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

by Casey Christie

  “Thank you Night. And yes your observation is correct. We move with blistering rapidity. That is our Ace in the hole and that is what makes us deadly. Now let me introduce you to my men. I know you haven’t met them before as they do not work openly, if you get my drift, so I will simply stick to call signs.”

  Kalahari had an Aryan look about him. At least the Western notion of what an Aryan looks like, made prominent by the Nazi ideology. He had blond hair swept back against his head. Piercing blue eyes. Sharp and rugged facial features. He stood at exactly six foot and had broad shoulders and was well muscled, as all STF men are. His skin was a dark beige, almost the colour of desert sand. Night thought this was perhaps the most likely reason for the Warrant Officer’s nickname.

  Kalahari introduced his men, by call sign. Which meant nothing, so Night didn’t take note and realised he was studying Kalahari perhaps a little more closely than he would have liked to have shown.

  “Yes Night, the call signs mean very little. But do I detect that you distrust me?”

  “No. I just like to know who I am about to go into battle with, to face a Colonel they call the Devil with a platoon of his infantry under his command, in the middle of the desert.”

  “Indeed. But as I am sure you will agree, words, or indeed appearances, in situations like these mean little. Action is everything.”

  Tony made an announcement for all the men to stand parade in the tent for briefing in ten minutes.

  “It’s time to prepare for combat” said Night.

  The men moved into the temporary structure and changed into the prescribed fighting gear. Black combat boots, black cargo pants, black TRU combat shirts with a high neck and long sleeves.

  Night and Shaka and the majority of the other men had no need to change their pants as they were already wearing what was needed. Most tactical operators seemingly dressed and indeed thought alike. The men all had to remove their shirts to place on the prescribed uniform. And all of the men took the opportunity to assess the fitness and strength levels of their comrades. Night had come to understand this phenomenon. It occurred in changing rooms, in police stations, army barracks and gyms all over the world. Men, especially modern day fighting men took the occasion to judge the man next to them, to gauge his life experience and on this occasion the bodily display of the experiences of combat was obvious.

  With the exception of the colossal Zulu, every one of the operators was in the ideal fighting range of the modern day tactical operator in terms of height and weight. All between five foot nine inches and six foot one inch, all weighed in between 75 kilograms and 100 kilograms. They were all fit and explosively powerful and had an array of battle scars, mainly, as to be expected, visible on the back and chest. Bullet wounds and knife lesions adorned each man’s body as a sort of battle testament of honour. A rite of passage and proof of knowledge of hostilities between mortal men.

  “Where are the other two SF boys?” Night asked Kalahari.

  “They are on recon. The bomb maker and a sniper scout. They got in, kitted up and headed off. They will surely paint us a pretty picture and take up effective positions to prepare the ground for us.”

  Night noted the remaining two Army men talking to the General. The older man was deep in conversation with the General.

  “That’s Echo Bravo and his second isn’t it?” asked Night.

  “Indeed. We are in legendary company. This should be quite the contact!” smiled the STF operative.

  Night liked this Kalahari man. He was a good guy. A dangerous, good guy.

  “Gentlemen, parade!” said Tony, taking up the duty of the RSM (Regimental Sergeant Major).

  Within moments the men had formed three lines of three with the towering Shaka taking up the single position at the back of the parade.

  “AANDAG! Officer on parade.” commanded Tony.

  The men, as one, stood to attention and saluted the General. Their Operational Commander began his mission briefing. There would be no white boards, no elaborate diagrams or aerial maps. These material things would leave a traceable trail of paper. There would be no sophisticated modern technology to make up a mission Control. Just one verbal briefing. The men were highly trained operators and they were all experienced enough to build their own mind maps and operational diagrams. This was Africa after all.

  “At ease gentlemen” said Arosi.

  “About five minutes ago our first bit of INT came in on our target. Two of our Mike Romeo men have eyes on. Since night has fallen digging has ceased and our target and his men have retreated to their structure for the night. As we had hoped and planned for, they are now indulging in alcohol and other drugs. They have however left sentries. Eight perimeter guards in total, two per side, North East South and West. The camp site itself is not too dissimilar to our own except that they have two tented structures and not one. The smaller of the two we assume, at the moment, until we receive confirmed INT, houses their leader - the Colonel they call uSathane, the man we are after.

  “In front of his tent and to the right of it is a larger marquee that we believe houses the majority of the men. We confirmed at the time of their border crossing that there are indeed 24 in the Colonel’s platoon. That makes 25 men we need to kill today, we take no prisoners. Earlier aerial photography of the camp site shows they had ten of the platoon working as labourers extracting the quarry, operating the heavy earth moving equipment, digging and carrying the loot into the trucks. These men we can expect to be in the main shelter, either sleeping, exhausted, drinking or smoking. We know that these men are the lowest ranking and most inexperienced of the lot, hence the reason they have been demoted to miners. They are pushed hard all morning and all day and should be easy to deal with. But we will take nothing for granted. So that leaves seven men we need to eliminate. We know two men stay at the side of the General at all times and we expect them to be with their master in his quarters. The remaining four set up a defensive guard at the front of the camp. They do this as they form a physical barrier to the rear of the camp with their nine vehicles and the large earth moving machine. We suspect they have done this to try and entice an attack from the unprotected rear, which in fact they have actually heavily booby-trapped with explosives.

  “So we will attack them from the front, head on. We know from the border crossing and intelligence reports that they only have AK47s and nothing else, nothing of heavier calibre and nothing smaller. We know this because the same contact that supplied us our weaponry supplied our enemy their arms as well. We also know that their ammunition is limited. Two magazines per rifle. So a protracted engagement is not a possibility. Any questions so far?”

  “Yes General, a question and perhaps a suggestion,” said the 2IC to Echo Bravo, the former Army SF man. “Why don’t we just bomb the crap out of the camp – we have sufficient ordnance? Or just lay down heavy and uninterrupted 7.62 gunfire and cut them down behind their thin and soft tented fabric. We would slaughter them and minimise our own risk of casualty.”

  “The short answer is that there is a possibility of civilians being on site. Either hostages or machine operators or miners -We have not been able to completely rule out the possibility of innocents being on location. And secondly because where would be the honour in that? Besides this is a legitimate engagement carried out against known criminals under a legal contract and if we are successful I suspect our suited politicians, who gave us the unofficial amber light for this operation, may decide to bask in the light of the glory our success will inevitably bring. So achieving our objectives by using the least amount of force possible is highly desirable. Any other questions?”

  The General paused only momentarily and then continued.

  “None. Good . Now, we have split our force into three command groups. The first group led by Echo Bravo of Mike Romeo will take care of Intelligence gathering, reconnaissance, sniping and explosives. Their task will be to take out the perimeter patrols. That’s eight men. The second group will be led by Kilo o
f the STF. Their job will be to take out the guard of four men who protect the front of the camp and then to move on into the main shelter and eliminate the ten labourers, who will be armed and by this time alerted to our arrival by the sound of gunfire; you will need to be fast Kilo, but I know that’s exactly your game. That’s 22.

  “The third group will be led by Mike November. Your task will be to eliminate the target. Tango Tango will join your three and act as your sweeper. So dovetail behind the STF men and break ranks only after the initial four have been removed then move directly to the smaller tent which shelters the Colonel. It will be in front of you and to the right of where the STF men move. I will be in a OP (Observation Point) with the scout sniper and will redirect any team to assist where necessary or to take over from an objective that seems to be at failure point. I however know that this will not be the case as you will all succeed in accomplishing your respective objectives. Any questions?”

  “Yes General. I do have a query” said Night. “I must tell you that I had a failure to fire while on target, our target, previously. My weapon was later proved effective and I did squeeze the trigger. I hasten to add that I do not believe in witchcraft but I feel I must point this fact out and it needs to be addressed.”

  Night knew he risked looking weak and superstitious by saying what he had just said but he felt it was worth the hazard as not bringing this fact up could prove even more perilous. The group were silent for only a moment and then to Night’s great relief Kalahari spoke.

  “I agree. General, we cannot ignore this point and I hasten to add that the same thing happened to me. We had uSathane under observation and launched an operation against him. We cut down his men in seconds. But I had a clear shot on the Colonel with my MP5 and I squeezed the trigger and fuck all happened. The Colonel escaped.”

  “You are both right gentlemen and all the Intelligence reports I have seen about uSathane reiterate this point. Perhaps it’s muti perhaps it is a different form of witchcraft or perhaps it’s just coincidence. But to be sure I want every one of your men to carry a large combat knife, Mike November. I have four that will be issued to you with your rifles. If bullets fired from a gun can’t kill the bastard death by knife will have to suffice. I suggest going for the man’s neck Mike!”

  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

  Minutes later and the parade was dismissed and the men reported to Tony Tshabalala to receive their AK 47 assault rifles and ammunition, six magazines of 30 rounds per man. One in the weapon and five extra on the battle jacket. Each of Night’s team received a six inch KM 4000 combat knife. Night received two flashbangs (stun grenades) of which he kept one and issued the other to Stanislov. All the men were issued with night vision but none of the operators planned on using the goggles. They were on a secure radio network with repeaters stationed at the FOB and at strategic points. All the operators were hooked up to throat mikes.

  The fire force was fully kitted up and ready to move out. More intelligence came in – uSathane was confirmed to be in the smaller tent and inside it at the moment. He had been seen leaving, speaking to the four man night guard and going back into his tent. With the ZNA Colonel confirmed present and in situ it was time to move.

  The three team leaders had a brief discussion.

  “Kilo – you move in as soon as you hear the first explosions” said the General.

  “Yes Kilo” said Echo Bravo. “My men will set charges on each side of the perimeter bar the front. That will cause panic and confusion and will allow my sniper to eliminate the perimeter guardsmen. He will target the men at the front first, leaving you clear to move in and engage the four frontal defence. Myself and each of my men will attack from every other direction eliminating the outer ring of infantry. Do not launch your attack before or after the explosions. It must be a precise coordinated attack. Timing is everything” said Echo Bravo.

  “No worries Echo Bravo. You do your job and I’ll do mine. Just don’t leave any perimeter guards undead. Mike November follow up close behind us. Do not worry about attempting to help us kill our lot - we will do just fine, brother. Then when we have cleared the front and I am satisfied we are all clear my team will break left towards the main barracks. Then you go weapons free and head for the Colonel” said Kalahari.

  “It will be done, brother” said Night.

  “And Mike, although I don’t think I need to say this I will anyway. If you fail in your mission of assassinating the Devil, do not worry, for I will move my squad forward and we will destroy him for you.”

  “Kilo, what is your timing estimation on the operation?” asked the General.

  “From first explosion to last shot, General, anything more than 60 seconds and we have a problem. If we do it in 30 it will be perfect; 45 seconds will be good and every second after 50 we lose the element of surprise and with that our advantage.”

  “Let’s aim for 30 then shall we” said General Arosi with his characteristic smile.

  And the troop went off silently into the cold desert night. While they moved Night thought about the man they called Kalahari. His age was hard to determine, anywhere between 30 and 50, Night guessed. He spoke with a calm confidence that held a certainty of victory in it. For some reason Night felt a strong camaraderie with this man as though he had known him for a lifetime. He also felt sure that this man and his team could accomplish the mission themselves, but that was absurd --four vs. 24 – then again, even the General seemed to defer to this man they called Kalahari.

  They marched silently for what seemed like both an eternity and no time at all. Night was lost in thoughts about Lisa and his beloved Wamba – was the great dog still alive, he wondered? How was Lisa? Was what he was doing right? Tactically he also realised that he and his team had been set the most difficult task within the mission objective. Their target would surely be ready and waiting by the time they reached the colonel’s marquee. But getting into a gunfight is never safe and without risk. Unlike Hollywood action movies sometimes the best art of war is to simply go to war. Head on. But was this strategy of blunt attack foolhardy and gratuitously dangerous? Well, whatever the answer was, from the day uSathane came into the life of Michael Night so violently it was forever changed.

  Moments later Night’s attention was brought back to the present. The order was received to stand by. The troop halted. The Army SF men moved off into the dark. The General spoke on whispered tones over the radio net.

  “Next command will be to move up to the staging area. Just around that koppie (small hill). The target is just beyond it.”

  So the General, Night, Shaka, Stanislov, Tony, Kalahari and his three men waited patiently in formation for the word to come from Echo Bravo that the charges were set, his men were in position and they were ready to attack. This was the most crucial point in the operation. If Echo Bravo’s team failed, the mission would fail. If Echo Bravo’s team succeeded then the operation would most likely succeed. Seconds passed. Seconds turned into minutes. And the minutes continued to tick by. Night looked at the General who looked at Kalahari. Kalahari spread his hands. The General looked worried, for the first time in the operation. Then.

  “Stand by. Stand by. Stand by.” And then.

  “GO! GO! GO!” Radio Echo Bravo.

  The line of men moved up to the staging area. The General peeled off to join the sniper at the OP.

  They were in position. They could see the enemy, only metres in front of them. Night could see the ill-discipline of the perimeter watch. The patrolling front two were chatting, sitting on a large rock. The main defence of four were playing cards and drinking. Night knew then that his enemy were doomed.

  BOOM! Multiple explosions rang out as one. The sound was thunderous and the effect was immediate. Night’s hearing vanished, as usual, he entered into tunnel vision and as one he and his comrades moved in. Then everything was crystal clear to Night. Time slowed. His vision enhanced, his speed and strength quadrupled and he entered into a secondary plane of existence. He was in
bliss.

  Night watched as the soldiers of the ZNA scrambled for their weapons but their efforts were futile. The first two men of the patrol went down like sacks of potatoes one after the other, the Scout Sniper double tapping each man, one in the chest, one in the head until they fell to the floor and then a few more rounds into their centre mass to make sure.

  Kalahari and his men moved up and wielded their AKs in a manner Night didn’t think possible. They used short bursts of gunfire and cut down the guard of four within seconds. Night swore Kalahari had taken them all out himself. As they passed the fallen enemy two of the STF men finished their magazines of ammunition into the bodies of the collapsed men. To make sure. They tactically reloaded their weapons as they peeled off from Night and his men. Two by two. The Black Bastards moved past them and as they did so Kalahari gave Night a look and flashed him a smile. Night’s mind focused sharply once more on his objective and he concentrated on the tent in front of him.

  It was bigger than it had first looked, deceptively so. The four men drew up to the Colonel’s lodging and were moments from entering when the first ZNA trooper appeared, a deranged look on his disfigured face. He lowered his AK to fire but it was far too late. Stanislov and Night cut the soldier down simultaneously sending more than a dozen rounds into him. He collapsed and they continued forward. Night and Stanislov drew their respective flashbangs and as one they pulled out the safety pins of their non-lethal stun grenades and expertly deployed them into the lair of the Devil and his men. They tactically stacked up at the entrance and waited a second for the explosions to sound and a second longer for the enemy to feel the disorienting effects of the flash and the bang. With a nod and a hand signal the Black Bastards and the General’s bodyguard breached the structure.