2. Charmaine took us to the airport….

Charmaine took us to the airport; at that time in the morning Lanseria is dead quiet. We looked around and saw a couple of other chaps standing around looking confused. You can’t really waltz up to someone and ask where is the flight for the ‘gonnabe’ mercenaries, can you? Besides, although we had a good idea it was to Angola, we weren’t suppose to know where we where going anyway. We all stood around until some reasonably well-dressed guy came and asked us what we were looking for. That’s how we met the pilots from Capricorn Systems, a civilian courier service that flew us in and out. We gave in our passports and Trevor and I made acquaintance with our first real live Selous Scout, Bruce. He was in his late forties early fifties and rather outspoken. We eventually climbed aboard a Kingair, along with a Bullterrier that let off the most terrible farts for the next six hours. Apparently he belonged to RMS Reima at the training camp called Longa.  Slept on and off and by the time we landed didn’t know if I wanted to piss or smoke more. Did both simultaneously.

Cabo Ledo

Caba Ledo

After attending to the basics the first thing one noticed is the heat. We had flown along a coastline for the last hour or more. I that we were close to the sea. Obviously there was the runway, but saw not another plane in sight. We flew in at 32000ft which I believe is out of range for SAM7’s, and dived to ground level at an alarming rate of descent for that same reason. The second thing I saw was that the bush was not as thick as I would have thought. A white soldier in cammos climbed on the wing to refuel the Kingair, which took off as soon as possible, again for obvious reasons. A 4×4 of unknown make and origin picked us up; a white soldier was driving. We drove the short distance to the airport buildings, mainly low single story affairs with just the fundamental windows and doors. All this was fenced in with diamond wire mesh. The buildings formed a square in the center of which was a bar, naturally. We reported to a room that served as an office and there the mandatory paperwork was done. Our passports were put in a safe, some of the chaps were highly unhappy about this. Then we went through the normal, for some people, shit with storemen to get kit. Don’t really like rear- echelon soldiers, with good reason. In the SADF we called them jam- stealers, this lot proved no different.


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