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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

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Silence in Inkisi<br />

for their lives, speaking their native Lingala language. The lucky<br />

few, who had escaped through the cordon <strong>of</strong> rebels that had surroun<strong>de</strong>d<br />

the village before attacking, were hiding <strong>de</strong>ep in the surrounding<br />

jungle.<br />

He could do little to comfort the ones he discovered in the buildings<br />

other than to say in French and Lingala, “Don’t be afraid, I am<br />

your friend. People are on their way to help you.”<br />

He knew, though, it would be weeks before or<strong>de</strong>r would be restored.<br />

He hoped his words would provi<strong>de</strong> some sense <strong>of</strong> relief and<br />

lessen the anguish and terror they had suffered. But he knew those<br />

were empty words just the same.<br />

Much <strong>of</strong> the village had been set on fire and the remnants <strong>of</strong> the<br />

structures were still smol<strong>de</strong>ring, set ablaze by the rebels as they left.<br />

Entering mud huts, the church, shops and small stores stripped <strong>of</strong><br />

their goods, the scene was always the same: Dead bodies littered<br />

the grounds and merchandise was strewn everywhere among the<br />

carnage. After searching the entire village for rebels and the whites<br />

he had come for, he knew he was alone <strong>with</strong> only the few Africans<br />

he’d discovered in hiding.<br />

He’d been searching now for almost an hour and moved to the<br />

center <strong>of</strong> the village when he saw it. To the si<strong>de</strong> <strong>of</strong> the main street<br />

was the Portuguese slaver’s oxcart wheel. He walked slowly toward<br />

it. As odd looking and as out <strong>of</strong> place as the wheel was, he remembered<br />

it from a story he had read a few years earlier while teaching<br />

classes on African history and geography to Special Forces troops<br />

at the Unconventional Warfare Center at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.<br />

It was the Slaver’s Wheel.<br />

For a moment <strong>Sully</strong> was in awe <strong>of</strong> the history at which he stared.<br />

The sight <strong>of</strong> the wheel gave him goose bumps and a cold chill<br />

<strong>de</strong>spite the heat in this jungle village. There it stood, the monument<br />

to the victors <strong>of</strong> that battle for freedom generations ago.<br />

The thought sud<strong>de</strong>nly struck him that the village foun<strong>de</strong>rs would<br />

weep again if they could see their <strong>of</strong>fspring now around the Slaver’s<br />

17

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