They call me Trinity

The battle of 3 October

This day, October 3rd, would end like no other during our operational tour of Angola in 1987 (known as Operation Moduler). Awake by 3am, weapons, vehicles and personnel battle-readied for what we'd already been informed was likely to be significant contact with the ‘enemy’. Although, we'd heard that before and the last time we engaged this particular Brigade, the contact had lasted no more than an hour and although there were plenty of bullets whizzing about from enemies positions, relatively speaking there hadn't been much of a threat to our heavily armoured vehicles. Sure they'd lobbed grenades and RPG's at us, and yes there’d been one fatality on our side, which had happened because the Infantry boys had been deployed alongside our vehicles, and humans make for very soft targets.  What I didn’t know as we started out was that by the end of this day we would’ve torn up hundreds of humans.

As before with every previous planned contact with the ‘terrorist’ FAPLA forces I ensured that my boots, socks, undies, tank-suit and body parts were super clean…. Well, I didn’t want to meet my maker with dirty body parts now did I? Let me clarify, I had absolutely no intention of pegging-off in this terrible conflict, but this was proper war and a lot of people were dying, yeah its true that 15 or 20 times more soldiers were dying on the opposition team but these were death games, and one well aimed bomb, missile or projectile and you were out! The stakes could not be any higher.

In those days I was a pretty laid-back guy, but I took no chances when preparing for battle, and others relied on my decisions, get it wrong and you all go, or maybe you live with the guilt of knowing you fucked up and someone else died.

My vehicle call-sign: Three Two Alpha (32A) is part of a squadron of 12 fighting vehicles, and two command vehicles. We’re known as ‘Charlie Squadron’, our emblem a clenched black fist holding a bolt of lightning. At 4am the 12 vehicle commanders check communications and confirm battle readiness. Then the order comes down the radio-net, ‘All vehicles start’, a surge of adrenaline as I realise we’ve just moved one stage closer to combat. I immediately inform David, my Driver, who hits the starter switch instantly kicking to life the powerful 3.5litre Turbocharged engine, housed in its protective steel cocoon 3 metres behind me. Within seconds, the forest around me bursts into a cacophony of deep rumbling engines, the hydraulics systems begin to kick in and then moments later, ‘Charlie Squadron, let’s move out’. I relay the order to my crew, ‘Okay, lads we’re underway, let’s move out’. After two months in the combat zone my crew and I have become a well oiled unit, I hadn’t had the same crew all year, we’d lost some personnel during the long year in the militarized zone, colloquially known as ‘the border’, the driver who was extremely capable had come to me unwillingly, he really disliked being in the army and all forms of authority, and I was 2nd in command of our troop of four vehicles, the gunner had been one of the least ‘paraat’, or disciplined during training phase but with some additional coaching since he’d joined my crew had already proved himself more than capable, he responded unquestioningly to my targeting orders, and today would demonstrate his  bravery and accuracy in the heat of battle countless times.

 As planned Charlie Squadron was leading our Battle Group into today’s contact. The ghostly green shadows of the night-vision goggles offered sketchy speckled images of the world around me, but I can clearly make out the single penlight in its protective steel casing on the rear of the vehicle ahead and I can easily distinguish trees and other potential hazards. The first time we got to use these expensive goggles I was amazed by the level of detail even in very low-light conditions, they magnified light so much that if someone dragged on a cigarette at 20 paces it was as though they’d switched a torch on and using a cigarette lighter whilst wearing the cumbersome headgear would temporarily blind you, so I couldn’t imagine ever going into battle using night-vision because the muzzle-flash from a 90mm Cannon spewed flame two-metres either side of the gun. Bang and you’re blinded! Cumbersome as they were, the night-vision goggles were the best means of ‘safely’ navigating the pitch-black heavily forested areas of South-Eastern Angola before sunrise when headlights could not be used for fear of clearly identifying our position to the enemy forces.