Stone the Devil

By Peter Sinclair Ellis

Stone the Devil is the story of a nuclear bomb that was manufactured as a result of religious conviction and its journey from the Afrikaner Right Wing into the hands of the Islamic state.

It is a story of political intrigue and deceit, of corruption and greed, and of cruelty often inflicted in the name of God.

It is a story of the machinations of the secretive Afrikaner Broederbond in former apartheid South Africa, of the savagery and cruelty of Boko Haram, and of the beheadings and single-minded application of Sharia Law by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant and the newly declared Caliphate.

It is a story of the significance of the number 7to some!

The reader is taken on a roller-coaster ride from the battle fields of South West Africa (Namibia) and Angola, through suburban crime in the streets of Pretoria and Birmingham, the bombing of the US Embassy in Nairobi, the killing fields of the DRC and Rwanda, and to the climax in Borno Province, Nigeria.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Dec 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781482804959

Peter Sinclair Ellis

The author grew up and was educated in Rhodesia, serving as an officer during the Bush War that lead to the Independence of Zimbabwe. The author is an experienced, widely travelled businessman, entrepreneur, and wine producer who has now retired to Portugal to write.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014, 2015 by Peter Sinclair Ellis.

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4828-0496-6

                Softcover        978-1-4828-0494-2

                eBook             978-1-4828-0495-9

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All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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Contents

In memory

Acknowledgements

Prologue

PART ONE: 1983 to 1994

Chapter One SAAF Headquarters Pretoria. May 1983.

Chapter Two Pretoria. February 1988

Chapter Three South West Africa (Namibia). June 1988.

Chapter Four Lyttelton-Pretoria. June 1988

Chapter Five South West Africa-Angola. 1988

Chapter Six Waterkloof, Pretoria 1989

Chapter Seven Birmingham 1989.

Chapter Eight Waterkloof, 1993

Chapter Nine Waterkloof, June 1994

Chapter Ten Nairobi Kenya 1998

PART TWO: 2014

Chapter Eleven Waterkloof, March 2014

Chapter Twelve Istanbul, 17 April 2014

Chapter Thirteen Istanbul, 18 April 2014.

Chapter Fourteen Dubai, June 2014

Chapter Fifteen Monument Park, June 2014

Chapter Sixteen Monument Park, June 2014

Chapter Seventeen Sandton, June 2014

Chapter Eighteen Ar-Raqqah, Syria, July 2014

Chapter Nineteen Pretoria, July 2014

Chapter Twenty Kinshasa, July 2014

PART THREE: SEVEN DAYS IN AUGUST 2014

Chapter Twenty-One Kinshasa, 1–2 August 2014

Chapter Twenty-Two Goma, 2–3 August 2014

Chapter Twenty-Three Goma, 4 August 2014

Chapter Twenty-Four Lake Kivu, 4 August 2014

Chapter Twenty-Five Goma, 4 August 2014.

Chapter Twenty-Six Kigali, Rwanda, 5 August 2014

Chapter Twenty-Seven Goma, 5 August 2014.

Chapter Twenty-Eight Gwoza, Borno Province, Nigeria, 5 August 2014

Chapter Twenty-Nine Kigali, 6 August 2014.

Chapter Thirty Ar-Raqqah, Syria, 6 August 2014

Chapter Thirty-One White House, Washington, 6 August 2014

Chapter Thirty-Two Goma-Maiduguri, Nigeria, 6–7 August 2014

Chapter Thirty-Three Maiduguri, 04.50, 7 August 2014.

Chapter Thirty-Four Maiduguri International, 06.00. 7 August 2014.

Chapter Thirty-Five Maiduguri International, 06.29, 7 August 2014

Epilogue

Glossary

In memory

D uring 2014, the names James Foley, Steven Sotloff, David Haines, Peter Kassig and Alan Henning became inextricably woven into the history of ISIS, ISIL, and the Islamic State. We should never forget them or the many other victims (whose names are unknown to us) who have given their lives or suffered at the hands of religious fanatics who claim to act in the name of their God.

Acknowledgements

W ith thanks to those members of the SAAF who shared their experiences and stories. To my own instructors and comrades in arms. Roy, Charles, Jason, and Mary who provided support, criticism, and encouragement. Grant, for his help with computers, and Eleanore, who provided the catalyst. A special thanks to Captain Alasdair Mc Robbie and, last but not least, to long-suffering Jill, who endured the rewrites and the pain of pulling everything into some semblance of order.

H ow dreadful are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects are apparent in many countries’ improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live. A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement, the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property—either as a child, a wife, or a concubine—must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men. Individual Muslims may show splendid qualities, but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it. No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science, the science against which it had vainly struggled, the civilization of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilization of ancient Rome.

(Sir Winston Churchill, The River War)

T he first and foremost of such conclusions is surely the one on the incompatibility of Islam and non-Islamic systems. There can be no peace or co-existence between the Islamic faith and non-Islamic societies and political institutions…. Islam clearly excludes the right and possibility of activity of any strange ideology on its own turf. Therefore there is no question of any laicistic principles and the state should be an expression and should support the moral concepts of the religion.

(The Islamic Declaration

(Islamska deklaracija) written by the

Bosnian Muslim leader Mr Alija Izetbegovic)

Africa%20Map%20B%26W_edited.jpg

Prologue

O n the 24 March 1993, F. W. de Klerk, the last white president of the Republic of South Africa, revealed to Parliament and the world that his country had manufactured six nuclear weapons and that the programme to develop nuclear weaponry had been carried out in total secrecy over the preceding sixteen years. He went on to announce that South Africa had dismantled those weapons (at the time, the only nation on earth to have voluntarily done so) and was to sign the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT).

Subsequent inspection by the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) failed to reveal any hidden agenda or nuclear material unaccounted for.

However, earlier suspicion that South Africa was developing nuclear weapons had boiled to the surface during 1977 when US and Soviet Intelligence confirmed the existence of a test site in the Kalahari desert, prompting the French foreign minister to warn of ‘grave consequences’ (if a nuclear test went ahead) for French-South African relations. The French minister’s warning was widely believed to refer to the cancellation of the contract for the supply of equipment and generators for South Africa’s only nuclear power plant at Koeberg in the Western Cape. The French threat, along with increased pressure from the US and Russia, resulted in the cancellation of a proposed test firing and closure of the test site. This episode received a great deal of international publicity, and in an article carried by the Washington Post on 28 August, a US official was quoted as saying, ‘I’d say we were 99 percent certain that the construction [the Kalahari test site] was preparation for an atomic test.’

Suspicion was further heightened in September 1979 when a US Vela satellite detected a double flash over the Indian Ocean in the vicinity of the Prince Edward Islands, a South African possession, and the Crozet islands, which belong to France. This double flash of light was considered characteristic of a small atmospheric nuclear explosion in the two to three kiloton range. The US immediately conducted several surveillance flights in the area but failed to confirm the presence of any nuclear radiation. Theories had also been propounded to suggest that Israel and South Africa were collaborating in a nuclear weapons programme and the convicted Soviet spy, Dieter Gerhardt, was later reported as having said that SA provided Israel with enriched uranium in exchange for missile technology. He apparently also suggested that Israel would provide eight Jericho missiles for the delivery of SA nuclear warheads and that the double flash or Vela Incident was a joint Israeli-South African test, code-named Operation Phoenix. Not surprisingly, both countries denied these accusations.

F. W. de Klerk’s 1993 announcement only served to raise the level of concern within the African National Congress, soon to be the government in a new South Africa under President Nelson Mandela. In 1997, Aziz Pahad, the South African deputy foreign minister, stated that South Africa had indeed carried out a test that was responsible for the Indian Ocean double flash. Although Pahad subsequently retracted this statement, many remained convinced, given the secrecy surrounding the whole nuclear weapons development programme, that de Klerk’s speech only revealed the tip of the iceberg. Rumours circulated and fears existed that there could well be material and possibly even weapons that had eluded the inspectors. These suspicions lingered for many years, and there are some who entertain them even to this day.

President’s de Klerk’s announcement in Parliament revealed to the world that South Africa had the will, the technical expertise, and the capability to embark on a sophisticated programme, such as uranium enrichment and the development of nuclear weapons, not only in utmost secrecy but also at a time when the whole world had turned against them and full international trade sanctions had been in force for almost twenty years.

At the same time there were elements within the country opposed to the political reformation about to overtake them, and the white right wing made no secret of its view of de Klerk as a traitor and the inevitability of civil war. Acts of unrest, violence, and anarchy were the talk in many households, and it was a time of great uncertainty for many of the country’s white population, especially the Afrikaner volk.

PART ONE

1983 to 1994

The Afrikaner Broederbond was born out of a deep conviction that the Afrikaner Volk has been planted in this country by the hand of God, destined to survive as a separate Volk with its own calling!

—Professor J. C. van Rooy, 1944

Chapter One

SAAF Headquarters Pretoria. May 1983.

T he traffic light turned to red. Freddie glanced anxiously in the rear view mirror and was horrified to see a Police van come to a stop behind him. He also noticed the military vehicle parked on the opposite side of the road. He wondered ‘ if it were possible that the security police were onto them?’ They were running late and Freddie was feeling the mounting pressure. Sweat prickled in his armpits and he was experiencing a rising temptation to abandon the mission and run. He might well have done so but for Ezekial sitting in the passenger seat beside him. His fellow MK cadre had left the Kombi that was to be their ‘getaway’ vehicle at a nearby parking garage. Freddie looked at Ezekial questioningly. His companion, guessing Freddie’s doubts, simply shrugged and said, Aboo told us we must not fail the cause, we carry on!

A second quick look in the mirror provided Freddie a little relief as the Boer police did not appear interested in the stolen vehicle, its occupants or their activities. The light changed to green and Freddie Shongwe thought, it would not do to stall the vehicle now! He made sure his indicator was flickering then concentrated on a smooth pull away into the busy intersection. It was almost half past four in the afternoon when the two ANC operatives drove their cream Colt Gallant and almost 50 kilograms of high explosives into Church Street.

A short distance to the East, commuters were making their way onto buses parked in Church Square. The imposing statue of Paul Kruger, President of the South African republic at the time of the second Boer war, stood at the centre of the square. ‘Oom Paul’, as he was affectionately known to the Afrikaner Volk, had been at the forefront of Boer resistance during both wars against the British. The statues of four Boer commandoes, placed on the sides and at the bottom of the plinth completed the structure from which the bearded figure, dressed in Top hat and frock coat, gazed down onto the square’s lawns and walkways. Church square was surrounded by imposing and architecturally significant buildings dating from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. One of these buildings was the uniquely turreted Palace of Justice in which Nelson Mandela and ten other senior members of the ANC had been prosecuted during 1963 and 1964. At the end of the ‘Rivonia trial’ as it became known, Mandela, the leader of the ANC and a future President of South Africa, had been sentenced to life imprisonment.

The late afternoon sun lacked any warmth and although the weather had been pleasantly mild at mid-day the mercury was now dropping rapidly. Small grey clouds scudding across the sky and a cold wind heralded the approach of mid-winter. Days were already shorter and the cold early nights when temperatures plunged sixteen and more degrees, often reaching zero and below, were not far off.

Church Street was a major route of ingress and egress for the country’s capital city and traffic flow was beginning to build as the clock steadily approached rush hour. Some buildings were already disgorging staff onto the pavements. Parking spaces were filled as quickly as they emptied as cars arrived to collect family members and loved ones. The street would be busy for thirty to forty minutes as the office buildings emptied and their day time occupants returned to their apartments or suburban homes. All in all, it was a typical winter’s evening.

Joyce Wilkins was parked in front of the bank building on the South side of Church Street. She was sitting, waiting for her daughter to leave work and watching the building’s entrance. She could not help but notice the cream coloured saloon car as it hastily pulled in to park a few spaces from her own vehicle. At that moment her daughter appeared on the pavement, stopping momentarily to chat and laugh with her companion, a pretty young blonde girl. Recognising her mother’s parked car, the youngest member of the Wilkins family said goodbye to her new friend and climbed into the waiting passenger seat.

Who was that? Joyce asked her daughter as she watched the young blonde woman walk towards two other women standing at the bus stop.

Anneline Grobelaar, she’s new at the bank. She seems like a nice girl. Her father is some big shot in the army!

Anneline Grobelaar was feeling excited and happy with her life. She had recently celebrated her eighteenth birthday and had just started her first job where she had made new friends. She was about to hitch a ride home with her father who was attending a meeting in the Air force offices. She would normally use the bus along with many of the other office workers but tonight she would be at home earlier than usual. Anneline was looking forward to a long hot bath in preparation for her date with a new admirer, later that evening. She was preoccupied with what was she going to wear when she suddenly felt a gust of cold wind. She shuddered and wrapped the jacket tightly about herself. It was going to be a cold night she thought and that would make a difference to what she chose to wear. A carelessly discarded sweet wrapper, given life by the wind, danced its way across the pavement in front of her as she made her way to the entrance of South African air force headquarters.

Several floors above street level, Brigadier General Piet Grobelaar sat across the table from his air force counterpart. The two men knew each other well and their discussion over the past hour had included personal and social updates along with detail of the military situation in South West Africa where Grobelaar had commanded the South African forces.

"We estimate that the fourteen groups of SWAPO’s Volcano force comprised approximately 1200 of which Operation Phoenix accounted for at least seventy percent, killed, wounded and captured. Intelligence gathered from the interrogation of prisoners indicates extensive training by East German, Cuban and Russian instructors. Cuban battalions are based at Cahama and Cuvelai along with FAPLA brigades and SWAPO. General Grobelaar sipped at a fresh cup of coffee, his sixth for the day, before continuing. As a result we need to plan a new joint forces operation for this coming November. We are going to need a lot of air support……." The explosion ended their conversation, shattering windows and filling the air with lethal glass shards. Both men were knocked to the floor, bleeding and momentarily dazed.

Downstairs, Joyce Wilkins had started her car’s engine and was about to engage gear when the bomb detonated. The explosion tore apart the cream coloured car parked ahead of her. Badly damaged and destroyed vehicles were burning furiously. Fire, death and devastation was apparent all around the entrance to the bank and air force building. The pavement was littered with debris, body parts, mutilated dead and badly injured people. Some survivors were running away bleeding and confused. People from neighbouring buildings, unconcerned for their own safety, quickly arrived on the scene to help the wounded. Shop fronts and office windows were non-existent in a large area around the blast, glass, masonry and mangled shop fittings were strewn everywhere. Nineteen people lay dead or dying.

Anneline Grobelaar was among the injured, her right leg and right arm mangled beyond recognition, her face and torso punctured by shrapnel and glass. She was to be one of the so called ‘lucky ones’ along with over two hundred others who suffered injuries from the terrifying blast. She was alive but was to lose both limbs and the sight in one eye. Her life would never be the same and she would endure many years of plastic surgery in an effort to improve her disfigurement. The physical and mental scars were to remain with her and many other victims for the rest of their lives.

Police were quick to cordon off the scene. Bomb disposal units commenced a thorough search for additional explosive devices while the fire brigade doused the flames and emergency services attended to the wounded. Sirens, blue and red flashing lights, stretchers, emergency personnel and the ambulances rushing to and from the scene all added to the drama and trauma of the moment. The scene of carnage that greeted General Piet Grobelaar when he exited the building was straight out of Dante’s Inferno. The ghastly injuries to his beautiful daughter, the apple of her father’s eye, were to further harden Piet Grobelaar’s heart against the perpetrators, communists and the African National Congress in particular.

It did not take long for Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK), the armed wing of the ANC who carried out the deadly rush hour attack on the SAAF headquarters, to claim responsibility for this action against the pariah state. The two MK operatives who were killed when the bomb detonated prematurely were duly declared heroes of the struggle. Some years later, the master mind, Aboobaker Ismail, was to be pardoned by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission for his role in the bomb attack that mostly claimed the lives of civilians.

Chapter Two

Pretoria. February 1988

J an Lombard, the man who was the head of South Africa’s top secret nuclear weapons programme, said in answer to a question, ‘I will be ready to deliver in three months!’

‘Can we wait that long?’ asked Andre Minaar

General Piet Grobelaar replied, ‘The Cubans have poured thousands of fresh troops into Angola, and the Russians have recently supplied new missile systems and equipment. Our forces, along with Savimbi’s UNITA, have inflicted heavy casualties on both the Cubans and Angolans. We have some of the best fighting men in the world, more than a match for SWAPO terrorists and the Angolans. The trouble is, our enemies have a never- ending supply of cannon fodder! Our artillery and air force have completely outgunned the enemy until now, but we are in danger of losing air superiority. If that happens, we will be in deep trouble! Our aging aircraft are no match for the MiG-23s, even though we have the better pilots. We can’t afford to lose a single plane and nor can we match the weapon supply if Russia opens the floodgate. We need to use that bomb!’

Both men listened to and respected the views of the distinguished serving major general.

‘Piet, your grandfather and mine were founding members of the Broederbond. They were committed to the survival and future of the Afrikaner Volk. Your father too, Jan! He was a respected member of the bond. We have to stop the communists and the savages who would take this land from us!’ Anxiety and infection left Andre Minaar short of breath.

It was an extremely hot summer day and the three men had been out on the water for over two hours. It had become humid and unbearable under the canvas awning in the motionless boat. Minaar stood up and saw that the vessel was drifting towards a dense bank of water hyacinth. He told his friends to reel in their lines and went to the wheel.

The outboard motor started easily, purring to life with just a hint of blue-grey vapour. Andre eased the craft out into deeper water, away from the shoreline and the floating island of green weed. He cut the motor and two lines were quickly cast as the boat slowed. To anyone who might have taken an interest, they would appear to be three serious fishermen trying their luck, not three conspirators discussing the use of a weapon of mass destruction!

Minaar, who lived on the shores of the Hartebeespoort dam, had chosen this quiet stretch of water for their meeting. The spot was tucked back and away from any mid-week skiers and joyriders for whom the dam was a popular playground. The flow of the Crocodile and Magalies rivers had been interrupted to create this calm stretch of water among the picturesque hills of the Magaliesburg range. The concrete dam wall caused the rising waters to flood into valleys older than the Cradle of Humankind, whose caves had been discovered in the nearby hills. The older man had recovered his breath; he turned towards the general and picked up where he had left off.

‘The Broederbond promoted our cause and made it possible for us to take control of our destiny. The bond gave our people strength and broke the chokehold that the English and the Jews had on our land. We have reclaimed economic power and elected every state president since that traitor Jan Smuts.’

‘Ja, Andre, that is true, but look at our fellow Broederbonders today, many of them have gone soft. De Klerk and his bunch are intent on releasing Mandela and giving away our birthright. There will be anarchy and chaos when they unban the ANC and release the political prisoners. We need that bomb, and we need to use it before it is too late. It is the only way that we will unite our Volk again and save the nation!’

‘I will have the weapon ready in time, but how are we going to get it

Reviews for Stone the Devil

[graant · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

What an action packed thriller that took me on quite a wild ride from the very first moment I started reading! Peter Sinclair Ellis is an absolutely brilliant author. This is not just your typical dark government war story.