As we reached the top, chests heaving and
hearts pounding, the sounds of a fire-fight
came from below and Zulu were off again,
back down the slope. The DBR fighters were
caught off-guard and those not killed were
quickly taken cap ve and transported to
the patrol base. No transport for the patrol
though who, having linked up with two other
Patrols, made their way back on foot.
The Base Commander later said he felt the
DBR were just probing their defences and
was sure there would be something more
sustained a er dark. Interes ngly,
the fighters they captured were
not local DBR, they were from
Eastern Europe. There were also
reports of a group of Bri sh mercenaries, led
by someone called Nick Dundee. Maybe there
was more than just one story here.
One thing was obvious: the Task Force was
outnumbered, probably by as much as three
to one and I needed to find out what was
really going on. So having learnt the poten al
loca on of their base, I walked out of the FOB
alone, towards the DBR posi ons.
I have done some da things in my me,
but walking up a forest track in the semi-dark,
arms raised towards trigger-happy men armed
with Kalashnikovs had to be one of the most
stupid. Thankfully they didn’t shoot and I
was quickly placed face-down on the ground,
searched thoroughly and ques oned by a man
calling himself The Priest. I explained that I
had just arrived in Chad, wanted to write ‘the
other side of the story’ and needed to speak
with his Commander. He disappeared for a
while and when he returned I was hooded,
taken to a building and sat cross-legged on
the floor.
Eventually the hood was li ed and I found
myself face to face with Ginger!
Although reluctant to give me any details,
from their accents I guessed that Ginger
and his men were also from Eastern Europe,
possibly Poland or maybe Belarus. He spoke
good English and told me that they were
there because, “having suffered under Soviet
oppression, [they] could not stand by while
the people of Chad were also being oppressed
by an invading force,” and they would “help
free the country from oppression and return
Chad to the Chadian people.” They were
not “mercenaries, or terrorists,” they were
“freedom fighters, not figh ng for money,”
and were “being supported by local people
with food and shelter.”
He was not going to tell me where they got
their arms and ammuni on from though, but
did agree to arrange a mee ng with another
group of fighters also in the local area.
I found Ginger very persuasive but realised
that he would not hesitate to shoot me if he
felt I was a threat – something I would bear in
mind when I returned later that night, to see if
the other mee ng was to go ahead.
Understandably, the FOB Commander
was not best pleased when he learned of
my solo excursion and only agreed to me
going out again if I carried an IR locator, to be
used if I found myself ‘in the shit’. And that’s
how I ended up si ng in the building Zulu
ALL OUT WAR
Ready for action: Zu
lu
squad leader Jamez
searched, talking to a group of four Lithuanian
mercenaries.
These guys weren’t here because they
sympathised with the local popula on: theirs
was a more simple ideology – money! They
wouldn’t tell me who they were working for or
how long they had been ‘in Country’, only that
they had been contacted by an agent who was
paying them to fight. I didn’t feel threatened
and soon le for some food and a good kip.
I was woken by someone shou ng: “Stand
to! Stand to!”
The sound of automa c fire competed with
explosions. Rounds ricocheted off the walls
and I could hear Russian or Polish commands
being shouted.
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