A Green Beret's True Story of His Jack Lawson with Sully de Fontaine
A Green Beret's True Story of His Jack Lawson with Sully de Fontaine A Green Beret's True Story of His Jack Lawson with Sully de Fontaine
6 Tmbwfs’’’’’’’’’ (t!Xiffm My statement had created a frozen silence from the rest of those at the table. It was an unnerving stillness. The silence was as empty and pure as the white tablecloth in front of us. All at the table sat motionless, staring at Sully with curiosity, wondering if he’d answer my question and simultaneously wondering what this was all about. Watching how this man would react to my unintentional verbal ambush as he prepared to eat his meal with the manner of his European upbringing and that of an officer and gentleman. My friend, the late author Robin Moore of Special Forces fame, was sitting to my left and I could feel his eyes penetrate me. Even Robin, known for his boldness, was uncomfortable with what I’d just said, but I’d heard the rumor. I’d met this man for the first time only a few minutes earlier, but Sully had such an inviting air about him that seemed to beckon, “Talk to me. Ask me what you want.” Maybe I felt I had common ground with Sully because of my experiences in Africa. That would make this a conversation of one soldier to another. Whatever the reason for my impulsiveness, I had blurted out the words and they couldn’t be retracted. Regardless, I kicked myself for speaking out so suddenly and tactlessly. “Sully here led the Special Forces Team in the Congo in 1960 right after independence and Patrice Lumumba becoming prime minister.” That’s what Robin Moore said to the others, finally breaking the frozen silence at the table in an attempt to bridge the obvious gap between my question and somewhat establish Sully’s identity to the uninformed at our table. I knew little about Sully other than what Robin had briefly told me. The limp was from a leg severely broken on a parachute jump that caused him to live for years with one leg slightly shorter than the other. It was not properly set and Sully wouldn’t reveal where it had happened, leaving me to imagine some clandestine operation he’d rather not discuss. Sully was a former British Special Operations Executive operative who transferred to the Office of Strategic Services and was one of a
Unjust Rumor group of wildcat U.S. Army officers who helped pioneer the Special Forces in the 1950s. This was the new military unit intended for unconventional warfare for the future unconventional world. It would be immortalized through Robin’s book about Vietnam made into the movie, The Green Berets, starring John Wayne. I learned much more about Sully, but the more I learned the more questions came to mind. He was like some sophisticated Chinese puzzle, the more parts you moved on it, the more complicated it became. Long ago, I had read accounts of the American involvement in the Congo in the 1960s. It was the time and place of legends and excitement. It was the birthplace of the Congo mercenary and the famous five, six and ten commandos led by Englishman “Mad” Mike Hoare, Frenchman Bob Denard and Belgian Congo plantation owner Jean “Blackjack” Schramme. It was a place akin to the American Wild West era, only this was Africa and in its anarchy and lawlessness reputations and fortunes were made by anyone with the courage, nerve and enough guns to back them up. Most of these men were fighting against communist imperialism and saving whites from rape and murder at the hands of the Congolese. The mercenaries would be in or out of favor with governments involved as the flip-flopping jumble of alliances and interests changed over the next five years much like the rapidly changing Congo weather. Most mercenaries were considered heroes to Westerners. But their defiance of what they thought was wrong and their alleged unruliness caused the world powers and particularly the United Nations to outlaw the use of mercenaries forever. It was the time of transformation of these colonies to emerging independent nations governed by the majority. For the most part, the majority consisted of uneducated black Africans who were born into tribes that ruled the people of their areas by dictatorial decree. Consequently, they had absolutely no concept of just and democratic elections and rule of the people by a constitution and laws with the checks and balances of elected representatives and a judiciary. 7
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6<br />
Tmbwfs’’’’’’’’’ (t!Xiffm<br />
My statement had created a frozen silence from the rest <strong>of</strong> those<br />
at the table. It was an unnerving stillness. The silence was as empty<br />
and pure as the white tablecloth in front <strong>of</strong> us. All at the table sat<br />
motionless, staring at <strong>Sully</strong> <strong>with</strong> curiosity, won<strong>de</strong>ring if he’d answer<br />
my question and simultaneously won<strong>de</strong>ring what this was all about.<br />
Watching how this man would react to my unintentional verbal<br />
ambush as he prepared to eat his meal <strong>with</strong> the manner <strong>of</strong> his European<br />
upbringing and that <strong>of</strong> an <strong>of</strong>ficer and gentleman.<br />
My friend, the late author Robin Moore <strong>of</strong> Special Forces fame,<br />
was sitting to my left and I could feel his eyes penetrate me. Even<br />
Robin, known for his boldness, was uncomfortable <strong>with</strong> what I’d<br />
just said, but I’d heard the rumor. I’d met this man for the first time<br />
only a few minutes earlier, but <strong>Sully</strong> had such an inviting air about<br />
him that seemed to beckon, “Talk to me. Ask me what you want.”<br />
Maybe I felt I had common ground <strong>with</strong> <strong>Sully</strong> because <strong>of</strong> my experiences<br />
in Africa. That would make this a conversation <strong>of</strong> one<br />
soldier to another. Whatever the reason for my impulsiveness, I had<br />
blurted out the words and they couldn’t be retracted. Regardless, I<br />
kicked myself for speaking out so sud<strong>de</strong>nly and tactlessly.<br />
“<strong>Sully</strong> here led the Special Forces Team in the Congo in 1960<br />
right after in<strong>de</strong>pen<strong>de</strong>nce and Patrice Lumumba becoming prime<br />
minister.” That’s what Robin Moore said to the others, finally breaking<br />
the frozen silence at the table in an attempt to bridge the obvious<br />
gap between my question and somewhat establish <strong>Sully</strong>’s i<strong>de</strong>ntity<br />
to the uninformed at our table.<br />
I knew little about <strong>Sully</strong> other than what Robin had briefly told<br />
me. The limp was from a leg severely broken on a parachute jump<br />
that caused him to live for years <strong>with</strong> one leg slightly shorter than<br />
the other. It was not properly set and <strong>Sully</strong> wouldn’t reveal where it<br />
had happened, leaving me to imagine some clan<strong>de</strong>stine operation<br />
he’d rather not discuss.<br />
<strong>Sully</strong> was a former British Special Operations Executive operative<br />
who transferred to the Office <strong>of</strong> Strategic Services and was one <strong>of</strong> a
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