Moïse Tshombe and his Merry Mercenaries

By Gideon Volschenk

 I recently read in one of your older blogs that as the junior diplomat at the South African Embassy in Madrid, in the early 1960’s, Johan von Gernet had been given the task of interviewing Moïse Tshombe and his sidekick Jerry Puren (one of Tshombe’s mercenaries) about the former’s obsession about returning to Katanga. This reminded me that shortly after my arrival in the mid-60’s, as the most junior member of staff at the Embassy in Madrid, I was given a similar job, as we had again been approached by Messrs Tshombe and Puren. I was not informed that there had been some contact between the two gentlemen and the Embassy before.

I met them for the first time at the Ritz hotel in Madrid and was told during this meeting that they would like South Africa to assist Tshombe to return to Katanga. It was a very amiable meeting and we discussed their request over a few glasses of Johnny Walker Black Label and Coke (Tshombe’s choice, and a drink which I later dubbed - a Tshombe Libre). Of course, I could not give them any replies to their query at that time and could only promise to refer the matter to Pretoria for a decision. Which I did when I got back to the office.

Pretoria was not to too keen on accommodating the said request, but it did eventually authorise us to inform Tshombe that while South Africa was not prepared to assist him to physically return to Katanga, we could provide him with humanitarian aid in the form of medical supplies, after he had re-established himself in Katanga, should he need such aid.  I passed this message on to Messrs Tshombe and Puren at the Ritz - over a Tshombe Libre or two. My message was gladly accepted.

A few weeks later, in June 1967, I again received a call to meet Messrs Tshombe and Puren at the Ritz.  All that they wanted was confirmation of Pretoria’s undertaking to provide medical supplies, should they be required. I could confirm this. Before we parted company for what was to be the last time, Mr Tshombe gave me the Belgian Congo bank-note, pictured above. He did not intimate that he would soon be leaving Madrid to return to Katanga, but with hindsight I interpret the bank-note as being both a goodbye and a keepsake. Mr Tshombe was kidnapped in North Africa on his way South at the end of June.

A few weeks after Moïse Tshombe’s kidnapping, I received a telephone call from Robbie, an American acquaintance of mine in Madrid, who informed me that he had broken both his legs in an accident and asked if I could come and see him. I went, and was told that when he heard about Tshombe’s kidnapping and subsequent incarceration in Algeria, being a retired American air force pilot, he had hatched a plan to get hold of an aircraft, fly it to Algeria and then liberate Tshombe. I did not ask him for any details on how he will would accomplish this seemingly impossible task. 

Robbie explained that he thought that as Tshombe had “liberated” the Katangese treasury when he left the country for the first time, Mrs Tshombe would be prepared to pay a considerable ransom to get her husband freed. But, as it turned out he was wrong. He said that he found out where Mrs Tshombe was living in Madrid and went to her apartment to put his proposition to her. 

As it happened, Tshombe’s brother was also in the apartment at the time, and when Robbie told them what he could do for them, Mrs Tshombe replied in no uncertain terms that her husband had squandered a good proportion of their fortune and that she was consequently not too keen on his being liberated. To emphasise this point of view the brother brandished an automatic pistol and believing that he was about to use it, Robbie jumped out of the window, which happened to be on the second floor! Thus a failed rescue attempt with two broken legs to boot. I do not know whether any more attempts were made to free Tshombe, or whether Robbie's  story was true.

I might at this stage mention, as an aside, that at more or less the same time as the above was happening, Abbé Fulbert Youlu, the former President of the Congo Brazzaville, who was living in exile in Madrid, also tried to make contact with someone at the Embassy. But he was a lot more controversial than Tshombe and I had to tell him that his approach would not solicit any interest in South Africa. 

Tshombe’s kidnapping was not the last contact that the Embassy would have with his mercenaries. At the time that Tshombe was planning to return to Katanga a number of his mercenaries (including Puren) preceded him to that Province. But when things went awry with his capture in Algeria, there was not much that the mercenaries could do against the Congo government forces and many of them eventually ended up as refugees in Rwanda. They were eventually freed, and sometime during 1968 the Embassy received a communication from Pretoria saying that a small number of these mercenary refugees would approach the Embassy and that when they did, we should put them on the first SAA flight to Jan Smuts. They did report and, as instructed, they were sent back to South Africa.

This might have been the last contact that the Embassy would have with the Tshombe mercenaries, but it was not with me. During November 1981, a group of ex-mercenaries (including Jerry Puren), under the leadership of “Mad Mike” Hoare, calling themselves the “Ye Ancient Order of Froth Blowers” flew to Mahe island in the Seychelles group in a coup attempt against President René. As is well known the coup attempt failed dramatically and Jerry Puren and three others, who were left behind when Hoare hijacked an Air India flight to South Africa, ended up in a Seychellois jail charged with treason - a capital offence. 

During my tenure as Consul-General in Scotland I got to know the eccentric Scottish Solicitor-General, Sir Nicholas Fairbairn QC, MP, quite well and was at the time interested to hear that he would be travelling to the Seychelles in order to defend the mercenaries. Despite a spirited defence by Fairbairn, the mercenaries were found guilty and sentenced to death. However, luck was on their side and after a short while in jail, their death sentences were commuted and they were deported to South Africa. Thus ended another mercenary adventure, with Nicholas Fairbairn being the only unhappy person involved – he was not paid for his court appearances.

I was transferred back home at the beginning of 1985, and later on in that year Fairbairn and his wife visited to South Africa as official guests, which I had arranged while I was still en post in Glasgow. He and his wife had to spend some time in Pretoria, during which time I had arranged for them to come and have some supper at home with Carola and myself.  I went to fetch them where they were staying at the Union Hotel, but when I arrived I found that "Lady Sam", Fairbairn’s wife, was a long way from being ready. Fairbairn invited me to go down with him to the hotel lounge to meet with a group of men who were waiting to speak with him. 

 Zut alhors! Imagine my surprise when I suddenly came face-to-face with a group of Tshombe’s old mercenaries, who had apparently come to speak with Fairbairn about their outstanding Seychelles debt to him.  That was the last time that I saw Jerry Puren, and I do not know whether Fairbairn ever received any payment from the very tough, but now ageing group of froth blowing ex-mercenaries.