Eugene de Kock by Anemari Jansen

Author:Anemari Jansen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: apartheid, apartheid crimes, askari, assassin for the state, Border War, C-Max, death squad, Eugene de Kock, Glory Sedibe, Japie Maponya, Koevoet, parole, Prime Evil, Pumla Gobodo-Madikizela, Section C1, security forces, security police, South African Police, South African nonfiction, State assassins, SWAPO, testimony, Third Force, Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Vlakplaas, Vlakplaas murders
Publisher: Tafelberg
Published: 2015-05-19T04:00:00+00:00

On 12 December 1986 there were discussions in General [Johan] Van der Merwe’s office about September Machinery, an Umkhonto we Sizwe unit in Swaziland that was giving the Security Branch a headache. Glory Sedibe was the head of September Machinery.

In terms of an agreement between the South African security police and the Swazi police, Sedibe [after his arrest by the Swaziland police] was held in a small, unremarkable police station with only one policeman on duty at night. This was to give the South African Security Branch the opportunity to kidnap Sedibe and bring him to South Africa. He was well known to the Security Branch as an excellent and successful operative: astute, one who knew the basic rules of security and counter-espionage and was consequently difficult to track down.

On our arrival at the police station, we approached it from a distance to avoid attracting the police official’s attention. Only one light was on in the police station; it was locked up and there was no sign of the policeman. Not a good sign. It was raining, freezing cold in fact. I forced my AK-47 bayonet into a small gap in a window in the administration building, then climbed through with my model 92 Beretta pistol and silencer ready in my hand. I had no doubt that either we had received shit information, or that the situation had changed since we had crossed the border into Swaziland.

The other Vlakplaas operatives followed me in dead silence. This was an ambush. In my mind I could already smell the gunpowder and see the blood, shit and snot spatter as I had seen so often in the past, especially with fights at close quarters.

I heard a shuffle in the corridor and saw a young Swazi policeman with a G3 automatic assault rifle creeping up on us. At three metres I aimed my pistol directly at his face and told him, softly, to put his weapon down. He looked at me, flicked his eyes to his rifle barrel, looked back up at me and saw in my eyes that I knew his safety was on. In my eyes he saw what he had seen in the pistol barrel aimed directly between his eyes – his death. He lowered his weapon, slowly.

Our immediate problem was to find out how many more policemen and weapons there were. We then found the person in charge, who had no rifle. If he’d had one, we would have bled to death in that police station in Swaziland that night.

I took the keys from the official in charge. Opening the cells, we came upon one cell that had three people in it. We locked the two police officials in the cell and chased the other two prisoners – two stock thieves – out into the cold. They were highly annoyed, and moaned about the cold and being fucked around by a bunch of strangers.

Meanwhile, the other six Vlakplaas operatives were fighting Sedibe for their lives. Desperation and the litres of

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