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  Thursday

  Everyone set off early for the Mammy Yoko Hotel, the designated processing point for the evacuation, while I remained in the office to hold the fort with a couple of the local staff. Ruth Glass and her two children and Ann Stephens and her husband and baby would be among those going out on the charter, so we said our hasty farewells.

  While I was waiting to hear whether the plane was on its way from Dakar, where it had to refuel, I received a message that Koroma wanted a meeting at midday. The Nigerians told me that he would be requesting political asylum in Nigeria, the US or the UK. I sought instructions from London should he opt for the UK. I was reluctant to advise that we accept him but if it provided a peaceful way out of the mess, then it might be a price worth paying. I was later told that the Nigerians had indicated that they were prepared to accept him, which was a relief for us.

  The embassy in Senegal telephoned to say that the charter had left Dakar and was on its way. Andrew Gale reported that all was quiet at the airport. Both Nigerian and Sierra Leone troops were there but they were behaving themselves. I advised Colin over the radio to start ferrying the people across to Lungi. There was the inevitable WAWA. One of the helicopters was taken off for a trip to Conakry and another broke down, but nonetheless, the evacuees started arriving at Lungi. After about four hours of continuous shuttling by helicopter everyone was assembled at the airport and they started boarding the chartered plane under Andrew Gale’s supervision.

  Suddenly there was a confrontation between the Nigerian and Sierra Leonean troops. What started it was unclear, but guns were cocked and the two sides were squaring off with one another, with our jumbo and evacuees in the middle. Andrew Gale acted quickly and decisively. He was not a tall man, but displaying all the stature and authority of a British colonel, he literally stepped into the breach and calmed the situation down. The women and children continued boarding the aircraft, the doors closed and the plane took off, heading for Gatwick carrying 395 very relieved passengers.

  Meanwhile, I was at the residence with the AFRC. Koroma had not come but, in addition to Squadron Leader King and Captain Johnny Moore, he had sent a group of senior Sierra Leone officers – Colonels Sesay, Anderson, Boyah, Williams and Conteh. Also, the veteran politician Karefa-Smart had turned up. Mohammed Abubakar had rung to say he could not attend and Ann Wright and Berhanu Dinka were preparing to evacuate, so that left just Lincoln Jopp and me on our side.

  The colonels made a point of explaining that none of them had been involved in the coup. A number of them had, in fact, been arrested and beaten up but they were now trying to bring order to the chaos. They claimed that it was because they had been detained that the looting and devastation had been so widespread. They went over the underlying reasons for the coup and suggested that the events on 25 May had nipped in the bud a far more serious confrontation that was brewing in the country.

  I went over the same ground as I had done with the younger soldiers, referring to the breadth and strength of the international condemnation, the obvious absence of local public support, the concern over the increasing presence of the RUF and the limited time left to achieve a peaceful resolution before the Nigerians deployed. I told them that they were deceiving themselves if they believed that bringing law and order to Freetown and making overtures about respect for democracy would be enough to win over the support of the international community and the public. I used an aphorism I had heard Karefa-Smart make at a public speech, that when one stumbled and fell, one did not look at where one landed but back to where one stumbled. In their case it had been the overthrow by military force of a democratically elected civilian government where they had stumbled; unless this was put right, it was a waste of time trying other measures. I pointed out that the President had the means to address all their grievances, e.g. status of the army, conditions of service, a more representative government, within the old constitution. They did not need this violent change. If they stepped down peacefully, it could be argued that the coup had helped focus on what were the key issues that needed to be addressed.

  The colonels nodded in agreement. At one stage I thought they were going to announce that they would take over from the AFRC as a transition until President Kabbah came back, but the moment did not materialize. We agreed to meet the next day.

  Thanks to Colin, Dai, Andrew and others, the evacuation had gone well. It had been an operation with immense logistical problems set against a tense, dangerous, fast-moving situation. Everyone who had turned up wanting to leave got on the plane. No one had been turned away. The passengers had been patient and good-humoured throughout. To my surprise, Dai produced a wad of US dollars. Apparently, a good number of the evacuees had preferred to pay for their passage in cash, rather than sign the undertakings to repay. This was to prove fortuitous.

  The Americans were planning to evacuate all their nationals the next day by an American warship, the USS Kearsarge, a helicopter carrier that had on board 356 marines. They publicized their intentions, which led to the AFRC announcing that all land, sea and air borders were closed. Our jumbo had been the last plane to leave, along with a Lebanese flight taking the Lebanese women and children to Beirut. This further closure of the borders was something I had wanted to avoid, as it meant that any further evacuations would be set against an even more hostile environment. I had hoped to string the AFRC along until we had got everyone out that we needed to. The announcement by the Americans would lead to an increasing number of people wanting to leave.

  Koroma came on the radio. Quoting from Shakespeare and the Bible, he announced that peace had been achieved thanks to the AFRC, and he declared three days of prayers and fasting. Did he not realize that we had been fasting and praying for peace since Sunday’s coup?

  Friday

  The night had passed very quietly, almost eerily so. After constant shooting every night, it was more difficult to sleep through the deafening silence as you asked yourself why they were saving their ammunition.The situation remained tense. It was still not clear what the Nigerians would do. Increasing numbers of the RUF were now in Freetown and they were making up for having missed the initial looting spree by the soldiers, but in their own gruesome fashion. Outside one supermarket, which they had ransacked, they had left a familiar calling card – a dead body with its arms and legs hacked off and a dismembered penis stuck in the mouth. The RUF were now calling the shots with the AFRC. The bunch of colonels I had met the previous day were now being detained by the RUF at Defence Headquarters. The soldiers had let the RUF genie out of the bottle and now they could not get it back in. After consulting Desmond Luke, who knew the mindset of the RUF as well as anyone, I cancelled the meeting with the AFRC that day. Desmond had felt that the possibility of hostage-taking was real.

  I proposed to London that we should advise all members of the British community who had no good reason to stay to leave, taking advantage of the USS Kearsarge. I also proposed we reduce our own staff to the bare minimum to enable us to function – Colin, Dai, Andrew, Lincoln and me. I invited Emilio Perez-Poros, the European Commission (EC) delegate, to join us on the compound. The EC had a helicopter permanently standing-by in Monrovia. This could prove useful if we needed to move quickly. Similar offers were made to Ann Wright and Conrad Fischer, but they had both received instructions from their capitals to close down their missions completely and leave.

  The whirr of the Kearsarge helicopters could be heard throughout the morning as they lifted people from the Mammy Yoko to the ship. One person they had airlifted was Sam Hinga Norman, who had been hiding on top of the lift shaft of the Mammy Yoko Hotel. He was the only one of Kabbah’s ministers who had tried to resist the AFRC when they had taken over. The AFRC and RUF had been looking for him everywhere to kill him. The Kearsarge completed its day’s evacuation but, as expected, more people had emerged wanting to leave. They were advised to make their way to the Mammy Yoko or Cape Sierra hotels on the other side of the Aberdeen Bridge, which were being guarde
d by a detachment of Nigerian soldiers behind a defensive line. The Americans said that they would bring the Kearsarge back the next day to help lift the remaining expatriates, including more Americans. They were liaising with Roger Crooks, the American manager of the Mammy Yoko, and as the US Embassy was now closed, we offered to assist.

  Saturday

  Andrew and Lincoln were out and about assessing the situation and contacting any members of the British community they could find to advise them to leave, and Colin and Dai were dealing with the endless stream of enquiries. Stretched so thin and being so busy, I had some concern for our own safety as it was not impossible that a group of RUF could have broken into the compound and overrun us in the office before we knew what was going on. I asked Emilio Perez-Poros to position himself in the office at the end of the building overlooking the main gate in order to keep an eye out. In my office at the other end of the building, I suddenly heard a commotion outside. I went running down the corridor, shouting to Emilio, ‘What’s going on?’ There was a crowd of around fifty AFRC supporters at the front gate shouting and jumping up and down. Fortunately, they moved on without attempting to break in as Emilio came running out of the bathroom, still zipping up his pants. Having sat patiently for hours watching the gate, a call of nature meant that he had missed the one moment of excitement.

  The USS Kearsarge sent a message saying she would not be able to come in until the next day but we learned from the Honorary French Consul that there was a French naval ship nearby. I telephoned the French Ambassador in Conakry, who had only recently presented his credentials to President Kabbah in Freetown, and asked if there was any chance of bringing his ship in to lift off the French nationals and any others. He contacted the Quai d’Orsay in Paris and clearance was given for the ship, a corvette called the Jean Moulin, to come and help. She would take a couple of hours to reach Freetown so Colin, Dai, Emilio and the French Consul went off to round up any Europeans and get them to the Aqua Club, where we had agreed to bring in the French ship. I got in touch with Defence Headquarters for agreement for the Jean Moulin to enter Sierra Leone waters to lift off distressed European nationals.

  The Jean Moulin arrived and at the Aqua Club a rubber zodiac dinghy carrying a couple of French matelots and a French officer, all looking very smart in their dark blue shorts and long white socks, came up onto the beach. The officer carried a laptop computer linked to the ship. In just a couple of hours, 261 persons were processed and boarded, including 157 British nationals, plus the French, other Europeans, a few Americans and the Papal Nuncio. The Jean Moulin sailed serenely off to Conakry. It was a very slick operation.

  The Jean Moulin was followed out of the bay by a small fishing boat stacked to the gunnels with mainly Indian nationals. The hard-working and influential Indian Honorary Consul, Ken Azad, had previously organized an air charter for the wives and children of the Indian community at the same time that our charter had left Lungi. They were flown to Abidjan. But now many of the remaining Indian business community wanted to leave. They had been having a very difficult time at the hands of the RUF. The rusting fishing smack tried desperately to keep up with the sleek French corvette, but less than a mile out to sea it was shipping water and started sinking. It turned around and barely made it back to Freetown.

  Sunday

  It was just a week since we had awoken to the sound of gunfire around Freetown. From early morning the Kearsarge helicopters started ferrying a further batch of evacuees to the ship. She left around midday, followed by another boat that had been chartered by the Lebanese to take around 600 of their nationals to Conakry.

  Desmond Luke telephoned to try to arrange ‘one final meeting’ between the AFRC and the international community. I pointed out that apart from the Nigerian High Commissioner and myself, there was no one left to represent the international community. We fixed a meeting at the residence for the afternoon and as Lincoln and I drove up to the residence, many Sierra Leoneans lined the street. They had been monitoring the comings and goings to the residence all week and one could see the look of hope and expectation in their faces that a solution would emerge from these talks and that they could go back to living their normal lives. We shared their hope, if not their expectation.

  Desmond Luke and Mohammed Abubakar, plus the latter’s deputy, Joe Keshi, arrived at the residence. For the previous twenty-four hours they had been trying to hammer out an agreement on paper with the AFRC, which in essence allowed for the dissolution of the AFRC, the reinstatement of President Kabbah, an amnesty for the coupists and the implementation of the Abidjan Peace Accord. They hoped to get a response from the AFRC at the meeting.

  Eventually, Colonels Anderson, Conteh and Boya arrived, together with Karefa-Smart, who this time did not sit alongside the AFRC delegation, but down at the end of the long, highly polished, dining table. Karefa-Smart had attracted a great deal of criticism from the public for having ‘sided’ with the AFRC and he started the meeting by explaining that he was not there as a member of the AFRC delegation, but as a ‘facilitator’.

  It emerged that the colonels had not even discussed the draft agreement with the other AFRC members and the RUF. Instead, Anderson attacked Mohammed Abubakar about the increasing numbers of Nigerian troops that had arrived. I suggested that the way to stop the troops arriving would be to reach an agreement along the lines negotiated. Abubakar, Luke and I urged them to do so. I noted that we had been meeting all week and that this was the ‘final’ meeting I was prepared to convene. I said that after I left the residence, I would go to my office, switch on the radio, and hope to hear an announcement from the Chairman accepting the points of the agreement. Anderson looked at me across the table and, fingering the gun he had strapped across his breast, he said a little menacingly: ‘Then perhaps, High Commissioner, we should not let you leave.’ There was a chilled silence in the room. I broke it by laughing and saying I had to go back to the office because my staff were waiting lunch for me!

  After the colonels had departed, Abubakar told me that the decision to deploy had already been made by Abacha. It was now down to the Nigerian military commander to decide when, not if. Only an announcement from Koroma that evening could stop the operation the next day.

  Back in the office, after we had eaten an excellent Sunday roast lunch prepared by Osman – the first proper meal we had eaten all week – Joe Keshi came round. He had been negotiating some further points with the soldiers. The agreement now covered twenty-one points, including the provision of money, homes and cars for those leading members of the AFRC who would be flown to Nigeria. It seemed that these were as important points of detail as to what would happen to the country. Mercedes Benz was the car of choice.

  Lincoln drove back down to the Cape Sierra Hotel and Joe and I, together with Colin, Dai and Andrew, sat round the radio hoping to hear an announcement. At 9.00 pm Colonel Anderson telephoned to say that they had reached agreement among themselves but they could not find the Chairman to make the broadcast. He asked whether another member of the AFRC could do it but we advised that only the Chairman’s voice would carry the necessary authority, otherwise it would not be believed.

  The radio carried on playing music until around midnight, and then the radio station closed down without any announcement from the Chairman. It later emerged that the RUF had detained Koroma to prevent him from making any broadcast. Our opportunity to nip the troubles in the bud before they got worse had been lost. We tried to snatch some sleep before impending events.

  Monday

  Morning broke to the sound of heavy shelling. Andrew and Dai went outside and from a vantage point on the compound they could see down on the town and beyond to the Aberdeen Bridge and the Mammy Yoko Hotel. Using his army binoculars, Andrew reported that the two Nigerian vessels anchored off in the bay were firing shell bursts in the air. They did not appear to be landing anywhere and seemed to be just warning shots. The BBC reported that Nigerian ships were bombarding Freetown – a slight exaggeration.


  Lincoln, who had made his way to the Mammy Yoko, reported by radio that under the cover of a group of Sierra Leone peace protesters, the AFRC and RUF had mounted four positions with mortars and launched an attack on the Mammy Yoko Hotel. The sixty or so Nigerian troops at the hotel, under the command of Colonel Biu, had returned fire and were holding their ground. As we monitored the situation from our compound the shelling and firing intensified and I was now in constant contact over the telephone with Roger Crooks, the American manager of the hotel, and his British assistant, Steve Lawson. They reported that there were around 800 very frightened civilians crammed into the basement.

  I contacted the USS Kearsarge, out of sight over the horizon, and briefed the ship on the situation. I was asked whether there were American nationals at the hotel. I replied that that was almost certainly the case but now was not the time to be checking passports – everyone at the hotel needed help.

  By now Lincoln was up on the roof with a British expatriate, Will Scully. Will was a former member of the SAS who had been brought out to assist with the security of one of the gold mines up-country. In effect, the two of them took over the defence of the hotel: Lincoln spotted the AFRC/RUF positions and Will took them out. At one stage a Land Rover approached the hotel full of wild RUF carrying RPGs and machine guns. With precision accuracy, Will fired his RPG and scored a direct hit. Colonel Biu, who had been watching the poor performance of his own men, and enthused with Will’s success, told his men, ‘That’s what I want.’ Will replied calmly, ‘That’s what I do.’ Will was later to record these dramatic events in his book Once A Pilgrim.