Michael “Mad Mike” Hoare was arguably the most famous mercenary of his generation. His death aged 100 last Sunday was notable and carried by major international news outlets.
It was also a surprise to some for various reasons. When, for instance, I casually mentioned the news to a friend during a phone call, it took him by more than surprise. He thought “Mad Mike” had long bravely died in one of his escapades.
Everybody who listened or read news “knew” the hired soldier in his day. My friend spoke as if he knew the mercenary personally.
The last he had heard of him was in 1981 after the dramatically failed coup in the Seychelles to which he proceeded to give a halting blow-by-blow account. It is now he is filling in the blanks of his hero’s life.
Those who have read Frederick Forsyth’s novel, Dogs of War, might appreciate my friend’s sense of drama at the mention of the mercenary. The book is about a fictional African country of Zangaro and European mercenary soldiers hired by a British industrialist to depose its government.
The Seychelles’ incident would easily have been a tale in that book. To see why, I recount the incident as summarised by the New York Times earlier this week eulogizing the celebrated soldier of fortune.
In 1981, when he was 62, Mr Hoare again made headlines, leading a gaggle of over-the-hill mercenaries from South Africa, Zimbabwe and several European nations in a bizarre attempt to overthrow the Socialist government of the Seychelles, an Indian Ocean island republic.
Apparently, with Pretoria’s connivance, they flew to the Seychelles posing as rugby players and members of a beer-drinking club, the Ancient Order of Foam Blowers, carrying equipment bags with false bottoms hiding weapons and walkie-talkies. But a customs agent spotted a gun muzzle and a firefight erupted.
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