Mercenaries: No Grounding the Geese

South Africa spares the leaders of a coup attempt

The atmosphere in the Pretoria courtroom last week was hardly serious. The five defendants, decked out in colorful beach shirts and khakis, smiled and waved to security policemen as they appeared briefly in the dock to be freed on bail. They had good reason to be happy. Despite international anger, the South African government opted to deal lightly, almost casually, with their crime: the hijacking of an Air India jetliner the previous week, after an abortive attempt to overthrow the socialist government of Seychelles.

A Cabinet meeting earlier endorsed the unconditional freeing of 39 of the 44 mercenaries, who were warned to keep a low profile and not to discuss the coup attempt. The other five, including the raid’s leader, Colonel Michael (“Mad Mike”) Hoare, 62, a veteran mercenary who achieved renown of a sort in the Congo during the ’60s, got off lightly. Instead of being charged with hijacking, which could have brought a mandatory sentence of five to 30 years, the five were accused of kidnaping, a lesser crime with no mandatory penalty. Moreover, the charge may not stick, since the mercenaries apparently had no intention of holding the passengers for ransom.

The unexpected leniency was immediately assailed at home and abroad. Opposition Member of Parliament Brian Bamford described the release as “scandalous” and insisted that it would “add fuel to suspicions about South Africa’s involvement.” The U.S. State Department drew attention to a 1978 pact between seven major industrialized nations that would cut air flights to countries that harbor hijackers. As expected, the loudest protests came from Seychelles President Albert René. After forlornly requesting extradition of the raiders, he asked the United Nations to conduct an inquiry and charged again that Pretoria had organized the coup. That accusation was buttressed by a Durban newspaper report that several of the mercenaries were South African policemen.

The 44 mercenaries who made it back to South Africa were doubly lucky. Officials in Seychelles, a nation of 92 islands 1,000 miles off the East African coast, say that there were 52 raiders in all. Some had apparently arrived in Mahé”, the main island, earlier and were lying low in hotels when the main body of mercenaries landed, posing as rugby players. The coup was then triggered prematurely when a mercenary’s gun was discovered. Since the ensuing airport Shootout, at least 500 visiting tourists have been confined to the islands’ luxury hotels. Five mercenaries have been arrested, leaving perhaps three others dead or hiding in the hills from the continuing security dragnet.

Last week, amid offers from Libyan Leader Muammar Gaddafi to provide troops to protect Seychelles “from U.S. threats,” two of the five arrested mercenaries were paraded for a programmed press conference. Fated for a show trial and under heavy guard, they wore handcuffs that bit into their wrists. To no one’s surprise, they accused former Seychelles President James Mancham, exiled after René’s successful 1977 coup, of arranging the raid. Mancham denied the charge, but his denial was damaged when one of the arrested mercenaries was found to have a tape recording of his voice intended for broadcast after a successful coup.

The incident offered a fascinating glimpse into the world of the modern mercenary. The men who bungled the Seychelles coup are the new breed of Hoare’s legendary Wild Geese*: would-be soldiers of fortune, usually of right-wing persuasion, who fought for pay in Mozambique or Angola and staged coup attempts in the Camores or Dominica. Most of those involved in the Seychelles operation probably did not know who backed the job. They were simply paid $1,000 each to oust a leftist regime, and promised a further $10,000 if the coup succeeded. But they failed. “They were the fledglings, not the real Wild Geese. Maybe that’s how they came to mess it up,” says Douglas Lord, a Johannesburg store manager and veteran of the Congo mercenary campaign. “But the fact is that nowadays there are more potential Wild Geese around than back in the ’60s.”

Who are these new mercenaries? Some are gun freaks, dropouts from society trying to live out macho fantasies. But not many. Most are young, white Western veterans of their countries’ elite armed forces—such as the U.S.’s Green Berets and Britain’s Special Air Service. They are Italians, Germans, former Rhodesians and South Africans, all “fit young men,” as Hoare’s original newspaper ad for the Wild Geese put it, “looking for employment with a difference.”

The typical mercenary adopts his lethal trade out of boredom, joblessness or rightist political views. He misses the excitement and discipline of military life and seeks a quick fortune. Many are readers of Soldier of Fortune, a U.S. magazine that specializes in the trade of war. The publication serves as a bridge between idle mercenaries and potential employers. Says Publisher Robert K. Brown: “It’s the ‘outs’ that want ‘in’ who do the hiring.” There are probably thousands of men available at any one time across the globe for mercenary operations, Brown believes. “They see a just cause. And they are men that are born to fight, who like to ply their trade and enjoy the challenge.”

Between combat jobs, the mercenaries are photographers, actors, accountants and farmers. They practice unarmed combat, play war games on the weekends and hang around certain cafés and bars of southern Africa and Western Europe waiting for contracts through the grapevine. A typical hangout in Brussels advertises “Simba, the beer of Katanga. ” Inside, empty cartridges are lined above the counter and photos of mercenaries cover the walls.

Some of the mercenaries who haunt the place use right-wing watchwords like “dignity,” “honor” and “Western decadence.” “They are disgusted with Western society and want to prevent the Soviets from taking possession of Africa,” says the owner, a former mercenary. Adds a Belgian journalist who covers the mercenary beat: “They are often out of work, racist but not politically aware. They think that everything is the fault of the migrant workers. They are not very sharp intellectually, are fascinated by weapons and very much into the cult of strength, virility and male camaraderie.” Eventually, the mercenary ethos becomes a way of life. For some, it is also a way of death. —By Jay D. Palmer. Reported by Peter Hawthorne/Johannesburg

*Hoare adopted the Wild Goose emblem for his commandos in the Congo, and it became notorious in 1964 when the mercenaries “liberated” Stanleyville from the “Simba” rebels.