The anchor’s face returned, and in a calm, reassuring voice, he read a statement by the British foreign minister, speaking after a particularly noisy question period in the House of Commons.
“Britain remains committed to intervention in South Africa, both as a way of protecting our extensive commercial interests in the region, and to ensure that a democratic government is created, one that can end the frightful bloodshed now under way.”
Looking up from his script, the anchor let a little excitement creep into his voice.
“Meanwhile, the buildup continues.”
CHAPTER
Gauntlet
DECEMBER 12-VOORTREKKER HEIGHTS MILITARY CAMP
Commandant Henrik Kruger’s bungalow still showed signs of the damage it had suffered during the American attack on Pelindaba. Rough plaster patches covered cracks in every wall, and sheets of plastic were tacked over empty window frames. His standard-issue furniture hadn’t come through in any better shape. Thick pieces of canvas now covered a small sofa and three high-backed chairs whose upholstery had been torn to pieces by flying glass and steel splinters.
Brig. Deneys Coetzee paused in the doorway and made a show of carefully surveying his surroundings.
“What a pigsty, Henrik! You’d be more comfortable living in a tent or inside your Ratel!”
“Perhaps I would. ” Kruger smiled briefly and then glanced over Coetzee’s shoulder. None of his “trusted” junior officers were in sight. Good. He motioned the older man inside and shut the door behind him.
By the time he turned around, the brigadier had already
“7
doffed his peaked officer’s cap and plopped himself down on the closest chair.
“We’re alone?”
“Yes.” Kruger felt it might be better not to mention Ian Sheffield’s presence in the room next door. What Coetzee didn’t know, he couldn’t be forced to reveal if the security forces chose to interrogate him.
As always, the shorter man came straight to the point.
“You’re about to receive new orders-marching orders.”
Kruger nodded. He’d been expecting that for some time now. His battalion hadn’t suffered many casualties during the American air and commando raid-just a few wounded and even fewer dead. True, they were still short of heavy weapons and APCs, but so was almost every other Army unit. And with South Africa being invaded from every direction, keeping a veteran unit such as the 20th Cape Rifles sitting immobile and useless outside
Pretoria made less and less sense with every passing day. If anything, he was surprised that it had taken General de Wet and his incompetent toadies this long to reach that conclusion.
Coetzee looked him straight in the eye.
“You and your men are being sent north tomorrow. To fight the Cubans.”
“I see.” Again, that wasn’t very surprising. He and most of his men had been born and bred in the Cape Province. Even Karl Vorster wasn’t crazy or foolish enough to trust soldiers to put down a rebellion in their own homeland.
Coetzee shook his head sadly.
“No, I don’t think that you do see, Henrik.
You and your battalion are still under suspicion. There are some at the
Ministry who believe your troops failed in their duty during the American attack on Pelindaba. “
Kruger’s temper flared.
“What in God’s name was I supposed to do? Order my men out into the open so they could be bombed with greater ease? We were under continuous air attack! Would de Wet’s boot lickers be happier if we’d been slaughtered like Peiper and his sixty-first?”
His friend grinned cynically.
“Probably. Don’t forget Peiper is being mourned as a hero of the Afrikaner people. An incompetent hero perhaps, but a blery hero nonetheless.”
“Good Christ.” Kruger fought to regain control over his anger. Weeks and months of frustration and pent-up rage threatened to’ boil over in seconds. He spoke tightly through clenched teeth. “if we are under such suspicion, why are they even willing to trust us in combat against the Cubans?”
“You’re not going to be trusted, man. You’re going to be used.” Coetzee opened his briefcase and handed him two photocopied sets of orders.
“Read those.”
Kruger obeyed. One was addressed to the head of the Far North Military
Command. The other had been sent to the officer commanding the SADF’s
Logistics Branch. Both were signed by Gen. Adriaan de Wet himself. And both contained instructions effectively sentencing his seven hundred officers and men to death.