He was feared. Often when negotiations got out of hand he was known to reach across the table and lash out directly at whoever on the opposing team presented him with the most resistance. He lived to gamble. The amounts he'd laid on horses were legendary. He even owned his own stables on several continents.
The final choice had been left to Anderson. The Government had enough problems of its own just maintaining its authority over Parliament without the added complications of the approaching regional conflict.
âBloody self-serving politicians,' he'd thought when delegated the tasteless task of finalizing negotiations with this man. Anderson was exasperated by the knowledge that they were blinded by their own self-serving interests and their domestic difficulties to the extent that, if they weren't careful, the problem would escalate until finally becoming unresolvable. Under pressure, he'd agreed to finalize the arrangements. John Anderson had elected to run with this choice of the major players out of those who owned the tabloids in Australia. He had feared that the others may have rejected the proposal out of hand due to political differences with the new leadership in Canberra.
The man sitting in front of him was basically apolitical. Except when it came to amassing his ever growing fortune.
Anderson
anticipated that in the event that the operation came unstuck, he could count on this man's greed and general absence of morals to bury the remains of the operation before creating any embarrassment for either his department or the Prime Minister. He recognized that it was essential that he maintained a stable working relationship with the Australian leader. Without him, it would be practically impossible to fund the covert operations and operate without the same bureaucratic procedures which had stifled ASIO's growth and thwarted so many ASIS operations over the years.
Anderson
looked across at the media giant and waited. The heavy set square-jawed entrepreneur sneered at the suggestion that his assistance would guarantee him a closer working relationship with the Government's âpowers-to-be'.
“I couldn't give a shit about those mongrel bastards in Canberra. They are a bunch of wimps who'd sell their souls to whoever provides them with the key to the House. ”
“Whatever,” was Anderson's response.
“Do we have a deal then?” he asked.
“Let's just get it straight for the record then. ”
Anderson
repeated the arrangements, hiding his dislike for the bullet-shaped head towering over him.
“You provide the vessel, we provide the crew. We use it as a communications centre for relay purposes. You get to send some of your journos into the arena. We dissect the military sensitive material and your papers have the first opportunity to run the rest directly from the front line. At all times it must appear to be a private operation and you are not to lend your name to the ship's presence in the area. Also, the journos are your responsibility and in the event that they do suffer any injuries, we are not to be held responsible in any way. ”
The Intelligence Chief assumed that tacit agreement had been arrived at discreetly between the PM and the entrepreneur and whatever the additional
quid pro quo
might have been, Anderson was certain that details would never be disclosed.
“Is that the lot?” the gruff bullying tone demanded.
“No,” Anderson answered, determined not to permit the other to dominate the meeting. “As agreed, your papers will support the Indonesian position. And, as discussed, your television licensing applications will, in turn, receive the Government's support. ”
“Set it up with Charlie. He will act as the intermediary between our offices. ”
“Good. That's it then. I will inform the P M. ”
“You can shove it up his arse as far as I'm concerned. Just ensure that the bastard keeps his word. ”
Anderson
nodded and left the powerful brusque figure standing, peering through the window of his office, surveying the influential empire he controlled.
That afternoon John Anderson reported back to the Prime Minister who, having received an assurance that the arrangements were completed and, recognizing the commitments made on his behalf, sighed and just motioned him away.
Within days the ship departed from Sydney late at night and headed directly to Darwin, where it took on additional fuel and victualling supplies before leaving for a position off the Indonesian island of Timor.
The security officer and the ship's Naval Commander were unhappy with the additional âcrew' which had boarded just an hour before departure from Garden Island. As it was, anchoring the civilian registered launch in the RAN's station had been difficult enough without the additional complication of having civilians passing through the restricted area.
On board was a team of specialist technicians trained in communications, deciphering, and their own collection of encryption devices.
The security officer in charge of the modifications hastily installed prior to their departure was first to discover that these recent and late arrivals were journalists. To his further dismay, the Captain informed his officers that the journalists were to be given instruction in the use of the ship-to-shore mobile radios as they would take several sets with them when they disembarked.
The ship's Commander was surprised when the group suddenly decided to discontinue the voyage once they had arrived in Darwin. All six of the men had suffered from seasickness and had requested that arrangements be made for them to fly the last leg of the journey. The Lieutenant Commander sent a priority signal and, several hours later, received confirmation that they were to proceed without the media personnel, and re-establish contact once the vessel had taken up position in the target zone.
The crew were relieved to have them out of their hair.
Â
The South Australian-based aerial taxi company had positioned both of its Cessna 310s in Darwin. That's how the contract read. They had requested urgent clearance for their flight into Kupang and, having waited three frustrating days, the charterers had become impatient as news of the military build up had spread quickly. As the flight path entered Indonesian territory, a âdiplomatic clearance' was required under the Geneva Convention and, although not strictly adhered to, it was always prudent to be able to produce some form of written authority when landing in the host country.
At 0630 hours on the fourth day the first of the two flights departed, followed at 0730 by the second Cessna. Neither aircraft had approval to enter Indonesian airspace nor did they have any authority to land on Indonesian soil. Both applications had been deliberately held, pending a final decision, on General Nathan Seda's desk, at BAKIN headquarters.
On board the first flight several of the group went about checking their gear. Cameras and bags of film were packed safely in the event of turbulence as the aircraft droned on towards the island of Timor. An hour behind, the second aircraft was making up lost time, having been delayed by one of the reporters who had insisted on making one final call back home, to his estranged wife Shelley, to see if she had returned the divorce papers he had sent her.
They were all young. And excited. The assignment was going to be a dream. The brief had been simple. Get amongst the action, they had been told by their boss, photograph whatever they could and radio report on an hourly basis everything that they observed on the frequencies provided. Their instructions had been emphatic. Radio report every hour. Everything!
Some time almost a week after leaving the launch which had taken them from Sydney to Darwin they were spotted. The crew of the ship had waved but the passengers were too high to see the friendly signals as they passed overhead.
The ship's Captain observed and noted in his log that the first aircraft had been followed some time later by another similar aircraft. As he watched the second aircraft pass and then fade into the distant light he wondered why they were in such a desperate hurry to reach their destination on the tense and primitive island. Two hours later the six journalists radioed that they had all arrived safely in Timor.
Â
The hot, moist, and debilitating pre-monsoonal conditions continued. The men had not encountered weather this severe even during their training exercises into other unfamiliar areas of the country. It was, as if by command, all cool breezes had been redirected to another world. As temperatures soared early in the tropical heat of the jungle the men had to be more disciplined than before in observing their water rations. Already a number of his own platoon had come down with the dreaded stomach cramps they had been warned about during their arrival briefing.
During their first week in Timor Bambang's regiment suffered from the prevalent diarrhoea more so than the earlier arrivals as they were bivouacked beside a running creek already fouled further upstream. Two of his men were evacuated with cholera symptoms just days after they drank from the small river. Most of the others suffered the debilitating cramps and the all too frequent latrine stops while out on patrol. At the beginning of the second week they had difficulty moving equipment as the first heavy deluges turned the dry fields into quagmires of mud.
The mosquitoes were enormous. Sleep was almost impossible. The men who were not already weakened by the distressing symptoms which cursed the young soldiers became restless with the inaction.
They had come to fight. Instead, they had arrived and done nothing except clean and maintain their equipment and occasionally wander out through the jungle after the Hughes 500 choppers dropped them in relatively unsafe landing areas. The helicopters had been appropriated from the Pertamina fleet which had, in turn, left angry drilling crews stranded on their rigs for days beyond what their contracts demanded of them.
Bambang's platoon, or what was left and still capable of participating in the patrol, had been dropped two days before, but not by choppers. They had jumped from the rear of a Hercules transport as their target was considerably further away from their base camp than their earlier patrols had been. They could see the mountains up frighteningly close as the huge aircraft banked then settled down for the final run. The few veterans amongst them realized solemnly that the real test of their training would come when they plunged into the surrounding jungle below, into the foothills of Tata Maila mountain.
The Captain who led them had instructions to set up a forward reconnaissance camp to assist future incursions penetrate further into the enemy's territory. There had been fifteen such camps established on the same day. All across the border. Having secured the area and established radio contact with their base camp, they then waited for further instructions. And they continued to wait. Time passed very slowly for the young soldiers.
They had been in place for weeks and the men were already disillusioned with the conditions. Jungle rash had broken out, covering their bodies, festering under their arms and between their legs, spreading over their genitals, as they scratched continuously, further exacerbating the painful itch. They ate from their cold ration packs. There were no fires permitted. They knew that this wasn't just an exercise. This was for real!
Bambang had recovered from his most recent attack of stomach cramps and now lay around listlessly with the other men in their patrol and, although he didn't feel much up to it, he did attempt to set an example for the enlisted soldiers. He didn't complain but he really hated doing just nothing. Waiting. Just waiting.
The Indonesian Command had decided to initiate two separate missions approximately six hours apart. The general purpose of these incursions was to create the impression that the raids were the responsibility of the pro-Indonesian East Timorese soldiers and, accordingly, the crack paratroopers were obliged to change their camouflaged battledress for less conspicuous military apparel.
A Company of almost one hundred of the well trained soldiers crossed the border as night fell and positioned themselves for the planned assault. They waited until the target area appeared to be secure for the night before proceeding through the densely wooded hill, avoiding the main track, just before 2300 hours. The shelling by their ships was supposed to have prepared the area for their attack and they could hear that the loud thudding bombardment had ceased some hours before.
Their Captain issued the command and the raiders entered the peaceful compound on the run, shooting at the small huts and everything else in sight. To their surprise they were confronted by a well-equipped force of regular troops who succeeded, much to the chagrin of the Indonesian Commander, in preventing the invaders from advancing any further. There was no evidence of the two days of bombardment reportedly delivered by their navy nor was there any sign of the
Apodeti
support groups who were supposed to have provided the local back up if needed.
The officer radioed his position and reported the resistance they'd encountered. He couldn't be sure if the enemy was FRETILIN or not, although judging by the professional tactics he'd seen, it was unlikely that they were entirely responsible for the surprise outcome of the engagement. The Commander was instructed to withdraw leaving none of the wounded behind. Each time he called for his men to pull out and regroup they suffered more casualties as the enemy pursued the poorly trained Indonesian soldiers.