A beret, a bottle of Beaujolais and a baguette

Nothing is ever true, so the saying goes, until it has been officially denied. The French Government terrorist bombing of the Greenpeace ship the Rainbow Warrior is a classic case.

French Secret Service agents killed Greenpeace photographer Fernando Pereira in the attack, in an operation that would have made the bungling Inspector Clousseau look slick. Despite mounting evidence to the contrary gathered within days of the attack France continued to deny responsibility for over two months. Here we trace the events that led to the eventual reluctant admission of guilt and the disappearance of those responsible.

July 10, 1985: Dishevelled, and numb with shock, the crew of the Rainbow Warrior stood, staring into the dark waters of Marsden Wharf, the smallest of three commercial piers piercing Auckland's Waitemata Harbour. Before them, lying crippled and half submerged in the water was the Warrior - their home and an international symbol of peace.

Several hours, but what felt like a lifetime, earlier there had been an explosion. Some had been stirred from sleep by a dull, muffled thud, as though something heavy had been dropped on the deck above. Those still awake, and clustered around the small mess room table, were suddenly plunged into darkness.

Everything happened at once. The steady drone of the generator, that formed a constant backdrop to life on board, ceased abruptly, the darkness was marginally lifted by the eerie glow of the emergency lights, the moment of silence was almost instantly replaced with the sharp crack of breaking glass and the sudden ferocious roar of water. Their immediate thought had been that something, possibly a tug, had hit them.

Two minutes later a second explosion: a flash of blue light streaked through the cloudy waters around the ship. Those already on deck scrambled up the ladder or leaped to safety on the wharf. In a matter of minutes they watched as the twin steel masts of the ship tilted towards them.

Their crew mates Hanne Sorensen and Fernando Pereira were both missing.

Three hours earlier, at around 8pm, the Rainbow Warrior had been in party mood and bustling with the business of the ship. Fellow Greenpeacers from Pacific-rim countries had come to Auckland to discuss the upcoming "Pacific Peace Voyage." Among the new arrivals were American Steve Sawyer and Greenpeace New Zealand's directors Elaine Shaw and Carol Stewart. In the three short days that the Warrior had been in Auckland, the crew, together with New Zealand volunteers, had been patching up the wear and tear the ship had suffered during recent months in the Pacific Islands. They had been evacuating the Rongelapese people to another island, Majeto. Their tiny island of Rongelap, had been severely contaminated with radiation from American nuclear tests on nearby Bikini Atoll and despite repeated requests to be moved no one, until Greenpeace came along, was willing to help. July 10 was Steve Sawyer's birthday and Margaret Mills had baked a cake, boasting a jelly bean rainbow, for the occasion.

There was still business to attend to, though. The 'Greenpeacers' and the skippers of other yachts were preparing to sail together to Moruroa in a 'Peace Flotilla', to oppose French plans for a series of underground nuclear tests. The group agreed their plans. They also agreed that they would inevitably face stiff opposition or perhaps even interference from French navy patrols. None even began to imagine what kind of interference had been sanctioned in Paris and was already being put into action that very night in Auckland.

Soon after 11pm, the meeting broke up. Accompanied by some of the crew, the Warrior's visitors left. Some of those still on board, - including captain Pete Willcox, radio operator Lloyd Anderson, Margaret Mills and engineer Hanne Sorenson - wished their friends good night and went below to their cabins. On a whim that may even have saved her life, Hanne went back above deck and decided to take a brisk walk in the night air. Seven others, including photographer Fernando Pereira, remained chatting around the mess-room table, sharing between them the last two bottles of beer. Checking to see whether the bars would still be open, they noticed the clock read ten to midnight. Then the lights went out...

 

An ordinary day in Auckland

It began as ordinary day for most of Auckland's residents. It would be just another working day for Becky Hayter, a receptionist who recently moved from downtown to the airport branch of Newman's, one of New Zealand's biggest travel and car rental firms. Taxi-driver and Devonport mayor Jim Titchener began his day's work, while his wife Barbara planned a visit to the hairdresser. Another taxi-driver, Mike Harris, was looking forward to drinks with his mates that evening at the Auckland Outboard Boating Club on Tamaki Drive, overlooking Hobson Bay. He was happy that it wasn't his turn to be on the regular two-man nightly patrol of Hobson Bay neighbourhood watch, set up following a spate of thefts and vandalism to boats in the Bay. In Marsden Wharf, just along from the recently arrived Rainbow Warrior, Warren Sinclair started his day on the Explorer, a 140-tonne vessel, sprucing her up in readiness for the coming tourist season.

By 7pm Jim Titchener was enjoying his evening meal, listening to his wife Barbara's account of her day. She broke off as she spotted two strangers in the adjacent Blair Park, a quarter-acre grassy area with a narrow zig-zagging concrete path through a copse and down to a long wooden slipway into the waters of Ngataringa Bay. Between them they carried an inflated Zodiac rubber dinghy. It was the light grey colour that attracted Barbara's attention, an unusual colour for an inflatable among the other boats in this so-called 'City of Sails'.

Around 9:30pm, Mike Harris was also enjoying his evening, having that drink with his mates at the Outboard Boating Club. They thought little of the small inflatable Zodiac they spotted pulled up on a wooden ramp leading up to the roadside. Just then, the two patrolling vigilantes passed by. They had seen the driver of the Zodiac climbing out of the inflatable and jogging away down Tamaki Drive, returning moments later in a white camper van. Helped by another man, the Zodiac driver offloaded a large bundle from the boat and into the back of the van. Their suspicions aroused, they telephoned the police. One of the vigilantes had managed to jot down the vehicle details at it sped away - - a white Toyota Hiace, registration plate LB 8945. However, by the time the police arrived, all that was left was a light grey Zodiac, securely locked to the railings, and nothing else to indicate anything was amiss.

Around 11.50 pm, across the harbour Warren Sinclair had just switched off his marine radio and was about to bunk down for the night aboard the Explorer, when there was a muffled thud. A sudden wave lifted his boat, bumping it against the dock.

 

July 11, 1985

At around 3am and within seven minutes of sliding into the water, one of the team of New Zealand navy divers called to inspect the Warrior wreckage, surfaced with the body of Fernando Pereira in his arms. He had been found lying face down on the floor of the cabin next to his own. Exactly what had happened to him is unclear. After the first explosion he rushed below decks with Martini Gotje and Andy Biedermann to check if anyone had been left behind. Martini went to the cabin he shared with Hanne, and found it empty. Andy roused Margaret Mills who was still asleep. The pair was first out. Martini remembers that Fernando was 'right behind him' when the second bomb went off.

With all the remaining crew and visitors' safe, the police had a new priority. If what had seemed impossible really had happened, if the Rainbow Warrior had been the victim of sabotage and Pereira had been murdered, who did it?

A big, long and complicated case

At Auckland's Central Police Station, Detective Inspector Allan Galbraith, appointed to oversee the investigation, knew that this would be a big, long and complicated case. He immediately demanded additional resources. By the end of the week, 56 officers would form the investigation team, at its height that number would grow to over 100. Over the next four months more than 6,000 interviews would be carried out.

For now, however, the investigation was in its infancy. Following interviews with the crew, the police already had some initial leads. The morning papers reported the attack on the Rainbow Warrior and that the Auckland police wanted to interview a Frenchman who had visited the ship earlier that day. This prompted Frank McLean, a Senior Customs Officer in Whangarei, north of Auckland, to recall - and report - an incident in late June involving a French crewed sloop ship, the Ouvéa.

Gerard Andries - one of the yacht Ouvea crew suspected in the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior.

She had been docked in Whangarei and set sail on 9 July. During routine immigration checks, McLean's instincts told him something didn't quite fit. Having a distinct military bearing, three of them carried brand new, uncreased, and unmarked passports. One claimed to be a photographer although no camera equipment was in evidence when McLean checked over the vessel.

Back in Auckland, the hole in the side of the Rainbow Warrior had now been thoroughly examined. Big enough to drive a car through: the first bomb had blown the generator to pieces; the second damaged the propeller, stern-shaft and rudder, cracked the stern frame in two places and blew in a ballast tank. The previous night's abandoned Zodiac, the man in the wetsuit and the white camper van, now traced to Newman's car rentals, took on new sinister overtones.

 

Major Alain Mafart, alias "Alain Turenge" one of two French agents convicted and sentenced for the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior.

July 12th: Becky Hayter reported to work at the airport branch of Newman's shortly before 8:30am. Standing at the counter was the Swiss couple to whom she had leased a white Toyota Hiace. They had decided to go home early they told her, and wanted to return their van as they were due to fly out of Auckland that very morning. Alain Turenge estimated that he was entitled to a refund of NZ$130.

Becky and the other Newman's staff had already been alerted that the drivers of this particular van were wanted for questioning, however. While one kept the Swiss couple talking, another called the police. Twenty minutes later Detective David McSweeney walked into the office and the Turenges were invited to accompany him back to the police station for questioning.

It didn't take long to establish they were carrying false passports. Later, their true identities were revealed: Major Alain Mafart and Captain Dominique Prieur were both high-ranking agents of the DGSE, the French Secret Services.

Captain Dominique Prieur, alias "Sophie Turenge" one of two French agents convicted and sentenced for the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior.

Evidence and logic, however, suggested they acted only in a support role for the bombers. The eye-witness accounts of the Titcheners and the guys from the Outboard Boating Club revealed the presence of others in the story, and the questionable crew of the Ouvéa drew increasing attention.

The French Connection

The French connection quickly grew stronger, according to Detective Inspector Galbraith. Information came from many sources including New Zealand's customs officers, who had made the routine search of the Ouvéa when the yacht arrived in New Zealand.

July 26:

By now police investigations pointed to the Ouvéa having been used to transport the explosives and other French agents to New Zealand. Three crew members were eventually identified as DGSE agents (Roland Verge, Gerald Andries

Roland Verge - one of the yacht Ouvea crew suspected in the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior.

and Jean-Michel Barcelo). The fourth was a Navy reservist and freelance doctor specialising in the treatment of diving injuries (Xavier Christian Jean Maniguet). Although they were brought in for questioning shortly after the bombing, the police had insufficient evidence at the time to hold them. They and the Ouvéa quickly disappeared. The police believe that the yacht now lies at the bottom of the deep ocean and the crew were evacuated by a French submarine.
Xavier Christian Maniguet - one of the yacht Ouvea crew suspected in the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior.

Xavier Christian Maniguet - one of the yacht Ouvea crew suspected in the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior.

Greenpeace New Zealand's recent French volunteer who had sent a post card of condolence, Frédérique Bonlieu, was later revealed to have been Christine Cabon, a captain in the French Army.

Information also emerged detailing a meeting between Major Mafart and Captain Prieur and the DGSE agents from the Ouvea. Forensic evidence uncovered fingerprints from Mafart and Prieur on documents found on theOuvea.

Such was the depth and breadth of the trail left by the French agents of the DGSE, it was quickly observed by the media that the only thing missing was 'a beret, a bottle of Beaujolais and a baguette.'

Along with the crew of the Ouvea, New Zealand's police force still have warrants out for the questioning of two more agents, Alain Tonel and Jacques Camurier, who are believed to have been the back-up team. A warrant is also still out for Colonel Louis Pierre Dillais, revealed as the head of "Operation Satanic" in a book written by Mafart after his return to France. Colonel Dillias was later identified as having stayed in a hotel room overlooking Marsden Wharf.

"In no way was France involved"

Despite the Clousseauesque performance of the secret agents, the French government continued with its original denial made on July 11 that "in no way was France involved".

August 8. As media speculation in France mounted about government involvement the pressure on the Government of François Mitterand became too great to bear. An inquiry was ordered.

August 20. The inquiry headed by former general secretary of the Elysee Palace, Bernard Tricot, quickly came to the improbable conclusion that the government had not ordered the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior, and that there was no evidence to suggest that the DGSE had instructed its agents to conduct Operation Satanic. In an unconvincing attempt to explain their presence in New Zealand, Tricot revealed that 6 DGSE agents had indeed been dispatched to New Zealand to gather intelligence on Greenpeace.

September 5. The Tricot report had a very short shelf life. Following new revelations in the influential Le Monde newspaper, a fresh inquiry was ordered by France's Prime Minister, Laurent Fabius, and this time to be run by Defence Minister Charles Hernu.

September 19. Further revelations from Le Monde citing DGSE agents who claimed that President Mitterrand himself had advanced notice of Operation Satanic put more pressure on Hernu's inquiry. He finally called DGSE chief Admiral Lacoste to account. Lacoste refused to answer a number of questions claiming that doing so would endanger the lives of some DGSE agents. Lacoste was sacked and Hernu resigned.

 

Neutralised

Damage from the bomb set over the propellor shaft of the Rainbow Warrior by French Agents.

September 21. Finally, it had become impossible for the denials to hide the truth. Fabius admitted on French TV that DGSE agents, acting under orders to "neutralise" her, had indeed blown up the Rainbow Warrior.

With the admission by France, the UN was called in to mediate a settlement between France and New Zealand. Eventually the French government was forced into an unconvincing apology and ordered it to pay NZ$13 million to the New Zealand government. Later still, Greenpeace received US$8 million from France. This enabled us to build the replacement for the Rainbow Warrior, the current Rainbow Warrior II.

November 4. World attention focused once more on Auckland on the first day of the trial of Captain Prieur and Major Mafart. But the attendant media would be disappointed as the pair both entered guilty pleas, thus avoiding a lengthy trial and the possibility of more revelations to rock the French establishment. They were sentenced to ten years imprisonment for manslaughter, and seven years for arson, to run concurrently.

In the months that followed France exerted serious economic pressure on New Zealand over dairy exports and a deal was struck that allowed the two to serve their time in a French military prison. They served a little over two years of their sentences before being freed and returning to Paris, where they were honoured with military medals and resumed their careers.

Today, many of the events surrounding L'Affaire Greenpeace, the bombing of the Rainbow Warrior and Operation Satanic, remain unclear. So far no proper public inquiry into the bombing and the murder of Fernando Pereira has been held in France. New Zealand's police have been denied the opportunity to interview most of the DGSE agents responsible. The guilty have not been punished and justice has not been served.

Marelle Pereira, one Fernando's two children, was just eight years old when her father was murdered. Noting Mitterrand's 1985 promise of 'justice at the highest level' she reacts angrily saying that if what has happened is justice at the highest level, then there is no justice in France. However, she notes, it is never too late for France to tell the truth nor is it too late for justice.
Fernando Pereira and his daughter, Marelle, then eight years old.

Photo by kind permission of Marelle Pereira.