by Ross, Hamish
On Saturday 27 April, Pete arrived back in Sierra Leone from his familiarization course, and they decided to start buying right away. But one detail niggled Fred: when he returned from the UK, he found the dealer’s licence was made out not in his name but in that of their local partner, George. There was some story that he was more familiar with diamonds. It should not really have mattered since they were partners in the enterprise. However, Fred’s acute sensitivity to potential threat was triggered.
On 1 May they went from Bo to Kenema where they leased a small aircraft at the airport for $1,500 to fly them to Freetown with the diamonds they hoped to buy. Word got around like wildfire that they were there – paying fairer prices -, and they did a brisk trade. Content with their efforts, they headed for the airport to fly to Freetown. But as they approached the airport, they were intercepted by the police; and Fred sensed instantly what was going to happen.
I knew straight away. Because when I asked the guy, our partner, George, ‘Are you coming to Freetown?’ He said, ‘No.’ And he was the only one whose name was on the licence.
So the trap was sprung on them.
In retrospect we realized we’d been stitched up. We left the little place that we’d been buying the diamonds in; we had the diamonds and a bag of money, literally a bag of money; loads and loads of leones – I mean hundreds of thousands of leones, worth may $10,000 US. So Fred had the bag and I had the diamonds; we came back and getting near the airport, I think Fred’s sixth sense kicked in. As we approached, the police intercepted us and they found the diamonds and they found the money; and they said, where is your dealer’s licence? And what was our story? George has got it. Where is George? He is not here, he’s gone, he’s not far away. And we had a bagful of money. And I said, ‘Fred, give them some money.’
And he said, ‘No, we’ve got to make a stand.’
I said, ‘Fuck that, just give them some fucking money. Why don’t you just give them some fucking money?’
And Fred said, ‘No we’ve got to stop this corrupt stuff.’
So they arrested us, and they put us in the back of the Land Rover. And they’re all cheering as they drove us away – they’ve got these white men. And then they put us in this little prison, tiny little place, just like a hole really.17
Eventually they were released on the promise that they would fly to Freetown, retrieve the company documents for Inter-Afrique, showing proof that it was legally registered, that there was a dealer’s licence, and return with them next day. In Freetown, they again leased a small aircraft, for another $1,500, and returned to Kenema. They had, at his point, on this first venture, paid out $3,000 but neither the diamonds they bought nor their bag of money. True to their word, they reported to the police and they got their money back, but not the diamonds, because the police had an agenda. And Fred would have no part in it.
When they asked me, do you own these diamonds? I said, ‘No, keep them, just keep them. Do you think that we spent $3,000 on aircraft, going and coming back with all the money and then that we’ll pay you $5,000 to get them back? Just keep them.’
The bag of money was returned to them, they were released and left for Freetown.
In Freetown they had time to reflect on their position, and over a drink at the golf club they mulled things over. Fred was rueful.
We had money and if we had given them a million leone, half that, half a million leone, they would have been more than happy. But I said, ‘No, we’re not paying anything; we live in a civilized world.’ That is OK, but in a world full of corruption! We can laugh now, but it annoyed me so much. We had all the documentation. And there was me saying, ‘No, no we’re not going to.’ And that was more or less forcing them to turn round and say – We are the authority. And that was it finished.
But Pete was right in what he said, and I was stupid. I didn’t see that far because I was taking this stand.
There was anger too because they felt that they had been double-crossed. Their partner with the licence had stayed away from the scene.
He could probably buy from the guy who stole them or dug them up; and he could sell them to the Lebanese, and he’d maybe make $10,000 or $5,000 or whatever, quite a lot of money, relatively speaking, whereas with us he wasn’t getting that. We paid him; well we gave him some money; we looked after him very well, but it wasn’t enough.18
And so, with a bag of money and another of diamonds, and no dealer’s licence, they had walked into the waiting arms of the avaricious lawmen. As they sipped their drinks in the clubhouse, the full import of their position became clearer to them.
Pete said, ‘I think I’m flying out tomorrow.’ And I said, ‘Pete, it’s a very good idea.’ Because Pete was the one carrying the diamonds, they would arrest Pete for money.
So the next day, Saturday 4 May, Pete flew out of Sierra Leone, one step ahead of an arrest warrant from the guardians of law and order.
The project came to grief, and they lost out. But the loss extended beyond money:
It was just a belief, our belief, that if we succeeded we would help the Chief to fight the war and we’d assist him in his administration and logistics. We would make money to support and expand the company and develop it into a much bigger one.
However, on the political front events were moving at such a pace that it began to appear as if there might be no need to train militias to fight the RUF.
Chapter Four
Democratic Vista
Away with themes of War, away with War itself!
Walt Whitman, ‘Song of the Exposition’
After years of authoritarian rule, the people of Sierra Leone approached the prospect of a restored democracy with enthusiasm, maturity and determination. Elections were held in two stages during the spring of 1996. However, some people who exercised their right to vote were to suffer for it grievously. Although the RUF had been defeated in combat every time they were engaged by Executive Outcomes, rebel units still existed in the bush and their high command was in contact with them by radio. The advent of a democratically elected government was particularly galling to the RUF only nine months after they had been on the outskirts of Freetown and control of the whole country within their grasp. Outclassed militarily, the rebels adopted a barbaric revenge on individuals. A system that is common at election time in less developed countries is that of marking with indelible ink the back of the hand of a person who has voted . And in Sierra Leone at these elections, when rebels came across individuals with the tell-tale signs of having voted, they seized them and hacked off a finger or a hand as punishment.
Truly, the future was in their hands; and such wanton cruelty did not prevent the people from expressing their wishes: Ahmad Tejan Kabbah of the SLPP (Sierra Leone People’s Party) emerged from the elections as President. Kabbah had campaigned on a ticket of bringing peace to the country. Chief Hinga Norman was also a prominent member of the SLPP and one of the front runners for a cabinet post. Such was his trust in Fred that Hinga Norman could air ideas with him, knowing that his confidence would not be betrayed, for Fred was a soldier through and through, and Hinga Norman had trained as an officer in the British army. On one occasion Hinga Norman told Fred that he had been sounded out for the post of Vice President.
I advised him against it. I said, ‘Chief, the problem is with the army, why don’t you go for the position of Deputy Minister of Defence?’ He said to me, ‘Fred I cannot do that; I’ve got to go back to my people and explain to them. I cannot just do it by myself. It was my people’s will that I would follow.’ So I said, ‘You could be the Vice President but how much influence would you have in the army. The President is the Defence Minister, what power would you have as Vice President? But if you got involved with the army you would have direct dealings with them.’
Hinga Norman must have mulled this over. He would have known it was sound; a civilian politician would have deduced that after years of military rule, the army must inevitably be heavily politicized. Indeed, Brigadier Juliu
s Maada Bio, who took over as the head of government when Valentine Strasser was ousted in February, later confided that some army officers had come to him the day he handed over the reins of power to a civilian government, ‘to express their disappointment, and warned me that we would hear from them in the future.’1
At any rate, Chief Hinga Norman returned to Bo, and in discussions opened up an alternative scenario. When he came back, he told Fred that after explaining the reason for his change of direction, his people had agreed with him; they all agreed. After that, Hinga Norman would have relayed his response for the President’s consideration.
One day I came back from work; I had an arrangement that the Chief could come and stay with me. I was on the verandah cleaning out my weapon – I was still with Executive Outcomes – and I said, ‘Chief how are things?’ And he said, ‘Fred my appointment is going to be announced on the 6pm news this evening.’
So they went indoors, had a cup of tea and tuned into the news broadcast, waiting for the announcement. The announcer read the news bulletin but there was no mention of the position of Deputy Minister of Defence. After the broadcast, Fred suggested that they go for a drive.
And as we came off the hill, the Chief said, ‘Fred let’s go to the house of the Adviser to the President.’ So we went, and, as we were approaching the house, we saw a lot of cars parked outside. We stopped and the Chief went into the house. Next thing he came back out and he said, ‘Fred whatever you do, don’t move; if you move and they think I’m not interested there’s going to be a riot up and down the country.’ And he went back into the house.
Whatever politicking took place, it happened behind closed doors. The President may have already offered cabinet posts to members of other parties for their support, or he may have been holding out such a prospect to them. But from what Hinga Norman told Fred, one group of the Adviser’s entourage wanted Hinga Norman to make a call to the President; another group protested that it was the Adviser to the President who should call His Excellency and tell him that a special announcement should be made on the radio at 8pm, that there was an expectation that Chief Hinga Norman would be named as Deputy Minister of Defence; and that, if he was not, there might be demonstrations.
They waited, and at 8pm a special announcement was made naming Sam Hinga Norman as Deputy Minister of Defence. ‘And I said to the Chief, “Chief, come let’s go.” So we went down to Lagunda and had a meal and a bottle of red wine.’ After the new government was formed and Hinga Norman took up his portfolio, contact between him and Fred had to be on a more formal basis.
We had an arrangement that I could make an appointment and go and see him; but he was a Minister and I was just a friend. And we worked on a system that if he wanted to tell me something he would tell me. And that was how we did it.
Early on in Hinga Norman’s new role a conflict arose between the dictates of diplomatic protocol and his sense of loyalty to the private military company that had made his country secure enough to take the democratic path. The way he resolved it was a mark of his calibre. One part his remit as Deputy Minister of Defence was to pursue international arms control measures. In September he attended a United Nations conference in South Africa; the venue was in Pretoria; and he wanted Col Roelf van Heerden of Executive Outcomes to accompany him.
Hinga Norman and I were very good friends. I chaperoned him in South Africa one time, just after he became Deputy Minister of Defence: a meeting with the United Nations, on arms control – stopping the use of small arms. So I chaperoned him in South Africa and I knew the man very, very well. I know his family, his wife his children – I know them very well.2
However, Hinga Norman’s request to be received by Executive Outcomes’ personnel in the Republic of South Africa turned out to be an issue for the South African government, but he insisted, showing his gratitude to the company that had done so much for his country. He and Roelf van Heerden travelled separately to South Africa, Hinga Norman by way of Abidjan. According to protocol, South African Foreign Affairs officials should receive and accompany a visiting government minister, and when Hinga Norman’s flight arrived at Pretoria, Foreign Affairs officials were waiting at the airport. He told them, though, that he would rather go with the EO chaps, as they were his good friends. It could not have been easy for Chief Hinga Norman to take this stand against the apparatus of the host state, because protocol and precedent dictated that he be in the hands of South African government officials. And what happened next is known from what Hinga Norman later told Fred. As Hinga Norman was going through Immigration, he handed over his passport. The official, instead of stamping the passport, stamped a piece of paper and inserted it inside the passport. At this, Hinga Norman remarked that on his return to Sierra Leone he would inform his President that this was how a visiting minister of state from a friendly country was received in South Africa. Immediately the official asked for the passport back, removed the piece of paper, and stamped the passport.
Eventually, Hinga Norman got through the processing; Roelf van Heerden was waiting for him; they drove to the hotel in which Roelf had reserved a room for him, and then Roelf took him on a tour of the city. Roelf had been away from his home, on active service in Sierra Leone, continuously for some months, and so he brought his wife and daughter over from Namibia to Pretoria. One evening, as Roelf recalls, his family and Hinga Norman went out for dinner together.
I can remember my wife over dinner really crying, pleading with him, saying, ‘Ah it’s time for my husband to come home.’ And he said, ‘No, no he can’t come home; the war is not over and we need the man.’ So he knew my wife, he knew my daughter and he was always very interested to know how it was going at home, and what was my situation there. And so we were very, very great friends, really great friends.3
Throughout the conference, Hinga Norman had been suffering from symptoms of a neck injury, and so with approval of Lafras Luitingh, EO’s Second in Command, Roelf booked him into the Olive Dale clinic after the final seminar. Hinga Norman spent a few days in the clinic. Responsibility for him was shouldered by Executive Outcomes; the clinic staff were very co-operative, agreeing to the special arrangements that Roelf requested: no one should see Hinga Norman without the approval of EO management. When he was discharged from the clinic, Hinga Norman spent a day shopping in the city centre for some good clothing. Although he expressed a wish to see President Nelson Mandela, no meeting took place, and Roelf is pretty sure that Hinga Norman did not have a session with any other South African government minister or official. Such, it seems, was the official cold-shouldering of a visiting minister, determined to be his own man. Then it was time to depart, and Roelf and Hinga Norman set out on the trip back to Sierra Leone .
In Sierra Leone, as the war against the rebels continued deeper into the bush, Fred’s role changed: instead of taking part in their combat operations, he became the link-man between Executive Outcomes and the Sierra Leone government through Chief Hinga Norman, Deputy Minister of Defence. Fred’s role was to arrange visits and meetings up-country between Hinga Norman and EO commanders, as the company’s operations continued against rebel bases. On some occasions, Hinga Norman wanted the advice of the Brigadier in charge of EO and Fred was the facilitator for these meetings. At all levels relationships were cordial and relaxed. There were times, though, when Hinga Norman wanted advice from EO on intelligence matters; Fred arranged these meetings, but did not attend them. He took the initiative in absenting himself on such occasions: he felt that he should not stretch the bounds of friendship with a government minister into matters of state importance; and Chief Hinga Norman respected him for it.
At the same time as he was carrying out the link role between the Deputy Minister of Defence and Executive Outcomes, Fred formed a security company, Cape International, along with Murdo Macleod and Paddy McKay. They received the Registration Documents for Cape International on 19 September 1996. Fred had first met Murdo Macleod when he was with the SAS in the Falklands campaign of
1982 and Murdo was in the RAF, flying Harrier jets. They met up again in Sierra Leone when Murdo was running Ibis Air Wing. It was when he was with EO that Fred first met Paddy. Thanks to the improved security situation in the country, mining operations were getting under way again; and Cape International, won the contract to provide security to Nick Worrell’s company, Golden Prospect Mining, which had mining concessions in the north, in the Diang Chiefdom. The operations site was based up-country in Yara and head office was in Freetown. The three founders of Cape International gave it a structure of three directors: Murdo was Managing Director, Paddy was Financial Director and Fred was Operations Director, responsible for running the up-country operations and carrying out liaison with police and other agencies.
Recruitment of expatriates and locals was followed by training on site. Fred took a very systematic approach to training: testing and sifting for training took place first, then there followed training on basic aspects of security work after which there was further testing. Those who passed went on shift for a six-week probationary period. Further training then took place on basic first aid; and ex-firefighters carried out fire-fighting training; ex-police did the same in principles of law. A basic test was set and those who passed earned an increase in salary. Once recruits were allocated to their shifts, Fred or one of the ex-pats and the shift commander took them to the location at which they were to be employed and explained to them the details of what they must do.
Fred adopted a five-shift system at the operational site. There had to be three ex-pats up-country at any one time, leaving one or two in the Freetown office. The work pattern for locals was three weeks on duty followed by one week’s paid leave; that for ex-pats was three months on duty and one month’s paid leave. Air fares and in-country expenses were paid by the company.