In Search of Enemies - A CIA Story - John Stockwell

Roberto [121]
a small colonial house to the indescribable pleasure of the first beer.
The communicators and their fifteen boxes had disappeared into the
communications center down the street.
Portuguese commandos in camouflage uniforms came and went
through the house. Two Africans who seemed important disappeared
inside. At the end of a long hall three drab Portuguese women
were preparing food.
This was the new central command post, to which the FNLA had
fled three weeks before when the MPLA pushed them out of Luanda.
Seventy miles north of the capital, it was safe from raids and surprise
attack, but still close enough to support a counteroffensive. Though
not really a port, Ambriz provided a haven for small boats which
could carry messages and even raid down the coast.
One of the Portuguese commandos joined me, a Captain Bento, as
he introduced himself. He was forming a "commando unit" with
white officers and black troops; according to him, the Africans were
"too stupid to lead anything," although they could be shaped into
fair soldiers. All this was said in a loud voice, and without concern
that African commanders were listening nearby.
When Bento went back inside the command post, as if on cue
another white appeared, one who had been among the machine-gun
wielders at the airport. Introducing himself as "Falstaff," he too
seemed eager to talk. Ten days later, back at headquarters, I would
trace Falstaff in the CIA computer and learn that he was a Brazilian
journalist who had been on the CIA payroll years before. He had not
lost the habit of reporting. Captain Bento was, according to Falstaff,
a "famous antiguerrilla fighter" from Mozambique, but I should
beware of him, for he and a Colonel Santos Castro were rivals in the
FNLA command. Each would attempt to draw me into his web.
According to Falstaff, forty Portuguese army veterans had cast
their lot with the FNLA. In reality they were Angolans, white Angolans,
who had never lived in Portugal. In any case they were not
mercenaries; they received no money from the FNLA, but rather
were fighting for their homes and their businesses, for the only life
they knew. This was a familiar refrain for colonials who had fallen
on hard times.
Bento was an exception, a seasoned fighter who had followed the
crest of conflict from Mozambique to Angola, to indulge his passion
- anti-Marxist wars.