There was also the possibility that 3d Group had some classified “special operations” tasked to it that they couldn’t show Conner. The one that came immediately to Riley’s mind, based on his study of the situation, was the capture or possible assassination of rebel leader Jonas Savimbi. That action would go a long way toward ending the civil war with one fell swoop. After the way the warlord Aidid had embarrassed U.S. forces in Somalia, Riley had no doubt that the people in the Pentagon wanted to be better prepared this time around. While assassination as a tool of foreign policy was technically illegal, Riley was certain no tears would be shed if “someone” took out Savimbi at long range with a sniper rifle, so long as that “someone” was never identified.
The history of the civil war in Angola was long and convoluted, and Riley had spent many hours studying it to grasp the changes that had led to the present situation. For most of the civil war, the United States had actually supported Savimbi and his rebel forces, both in the international political arena and with hundreds of millions of dollars of military equipment. The CIA was reported to have even supplied training for some of Savimbi’s troops. As was not unusual in the modern world, the United States was going up against a force it had once helped train and arm.
It had taken Riley a little while to get the various groups straight in his mind. Savimbi led UNITA, the National Union for the Total Independence of Angola. The government party of President Jose Eduardo dos Santos was the MPLA, the Popular Movement for the Liberation of Angola. As the names of both factions indicate, they had originally been formed in the sixties and fought against the Portuguese colonial government. In early 1975, after a military overthrow of the government in Lisbon, Angola was granted independence from Portugal.
As usual, after independence is granted in a country, there was a battle between competing guerrilla forces to fill the power vacuum left by the withdrawal of the occupying power. In the struggle between the MPLA and UNITA for control of the country, the Cold War came to Angola. The Soviet Union supported the communist MPLA and the United States began sending money to UNITA. Not because it was a democratic movement (in fact, it was modeled along Red Chinese lines), but more because it opposed the communist MPLA. Riley knew that flawed logic well: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Because the Soviets acted more quickly and with more money, advisers, and weapons, the MPLA took over the capital city of Luanda and announced the establishment of the People’s Republic of Angola on 11 November 1975.
By January of the following year, with the aid of ten thousand Cuban troops and over $250 million in Soviet military aid, the MPLA emerged as the dominant military power.
The U.S. supported UNITA with overt aid for a while, but the recent memory of the debacle in Vietnam caused a large outcry against any possibility of being drawn into another such conflict, which was what the war in Angola seemed about to turn into. As a result, the Clark Amendment was passed by the United States Congress, which ended all overt aid to UNITA. The MPLA was finally recognized by the OAU, the UN, Portugal, and over seventy other nations.
UNITA and Jonas Savimbi did not disappear, however. They simply found another supporter closer to home who did not like the idea of a communist government in power in Luanda. With South African backing, Savimbi slowly began a guerrilla campaign against the government. The MPLA was experiencing much factional infighting throughout this process, which further contributed to the confusion. In 1979 President dos Santos of the MPLA came to power in Luanda and another factor came to play in the Angolan story—Namibia, a province of South Africa to the south.
The South Africans in Namibia supported UNITA. The Cubans in Angola supported the MPLA. Both sides wanted the other to back off. Naturally, the South Africa government wasn’t too keen on this idea and in 1981 launched assaults over a hundred kilometers deep into Angola against MPLA bases that were said to be supporting Namibian guerrillas. A decade of war followed between UNITA and the MPLA, with hundreds of thousands of casualties on both sides.
Eventually, as the Cold War wound down and changes occurred in South Africa, the external powers backed off, with the Cubans going home and the South Africans pulling back. But the Angolans themselves continued at each other’s throats, as they were already home and had no place to go. And there was still considerable covert foreign interest in Angola due to the natural resources the country possessed—primarily oil and diamonds.
The story got even stranger, Riley knew. The international community, along with the UN, finally managed to get both sides to agree to a country-wide election in 1992. UNITA received 34 percent of the vote, while the MPLA took over 53 percent. Instead of standing by the results as he had promised, Savimbi took to the bush and continued his fight to militarily seize what had just been denied him by popular vote.
The last U.S. administration had finally seen the light and reversed decades-long support for Savimbi and recognized the rightfully elected government in Luanda: the MPLA. Times had changed and the red threat was no longer an issue.
Still, the fight had continued until late 1995, when Nelson Mandela had helped negotiate another cease-fire and apparent compromise between Savimbi and the ruling MPLA. Savimbi was given the second slot in the government in exchange for peace. The solution had worked for a while, but then last year, Savimbi had attempted a coup that had just barely failed. He had succeeded, however, in seizing half the country, including the critical diamond-mining region.
Riley’s analysis of the military situation in the country was the same as most other military men’s: without outside influence, neither side was likely to win and the war was going to drag on, with the majority of casualties coming from disease and starvation among the civilian population. It was a disastrous recipe that the United Nations wanted to abort but had always lacked the willpower and firepower to do so, especially after what had happened in Somalia. It was only after South Africa and the Organization of African States, the OAS, had proposed this joint plan, with U.S. support pledged, that action had been agreed upon.
Thus it had been decided that the U.S. and South Africa, along with other African nations, were going to go into Angola and defeat the man whose forces the U.S. and South African governments had supported for so many years. Typical, Riley had thought, reading the Angolan country study in preparation for this assignment.
Riley kicked back in his chair as Waller continued, giving Conner information Riley knew she already had in her laptop computer. He had to admit it felt good to be back around other Special Forces types after the past several years in the civilian world.
Riley perked up as Waller started outlining the schedule they’d prepared for Conner. There were numerous briefings for her with various elements of the SFOB staff and visits to the various AOBs planned. Riley watched as she raised a hand, interrupting the S-3.
“Yes?” Waller paused.
“I’d like to work with an ODA.”
“Excuse me?” Waller’s gaze shifted to his commander.
Colonel Burrows turned in his seat. “We have a complete schedule worked out for you, Ms. Young. You’ll get a much better idea of what’s going on at the SFOB and—”
“I’d like to accompany an ODA on their mission,” Conner repeated.
Riley leaned forward in his seat. He’d coached Conner on this part and he was interested to see how it played out. They’d already set the ground work at the Pentagon the previous week. One thing Riley had learned the past year—Conner represented SNN, the Satellite News Network, and as such she was a very powerful person. The media was going to be an essential part of this mission as the administration tried to keep the voting populace behind the plan. Persons of power in Washington and around the Beltway understood that. He hoped Burrows would also.
“Going out with a team would be too dangerous,” Burrows said. “This is a live combat zone and our rules of conduct—”
“That’s the story I was sent to do,” Conner interrupted. “There will be other people from my organization in Luanda to cover whatever happens at the SFOB. I’m here now,” Conner continued, “for the purpose of getting down on the ground and showing the American people what is really going on.”
“I’m afraid I can’t take the risk of allowing you—”
Conner cut in again, probably the only time the group commander had been interrupted in his own conference room. “I’m afraid, Colonel, that this really isn’t a matter that is open for debate. I appreciate your concerns, but I’ve already discussed this matter at length with quite a few people in—what do you call it—your chain of command?” She graced Burrows with a bright smile as he nodded. “Anyway, your chain of command thinks it’s an excellent idea. General Long was most enthusiastic.”
That was a bit of an overstatement, Riley knew. He’d been there in Long’s office with Conner when the phone call from the secretary of defense had come in, ordering Long—commander of U.S. Special Operations—to allow Conner Young of SNN free rein on this assignment. The Department of Defense had a long history of being burned by the media, and many of the wounds were self-inflicted. Obviously, the new administration wanted to change history. Long had grimaced and accepted the inevitable, as Burrows was going to have to do. If you can’t beat them, join them, seemed to be the unhappy new assessment of the Pentagon regarding the media.
Burrows turned to Captain Kanalo. “Is this correct?”
Kanalo was not a happy man, to be looking down the double barrel of a full colonel’s glare. “Uh, yes, sir. She has complete authorization from the Pentagon, sir.”
“But, Ms. Young, you don’t seem to understand,” Burrows said, trying to change his tactics. “These teams will be going out into the bush. They’ll be going in fast and hard and—”
“Mr. Riley,” Conner cut in again, turning her head toward the rear of the room, “has fully briefed me on the type of operations that will be conducted. He has had fifteen years of active duty service in the Special Forces.”
Riley sat up a bit straighter in his chair as every eye in the room fixed on him, as if he were to blame for this unexpected change of events. Now he was glad he wasn’t wearing a uniform.
“Mr. Riley and I spent the last three days down at the Joint Readiness Training Center at Fort Polk getting familiarized with peacekeeping operations and media-military interface,” Conner continued. “Everything has been arranged, Colonel.”
“But—” Burrows sputtered.
Conner kept the initiative. “I understand the teams are in isolation and will be briefing back this week. I would like to get linked up with one of your teams and sit in on their briefback.”
“The briefback?” Burrows said, surprised at her use of Special Forces terminology.
Conner smiled. “Yes. The briefback.”
“I have to reiterate,” Burrows said, “that the teams will be going into very dangerous areas. We can’t be held responsible for your safety.”
“You will not be responsible,” Conner sweetly replied. “This has already been cleared by SNN’s legal people with the judge advocate general’s office. Also, to help ensure my safety, Mr. Riley is with me.”
Burrows looked at Riley. “What was your MOS?”
“I was a one-eight-C before I went warrant,” Riley replied, indicating that he’d been a Special Forces engineer while an enlisted man, then had received a warrant officer commission.
“What units have you served with?”
“First, Fifth, and Seventh groups. Ranging in duties from junior demo sergeant through team leader. My last tour was with the Special Warfare Center assigned to the officer committee of the Q-course.”
Burrows frowned. “Your name sounds familiar. Have we served together?”
“Not to my knowledge, sir.”
Burrows took a deep breath. “Well, as long as you understand that we can’t be held responsible for your safety and it’s been cleared.” He turned to Waller. “Which team’s briefing back soon?”
Waller grabbed a file folder and flipped it open. “We’ve got—” He paused as he scanned the page. “Uh, I would suggest ODA three one four, sir. You’re taking their briefback at eighteen hundred hours today.”
Conner stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time, then, Colonel. I’ll see you at the isolation facility at eighteen hundred hours. Please make sure to put myself and Mr. Riley on the team’s access roster.”
She shook hands with Colonel Burrows and walked out the door, Riley on her heels. They left the group headquarters. Mike Seeger, Conner’s cameraman, was waiting outside, his rig lightly tucked under one arm. He was a huge man, well over six and a half feet tall with a bushy gray beard. He appeared to be the classic Harley biker, which was misleading because outside of his job he was a minister in his local church outside Atlanta and one of the gentlest men Riley had ever met.
“Are we in?” Seeger asked.
“We’re in,” Conner said as she led the way to their van.
“Burrows will call General Long,” Riley warned.
“And Long will tell him that we’re to go with the team,” Conner said. “I called Long’s bluff and we played his little war game in Louisiana for three days,” she added. “Now he has to back up his end of the deal.”
“I know that,” Riley said. He paused and lightly touched Conner’s arm. “I know you had to do that to get in with the team, but remember something. Burrows runs the SFOB and when we go in on the ground with the team, the SFOB is heaven and Burrows is god. He controls the most important thing to every team.” Riley could tell that Seeger was annoyed with his religious analogy.
“What’s that?” Conner asked.
“Exfiltration,” Riley said. “We go in with a one-way ticket and Burrows and the SFOB control the ticket out, so don’t get too far on his bad side.”
“I’ll remember that,” Conner said.
“This colonel is just a man,” Seeger said, putting his camera into the rear of the van. “I put my trust in no man. My trust is in God.” He walked around to the other side to get in the driver’s door.
“I don’t know if God spends too much time on the ground in Angola,” Riley muttered.