, only this time he kept the last pistol with him.

  The next day the Colonel was awakened by voices heading his way and they were not talking in English. He knew this would be his last stand, and started shooting blindly in the air. Trying to attract attention in the hope that they might kill him quick. However, it was not to be, and he was captured alive and taken prisoner. However, it was later learned that after going through a military trial he was sentenced to death and executed by a firing squad.

  The next morning Chris’s camp was awakened very early, as the explosions sounded considerably louder. Some estimating that they were only a few kilometres way. Moe ordered Christ to ready his vehicles to leave as soon as possible, so they could go take a look.

  Chris wasted no time in leading Moe and his team to the usual position they travelled each day. Upon arrival some of the explosions sounded as if they were almost upon them, but for the moment they could see nothing.

  Before they had time to disembark from the vehicle to take up their usual defensive position behind some rocks, another vehicle could be heard, that suddenly appeared around the corner driving almost flat out. It came to a halt just in front of them. Shortly followed by another one two minutes later. The leaders got together to explain what had happened.

  Apparently the Cubans had broken through their lines and were now heading their way with no defensive lines to hold them back. Those that had not been killed or taken prisoner were hopefully in other following vehicles, if indeed there were any.

  It was also mentioned that at one time the Colonel had lost his temper with some of the earlier Mercs when they question his authority to order them what to do. They had not signed up to fight, but to train the locals. This ended badly as 11 were ordered on to a truck and driven down the road to an unknown destination. Having disembarked from the truck, they were then ordered to run. While a couple of the Colonels right hand men were allowed to participate in a live firing exercise, shooting them as they ran. However, one refused to run denying them the pleasure of shoot at a moving target in the back. Instead he stood his ground directly in front of them facing the gunmen, until he was the last man standing. One of the gun men then took out his pistol held it against his forehead and pulled the trigger. They left the bodies where they were, climbed back in the truck and headed back to re-join the rest of the Mercs. However, when the story leaked of what had taken place their morale immediately dropped. Who wanted to serve under somebody who could shoot you or have you shot at any time, just because he was having a bad day.

  By the time they had all returned to the camp Spit had been informed by radio, that owing to the disappearance of the Colonel, the next in command had ordered the full withdrawal of all the Mercs back to Kinshasa. Now it seemed like it might be a case of every man for himself. Although Moe tried to keep and boost up a little morale amongst them, insisting that they all help each other, and that nobody was to be left behind. No matter what was to happen to them.

  Anything that was left behind would be of use to the Cubans, so it had to be destroyed.

  The remaining trucks were lined up and only personnel gear plus their weapons would be allowed to go with them. Chris had the sense to check that he still had his passport in the shoulder bag that he had brought with him from the UK. Not wanting to end up once again in a British Embassy.

  Then at the very last moment Chris was ordered to head for the local Airstrip just in case the Colonel, and some of his men had made it, and needed a hand to get out. Chris did not like what he was being ordered to do, but never the less he accepted it. Along with three others they immediately set off for the Airstrip, believing that others had been left guarding the strip. It was a half an hour’s drive, and he knew the urgency, keeping his foot to the floor for the whole trip.

  Upon arrival they were surprised to find it deserted, there were no men and no aircraft. It was a sure bet that the pilot had realised what was going on, as he more than likely had heard the explosions in the distance. Although he had been ordered to wait for the Coronel before taking off, he had probably been worried about being captured and fled. Although un-known by Chris a few had managed to escape via the FLNA Fokker Friendship aircraft that operated from the strip, as to how many had got out it was not known.

  It only took Chris a few minutes to summarise the situation they now found themselves. Realising that to drive back would endanger their lives, and anyway the others might already be heading for the Zaire border, leaving them behind.

  However, the jungle around them was very thick, and to try and drive through it would be almost impossible. On the other hand, to try and walk out would be twice as bad, as they had no provisions or idea what lay ahead of them. It was all unknown territory to them.

  Chris talking to the other four told them that it looks like they were on their own. However, it would be easier for them to head back, at least they knew a little about the area. Adding that they should all keep vigilant and alert at all times. At least they could use the vehicle to get back to the camp, and maybe catch the others up. They dreaded the thought of breaking down or running out of fuel, and having to foot slog it out on their own.

  It would be a brave attempt tr
ying to escape not knowing who were their friends or enemies were. At least they were having a go at getting out. There was no way they wanted to just sit around, and be rounded up by a very confident and fast approaching Cuban Force. To let themselves be captured was a no brainer, as their execution would be swift and brutal.

  At least they had the luxury of a track to get them back to their camp. Sadly, when they arrived it was almost deserted, as the convoy had already moved out.

  Most of the camp had been destroyed not wanting to leave anything of value for the Cubans. Even the tap on the Petrol tank had been left open. To which Chris ordered that nobody light up a cigarette. After a lot of searching they found a couple of jerry cans around the back of the stores and topped up their vehicle. One of them wanted to put a match to the petrol and burn the whole camp down, However, Christ stopped him. Reminding him that it would create a lot of smoke and give their position away, so it could be shelled. Not knowing how close the enemy were and not wanting to waste any more time in the camp. Besides there could be other Merc’s fleeing the Cubans, and if they made it this far, they might be able to use some of the gear.

  They sped up the track to try and attach its self to the rear of the convoy, they knew was just up the track hopping it would lead them all out of Angola.

  The small convoy of trucks and Land Rovers had left the camp around midday, for the long drive back to Zaire. Hoping that they could stay ahead of the pursuing Cubans. Which was the correct call, as they were not far behind them. Sensing the smell of blood and a Victory for Angola and its backing local militia groups.

  As the convoy made its way to safety, most of the trucks in the middle of the convoy experience dust storm conditions and problems. As it had not rains for quite some time the track had turned into a bit of dust bowl. At times the dust was so thick that the gap between each vehicle became wider and wide. Chris being the tail end charley was almost down to a crawl unable to see the road ahead clearly.

  While unknown to them, they were leaving a fingerprint as to where they were and heading. All the Cubans had to do was to follow the dust, and with the difference in speed between the Mercs and the Cuban the gap was decreasing rapidly.

  With the ever-increasing distance between each vehicle increasing, the dust trail was so long that from high ground they could work out where they were, and to shell that particular part of the track, with tank and heavy weapons shells.

  Now the column was in real trouble as shells started dropping alongside of the track where they were. While smoke and debris was also being added to the dust disturbance they were creating.

  As they were being shelled large holes suddenly became visible at times alongside the track. Catching some of the drivers out, only being able to swerve at the very last moment.

  As Chris swerved to miss a small crater to his right an explosion sounded over them and immediately a hole appeared directly in front of them. It happened so fast that Chris’s reactions would not have helped him, as he slammed on the brakes so hard he thought his feet were going to go through the floor. The next second the front of the Land Drover and wind screen was covered in debris, as the vehicle rocked violently as it drove over more debris and then nosedived in to a massive hole that had appeared in the track straight in front of him.

  The vehicle ended up on its side in the bottom of the small crater. While Chris had survived the crash with several cuts and bruises, the other front seat passenger was dead. One Merc, who had been sitting in the back, was suddenly flung forward past Chris and continued on through the windscreen ending up on the ground in front of the vehicle. Along with Chris two others also survived, having several what can best be described as light injuries. However, their situation had suddenly become critical. Being the last vehicle in the column and a thick dust cloud all around them. They did not know where they were, or what lay ahead. The worse scenario possible was that the trucks in front of them would not have seen what had happened and missed them. The bad news continued to worsen as Chris realised that they did not know how close the enemy was behind them.

  After clambering out of the vehicle and crater, Chris tried to take control of the situation. Knowing that the track ran roughly parallel to the Zaire border, to their left, and facing north. Although it would mean that ahead of them was a several hour slog across desolate rocky and jungle countryside to be covered on foot. It would not matter where they crossed the border, as it was not usually manned out in the country. At least it would get them off the track and while the dust storm was still swirling around it would also give them good cover.

  They grabbed what small hand luggage they thought they could carry for such a long trip. Chris managed to find his beloved shoulder bag, while telling the others that the radio was stuffed and anyway it would have been too heavy to take with them. Lady luck was with them as they grabbed all the personnel water bottles they could find. Along with their FN riffle and a couple of magazines each. Within a matter of minutes Chris ordered them to head for the border not knowing how close the enemy was behind them. Ordering them to look for cover to assist them. One thing he did know was that nobody was going to come back to pick them up, mainly because they would not have known what had happened.

  During all that time shells were still passing overhead and explosions could be heard, nobody knew where or upon whom they were falling. Chris and his two friends could not run as the dust was still quite thick, keeping each other in sight at all times. From out of the blue a large explosion took place right on the last Merc. One minute he was there the next he was gone. Both Chris and Chalky were covered with debris and even splatters of his blood. Chalky had gained the nickname on account that his surname was White.

  Chris could only assume that it had been a lucky hit. No time to hang around but to keep walking as fast as they could, while all the time looking for something large to hide behind. It was hoped that when the dust settled and cleared, they would be able to see where the enemy was. Although, Chris knew that if it were tanks following behind them, their tracks would churn up an even bigger dust cloud.

  Once they found cover they decided to sit and wait it out, to try and see what was going on and to decide what to next. To their surprised once the dust settled nobody or vehicles were in sight. Whether the column had made it to safety or not they had no idea.

  Looking at his watch Chris could see that there was still a couple of hours of daylight left and decided to try and use the time to place some distance between him, the track, and possibly the enemy. For a compass to help steer them correctly to the north, Chris lined up the hour hand on the dial of his watch with the sun. He looked at the twelve o’clock position and divided the distance to the hour hand by half. However, something was wrong as by his calculations they had to head back towards the track. For a minute he was confused and kept rechecking his watch. Just as he was about to claim that his watch was faulty. He smiled at Chalky saying, “of course we are south of the equator aren’t we”. Realising that in the southern hemisphere its 180 degrees opposite. Then pointing to the north told Chalky that was the way home.

  In order to cover as much ground as possible Chris set the pace, hoping to distance them from who or what might be on their trail. All the time being observant of their surroundings. In case they were surprised he needed an escape route fast. The land was covered with thick gorse bushes and short trees and bushes. While scattered around were many rock formations that at times were several hundred feet in height. Meaning that at times they had to go around some of them. That was when his compass was used to its full potential.

  As the last of the sun’s rays were about to drop below the horizon, they came across a small assortment of rocks sticking out of the ground and decided to make camp hidden behind them. Although it was against everything he had been trained for, Chris chose not to post a guard. They were so tied and believing they had been unseen and out of the way, it was worth the gamble. If they had been on an existing track, he would certainly have posted
a guard.

  The following morning, just as the sun poked its head up from the horizon to the east they broke camp and were ready to strike out again. Same as the day before Chris set up his compass, pointed north and away they trudged. Every hour he would re-check their position lining the compass up with a prominent feature that stood out on the horizon, and that was what they would head for.

  They were still carrying their rifles, although being a weight they would have liked to ditch. Although Chris knew while still in enemy territory they might be needed if they were to come across a nasty situation.

  Luck was with them as they crossed over no other tracks, and never saw any sign of life anywhere, apart from a few local animals. Chris was wondering why there was not even aircraft flying overhead looking for them. Although the vehicle had probably been found, there were a couple of body’s nearby. Maybe the enemy had come to the conclusion that there were no more Mercs in the area.

  It was a long day and once again they walked until the sun was about to disappear. When they sort a spot to spend the night. The next day found them still walking, but with no idea as to where they were. Although by this time Chris was of the opinion that they were in Zaire, but had no way of knowing. Suspecting that the area was so remote that it was not even marked locally. Oh it might have been on a map, but not all maps are correct. Chris had talked it over with Chalky and they had agreed that they keep going until they found some sort of life. To then approach them and hope they would tell them where they were, and not hand them over to the authorities. Although food was becoming a problem, not wanting to shoot something and worse still light a fire to cook it. They had been lucky in the water stakes by coming across a very small stream, at which they had taken a break, drunk plenty of water and filled up the water bottles.

  Meanwhile and un-known to Chris, the column had eventually reached Kinshasa airport after only losing two trucks. They met up with Mick Ball who by now had become President Roberto’s chief paymaster. A deal was worked out and the lucky ones were given a flight out of the country via Brussels. While a not so private welcome awaited their arrival at London Airport a couple of days later. Where their return was well publicised in the press under such headlines ‘Dogs of War return home with their tails between the legs’. They were made to feel like and were treated like criminals.

  Eventually on the third day Chris and Chalky found themselves walking through what could best be described as some sort of plantation. The plants were so high they could not see above them. They decided to go around as the very long leaves had razor sharp edges, and they didn’t want to keep rubbing up against them. There was also the problem of seeing where they were going. Even if they jumped up they could still not see over them. There was also the noise they made as they pushed their way through. It would have woken the devil himself. Finally, Chris reminded Chalky that there could also be a snake problem, not having undertaken a little more homework on Angola before he left the UK. He was not sure what snakes did actually reside in that part of Africa.

  Although Chris had taken into consideration that with a cane crop there just had to be a farmer somewhere in the area, and a possible track or road nearby.

  Then out of the blue they stumbled onto a narrow dirt track and got their rifles to the ready position. Their pace slowed while watching all around them. With Chris watching the front, and Chalky covering the rear. There were a few scattered trees along one side of the track that they could use for cover if they came under fire.

  Later an old tumbled down farmhouse came into view. Lady luck had smiled upon them as they were confronted with a very friendly local farmer, who spoke reasonable good English. Allowing Chris, the opportunity to ask where they were and could they buy some food. They were in luck as he invited them in to his house and fed them. Answering most of their questions and informed them that yes they were actually in Zaire. Although they were a long way from Kinshasa, but there was a bus route at the bottom of his one and a half kilometre track to a sealed road. They finally thanked the man for his hospitality and he drove them to the main road.

  Sure enough there was a bus stop as had been explained. Although they were still a long way from Kinshasa, but at least they could have another rest. However, not before they hid their weapons in a ditch full of water by the roadside. After which both agreed with each other that the war for them was over, and that they had not even fired a single shot.

  To their relief they were never challenged, but upon their emergence from the jungle within the Congo they were rounded up by the local militiamen and lucky for them taken to the Capital.

  Because of the publicity that surrounded the Massacre of British citizens the public wanted answers. Every member who returned was questioned and this included Chris, while a few were handed over to the authorities for outstanding warrants to be served upon them.

  For the first time in his life he had been able to see another side of this sort of work and the dirt that surrounds it.

  Once again Chris’s shoulder bag would come in handy, with his passport and a little money he had been carrying around secretly since arrival. Never one to trust people, as more that once he had learnt the hard way. The only thing that Chris and Chalky were un-happy about was the fact that they had not received a single penny since leaving the UK. He believed he had enough money to purchase them a couple of tickets although he was not sure how much the tickets would be, he might have to end up doing a little bargaining. At least the money was in the local currency as he had changed it before he left the UK.

  Having his Passport meant that at least he would not end up at the British Embassy like in Singapore less than a year ago. However, his luck was to run out, as he did not have enough money for his air ticked. Together they both made their way to the British Embassy.

  Chris was after the airfare home, while Chalky needed the airfare and a new passport. Both were lucky after spending just two nights in the Embassy, found themselves flying out of the Congo, with Chalky claiming “never again”. To which Chris added, “Never say never.”

  A couple of days later Chris was back in London, having once again taking up lodging in the Bermondsey area of London.