CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TAKING THE WAR TO THE REBELS IN SIERRA LEONE

Washington was clearly disturbed by the downturn of events in Sierra Leone and it wasn’t long before there were some new faces—most of them American—at Cockerill Barracks. The first to arrive was a Californian company, the Pacific Architects and Engineers (PAE), who were instructed by the U.S. State Department to help the ECOMOG war effort. For its air operations in Sierra Leone, PAE hired another American company, International Charter Incorporated (ICI) of Oregon, which had a rather distinct U.S. Government footprint. This raised quite a few eyebrows.

ICI’s helicopters were Russian and were painted white and blue all over, with large American flags prominently displayed on both sides of the fuselage. Flown by Russian pilots and protected by ‘retired’ U.S. Special Forces personnel, these helicopters provided the beans and bullets for ECOMOG forces fighting the war. Like Nellis’ ‘Bokkie’ they would also remove the wounded and dead, bring in fuel supplies and ferry the occasional VIP about the country, usually some American congressmen trying to score points with his electorate.

ICI’s presence in the country was a useful adjunct to what Nellis and his team were trying to achieve, and also a fairly effective distraction from direct British involvement in the war. In fact, very few people were aware that the command-and-control centre at Cockerill Barracks was run by senior British officers and included SAS personnel who, strictly against the orders of the Minister of Defence in London, Nellis would take on reconnaissance or fact finding missions.

Support personnel on board the ICI choppers were a mixed bunch. By all accounts, they were comfortable mixing it with the rebels, and more often than not took the initiative when they ‘encountered’ Foday Sankoh’s people along the way.

Among the more prominent was Mykel Hawke, a Special Forces reserve operative who, when not with his unit in Iraq or Afghanistan, did this sort of thing for fun. He saved Nellis’ bacon on more than one occasion. Hawke sometimes provided the Air Wing, as Nellis and his team were known, with logistical support in the field, including fuel drops in remote places so that ‘Bokkie’ could get home. Interestingly, he has since gone on to make a name for himself by hosting several television series on The Discovery Channel.

In an assessment of the situation much later, Nellis said that he and the others soon got the impression that the American Government had instructed PAE to help them where they could:

including paying our fuel account so that we could remain active … in other respects they would invite us for the occasional meal or give us some of their surplus flying kit, which came in handy because we were almost in rags. Then we started working together and flew cross-country in three-ship formations. Sometimes we would move troops, other times food and ammunition for the soldiers in the field, who were having a really tough time against a much better equipped and motivated enemy.

With Sandline abruptly departed and no extraneous security elements in place, the rebels started making substantial advances against Freetown. In a sense, Nellis said, ‘they’d already smelt blood and wanted more’.

On the chopper side, recalls Nellis:

It didn’t always work the way we intended it to because the Russian pilots liked to fly at about 1,000ft, while we hugged the deck. We warned them about SAMs and they said we were crazy. They would insist that there were none, maintaining that being Russian, they would be the first to know. They changed their minds after they had been shot at a few times and started to think like we did.

There were some interesting contrasts in the mix. While the Americans would fly in full combat kit, with flak jackets, army boots and their M16s, the Russians preferred to don white shirts and slacks for their flying duties, much as they did in peacetime.

Towards the end of November 1998, it was clear that the rebels had embarked on a serious anti-Nigerian offensive. They started to concentrate their assets in the north-east, around the diamond fields, and the intent was clear. The initiative, apparently, came from Charles Taylor who wanted to control Kono and have all its precious stones for himself.

On the domestic front, Juba had all but stopped flying because of his lunchtime meetings with friends at Paddy’s Bar and Alex’s Restaurant so most of the time it was just Nellis and his Ethiopian engineer, Sindaba, in the cockpit. That suited him fine, he recalls today, because he was steadily building up his hours and gaining more experience on machines which, until a short while before, had been quite new to him.

I recall going into Kono one morning and chatting to a Nigerian Army captain I’d met at the Cape Sierra Hotel a few weeks before. He told me that he was worried that Kono would come under serious attack sometime soon. He was right, because the RUF launched a major frontal assault two days later and captured him.

They literally ripped him apart. After he had been suspended between two vehicles, which tore off his arms and legs, they disembowelled him. I was obviously shocked when I heard the news because I was aware that he had recently married a Sierra Leonean woman and when we talked at the airfield, he mentioned missing the love of his life.

It disturbed Nellis that the ECOMOG High Command in Freetown didn’t appear to be unduly concerned at the possibility of losing the diamond fields. Kholbe, by then promoted to brigadier-general, was in his office when Nellis called to talk. Nellis told him that he’d got a mid-morning call from the squad from Lifeguard who said they were under siege and couldn’t hold out much longer.

He and I both knew that the majority of these people were private military contractors from South Africa, and quite a few were formerly with EO. He was also aware that Lifeguard was integral to his defence structure and that the squad, and the Nigerian troops in the area, were desperately short of ammunition. He caught me a bit off-guard by sending me to his second-in-charge, Colonel Garba, who was also Nigerian. I mentioned that Lifeguard had 82mm mortars and a couple of 12.7mms and that they badly needed ammo. He was aware that they were holed up on Monkey Mountain, where the mine was.

Instead of doing something positive, the idiot sent me on a ration run. I was tasked to deliver food to a Sierra Leonean Army base about 80km from Freetown, manned by a bunch of hooligan riff-raff who were still loyal to the government and under no threat at all. Barely an hour later, I got a call on the radio from Lifeguard and was told that the Nigerian lines had started to crumble. The gist of it was that the rebels had overwhelmed some of their positions, including those of two battalions of Kholbe’s soldiers. They were all about to be annihilated and were running away from their positions.

My priority just then was to work out a way of helping the Lifeguard unit. I was able to get through to them again on the radio and they said that they had started to move to a stronger point about 15km away. They asked for immediate extraction.

Since this was the kind of emergency that one always fears— the fellows were not only desperate, they were cut off and their ammunition was drying up—I went to look for Juba. I found him at the base and told him that because of bad visibility, the rescue attempt should be a two-pilot operation. I also mentioned that because of the Harmattan wind, visibility was likely to be down to 1,000 metres. Laden with fine Saharan sand and enveloping much of West Africa, the annual phenomenon can make navigation difficult.

Juba refused outright. I should go on my own, he scoffed. With that, he was off into town for another lunch meeting with the Frenchman JJ.

There were five of them in the Mi-17 when they lifted off from Cockerill Barracks. The crew included the engineer Sindaba, Fred Marafono and two side gunners in the rear, with Nellis as pilot. Nellis tells what happened next:

One of the gunners was Mohammed, a Nigerian soldier seconded to us who had proved useful in some of the tight spots we’d found ourselves in.

When I arrived at the GPS position that Lifeguard had given me, I found the place deserted. All I could do was set a course for Kono. However, this time I flew a little higher, aware that if the guys heard me coming, they’d call on the radio. Throughout, I tried to raise them, but got no reaction. I was very much aware that we were within sight of rebel positions and were picking up a bit of ground fire, some of it quite heavy. That’s when Fred came forward to the cockpit and said the bastards were using 12.7mms and 14.5mms against us, which was cheery. Finally, we were able to talk to the men who, by then, I regarded as ‘our people’.

When Nellis finally managed to connect, the men trapped on the ground said they were only a couple of kilometres away, but because there was a heavy enemy presence, they’d hidden in a gulley. According to Nellis, this meant more problems because it was a particularly hot day and there were 16 of them. With their weapons and kit, he had a real fear that they might be too heavy for take-off. From past experience, he knew that when ground forces actually ask for a hot extraction, it is usually almost too late.