Night of the Black Bastards (An Action-Packed Thriller) Page 13

  “How many men in our Fire Force General?”

  “Eighteen men Nickolai but not ordinary men, 18 elite operators, the best of the best. Six men from Mike Romeo - we know their combat credentials are exceptional - and six handpicked Taakies. I am good friends with the STF Commander and I can get the men, no problem. Then the four of us plus two more, any suggestions?”

  Taakies is the Afrikaans nickname given to the operators of the South African Police Special Task Force (SAPS STF). The Special Task Force is the Special Operations element of the South African Police Force.

  The STF has a formidable reputation in counter terrorism and insurgency and hostage rescue. Unlike most civilian/police counter terrorist units around the world, the special task force is also trained to conduct military special operations and has done so on many occasions, operating with their military counterparts, especially during the long 30 year border war. They are internationally regarded as deadly exponents in the art of bush warfare. A fact worth mentioning is that during the 70s and 80s, during the border war, many British SAS volunteered for selection, many passed and consequently served in the South African Special Forces.

  The basic training course is 26 weeks long and includes weapons, rural and urban combat as well as basic parachute training courses. Compulsory advanced courses include special skills such as diving and VIP protection, explosives and medical training. The total initial training period is nine months, but completing all the requisite advanced courses to become a full-fledged Special Task Force operational member may last up to three years.

  The STF is widely considered to be among the best of such units in the world. And many veteran South African police and army operatives and security contractors regard the STF as the best special forces unit on earth. Testament to this belief is that unlike any other hostage rescue element in the world the Special Task Force has never lost the life of a single hostage in over 20 years of existence, carrying out hundreds of successful operations and rescues.

  “Guys from my former Commando Unit” said Night, “would love a piece of this action but I assume you don’t want any currently serving army men?”

  “Yes, no infantry on this op.”

  “Then I would suggest two from Yankee then, Snyman, he’s a hard bastard and former Mil as well and one of his, he should be game, after all it was one of his Rooks that was killed last week by uSathane.”

  “Okay I will get in touch with him and get a feel for his mood and potential interest.”

  “But 18 versus 24 are not military odds General, we should have more men than our enemy, surely, this is a basic principle of war is it not?”

  “Yes but the fewer men we have to pull in on this operation the better, from an OP-SEC (Operational Security) point of view, fewer leaks, anyway I want to make this an elite operation with only bona fide master craftsmen on our side and besides we shall have some aces up our sleeves.”

  “Pray tell General.”

  “Two Casspirs and a Chopper.”

  The Casspir is a landmine-protected personnel carrier (APC) that has been in use in South Africa for over 30 years. It is a four-wheeled armoured vehicle, used for transport of troops. It can hold a crew of two, plus 12 additional soldiers and associated gear. The Casspir was unique in design when launched, providing for passive mine defence. The main body of the vehicle is V-shaped and raised above the ground, so that if a mine is detonated, the explosion is less likely to damage the crew compartment and kill the occupants. The cross-section of the hull is V-shaped, directing the force of the explosion outwards, further protecting the occupants. The vehicle is also armoured for added mine safety, as well as protection from small arms fire.

  The name 'Casspir' is an anagram of the abbreviations of the customer, the South African Police (SAP), and the design company, Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR).

  “Now it’s winnable” said Sergeant Night with a grin of satisfaction. “Now we would be unstoppable, even if uSathane used his preferred dynamite against us the Casspirs would hold. And the chopper could provide air fire support and CASEVAC (Casualty Evacuation) ”

  “Indeed.”

  “Operationally it looks like a solid plan, it could work, if you can deliver the men, the Casspirs and the Chopper and of course if you can get the green light.”

  “I will and I can.”

  The three men sat still for a moment, finishing their final drinks for the night.

  “This is about the gold isn’t it Amos?” said Night.

  “Partly. Yes, it’s about the gold and the financial reward we can all, legally gain, by completing this tasking under a private banner. It could be the launch pad for World Net. But it’s also a golden opportunity to eliminate uSathane and rid this world of him, to kill him and his men, no red tape, no bullshit, no courts, no media, no rioting and no lawyers. For the moment though this is all hypothetical until I get the go ahead from the suits, from Pretoria.”

  “So what do we do while we wait for the answer General? Zulu will be restless and perhaps difficult to calm unless we keep him busy.”

  “I have thought of that. You know the new recruits for this year, the new intake from the police college, well Norwood has six new Student Constables joining and they will need training and I do believe that you are still the station’s lead FTO (Field Training Officer).”

  “I am but the intake is not for another three weeks.”

  “I have brought the intake forward by three weeks. The new recruits arrive on Monday. Captain Gerhard Van Der Merwe will meet you at the Norwood Barracks Gym at 0800 on Monday, he will be with the six Student Constables.”

  Sergeant Night leaned back in his seat, contemplating this news.

  “Training the rooks, hmmm okay sounds good, I always enjoy getting back to basics and preparing the new fish. It will keep us busy and take our minds, Zulu’s mind, off of uSathane for just long enough for us to know the next move.”

  The General’s attitude modulated to matter of fact business. “Now let’s get out of here I have a lot of preparing to do for Monday.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The three men left the Radium Beerhall. Nickolai Stanislov got into his VW Golf and went home. Michael Night gave the General a lift to his beautiful house in Hyde Park, a very wealthy suburb in Johannesburg, though a more accurate description of the General’s home would be to call it a mansion. Night opened the grand automatic gates to the General’s household with the remote Control that the General had given him some months before and drove up the long driveway, passing the tennis courts on his right hand side. Night pulled up to the imposing main entrance and the General got out and invited Night in for a night cap. Night politely refused and made his way home to his Spartan single man’s police flat in the Norwood Police Barracks.

  He wanted the time alone. To drive and to hear the purr of his Lumina’s V8 on the almost empty Johannesburg streets while listening to Paul Van Dyk’s progressive trance tunes playing softly on the car’s audio system and process the precise junction in his life which he had now reached. He had taken on private jobs as a bodyguard and security contractor many times before. He had looked after politicians and celebrities, royalty and corporate giants, battered wives and threatened businessmen but he had always been able to put that work into a box, separate and secondary to his work as a police officer.

  In his mind he was always a police officer first, then a contractor. But as life happens and as the years go by the realities of making money and building a future for himself and the people he loved were becoming more of a pressing matter. He too had dreams that he wanted to fulfil but on a South African Police Sergeant’s salary he could hardly afford to buy the extra tactical equipment he sometimes needed. Only since Night started to take on private jobs, through the General, was he able to enjoy the little luxuries in life, including the car he now drove. His beloved SS.

  He had declared his extra money making activities to police national headquarters as is pre
scribed procedure for any permanent police officer and had permission granted to continue such activities. And until recently he was able to keep the two worlds separate but now things were changing for Michael Night, he could feel it.

  In fact he had begun to feel a change in his heart over a year earlier while on patrol in the golf course suburb of Linksfield North. He had realised that day that there was very little, if any, economic balance in Johannesburg and that the divide between the haves and have nots was gargantuan. There he was sat in a police patrol Bakkie (pickup truck), commonly referred to as a “cheese-van” by members of the force because it is, for which no other words are adequate, a pathetic police vehicle, sat in the passenger seat with an R5 assault rifle between his legs with full level IIII body armour on, struggling to breathe and perspiring heavily from the sweltering 37 degree Celsius South African heat, protecting people who lived behind six foot walls and electric fencing, who owned three family vehicles and five bedroomed houses with swimming pools and tennis courts.

  Yet the young student constable he was now training was on a salary of less than R3500 a month, about £300. That day, for some reason, it struck him how absurd the system was. And for the life of him he couldn’t understand why he didn’t tell the young student constable there and then to do something more lucrative with his life and explain that in this world no one pays to have a police officer protect them. And that ultimately making money is more important than saving lives, in this society, in the 21st century of greed and rapacious banks and bankers. Become a banker or a lawyer, he wanted to tell the aspiring officer, you may go to hell when you die and you may screw other people over while making your money but at least you will be able to provide for yourself and look after your family. He wanted to tell the young SC maybe you will even be able to live your dreams if you put down the badge and pick up the briefcase.

  He didn’t though, because Michael Night loved what he did as a police officer, he loved protecting the weak and innocent from the strong and evil. That was true for most South African police officers and police officers from all over the world, they become policemen because it is more than just a job. Being a police officer is a calling. And in a better world it could have been the greatest job of all. Except in this realm money matters and how much of it you make, matters. And police officers, in South Africa at least, make no money at all – people living in the United Kingdom can make ten times as much money per month as a South African Constable just on hand outs, on benefits, without working, without saving lives and without serving anyone or anything except themselves.

  Taking down uSathane under the World Net banner as a private security operative could be the official start of a transition from Law Enforcement Officer to Defence Contractor for Night. And under World Net he could start to finally earn enough money to begin to live his dreams, to travel the world and make a difference albeit clandestinely for he knew the General did not acquire his untold wealth through traditional means alone.

  He knew the General was involved in Private Military Defence Contracts across the continent and had been instrumental in the downfall of more than one African dictator and the eradication of some of the most brutal insurgents in Africa. Night knew that the General was a predominant force in the war on terror in Africa.

  What Stanislov didn’t know when he questioned Night earlier on in the evening was that Night himself had his own sources of Intelligence, how could he not, a large number of the men contracting throughout Africa were friends of his or friends of friends.

  Night had also attended a number of dinner parties at the General’s residence where numerous members of the South African government had been present as well as the heads of state of over a dozen African countries. Nothing extraordinary was ever said at these black tie events, at which Night would actually work as a close protection operative when he needed the extra cash, under the General’s employ, although the General always preferred Night to attend as a guest. The predominant theme that Night always picked up was that of increasing Africa’s influence internationally through what he often heard referred to as “more modern means.”

  The more immediate attraction of killing uSathane and his ZNA Platoon of disciples as a Contractor was the chance to do it as part of a unit of men that would truly be an ultimate fighting force. The members of Mike Romeo were all former 32 Battalion men.

  32 Battalion was a special light infantry battalion of the South African Army, composed of black and white commissioned and enlisted personnel. It was also known as the Buffalo Battalion or The Terrible Ones, founded in 1975 by a Colonel in the South African Special Forces Brigade. It was disbanded on 26 March 1993 at the request of the African National Congress prior to the elections in 1994.

  But the true pull for Michael Night would be to operate alongside men of the South African Police Special Task Force. After leaving the South African Army Commando Unit and joining the South African Police the one organisation that Night had desired joining or at least trying out for selection was the Special Task Force. The selection and training period was nine months.

  Phase One is four weeks in duration and is designed to build stamina in the men, not a pointless exercise but to prepare already fit and healthy men, numbering around 20, who have been selected from around 500 applicants for their advanced fitness among other important attributes, for perhaps the most gruelling Special Forces selection phase on earth called Vasbyt, Afrikaans for BITE DOWN HARD.

  This means marching the men for 200 kilometres or 125 miles over four days without sustenance or slumber, subjecting the wannabe Taakies to advanced sleep deprivation and incredible hunger while carrying 50 kilograms or 110 pounds on their shoulders by way of a chunk of railway track and chain and ball, purposely designed to be difficult to carry.

  This for instance is in comparison to the British Army’s SAS Phase One Final Endurance test known as The Long Drag where the men are made to march 40 miles or 64 kilometres carrying a weight of 55 pounds or 25 kilograms. The hardest and strongest of the police officers who actually pass Vasbyt then undergo another seven months of basic Task Force training and must take an advanced Special Forces course for a further three years before they are fully fledged members of the STF and are allowed to wear the Military Style police uniform and the highly coveted unit insignia.

  By 2005 the reputation of the men of the South African Special Task Force as extreme combat operators had become well known globally and over 80 per cent of its active members had been recruited by private security companies and military contractors from all over the world to work in Iraq and Afghanistan, the Middle East, Asia and Africa.

  Night had been invited to try out for selection, a rare occurrence, by the Unit’s Commander Colonel Jacob Luthuli at the beginning of the year. He had respectfully declined the offer as he didn’t want to make the commitment. He didn’t want to pledge to another three years in the force, not at this point in his life, not with thoughts of travelling the world and moving to London forming in his mind and now with the opportunity to do so seemingly possible.

  For the moment he relished the thought of working within the World Net element alongside his brothers Daniel Shaka and Nickolai Stanislov with men of the Police’s Special Task Force and the Army’s 32 Battalion. They would be a frightening proposition to any enemy anywhere in the world in any platform, urban, jungle or bush. And against uSathane in a desert battlefield that promised an old school colossal firefight, no heavy weaponry, no smart bombs, no planes, no unmanned drones or guided ballistic missiles, it would be a gunfight that made life worth living, in Night’s opinion, or indeed worth dying for.

  Michael Night had made up his mind. He was in, all in. Against uSathane and ready to take on new challenges with the General and under the private firm of World Net.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Training Days

  “You have never lived until you have almost died. And for those who fight for it and risked all, life has a flavour that the protecte
d and sheltered will never know.” Originally attributed to John Stuart Mill or an unknown soldier of the Vietnam war, adapted many times and said often by serving men and women in armed forces around the world and by members of the South African Police Force.

  “Shark Shit, you are all officially of the rank of Shark Shit, get it people? Shark Shit, all of you!”

  So boomed the heavy Afrikaans accented voice of Captain Gerhard Van Der Merwe of the South African Police College Training Division. He was addressing the six Student Constables who stood on parade in front of him in two lines of three in the Norwood Barracks Gym, Section Four.

  The Gym was the pride of the Norwood Police Station and resembled something you would expect to find in a Hollywood movie. It was built and donated to the station five years previously by an anonymous benefactor and kept going by voluntary contributions from portions of the officers’ salaries across Johannesburg. It is manned voluntarily by members of the Force when off duty. The Gym is so popular, and rare in SA, among men of the South African Police Force that it serves the entire Gauteng area. It is split into four main sections. Section One is devoted to bodybuilding and houses modern gym machines and free weights. This is where the Black Bastards spent the majority of their time while in the barracks gymnasium.

  Zulu held the gym’s, and perhaps the country’s, police record for the heaviest bench-press of 300 kilograms, he could probably do more but the gym didn’t have the professional powerlifting equipment to add more weight to the already struggling bar and bench.

  Section Two is devoted to cardiovascular training and contains all the necessary apparatus such as rowing and cycling machines. The Black Bastards avoided Section Two as much as they could.