The Timor Man (61 page)

There were a number of possibilities according to the intelligence report. The crate sizes and numbers were almost identical in every way with those in the earlier photographs and, should the contents be the same, then the
M.V. Setia Budi
could be carrying a Soviet Skean (SS-5) ballistic missile on board as deck cargo. The report went on to describe the deadly weapon.

The Pentagon had data showing that the intermediate range missile was another of the liquid-propelled series which could be fitted with nuclear or thermonuclear warheads. The Skean series had a range of some two thousand miles, or approximately three thousand two hundred kilometres, and was regarded as the ultimate in postwar development applied to the old German V-2 series rocket. According to other satellite intelligence reports it was confirmed that the Soviets had deployed approximately one hundred of the missiles each with a warhead capacity of up to one megaton yield. These were housed in underground silo-launchers scattered around Europe with a few along their borders with China.

Once the information had been absorbed and acting upon White House directives, the Pentagon issued the order and signals were flashed across the oceans. These were intercepted then confirmed by the Fleet's Admiral.

As the freighter approached the coastline of the former Portuguese colony, approximately one hundred nautical miles from its probable destination, the Captain and crew of the M.V.
Setia Budi
were startled by the incredible noise which ruptured the vessel. In those few brief seconds as the two conventional warheads struck the ship almost simultaneously, cutting its hull in two with the massive force of detonation, all the men on the bridge died.

The ship sank in less than eleven minutes. There were only two survivors and both claimed that their vessel had struck an old mine, taking the freighter, its master and most of its crew to the bottom before anything could be done.

Having confirmed the kill, the United States Lafayette Class nuclear submarine turned back once more on its track and headed for the deep waters of the Ombai Wetar Trench, where its presence was practically impossible to detect.

In the following weeksAmerican SEALS posing as tourists sailing through to Singapore from Australia visited the site. They required only three dives before they were satisfied with their conclusions, supported by the sensitive sonar instruments on board their yacht. These had suggested the unexpected results even before they had even considered the physical sightings as being necessary.

The Presidential advisor read the report and advised the country's leader that the threat had been removed. The shipments, containers, and box identifications were deliberately meant to be misleading. The Soviets had just been playing at their old tricks to test the American's response. The deck cargo had been nothing more than a series of empty crates and containers.

It had all been another Russian hoax.

 

Timor

Bambang had managed but a few hours sleep before the heavy downpour forced his platoon to break camp and continue their mission. The trail was slippery. The underbrush ripped at their uniforms, cutting through the camouflaged material supplied by some distant clothing factory in Hong Kong. At least they had reasonable fire-power when the time came for them to fight, as he knew it would. The enlisted men all carried the American M-16s with the exception of the Sergeant who struggled under the weight and additional rounds he carried for the heavy M-60.

Bambang knew that the weight of the ten kilo weapon would be taking its toll on his most experienced soldier, but someone had to carry the machine gun and it might as well be the man who would eventually be the one to fire it.

He looked across at the soldier who continuously slipped with every step. The M72 LAW didn't appear to be any the worse for wear from the constant beating it had received. Bambang considered taking the rocket launcher himself as he felt that it would be called upon early in the engagement and he preferred knowing that it was in responsible hands. With its three hundred metre range he expected to be able to keep the guerrillas well at bay. During their briefings they had been advised that the enemy was poorly equipped. Some, they had been told, carried antiquated weaponry, while only a few had the Soviet Ak-47s. They were practically guaranteed by the Major who carried out their Intelligence briefing that there would be no likelihood of their encountering any real resistance or, for that matter, any sophisticated weaponry.

Somebody should have told the enemy,
Bambang thought, remembering the bodies hanging from the trees in their harnesses. The men were demoralized. They were tired. They were wet, and very, very hungry. Captain Bambang knew that he would have to achieve their object quickly before his men tired to exhaustion. The point reported a small compound not far around the next ridge, and he decided to seek temporary refuge and shelter, enabling his men to eat and get out of the weather for a short spell. The villagers would have prepared rice. The one thing you could count on in this world, the Javanese officer thought, was that regardless of location, someone, somewhere within spitting distance of wherever you were would have rice on the boil.

They scrutinized the perimeter fence before calling out to the villagers. There was no answer and the sergeant called out again.

“
Tell them we will pay them for food. Tell them we will do them no harm. Tell the..
” the Captains instructions were interrupted as a voice

called out to them to go away.

“
Pergi! Go!
” the frightened voice demanded..

“
We're not your enemies, we won't do you any harm!
” the non-com called back hoping that the simple people there would not panic.

Minutes passed and the tall gate opened. At first, just a little, but sufficient for an ageing head to peer out and reassure itself that these soldiers really meant no harm.

“
Why do you come here?
” the old man demanded.

“
We need food, Pak.
”

The withered body of the little man was now in full view.

“
You eat, then you go, yes?
” he asked.

“
Ya, Pak, we will leave as soon as we have eaten,
” they promised.

Carefully, in single file, they entered the village compound.

They huddled below the huts which had been built on stilts, the ground was filthy and mud greeted them wherever they looked. It was a poor and desolate place to be, the men had thought, although thankful for the break to rest and eat. The village people fed the soldiers who in turn rewarded their hosts with warm smiles and a fistful of Rupiah. The old village headman shook his head sadly. He explained that they had little use for the paper money as it could only be used down along the coast and in the large towns.

They asked instead for one of the soldiers' watches. Captain Bambang sadly agreed and he, as platoon Commander, unhappily surrendered his Seiko to the headman. He knew it was extortion but felt saddened by the scene around him. These poor village people had given what was probably a large portion of their food stocks to his men. They didn't understand the conflict and were merely innocent bystanders to the fighting taking place all around them.

Bambang removed the wrist watch slowly. The old wrinkled face broke into a wide toothless smile as he accepted the piece. He examined the gift and noticed writing on the back cover. He asked the Javanese what the inscription meant as he was illiterate.

“
Always be safe, Bambang, love Wanti,
” he read aloud, explaining to the village elder that it was a gift from his sister.

The old man nodded and looked up into the young officer's sad brown eyes. Then he returned the watch and walked away.

Their spirits lifted by the hot steamed rice and vegetables, the soldiers departed. They continued around the mountain and descended down its slopes, the trees and undergrowth, becoming much heavier as they advanced, impeded their movements. Bambang continued to monitor his men, as did his sergeant. They were already beginning to feel the effects of the constant downpours and inhospitable surrounds. They continued down another slope, the non-com cursing both his men and the slippery soil, saturated by incessant rain.

The men were nervous now, sensing that the enemy was near. They were able to increase their pace for awhile as the trail moved away from the thick growth and provided the men with the opportunity to move a little more freely. As the afternoon hours passed, Bambang decided that they would establish their camp earlier rather than later, permitting the men to rest well before any encounter.

They established camp observing their instructions not to start a fire. Bambang had wanted the men to refrain from smoking their
kretek
as he knew that a non-smoker could distinguish the easily identifiable aroma of the Indonesian cigarette, putting them at risk, but the sergeant indicated that it would be all right as the men were tired. And jumpy.

Conditions were not much better than the previous night. Bambang slept for a few hours, rose when awoken by his non-com and together they checked the perimeter before returning to take some fruit from their limited ration packs.

The corporal sat huddled against a coconut palm. He judged from its condition that they had come a considerable distance down from the mountain slopes as this tree was covered with full ripe clusters of the hard shelled fruit. Bambang nudged the soldier, indicating the coconuts hanging directly overhead. The corporal nodded accepting his mistake and moved away from the potential danger. The impact from the weight of a ripened coconut could be deadly and Bambang did not wish to lose any of his men so foolishly.

 

As daybreak arrived the soldiers prepared themselves for the day's patrol. Those who were Moslem prayed, facing the west, in the direction of Mecca, while the two who were not just went about their ablutions silently praying to their own gods that they would see this day through. The platoon set out and within a few hours made their first contact with the enemy, when they heard the sound of weapons being fired.

Bambang wisely ordered one of his men to reconnoiter the area, and waited for his report.

An hour passed and when the point man did not return the Captain assumed the worst and ordered the men to prepare their weapons for he knew that the enemy were close. They proceeded cautiously, listening for any tell tale sign of the enemy's position, nervously anticipating the encounter. Ahead lay a clearing but the missing soldier was nowhere to be seen.

Last night's campsite, Bambang concluded, as he identified the tell tale signs. He barked an order and the men obeyed.

They encircled the area, but there was nothing.

Bambang considered the possibility that the man he'd placed on point had deserted. It was unfortunately common with some of the first timers. It was just so simple to do and he'd wondered why many more had not deserted the same way. Once away from their units all they had to do was throw their military gear away and slip back into any village then hide.

Bambang instructed his men to spread out and remain alert. The minutes dragged by and still there was nothing. He was worried that the guerrillas may have doubled back behind them somehow. He discussed this with his senior NCO, a veteran of the early Sixties invasion of Irian and the
Ganyang Malaysia Konfrontasi
era. Many of the veterans had left the military, disillusioned after the entire exercise became a totally useless effort on the government's part to not really wage war, but merely distract the people at home from their economic problems.

The sergeant suggested that it was unlikely that the guerrillas would remain down in the lower areas as they risked observation by aerial reconnaissance flights. “
Maybe they have a supply base back up in the mountain,
” he advised his officer.

“
They would expect to be followed,
” Bambang had replied, anxious that they might have missed the enemy.

The sergeant thought about this for a moment and replied.

“
They must be poorly equipped. If they were expecting us then why haven't they attacked?
”

As Bambang listened to the experienced veteran he suddenly realized his mistake. They had entered a trap!

It took all his strength to control the sudden flood of fear that gripped his stomach. He crouched low and called out to his men, warning them to hold fast, where they were and not to advance any further. He hissed at the soldier next to him to keep low and, as the man crouched forward, his body suddenly jerked up and was flung over backwards as the crashing sound of the bullet ripped through the morning air. Crack!

Immediately his men panicked. Lacking in experience and caught by fear, they fired wildly as they could not see their targets in the thick undergrowth. The air was suddenly filled with the screaming cacophony only a fire-fight could produce. Explosions ripped through the trees and automatic fire produced the most incredible shock waves on all sides of the action.