by Larry Bond
he two congressmen nodded. One asked, “if you can’t get to Pretoria in time, why spend those lives pushing so hard?”
“Because I still need to be in Pretoria as quickly as possible. I don’t want the Cubans dug in deep.” He paused, looking at the map.
“And there’s always the uncertainty of war. 11
“And until you take Pretoria and drive the Cubans out, South Africa will be bloody chaos. “
“You now understand the situation in South Africa, Senator. “
PRESIDENT’S OFFICE, THE UNION BUILDINGS, PRETORIA
Another meeting had ended. Though perhaps meeting was the wrong word, Karl
Vorster thought wearily. Once again, he’d been forced to lecture a cabinet that resembled a flock of helpless sheep more than anything else.
Depressed and angry, he’d left his generals and deputies arguing over the map while he retreated to his private office. He slumped in his leather-backed chair, feeling his age and a few years more. None of those idiots had anything useful to contribute. Instead, they bickered and squabbled, interfering with every political and military step he took.
Some were traitors, Vorster knew. A few were actively in league with the enemy, and others would rather serve themselves than South Africa. Most of his advisors, though, were simply fools, unable to see with his vision or act with his daring. Panicked, they waffled and wailed while their nation was being shattered simultaneously both from within and from without.
Cut off from outside supply, invaded by Cuban and Allied armies, and with rebels and guerrillas running wild inside its borders, South Africa was on the verge of complete defeat.
Vorster scowled. He had no allies left. Even his most trusted political supporters counseled abject surrender.
Still, he had faith that his nation would rise again. Defeat by foreign armies was part of the Afrikaner heritage, but his people, the sturdy
Boer farmers, had always survived and ultimately triumphed. It was the farmer, the man of the earth, who had always saved South Africa.
Vorster frowned. The mines with their diamonds and gold and platinum had been a source of power, but now they were attracting the hyenas. The republic stood like a wounded lion at bay with the scavengers closing in.
The lion might put up a heroic fight, but it would fall in the end.
He glanced at the small, but beautifully detailed, map of South Africa hung on his office wall. It showed every major road, city, and industrial center. It didn’t show the territories captured by the advancing enemy armies-but it didn’t have to. Those lines were burned in his very brain.
The Cubans, the Americans, and the British were all closing in like a vise around the Witwatersrand and its rich mineral resources.
His hands tightened into clenched fists. If he and his followers went down in blood and flame, he only hoped his enemies would choke on their newfound wealth. God grant that they would fight over the mines and smelters until only a wasteland remained…. Karl Vorster stopped there, suddenly struck by an idea breathtaking in its very boldness. South Africa’s fate had seemed sealed, its future dark and grim. But now he saw a new road, a new option-one aimed squarely at the heart of his enemies’ plans.
STATE SECURITY COUNCIL CHAMBER, PRETORIA
Vorster’s cabinet meetings always started quietly. This day’s afternoon session was no exception. The intelligence briefer, an SADF major, gave the assembled group the latest batch of bad news in a steady monotone, his body subconsciously poised for flight. The President’s rages were legendary, and even the carefully filtered data he saw was often enough to send him into orbit.
Today, though, Vorster sat quietly, almost calmly. He seemed preoccupied by the document in front of him, and utterly uninterested in the briefer’s recitation of battlefield disasters and guerrilla attacks. He only nodded as the major finished and hastily excused himself.
Then Vorster looked up and smiled, an expression that seemed almost frightening on his haggard face.
“I bring good news, my friends. God himself has shown me the way to defeat our foes and save our people.”
What? He’s done it, thought Gen. Adriaan de Wet, he’s finally retreated completely into his world of fantasy. The general quickly studied the faces of the surviving cabinet members. Working with Karl Vorster forced one to develop a poker face, but he could read them well enough.
Marius van der Heijden looked troubled, but seemed the least affected.
The minister of law and order even seemed ready to believe the President really had found an answer to their problems. The rest showed their disbelief in a dozen different ways. Many of the military men on de Wet’s staff stared down at the map, looking for some operational scheme that they had overlooked.
“The solution to our present situation is clear if we go back to basics.
Our enemies are not attacking us for political reasons, but for economic ones. ” Vorster rose from his chair, towering over his assembled followers.
“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 re
main.”
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 capabilities. Well, we don’t want to fall into that trap here.”
Heads nodded around the room.
“Nevertheless, we will be conducting intensive reconnaissance of mines and other important industrial facilities as we move forward. And I want all troop commanders to make sure their people know their NBC procedures from front to back. “
More heads nodded. With warning and the proper equipment, men could live and fight in a radioactive or chemically contaminated environment. But it took constant training and refresher courses to ensure that the warning and the gear would be put to good use.
“Now, there’s no question that ourjob’sjust gotten tougher and more complicated ” He smiled grimly “No question at all. Unfortunately, nobody’s civilized enough these days to fight in straight lines on nice, open battlefields. But we take the enemies we get. And Vorster is what we’ve got.”
Craig spoke flatly.
“One thing’s certain. Vorster and his fanatics are desperate. This latest threat proves that. We have them on the ropes. So let’s keep them off-balance and go in for the knockout.” He’d opted for boxing terminology at the last moment. His
British officers might not have understood the football comparisons that had first popped into his mind.
“Fourth and goal” didn’t mean anything in soccer.
“That is all, ladies and gentlemen. Carry on.”
He nodded to Boume.
“Attention!” The staff rose to their feet as one. As Craig stepped down from the podium, the sergeant major whispered, “Your press conference is set up in the London Room, sir. “
Craig sighed. He begrudged the time, but he had to give the media something to chew on. Reporters abhorred a vacuum more than nature, and if they didn’t have hard information, they’d take the soft stuff. Every rumor and whisper his staff had started would be amplified a hundredfold.
At least when his officers speculated, it was informed speculation.
“Tell them I’ll be there in five minutes, and tell General Skiles I want my immediate staff assembled for a meeting in half an hour.”
Craig looked at Skiles; and the others in his office, sitting, perched on the edges of desks, or standing.
“All right, gentlemen, the troops have been given the gouge, and the press has received a distilled dose of the same. Now what the hell are my options?”
Nobody even considered advising him to halt or slow down. Offensive pressure was more than a military decision. It was an extension of their commander’s personal desire to end this war as quickly as possible.
His J-2, the officer in charge of intelligence, cleared his throat.
“I
don’t know about options exactly, General, but I do have more information from the JCS. They have nuclear and mining engineers talking to each other. Apparently, what Vorster wants to do is possible.”
Craig nodded. That only confirmed his basic assessment. It was always easier to wreck something than to build it, and Vorster had already shown he was an expert at tearing things apart.
Skiles looked thoughtful.
“I’ve been working on the time factors involved,
General. I don’t think Pretoria would have made this threat public unless they already had at least one site wired. On the other hand, they’d be stupid to wait until
the job was completely done.”
“Makes sense.”
“Okay.” Skiles doodled a quick series of numbers on a pad while he talked.
“I put some of our engineers and some Navy people with nuclear-power training on this. Now, based on the number of targets and some very rough estimates of South Africa’s transportation capabilities, they don’t believe the Afrikaners could prep a significant part of the Witwatersrand before the eighth or ninth at the earliest. Maybe even later than that.”
The chief of staff looked up from his doodling.
“It also gives us another reason for pressing the attack. The more pressure we put on Pretoria, the fewer troops the Afrikaners can release for transport and demolition work.”
“Then let’s keep the pressure on,” Craig said, “but let’s face facts. Even at forty-plus klicks a day, we’re still not going to be close enough to the mines before they’re rigged and ready to blow.”
His Air Force liaison leaned forward.
“Hell, we have total air superiority.
Why not grab these places by air assault like Ladysmith? We’ve got the helos and the manpower. “
Craig shook his head. He liked his officers to think aggressively. But sensible planning had to be firmly grounded in reality.
“I’m afraid that’s a nonstarter.”
The intelligence officer amplified Craig’s reasoning.
“There are literally hundreds of shafts and pits in the Witwatersrand, John. Every one of them would have to be hit by surprise and cleared simultaneously. It’s just not possible. “
“Yeah. I get the picture. ” The Air Force brigadier general lapsed into a gloomy silence.
The faces around the room mirrored his uncertainty and frustration.
Craig let the silence drag on for several seconds. Then he leaned forward.
“We’re looking at this situation the wrong way, gentlemen.