The Portuguese mercenary

In a post on an Operation Savannah Facebook group on 29 November 2020, one of the group members mentioned about arriving in Cela “today 45 years ago”. He also showed an extract from his diary of that day of “freedom fighters” that were part of the convoy en route to Cela who blew themselves up shortly before arrival in Cela.

I was the commander of the Engineer Corps troop that was part of the reinforcements that arrived on Cela from Grootfontein by convoy on that day. Here is my recollection of the incident with the Portuguese mercenaries (the ”freedom fighters”) that was referred to above.

As our convoy moved into Angola in November 1975, we would come across Portuguese mercenaries in their own vehicles. At times they would travel with us, only to again disappear.

At some stage not too far from Cela, our convoy came to a standstill. My Unimog was towards the tail end of the convoy and the message that reached us after a while was that Portuguese mercenaries were ambushed not too far ahead of our convoy in some mountainous countryside. We had to wait until things were sorted out. (Whatever that might have meant!)

A while later we again started to proceed to Cela. Upon arrival, we watched how a badly wounded Portuguese mercenary was transferred from one of our vehicles to be taken to the field hospital in Cela. He had extensive facial injuries. Word was that he and the others who were in the Jeep with him, weren’t ambushed, but that a hand grenade came loose from someone’s webbing and exploded in the Jeep, causing his injuries.

As things worked out for me, I stepped on a landmine a week later and ended up in 1 Military Hospital in Pretoria, together with many others who were wounded during Op Savannah. We were all treated in Ward 1, quite a big ward with private rooms at its entrance. Those with real serious injuries were treated in these private rooms.

We were extremely aware of what was going on in the private rooms. It was as if our wellbeing in the general ward depended on the wellbeing of the real serious cases in the private rooms.

There was one specific patient in a private room – we didn’t know who he was – who made life unbearable at times for all. He would scream and shout or just constantly groan in a terrible tone. The nurses told us that it was a Portuguese patient who couldn’t speak as result of his facial injuries. He refused treatment in a violent way, even when he was offered food. Nobody knew how to deal with him.

And then, one day, his room became quiet. Not a sound. We knew what this meant – the worst.

But the nurses provided a different, deligtful perspective they learned about our concern.

On that specific morning the Portuguese patient indicated that he wanted a pen and a piece of paper. He wrote in Portuguese that he insisted to be informed where he was. He furthermore demanded that they inform his wife of his whereabouts.

Through an interpreter they figured the message out and informed him that he was in 1 Military Hospital in Pretoria. They also asked him where his wife was so that they could contact her.

It then transpired that he was under the impression that he was in an enemy hospital, and that he was trained that he should make life miserable for the enemy should he fall into their hands if wounded.

His wife was an hour away in Johannesburg and later that morning she joined him at the hospital. The next day he was walking around in our ward with his drip attached to a stand with wheels, and a resemblance of a smile on what was left of his face!

He was happy. And so were the rest of us.

… and yes, it was the Portuguese mercenary whom I’ve seen in Cela!

(Johan du Preez)