to its post-colonial era. However, while other colonial countries had prepared their respective indigenous populations to ease the transition towards independence, Belgium undertook no such preparations for the Congo. Theirs was the presumption of continuance through utter necessity. Disastrously, they believed that the existing white administrative level would continue to administer. There were few Africans in positions of responsibility in the Congo and its 25,000-strong army was commanded by in excess of 1,000 Belgian officers. On being granted independence, this army became the Armée Nationale Congolaise (ANC). Its layer of white command was removed and with it, it has to be said, control. In addition, some 200 Congolese tribes were just released from Belgian control.
Granted sudden independence, the Congo – with huge mineral wealth but no public administration layer – was unable to impose control on its so-called army to ensure stability and security – its new government’s first duty – and the result was chaos. This disintegration arose directly from two speeches, the first by King Baudouin of Belgium, the second by Patrice Lumumba, the new prime minister of the Congo. In his address to the Congolese, Baudouin encouraged them to be deserving of the advantages granted by his grandfather, Leopold II, a personage hugely disliked throughout Congo. Insulted, Patrice Lumumba set aside his prepared conciliatory speech, instead delivering an impassioned denunciation of the Belgians, which had immediate repercussions. Political opportunists seized the momentum, the army mutinied and many tribesmen sought reprisals for generations of white supremacy.
There were some 10,000 Belgians living in Congo and many white families, previously associated with mining and plantations, became targets for robbery, rape and murder. Lumumba, not anxious to seek the assistance of Belgium, hinted he might contact China for support. He did in fact communicate with the Russians but then, advised by Congo’s US Ambassador, turned instead to the UN. The old colonial power, Belgium, now had a pretext for intervention – the protection of its citizens – and sent in paratroopers who took possession of Élisabethville, the epicentre of the mineral-rich province of Katanga and one with much international interest. The following day, 9 July 1960, Moise Tshombe declared Katanga’s independence. Alarmed by possible Russian involvement at the height of the Cold War, the US exerted pressure on the UN leadership and Security Council Resolution S/4387 was adopted on 14 July 1960. Within a fortnight the Irish were on their way, marching into the madness of tribal strife, anarchy and a web of economically motivated vested self-interests – and even an undertow of Cold War machinations.
Precious metals were at the heart of the madness, some of which were used in the manufacture of jet engines and radar apparatus. Moreover, Katanga supplied a tenth of the world’s copper and over half of the world’s cobalt. There was also uranium and many minerals, including large quantities of diamonds. Thus 10 per cent of Congo’s population generated 50 per cent of the nation’s income and the Katangese wanted to protect their interests, as did those European entities that had much to lose and more to gain. Enter the boots of the Casques bleus – the Blue Helmets of the UN – onto Central African soil and headlong into the Congolese maelstrom. The UN was in at the deep end from the beginning and the pace of events was moving rapidly.
Reality Check
In the thick bush and tall grass either side of the Manono road, on both sides of the damaged 20-foot bridge over the River Luweyeye thirteen miles from Niemba, a large Baluba war party, baptised with ‘magic water’ and hyped up by ritual words, lay in wait for an eleven-man patrol from the 33rd Irish Battalion, sent to the Congo as part of a UN peacekeeping mission and under the command of Lieutenant Kevin Gleeson. The Baluba tribesmen were determined that the Irish would not go beyond the broken bridge and had received explicit instructions from Grand Chief Kasanga-Niemba to that effect. The Baluba war party, led by ex-Congolese Premier Sergeant Lualaba, had ripped most of the large wooden decking planks off the bridge, throwing them into the river below. Now, with a patient determination to kill, they silently waited for the arrival of the Irish peacekeepers.
When the eleven-man Irish patrol arrived at the bridge they left their vehicles to inspect the broken structure and were taken completely by surprise when the group of Baluba tribesmen appeared suddenly out of the dense head-high elephant grass. Carrying bows, with arrows whose tips, it was largely believed, had been dipped in the fatal venom of the black mamba snake, as well as spears, hatchets, knives and clubs, the tribesmen quickly formed into a war party. Six abreast the Balubas strode forward, perhaps forty in all with as many more hidden in the thick undergrowth. Without warning they started screaming and shouting and flung themselves wildly at the hapless Irish patrol. Firing a hail of arrows, they set upon the Irish, yelling raucously and roaring. The overwhelming number and sheer aggression of their opponents shocked the unsuspecting Irishmen who, having gone forward from their vehicles to inspect the bridge had left most of their weapons behind. The rapidly advancing Balubas moved between the Irish and their two vehicles and cut off recourse to their only means of survival – their weapons – which were agonisingly close yet still out of reach. With the few weapons they had the Irish patrol fought for their lives, a desperate defence against being bludgeoned and hacked to death.
Neither Lieutenant Kevin Gleeson nor Sergeant Hugh Gaynor, in Niemba since early October and familiar with Baluba activity, suspected the broken bridge to be a Baluba ambush position. The majority of the other nine on the patrol, newly arrived in Niemba from Kamina the previous day and unfamiliar with the area, did not know what to expect.
The Balubas, a newly established group of highly assertive warriors, was attempting to consolidate its position in the area and had erected numerous roadblocks in an attempt to impede the presence of the Katangan Gendarmerie. They had previously come under attack from pro-Katangan and allied forces and the roadblocks were an attempt to keep their attackers at bay. They therefore resented the UN’s removal of their only defence.
The previous day, a combined contingent of Irish troops under Commandant PD Hogan joined with Lieutenant Gleeson and some of his platoon, a combined strength of forty from all ranks, and travelled north-south to join a concurrently moving south-north patrol under Commandant Barry. Their task was to simultaneously clear all obstacles encountered en route and to rendezvous at noon at Senge Tshimbo. They made a contingency that both patrols, whether or not they successfully linked up, were to begin their respective return journeys at 1300 hours. In the event they did not meet. Commandant Hogan’s and Lieutenant Gleeson’s patrol made slower progress than Commandant Barry’s, encountering and clearing no fewer than eight felled trees and having to bridge or fill in five trenches cut across the route, resulting in them covering only thirteen miles in just under seven hours. This brought them to the bridge over the River Luweyeye, where unknown to them they were not alone. Only a few metres away, hidden amongst the scrub, bush and high grasses, was the expectant Baluba war party.
Lieutenant Kevin Gleeson’s Platoon prior to departure to Congo, July 1960. Kevin Gleeson is in the front row, sixth from left.
Courtesy of the Military Archives, Dublin
Sergeant Lualaba was also taken by surprise. He was looking at a bigger than expected Irish convoy, eight vehicles instead of the normal one or two, and a large a group of Irish peacekeepers. He was put further off-balance when some of his Baluba lookouts were spotted by some of the Irish troops. For their part the Irish were more concerned with estimating how long it would take to repair the damage to the bridge, which they considered to be several hours work, than worried by the presence of a few natives. Nonetheless, the Balubas were questioned and when they claimed to be pygmies out hunting were given the benefit of the doubt. Too late in the day to begin repairs, the patrol returned to Niemba village.
With Commandant Hogan later departing for Albertville, Lieutenant Gleeson was given orders to continue to patrol the Manono road and see if he could take the patrol as far as Kinsukulu. The following morning, 8 November 1960, Lieutenant Gleeson and ten others were to patrol to the Luweyeye and be confronted with far more than a damaged bridge.
