The Congo Affair chapter 2 ~ "On the Run"

[mlaw]

 
              


The situation in the capital city of Leopoldville had gone from bad to worse too quickly and being cut off from getting to the airport with    the other refugees, Solo and Kuryakin found themselves preparing to run for their lives as the ruling forces had changed places. UNCLE was no longer welcome, as were any foreigners at the moment.

The quickly growing conflict had taken on aspects of an anti-colonial struggle, along with a secessionist war with the province of Katanga, a U.N. peacekeeping operation, and a Cold War clandestine battle between the United States and the Soviet Union.

Soviet troops under the guise of advisors had been secreted into the country, Belgian troops were trying to get people out of the country and were massing their troops in Katanga with United Nations troops on the way to try to help calm the insanity and protect the innocent from the Simba rebels who were playing a leading part in the frenzy.

Operatives of the C.I.A. were there, along with Soviet intelligence somewhere... The reality of it all was that no one, including civilians, were safe. There were just too many variables, too many agendas.

The leader of this revolution were former members of Parti Solidaire Africain, a political party that had been very active in the Belgian Congo. The PSA quickly became one of the best organized of the parties that emerged, and established a strong base amongst the rural communities of the Kwango and Kwilu Districts.

Along with the Mouvement National Congolais the PSA was unusual among the new parties in that it did not identify with one ethnic group but rather preached socialism. The sudden elimination of Patrice Lumumba as Prime Minister saw the PSA go into opposition and the rebellion that broke out first in Kwilu was the work of a wing of the PSA under a Maoist named Pierre Mulele. Politically, were they were now leaning to the left. But once the coup had taken place, what these groups preached, and what was practiced by their rebel armies were akin to ethnic cleansing among their own people.

Most of their followers were tribesmen from the provinces of Kivu and Orientale, the majority of whom came from traditional African cultures with animist beliefs. Animism was a religious view, believing that 'natural physical entities... animals, plants, and even inanimate objects or phenomena possessed a spiritual power.'

The tribal soldiers called themselves 'Simba' as they had been told by shamans they would be immune to bullets when they fought, and would be transformed into "Simba", the Swahili word for lion. It became their shield, making them fearless, and empowered them to deal out abuse and death without so much as a second thought. It didn't matter if the victims were innocent women and children...it was the Simba belief that they were in the right and had the great spirit of the lion to protect them.

The fighting started in Thyssville, in the western part of the of Congo, lying on a short branch off the Matadi-Kinshasa Railway, and the seeds of revolution quickly spread to the rest of the country. The President, Kasa-Vubu, declared prime minister Patrice Lumumba deposed and vice versa. The stalemate between the two men ended with the arrest of Lumumba. He was flown to the mining province of Katanga, which by that time had declared a secession from Léopoldville under the leadership of Moïse Tshombe with Belgian government and troops backing him.

"At least they haven't executed Lumumba," Napoleon said, as he and his partner quickly sorted through their backpacks filled with the barest of necessities, a change or two of basic clothing, and the supplies they'd scrounged at the general store. The had one machete, and two canteens, and enough rations to last them only a week.

They were the few things the UNCLE agents could only get their hands on in a hurry as it wasn't safe to be seen in public; the color of their skin made them a bit obvious. The rebel Simbas had already invaded parts of the the capitol and were taking prisoners of white people; If they were captured, and found out to be UNCLE agents; they would no doubt be executed very publicly.

The way to the airport had been cut off and the last of the flights evacuating refugees and foreigners being run by Belgian military troops were long over.

It was impossible for a helicopter extraction as there were none close by, and the region was so unstable and violent at the moment that the chances were it would probably be shot down by bazookas. Public transportation was out of the question as well, and at this point was barely running. No, Solo and Kuryakin were on their own, and a long, arduous trek through the jungle was their only option at the moment. It was either that or stay put and risk capture and most definitely death.

"For the moment," Illya, ever the determinist, responded to his partner's comment, about the prime minister's life expectancy.

He tied the strings closed on his pack, and pulled his Special, checking it, and putting two extra clips into the pockets of his khaki shirt, His clothing was disheveled and too big for him. His way of thinking, if he didn't look all crisp and clean, he would stand out less. Much to Solo's dislike, the Russian rumpled up his clothing as well, as Napoleon was too neat, as always.

"And lose that kerchief around your neck as you look like a dandy," the Russian barked at him.

"You know you really can play the fatalist at the wrong time," Napoleon said, still hoping Patrice Lumumba, would survive. "And there's nothing wrong with my bandana," he quipped.

"It is not a bandana, its is a fancy silk neckerchief, now get rid of it," Illya practically growled, "and I am simply being pragmatic." He was not in the best of moods given his aversion to the extreme heat, and today the weather was scorching hot as well as humid. He was finding it hard to breath at times because of the temperature.

"All right all right, keep your shirt on," Solo groused, untying the scarf and tossing it to the bed. "Satisfied?" He didn't tell his partner he had another one in his backpack...

"Immensely, now we had better get going, the sun is starting to set," Illya paused for a second. "And I had not planned to take my shirt off, if you were wondering."

Napoleon shook his head, not even bothering to explain colloquialism this time.

Illya handed over his ID card to Napoleon, and together both gold UNCLE cards were burned in a large crystal ashtray along with their passports, They kept only their false identity papers and Belgian passports that indicated they were businessmen and that was all they would carry, for all the good it would do. The rumors of indiscriminate killing told them no one was safe...

They made their way through the darkened streets of Leopoldville, ducking into the shadows when lorries drove by loaded with \ troops, and though there was a curfew, they had to risk it as they might not get a second chance to escape as the Simbas were slowly taking command of the city, a section at a time. They managed to secret themselves onto a truck, part of a supply convoy loaded with refugees leaving the city, supposedly heading to Katanga, or so they heard being said in French.

For once a language barrier existed as Illya did not speak any of the 242 dialects that existed among the more remote population centers in the Congo, though French was the official language of the country since its inception under Belgian rule, it was spoken mostly among the educated groups in the country, and not by the indigenous population.

There would no doubt be a gamut of checkpoints to get through even before they reached the outskirts of Leopoldville, and once getting out of the city, they'd stay with the lorry as long as the could, then take to hiking it through the more rugged, rainforest covered terrain.

It would be a tense and dangerous escape, having to avoid the rebels, government forces, as well as the wildlife.

The viciousness of this rebellion was not just politically motivated but was in part, driven by ethnic divisions, tribe against tribe. The fighting was widespread and brutal, with bodies scattered everywhere the two agents traveled, seeing innocent women and children murdered because they were of the wrong tribe. It had little to do with the political coup, and the upheaval with the government was merely an excuse to kill.

Nothing could be done...at least by two lone UNCLE agents.