the West’s intervention in support of the South African government.
“
As if on cue, one of the reporters surrounding him asked, “Washington has stated that it intends to remove the Vorster regime from office. Don’t both you and Washington have the same goal?”
“Washington merely intends to restore its own version of ‘law and order’ to South Africa. The socialist armies now liberating the country intend to let the people decide their new government. “
The scene changed again, this time to show Senator Travers at a podium, in front of an applauding crowd. The anchor’s voice-over said, “And at a recent fund-raising dinner for Trans Africa Senator Travers castigated the administration for involving the U.S. in a ‘dangerous foreign adventure.”
” Travers’s voice became audible as he said, “Instead of starting our own private war, we should be assisting those forces in the area that are already fighting Vorster’s regime. The cold war is dead.
If the President can’t get used to the idea of joining hands with old enemies in a common cause, then it’s time for new leadership in the White
House. ” More cheers and applause greeted his words, which faded along with the senator’s image.
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.
De Wet wanted the 20th Cape Rifles destroyed-but he wanted to make some use of its destruction. Essentially, Kruger and his men were to be thrown in front of Cuba’s advancing columns as cannon and tank fodder. Brigade commanders along the northern front were supposed to assign them to every possible dirty and dangerous mission—to place them in the most exposed defensive positions and to use them as spearheads for every suicidal counterattack. Even worse in a way, the Rifles were marked as dead last on the list of units slated to receive chemical warfare gear. De Wet wanted protection against Castro’s poisons restricted to battalions and rear-area headquarters of “proven loyalty and dependability. “
Naturally, exceptions were to be made for a certain number of junior officers and a small scattering of known AWB loyalists among the enlisted men. Kruger studied their names with some care. A thin, humorless smile flickered onto his face. It was decent of de Wet to provide him with a ready made list of those who would willingly abandon their comrades to near-certain death.
He waved the documents at Coetzee.
“I can keep these? And show them to men I can trust?”
“Yes. But don’t get caught with them. I have to pay some attention to saving my own skin, eh?” The brigadier snapped his briefcase shut and rose to his feet.
“So what will you do now, Henrik?”
Kruger pondered that for a moment. Even though he’d contemplated rebelling against Vorster’s illegal authority for months, it still felt unnatural. Helping Emily and her friends escape the security police had been a personal decision with solely personal risks. But leading his whole battalion into action against Pretoria might mean dragging several hundred others in front of a firing squad beside him.
Still, what other choice did he have? Vorster’s government had already tried and convicted his troops-men who were guilty only of being born in the wrong place. Kruger stared down at the orders he held crumpled in his hands and made his decision. He would choose the path that left some of his honor intact. He would lead the 20th
