"War Dogs" fanfic by F. Forsyth
The white man had never seen this soldier, but he knew that there was such a person. Even in the dark, with only the dim light of a few cigarettes, he could identify the person he wanted to see and finally saw.
The driver was not wearing a military cap, so there was no military salute, but a slight nod. He had never nodded like that to a black man before, and he couldn't explain why.
"I'm Captain Van Cleef," he said in English with an Afrikaner accent.
The African nodded in greeting, and as he nodded, a thick black beard brushed the front of his camouflaged military uniform.
"It's dangerous to fly at night like this, Captain Van Cleef," he said dryly. "It's a little late to bring in supplies."
His voice was low and slow, and his tone of voice sounded more like the British public school student he had once been than an African. Van Cleef felt uncomfortable, as he had done so many times when he took off from the coast and flew through the clouds, always asking himself why he was out here.
"I didn't bring supplies, sir. Not anymore."
This broke the precedent again, because he had sworn not to call this person "Sir", nor to any "Kafir" person. But the mercenary he met in a hotel bar in Libreville was right. The African in front of him was unusual.
"What are you here for?" The African general asked softly. "Maybe for the children? The nuns here want to fly some children to a safe area, but the charity plane will not come again tonight."
Van Cleef shook his head, feeling that no one would see him. He felt a little embarrassed, but luckily the darkness concealed his embarrassment. The guards around him tightened their submachine guns and stared at him.
"No, I'm here to give you a ride if you want to leave." There was silence for a while. Cliff could feel the African man staring at him through the darkness. When the person next to him occasionally raised his cigarette, he saw the whites of the other person's eyes when he glanced at him.
"I understand. Did your government order you to come here tonight?"
"No," said Van Cleef, "it was my idea."
There was another long silence. The bearded head, a few feet away from Cliff, nodded toward him, either in understanding or confusion.
"I'm very grateful," the voice said. "This must have been quite the trip. In fact, I have my own vehicle, a Super Constellation transport plane, which I hope will take me out of here and into exile."
Van Cleef felt relieved. But he had no idea what the political impact would be if he flew back to Libreville with an African general.
"I'm waiting for you to get off the ground and fly away," he said, nodding again. He wanted to reach out and shake the other person's hand, but he didn't know whether he should do so. He didn't know that the African general was as embarrassed as he was at this time. So he turned around and walked towards his plane.
After he left, the group of black soldiers remained silent for a while.
"Why would a South African, a white South African do such a thing?" One of the cabinet members asked the general. The leader of the group of soldiers flashed his teeth as he smiled.
"I don't think we can figure it out," he said.
Intention: Love will make me unlike myself
