when they had to use them in the field. Many
of the recruits were only semi-literate and gazed blankly at the
diagrams of weapons that Shadow showed them. The other detrimental
factor was the constant fear of being caught by the Security Police
who had a sophisticated network of both black and white informers
who were prepared to betray their own people for money.
The failed
attempt to bomb the police station in Durban was a typical example
of how the lack of proper training affected the fight for freedom.
The two men who had carried the bomb to the back of the police
station had no idea of how the timing mechanism worked and even
when they were told repeatedly that the bomb would only explode
thirty minutes after they had planted it, they had defied their
leader’s instructions and hurried away immediately after placing
the device next to the wall, thus arousing the suspicion of the
middle-aged white woman who had reported what she had seen to the
police. The bomb had been defused and another operation had
failed.
When Shadow
reached the tiny shack that he was staying in while in the black
township of Umlazi, about twenty kilometres south of the city
centre of Durban, he found a coded message in his secrete post box.
The message was from his superiors, instructing him to hand over
command of the Durban cell to a suitable cadre and travel to
Johannesburg where his expertise was needed to orchestrate an
attack on more important and politically strategic targets that
would attract the attention of the outside world and also deal a
damaging blow to the State.
Shadow met with
his deputy, gave him what instructions he could, and then packed
his few belongings into his dark blue knapsack. After making sure
that he had not left any evidence of his presence in the shack he
began the long trip to the city centre where he planned to catch
the daily Railways bus to Johannesburg and which departed from the
Durban station at nine every morning. This, he reasoned, was the
quickest and safest way to get to his destination.
At the station
he purchased a ticket for the following morning’s bus using his
meager A.N.C. funds and spent the night in an alley behind a
well-known hotel. The following morning he rose early and waited at
the station next to a young black man wearing a colourful blanket
and sitting with his back against the station wall.
There was quite
a variety of nationalities amongst the passengers waiting to board
the bus and Shadow watched a small family of three Indians
anxiously waiting in the early morning sunlight, their large
leather suitcase carefully guarded by the father. He also saw a
tall, balding white man with a heavy black moustache and his
long-haired wife arrive, each carrying a red suitcase that they
allowed the black supervisor to store in the hold. The couple spoke
with a strange accent that Shadow guessed labelled them as recent
immigrants from Eastern Europe. There were several other blacks and
Indians and Shadow estimated that the bus would be only half full
which would allow him to find a window seat and give him the
privacy that he sought.
***
“Subversive
activity is growing throughout the country,” Major Snyman said,
“and we’re getting more and more leads that have to be followed up.
Most of them are hoaxes and lead to nothing, but they all have to
be treated seriously.”
Captain Tiaan
Botha nodded as he sat on the hard, wooden chair on the opposite
side of his superior’s desk. He was wearing a grey safari suit with
short sleeves and long trousers. The shirt hung from his thin
shoulders as if hanging from a coat hanger. His grey shoes were
scuffed and in need of a coat of polish. His thin face was heavily
lined for a man of thirty five and his light brown hair was
thinning rapidly. His pale blue eyes stared at the man in front of
him expressionlessly and his mouth was no more than a straight
slash above his pointed chin.
“We’ve had
several snippets of information hinting at an
Learning to Kill: Stories