“The West gladly suffered our existence for forty years. The communists attacked us verbally and sent black guerrillas to terrorize us, but they did not move openly. Behind the scenes, the Soviets were very happy to make joint agreements on gold and diamond sales.”
De Wet and the others nodded, a little impatiently.
Vorster continued, “As long as the gold and platinum and chromium and all the rest were produced in steady stream, the world was happy. But at the first sign of trouble in the mines, they turned on us. The world’s two biggest power blocs, with everyone else cheering them on, have attacked our nation-nearly tripping over each other in their greed. “
Vorster smiled again, even more grimly this time.
“So what we must do is clear. We must threaten to destroy what they hold so dear. We will send an ultimatum to our enemies, threatening to render these mines useless unless they leave our lands immediately.”
De Wet’s puzzlement was so strong that he forgot to mask his feelings, but his expression was mirrored around the table.
Vorster swept his arm around the room, his voice filled with excitement.
“Can’t any of you see it? Think! The world’s financial markets have been frightened by a temporary disruption of the resources we hold. Think of how much pressure those money-grubbing bankers will put on their governments if they think the supply will stop altogether.”
De Wet could not wait any longer.
“But how? We can dynamite some of our mines, but they could always be reopened. And most are nothing more than vast open pits impossible to destroy.”
Vorster nodded.
“True enough, General. But the answer is not dynamite.
It is radioactive dust-the wastes produced by our reactors.” If he noticed the instinctive horror on the faces around him, he didn’t show it.
“Our threat will be simple and credible. Unless the attacking armies cease fire immediately and withdraw from our territory, we will scatter radioactive waste over every mine and smelter under our control.”
De Wet found himself intrigued by the idea. The highlevel radioactive wastes produced by South Africa’s two nuclear reactors could contaminate the surfaces of the mines and other industrial facilities for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Decontamination would be both fantastically difficult and prohibitively expensive. What Vorster had in mind would be a powerful threat to the world’s strategic minerals supplies.
De Wet looked up.
“But what do we do, Mr. President, if they call our bluff?”
Vorster’s face reddened and he shouted, “It is not a bluff! If they continue to advance, we will wreck these mines!”
He paused and spoke more calmly, almost pleading.
“Don’t you see? We have never truly needed this wealth to survive as a pure society. It has been a source of endless trouble-of
Uitlander speculators and unruly black laborers. The trek boers and early farmers built our nation. And when these mines are gone, our farms will remain.”
De Wet nodded slowly in agreement. The South Africa they all knew was dying anyway. Perhaps it was better to rob their enemies of the fruits of victory than to go down to defeat whimpering in despair. He started, suddenly aware that Vorster was speaking directly to him.
“General, I need every engineer you can muster, and a list of every mine we still possess.”
De Wet nodded, turned to his officers, and started issuing the orders needed to prepare South Africa’s economic suicide.
CHAPTER
Acceleration
JANUARY 6-HEADQUARTERS, ALLIED EXPEDITIONARY FORCE, DURBAN
Lt. Gen. Jerry Craig held two message slips in his hand. One read, Do not believe Vorster has political control or resources to carry out his threat. Recommend continuing offensive operations.
The second telex said, Expert consultants have advised us that Vorster’s claim is credible. Suggest you halt operations and use time to consolidate position until way is found to clear demolitions from mine sites.
One was from CIA, the other from the State Department. The third message he’d received was the one that counted ostensibly a secure voice call from the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but actually reflecting the
President’s own opinion. Ten minutes of talk that boiled down to, “We rely on your estimate of the situation and will back whatever judgment you make. ” Well, he would have resented anything else, but it still left him the man on the spot.
Every senior and junior staff officer in the Allied head812
quarters packed the briefing room. Officers of two nationalities and every service filled the chairs and lined the walls. Christ, Craig thought, I don’t know half of these people. And that bothered him. Part of the problem of holding higher level command was that you had to rely on the abilities of men and women you would never know as more than slots filled in on an organization chart.
As more and more officers streamed in, Craig sat, conferring with Skiles and the division commanders. There were always operational matters to discuss, and he was so wrapped up in the 24this supply situation that he almost didn’t feel the tap on his shoulder. Sergeant Major Bourne loomed over him, tall, barrel-chested, and every inch the Marine’s Marine.
“Sir, it’s time.”
Craig glanced at his watch.
“Thank you, Sergeant Major.
He glanced behind him at the packed room and listened to the near-deafening buzz of conversation. He knew what they were talking about. Any headquarters was a rumor mill, and Vorster’s last-ditch threat had provided fertile ground for speculation. Some of the rumors about planned Allied action were entertaining, others were just flat-out wrong.
“Let’s get things rolling.”
Bourne nodded and strode to the front of the room, facing the assembled group. Ignoring the microphone on the podium nearby, he called in a parade-ground bellow, “Attention on deck! “
The voices stopped as if turned off by a light switch, replaced by the momentary thunder of hundreds of boots hitting the floor.
Craig strode up to the podium and turned to scan the erect, silent crowd-a sea of upturned faces.
“Seats, ladies and gentlemen. “
He paused while they settled in again. Then he started, careful to keep his voice hard, incisive, and confident. This was a pep talk more than a briefing. Some commanders forgot that staff morale was sometimes just as important as front line morale. He wasn’t one of them.
“You’ve all heard Vorster’s promise to destroy the mines if we don’t withdraw unconditionally from South Africa. A
threat that he’s made to the Cubans as well.” Craig nodded toward Skiles and the rest of his immediate staff.
“I want you to know that we are taking him seriously, although I admit that can be hard to do at times.”
That prompted a light wave of laughter. Vorster’s nickname at headquarters was Gonzo. Good. Everyone’s attitude had been a little too grim for his liking.
Craig let the laugh die away before continuing. He wanted every man and woman in the room to hear exactly what he had to say next.
“Serious or not, I don’t intend to let this bastard slow us down. We will continue to advance as far and as fast as we can. Right now, our forces have the momentum-to stop now and try to regain that momentum later would cost time and lives I will not waste.”
He studied the faces in front of him. They looked serious and grimly determined. Good.
“Frankly, Vorster’s political situation seems so unstable that we’re not sure he can persuade his own military to go along with this demolition threat. There’s a maxim of warfare that you tend to overestimate an enemy’s
