The Soldier who Said No by Chris Marnewick Read Free Book Online

work their new masters required of them. More crude explosive devices were detonated, but now by more sophisticated bombers. Opponents were shot or strangled or eliminated by the necklace method and buried in shallow graves or cremated over open fires.
    Something needed to be done.
    Some chose to meet force with force. Within the military establishment a covert structure developed and gained stature, a third force of sorts, bridging the gap between the regular police and army. Malcontent generals, disgraced policemen, foot soldiers with a lust for killing, a Minister of State or two who shared their lack of restraint. This third force also had back-up in many civilian disciplines – journalists, lawyers, electronic engineers and medical specialists from a range of disciplines who identified with their cause and their methods. The third force had large amounts of cash which they kept in foreign bank accounts in the name of dummy companies. Their reach was unlimited. They did their work under the cover of the media blackout and the protection the state of emergency provided. Assassinations in Paris, Lusaka and Pretoria, killing those they deemed a threat, including clergymen, doctors and nurses. Operations in London, under the nose of MI 5 and the CIA . Strikes into Mozambique, Lesotho and Swaziland, bombing safe houses. Letter bombs destroying limbs and eyes. Crude murders, forcing their victims to undress and dig their own graves before shooting them in the back of the head.
    In Zimbabwe the transition to a democratic government based on universal franchise appeared to be working, but its President was providing support in word and deed to the external forces seeking to overthrow the South African government. This was a bitter pill to swallow for those who still thought of him as a terrorist. Three times their efforts to assassinate him had been thwarted.
    The preparations had begun less than a month earlier. First De Villiers and Verster were placed on special leave. Then they were given detailed briefings and contingency planning at a secret location in a suburb in the north of Pretoria, out of sight of the regular SADF in the south of the city. When the planning had been completed, they were taken to a private shooting range next to a village called Swartwater three hundred and fifty kilometres north of Pretoria. Swartwater wasn’t a town. It didn’t even have electricity except for the primary school’s generator. There was also a contingent of soldiers billeted at the school. They had marched from the school to the shooting range to stand guard as De Villiers and Verster tested the weapon.
    When they saw the weapon, De Villiers and Verster had objected simultaneously. The weapon was over two metres long and weighed nearly thirty kilograms. ‘How do you expect us to lug that thing fifty kilometres to the ops site and make our escape with it?’ Verster had asked.
    They were in a military tent under a very large baobab tree. The rostrum of the shooting range was less than thirty metres away. In the distance De Villiers could see the earthen berms behind the target pits, at two hundred metre intervals, from two to six hundred metres.
    An ARMSCOR man had assembled the weapon, saying, ‘It’s quite nifty. It breaks down into two parts and fits into two special backpacks, one for the weapon receiver section and the other for the barrel and the ammunition. It takes three rounds.’
    ‘And that’s another thing,’ De Villiers had said. ‘The magazine. If it takes only three rounds, it’s not going to be of any use if we should get into a firefight.’
    The ARMSCOR man had shrugged his shoulders, leaving the explanation to the military.
    ‘I’m General van den Bergh and I’m in charge of this operation,’ a man in mufti had announced.
    He spoke with military emphasis, stressing every word. ‘You will each carry an AK and ammunition. You will carry only three of the special rounds and you will bring the weapon back