Scattered in the cabin behind him are some seventy men, most old hands of Africa's rough wars. Among them are machine-gunners, riflemen, free-fallers, special forces and paratroopers. A few talk quietly. Some doze; others drink from bottles of cheap brandy. None is in uniform. A natural camaraderie exists among the black veterans. It shows when two men catch each other's glance, and in the easy humour and mock anger over card games. They are close like a well-groomed sports team: men who have trained, killed and risked death together. These are men of 32 Battalion, Angolan rebels who fought for the old South Africa. The Buffalo Soldiers. Told of tonight's mission none hesitated. Bored and hungry, everyone leapt for it. Action is promised, though few know where or why. None grumbles. Three decades of army discipline taught a comfort, the peace of taking orders.

Some white faces dot the group, most veterans of apartheid special forces and other security apparatus that violently prolonged minority rule in South Africa. Most are toughened fighters and skilled officers who know better of tonight's plans. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed and imposing, these are men of Dutch farming stock, to whom a scowl is a natural expression.

The hold of the 727 is packed tight. Blue and black Carry Alls are stuffed with boots, bags, clothing and tools. Then the fifty tons of cargo loaded in Harare, essential for tonight's show. For the officers ten Browning pistols. For the men, standard rifles: AK47s, the Kalashnikov assault weapon found everywhere. Cheap, simple, reliable. A couple of crates of light machine guns. In the heaviest boxes 65,000 rounds of ammunition. Then rocket-propelled grenades, RPGs, with an effective range of 300 metres. And 150 hand grenades. Finally the 60mm mortars. Enough for tonight. New stores will be found in the morning.