Andrew Sebe-An ANC guerrilla and member of the Broken Covenant strike force.
Matthew Sibena-A Xhosa resident of Johannesburg assigned as a driver for Ian Sheffield and Sam Knowles.
Jaime Steers-A fourteen-year-old fighting as part of the Transvaal Commando “Goetke. “
Major Chris Taylor, SADF-Executive officer of a Citizen Force infantry battalion based in Cape Town.
Emily van der Heijden-Only child of Marius van der Heijden.
Marius van der Heijden-Deputy minister, South African Ministry of Law and Order, in Vorster’s cabinet.
Colonel George von Brandis, SADF-Commanding officer of the 5th Mechanized Infantry Battalion.
Karl Vorster-South Africa’s minister of law and order and later president of the Republic of South Africa.
Corporal de Vries, SADF-Capt. Rolf Bekker’s radio operator.
General Adriaan de Wet, SADF-Chief of the South African Defense Force.
CUBANS:
Senior Captain Victor Mares, Cuban Army-Executive officer of the 8th Motor Rifle Battalion in Namibia, and later commander of the First Brigade Tactical Group’s recormaissarice battalion.
Colonel Jost~ Suarez, Cuban Army-General Vega’s chief of staff.
Colonel Jaume Vasquez, Cuban Army-General Vega’s chief of intelligence.
General Antonio Vega, Cuban Army-Commanding officer of Cuban forces in Angola and later in the South African theater.
MOZAMBICANS:
Captain Jorge de Sousa-The Mozambican officer assigned to serve as a liaison between Vega’s forces and the Mozambican Army.
BRITISH:
Major John Farwell, British Army-Commanding officer, A Company, 3rd Battalion, the Parachute Regiment.
Captain David Pryce, British Army-Troop commander, 22nd Special Air Service Regiment, attached to the Quantum assault force.
ISRAELIS:
Professor Esher Levi—An Israeli nuclear scientist familiar with South Africa’s nuclear weapons proc gram
PROLOGUE
MAY 22-THE TULI RIVER VALLEY, ZIMBABWE
The sky demons came in the dark hours before dawn.
Joshua Mksoi saw them first only as a faint flicker on the horizon and turned away without knowing what he had seen. Joshua, the youngest of his father’s four living sons, had never had any schooling and couldn’t waste time or energy in studying the black, star-studded sky or the waning moon. He had to drive his family’s cattle up the dry river valley to their grazing lands before sunrise. It was a task that had consumed every day of nearly half his short life.
The small boy trudged wearily along the trail, herding the long-homed cattle with the sound of his voice and the tip of his hardwood staff.
Cowbells clanked and jangled in the quiet night air. Everything was as it had always been.
Then the demons came-flashing close overhead with a howling roar that drove everything but fear from his mind. Joshua stood frozen in terror, sure that these monsters of darkness and air had come for his soul. He wailed aloud as
his thin, tattered shirt billowed up, caught in their clutching, sand-choked breath.
And then they were gone-fading swiftly to mere shadows before vanishing entirely.
For long seconds, the boy stood rooted in shock, waiting helplessly as his pounding heart slowed and his arms and legs stopped trembling. Then he started running, chasing frantically after the maddened cattle as they stampeded away into the darkness.
For as much as Joshua understood them, the Puma helicopters, turbine engines howling, might as well have been demons. Filled with malign intent and of fearsome appearance, they certainly fitted the definition.
And they were totally uncaring of a small boy’s fears.
It was the smallest of the many tragedies that would strike Zimbabwe that day.
STRIKE FORCE, COMMAND HELICOPTER
the lead Puma helicopter shook violently, caught in a sudden upward surge of air, and then nosed over- following the winding, northward trace of the Tuli River valley. Four other camouflaged helicopters followed in staggered trail formation. The group flew so low they were almost skimming the ground, at two hundred kilometers per hour.
Aboard the lead Puma, Rolf Belcker bounced against the shoulder straps holding him in his seat. He leaned forward and craned his head to see past the machine gunner crouching in the open door. A black, uneven landscape filled his limited view.
After a moment, he looked away from the door and sat back. He’d seen it too often in the past few years to find it very interesting.
Bekker was a tall, lean man with a rugged face. His tanned features were covered with streaked black and green camouflage paint. The African sun had bleached his short cropped blond hair almost white. His camouflage uniform carried only the three stars of a captain on twin shoulder boards and a unit patch on his right sleeve. The patch bore the emblem of South Africa’s 44th Parachute Brigade.
He pulled the Velcro cover off his watch and checked the time. Just minutes left to the LZ. Bekker looked up and met the wide-open, frightened eyes of the informer, Nkume.
The black was a tall, thin Xhosa tribesman sitting as far away from the open door as the seating arrangements would allow. He looked out of place among the fourteen heavily armed paratroopers who were the helicopter’s other passengers. He was unarmed, dressed in worn civilian clothes. The soldiers wore helmets, camouflage gear, and carried compact and deadly assault rifles. They looked very sure of themselves. Nkume did not.
The South African officer scowled. He didn’t know the black man’s full name and he didn’t care. Though he realized that the success of this mission depended in large part on this cowardly kaffir, he didn’t have to like it. Bekker’s right hand closed around the trigger guard of his rifle and he nodded to himself. If Nkume endangered the mission or
Bekker’s men in any way, the black would soon be begging for death.
The helicopter pilot’s voice filled his earphones.
“I’m in contact with the pathfinders. LZ is clear. Two minutes.”
Bekker looked back at his men and held up two fingers. As they started checking their weapons and gear one last time, he unbuckled his seat straps and moved forward to stand behind the Puma’s flight crew. He stared through the cockpit windscreen.
He would not see the landing signal. Only the copilot’s infrared goggles could spot the light marking the drop zone. Instead, he studied the terrain, a mixture of patchy grass and brush.
The copilot said, “I have it,” and pointed. Bekker held on to the doorframe as the Puma banked sharply, turning to the new heading.
They were approaching a relatively open spot, clear of scrub and hidden from their objective by a low, boulder strewn hill.
The helicopter dipped lower still and Bekker felt the jar as it touched do~vn in a swirling, rotor-blown hail of dry grass and sand. He swung round and jumped out onto the ground, followed in a rush by the rest of his men. Two more troop carriers landed seconds later, followed by the last helicopter, a gunship. Soldiers emptied out of the transports, ducking low beneath slowing, still-turning rotor blades.
