Tales from 5 Commando: The Committee Men

Faradje was a rather quiet place to be stationed in the Congo during the Simba Rebellion of the mid 1960s, but that's where Col. Mike Hoare had found himself. He remarked that the most dangerous threat they faced was a visit from General Mobutu, head of the ANC. Boredom, the arch enemy of all soldiers, had begun to blossom, and where boredom blossoms, especially among mercenaries, can villainy be far behind? Not far at all, remarked Col. Hoare.

The story of Sgt. Samuel Shoesmith, once 5 Commando's intelligence officer is a tale of such. He was an American, the only American on contract in 5 Commando at the time. Col. Hoare described him as sharp, astute, fun-loving, and very easy to get along with. Prior to becoming a mercenary, Sammy worked in car dealerships, sales positions, and even as an auctioneer, but found civilian life drab and unprofitable. He emigrated from New York to the copper belt in Rhodesia and worked in the mines, gathering knowledge on explosives and would later use that knowledge in the Congo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Sammy became the go to expert on bank notes and other profitable instruments that mercenaries had gathered from banks and post offices around the Congo.

Col. Hoare normally began each morning at 0600 hours with his first task of going over the signals received overnight that Sgt. Shoesmith brought to his quarters each morning. Though on this particular morning the Col. described Sammyl's as looking like he'd been run over, and as it turns out, he had been. Sammy, in a pained voice, explained that a Congolese ration truck had run him over and that he was worried his ribs were fractured and had potentially pierced his lungs.

Col. Hoare had his suspicions as to how Sammy came to his apparent injuries as it was extremely unlikely for him to get hurt in any way, especially going under the wheels of a ration truck. Later that day the Col. stopped by the casualty ward, as was routine and found Sammy's chest encased in plaster from neck to navel. The doctor had been called away unexpectedly and the medical orderly diagnosed Sammy and plastered him up. Prognosis was good and Sammy would be back up to snuff if he was given 30 days of complete rest. The doctor returned, and with a shake of his head agreed with most of the diagnosis and suggested that Sammy receive a month of sick leave instead of laying around Faradje for a month. Sammy was sent back to New York to rest up. 

Though over the course of Sammy's absence, the real story slowly leaded through to the Col. in dribs and drabs. The previous night, before Sammy was given sick leave, he and two others made an after hours visit to an abandoned house, that used to belong to the Bishop of Faradje, a Roman Catholic dignitary of some preeminence. In one of the still well furnished reception rooms the trio discovered a small oil painting, encased in a gilded frame, and to their "astute" eyes looked agreeably rare and valuable. They came to an agreement that it was a 17th century Dutch scene, after Sammy the "art expert" had studied over it, he declared it to be a genuine Rembrandt known as "the Night Watch". He recognized it since his mom had a reproduction in their home. They removed the painting from its frame and Sammy stowed it underneath his uniform across his stomach. Little did the other two know that Sammy's knowledge of art was extremely shallow; he visited an art gallery once, since they were supposed to have live nude models in some exhibits. 

Sammy told his partners that in a place like Faradje, nevermind the whole Congo, that the art was worth near to nothing in Congolese francs. After a few hours of libation and scheming, it was determined that one of them had to get to New York, somehow. They knew they couldn't simply get leave and it was near impossible to be wounded in action in Faradje, so they hatched a plan that Sammy and the others drunkenly agreed to. The first step was to get "Nobby" Clark, the MO's orderly, to join up with the "Committee Men". Nobby got the doctor called away and adhered the painting to Sammy's body under the plaster cast and falsely diagnosed all of Sammy's ailments, saving him from actually needing to be run over. Although 3 gallons of toddy later the other committee members got in an argument over who knows what and beat the tar out of Sammy, fracturing his ribs and leaving him looking like he had indeed lost to the ration truck. The plaster ensured the safe passage of the painting and Sammy through both Congolese customs and the officials at JFK Airport. 

By the time Sammy arrived in New York, his plaster had become a torture device, full of crumbs and bugs, making him writhe around and sometimes burst in to small fits. Sammy got the plaster off and resuscitated the painting and affixed it in another gilded frame and headed down to 5th Avenue to meet up with Abraham Rubinstein, a famous New York art critic and art dealer. Once they had been acquainted, Rubinstein inquired as to which Rembrandt piece Shoesmith had in his possession, Sammy replied "I'm pretty sure it's the Night Watch". Rubinstein mumbled "Night Watch" repeatedly while thinking through a Rembrandt catalog, then said "ah yes, the night watch, presently on display at the Rake's Museum in Amsterdam". A lesser man than Sammy may have been mortified, but Sammy insisted that the painting he possessed was a miniature of the Night Watch still indeed painted by Rembrandt.

Sammy was already in wonderland while Rubinstein examined the piece. Rubinstein, being a kind old man, who had seen it all in his extensive career, brought Sammy back to reality with his estimate. "20 dollars for the painting" and after seeing Sammy's crestfallen face added "maybe 30 dollars for the frame". Sammy held his head high, thanked Mr. Rubinstein for his time and headed back up 5th Avenue, tossing the painting in a trash can. Sammy recounts feeling an unaccountable yearning to head back to Faradje and be once again with his partners in crime, the "Committee Men".