Semler seemed to have some reservations about the proposal, but he did not voice any objections. Harris, on the other hand, had no issues. He readily allocated ten AKs and six thousand rounds of ammunition to Deng Shiyang and even lent him an M-Gator utility vehicle for transporting the equipment within the camp.
After lunch, Deng instructed Semler to gather the group of black trainees at the shooting range, while he and Harris drove the M-Gator to the armory to collect the weapons.
The armory was essentially the prefab structure behind the office building, consisting of two orange shipping containers that housed the weapons and ammunition.
Harris pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door, saying as he did, "I’m responsible for keeping the keys to the armory. You need to request access from me and register to collect weapons and ammunition." He paused, adding, "All training weapons must be returned on the same day. That’s company policy."
The armory didn’t have much inventory and looked rather empty. In the far corner were several tall black metal cabinets, while along the wall stood two gun racks holding forty AKs, half of which were Egyptian Maadi rifles with fixed stocks. There were also about a dozen Bulgarian AR-S rifles and five or six Hungarian AMD-65s. Opposite the gun racks were some miscellaneous shelves, with a row of RPD light machine guns on the upper level and six translucent plastic storage boxes filled with magazines on the lower level.
After quickly scanning the gun racks, Deng walked over to the AR-S rifles. He picked out ten, grabbed twenty magazines from the storage boxes, and then carried everything out of the armory, placing them in the bed of the M-Gator.
Harris didn’t help; instead, he stood at the armory door taking notes on a plastic clipboard that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. When the items were loaded, he glanced at the bed of the M-Gator and asked, "Is that all?"
"Yes," Deng nodded.
Harris locked the armory and then used another key to unlock the container next door.
Inside the ammunition storage container were a series of dark green crates, neatly stacked, occupying about one-third of the space. Upon inspection, the rifle ammo turned out to be Yugoslavian M67 rounds, all in military packaging with each crate containing 1,005 rounds. Deng picked up six crates and loaded them onto the M-Gator.
After signing the weapons check-out register, Harris drove him to the shooting range in the southeast corner of the camp.
The so-called shooting range was simply a two-person-high dirt wall created by a bulldozer, with targets set up in front and a white line drawn with quicklime in the distance.
The vehicle stopped beside the firing line, and Deng gestured to the bed of the M-Gator, saying to Semler, "Use these rifles for future shooting exercises. Once they’re used to folding stocks, teach them how to shoot with the stock folded." He paused, then turned to Harris, "Do you have slings? I need some single-point slings."
"No," Harris shook his head, "but I can order some from Gaborone. They can be delivered along with the red dot sights."
"Thanks," Deng said, then announced that the shooting training was officially beginning.
He first had Semler select the ten best shooters for a demonstration. These men all claimed to have shot many times before, and some even boasted combat experience. To make it easier to evaluate, they were each given ten rounds and stood in a line at the firing line.
"Ready," Semler said loudly in Portuguese, then put the whistle in his mouth. The ten men raised their rifles, aiming. Some of them seemed uncomfortable with the cheek weld on the wire stock, and their posture appeared a bit awkward.
With a long whistle blow, the range was filled with the sound of rapid gunfire. "Tat-tat-tat-tat..." Ten AKs simultaneously spat out fire, and the dirt wall behind the targets was quickly engulfed in a cloud of dust.
They emptied their magazines in under two seconds.
Deng frowned, glaring at Semler with an intensity that felt like two scorching beams. Semler looked down in embarrassment, while not far away, Harris had a smirk on his face as if he wanted to laugh but didn’t dare. The ten men on the firing line glanced at each other, puzzled as to what they had done wrong.
Deng rubbed his temples and asked Semler to take the men forward to count the bullet holes on the targets.
As expected, the result was disappointing. Only half of the silhouette targets had one or two bullet holes, while three targets had none. The other two had three bullet holes each, but the shots were scattered widely across the target, as if they were fired randomly.
After patching up the bullet holes, Deng had Semler demonstrate.
"Tat-tat, tat-tat, tat-tat..."
With the same ten rounds, Semler fired in short bursts over three seconds, using five two-shot bursts. Deng then asked everyone to check the targets.
This time, there were ten fresh bullet holes in the chest area of the silhouette target.
With the trainees lined up again, Semler raised an AK and asked them, "Do you see the difference?"
The men all nodded.
Semler raised the rifle to demonstrate, explaining, "You should know that the rifle will recoil upward when you shoot. Like this, *bang, bang, bang*..." He lifted the muzzle, then added, "If you keep holding down the trigger, it will be like this: *bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang*..." He gradually pointed the muzzle skyward and said, "All the rounds will end up in the sky."
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Although Deng and Harris didn’t understand Portuguese, they both smiled.
"Now, I'll teach you a simple way—when you shoot, say 'Dvadtsat dva.'"
"Dvadtsat dva..." came the uneven response from the crowd.
Semler raised his right hand and extended his index finger, demonstrating the trigger pull. "When you say 'Dvadtsat,' pull the trigger, and when you say 'dva,' release it. This way, you’ll only fire two or three rounds each time. Once it becomes a habit, you’ll naturally be able to fire in bursts."
He then had the men extend their fingers and practice mimicking the trigger pull, repeating "Dvadtsat dva" as they bent and straightened their index fingers.
"Once you get used to it, you don’t have to say it out loud—just think it in your head." He reminded them, then allowed them to practice on their own.
With some downtime, Deng walked over, curiously asking, "What does 'Dvadtsat dva' mean?"
"It’s Russian for 'twenty-two,'" Semler replied. "A Russian guy from EO taught me this trick. He said it’s how the Soviet army trained recruits."
"It’s a good method," Harris nodded in approval.
Deng glanced at the trainees. They were mimicking the posture of holding a rifle, mumbling softly while repeatedly bending and straightening their right index fingers, practicing trigger pulls.
"It’s a good method, but the gun cannot be shot accurately without practice." He paused, then added, "You can’t learn marksmanship just by imagining it. If they don’t get hands-on practice with live rounds, they’ll end up emptying their magazines in once go during actual combat."
The other two said nothing.
Deng patted Semler on the shoulder and pointed to the M-Gator’s cargo bucket. "Alright then, once they’ve gotten used to the trigger control, have them do live-fire exercises. Make sure they get enough practice with live ammo. Mr. Harris and I will sort out the ammunition for you." He glanced at Harris and asked, "How long will it take to get extra ammo?"
"I’ll need to make a phone call to find out, but our company has a good relationship with the Botswana government. Arranging an arms shipment shouldn’t be a problem."
"How much can we get?"
"About 300,000 rounds."
"Okay," Deng nodded, as if talking to himself, "Three hundred thousand rounds, even if used sparingly, will only last two weeks..."
Hearing the implication, Harris quickly added, "I’ll head back right away and make some calls. I’ll see if I can get more ammunition." He then started walking toward the M-Gator.
"Wait, I’ll go with you." Deng called out to him, then turned to Semler, "I’ve got some things to take care of later, so you’ll be in charge of this afternoon’s training. Remember to return the weapons before sunset. When you get back, tally their clothing and shoe sizes, and tell me before dinner."
"Okay." Semler had two of the trainees unload the weapons and ammunition from the M-Gator, while Deng and Harris drove back to the camp’s office building.
Deng was exhausted. The thirty-plus-hour flight had kept him from sleeping for almost two days and nights. He barely typed two lines of the training plan before yawning repeatedly. He took a few clothes from his luggage, took a hot shower, and then went to bed.
That night, Deng arrived at the mess hall just before closing. The staff had already started cleaning up. The mess hall manager and head chef, an elderly black man who looked remarkably like Morgan Freeman, was eager to help. Knowing that Deng had just arrived at the camp that day, he took ingredients from the freezer meant for tomorrow’s meals and personally made a burger platter with cheesy hash browns, along with a cold salad and a bowl of chicken mushroom chowder.
After dinner, Deng returned to his room, opened the laptop Harris had given him, and initiated an audio call via MSN Messenger to conduct a conference meeting.
"I assume you’re all aware of the situation. Due to a change of plans, I’ll be staying here for a while. Keith will be in charge of work on that side." Deng then recounted the events of the shooting training that afternoon.
"You can’t judge African soldiers by the same standards as Europe contractors," Keith said in a half-reassuring tone. "Two years ago, I did a training project in Guinea-Bissau. The soldiers there were practically like civilians who had never touched a gun before. They had an infuriating habit—when firing, they would unconsciously close their eyes."
"I saw that kind of thing in Sierra Leone too," Du Preez chimed in. "Both the government forces and the RUF had the same bad habit—when shooting, they wouldn’t even use the sights. They’d just raise the gun and spray bullets. Unless they were at close range, anyone hit was really unlucky."
"In that case, these guys are practically elite," Deng said, half-mockingly. "I called this meeting because you guys understand African soldiers better than I do, so I wanted to get some advice."
Du Preez was the first to respond, "Africans have good physical endurance. As long as the training volume is adequate, they can improve their combat skills. Semler is very capable in that area, so just leave it to him. However, the biggest issue with black soldiers is their weak will to fight. Back when EO was in Sierra Leone, we beat the RUF with just 300 mercenaries. Many people say that victory was achieved thanks to fuel-air explosives and armed helicopters, but in reality, low morale was their biggest weakness." He paused before adding, "In that famous battle in Kono, we defended a mine with helicopter support. In the end, we held off a thousand attackers for a week with just sixty-three men. Most of the time, as soon as the front-line guys were killed, the ones behind them would scatter."
Laughter came from the speakers after the South African finished speaking.
"It’s definitely an issue, and I’ll keep that in mind," Deng said. "I’m worried that the African soldiers aren’t used to Mechanical aperture sights, so I plan to order two hundred red dot sights along with the same number of 2324 standard mounts. That won’t be a problem, right?"
"Two hundred will need to be ordered, but it shouldn’t be too difficult," Jansen replied, then asked, "Which brand of red dot sights are you looking for?"
"They’re training with Kobra sights, but any affordable brand will do. They all work similarly. Include any optical gear you guys need in the order, and get me a 4x SpecterDR while you’re at it."
"Alright," Jansen said, then added, "Yesterday I found a broker who has connections with Norinco. He can get Chinese-made Dyneema ballistic plates."
"Dyneema?" Deng thought for a moment, then asked, "The stuff similar to Spectra?"
"Yeah, that’s the one."
"How much?"
"He’s asking $320 per plate, including shipping from China to South Africa. He also said they could be delivered in four weeks."
"I’m not too confident about this stuff's protective capability," Deng said, frowning. "I’ve heard that China also makes ceramic plates similar to SAPI. Does he have access to those?"
"Not sure, but I can ask," Jansen replied. "I know SAPI offers better protection, but if it’s unavailable, there’s nothing we can do. Actually, Dyneema meets NIJ Level III standards, which is good enough for AK or other small-caliber rounds, and it’s also lightweight."
"If SAPI is unavailable, go ahead and get these," Deng said after considering it. "Also, we’ve already ordered the rifles—Indonesian-made FNCs—so just order pouches for the NATO-standard 4179 magazines. I’ve also gotten the clothing and shoe sizes, which I’ll email to you later. Once the uniforms and gear are ordered, you’ll need to procure other equipment too—Keith will give you the list."
"Got it. If there are any problems, I’ll call you."
"Contact Keith if you have questions—there’s no cell reception here, so we’ll mainly communicate online."
After discussing a bit more, Deng ended the meeting. He opened "Notepad" and continued drafting the training plan, planning to discuss it with Semler the next morning.
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Notes:
- Dyneema: A type of ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene (UHMWPE) material produced in the Netherlands.
- Spectra: An ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene (UHMWPE) material produced in the United States.
- SpecterDR: A variable magnification sight produced by the Canadian company Elcan.