THE MERCENARY WHO WAS LEGENDARY FOR HIS BRUTALITY
Roger Faulques was badly wounded and taken into captivity by the Viet Minh. Only when their captive was close to the point of death was he returned by his captors to his French compatriots.
Roger Faulques was badly wounded and taken into captivity by the Viet Minh. Only when their captive was close to the point of death was he returned by his captors to his French compatriots.
Like two scared hunted deer, we held each other up for support. I was alarmed by a sound of rustling in the nearby foliage. Glancing to my right, what I then saw shocked me to the core. Against the lighter shadows, I could make out half-crouching running figures. Each native was armed with a panga as they furtively attempted to head us off.
The action opens in an African shanty town bar frequented by two hardened White mercenaries. As the two quietly enjoy a beer, the bar is visited by several menacing African nationalists demanding funds for their terrorist cause.
The mercenary was under no illusions. Instinctively, he sensed that on this occasion, he was on his own. McLeod was confronted by a street fighter who would not only murder but would take psychopathic pleasure in mutilating his intended victim. Keeping his distance, the city’s visitor watched warily the fistful of broken glass glinting in the club’s reflecting orb lights.
Drawn into the Congo Crisis and Biafra War of Independence, the Sudan, South Africa and Rhodesia Bush Wars, the soldiers-of-fortune numbered in their ranks legends as Colonel Mike Hoare, ‘Black Jack’ Schramme, veteran Colonel Bob Denard, and Major Siegfried Müller.
During his service with the Wehrmacht Müller had fought in the Polish and French campaigns. Siegfried Müller also experienced life and many near-death experiences on the Eastern Front. Things didn’t get much better in the Western campaigns during which Kongo-Müller was seriously wounded.
Their favoured method of killing was to make a nun drink gasoline and then cut her open to set her on fire. Children were tied between Jeeps and torn apart. Crucifixion and castration were the norm. Only those who were there would understand (the scale of gratuitous depravities).’
Glancing to my right I saw a sight that shocked me to the core. Silhouetted against the lighter shadows, I could make out half-crouching running figures.
As an aside to Goldie Hastings’s girlfriend standing helplessly looking on, McLeod grinned. ‘Turn away; what you are about to see is not for a lady’s eyes even if you’re no lady.’
Scattered along the poorly maintained road serving the longest maritime docking system in Britain were many ships that passed in the night. Travellers came; some stayed a while and suddenly vanished never to be seen again. During the 1970s Liverpool’s waterfront was a watering hole for the footloose. Among them, many men don’t make friends, rootless wanderers looking for meaning in their lives.
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