Task Force Intrepid (The Gold of Katanga), page 13
“So be it. I ask that you line out the guards before you go. To be quite honest, we don’t want to lose you. You are a great asset to the company.”
“You have no worries about me honoring my contract. I believe these men could use my experience.”
Kruger stood up and reached out his hand to Mr. Smith. “Thank you, Sir. We can use all the muscle possible.” He then turned to Pretorius. “Finish up your duties and meet us in the Command Center when you are finished.”
“Roger that, Sir.”
****
The trucks drove into the compound and the Congolese filtered into the compound and formed up as a platoon. Lieutenant Kava asked Major Bell and the Team to come out and inspect the troops. Major Bell was enthusiastic that they had arrived. “You won’t be disappointed.”
The sun was starting to fall over the horizon and one of the guards turned on the flood lights. The 391st stood in ranks with their combat gear, eyes front. The NCO, Mbolo called them to attention.
Lieutenant Kava reported to Major Bell and Kruger. “Sirs, these are my men. They are in good spirits and I think you will find them satisfactory. Would you like to perform an inspection?”
Kruger cut to the chase. “Can I address your men? Will you translate for me?”
“Of course, Sir.”
Kruger walked to the head of the formation and addressed the African troops like he had done so many times as an officer in South Africa.
“You are here because your officers believe in you. They tell me that you are battle ready. You have no need for me to tell you what kind of men we are going to engage. You have lived your life in the Congo. They are men who are evil to the core of their being. They seek to destabilize the lives of your brethren Congolese. Whatever tribe you are from, it ends here. Once we engage the enemy, there will be no retreat. You will offer quarter to no one. This band of thieves and murderers are to be eliminated.”
A man in the back began to chant out their units war cry. It spread across the platoon. The rhythmic sound of the chant brought Kruger back to his days in Angola. He felt the vigor and desire radiate from the men. His mind flashed back to battles gone by. Their cause was just and his doubt was erased. There would be Hell to pay.
****
Back in the Command Center all of the principles were seated around the table. It was time to finalize the details of the mission. They had no time to spare. Kruger went back to his roots in the Rhodesian RLI and their sweeps of terrorist camps. He had a plan for the Commando’s that would put them to the test.
“Lieutenant Kava, your men are trained in Reconnaissance and Direct Action. We know that they will have listening posts likely from each direction. You need to get your best trackers to find and eliminate those Listening Posts on the approach from the south and the west. The block houses where the missionaries are thought to be held are on the west side of the village near the river. They must do this prior to our assault. My guess is that they check in at regular intervals. Probably on the hour. Two teams of two men will leave tonight to find and prepare to eliminate them. After they are gone, we will have to double time to within 1000 yards of the village. Your men will approach from the south and our team will approach from the west.”
“I have just the men. They are our best trackers. They will find them. I guarantee it,” Kava said enthusiastically.
“The important part of the initial assault will be our sectors of responsibility. You will deploy your machine gun teams on the left flank and lay down heavy covering fire for us. Their field of fire starts fifty meters away from the block houses. Our team will engage within that sector and westward until your assault has moved past the buildings. Fortunately, most of the huts are on the north and east side. Your skirmish line should move and clear each hut. If men want to run and you cannot get a shot, they are to let them go. They will run into our stop groups.”
“Understood.”
“We will need a MG team to travel with us. They will move around the village with our sniper at four to eight hundred meters north of the camp alongside the northern track. They are to find adequate cover to shield from any stray rounds headed north and set their position to cut down anyone fleeing north or coming southward. We will pick up the Tracker team and they will move with the MG stop groups. The sweep of the village should head in a north north-east movement if at all possible. Any questions, so far?”
“No, Sir.”
“Your callsign will be Foxtrot 1-6. Ours will be Bravo 1-9. My actual is Whiskey Kilo.
“Major Bell, do you see anything else to add to this sweep?” Kruger asked.
“Not so far. The men have a very good sense of fire discipline.”
“Bravo Group will initiate the attack and rescue of the prisoners. The first friendly shot will signal the go ahead. We will have security posted in our sector. We will have to hole up in the brick house to assess the hostages and make sure that they are mobile. After you have pushed past us we will lead them south, away from danger and wait for Helo extraction. There may be some who escape. We will have to decide if we try to regain contact or not, at that time.”
“With resupply of ammunition we are prepared to stay in the field for 3 days, Sir,” Kava said.
“Hopefully, we can entrap the bulk of them and we will only be pursuing stragglers. This is not a capture mission. Lieutenant, your men are to view this mission as a hunter-killer operation,” Kruger said adamantly.
“Understood.”
“In the event that this attack stalls or loses the initiative, our team will halt the extraction of the hostages and join your platoon in regaining the momentum. Nothing is to be gained by dying on this operation, including the missionaries. Lastly, in the event of us retreating, we will fall back to this small hill,” Kruger pointed to an X on the map, “Form defensive positions and await extraction in two phases. If we cannot hold, we will cross the river and fight an orderly retreat down river.” No mission was complete without an alternative to the primary plan.
“To recap, Lieutenant, you will send out your tracker teams tonight. Our chopper will put them down 13 klicks away from the village. Tomorrow afternoon, we will ruck toward our jump off points. We can’t have the chopper compromising the mission. Also, we have made arrangements to have the ransom deposited into their account in hopes that this will offset their state of readiness. If they release the hostages, you will still follow through with the mission with my men as reserve troops.”
Major Bell and Lieutenant Kava had their notes and maps laid in front of them on the table. “A fine plan, Mr. Kruger. I still plan on accompanying the men into the field,” Bell said as he stood up to leave.
“As you wish Major. Bravo team, stick around. A few minor things to discuss.”
The room cleared out and the team remained in their seats, including Johan. “Ouens, Johan Pretrorius will be joining us on the mission. He comes from the South African Special Task Force. As you know, they are probably the most seasoned and experienced police unit in the world. HR is their specialty.”
Kruger could tell by the looks on the team’s faces that they had some consternation adding a man to the mix that they didn’t know, no matter where he came from. “Our tactics and procedures will not change. Johan will act as another gun for security in our sector.”
Johan stood up and addressed the team. “Mr. Kruger has asked me to join with you and I am honored. I’ve been a part of 32 successful HR’s in South Africa but that was with a finely tuned unit of men. I am not a part of your unit and I will not interfere with your main assault. I’m handy with the rifle and pistol and will keep the heat off your backs. And I’ll buy a round of beers in Kolwezi afterwards.”
“Here, Here. To Johan,” Taylor raised an imaginary shot glass. After a brief moment of awkward silence, the team joined in. “To Johan!”
Chapter 21
Privates Abelo and Kawbe wished their comrades good luck and that they would see them at the objective as the Puma touched down inserting the first tracker team then moving off to the west. The helicopter hugged the contours of the earth beneath them trying to minimize anyone from spotting them. Veermak, the crew chief, tried to speak to the Privates. No luck. The soldiers spoke French and Lingala and Veermak spoke Afrikaans and English.
Sergei navigated his way to the next drop zigzagging his course. If anyone could hear them, they would not know where the chopper was headed. Ten minutes later, Veermak motioned to the soldiers that they were ready to insert. Sergei eased off the throttle and spotted a flat spot at the bottom of a small hill. The two soldiers unbuckled and jumped out and sprinted away from the aircraft. Throttling up the chopper, he continued to zigzag his way farther west and back towards home.
Abelo and Kawbe found thick bush to set up in, getting their bearings before they set out to clear the path for the assault. Abelo was just 19 years of age and had been in the Army for two years. It was a miracle that he had grown that old. He came from a poor village in a remote part of the western DRC. Like most of the population, his family lived on what they could produce from the land and their herd of goats. Though there were laws against poaching, he and his father hunted weekly to provide food for the family and village. From the time he was old enough to keep up with his father, he went on hunts. His father showed him all of the things that told a story about the animals they were hunting. The imprint in the dirt, the overturning of rocks, a bent blade of grass to the smell in the air. His ears were trained to detect the sounds of the forest. How the wind blew through trees or across the tall grass. Inevitably, his father would track the animal to its resting point. When they came in close and the spoor was as fresh as their own, they would stalk like the wild cats of Africa that they feared on a constant basis and often competed with for game. He learned to be as light and as invisible as a man can be. Whether it was the spear, the blowgun or a rifle when they had ammunition, the hunt rarely failed to produce food for the family.
It was this ability that Lieutenant Kava and the American soldiers looked for when they came to train the Congolese. Both Abelo and Kawbe had the ability to track man or animal through the most difficult terrain the country had. The Congolese soldiers were able to point things out to the Americans that they missed but were as plain as road signs to the men who grew up hunting the land. The Americans lacked the ability to sense and smell their prey. But unlike his days in the village, they were training to hunt men who had guns as well. An animal was likely to run away when found, not to shoot an AK-47 back at the hunter.
The two, two man tracking teams were honored to be given this mission. Their training had taught them that the untrained Rebel was careless and messy. Often high on drugs and belief that they were invincible would lead to their demise.
They had been equipped with night vision goggles and a hand held GPS system. From their briefing, they had been given a grid of coordinates that they needed to search and clear to make way for the upcoming mission. The chopper pilot had landed them squarely in the correct position to start their sweep. If they were lucky, the men they intended to kill would have chosen an easy position to lay up in right off of the foot trail that ran east and west from the village.
Travelling very light with only ammunition, water and a few MRE’s, they set off parallel to the foot path that they easily found with their GPS. Even with NVG’s, finding spoor would be difficult but not impossible if these men were fools. They began to track eastward twenty to thirty meters from each side of the trail. By travelling parallel with the main track they would find any path that the Rebels had taken off the main track. They began with the mind that any observation post would be on the highest ground available.
Several hours passed. They took 10 minute rests every hour and discussed any possible finds and ideas. Around 0200 hours, they took a break and consulted their GPS system and discovered that they were about seven klicks away from the village. They had guessed that an observation post would be within five kilometers. Enough time to alert the troops but not too far away from the main body. They were in a small washout making sure that they would have cover while they rested. The map showed that about a kilometer and a half ahead was a hill that was the highest point along the trail they had been following. It was about eight hundred meters to the north of the foot path. Abelo and Kawbe had a gut instinct that this would be a prime OP.
“I have a feeling that they are up there,” Abelo whispered.
“It makes sense, we haven’t seen any human spoor off the main track yet. We don’t know if they have night vision goggles or not. We can’t risk being spotted,” Kawbe said.
“That is the highest point. If they alert the camp, it would give them enough time to prepare. We need to go directly north and come around the backside of the hill. Let’s wait to see if we can spot anything on it before we move on. We still have four hours of darkness left.”
The men took off their packs and climbed to the top of the washout and pulled their binoculars out and waited.
****
The darkness turned to grey in the eastern sky. Dr. Hanes sat against the cold concrete wall of the prison they had been in for at least a week. He had not slept a minute throughout the night. The complete agony of the death of his wife had broken him. The tears would not come anymore. He thought of Job in the Bible who after God had taken everything and afflicted him with disease and loss that he would sit in the ashes and wait for Him. In times past, the Scripture had brought him peace and hope. He had based his life upon it. Now, he felt nothing.
He looked around at the people who were with him. These people had made a decision to follow their calling in life, to come to a dark place and bring light with them. Now they were in the darkest of places. It made no matter if the sky was blue or black. God had failed them. He had failed them. The people he had come to help were now his torturers. They had stolen his life already by killing Samantha. It would be a mercy killing for him to be shot now. The others, especially the women, had been stripped of any dignity a human being could hold. Raped, beaten and abused, their lives would never be the same. In a sense, whether they made it out alive or not, the lives they used to know were over. The Dark Continent had swallowed up the souls of all of them.
And who was this madman and his associates? They seemed to have no agenda but the ransom money. What could a man do with three million dollars in the Congo? Build a large house? He would just be victimized by another succeeding group that would come and take what he had.
Back at home in America, few could point out the Democratic Republic of the Congo, much less Kolwezi. Who had heard of the War in the Congo where 5 million people had perished? Their story would be a byline on an internet site or a brief mention on the cable news programs. A few white missionaries killed by marauders in the Congo. He could hear them now, Poor things, what were they doing in a place so dangerous anyway? Very foolish. Yes, it seemed like a great idea and was gratifying when they were able to help out a sick child and save him from the mortality rate with a few injections but now, it seemed like the most foolish thing he could have ever done. He had led people into imprisonment and the women into being violated in every possible manner. Likely exposed to the HIV virus. Even if they lived, the legacy of this would go on for years.
He knew that the Government of the DRC would not waste their time to rescue them. It was doubtful they had the men who could do it. And Katanga Resources, a rich company full of men who lined their pockets with the spoils of their economic war in Africa. They took advantage of his medical services and religious counsel for their employees but what could they do? They would send condolences and high praises to the people back in Canada and America, maybe set up a fund in their names.
He had often thought about the possibility of dying for his faith. Perhaps that would be worth something. Now they would die for nothing. Just money.
He heard movement outside the door and the voice of the man who had killed his wife. The big leader with the maroon beret. His prayers for him to die of his infection had obviously fallen on deaf ears. The door opened.
Francois ordered the windows be opened to the guards. He strode towards the now awake group. “Your friends in America have come through with the money,” he said in a taunting fashion. “They have asked for proof that you are alive, so smile for the camera,” Malouff said as one of his henchmen forced them to look into the camera and state their names. He then dismissed the guard and stood over them menacingly.
“What are you going to do with us?” Doug asked.
“I have not decided yet. You have proven very valuable to me. Perhaps I should ask for more, no?” he bellowed with a dark laugh. “You will stay with us as a security deposit. We are leaving this place and returning to our home, where the money comes much faster.”
David Stein, the other Doctor stood up and confronted Malouff. “You evil bastard. We have done nothing to you. You have your money, let us go!”
Malouff took out his pistol and swung it across the jaw of Dr. Stein who fell like a stone onto the ground, knocked out cold. “Would anyone else like to say something?” he said calmly. “You will stay with us until we are finished with you. The Congo is a beautiful place. Soon we will travel.”
Doug looked down at the floor. He couldn’t look at the others or Malouff. He quietly cursed the day he was born and especially the day he was born again.
****
All of the joint task force had bedded down late in the night and rose early. After morning rituals, they would go over their mission plan again and rehearsals for a few hours then rest, eat and move out. They would have to be moved in two waves by Sergei’s Puma helicopter inland. The final 15 kilometers would be on foot. There were many unknowns and variables that could collapse the mission but under the circumstances and their limitations with equipment, transport and men, Kruger believed that they were good to go if the listening posts could be found and eliminated. If Lieutenant Kava overestimated his men’s ability to sniff them out, they would be fighting a pitched battle with little hope of rescuing the missionaries.
