In Search of Enemies - A CIA Story - John Stockwell

(128] IN S E ARCH OF E N EMIES
ances. They subsisted on sparse rations foraged in local villages and
were supplied with such weapons, ammunition, and medicines as
were available. They were recruited on the basis of loyalty to family
and tribe and, although many would flee combat, others were drawn
by the historic motivations of war: aggression, camaraderie, excitement,
and the promise of wealth when their side won.
Thirty kilometers out of Ambriz we turned suddenly onto a dirt
road in a grove of commercially planted palm trees. After several
kilometers this led us into a clearing on a small hill where a walled
compound encircled large warehouses and outlying buildings. A
large sign proclaimed FAZENDA LIFUNE- the Lifune plantation. It
was Roberto's forward command post. There were sixteen listless
soldiers and two 2-4 mortars. To one side a half-dozen women and
children were gathered around a cooking pot on a low fire, sitting
flat on the bare ground with their legs straight in front. I reflected
on the sobriety of the FNLA forces I had seen so far. These camp
followers were wives and family. I had seen no bars, prostitutes, or
drinking; the lovely women for which Angola had some fame were
all in Luanda.
I thought ruefully of my paramilitary colleagues who clamored
to get into the Angola program because it was the only war there
was. For most of them, tours in Vietnam had been exotic experiences,
with little danger or difficult work, and a gluttony of sensual
pleasures. A famous unposed snapshot of one of the agency's
upcountry heroes told the story: he is draped in a lawn chair, his
feet propped against the sandbags of a bunker, reading the morning's
cable traffic, holding a Heineken beer in his right hand
while a Vietnamese .. dolly" manicures his left. Assignments in
Angola were going to be different.
The FNLA had been on the run two weeks before when Mobutu
and St. Martin had insisted that Roberto take personal command of
the battlefield, bringing with him weapons and armored cars from
Kinshasa. Now the MPLA was retreating and Roberto was flushed
with his successes. War was easy; they would soon be in Luanda
itself. Roberto was dominating every conversation, making every
decision, inspecting weapons, thrusting soldiers onto trucks, even
checking the gas in a Volkswagen's tank. When we got stuck in the
sand he was the first out of the car, tearing out grass clumps and
thrusting them under the tires. Falstaff repeatedly whispered to me