Task Force Intrepid (The Gold of Katanga), page 6
Everyone controlled their breathing and looked through the Monocular lense of their NVG. They had been issued head harnesses as they did not wear helmets. Each operator was aware of who was to their left and right and focused on their field of responsibility. Each sector could quickly become a field of fire. They surveyed the area for another five minutes before Kruger ordered them up. The men assembled on him for final orders.
“Alright, men, we’ve got a 10k ruck ahead of us. Two klicks to the creek bed. I plan on being at Objective A before daybreak. Once you get there, radio in. Bravo team, don’t wake up any villagers. There is one village you have to bypass. Circle wide. Salvo has a silencer if you find any lions or dogs in the Bos. Any questions? Salvo?
“Negative, Whiskey Kilo.”
“Alright Colin, let’s go.”
Kruger checked his GPS system and took point with Colin in tow. Two klicks to the River bed for the team. They would then split and make for the mines. The five man team began moving east in a single column. They maintained a ten to fifteen meter interval with the men alternating their areas of responsibility. One to the left, next to the right. An elite soldier trained to shoot off their strong and weak sides. In close quarters combat, a right hand shooter might need to corner at a right angle and shooting from the left side allowed them to expose as little as possible as they ‘pie’d’ a corner or reacted to an ambush. Mike took the rear security position, stopping every minute or so to kneel down and stop, look and listen to ensure they were not being followed. He carried the M249 which would provide an immediate reaction of fire superiority should they be ambushed from the rear.
Their steps were light with their toes hitting the ground first in order to test the area for anything that might cause noise, such as a twig snapping or stumbling over a rock. Africa also yielded another threat that required a skillful walk. Poachers were a bane to the continent. Because of the inability of the people to develop agriculture and livestock, many depended on bushmeat for sources of protein and revenue to sell to urban dwellers. The wrong step might set off a trap, causing injury and blowing their cover. Years of bush patrols had honed the men’s instinct in stealth. The pace was slow but steady. Silence in the bush was a weakness most guerillas displayed. Many times a hasty ambush would be put together simply by being able to hear men coming from a long distance away.
Their night vision goggles allowed them to see the activity of the Savanna at night. Wildlife lit up their goggles. Fortunately they were venison game and were wary of anything outside their species.
Kruger quickly found a game trail that led them to the creek bed. Within an hour and a half they had made it to their first objective. Neither team would walk in the bed in order to lighten their track. If they walked up the middle of it, their prints would easily be found and might prematurely sound an alarm to any rebels. Their boots were standard US issue and left a large distinguishable print.
In the Border War as a South African soldier, he had worn special boots without a patterned track, leaving less trace of their presence. The enemy had worn them as well, issued by East Germans who had produced the boot. In Mozambique he was most often the tracker, though they left as little imprint as possible.
Kruger carried an R4 with an attached M203 grenade launcher and iron sights. Though he had fought with just about every major battle rifle, he felt most comfortable with it. He used the FN FAL as a teenager but his near decade with the SADF was lived with this rifle. Colin Taylor had the same setup minus the grenade launcher. The Barrett was broken down and carried in a specially made backpack. His usual light hearted demeanor had been replaced by the former Australian SASR soldier. They found another game trail that allowed them to move at a good pace. They would locate the cache and determine if it was the best OP before the sun came up.
Salvo’ team had the same good fortune and the cool of the night made the trek easier. Salvo carried the same setup as Kruger. In his work in South America, he had used the sister weapon of the R4, the Israeli Galil. There were few differences. The R4 clip had an additional capacity of 5 extra bullets. Major Bell had loaned out P228 9mm Sig Sauers to each of the men as their sidearm. Salvo’s came with a silencer as he was very good at neutralizing sentries. He brought the M-40 sniper rifle as well.
Blake McGee took up the second position. He was not as familiar with the R4 as his counterparts but marksmanship was marksmanship. As a former officer, his standard was always higher than the men under his command. He was travelling light.
Mike Simmons felt secure with the M249. He had a full magazine or and two ‘nut sacks’, as they called them, in his rucksack. He continued his rear security duties. More than rebel activity, he was nervous about the wildlife.
Overall, the teams doctrine was to put out superior firepower and multiply their numbers in the mind of the enemy. Unlike Kruger’s team, Salvo had to bypass a village. Four klicks into their march, they could see the village through the NVG’s. Salvo motioned for the team to arc out away from it and to slow down and be as light as possible.
While maintaining a three hundred and sixty degree security watch, they caught glimpses of people moving around in the village. Salvo halted the trio and used his night scope to look more closely. He spotted two butchered Toyota trucks. There were men with AK-47’s slung over their shoulders. He counted at least ten to twelve. It was likely that they were from the Rebel group, taking their leisure in the village. His mind knew that if they were in that village that women had been raped and their food had been taken. How easy it would be to shoot first and ask questions later. Within forty eight hours they would have their chance to right a little wrong in this corner of the world.
They increased their distance from the village and were soon beyond it. Salvo desperately prayed that those men would not be looking for tracks. It was doubtful, as they rode in the trucks. Around 0300 hours they reached the coordinates that Major Bell had given them for the cache. It was on high ground above the River on the backside of a ridge. Three crates had been covered with grass and brush. They carefully looked to see if anything looked suspicious. They appeared untouched.
The spot they stopped at was eight hundred meters from the mine compound’s fence. The knob that they were on had enough vegetation to conceal the men. There were lights on in the compound around the gate and the trailers used as offices and sleeping quarters. The excavation equipment was spread over the rest of the area. Earth movers and trucks were separated from the mining equipment. A medim sized bucket wheel excavator was the main piece of machinery. Its long arms jutted over the top of the tailings of earth that formed mounds around it.
Salvo relayed to Kruger that they had reached the OP. The men took off their rucksacks and began picking positions that they could get a good view on the compound. The cache’s contained three five gallons of water. They drank heartily and ate an MRE recovering from the march. The beginning of any operation in unfamiliar territory upped the adrenaline and nerves and it was important to stop and collect themselves before they went on to the next task.
All of them had been through sniper training and had used those skills in the field. After a short rest, they began to ply the trade of concealment using the natural surroundings to blend in. The tall grass was perfect for them to fit onto their BDU’s and bush hats. All of their gear was also woven into the terrain. The sun would be bright and the temperature high so they opted to find spots that would create shade. Acacia trees grew on the knob. It was rare for clumps of trees in the savanna. They counted four in the area. They could communicate quietly with their tactical microphones.
By the time the sun had come up, they were well concealed and prepared to begin the stalk of their prey.
Kruger and Taylor had made good time. Their cache was found and inspected. Besides water and ammunition it contained a whole crate of hand grenades. Possibly up to thirty. Fragmentary grenades and twenty 40mm grenades for the M203. The Puma was supposed to have similar caches in it after their first extraction.
The spot that the Commandos had chosen was correct. It was past the mine. If they had set up directly across from it where the ground was level with the compound, the tailings would obscure their view. After regrouping from the march, they melted into the bushes about fifty meters apart and waited.
Colin reassembled his Barrett quickly and confidently. The magnification on the scope would be able to tell who needed a shave and who didn’t. Kruger relayed that they were in position as well. A successful insertion and ruck to their OP’s was a good sign. The area was not infested with Rebels like the eastern Kivu provinces. The relative isolation and remoteness of this area of the country helped avoid any trouble on the way in.
Chapter 10
Francois Maalouf awoke to the roosters and pain in his shoulder. He knew it was infected. A fever had started to set in. That bastard white devil. How could he allow himself to be shot by a white man? He peeled off the bandage and wiped the puss off of it and threw it on the floor. He would have to see one of those missionary doctors. He put on his pants and boots and went over to the building holding the missionaries.
A young black Rebel with his AK-47 at high port stood rigidly in front of the door. He came to attention when Francois approached. “Good Morning, Colonel.”
“Open the fucking door,” he said. Most Rebels fought with their tribes. This movement brought together experienced fighters from many different tribes all united by their leadership who prized money over tribal loyalties. Their leaders spoke French and expected their troops to do the same. The Democratic Republic of the Congo had over two hundred indigenous languages. French, Lingala and Swahili were the languages of most business and education. Backed by very powerful, educated men, they recruited people from all over the Congo. Francois had even attended school in Paris for a year.
“Yes, Colonel.” Francois walked into the room full of the white devils who cowered in fear. “My arm is infected. You! Get up and fix my arm.” He pointed at Doug Hanes. Dr. Hanes was haggard and sick. Afraid beyond anything he could have dreamed, he felt that each moment was a nightmare. He got up and followed Francois.
“Before you die, you will save my life. There is medicine in our storage building.”
Doug remained silent. Perhaps if he helped him, they would be treated better. The village they were in consisted of mud and clay mortar huts, small buildings made of rotten old lumber with the roofs pieced together of corrugated steel and whatever else they could find. They went to the building next to the one they were being held in that was of mason brick construction. Inside were stockpiles of weapons and radios.
The teenager guarding the building stood up when the Colonel came in. “Find me the medicine boxes. Now you piece of shit.” The teenager set down his rifle and rummaged through the piles of boxes and pulled out a crumpled cardboard box.
The Colonel pointed to Dr. Green. “Find what I need and fix it.”
The doctor opened the box. Inside were pills, bandages and syringes. Thankfully, he found vials of penicillin. As much hate and fear he felt for this man he proceeded to treat him. “Please sit down, Colonel.” He poured Iodine onto the wound and made him wince, then proceeded to gently clear away dead skin, puss and dirt. As a doctor, his only instinct was to do the job well and he did his best. After cleaning the wound, he bandaged it. It was badly infected. He would need to give him two shots of penicillin to attack the infection. He pulled out the vials and syringe and prepared the injection. “I will have to give you two shots today. I will put it in your right arm.”
The Colonel nodded his head in approval. He cleaned the area on the man’s large deltoid muscle with alcohol. He sunk the needle and emptied it, then repeated.
“I will need to give you shots for a few more days, once a day.”
“Very well.” He led the Doctor back to their building. “Although you may die soon, I will order that no one will touch your women anymore.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” he said as he walked back into the dark and putrid room. He sat down on the floor and prayed and wept.
Chapter 11
Bravo Team had been able to set up to the east of the compound so the sun would be rising into the eyes of the compound and obscuring their vision as long as long as they did not silhouette themselves. Years of experience avoided that type of mistake.
Dawn broke and for the first time Salvo and the men were able to see the Rebels and get a final read on what they were up against. Several men in shorts and tattered t-shirts came out of the building that served as sleeping quarters. It was made of grey cinder blocks and a metal roof. Three windows were spaced along the wall. Most of the dwellings constructed by locals involved mud, clay and thatch. It was an obvious sign of status and wealth to have a firm mason construction in Africa. The men gathered around the front door and began smoking. Dagga, or marijuana, was more popular than tobacco and could be gathered for free. Salvo noted that this was a good thing. The more loaded they were, the slower their reflexes would be. He doubted they used much khat, the African amphetamine unless they were gearing up for a fight.
The men had the standard Chinese AK-47 either slung over their shoulder or laid down beside them. Through his 10x scope, he could make out their faces. The high powered scope could become a liability if he engaged a target at under three hundred meters. If a target moved laterally at all, they would move out of sight. He felt better having it than not having it. If things went wrong and they had to make a hasty retreat, they could keep a lot of distance between them and the enemy.
They were young, probably not a one of them over twenty. More men started filtering out after an older man came out of the trailer used as an office and shouted into the barracks. Salvo spoke French and a smattering of Swahili but he couldn’t hear if it was either of those. As he and Kruger had discussed, the intelligence on who they were fighting was not up to standards. This job didn’t demand it but his years of elite training did.
Some of the men did not carry rifles and had heavier work clothing on. His count was up to 35 men. He had identified two men who were definitely in charge of the operation. Suddenly an order was given for the men to fall into ranks. The two leaders stood in front and those who had rifles held them at high port and the others stood at attention. The larger of the two men paced back and forth across the ranks. The men in formation shouted in unison. Their voices could be heard faintly by Bravo. They did this two more times, then were dismissed.
All of Bravo took note of this as some sort of organization. It was likely that they were being given their morning pep talk and motivation for the day. This type of thing could be as innocent as a morning meeting at a Wal-Mart or a sign that they had some formal training.
When they broke ranks, some went back into the barracks and about ten of them went to one of the supply buildings and pulled out crates. They opened them and began handing out packages similar to MRE’s. With a focused look, Salvo could see the UN markings on the crate. The UN feeding the Rebels. How poetic, he thought. The men took their breakfast and threw their garbage into a pile on the ground. Though there were places that could serve as trash bins, they just tossed them into a growing pile of shit. He knew a disciplined Military unit would not do that.
About half the men took up their AK’s and moved along the outside perimeter of the fence looking at the ground. Most people who grew up outside the city in Africa were natural trackers. As they made their way around the back the team tensed up. Four of them went into the dry river bed and walked in both directions. It was a good call to stay out of it. They were still six hundred meters away. They all prayed they wouldn’t cross the river and check the game trail. Fortunately, they weren’t that ambitious.
Inside the compound the men started up several pieces of machinery. Earth movers, crushers and the bucket wheel excavator. The day continued as you would see in a normal mining operation. Dirt was excavated, rocks crushed and sifted. A dozen or so men had hammers and broke open the rock. They washed the rocks with well water and flushed the talings hoping to find gold. When they found their pieces, they were collected by a man with an AK slung over his shoulder and a bucket. The day continued uninterrupted.
******
Kruger and Taylor watched much of the same type of activity from their hide. Both of them were looking for the same things, trying to evaluate the enemy. Half of the men worked and the other were security. Kruger had seen these types of Rebels since his days in the RLI. They carried rifles and were not afraid to pull the trigger but folded easily under sustained, well organized fire.
He remembered many times in the waning days of the Rhodesian Bush War being called out on Fire Force and engaging the trapped terrorists. When a few were shot dead, others began to run, throwing down their rifles and peeling off layers of clothing that would identify them with the terrorists. It usually ended badly for them regardless. A key element for the Fire Force were the stop groups. One element pushing the Terr’s to the men who would cut them down as they fled. Armed or unarmed, they were enemy combatants running from the scene.
If any of the Terrs escaped, a Combat Tracker unit would be called in and try to pick up their trails. In their war, an escaped Terrorist would be back again another day. Often the Trackers would follow for hours to regain contact. As the war grew more brutal, the chase usually ended up with the death of the fleeing men. Unless they were ordered to capture an enemy and turn them over to Military Intelligence, they were disposed of even if they surrendered. They had been taught to surrender and take advantage of the civilized European mindset. Many a man shed his kit and rifle and presented himself for surrender where he believed he would receive food and be treated decently. With their backs to the wall, the Rhodesians played for keeps.
Studying the layout of the compound, the front contained the barracks, offices and storage buildings. On the backside were the small mountains of tailings. That left the Rebels in the wide open. He estimated that the gate was around one hundred and fifty meters from the tailings. Security was tight around the gate. The key would be getting inside and ready before they were alerted that an assault was taking place. If they could penetrate the gate in the pre- dawn hours, they could just allow the men to funnel out of their barracks and mow them down. Clear the area and move to the second objective.
