AS A PRISONER OF WAR IN THE CONGO

OR HOW A FAULTY CARBURETTOR PROBABLY SAVED OUR LIVES

The ability to identify, avoid and manage risks that arise in conflict zones can sometimes be absolutely crucial to enabling deployed personnel to carry out their duties in the field. One of the most dangerous and psychologically distressing situations that deployed personnel may face is being taken hostage.

Lennart Söreke was a UN soldier serving with the 12th Congo Battalion in 1961 when he and a fellow soldier were captured by Congolese troops. Fortunately, the incident ended happily, largely thanks to their remarkable composure.

The lessons learned from Lennart's experience and those of his fellow soldiers have helped ensure that personnel deployed today are better prepared for similar situations than Lennart and his colleague were at the time. Today, this knowledge is incorporated into pre-deployment training for international missions.

Below, you can read Lennart's account.

When I served as a UN soldier with the 12th Congo Battalion in 1961, we were in what was known as a "grey-zone situation". In other words, there was no fighting, but tensions were high. Operation Rumpunch had ended. We were permitted to leave the camp provided there were at least two of us and we were armed.

My position in the battalion was commander of the signals platoon, and I held the rank of rustmästare (a Swedish senior non-commissioned officer rank). I was accompanied by my deputy, Ove Rudström, who held the rank of furir (a Swedish non-commissioned officer rank). It was Saturday, and we were planning to go swimming at the Lido, a recreational area on the outskirts of the city that included a large swimming pool.

We intended to use the signals platoon's service vehicle, a Willys jeep. Unfortunately, it turned out that there was something wrong with it. We only discovered the problem on Saturday, when the workshop was closed. The fault limited our speed to around 40–50 kilometres per hour. Whenever we tried to drive faster, the engine lost all power. As we later discovered, this was caused by a damaged diaphragm in the carburettor, which resulted in an incorrect fuel-air mixture when the throttle was opened further. Nevertheless, we decided to use the jeep, as we had no other vehicle available.

When we arrived at the Lido, unfortunately, the facility was closed. We immediately turned around and began the journey back to camp.

After driving a short distance, we became aware of shouting and yelling behind us. The noise was coming from a Bedford lorry that had pulled up behind us, with approximately 15–20 ANC soldiers (ANC = Armée Nationale Congolaise) standing in the back, wildly waving their rifles in the air. Instinctively, Ove tried to outrun them, but the engine almost stalled.

Looking back, this was probably what saved our lives. Had we been able to accelerate, we would almost certainly have been fired upon by the seemingly trigger-happy soldiers in the back of the lorry. The idea of opening fire with our m/45B submachine guns to shoot our way out was unthinkable. The soldiers in the lorry signalled for us to stop, and shortly afterwards we were surrounded. We were disarmed and then taken to their camp. There, we were locked inside a kind of outbuilding with walls made of unplastered concrete blocks and a corrugated metal roof. The floor was smooth concrete, and the room measured approximately two by three metres. I told Ove that everything would work out.

We began by trying to establish contact with the senior officer in command. My plan was to draw inspiration from the fairy tale of The Three Billy Goats Gruff by telling them that they had captured the wrong men, that our military ranks were far too low. Instead, they should wait until they could capture someone of higher rank. Eventually, we managed to make contact with the commander, although it took some time. The difficulty was that the soldier guarding the door, who opened it whenever we banged on it, did not speak English, making it hard for him to understand what we wanted.

The negotiations with the commander concerning our release went well. We treated each other with respect and spoke as equals. Finally, he said, "You are free to go, and you will have your weapons and vehicle returned to you." The jeep had been brought out and was standing in a large open area. The area around the jeep was crowded with soldiers. As far as I could tell, we were the big event of the day for them — they had captured two UN soldiers. We walked over to the jeep and got in. That was when we discovered that the keys were missing.

I looked out over the crowd of soldiers and saw one of them holding up the keys, swinging them around and grinning mockingly at us. His commander then gave him a sharp order to return the keys. The soldier slowly and dejectedly walked over and handed them back. The soldiers standing in front of the jeep then moved aside, allowing us to drive away and leave the camp. The entire incident was over within two to three hours.

It should be added that personnel from the same battalion who were captured on a later occasion were not as fortunate as we had been.

Recounted in memory of Ove Rudström: A good friend and a highly skilled professional.

Lennart Söreke.