An army officer at the scene said the raid was carried out by an estimated 200 AAR guerrillas who swept into the village, shooting anything moving and chopping and hacking with bush knives.

“Forty-six women and children were murdered, some children still in their beds clutching dolls,” one stunned investigator said as he pointed to the burned remains of the once prosperous village. “Militarily, it was a terrible waste, an act of pure animalistic savagery.”

One girl about four years of age was found with her throat slit. Pregnant women were found with large bruises on their abdomens, indicating they had been stomped to death.

Defense Ministry officials were hard pressed to speculate on what provoked the attack. All the victims were civilians. The nearest military installation is 12 miles away.

Until now, the African Army of Revolution, led by American expatriate Hiram Jones, who now calls himself Hiram Lusana, has fought a strict military war, attacking only South African defense forces and facilities.

Barbaric assaults by other insurgent groups have been commonplace along South Africa’s northern borders. Defense leaders find this new pattern most puzzling.

The only previous type of massacre involving the AAR occurred during the Fawkes farm raid in Umkono, Natal, in which 32 were killed.

It is known that Hiram Jones-Lusana is currently in Washington soliciting support for the AAR.

Lusana could not accept the article’s impact until he had read it through four times. Finally he looked up, shaken, and opened his palms in a gesture of amazement.

“This is not my doing,” he said.

Daggat looked up from the book. “I believe you, Hiram. I am quite

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aware that gross stupidity is not one of your virtues. However, as commanding officer, you are responsible for the conduct of your troops.”

“Jumana!” Lusana blurted as full realization dawned on him. “You’re mistaken, Congressman, I am stupid. Tom Machita tried to warn me of Jumana’s renegade leanings, but I refused to listen.”

“The heavyset colonel weighted down with medals,” said Daggat. “I remember him from your cocktail party. A leader of aprominent tribe, I believe you said.”

Lusana nodded. “A ‘favorite son’ of the Srona tribe. He spent over eight years in South African prisons before I arranged his escape. He has strong support throughout Transvaal province. Politically, I thought it an expedient move to name him my second-in-command.”

“As with too many Africans who are suddenly thrust into a position of power, he apparently conjured up fantasies of grandeur.”

Lusana stood and leaned wearily against a shelf of books. “The idiot,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Can’t he understand that he’s destroying the very cause he’s fighting for?”