“We can only conclude that it is a last-ditch effort, sir. We are much closer to Pretoria than the Americans, and the Boers have always put the bulk of their forces in against us. The American front to the south has been quiet in the last few days. It may be that they have run into the same kind of supply problems we have faced, but their supply-hungry army cannot operate as well on short rations.
“My assessment is that they have been stripping the American front of every unit they can, and especially after our victory last night, have committed their national reserves from Pretoria. “
The general said, “Other possibilities?”
“I see none, sir. We had very good information on their strengths before we started the war, and there are simply no other units left. If we don’t include the units fighting the Americans and British, this brigade is the last major South African force in existence.”
“Then let’s start planning. If we can organize another night attack, concentrating on only. one portion of the brigade, we can do to them what we did to that battalion last night.” Vega’s voice was full of energy, and it galvanized the entire staff. They could take on a dug-in force almost as large as their own, and win.
Vega and his officers were clustered around the map, trying to take it apart and visualize the terrain, when the radio operator interrupted them.
“Sir, one of the scouts reports a jeep moving north from Temba under a white flag.”
Vega, already deep in his element, took this development as one more piece of a very interesting puzzle. What could the Boers want from him?
What was in the commander’s mind?
“Halt them at the edge of our defenses, but do not molest them,” Vega ordered.
The general grabbed his hat and battered uniform coat.
“Come on,” he said.
“I will not meet the Boers in the middle of a bookstore. We will meet them at our front lines.”
The party climbed into a GAZ jeep and drove south at high speed. An escorting party of soldiers barely had time to pile into another and follow them.
The road south to Temba cut through a line of low hills, the same ones that had held the Boer defenders but now held Cuban soldiers.
The command group approached the spot, and Vega noticed a strange-looking vehicle parked under one of the few trees in the area. It was an American jeep, neatly painted in sand and green colors. A small knot of men lounged or sat in the vehicle, under extremely heavy guard.
As their own jeep neared the scene, the men stood up and appeared to be speaking to each other. ‘the circle of guards tightened, as if to prevent any sudden treachery.
Vega’s group was now close enough to see them clearly, and his mask of calm was nearly shattered by the sights of not only a South African officer, but what looked like American and British officers as well. What in the world were they doing here? Witnesses? Observers?
Regaining control, he stepped out as the jeep slowed to a stop and then waited patiently as his staff also climbed out and assembled themselves.
He let Vasquez take the lead, and they crossed the ten meters or so to where the enemy officers stood, waiting. Vasquez spoke English, and so would act as interpreter. Vega spoke only Spanish and Russian.
The colonel approached the South African, who appeared to be a brigadier, or one-star general.
“I have the honor to be Colonel Jaume Vasquez of the
Cuban Revolutionary Ground Forces. I would like to present General
Antonio
Vega, supreme commander of the Socialist Armies in Africa.” Vega nodded politely.
The South African returned Vasquez’s salute, although he managed to do it in such a way that the colonel could feel the man’s hatred. The brigadier’s tone was cold, and stiff, and the clipped English only accented his anger.
“I am Brigadier Deneys Coetzee, chief of staff of the
South African Defense Forces and provisional head of the South African government. “
Vasquez’s reaction was so obvious that Coetzee smiled. They’d had no idea. News of Vorster’s fall had been suppressed, easy to do in the tightly controlled media Vorster’s regulations had created. That had given Coetzee and the Americans valuable time to consolidate, and more importantly, to prepare a rude surprise for the Cubans.
Coet/ee allowed the colonel just enough time to translate this introduction for Vega before introducing the other two men.
“This is
Major General Samuel Weber of the United States Army, and Colonel Nigel
Moore, of the British Army. “
Vega as well as Vasquez recognized Weber’s name from the intelligence reports. He commanded the American 24th Mechanized Division. Late reports had placed it on National Route 3, fighting its way north toward
Johannesburg. Vega felt a wave of cold creeping up his spine.
Coetzee spoke again.
“Tell your general that the South African government has ceased hostilities with the American and British governments and has now asked for their assistance in repelling the communist forces that have invaded our territory. “
Vasquez bristled slightly, but translated the sentence. Vega maintained his impassive expression, but from the expressions of the rest of his staff, the information hit home.
Vega said, “Ask him what happened to Vorster. ” Vasquez translated the question.
Coetzee replied, “That is none of your business, but since it will soon be public knowledge, we can tell you that he is under arrest and will soon be indicted, under South African law, on several counts of murder.”
When this was translated, Vega’s cold chill now turned his heart into a block of ice. He could almost feel it in his throat. Vorster would never have made peace with the Americans. He was ready to destroy his country before he’d loosen his grip. If Vorster was really gone, then the
Americans and British had a free hand.
The American walked two steps forward, facing Vasquez. Weber said, “I’m not going to mince words. If your intelligence people are on the job at all, you know who I am.” Without thinking, Vasquez nodded.
Jerking his thumb back behind him, Weber said, “I’ve already deployed a full battalion of M-1 tanks in that town back there, and I’m bringing up another two battalions of one of my brigades sometime soon. I won’t tell you boys exactly when, but you can assume the worst.”
He leaned closer to Vasquez, so that they were almost nose to nose.
“The other two brigades will be along presently.” He pointed to the British officer.
“That gentlemen there also has some units he controls, and there are other officers that couldn’t make it to this little meeting. Vaquez noted in passing that the British officer wore a red beret, which could only mean that he commanded a battalion of paratroopers.
“In short, Colonel, you tell your general back there that instead of facing a divided South African Army, he faces the combined forces of
South Africa, Britain, and the United States.”
Vasquez started to translate, but Weber cut him off.
“And tell General
Vega that we are fresh as fucking daisies. I’ve been fighting South
Africans for a while, and I haven’t enjoyed it too much. Now that
Vorster’s been taken care of, I’d love to kick some Cuban ass.”
Vasquez, controlling his temper, transmitted a paraphrase of Weber’s speech to Vega, which even in summary caused him to drop his mask of detachment and take one step toward the American.
Coetzee said, “We offer you these terms: Withdraw from South African territory immediately, using the same routes you came in on. You will be escorted along the entire route, but not molested. Once you have returned to Mozambique
and Zimbabwe, you will evacuate all national forces. On the Namibian front, we will institute an immediate
