The Congo: The Hoodlum Rebels

"They took us outside and lined us up against the wall. This was it. But to amuse themselves they deferred to tots —no more than seven or eight years old. 'What shall we do with them?' asked the adults. The children devised a different fate for each of us. 'Cut that one's ear off and make him eat it,' or, 'Cut his stomach open,' or, 'Put his eyes out.' Two rebels kept sharpening their spears all the time. The children yelled, 'Let's get started. Kill the first one!' "

Such was the nightmare ordeal of 24 Europeans held prisoner by Communist-backed rebels in the Congolese town of Kindu, as recounted by a Belgian tin-mine employee. As things turned out, the children were disappointed, for at the last moment one of Moise Tshombe's government bombers buzzed the town, and the rebels fled. But this and other stories coming to light last week added up to a grim composite picture of the Congolese rebels.

Blackened Pavement. For all their claim of being "nationalists"—a label that in present-day Africa automatically draws a certain respect—the rebels are really just savage hoodlums on the loose. At Kindu airport, waiting to be flown out, a weeping Belgian woman told how rebel youths had speared and knifed her husband and two sons to death before her eyes in the family's backyard. In the village of Kibombo, three elderly Belgian men were murdered with shotguns.

Actually, the rebels have killed more blacks than whites. To deal with Congolese "enemies of the revolution," villagers would be assembled as a "people's court." A prisoner would be brought forward, and the crowd would be asked whether the accused was innocent or guilty. There was seldom any doubt about the verdict. In the square near Kindu's main shopping district, hundreds of Congolese were burned to death with gasoline in front of the local Lumumba monument. Following Kindu's recapture fortnight ago, government forces blew up the monument; the adjoining pavement was still cracked and blackened from the rebel burnings.

Captured documents showed that the rebel leaders themselves were having trouble with their chaotic troops. Commanders evidently had to field a steady stream of inspectors to keep the simbas (or "lions," as the rebel soldiers call themselves) in line. The rebels, like most Congolese, could not kick their tribal superstitions. One communique from a rebel officer ended with an urgent P.S.: "I beg monsieur le colonel to make sure that all bridges in our territory be washed with medicine to protect against bombardment."

Another guerrilla major reported that during an inspection trip he had been repeatedly arrested by leaders of the rebels' own youth wing, the Jeunesse, who "would not respect my rank." One loutish Jeunesse captain even threatened to have his fraternal superior executed for "troublemaking," until the major paid him a 3,000-franc ($20) bribe.