The Saints The Rhodesian Light Infantry by Alexander Binda - PDFCOFFEE.COM (2024)

By the same author: Masodja—The history of The Rhodesian African Rifles and its forerunner The Rhodesia Native Regiment

eBook co-published in 2014 by: Helion & Company Limited 26 Willow Road Solihull West Midlands B91 1UE England Tel. 0121 705 3393 Fax 0121 711 4075 email: [emailprotected] website: www.helion.co.uk and 30° South Publishers (Pty) Ltd. 16 Ivy Road Pinetown 3610 South Africa email: [emailprotected] website: www.30degreessouth.co.za PRINT ISBN: 9781920143077 EPUB ISBN: 9781909384903 Copyright © Alexandre Binda, 2007 eBook © Alexandre Binda, 2012 Design and origination by 30° South Publishers (Pty) Ltd. Full-colour maps by Richard Wood Grey-scale maps and diagrams by Geneviève Edwards Dust jacket painting by Craig Bone All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, manipulated in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any mechanical, electronic form or by any other means, without the prior written authority of the publishers except for short extracts in media reviews. Any person who engages in any unauthorized activity in relation to this publication shall be liable to criminal prosecution and claims for civil and

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Queen’s Colour

Regimental Colour

President’s Colour

Regimental Colour

A tribute from Ian Douglas Smith Many years ago, before we declared UDI, Ron Reid-Daly invited me to the Sergeants’ Mess at Cranborne. It was a difficult time for me as I weighed up our options in the face of British intransigence and I had to consider the positions of personnel in both the civilian and military leadership, some of whom were divided in their loyalties. In the course of a few beers in the company of those good men I knew we could take on the world. I left with my spirits high. I was not wrong. The conventional wisdom was we would capitulate within weeks but we shocked the world. There is no record in recent history of a country so small defying such adversity with means so meagre. From the beginning of hostilities to the end the panache and fighting spirit of the Rhodesians was epitomized by the officers and men of the RLI who fought throughout with courage, fortitude and reckless disregard for their own welfare. History will also show that the battle for Rhodesia was not a war against a ‘liberation army’ but against terrorists who threatened a bastion of Christian civilization in a lonely African outpost. Because our erstwhile allies in the West believed the communist propaganda that this was a racial

conflict, they were happy to sanction the onslaught and watch us fight alone. Today the terror scourge is a problem that transfixes the same powers that have looked on with forlorn indifference as Robert Mugabe has ravaged our country. They now are forced to confront the same evil in a different guise and they are heavily exercised by the challenge. For some of the answers to the problems that lie ahead they need only look at the history of the RLI. There they will find many of the solutions they seek but they will also discover to their chagrin that they have an extraordinarily difficult act to follow. May God bless the men who served with this excellent regiment that filled Rhodesians with pride, and keep safe those who died in the defence of our country.

Ian Douglas Smith Cape Town, February 2007

CONTENTS List of maps Foreword by Lieutenant-Colonel J. C. W. Aust MLM Acknowledgments Author’s notes A brief background 1960 – 1961 Birth of a battalion; The Congo; A Company notes 1962 – 1964 Cranborne barracks—the new home; The colours approved; The break-up of Federation—unrest begins; A Company notes 1965 – 1967 The colours and commandos; The run-up to UDI; Operation Pagoda; Operation Yodel—first real contact; Notes; Recruits’ course; Operation Nickel 1968 Operation Cauldron—baptism of fire; Operation Glove; Battalion organization and role; Tactics and kit; Commando notes; Operation Flotilla; Operation Griffin; Meat patrol; Operation Excess; A night on the parade square; Notes 1969 – 1970 Traditions; Pitman’s elephant; Notes; Exercise Rum Jungle; Operations with the Portuguese; Operation Birch; State of the nation; Trooping the colour; ‘A corporal’s war’

1971 – 1972 Tenth birthday; Nicknames, flags and badges; The taal; Social misfits; Notes; Breakdown and build-up; Operation Sable; Altena Farm—the war ‘proper’ begins … again 1973 – 1975 Operation Hurricane—and ZANLA tests the waters; The ‘cordon sanitaire’ and protected villages; The Selous Scouts are formed; MT report from ‘Landmine Mac’; ZANU war communiqué; ‘I am a lieutenant in the RLI …’; ‘Scene’ at Madziwa; Ambush; Death of a driver; Ops in Mozambique; The Fireforce concept; A black day for 2 Commando; ZANLA on the back foot— and the Portuguese collapse; Casevac; A death at Pachanza Keep; Standing Orders for Dying; Notes; Christmas tragedy 1976 Song of the 28th; Escalation—Operations Thrasher, Repulse and Tangent; Support Group becomes a commando; Dawn joins 1 Commando; Fresh poes, nashos and foreigners; Fireforce matters; 1 Commando in Operation Hurricane; 3 Commando in Operation Hurricane; 1 Commando at Segurança; 2 Commando in Operation Hurricane; Support Commando in Operation Hurricane; 3 Commando in Operation Thrasher; Battle of ‘Hill 31’; 2 Commando in Operation Thrasher 1977 Bogged down in politics; Airborne; Fireforce matters; Dispatchers; I Commando attacks Mavui; Operation Aztec; Now you hold it right there!; 2 Commando in Operation Hurricane; 3 Commando in Operation Hurricane; Support Commando in Operation Hurricane; Operation from FAF-5; 2 Commando in Operation Thrasher; 3 Commando in Operation Thrasher; A gunner gets hit; Support Commando in Operation Thrasher; A tribute to a troopie; 1 Commando at Malvernia; Operation Dingo—the attacks on Chimoio and Tembué; Captain Webster’s dairies; A letter from 1 Commando 1978 Just another day; A bad day for the Air Force; Politics; Operation Turmoil; ‘Ceasefire’ and SFAs; Atrocities and Operation Splinter; Fireforce matters; The Troopie Statue; Notes; Casualty rates and strengths; Strange and other

happenings; 1 Commando in Operation Hurricane; 3 Commando in Operation Hurricane; 3 Commando in Operation Thrasher; Support Commando in Operation Hurricane; Support Commando history and structure; Operation Snoopy; Operation Gatling; Captain Webster’s diary; The RLI’s ‘Lifesaver’ 1979 Zimbabwe–Rhodesia and Lancaster House; Fireforce matters; Notes; 3 Commando in Operation Thrasher; 2 Commando in Operation Thrasher; Support Commando in Operation Thrasher; 2 Commando in Operation Repulse; 3 Commando in Operation Hurricane; 3 Commando in Operation Repulse; Operation Oppress; First contact, first kill; Operation Uric; Operation Miracle; Operation Cheese; Operation Tepid; Captain Webster’s dairies; The last casualty; The last contact 1980 The beginning of the end; Phase 1—ceasefire; Phase 2—planning in political defeat; Phase 3—elections; Phase 4—the end approaches; The final parade; Postscript Afterword By Dr. Keith A. Nelson Timeline Glossary Senior Personnel Lists of Battalion Commanding Officers, Regimental Sergeants-Major, Officers Commanding, Commando Sergeants-Major, Adjutants, Seconds-inCommand; Biographies of Commanding Officers and Regimental SergeantsMajor Honours and awards Citations Roll of Honour

Note from the publisher The RLI Regimental Association Photographic credits The Subscribers

List of Maps Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland Southern Rhodesia The Congo border Operation Nickel Operation Cauldron Operations into Tete Province Operation Hurricane Operation Thrasher Eastern border area—Rhodesia Rhodesian Security Forces operational boundaries ZANLA and ZIPRA operational boundaries Operation Aztec Operation Dingo, Zulu 1 Operation Dingo, Zulu 2 Operation Gatling Operation Uric Operation Cheese Operation Tepid

Foreword It would be advantageous, but by no means essential for you, the reader, to open these pages with some understanding of the background and history of Southern Rhodesia. That sadly short yet vivid, colourful and stirring history, encompassing a unique flavour of frontier adventure and traditional pride, washed with the resilient waters of fierce independence, would impart an important insight, not only with regard to the political ‘reasons why’ but also to Rhodesia’s people—those born and bred, those who adopted the country and those who chose to fight and die for a once-sacred garden of Africa. The people and their history blended in a unique manner to create an equally unique army, which, in turn, gave birth to the Rhodesian Light Infantry. Tutored under the auspices of the British Commonwealth, the unit grew and matured in peace and war to become one of the finest regiments of a small and determined army, which itself became the most efficient and successful irregular warfare machine ever known in Africa or indeed, perhaps, the world. Today, with the unfolding passage of history, ex-members of the Regiment live in every corner of the globe. This is understandable. At the close of the Rhodesian ‘bush war’ the unit counted no fewer than seventeen nationalities within her ranks. The unheralded popularity of Rhodesia’s cause attracted a surprising number of international volunteers who integrated with the tough local conscripts and seasoned regular veterans to produce a remarkable and unique band of brothers. There is little doubt that every individual looks back on those, now distant, days of RLI service, filled with a complex, wide spectrum of emotional memories—some sad, some bad, some shadowed by anxiety and fear, some with pain … but all with pride. Such is the legacy of war. There is little doubt that the dominant and common theme is one of comradeship, true comradeship—that rich prize known only to the fighting man—that rare human quality generated through shared dangers, hardships, laughter and a pride of unit.

They were unique soldiers, serving in a unique regiment, a regiment painted with the gold that enhances only the most special things in life. As with its parent country, the RLI has received little public acknowledgment over the years, this despite an outstanding record of professional conduct and success—seventeen bullet holes through a parachute canopy during a single combat descent—the most combat parachute jumps in a single day ever recorded. The Regiment presented a rare character of military professionalism balanced by outrageous leg-pulling laughter and ribaldry. They were men of men, their regiment unrivalled in the pages of war and its history. This book is long overdue. It presents a sorely needed historical record and will remain a gift of unrivalled value, subtly illustrating the character of the Regiment and the men of all ranks who marched and fought and died with such pride. It is a history in the true sense for all is now gone and only memories remain in a rapidly changing world. Through this work, ‘The Incredibles’ will live on—they will never die. Grandchildren, great-grandchildren and those who study the military profession and its history, now have access to the past and to a remarkable and wonderful regiment. We will never forget.

Lieutenant-Colonel J. C. W. Aust MLM Former Commanding Officer 1st Battalion The Rhodesian Light Infantry Denton, Lincolnshire, February 2007

Acknowledgments In April 2005, I contacted Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Aust, former commanding officer of the Rhodesian Light Infantry, to say that I was thinking of attempting a history of the Regiment. At that time I had just completed Masodja, a history of the Rhodesian African Rifles, and felt that a history of the RLI, long overdue, would make an appropriate companion volume. The response was immediate and approving. Two days later Chris co*cks and Chuck Melson both contacted me with similar enthusiasm—Chuck correctly describing the idea as ‘a great opportunity’. With this encouragement to start me off I began my quest for research material and contributions from former members of the Regiment and others. In the event I was not disappointed and my sincere thanks are extended to all the following who were ever-ready to assist in any way possible: A very special thank-you to Mr. Ian Smith for his tribute to the Regiment and to Hannes Wessels for organizing this. The ‘team’ of stalwarts from Masodja who gave instant and unstinting support, namely Bridget Wells-West for once again very kindly undertaking the tedious labour of proof-reading the manuscript and correcting any ‘infelicities of expression’ this Portuguese-educated author may have committed; Brigadier David Heppenstall for supplying copies of The Cheetah magazine along with a host of important source material and extremely helpful observations and suggestions; Charles D. Melson for providing copies of Assegai and much else including material from his draft of The Killing Machine and documents relating to Operation Dingo—his constant support and practical comments have been inspiring; John Wynne Hopkins for circulars pertaining to the JOC organization and for providing the Ceasefire Circular of 19 August 1978. The Regiment is deeply indebted, as am I, to Brian Streak, Captain Mike Blackman and Carrie Taylor, editorial staff of the no longer extant magazine The Cheetah. I cannot overemphasize how critical your contributions have been in keeping the flame alive. In a similar vein, Geoffrey Bond’s The Incredibles has been an important source of information on the earlier days, for which I express my gratitude.

A more recent publication from which I have drawn, and that fills in many of the gaps, is Dennis Croukamp’s Only my friends call me ‘Crouks’, a fine account, written from the heart. Stu Taylor served 14 years in the RLI, and has written his soon-to-be published memoirs Lost in Africa, to which I have gratefully been given access. Both these books are splendid accounts from ‘men on the ground’. And of course, Charlie Warren’s new book, Stick Leader—RLI, originally entitled At the going down of the sun, which has gone through a painful publishing process and has hopefully now found a home with John Dovey’s Just Done Productions. Thanks to both Charlie and John for allowing me to use extracts from the book. Dr. Richard Wood for the maps and for allowing the use of extracts from his ‘Fire Force’, ‘Rhodesian Insurgency’ and other numerous works. He is clearly the leading historian of this period in Rhodesian history and his insights and contributions are invaluable. Nothing was too much trouble for Craig Fourie who supplied a wealth of material in the form of photos and more specifically, citations. Chris Pearce, Dick Lockley and Peter Petter-Bowyer for the many useful contributions and additional comments as well as factual proof-reading. Special thanks to Ian Buttenshaw for his contributions and sharing with me his unrivalled wealth of knowledge of the Regiment—Ian has filled in an awful lot of gaps. Peter Cross for the souvenir edition of The Cheetah. Phill Lawton for making his RLI website available for appeals to former members. Phill’s website has been a lone beacon for the ouens over the years. Thank you to Jerry Strong, Phil Raath, David Hughes, Dawn Losper, Neil Kreil, Bruce McGregor, Marshall Ross, Jeremy Hall, Mike McDonald, Max T, Chris co*cks, Digger Essex-Clark, Jonathan Waldie, Charles Bezuidenhout, Jonathan Lane, Peter Westwood, Jimmy Swan, Willie Mohan, Craig Bone, Tony Young, Tony Coom, Rick Passaportis, Jimmy Swan, Gordon Thornton, Dave Parkin, Bruce Kidd, A. Rogers, Barry Gribbin, Ross Parker, Robin Tarr, Winston Pullin, Fraser Brown, Peter Walls, Tom Davidson, Mike Rich, Terry Griffin, Ian ‘Star Wars’ Gillespie, Roddy Smith, Charlie Norris, Simon Haarhoff, Pat Armstrong, Freddy Watts, Yolanda MacIntyre, Mike Rich, Gillian Parker, Maureen Southey, Belinda Hounsell, Rob Boden, Peter Cooper, Mark Eales, Steve Baldwin et al for their contributions, anecdotes and first-hand accounts. In no small way have you ouens, and ladies, helped bring the book to life.

A special mention must be made of Ian Bate’s contribution. Being the CO during the busiest and bloodiest period of the RLI’s short existence, his recollections are indeed priceless in terms of a historical record. And to Dr. Cliff Webster for his diaries—truly unique and invaluable records that they are, his entries bring an immediacy and poignancy to the conflict. A warm thank-you to Dr. Keith Nelson for writing the afterword. How this most remarkable American ever recovered from his horrendous wounds is beyond belief … Special acknowledgment must go to the late Beryl Salt, the author of that magnificent, definitive work on the history of the Rhodesian Air Force, A Pride of Eagles from which I have drawn. Beryl spent over 30 years putting this invaluable book together, a true labour of love. Also, I must mention Bill Sykes, the late Peter Cooke and Anne Cooke, who assisted Beryl in her monumental task. Thanks to those intrepid reporters of The Rhodesia Herald, whose names have been lost in the mists of time, but whose articles bring an element of immediacy to the book. A big thank-you to Charlie Aust for both the foreword and the final chapter and for his loyal support throughout. He also drew the sketches. And of course to Craig Bone, international wildlife and military artist par excellence, for the painting that he did specially for the cover, as well as for his sketches. Words simply cannot express my appreciation for your generosity and support. A special thank-you to John Wynne Hopkins for allowing reproduction of his artwork. Thanks to both David Heppenstall and Alison Ruffell for arranging access for me to the Rhodesian Army Archive at the British Empire and Commonwealth Museum in Bristol. I wish also to acknowledge the help of Mr. John McAleer and his staff at the museum who made available to me the extensive files of the Rhodesian Army Archive and for whom nothing was too much trouble. Of course, this book would not be what it is without the photographs. The publisher thanks and acknowledges all the contributors in the photographic credits section at the back of the book, but my heartfelt thanks and appreciation are extended to each and every contributor. Grateful thanks to my friend and neighbour, Duncan Elson, for his technical help. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the publishers Chris and Kerrin co*cks

and Jane Lewis. There is no doubt that their hard work in assembling, compiling and editing all the available material has paid off—the result is, I hope, a fine publication for us to treasure and enjoy and which will occupy a special and permanent place on our bookshelves. Finally I thank my wife Jane for putting her life on hold and giving me her total support throughout the process. Alex Binda Rothbury, Northumberland, February 2007 [emailprotected]

Author’s notes The contact reports described in the latter chapters are merely a sampling of the actions featuring the battalion’s commandos. I have endeavoured, however, to give each sub-unit as fair a representation as possible, but more importantly, to try and give the reader a feel of what it was like. Some of the actions mentioned in this book weren’t necessarily the biggest or the ‘hairiest’ contacts, but are a cross-section of what the RLI soldiers faced on a daily basis. Proportions have also played their part; e.g. Support Commando, as the largest sub-unit, may have merited slightly more coverage. On the external operations I have again attempted a balance. Because of their success and importance, it was mandatory that both Operations Dingo and Uric should be included. From the host of other externals I have also chosen, among others, Operation Tepid, not for its small success but for a myriad of other reasons, which the readers themselves will, hopefully, be able to assess. I do agree with a summarization by Brigadier Pat Lawless that the most significant operations are not necessarily always those with the highest kill rates. I have used extracts from Beryl Salt’s magnificent book, A Pride of Eagles, to bring the Air Force perspective to the action. I don’t doubt for a second that every single RLI troopie, to this day, has anything but the highest admiration and respect for these fine airmen. The Rhodesian Air Force was integral and crucial to most RLI operations and it is unquestioned that the RLI’s successes are in no small way directly attributable to the ‘Blue Jobs’. In terms of nomenclature, the combatants of ZANLA and ZIPRA were colloquially referred to as ‘gooks’, ‘terrorists’ (‘ters’ or ‘terrs’ for short) or

CTs (Communist Terrorists/Charlie Tangos) by the Rhodesians and as ‘guerrillas’, ‘freedom fighters’ and ‘insurgents’ by themselves and others— much in the same way as members of the IRA are described—depending on which side of the fence you sit. In the narrative, for the sake of standardization of terms, I have used the term ‘insurgent’, however, where I have quoted an original source or account I have uncompromisingly maintained the integrity of the original text with one exception. I accept full responsibility for any inaccuracies in the text. I cannot, however, apologize for any omissions former members may consider vital. The exploits of the intrepid men of this truly remarkable regiment could literally fill volumes. If, however, further important information comes to light such contributions will be included in any updated editions.

A brief background Origins of Light Infantry Light Infantry originates from what were known as ‘light troops’. These soldiers were trained to be highly mobile and act independently on the battlefield, within the framework of the battle, with their role being to skirmish ahead of the main force to ambush enemy while en route to the battlefield and/or prevent the enemy from properly forming up for battle. Prussia first recruited light troops from its hunters (jägers) and gamekeepers as these men were accustomed to operating independently in the forests, using ground and natural surroundings for concealment and were skilled in marksmanship and observation. The British first witnessed the increasing use of light troops and the particular effectiveness of Jäger groups during the Seven Years’ War of

1756–1763. This irregular form of warfare was too exotic for contemporary British attitudes and Britain was initially content to use German troops rather than raise their own units However, British opinion rapidly changed when they began fighting the French and their Red Indian allies in the rugged wilderness of North America where the British found that rigid adherence to European methods of warfare in that type of country and against that type of enemy simply invited disaster Accordingly, from 1770 onward, each British foot regiment had on complement one company that was organized on a lighter and more mobile scale than the rest. These were known as light companies and, in time, became regiments in their own right, known as light infantry. By necessity, light troops needed to be highly mobile, however, the established method for conveying orders on the battlefield (drum beat) was found to be too cumbersome and was quickly replaced by hunting horns, which were traditionally carried by the German jägers, and which could be used either as a musical instrument or as a gunpowder container. The term bugle originates from the French word bugleret, derived from the Latin buculus, meaning young bull. The ancient European wild ox was called a bugle and it was from this animal that the Germans first obtained their hunting horns. Symbolically, bugle horns had for centuries been associated with hunters and foresters, however, it was the Germans who first introduced the bugle horn badge and jäger green dress into military uniform, one of the earliest regiments, being the Prussian Field Jaeger Corps of 1744. As time went on bugle horns were made from metal with the large copper semi-circular Hanoverian halbmond (half-moon) horn being one of the first adopted for military use. The horn became a symbol for all light infantry and is correctly referred to as a bugle horn. Compiled by Tony Young **************** Zimbabwe, formerly known as Rhodesia, covers an area of some 390,000 square kilometres (about three times the size of England) and is situated in central–southern Africa between the Limpopo and Zambezi rivers. It is a land-locked country, bounded by Zambia to the north, South Africa to the south, Mozambique to the east and northeast and to the west by Botswana. The main geographical feature is the central plateau, known as the highveld—approximately 600 kilometres long and 100 kilometres wide—on

either side of which is the middleveld, bisected by deep river valleys. To the north and south of the highveld/middleveld are the two areas of lowveld, namely the Zambezi valley in the north and the southeastern lowveld that lies between the Limpopo and Save (Sabi) rivers in the south/southeast of the country. The country enjoys a savannah climate, which provides a dry but not oppressive heat (except in the lowveld areas which are blisteringly hot), with sunshine all year round. There are two seasons—a rainy season from December to April and a dry season from May to November with a cold winter in June and July. The population in 1970, the middle period of the history covered in this book, was little over five million. Of this, three quarters were pastoral Mashona. The Mashona people are not strictly a single tribe but are made up of five principal chiShona-speaking clans—the Karanga, Zezura, Manyika, Ndau and Kore-Kore. In the southwest of the country, known as Matabeleland, lived a million Amandebele, more commonly known as the Matabele, a nineteenth-century offshoot of the amaZulu. Both the Mashona and the Matabele were immigrants, having moved into the area at different periods of history, displacing and decimating the indigenous Bushmen. The uneasy relationship between both these migrant groups is today well documented. Historically, the numerically inferior but martially superior Matabele held the Mashona in subjugation until the arrival of the Europeans. Today, the tables are turned—with the end of white rule, the once powerful Matabele are now dominated by a brutal Mashona regime. This includes, post-1980 independence, a series of organized massacres in which upward of 30,000 Matabele civilians were slaughtered. The Europeans, who had governed the country since 1890, numbered 230,000 in 1970. There was also an Indian and Coloured (people of mixed descent) population of about 25,000. In addition there were a few smaller tribal groupings such as the Batonka of the Zambezi valley and the Shangaan of the southeastern lowveld. Many tribespeople lived, as they still do today, in pole and dagga (mud) huts, farming six to eight acres per family unit on a subsistence basis, their economic standard not unlike rural Eastern Europe. (In the hondo—‘the war’—a general term used by both black and white—between the ruling white government and the nationalist insurgents, it was these people, caught

in the middle, who were to bear the brunt of the conflict and its accompanying suffering and trauma.) With African nationalism gaining momentum and Western powers relieving themselves of their colonies as a result of needing to focus their attention on domestic issues following World War II, many African countries gained their independence. Caught between a freak of historical politics, white Rhodesians were forced to withdraw into their laager (a protective barricade), slugging it out politically on what they felt were their terms— perhaps somewhat naively placing their destiny in the hands of their last remaining allies—the South Africans and the Portuguese, both of whom ultimately were to fall by the wayside in one way or another. The Zimbabwean African nationalist parties originally all belonged to the same political union in an unhappy alliance of members of both the Mashona and Matabele peoples. In 1963, the alliance split up and two disparate organizations were formed, ZANU and ZAPU. ZANU (the Zimbabwe African National Union) was predominantly Mashona, and led by Ndabaningi Sithole until his position was usurped by Robert Mugabe. Its military wing was known as ZANLA (Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army). ZANU received its support from China, North Korea et al. ZAPU (the Zimbabwe African People’s Union) was led by Joshua Nkomo and supported largely by the Matabele. Its military wing was known as ZIPRA (Zimbabwe People’s Revolutionary Army). ZAPU was supported by the Soviets and the Eastern Bloc. The South African government had its own political worries and thus its own agenda; the British government had only one objective—to free itself from its now-troublesome colony; ZAPU and ZANU had but one goal—total power; and the intransigent Rhodesians held only one card—their security forces. So by the mid-1960s, the stage was thus set for a protracted and bitter struggle that was to drag on for a decade and a half. It was against this background that the Rhodesian Light Infantry (RLI) was formed. With hindsight, and in lieu of any archival or first-hand knowledge of the matter, ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark, one of the first officers posted to the RLI via No. 1 Training Unit, the embryo of the RLI, offers his perceptions on the strategic reasons for the development of this European (‘white’) battalion of infantry that would become the RLI … … Rumblings of the formation of this infantry battalion began in 1959 at various levels in the corridors of power within the Federation of Rhodesia

and Nyasaland (which consisted of Northern and Southern Rhodesia, now Zambia and Zimbabwe respectively, and Nyasaland, now Malawi), led by Sir Roy Welensky. The question we all asked ourselves was why— remembering that the essence of a national strategy is the survival of that nation and the status quo of its culture: its political, economic and social ethos and institutions. This was the only information that filtered down to the lower ranks, as well as that the defence budget would be increased by a paltry £153,193. This seemed hardly enough to equip, accommodate, train and pay salaries for a unit of 235 men, unless accommodation, transport, weapons and equipment were already available or were to be taken from other units on the current order of battle. The costs of recruiting, accommodating and training a white battalion would have been far greater than the aforementioned figure. Thus the question persisted—what was so serious that it had the Federal Intelligence and Security Bureau (FISB), the politicians, the government economists and the very senior bureaucrats and senior defence officers in such a fray?

Occasional, but not uncommon, black disaffection, African nationalism, and insurgency was reported in newspapers, yet had never before caused waves of panic. However, it was possible that the fragile nature of the Federal Government, coupled with the accelerating African nationalist movement, that the loyalty of the ‘African’ battalions (white-officered ‘black’ battalions), such as the 1st and 2nd battalions of the Kings African Rifles (KAR) in Nyasaland, the Northern Rhodesia Regiment (NRR), or the Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR) in Southern Rhodesia, would come into question when deployed against any potential liberation army in the region. (As it transpired the men of these regiments remained steadfastly loyal.) Robert Mugabe was starting to make his presence and attitudes known to the population of that colony. He had already been put under house arrest, but this was not stopping him spread the word to encourage an insurgency. Kenneth Kaunda was also stirring disaffection in Northern Rhodesia. These separate political, tribalized, and geographic elements of the Federation

were causing some concerns about internal security. An additional influencing factor may have been that the only easily usable force in the two colonies or Southern Rhodesia would have had to come from Southern Rhodesia’s ‘white’ Territorial Force, that is, the two battalions of the Royal Rhodesia Regiment. However, to deploy any element of these for any significant period of time would seriously affect the economy of Southern Rhodesia. This had occurred during the 1959 Nyasaland Emergency. Aggravating this, the Republic of the Congo, supported by the communist and African elements of the United Nations, had gained its messy independence from Belgium; and Western-oriented Katanga, the economic engine of that new nation, was attempting to secede, with the help of international mercenaries, against United Nations opposition and military force. Katanga bordered Northern Rhodesia, and the Federal Government was frightened of a communist-oriented and anti-Western nation on its border, led by the extraordinarily paranoiac and vicious Patrice Lumumba. The British Government, though seemingly supporting the Federation, was caving in to international pressure, and the Federation would soon be on its own. The Federal Government, particularly Welensky, well perceived this looming threat, and most likely convinced his fellow ministers that a core force of rapidly deployable regular ‘white’ troops would be essential, and with it, I assume, began the conception of the RLI. However, irrespective of this conjecture, the reason for the formation of the RLI may have been no more than a belief that if the Federation was to exist with any sense of moral decency within the international arena, then white troops must be seen to be taking some of the load in any task of internal or external security to protect the ‘white’ interests of the nation. This, seems somewhat more virtuous and over-sensitive though. In any case, the KAR and NRR battalions had once been part of the British East Africa Command and were a legacy from that past. So, perhaps, irrespective of the cost, a white battalion had to be raised … References Phillipa Berlyn, This is Rhodesia, College Press, Salisbury, Rhodesia 1969 Ministry of Information, Rhodesia in Brief, Salisbury, Rhodesia 1970 Army of the Federation.

Above and below: The 1959 Nyasaland Emergency.

Above and below: The King’s African Rifles—Trooping of the Colours.

Birth of a battalion In 1960, the Central African Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland found itself approaching a crossroads. Harold Macmillan’s ‘winds of change’ speech sounded the alarm bell for all white central Africans. Britain was ‘closing shop’ in Africa. Her interests were being re-directed ‘towards Europe and away from Empire and, reluctant to have to fight wars of liberation with impatient nationalists, MacMillan appointed Iain MacLeod, Colonial Secretary to liquidate the Empire as quickly as possible.’1 White Rhodesians were already witnessing the tragic and catastrophic results of Belgium’s irresponsible and virtual overnight ditching of her huge colony of the Congo, the repercussions of which persist to this day. Reacting to their electorate’s representations and noting the increasing disturbances being caused by the subversive activities of the nationalists in Nyasaland (Hastings Banda) and Northern Rhodesia (Kenneth Kaunda), the Federal government decided that additional security was required. The Federal GOC, General Long, had four regular African battalions under his command, namely the Northern Rhodesia Regiment, Nyasaland’s two battalions of the King’s African Rifles and Southern Rhodesia’s 1st Battalion, The Rhodesian African Rifles. To counter-balance these, he was ordered to raise a new, regular, all-white battalion to be based in Southern Rhodesia. In addition an armoured car regiment (Ferrets)2 and a paratroop (SAS) squadron were to be formed. General Long appointed Rhodesian-born Lieutenant-Colonel John Salt,3 then commanding 1RAR, to command the new battalion. Recruiting campaigns began locally, in South Africa and in the United Kingdom. As soon as recruits were attested, they were sent to No. 1 Training Unit at Brady Barracks in Bulawayo. Paul Wellburn, an early recruit, recalls: … At the doddering age of twenty, my life was slipping away. ‘Make the Army your career’ the ad said … Sitting next to the swimming pool at KGVI Barracks a few weeks later, as the first batch was made up, we ogled Captain Mick Horne’s daughters and thought, “This is the life.” I vaguely remember names like Davidson, Baxter and Heppenstall, but after a short while, about thirty of us had been assembled, kitted out, TaB’d (inoculated) and loaded onto the Bulawayo train—the dining-car was well used that night. Two smart WO2s, complete with red sashes, met us at the Bulawayo station next morning—how nice.

These two gentlemen (Percy Johnson and Bert Brookes) gently herded us aboard a couple of trucks and conveyed us to Brady Barracks where the proverbial sh*t hit the fan … Major Bill Godwin was commandant at Brady. Together with captains Peter Miller and Peter Nicholas and a handful of NCOs, he drew up a training programme. This consisted of two and a half hours of foot drill every morning conducted on the airstrip some distance away (Brady had been an RAF wartime air station). Afternoons were devoted to lectures. At this stage, and indeed for some five years or so, the unit was equipped with SLRs (SelfLoading Rifles)—a British modification of the Belgian FN. The FN in fact finally became the unit’s standard infantry weapon. It needs to be said here that Brady Barracks appears to have been thoroughly detested by every recruit who signed up to join the as yet unnamed regiment. Accommodation was of a very poor standard. At Brady, everything appeared, in modern parlance, to have been recycled—no two beds were alike. Food was also indifferent and got so bad that one lunchtime everyone refused to eat the meal provided. All this had a demoralizing effect on the young recruits. In an already established unit, the old sweats would have had a steadying effect. However, at Brady, this influence was absent. As a result, there were frequent desertions, facilitated by the fact that the camp was not fully fenced, which enabled any disgruntled recruit simply to walk out after dark. When Salt arrived, Godwin was appointed 2IC and Sergeant-Major Ron Reid-Daly was appointed RSM. The new unit officially came into being as the 1st Battalion The Rhodesian Light Infantry on 1 February 1961. For the next nineteen years (until the laying-up of the colours on 17 October 1980) the battalion was to earn for itself an enviable reputation as one of the world’s foremost anti-terrorist forces. RSM Reid-Daly and his fellow NCOs had their work cut out. They had hundreds of scruffy individuals to transform into soldiers. By the very nature of things, some of them were going to be unsuitable. However, looking them over, the training staff was not discouraged. Somewhere under the layer of civilian clothing and slovenly attitudes were the makings of soldiers. “Nothing wrong with these blokes that a good kick up the jack won’t put right,” would have been Reid-Daly’s private assessment. Wellburn continues: … We were a varied, rough and colourful bunch of skates from Rhodesia and Joeys [Johannesburg], ducktails and Poms from

co*ckneyland and Jocks from Glasgow. Having grown up in Bulawayo, I could gauge the public’s reaction. It was generally one of caution bordering on terror. Mickey Most, a pop star of the time, gave a concert in the City Hall. A No. 1 Training Unit member, who shall remain anonymous, disliked one of his songs and pulled him off the stage by his microphone lead … Though the majority of the recruits were from South Africa, there were significant numbers of men from Rhodesia and Britain. Inevitably, friction would and did occur. Scraps, when they happened, would be sparked off around the washing-up trough outside the troops’ dining room (‘the graze hall’ in RLI parlance) as the men jostled each other when rinsing out their eating utensils. Major differences and pecking orders were sorted out in the normal way—after hours in the barrack room or behind the block. A few more instructors began to arrive from the UK, notably from the Coldstream Guards and the Royal Highland Fusiliers. As the recruits completed their basic training, they were posted to companies A, B, C or D. The senior company was B and D was composed of boy soldiers, the youngest being sixteen and a half years old. However, desertions continued, reaching a peak in April 1961 when 29 individuals went AWOL (absent without leave). The reason for this was to be found in a nearby Bulawayo hotel where agents of President Moise Tshombe’s secessionist Katanga government were openly recruiting mercenaries. What they offered was irresistible to some—£300 per month paid into a Swiss bank account, all on-service costs and expenses together with ample opportunities for looting captured enemy property. What the agents got in return, if an RLI man signed up, was a freshly and fully trained soldier in peak fighting condition. Some recruits, however, deserted simply because conditions were not to their liking or they were homesick.

No. 1 Training Unit Bren gunners on excercise at Brady Barracks, Bulawayo. This photo was used as an early recruitment poster.

A Company Command Post at Solwezi on the Congo border, 1961. At left, Major ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark and his 2IC Dave Parker.

The unit’s Regimental Police were hard-pressed to pursue and locate absconders. At one stage Provost Sergeant Ernie Thornton, ex-British SAS, took his team to Beitbridge, the border post between Rhodesia and South Africa, with the intention of waylaying any deserters intending to cross into South Africa. After some time in the appalling heat, Thornton decided to go for a quick drink, leaving one of his policemen on OP (observation post) duty. When he returned, he was mortified to discover that the policeman had also deserted. Despite these tribulations, a battalion was taking shape. Discipline was strict and the constant emphasis on ‘spit and polish’ was having an effect. The awakening of a sense of pride in their training and confidence in themselves was becoming apparent. Inter-company rivalry materialized and a battalion regimental march was born, though rather by accident than design. Lance-Corporal Mac Martin, an erstwhile member of a famous Scottish regiment, was a skilled piper. When the unit went out on route marches, he would strike up lively marching tunes. When the saints go marching in

quickly became a firm favourite among the men to the extent that when it was not played at one of the unit’s earliest appearances, a retreat ceremony in Bulawayo, the men sent a representative to the RSM. “Sir, the men are flat [upset] that our regimental march was not played as we marched off,” complained the spokesman. Reid-Daly replied tersely to the effect that he was not aware that the unit had a regimental march. “Oh, yes sir!” the representative replied keenly. Then taking his life in his hands he proceeded to name the tune. Taken aback at the man’s effrontery and appalled by the unimaginative choice, Reid-Daly approached Salt who surprised him further with, “I rather like The Saints.” The RSM gave up. It looked as if his battalion was stuck with an American ditty. A further regimental appendage was gained when General Long and Colonel Salt arranged for the battalion to be presented with a regimental mascot in the shape of a cheetah. Why such an unlikely animal was chosen has never been explained. (The cheetahs were never a success. The first pair died mysteriously on 6 October 1963 and were buried with full military honours. Over the next few years their successors went the same way. Although further cheetahs did not materialize for some time, the animal was always kept on the unit’s roll as its official mascot.) An outbreak of foot and mouth disease in Matabeleland occasioned the battalion’s first operational duty. They were to relieve 1RAR, which was manning a cordon around Gwanda. C Company, under Captain John WellsWest was pulled out of the cordon to an alert of possible trouble in Fort Victoria’s black township, where Corporal Mike Curtin had spotted a rifletoting man approaching the township—the cause of the alarm. The weapon turned out to be an air rifle. In June 1961, Second Lieutenant Brian Barrett-Hamilton, with a 13-man section, was flown to Aden on attachment to the British Army, which was responding to Iraq’s threat to take over Kuwait’s oilfields—Britain’s main source of oil. From Aden, the men went to Bahrain where they remained on stand-by for two months. Barrett-Hamilton’s platoon was tasked as infantry support to the British Centurion tanks. Nothing dramatic occurred and the Rhodesians returned home, leaving Iraq to postpone its invasion of Kuwait for another 30 years. In this year the battalion established the first of its famous long marches. Six teams of four men each took part in an attempt on the 80-mile endurance

march from Gwanda to Bulawayo—with the final 20 miles being treated as a race. Only six men completed the event—D Company’s Lance-Corporal Joe Walsh was the winner.

The Congo The problems in the Congo began to escalate. The secessionist Katanga province bordered Northern Rhodesia and troops were needed to man the border in case the troubles spilled over into the Federal territory. The battalion spent July and August rehearsing mobilization procedures, which required kit to be issued and loaded onto vehicles, and trial runs made to the airport and back—over and over. Some men got so blasé about the constant packing and unpacking routine of ‘Stand by’, followed by the deflating ‘Stand down’, they began filling their kitbags with newspaper rather than the heavy standard kit. When the Congo call-out did eventually materialize on 9 September, these careless individuals found themselves spending three months on the border with no kit other than that which they could scrounge from their comrades. The battalion entrained for Salisbury where they boarded Canadairs of the Royal Rhodesian Air Force at New Sarum. From here they were flown to Ndola in Northern Rhodesia. The boy soldiers of Major ‘Mac’ Willar’s D Company had originally been left out of the operation as it was felt that they were still too young to be involved. Willar wasn’t having any of it. He pointed out to the brigadier that his company not only had more marksmen than any other, they had also thrashed the other companies at many events. They were allowed to go. The battalion arrived at Ndola where the men stayed overnight. C Company then moved on to Bancroft, a small mining village off the main road. They parked their vehicles along one of the main streets and were soon being plied with refreshments from the welcoming community. The other companies based up at Chingola, Kitwe and Mufulira, where the men received similar welcomes. The troops, waiting in half-expectation of action, found themselves instead dealing with floods of refugees pouring over the border on a sauve-qui-peut basis, all bearing distressing tales of massacres and near-escapes. They presented a pitiful sight. Most had nothing except the clothes on their backs. Traumatized and shocked, they had lost everything. In their dealings with

these refugees, the troops, understandably, were as gentle as possible as they conducted the refugees to the reception centres. From across the border rumours were rife. One thing that the Rhodesians were sure of was the fact that the United Nations troops would prove both incapable and unwilling to deal with the prevailing chaos. The Rhodesians were totally unimpressed with the sloppy and unsoldierly Swedish troops who represented the United Nations. When the Katangese refused to supply the UN troops with beer, the Swedes sent an urgent order to Northern Rhodesia Breweries in Ndola for 12 tons of canned beer. C Company heard of this and stationed itself at the point on the border where delivery was to take place. The troops duly arrived in their white UN-stencilled Mercedes trucks to collect their order. The Rhodesians decided that it was their duty to ensure that the order was correct before it was handed over. They then proceeded to open, and savour, can after can before the very eyes of the frustrated Swedes who could do no more than glare helplessly. It so happened, however, that when the top layer of cans had been broached, the lower layers were found to contain half-full or even empty cans. It appeared that the Breweries had not anticipated this impromptu ‘quality control’ by the RLI while the product was still on Federal soil. The crestfallen Swedes drove off into the sunset, trucks loaded with rattling half-cans of beer. At Chingola, some weeks later, Frank Turner and his company were guarding a wooden bridge, his men searching all vehicles passing through the checkpoint. A Cadillac suddenly pulled up and a uniformed Katangese jumped out of the front seat and opened the rear door. From the vehicle emerged a man that Turner and everyone else immediately recognized. The man was big-boned and his sad eyes seemed to reflect the entire tragedy of Africa. He smiled at the Rhodesians and said, “There is beer and cigarettes inside. Help yourselves.” The search revealed more than beer and cigarettes. The boot was full of suitcases, all of which were packed tight with cash. After the search, the man shook hands with the RLI officer, got into the car and was driven away. Moise Tshombe had fled Katanga. With the Katanga trouble over, the RLI returned to Brady Barracks. Here the men were utterly dismayed to discover that in their absence their barracks had been plundered. Over 80 percent of the battalion lost all their civilian clothes and belongings. Some cars had also been stolen. How this came about, no one could explain. On top of this, the battalion was being

transferred to its new and permanent home in Salisbury where construction of the barracks at Cranborne was nearing completion. It is true to say that through the rowdiness of a few individuals, a poor reputation had been gained by the battalion in Bulawayo. The townspeople were relieved to witness the battalion’s farewell parade which proceeded down Main Street in shambolic fashion because of the unevenness of the streets. Reid-Daly was less than impressed with the performance and gave the men a severe dressing-down.

A Company notes This is an essay of very personal recollections and observations by a onceupon-a-time commander of A Company, 1st Battalion The Rhodesian Light Infantry—from November 1960 to December 1962—written by Brigadier John ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark, DSM (Retd.) (Rhodesian Army, 1951–1963; Australian Army, 1964–1985): … This somewhat disjointed monograph records my most significant memories, personal observations and comments about my professionally fulfilling and heartening period of command of A Company of the No. 1 Training Group and then 1st Battalion of The Rhodesian Light Infantry from late October 1960 to December 1962. I had the privilege and responsibility of being with and then commanding the company for only 26 months. During my period with the battalion, I knew very little of what was happening in the rest of the battalion, particularly in the second half of 1961 when we were fragmented and deployed very separately on Congo border operations in Northern Rhodesia. They were heady days indeed. These events happened over 44 years ago and, as we all know, memories fade and can become distorted. Now well retired and feeling like a war-horse out to pasture, I find that names of old friends and contemporaries with whom I served in different units and different armies at different times in different places, and whose character and style are firmly imprinted in my mind, are often hard to remember distinctly in their correct organization, event and place. These events also happened long before the RLI was heavily involved in the long ‘Bush War’ of the ’70s, and therefore does not have the tense excitement and constant danger of those days when your enemy was relatively obvious and had to be tackled immediately.

I was posted in October 1960 from an irrelevant staff job doing nugatory work at Army Headquarters in Salisbury to become 2IC of A Company No. 1 Training Unit. The unit (battalion sized and organized) had been formed as the only European or totally ‘white’ unit in the Army of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland (‘the Federation’). Major ‘Dusty’ Miller was A Company’s initial commander. We were in Brady Barracks, the old ‘RAF Kumalo’ base, with the lugubrious, pipe-smoking, Lieutenant-Colonel John Salt as our commanding officer and the combat-experienced Major Bill Godwin as our Battalion 2IC. Majors Dudley Coventry, Tony Coppinger, Mac Willar, and Mike Roach had B, C, D and Headquarters Company, respectively. I was the youngest, the most junior, and the only one without experience in another army. Captain John Thompson was our adjutant, and our regimental sergeant-major (RSM) was the ebullient and pugnacious Warrant Officer Ron Reid-Daly. Our task, with a motley group of warrant officer (WO) and noncommissioned officer (NCO) instructors, was to give basic training to recruits as they came in from the two Rhodesias, South Africa, the United Kingdom and elsewhere. If I remember correctly, our instruction was concentrated on drill, the rifle and bayonet, the Bren light machine gun, grenades, basic fieldcraft, very simple navigation (map-reading and compass), plus dress and barracks discipline. Our instruction was based on the well-tested system developed by the British Army from whence many Rhodesian Army instructors had learnt their infantry instructional skills and techniques. Fortunately, some of our recruits had had some previous military experience with their national armies. The others had to start from scratch. The Training Unit had no time for anything but creating an infantry battalion organization, without any team or tactical training as rifle sections, platoons or companies. In fact, the nearest my A Company had got to any field training was when our platoons or the company went onto the rifle ranges to shoot their rifles and LMGs, and throw grenades. Blending men of different military and national cultures, or with no training at all was interesting and at times, somewhat tricky. It felt as though we ourselves were almost a mercenary group within a very regular army. We of course attracted some bad eggs; some being the usual riff-raff of society and soldiers of adventure and we had rid ourselves of these poorly self-disciplined men as soon as possible. Nevertheless, we had some superb men and found many of our junior NCOs and sergeants from within our recruits. We also had two

attachments from the British Army, the solidly built Captain John Taylor, our Regimental Medical Officer (RMO) and in A Company we had the experienced, morale-building and invaluable Sergeant Evans. Many of our officers had risen through the ranks in the Rhodesian Army, and/or had had previous service in the British Army, including some subalterns and junior captains who had been trained at Sandhurst in the United Kingdom. Only our CO had long ago transferred from the British South Africa Police (BSAP)— Southern Rhodesia’s police force. In essence, our officers, warrant officers and many non-commissioned officers were deeply cultured in a British Army system and organization. Our men were more culturally mixed and about half of my men were South Africans or descended from Afrikaner stock; the rest were a mixture of British expatriates or Rhodesian-born. I had joined the Southern Rhodesian Staff Corps as a private. I was commissioned second lieutenant from the rank of sergeant, into the Staff Corps and posted to The 1st Battalion Rhodesian African Rifles and served with them as a rifle platoon commander in Malaya (1956–1958). We formed the battalion while the Federation was in a relatively peaceful and ‘non-emergency’ situation, though there were already some deep subversive rumblings in the Federation, and we would not have been formed as a ‘white’ battalion if there had not been. I was not naïve about this, having been sent by Sir Humphrey Gibbs (the then Governor of Southern Rhodesia) to the Kutama Mission in the Zwimba Reserve to put a Mr. Robert Mugabe under house arrest; so I had listened to Mugabe’s chillingly realistic prophecies and intentions, ‘from the horse’s mouth’, just before I had been posted to 1 Training Unit. I thought Mugabe was a charismatic, highly intelligent and very dangerous man. I felt that an anaemic ‘house arrest’ would only make him more dangerous. During our basic training at Brady Barracks, we also found the time to develop our rugby XV and compete as the ‘Rhodesian Light Infantry’ in the Matabeleland rugby competition. We had some remarkable games in the province, including some splendid games at Hartsfield in Bulawayo. We probably lost more than we won, but we established a battalion identity and the proud support of the men by doing so. Poignant memories are of playing against my old team, Bulawayo Athletic Club (for which I’d played when 1RAR was at Heany, now Llewellin Barracks, and was training for Malaya). Also, I remember, with apologies, when once playing tight-head flanker, I

pushed too hard and cracked one of the ribs of young Lieutenant Alistair Boyd-Sutherland who was playing as tight-head prop. Our stars were Corporals Young and Meecham, Lieutenants Brian Robinson and Jimmy Smith-Belton, the tough Sergeant van Zyl, Captain Tom Davidson; and our RSM, Ron Reid-Daly. Other stalwarts were Corporals Treloar, Liebenberg and Danie van Eeden, our big lock and enforcer, and youngsters such as Privates Lloyd-Evans, Douglas, Gillespie, Higgins and Lotter. While writing on sport, one of my fondest and most unusual moments is of me sweating it out with Dudley Coventry on the squash court at Brady Barracks. Bill Godwin (my mentor as a subaltern in 1RAR) had leaned over from the gallery railing and told me that I had been promoted to acting major, and to take over A Company from ‘Dusty’ Miller who was posted to take command of the new reconnaissance squadron, the Selous Scouts (not be confused with the later regiment formed by Reid-Daly). While we continued basic training a superb moment was on 1 February 1961 when we became the ‘Rhodesian Light Infantry’; even so, we still had a few of our better-performing recruits being siphoned off to the newly reformed C (Rhodesia) Squadron SAS and the other newly formed Selous Scouts. My first company ‘call-out’ and deployment was to settle a minor internal security problem in Gatooma that only took our swift and positive presence for matters to settle. However, we only really had a barrack-room organization and barrack-room cohesion as far as team-work and group morale was concerned. We had not yet trained to fight. Seven months after we had started our basic training and our recruits were settling into the battalion, and before any effective collective or group tactical training could take place, the Congo erupted. The republic had been given its independence by Belgium through the pressure, auspices and protection of the United Nations (UN). Colonies of any nation had become unpopular in the new world. Katanga Province, a state of the new Republic of the Congo (under Moise Tshombe), with the covert support of the Belgian industrial giant Union Minière, seceded from the republic. Without the economic benefits of the Katangese copper mines, the Congo was an economic basket case. The republic’s pathologically unstable and communist-oriented Prime Minister, Patrice Lumumba, was arrested by the Congo’s President Kasavubu and mysteriously disappeared. The Congo became a shambles. General Mobutu,

previously a medical corps corporal, became the commander of the Congolese National Army (CNA). The Congo became a débâcle with civil war rampant and the Congolese National Army mutinying. As a result, the United Nations had the stabilizing Belgian troops removed and dispatched a polyglot force from nations such as Ethiopia, Eire, India, Nigeria, and Canada (to provide radio communications), to settle the turmoil. The Warsaw Pact together with the Asian and African blocs, not to mention India, who recognized the political, strategic and economic advantages for themselves in the Congo, had helped sway this decision. The Indian Army provided the UN force commander and the commander of the element in the Katanga Province.

Dave Parker and ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark prepare their dinner. Solwezi, Congo border.

The A Company flag as sketched by ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark.

The Federation was not popular in the UN, or among some politicians in the United Kingdom. There was a political hiatus and misunderstanding between the UK and the Federal government, and little trust between the UN and the Federation. With the Congo situation raging out of control on its borders and the production of copper for export under threat, the Federation, against the wishes of the UK and the UN dispatched the Rhodesian Light Infantry and other Federal forces to Northern Rhodesia. They were tasked to protect the border against foreign incursions or crossing of the border by any forces involved in the unrest, including those provided by the UN. Covertly, yet strategically, the Federal government supported the Katangese secession, much to the chagrin of the UN and the UK government. The situation was tense. The task of the Federal armed forces was to prevent any foreign movement and deployment of any force bypassing the Congo through farnorthwest and central Northern Rhodesia. It sounded simple, but was confused by international politics and ‘point-scoring’ by a bevy of nations, slippery politicians and rubbery international relationships. There was also the challenge of handling the many refugees fleeing the dangerous shambles in the Congo Republic. Federal Army tactical doctrine at that time was very loose but based on a developing Internal Security Operations précis that concentrated primarily on aid to the civil power and the principle of ‘minimum force’. There was also some material on ‘local limited war’ that was not yet doctrine. Tactical training was very much the province of the School of infantry at Gwelo and based on the British Army doctrine and pamphlets of the time. We in the RLI had no effective tactical doctrine or collective tactical training for what we were about to face. Nor did we have Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs) for any form of aggressive reaction to a hostile force. We flew by an Air Force Canadair transport aircraft into the large Copperbelt town of Ndola, and collected some clapped-out Public Works Department (PWD) trucks to take my company to the showgrounds at Kitwe. My headquarters and 1 Platoon stayed there and 3 Platoon was deployed to the Kipushi border crossing. 2 Platoon deployed nearby to the Bancroft Mine area. Fortunately our own vehicles from Bulawayo soon replaced our locally obtained and unreliable PWD transport. As my second-in-command, I was fortunate to have Captain David Parker, a crackerjack Sandhurst graduate, whom I had previously got to know well in the Rhodesian African Rifles. He was a good leader and steeped in British

Army conventional warfare doctrine and tactics. The British parachutebattalion-experienced Warrant Officer ‘Crash’ Hannaway was my company sergeant-major (CSM) and I had experienced sergeants in my three platoons, one of whom, Sergeant Lourens, commanded the officer-less 1 Platoon. I had only two officer platoon commanders, both young, but well trained and keen. They were the super-confident and sharp-witted Lieutenant Brian BarrettHamilton from Sandhurst with 2 Platoon; and the phlegmatic, steady and deliberate Lieutenant Bob Davie with 3 Platoon. While in Kitwe in the Copperbelt area, we sorted out immediate problems in vulnerable and sensitive spots such as Tshinsenda, Konkola and Kasumbalesa. As the battalion and others arrived we were then redeployed from the Kitwe area to Solwezi in the centre–north of western Northern Rhodesia in an attempt to cover the over 500-kilometre-long border from Kipushi, adjacent to Katanga Province, to Mwinilunga near the Angola/Congo border junction almost to the easternmost portion of the Caprivi Strip. My company’s task now was to prevent any foreign movement and deployment of any force bypassing the Congo through that area. There were two principal access roads into our area of responsibility—one at Kipushi and the other the road from Kolwezi, a Congo centre of activity, well north of the border. I also had to protect the Mwinilunga approach. I deployed Lieutenant Brian Barrett-Hamilton’s 2 Platoon to Mwinilunga, and Lieutenant Bob Davie’s 3 Platoon remained near Kipushi. The mining township of Kipushi was on the border. Both those platoons also protected any fragile customs posts at those locations. There was in fact no customs post at Mwinilunga, only a lonely district commissioner and his ‘messengers’. The lonely Lunda customs officer at Kipushi could speak the local dialect and English. He could also speak French far better than my appalling schoolboy patois and, at times, became a valuable interpreter. At Solwezi I set up my headquarters and 1 Platoon (Sergeant Lourens in command, but under the wing and the watchful eye of Captain David Parker). They became my ‘centre of gravity’ and my reserve. At Solwezi our reception from the district commissioner and his staff was extremely ‘colonial British’, polite but very cool and not very helpful. I had to remember that Northern Rhodesia was still a Crown protectorate and only ‘federated’ with Southern Rhodesia and the other Crown protectorate, Nyasaland; Southern Rhodesia was a self-governing and semi-independent Crown colony. There was no single or hom*ogenous civil service in the

Federation. It felt as though we were distrusted aliens to the Northern Rhodesians and their British district commissioners. The Federation was not a cohesive nation. There was still the restraining legacy of British colonial power and their condescending manner in Northern Rhodesia and Nyasaland. It seemed to me that, to many of them, Southern Rhodesia was an irritating, unpredictable and overbearing upstart that was interfering with their comfortable and unruffled lives. Nevertheless, the Solwezi district commissioner enabled us to use the nearby abandoned and subsidence-prone mine township and mine offices at the old Kanshansi mine for live-firing, close-quarter battle drills and minor section-level tactics, such as street-clearing, house-to-house combat and ratholing through buildings. For this, Sergeant-Major ‘Crash’ Hannaway’s parachute-battalion experience was invaluable. This was the only tactical and team training that my company had had so far; apart from practising some vehicle counter-road-ambush drills on our road journeys. We continued constant and intensive patrolling and ambushing at section and half-section level at every opportunity. My raw recruits were quickly learning ‘on the job’. We had been given no ‘rules of engagement’ as is done in these days of political correctness, internationally accepted yet hypocritical opprobrium for military weapons and combat, and resulting legal constraints. Common sense, pragmatism and the security and safety of my own troops was my single modus operandi. Foreign aggression from any source would be dealt with quickly, clinically and harshly. We soon found that swift, positive and aggressive action would shrug off any minor trouble that faced us. We had little ‘intelligence’ about what was happening in the Congo. Most of our information came from listening to the news from the civilian radio stations and what we encountered in front of us. I possessed only a locally purchased commercial tourist road map (Atlantic Petroleum Company) to make tactical decisions, plus my battered but invaluable Union Castle Line Year Book and Guide to Southern Africa—1947, which contained some good large-scale maps and area information. We did not even have the city newspapers that were keeping the rest of the Federation informed about what was going on. My wife probably knew more about the Congo trouble than I did. After a quick reconnaissance, I saw that the roads passing through the customs posts on the border-crossing roads at Kipushi and north of Solwezi

to Kolwezi could be easily bypassed by vehicles using a variety of bush tracks, as could be done almost anywhere along the virtually unmarked border. At Mwinilunga, Brian Barrett-Hamilton later told me that there were no tracks that could take anything but a four-wheel-drive, and then with great difficulty, though I did not know this at that time. It was obvious, however, that the area of greatest tactical importance to my task—to prevent any foreign military road moves from within the Congo to deploy forces through Northern Rhodesia from east to west or vice versa—was the single road bridge over the Kafue River, a few kilometres west of Kipushi. To his delight, I said a polite goodbye to the district commissioner at Solwezi and deployed my headquarters, with 1 Platoon (initially David Parker, Corporal Chaney and a radio to maintain liaison with the district commissioner and to control my logistics) to that bridge. I left 2 Platoon with Brian BarrettHamilton in command at Mwinilunga, and the experienced Sergeant Paddy Driver as his platoon sergeant. Driver later left the RLI and joined the US Army. (I met him serving as a master sergeant with a US Infantry battalion in Vietnam in 1966); 3 Platoon was now commanded by Bob Davie at Kipushi, with Daly as his strong platoon sergeant. 1 Platoon was my reserve and, with it and my headquarters, we dug a tactical defensive position at the bridge with concentration on the road approaches from the west and northeast. Bob Davie would be able to warn us of any threat approaching from our northeast. Brain Barrett-Hamilton far to our west, and Solwezi to our near-west could be easily bypassed, so we positioned a half-section standing patrol on the road a kilometre to our west with radio and Verey pistols with signal flares for early warning should any group of foreign vehicles approach along that axis. Each separate group of my company now had sufficient transport to move independently in an emergency and we, at our defensive position at the bridge, could accommodate the complete company if necessary. We also had sufficient transport to reinforce Bob Davie’s 3 Platoon at Kipushi. However, time and distance meant that Brian Barrett-Hamilton’s 2 Platoon was on its own, but I had every confidence that the capable and quick-witted young BarrettHamilton could easily handle the sort of problems that he would encounter at or near Mwinilunga. I found out years later that 3 Platoon had had a very laid-back period at Mwinilunga, having cut a track to a standing patrol north of Mwinilunga near a river that also provided a ‘fine’ swimming pool. No

one from the Congo was silly enough to use that thick-bushed and trackless route through Northern Rhodesia and so 3 Platoon had no further excitement. By regularly driving back in my Land Rover, I retained constant personal contact and liaison with the district commissioner at Solwezi because he had the only telephone from which I could quickly contact the headquarters of 1RLI, which was well to the south. We needed this communication because our WS62 radios sets were not always reliable. We could also refuel our vehicles at Solwezi. Once I started regularly driving back to Solwezi, David Parker returned to the headquarters to keep a fatherly eye on 1 Platoon at the Kafue Bridge. The district commissioner, though still very wary of us, was in friendly contact with Chief Mwata Amvu of the local Lunda tribe whose people were spread over Northern Rhodesia and the Copperbelt, the southern Congo and into eastern Angola. His daughter was married to Moise Tshombe. Therefore we needed the chief’s friendship and support. I met with the chief and his huge, colourful entourage and we agreed that we would not interfere with any of his tribe and he would provide us with as much information as he could about the movements and activity of the UN troops, the mercenary forces and the Congolese National Army (CNA). Driving along that road back to Solwezi to use the phone or effect liaison with the district commissioner about local matters occasionally led to a few minor incidents with wandering CNA, UN Ethiopians, and other brigands, but we brushed them aside. While at Kipushi, we also befriended the very nervous and aged African ‘janitor/watchman’ at the magnificently established and manicured but deserted Belgian Cercle Sportif Club on the other side of the border. He was a useful fund of local information. All the Belgian ‘whites’ had left without taking the contents of a magnificent display of silver trophies and cups for every competitive activity imaginable, from canasta, billiards and bridge, to soccer and tennis; this included some pristine un-engraved trophies. Rather than leave the collection for the UN, or unruly CNA, or other rampaging brigands or the mercenaries, we felt, that as a new battalion, we would need some ‘trophies’ to get our inter-company sports programmes started, so we ‘borrowed’ the lot and gave the janitor a receipt for the loan. I do not know if the battalion was ever asked to return the loan. We soon learned that any nervously chattering, disorganized and white- or light-blue-helmeted group we encountered were likely to be Swedes or Ethiopians. The French mercenaries would remain stock-still and

threateningly quiet in their camouflaged uniforms, as would the Indian Army Gurkhas. We’d go on with our own businesses unless they were seen to be up to mischief; then we would make contact and investigate their purpose. They usually withdrew. Soon after we arrived at the Kafue Bridge position we had a badly wounded soldier who had been shot through a lung by a nearby friend who had been assembling his recently cleaned Bren gun that had fired one round as the last movement of assembly was done. Unfortunately, the loaded magazine had been left on the weapon. We had no trained army medics with us, only some lads who had done first-aid courses as civilians, and our wounded soldier needed emergency surgery by a doctor; we’d learned that a French mercenary doctor was the only one in the area. David Parker and Sergeant Lourens, with panache and purposeful bravery, single-mindedly and swiftly swept aside any interference to their movement until they encountered the French mercenaries near Elizabethville. They explained that they needed a doctor urgently for one of our wounded lads. Sadly he died on the operating table and the nuns provided a superbly crafted wooden coffin for us to take back his body. This loss was felt deeply by 1 Platoon, and the lad cleaning the Bren was devastated, but there was little time for grieving as we quickly had to get on with our tasks. It was my first experience of accidental fratricide; unfortunately it happens too often in war, especially through sheer misfortune or carelessness in combat. Longer training and experience may have prevented this accident but urgency and psychological pressure may also have been culprits. The mercenary doctor was rumoured to be Dr. Paul Grauwin of Dien Bien Phu fame, but this was never confirmed. However, he looked similar to the photos I saw later of Major Dr. Paul Grauwin in Bernard Fall’s book, Hell in a very Small Place. I had followed Parker and Lourens during their wild ride toward Elizabethville but I left them at the hospital and went to yarn with the commander of the mercenary force while the doctor was doing his work. I met him crouching with his small staff in a large culvert under the road near the Catholic chapel-cum-hospital where our wounded soldier and other mercenary and civilian casualties were being treated. There were a few apparently randomly aimed 81mm harassing mortar rounds listlessly crumping around (what the Americans would call ‘Harassing and Interdiction Fires’).

I advised the mercenary commander in my execrable French that we were to prevent any non-Rhodesian forces entering Northern Rhodesia and he should keep his men out. He agreed, as we were not their enemy. He then made the startling mixed adjective/adverb comment that he thought Zheneraal Mobutu was a ‘blacking f*ck bastard’, and that the CNA were ‘sheety foullis’—a rabble—and that they moved and fought as such. I also learned that the UN or Organizational Nationale Unie, ONU, was derisively termed Onyou—a new dirty word in the Congo. By now, we had made contact with the local foreign mercenaries and found that almost an entire battalion étrangère parachutiste (French Foreign Legion parachute battalion) had deserted from the turmoil in Algeria and gone into the employ of the Katangese secessionist government. We also had seen and met some very unprofessional soldiers from within the polyglot UN force. Who were our enemies and who were our friends? Bandits or brigands were obviously unlawful and needed to be subdued. The UN troops distrusted us and were unfriendly, we had to be wary of them; also they were not allowed to be on Rhodesian soil. They had earned a disgraceful reputation for their brutality (mainly Ghurkas) during their assault on the Katangese forces in Elizabethville. The mercenaries appeared to be neutral but could not be trusted. They only had loyalty to their paymasters. However, in some ways they were our friends, but again, as with the UN troops, they were not allowed to be there. In essence, we had to be wary of all, including, unfortunately, the unhelpful native commissioners and their staffs. So far, the Lunda tribe was being friendly. We were operating in a very ‘grey’ and fluid area and had little guidance from our military superiors who were probably in as big a quandary as we were. All I could do as a commander was attempt to achieve my mission and to ensure the safety and security of my men. Common sense was paramount. In most encounters with UN or other troops there would be a tense ‘stand-off’ until we established the situation, which in itself almost gave the initiative to the others. In fact, we never knew how close we had got, politically and tactically, to combat with the United Nations’ forces. It was very close according to Sir Roy Welensky, and conflict with the UN would have been without the covert or overt support of our ‘mother country’ and, once again, the perfidious Albion.4 With ‘local’ ground rules now messily established, we carefully but intensely patrolled by day and ambushed by night in the Kipushi region, and I

presumed Barrett-Hamilton was doing the same in the Mwinilunga area. We made friendly contact with the locals in the Lunda kraal to the west of our Kafue Bridge position and base. They had already received instructions from their chief to help us. We advised them through their headman, in an appalling mixture of Chinyanja, Fanagalo, English and sign that they were not to move out of their kraal at night. Our patrols made some contact with what they believed were UN patrols (some with light-blue helmets) and perhaps CNA rampaging mutineer groups or other bandits in our area. Some warning shots were fired which caused the opposition to disperse rapidly and disappear. Therefore we were now well aware that some ‘hostiles’ were coming over the border to see what was on offer. We offered them little happiness or friendship, and we patrolled even more intensely. Perhaps some were ‘tsotsi-type’ locals and out-of-work mine staff from the now-idle copper mines who were looting and taking advantage of the shambles and lack of law and order in the Congo. We also found that many bandits had somehow obtained brand-new self-loading Fabrique Nationale 7.62mm rifles and ammunition, probably from the looted Kamina base (the once-Belgian NATO reserve weapons armoury and ammunition dumps) just north across the border from Solwezi. I was told by a nurse at the Solwezi dispensary that one unfortunate had injured himself by firing the rifle, apparently before removing the thick grease from the barrel. Therefore, all strangers were now proved to be very dangerous and were to be treated with suspicion and caution. On one occasion, two UN Panhard armoured cars and two trucks, apparently ‘lost’, came blithely barging down the road toward our bridge. CSM Hannaway and I, the only trained 3.5-inch rocket-launcher crew in the company, scared them away with a single ‘shot across the bows’ as it were, of the leading Panhard. After giving us a short ineffective spray of light machine gun fire, the Panhards and the trucks reversed madly into trees and disappeared. They did not come back. They were probably some disoriented Swedes who had bypassed the border custom post, found a bush side-track and driven blissfully down it across the border. UN vehicles never again approached us.

1RLI Signals Platoon. Brady Barracks 1961.

Early days—Classical War training.

RLI private soldiers. Trevor Kirrane is crouched third from left.

A Royal Rhodesian Air Force Dakota DC-3 uplifts Belgian refugees from an airstrip in the Katanga Province of the Congo.

Hotchkiss-Brandt 60mm light mortar.

M1 81mm medium mortar.

LMG—Bren gun.

Down the road from Kipushi, to our northeast, came a constant but erratic flow of cars containing frightened and weary Belgian refugees from Elizabethville. We checked the occupants, the cars’ interiors and boots for weapons and let them move on. David Parker and Sergeant Lourens sympathetically organized a ‘soup kitchen’ for the hungry. Many cars and light trucks, including new Mercedes, Renaults and Citroëns, ran out of fuel

and were left abandoned. Others had been ambushed by various unidentified unlawful groups, the occupants slaughtered and the cars often burnt. This occurred especially along the road from Kipushi to Elizabethville, on which we had to move to get decent medical assistance from the mercenary forces or the nuns at the church. While on a patrol to the south of the base on the banks of the Kafue River, David Parker and Sergeant Lourens also found the time to shoot a fine hartebeest and other smaller game. These ‘extra rations’ made for some delicious meals for us and with some of the locally obtained (and paid for) mealies (corn), went into the pots at our soup kitchens. Our only recreation came from listening to the radio trying to get current information and, if I recall correctly on Sunday evenings, listening with poor reception, to the ‘hit parade’ hosted by David Davies, from Radio Lourenço Marques in Portuguese East Africa (Mozambique). On one occasion, Corporal Greipel agitatedly came to our headquarters tent after a large group of Mercedes cars had been stopped. Greipel said, “Yurrah, sir! Jy moet take a kyk at this.” There were two or three cars with their boots and odd suitcases stuffed with thousands of bundled Swiss franc notes. It was a small convoy led by a Monsieur Simba, the Katangese foreign minister, and his family, plus entourage. He was, we were told, moving south to Lusaka to negotiate with agents of the Federal government. We told him it was now safe to travel south, and relieved them of a large number of weapons, including some brand-new 9mm Browning pistols and two superb, unused 7.62mm Belgian Fabrique Nationale (FN) fibre-glass-stocked, selfloading rifles (SLRs), with much 7.62mm and 9mm parabellum ammunition. We added these to the pile in our headquarters, but I kept one FN SLR for my own use until after we left the area, when I handed it over with all the other confiscated weapons to the BSAP in Bulawayo. On an evening not long after the Simba incident, a dusty Mercedes, with its radiator grill splattered with expired guinea fowl, sped up to our checkpoint from the west and braked rudely in a cloud of dust. As it was going toward Kipushi and the Congo, it was interesting. Driving the car was a man with an Afrikaans or a Dutch surname and a ‘lah-de-dah’ Etonian accent. Hugh van Oppen was his name and he told us he was on a special mission for the Federal government. As he had a diplomatic passport, we queried no further, gave him a mug of tea and some hot stew while my men scraped off the many dead guinea fowl for better use later. He then sped off in another spray of

dust. He was in a hurry. I do not think he had expected us to be there, because when our sentries temporarily relieved him of his weapon, he was very reluctant to let it go. He also had two loaded and co*cked 9mm pistols and some tear-gas canisters on the floor of his vehicle. I thought he was a pretty bold and brave character, but we never saw or heard of him again. Our patrols were making occasional light contact with UN and some unidentified armed groups. Our base was probed, whether by intent or accident we will never know. We had nights when shots, primary and detonating mortar rounds and flares could be heard and seen constantly from north of Kipushi and perhaps Elizabethville, sometimes closer. I could see and feel that our men, ‘green’ soldiers mostly, were getting a little twitchy. Once there was a mild flap, and a few wild harmless shots, when a returning fighting patrol led by an Australian, the experienced Corporal Crampton who I believe had fought as an infantryman against the Chinese in Korea, had forgotten the password. A few pithy swear words later and all could stand down again. At dusk on the same night, a small group of people suspiciously approached from the west (as we were oriented east, it seemed from almost behind us). Lights had been seen and, as I did not expect the average kraal dweller to be out that late using torches, I was even more suspicious. We stood to. I had not had much chance for a cohesive all-round defence because we were patrolling with three half-section fighting patrols out, and the rest of the platoon spread thinly throughout the company-sized defensive position west of the bridge, mainly as double-sentries, and a third of the platoon resting, if possible. It was not possible now, and I had to see if we could disperse the group without too much fuss. After his pleading to do so and against my wishes, I had allowed David Parker to take out an ambush patrol. So, leaving the cool and capable Sergeant Lourens in command of the base, and, perhaps somewhat recklessly, I took out a ‘recce’ patrol of three bold men and cautiously crept and crawled toward where we had been told the group had paused. We got close enough to smell them and could hear whispering, which seemed to be in a Bantu language, so I assumed they were probably not UN troops but were probably CNA mutineers or brigands who had been causing problems with the local Lunda kraal dwellers. The three of us knew exactly where they were and as it was obvious they hadn’t seen or smelt us, I challenged them quietly in Chinyanja, French and English. They fired a shot so the three of us fired in their general direction, with me using

my newly acquired and only once-tested FN SLR. We heard them jabbering incoherently as they scampered off. We crept forward and found no bodies, but one had dropped his rifle and we could feel and smell some warm blood on the rifle and on the ground. It was another new FN SLR and it joined our growing collection. This action quickly raised the spirits of our men. During quiet periods our company signallers listened to much gibberish on nearby UN radio frequencies and they found that the UN’s Canadian signallers were often using, between themselves, the same NATO Slidex cards that we had. The information that we sometimes gleaned from this was seldom useful at our level because we did not have the same maps as theirs. However, it was fun to do, because though they conversed in rapid Canadian French, the Slidex cards were in English.

RLI 1st XV rugby team, 1961. Standing (left to right): Pte. Douglas, T.; Pte. Lloyd-Evans, L.; WOI (RSM) Reid-Daly, R.; L/Cpl. Meecham, R.; L/Cpl. Higgins, M.; Capt. T. M. Davidson; L/Cpl. BoydSutherland, A.; Pte. Lotter, P.; Cpl. Liebenberg, C. Seated (left to right): Cpl. Treloar, G.; L/Cpl. Young P.; Col. J. S. Salt (Area Commander Matabeleland); Major J. Essex-Clark (Captain); Lt-Col. W. Godwin (Acting CO); Pte. van Eeden, D.;

Sgt. van Zyl, B. Seated in front (left to right): Pte. Gillispie, I.; Cpl. Robinson, B.

The RLI rugby team (hooped jerseys) in action at Hartsfield, Bulawayo, 1961.

We also found that the short-strip Kipushi airfield lay astride the border. We controlled most of it by day, but at night it was often used by the mercenaries flying a very quiet Dornier STOL aircraft, which seemed to look somewhat like a larger version of a de Havilland Twin Otter. It would bring in ammunition and weapons and the odd person for the Katangese forces, and evacuate mercenary casualties, to where I don’t know, probably by some special clandestine arrangement into an airfield near a hospital within Federal territory. Although we reported the clandestine activity at the airfield we were told not to interfere, so we did not. RRAF Percival Provost aircraft also used the strip by day to bring us urgent written messages and desperately

needed batteries or lightweight equipment so, in a way, we shared the strip without fuss. Also in the Kipushi area, and in most cases after the event, some of the young men of A Company witnessed some unsavoury and disgusting incidents of savagery by the CNA or local brigands. These incidents they will probably never forgive or, unfortunately, ever forget. On one occasion, when checking activity in Kipushi, the caretaker at Cercle Sportif mentioned to me that there had been killing of the nuns (les soeurs) at the dispensary across the road. We investigated only to find that the nuns and a civilian male assistant had been cut up and strung up naked, and the medical stores ransacked. The lads with me were shocked and speechless, as was I, except for a few pithy oaths. We got the help of nearby locals to bury them with the assistance of the dispensary’s gardening tools. The assassins, whoever they were, had also shot the dogs and thrown them in the nearby filthy and littered creek in which lurked some well-fed crocodiles. The town dogs seemed not to be hungry either. The flies in the area were intense while we were doing the work. During our long stay at the Kafue Bridge, our CO, John Salt, visited us once and with him was Major-General Bob Long, the Commander of Rhodesian Forces. This visit is memorable for one magic moment. Both Salt and Long had been astonished to find us in a well-knit but light-on-for-men, defensive position. I don’t know what they had expected to find, but we were obviously very differently deployed and secured to any other element of the battalion that they had visited. Bob Long wanted to inspect the position, and was delighted that he could give it a thorough looking-over, checking on fields of fire, home-made obstacles of thorn bush, and even the sentries at the water point got a chat from him. Of course, as do all generals when chatting to their men, he asked each man, “Where do you come from, lad?” When we reached Corporal Mulder, an excellent soldier and a dyed-in-the-wool Afrikaner, sitting behind his loaded Bren in his trench under his overhead cover, the general crouched down to see Mulder and popped the standard question to which Mulder promptly replied, “Here, sir!” It took a few moments of tangled misunderstanding and translated sentences to determine that Corporal Mulder hailed from, if I recall correctly, somewhere near Pietersburg in the Northern Transvaal (now Limpopo Province). Whenever and wherever I met General Long after that, he would always refer to that

moment with much glee and satisfaction. “Aaahh … Essex-Clark,” he would say, “It’s Mulder-from-here, sir!” Another strange incident while we were at the bridge was when I suddenly saw a pair of black sharp-toed ‘spivvy’ shoes, dark short socks and shorts outside my shelter cover as I was trying to get some sleep in the back of my Land Rover one afternoon. They belonged to a smart Belgian and he wanted to speak with me, so he had been warily escorted to my tent by my driver, Corporal van Eeden. What he wanted was extraordinary. He wanted to employ my whole company for Union Minière to fight for Katanga as mercenaries. He was offering huge sums of money for us to do so. He was told abruptly and forcefully that we were not interested and that he would be immediately escorted back to Kipushi without any further contact with my men. These have been the stories from a single company of the RLI. I had no idea what the rest of the battalion, or even what 2 Platoon at Mwinilunga was doing; primarily because we did not have a reliable battalion radio net— radio types and distances often precluded this. Also, time and space meant that we could have assisted no other element of the battalion nor they us. Then it was over and we returned to Brady Barracks. When I looked at my younger men as we were returning, I felt (as I wrote in my biography5): ‘I was shocked by the change in my men. My puppy-fat, anxious and chattering young boys had become a team of confident teak-hard men, eagle-eyed, silent and calm. The change from naïve and excitable youth to lean and knowing warrior was sad.’ Their speech was now constantly laced with profanities which took much time to abate. Thus it was, and will ever be so with young soldiers. We arrived back at Brady Barracks and normal life to find we now had a superb swinging regimental quick march, The Saints go marching in, and a proposed mascot, a cheetah. We spent much time tidying up the left-overs from our Northern Rhodesia–Congo border deployment in stores accounting, courts martial and removing the less suitable soldiers from the battalion. We also readied ourselves for the move to our new barracks at Cranborne in Salisbury. 1961 ended with a series of courts martial at Brady Barracks, following our deployment to Northern Rhodesia along the Congo border. There had been clever soliciting in the pubs in Bulawayo and advertising in the Rhodesian newspapers for mercenaries to earn ‘quick money’ by assisting the Katanga secession. Some of our soldiers had been sucked in but

had returned. I was asked by some of my A Company soldiers to defend those who had illegally disappeared to make that ‘quick money’ and had been charged with desertion. Those charged had returned, disappointed and feeling guilty. It was then my duty to defend them to the best of my ability. Initially, I thought their chances of being ‘not guilty’ were nil, but after some research, I realized that to prove desertion, the prosecution had to prove their intent to leave the Army permanently. There was of course no evidence to prove this. They were greedy, yes; ill-disciplined, yes; absent without leave, yes; but as they had returned of their own free will and because they were standing there in the court, I challenged that they had no case to answer. That no alternative charge of ‘absence without leave’ had been added was extraordinary. Therefore, irrespective of my proving mitigating circ*mstances such as their need for quick funds, to satisfy such as one who had caused the pregnancy of both his girlfriend and her mother (and I had brought those two ladies into the courtroom as witnesses, not to character but only to circ*mstance), the court, guided by the delightful Major Lindsay Seymour, the senior legal officer in the Army, agreed that there was no case to answer and their charges were dismissed.

Ferret armoured cars on manoeuvres.

Fortunately, I had been studying the Manual of Military Law very thoroughly in preparation for my promotion to major and staff college entrance examinations, and found legal and technical loopholes in many of the charges. Nevertheless, I soon also found that I was not popular with the hierarchy for doing so. However, in a few of the later cases I defended, the men were as ‘guilty as sin’ and punished accordingly, without any regret from me, because I had defended them to the best of my professional ability. In doing so we had also rid ourselves of some undesirables. I returned to Bulawayo with the nauseous effects of yellow jaundice that laid me miserably low during my Christmas break in Salisbury. Our British Army-attached Regimental Medical Officer, Captain John Taylor, soothed me through this. While laid up with this malaise I missed the one battalion social event that I would dearly loved to have attended—an officers’ mess diningin-night in our brand-new mess at which Sir Roy Welensky (the Prime Minister of the Federation) made a presentation of silver to the officers. If I recall correctly, the presentation was a silver port-barrel and some minor items. I had admired Sir Roy and his achievements under enormous international and internal pressure, and would have enjoyed meeting him.

During the last moments of 1961, John Salt told me, with some astonishment, that I had passed my ‘promotion to major and staff college entrance’ exams well (my marks surprised even me). I was promoted to substantive rank and selected to attend the British Staff College at Camberley in 1963. This was a satisfying moment in my career, particularly as my confidential report from John Salt had not recommended that I do so. An interesting point—when the RLI was first formed from 1 Training Unit many of us were still wearing RNSC, RAR or other cap badges, and regimental accoutrements (such as lanyards, garter flashes, etc.). The first CO, John Salt, and the first 2IC, Bill Godwin, never transferred from their parent unit (RAR) to the RLI. I was one of the few officers who formally changed, much to the annoyance and consternation of others who kept their allegiance to their parent units. I wrote and replied to my detractors by telling them that the RLI was a new unit, needing identification, I was commanding 120 men wearing the RLI badge and therefore, for reasons of leadership and loyalty to my men, I would become one of them in spirit, attitude and uniform. Nevertheless, even some of those who did not change their allegiance to their parent unit wore the RLI badge and accoutrements. I believe they did so quite falsely, deceptively, and dishonestly. But there you go. I was considered almost a traitor! To me, the men I was serving and commanding came first. Incidentally I was one of the first to wear an RLI uniform (rifle-green jacket and trousers) with accoutrements (black Sam Browne belt with silver buckle and scabbard hooks, RLI lanyard, the RLI green and silver stable belt with field dress) in the UK when I attended the Staff College at Camberley. The beret came later. However for our dress uniform (including our diggers) we wore the uncomfortable rifle-green peaked caps. To most of the others in the Rhodesian Army we youngsters without any World War II experience, African language skills, or BSAP service, were upstarts and unwanted outsiders! All in all, I felt more at home in the RLI than I ever did in the SRSC, RNSC or RAR. In the RLI we were a family. Postscript: A tale about Brian Barrett-Hamilton. When I went into his room at the offcers’ mess at Cranborne to discuss a training matter, there was a large framed photo of a very military gentleman in his room alcove. I asked Brian if it was his father. “No, sir,” he replied, “That is Jesus Christ!” Somewhat astonished I said, “What do you mean?”

“That, sir, is Warrant Officer J. C. Lord, Academy Sergeant-Major at Sandhurst. He was nicknamed ‘Jesus Christ’ for his initials,” he replied. “When I leave this room I look at that picture and I don’t allow myself to put a foot wrong!” It gave me a good laugh at the time but a year later, after I had listened to J. C. Lord address the Staff College at Camberley, the first WO or NCO to ever do so, I could understand. The German student friend sitting next to me muttered, “Aahh! Now, Dikka, at last, I unterstant vy zer Breetish Army is so koot!” … In a footnote to Digger’s postscipt concerning the legendary Sandhurst RSM there is the well-told tale that on one occasion, when welcoming a platoon of new officer cadets, one of whom was Prince Hussein of Jordan, he said, memorably, “You will address me as ‘sir’. I will address you as ‘sir’. The only difference being that you mean it.”

1

J. R. T. Wood ‘The Rhodesian issue in historical perspective’ as quoted in Challenge p361, Ashanti 1989 2 The original Selous Scout Regiment. Not to be confused with the later famous infantry regiment of the same name 3 Salt died in September 1991, aged 77, as a result of injuries sustained in a hippo attack on his craft when canoeing on the Zambezi. In tribute a friend (and later CO of 1RAR), Brigadier David Heppenstall wrote: ‘While his death … was tragic, I cannot help feeling that it was the sort of way that any old Rhodesian would like to go.’ Lion & Tusk (magazine of the Rhodesian Army Association) Vol. 3, No. 2, November 1991 4 Sir Roy Welensky, 4000 Days—The Life and Death of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland p212, Collins, London 1964 5 John Essex-Clark, Maverick Soldier—An Infantryman’s Story p58, Melbourne University Press, 1991

References Geoffrey Bond, The Incredibles, Sarum Imprint, Salisbury, Rhodesia 1977 Paul Wellburn’s recollections are from Lion & Tusk Vol. 4, No. 2, November 1992

Cranborne barracks—the new home The battalion transferred to Salisbury, but not into the new barracks as anticipated. Building delays meant that the men had to move into tented accommodation at Inkomo Garrison, 50 kilometres from the capital. Here the only ablutions were cold showers—this in a Rhodesian winter. But the troops proved Spartan. While waiting to move to Cranborne, they were kept busy, regular training alternating with hours spent rehearsing the silent drill which was to prove the highlight of the battalion’s first public appearance at the Salisbury Agricultural Show. Despite a less than favourable reputation earned from the Salisbury public, this first appearance was an unqualified success. The parade itself was ‘based on a system of counts and double drum beats … the men marched and counter-marched in quick time and double quick time.’1 It was a fine debut. The long-awaited move into the new Cranborne barracks brought sheer luxury for the men who, since attestation, had endured the discomforts of Brady, the hardships of the Congo border and the tented life at Inkomo. At the same time came the announcement that Her Majesty the Queen had approved the regiment’s badge as created by the College of Heralds: ‘The badge bears the name of the regiment in black lettering on a gold scroll supporting a traditional Light Infantry horn in ivory; in the centre, on a green mound, stands the Rhodesian lion in gold, with an ivory tusk in its right paw. The whole is surmounted by a Royal crown [later discarded] with tassels.’2 Dave Parkin states that the crown was replaced by a ribbon after Rhodesia was declared a republic in 1970 and not in 1965 or 1972 as several publications erroneously state. The Queen issued an instruction that no royal symbols were to be used by the Rhodesians, hence the removal of the crown. For its ceremonial dress, (‘Number Ones’) the regiment adopted tartan green with peaked caps. When the unit was later designated a commando regiment, the commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel G. P. Walls introduced the tartan green beret which replaced the peaked caps and which distinguished the regiment from all others. At a dining-in night, at which the Federal Prime Minister, Sir Roy Welensky, was the guest-speaker, a silver beer barrel was presented to the officers’ mess—a gift from Castle Breweries. His presentation speech had a sombre conclusion: “I am proud of this battalion and of the men in it. You have a part to play in maintaining the standards of civilization and law and

order as we understand it in this part of the world and I believe you will perform competently all the tasks you may be called upon to undertake.” Salt replied, “We are not a battalion of saints. If we were, it would be useless. But if we are given a job to do we will do it well.”3 In 1962, Corporal Jack Barrett became the custodian of the corporals’ canteen with which his name would be forever linked. Two other individuals were also becoming regimental characters—the African batmen Lovemore and Langton. There is not an RLI member alive today who does not recall these two. When, on 25 May 1965, I arrived at 2 Commando to begin my recruits’ course I was directed to the squad barrack room by Lovemore. Geoffrey Bond writes: ‘Lovemore must go on record as the only batman who, when the recruits passed out to join one or other of the companies, would fall them, much as a seasoned NCO would, and brief them on details of how to treat their own future batmen with particular references to pay and correct form of address. These two terrible twins, it is said, thought like troopers, spoke like troopers and certainly swore like them.’ The two accompanied the unit on border control ops and, on one memorable occasion, both were standing on the Kanyemba jetty on the Zambezi looking across the water to Zambia from whence emanated, loudly, clearly and unceasingly from loudspeakers, Kenneth Kaunda’s repetitive ‘One Zambia, One Nation’, to which both batmen retaliated with a shout of “One Zambia, One f*ck-up.”4 In October, the battalion was flown to Kariba to deal with an outbreak of rioting in which one African demonstrator had been shot dead. Hundreds of Africans went on strike and there was an unsuccessful petrol-bomb attack on a Power Board storeroom. The battalion based up on Camp Hill and found little to do as their mere arrival had ensured that law and order was restored. Consequently, the troops busied themselves by getting involved in Operation Noah. This animal-rescue exercise was to gain international attention as men set about saving animals from the rising waters of the Zambezi being dammed at Kariba Gorge. There was drama at Camp Hill when Second Lieutenant Alistair BoydSutherland and his men were trying to secure a heavily laden trailer which had been badly parked on the hilltop. During the operation, the vehicle began to move and hit a rock. As it whipped back, it knocked Boyd-Sutherland off his feet. Out of control, it then rolled downhill, finally to collide with the rear of a large truck, causing considerable damage. Much to the relief of the onlookers, nothing more happened—the trailer was full of live ammunition.

The colours approved Early in 1963, a letter had gone out from Army Headquarters concerning the provision of regimental colours for the RLI. The College of Heralds produced the final design which was approved by the sovereign. The Queen’s colour was of standard Union flag design with the regiment’s name in a circle in the centre surmounted by a crown. The regimental colour was based on a green background with the regimental badge in the centre surrounded by a wreath of flame lilies, which is unique among all regiments that have served the British monarch, as the wreath normally comprises roses and thistles. The colours were finally approved on 15 July 1963 and the original drawings by the College of Arms bearing Her Majesty’s signature were hung in the office of the commanding officer. Dave Parkin again points out that, after Rhodesia was declared a republic on 2 March 1970 and due to the Crown’s response, the Queen’s colour was not carried on any parade except in 1980. Only the regimental colour was paraded.

The break-up of Federation—unrest begins Countering this positive development was the bad news that the Central African Federation was to be dismembered at the end of the year. Members of the Federal Army could elect to join the Southern Rhodesian Army or choose a posting to Northern Rhodesia. They could also opt for a ‘golden handshake’ of a few hundred pounds and leave. This latter arrangement was particularly well received.

Chief of the Imperial General Staff, General Sir Richard Hull GCB, DSO, ADC, visits Cranborne Barracks, May 1962.

Sir Richard, flanked by the GOC Federal forces, Major-General R. E. B. Long, is greeted by Colonel John Salt, CO 1RLI during his visit.

Cheetah cubs—introduced as the battalion mascot in 1962.

Prior to this, however, the battalion participated in Operation Zephyr which was designed to counter the intimidation of the indigenous population by the political agitators and thugs of ZANU and ZAPU. Zephyr and the minor operations that succeeded it proved uneventful since the mere presence of troops proved to be a sufficient deterrent to the troublemakers. With the approach of the Federal dissolution, men began leaving at an alarming rate. The paymaster, Lieutenant Paddy Leen, paid off over two hundred men during the final two days of 1963, and when he went over to the mess on the final day, he found only a handful of old companions. It was the end of an era and despite some despondency and gloom, everyone recognized it as such. In the first week of 1964, the new CO, Lieutenant-Colonel R. A. Edwards summoned what was left of the battalion to hear his address in the main dining hall. About 150 officers, NCOs and men attended. From this core, the battalion was to be re-built. In March, 85 officers and men paraded at the Rand Easter Show in Johannesburg. In the spirit of the occasion the men drilled dressed up as toy soldiers. They were so successful that the CO later received a letter from a young lady spectator, which said: ‘Kindly despatch one only battalion of toy

soldiers as displayed at the Rand Easter Show held at Milner Park, Johannesburg from 17 to 30 March 1964, to the above address. Payment will be made on receipt of goods.’5 Later in the year, the battalion carried out a conventional war exercise in the Hunyani River area. Part of the exercise involved a water-borne attack across the river by two assault boats, each with a 20-man capacity. As one of the boats approached smoothly, Captain Peter ‘Bomber’ Daines, 2IC of C Company, who had earlier wadded a piece of 808 primer with a short fuse, decided to strike. Timing his action until he could actually hear the approaching oarsmen merrily singing Cruising down the river, he tossed the lump of explosive into the water. In his own words: … The fuse was burning well so bubbles were rising. The boat came closer and closer and I shouted a warning but no one took any notice. A couple of seconds later the 808 went off. The bows of the boat lifted into the air and a young officer somersaulted overboard—must have been one of the Desfountain boys from the look of him. The boat foundered rapidly with a gaping hole in the bottom and before they realized what had happened, some 20 men with rifles and packs were spewed into the river. One hand came, Arthurian fashion, out of the water, holding a stunned bream (there was fish for supper that night) …6 While the men of the RLI were enjoying their peace-time soldiering, security-wise, the situation in Rhodesia, was about to change. In present-day Zimbabwe, 28 April is celebrated as Chimurenga Day, the official start of the liberation war (chimurenga: war of liberation in Shona). On this day in 1966, near the Golden Kopje Mine, Rhodesian security forces eliminated a ZANU insurgent gang, code-named Armageddon, after an unsuccessful attempt to blow up an electricity pylon near the Makuti–Chirundu road. In actual fact ZANU’s first act of terrorism occurred on 4 July 1964, when four members of a five-man ZANU infiltration group known as the Crocodile Gang, ambushed and murdered a farmer, Petrus Oberholzer, at a roadblock on the Umtali–Melsetter road near Skyline Junction. Three members of the gang, James Dhlamini, Victor Mlambo and Amos, were subsequently caught, arrested, tried and convicted. (Dhlamini and Mlambo were both hanged. Amos got ten years. The group leader, known as John, and Master Tresha escaped. Tresha was however captured a year later.) It would be true to say that this gang launched the Chimurenga war in Rhodesia. As a result of this atrocity, ZANU was officially banned the following month

In August 1964, the RLI participated in Operation Valhalla. Here they worked closely with the Rhodesian African Rifles and various Territorial Army units manning a massive cordon around Salisbury’s African townships. The aim was to prevent anyone leaving the townships while the police sent in squads to arrest known political agitators who were intimidating the inhabitants. At Highfields Township, B Company’s unofficial mascot, a small mongrel dog named Banda (out of respect for the president of Malawi) had all the action, distinguishing himself by pursuing and arresting an African woman who tried to escape. (Banda eventually died from testse fly bites, having spent several happy years with B Company.) Two months later in October the unit, again in conjunction with the RAR, was on Operation Phoenix and tasked with protecting the families of the African chiefs who were attending the Indaba7 at Domboshawa, just outside Salisbury. Later in the month Lieutenant-Colonel G. P. Walls took over as commanding officer with Major Jack Caine as 2IC. Things at Cranborne had also progressed somewhat. There was now a canteen run by the redoubtable and efficient Miss Horodyzcz who made sure that everyone (including the CO) paid their bills on time. The troopies were in awe of her and referred to her as Miss Horseradish. Joyce Hughes ran an amenities shop which sold everything from clothing to watches and Mr. Dicker ran the butchery. For the soldiers themselves, there was a system of weekly pay. Friday was payday—each trooper got £4 with the balance being paid at month-end. In essence this was beer money. A Rixi taxi fare into town cost two shillings and sixpence, the price of a mixed grill was four shillings, a packet of twenty Peter Stuyvesant cigarettes was a shilling and admission to the ‘flicks’ (matinée) was the same as the taxi fare—two shillings and sixpence. The cost of living was cheap and so was the beer in the troops’ canteen—one shilling for Lion or Castle lager (Lion, being slightly sweeter, was the more popular for the younger troopers though this preference changed with time). Despite all this, troopers were flat-broke by Monday morning and would besiege the pay office for subs.

A Company notes

John ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark continues: … 1962 started with sorting ourselves out in our newly constructed and superbly designed Cranborne Barracks in Salisbury. Bill Godwin was posted away and the combat-experienced Major Reg Edwards, DSO, MC, ex-South African Army, replaced him. Lieutenant Harry Harvey joined us in A Company and took over command of 1 Platoon. I transferred from the Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR), as my ‘parent’ regiment, to the RLI because I was serving with and leading those men and wanted to wear the same badge that they wore. Up until then, I had been wearing the silver shield with crossed assegai and knobkerrie of the RAR.

The Rhodesian Light Infantry drill on the parade ground at the new Cranborne Barracks, Salisbury, 1962.

Settled in our new barracks our battalion now became more cohesive as a single identity. We paraded as a battalion in the Queen’s massive Birthday parade on the Harare sportsground, and provided one company, mine, for the opening of Federal Parliament. But the greatest advantage was being able to use the well-established Inkomo Training Area and other nearby bush locations for company and platoon tactical training. The men of the battalion got to know one another and our sporting teams could develop. Unfortunately, we were requested by Major Vince Bratton, the President of the ‘Forces’ Rugby Club to join them, rather than have our own, as we had had in Bulawayo. We agreed, but looking back, I think that was the wrong decision. Our cheetah arrived and was housed mostly in a big and well-fenced ammunition enclosure. He was imaginatively named ‘Cheetah’. He became quite tame but could never take part in battalion parade unless he was held

upright in a Land Rover—if that had been done I would have pitied any who came close behind should the feline decide to urinate. Occasionally Cheetah was tethered with a shortish steel chain to the centre of the grassed battalion headquarters quadrangle, a location that for a while irritated two cheeky, noisy and cheetah-baiting but plucky little dachshunds belonging to our quartermaster, Peter Nicholas. Those two ‘doglets’ baited our mascot unmercifully. But one day, Cheetah cleverly pretended that the chain prevented him stretching nearer the dogs. He enticed one ‘dachsie’, getting it within striking distance and walloped it viciously, so ending forever all baiting by those and all other dogs. Cheetah, who had to be given live chickens as food in order to get the feathered roughage he needed for his metabolism and some chasing exercise, would toy with this food, as a cat does with a mouse, much to the chagrin of the local RSPCA. Nevertheless, he remained unconstrained by ‘animal sensitives’. I can remember once, at dusk, Major Denis Desfountain of a KAR battalion was standing next to me watching Cheetah. Our mascot was appraising us and, in particular, the fluttering ostrich feathers on Denis’ KAR bush hat. Cheetah, with his eyes steadily fixed on Denis’ hat, and body flat to the deck, creeping slowly forward with tail slowly slicing, suddenly charged Denis in a blur of determined yellow fur. Somewhat disturbed, Denis fell flat on his back, though he was on the other side of the two-metre-high wire-mesh fence. On another occasion, Cheetah was resting under my desk during a visit by General Hull, who, if I recall correctly, was Chief of the Imperial General Staff and visiting Rhodesia. Escorted by John Salt and others, the general entered my office. Unaware that Cheetah was under my desk, Salt asked me to explain what we had been doing in the Congo. There was a large area map on the wall just in front of my desk and vanity board on the front of my desk between my wall map and me, and Cheetah was lying behind the vanity board. General Hull moved into the space between the desk and the wall map to see the detail on the map and I was leaning over my desk using my RAR regimental cane to indicate locations. Cheetah, fascinated and quietened by the intrusion, had stopped throatily gurgling and rumbling (purring!) so I knew he was safe and still. What I did not know was that one of the puttee straps on the general’s boots had come loose and that Cheetah could see this flapping under the vanity board as the general moved. Then, the general was

whipped suddenly, ‘hull-down’, in front of my desk. There was some consternation as he was helped up and the offending puttee strap noticed and rewound. Cheetah was calmed down with some positive scratching and stroking, and was formally introduced to the general who took the event in his stride and with much British sang-froid, laughed it off. John Salt, however, was not amused. Finally, we now had the opportunity to train tactically and in other weapons—we trained our men to use the 3.5-inch anti-tank rocket launcher and hone their skills on their personal weapons. With the character of Cheetah in mind, we held two company exercises, titled Cheetah 1 and Cheetah 2, at Inkomo. Both were to practise ‘local limited war’ tactics in defence, attack patrolling and withdrawal. Speed was of the essence. During these exercises we also wore gas masks to practise command, control and manoeuvre. I had found, while wearing them in the 1959 Nyasaland emergency, that troops unpractised in wearing gas masks were often uncontrollable and tactically useless. I requested the RRAF to fly low over us while we were wearing gas masks and drop tear-gas on our defensive positions and our patrols. I had a theory that, as we would rarely have artillery in support and that the RRAF would have to be our ‘proxy’ gunners and that dropping tear-gas on an objective held by an enemy that we were attacking, or on an enemy attacking us without gas masks, would create much confusion to them. Tear-gas could also be dropped much closer to us than could aerial bombs. However, I never had the tactical opportunity to test this theory. In hindsight I was glad that I didn’t, because command and control while wearing masks is almost impossible; tear-gas irritatingly stings any exposed or sweaty flesh—ours and our enemy’s. Also, shooting while wearing gas masks is probably more dangerous to one’s own troops, causing possible fratricide, because the moisture build-up on the glass eye pieces soon makes good visibility and sighting a weapon accurately almost impossible. We did other tactical exercises in the Domboshawa area. On a reconnaissance for one of these, I was climbing a kopje (hill) I’d nicknamed ‘Flynn’s Folly’ after Sergeant Flynn, one of our new platoon sergeants. In a shallow cave under a rock I stumbled onto some leopard cubs. My smooth exit from that location would have made Cheetah proud. We continued the exercise very warily that night.

We also acted as ‘enemy’ on a major Army-wide exercise, including some elements of the Territorial Force, in remotely populated bush in the Umniati area. Since we were white and thought to be insufficiently bush-capable, my company was expected to be easily tracked, found and eliminated. However, we came into contact with our opponents on many occasions and although their patrols passed within 100 metres of us and often closer, they never found our company base.

The opening of Federal parliament in 1962.

Lord Dalhousie, the Governor-General, inspects the RLI Guard, accompanied by Major ‘Digger’ EssexClark, the Guard Commander. Captain Eric Sobey, the ADC to the Governor-General, is in the background.

Captains Dave Parker and Derry MacIntyre, both future Commanding Officers of the RLI.

Private Lew Millard, aged eighteen, with the reigental mascot, five-month-old cheetah, Diana.

Above (from left): RLI officers C/Sgt P. D. Shaw, Reg Edwards, Jack Caine (with pipe), Derry MacIntyre, RSM Ron Reid-Daly and Dave Parker.

Major ‘Digger’ Essex-Clark and Lt. Harry Harvey on their way to Gutu to recce a civil disturbance.

Trench warfare exercise at Inkomo Barracks outside salisbury.

Course Officer Captain Peter ‘Dizzy’ Daines demonstrates his prowess at unarmed combat on Recruit Else, Cleveland Range near Salisbury. Instructors look on.

Recruit Higgins on rock during lunch break at Cleveland Range.

Senior Course Instructor Sgt. Dave Scott at Cleveland Range.

‘Dizzy’ Daines inspecting Recruit Else for facial hair. Sgt. Les Webb looks on with amusem*nt.

Sgt. Scott takes a break.

On an earlier reconnaissance in an Alouette chopper, when deciding where to set up our company base, I had seen crocodiles in the main Umniati River so we avoided the river itself by setting up our base on a heavily

bushed and rocky bluff overlooking a well-pebbled tributary with a long, wide, open and easily observed vlei to our rear. We approached and exited only over the rocks and large pebbles and along the shallow stream, avoiding leaving our tracks on the nearby sandbanks. Our patrolling along the Congo border was certainly paying dividends. We had no difficulty in surprising, ambushing, and tactically running rings around our opponents. However, although we treated all ‘bush nasties’ with wary respect, we had some close calls with the odd, more aggressive wild animal. I remember calming some nervous English soldiers who were being observed by a troop of baboons overlooking their double-sentry and observation post from a nearby ridge. I explained that they watched us out of curiosity as they knew we were not a threat to them. They would mimick my movements and by hopping to one side, every baboon humorously copied my hop but remained amicably observant. In fact, those baboons were the best proxy sentries we could have had. My difficulty was going alone to briefings at the exercise headquarters without being seen coming or going from my company patrol base. I did it alone (but carrying a rifle and two live rounds) to avoid leaving group tracks and I also wore old, well-worn ‘takkies’ (sand-shoes) that were often worn by Bantu. Nevertheless I had to walk far from the base by taking circuitous routes. On one occasion I had to delay my return to avoid an opposition patrol. This concerned David Parker who was about to alert exercise control that I was lost. I only returned after last light. From then on I got a vehicle from the exercise headquarters to pick me up and return me to various points on bush tracks at a reasonable distance from our base. In 1962, we also had call-outs to provide a stabilizing (threatening?) force to keep the peace in areas considered to be minor security problems like Buhera, Gutu and Umtali. Earlier that year we were deployed to Buhera. Our base was near a village on the Sabi River, known by the locals for its many crocodile snatches. One morning—against orders not to do so, to prevent these snatches and bilharzia—some of my soldiers were bathing in the river. Corporal Crampton (the Australian of password fame) was suddenly seized and rolled under by a large crocodile. I was told that Private Platt was still attempting to swim away when ashore by many yards. However, with surprising calm and great presence of mind Crampton gouged out the crocodile’s eyes and wrenched his shredded legs and lower torso out of the thrashing croc’s jaws. There was a noisy ruckus at the scene and by the time

David Parker and I got there he was a dreadful mess of blood and flapping flesh and skin. We gave Crampton first aid and fired some shots at the crocodiles. More importantly, we returned a wayward testicl* by pinning together his slashed scrotum with a safety pin, and took him to the dispensary in Buhera where he was temporarily patched up and then taken to the General Hospital in Salisbury. When he recovered, his lower body looked like a map of a railway junction. We did look for, but never found the seriously visually impaired croc that had attacked Crampton. In Umtali we dispersed a not-too-dangerous crowd in Sakubva Township with a simple show of force with one platoon. These minor episodes were my swan song commanding A Company, 1RLI. I took leave before departing for Staff College in England and while the train was preparing to leave for Cape Town, my old A company RLI ‘paraded’ on the platform and bade me an emotional farewell. They presented me with a magnificent ‘Big Ben’ chiming clock which to this day still reminds me of those incredible soldiers that I’d had the privilege to lead for two years. It musically ‘donged’ away in our compartment all the way to Cape Town. For many years it chimed merrily to remind me of the splendid loyalty and unhesitating support that I’d had from all my officers, warrant officers, NCOs and men. Although we’d never been in serious combat together their quality and spirit would have enabled them to acquit themselves magnificently. Postscript: While attending the British Army Staff College, the Federation was dissolved. I had to choose to enlist in the Southern Rhodesian, Northern Rhodesian (to be Zambian), Nyasaland (to be Malawian), British or Australian armies; or become a civilian. I knew I was not popular with the powers that be in the Rhodesian Army and therefore knew my career had hit a brick wall there. And even though I had done well at the Staff College, I had lost confidence in the long-term future of Rhodesia, so decided to return home with my family to Australia and the Australian Army. Within a year of resigning from the Army of the Federation, I was commanding a company and was operations officer (S3) of an Australian infantry battalion group with integral artillery, armoured (cavalry/APC), engineer, and aviation support within the US 173rd Airborne Brigade in Vietnam for which I was fortunate to be later awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for ‘Leadership in Action’ by Australia, and the US Bronze Star. My battalion, The 1st Battalion, The Royal Australian Regiment

(1RAR), was most extraordinarily also awarded the US Meritorious Unit Commendation. My experiences in 1RLI and the Rhodesian Army, and the many warrior exemplars I had the privilege to know, were the foundation to my soldiering and character. I was on active service in Vietnam, when I muttered the words “poor devils” to my friends when I heard the news of Ian Smith’s unilateral declaration of independence of Rhodesia from the United Kingdom. I explained that the Rhodesian Army would now be up against both the majority of its nation’s population and the world in order to attempt to maintain the unmaintainable in the modern world. I forecast to my mates that it “was now just a matter of time and sadly, many deaths” …

1

The Incredibles p47 The Incredibles p49 3 The Incredibles p51 4 The Incredibles p52 5 The Incredibles p70 6 The Incredibles p71-72 7 Meeting (from the Zulu)—traditional African open air conference/debate, not unlike the Indian durbar of Imperial days 2

Commandos and colours Ian Buttenshaw records: … In December 1964, a new CO was brought in. Lieutenant-Colonel G. P. Walls arrived, having previously raised and commanded C Squadron SAS in Malaya, and was tasked with reforming the RLI into a commando battalion. It had been decided in the higher echelons that the commando image and training is more in keeping with the character of young Rhodesians … As a result, in early 1965, the battalion started to reform and undergo intensive specialist training to become a fully fledged commando unit. Unlike other commando units in other countries, where a commando is a battalion, and the sub-units are companies, the RLI decided to keep their original title, and call the sub-units commandos instead. Thus, A Company became 1 Commando, B Company became 2 Commando, and D Company, which had previously absorbed what was left of C Company, moved into the old C Company Block and became 3 Commando. (D Company’s old block was taken over by the remnants of C Squadron SAS who had come down from Ndola on the break-up of Federation in 1963. SAS moved to their new barracks in Old Cranborne in 1970 and Training Troop moved out of Base Group and occupied the block). HQ Company became Base Group, which also had Support Group under its command, comprising the Mortar Troop and the Recce Troop mounted in the Ferrets, inherited from the disbanded Selous Scouts Armoured Car Regiment. The establishment was reviewed with commandos comprising five troops of 25 men rather than the previous organization of three platoons of 37 men. [Chris co*cks comments: ‘It was rare, however, that any of the commandos ever operated at full strength with five troops. The norm was four troops per commando, and even then, because of ongoing manpower shortages, casualty rates etc., a troop often struggled to muster three or four sticks (of four men each) for Fireforce duties.] The CO introduced the now-familiar tartan-green beret with all forms of uniform including ceremonial. This international symbol of commando forces was presented to the commando soldiers as they completed their rigorous retraining. The commando role demanded that the battalion underwent all aspects of specialized training and for six weeks at a time one troop would patrol Kariba Gorge while others would practise rock climbing, abseiling or

watermanship. The early months of 1965 were generally a time of intensive training. About this time the rest of the Army were saying that this commando concept was a lot of nonsense. To quash such comments a large-scale exercise called Flick Knife was organized in the Eastern Districts in May. This exercise was to test the RLI in the role of an anti-guerrilla force, trained to deal with infiltrating bands of terrorists. 2 Commando under Major John Cole provided the enemy, while Battalion HQ deployed to the Vumba and 1 and 3 Commandos deployed to other areas, with command posts established at Chipinga and Inyanga. Deployment procedures as well as communications were tested. During the exercise a farmer was actually reported missing and the exercise was stopped to find him; he was found dead the next afternoon, killed by a poacher’s arrow. The exercise was resumed and there followed days of ambush, counter-ambush, pursuits and long, exhausting patrols through rugged terrain, supported throughout by the RRAF helicopters. The exercise culminated in an attack on the remaining terrorists. At the end of the exercise the men were tired and dishevelled; they had had little sleep, had worked under battle conditions, with the taste of death to add its tragic touch of stark realism. The exercise proved to the doubters that the commando concept was not ‘hogwash’ and the RLI as a commando force was well up for the task. To further prove their commando ability, in August 1965, the RLI took part in the largest Army exercise since the break-up of the Federation. Exercise Long Drag was organized by 2 Brigade to test the brigade’s primary unit, the RLI, in its commando role. RAR, SAS, Signals, Engineers, Services Corps and the Air Force were involved. The project resembled Exercise Flick Knife but on a much larger scale. Without knowing what was to happen the RLI requested air support to airlift troops, simulate air strikes, recce enemy movement and evacuate casualties. This exercise covered all the northern and eastern areas of the country from Binga in the northwest through Kariba, Sipolilo, Mount Darwin and Mtoko in the northeast to Inyanga and Melsetter in the Eastern Districts. It was due to last two weeks but finished slightly earlier than expected because the RLI mopped up the ‘enemy terrorists’ so quickly and thoroughly that it seemed pointless to continue. The ‘terrorist’ commander (Major Dudley Coventry, OC SAS, alias ‘Brigadier Fungi Singh’) was captured by an RLI patrol. His successor (Major David Heppenstall, OC D Company 1RAR,

alias ‘Brigadier Hepp Yee Sou’) was also captured within hours of taking command. [Author’s note: At the Time of Long Drag I, along with my mates from 16 Recruit Squad, which included the likes of Eric Bonner, Fred Cope, Jack Peters and Ed Savage, was undergoing basic training at Kariba. We saw various participants of the exercise come and go. As awed novices I remember us listening, at a respectful distance, to a jubilant Terry O’Leary crowing as he described the reaction of the captured ‘enemy’ troops—“… The buggers said they didn’t want to play soldiers anymore!” War games that they were at the time, these exercises were shortly to prove vital experience.] The exercise showed that as a commando unit the RLI had truly arrived and was a force to be reckoned with. Its co-operation with the Air Force, particularly the helicopter (7 Squadron) was a portent of things to come. The Prime Minister was photographed while visiting the exercise and the picture that was subsequently published in Paris Match (somewhat bizarrely) carried a caption indicating that he was reviewing his troops in preparation for UDI! … RLI veterans Chris Pearce and Dick Lockley both recollect that sometime in late 1964 the decision was taken to designate the RLI as a commando battalion. Lockley writes: … I joined the battalion in January 1965 and went into 3 Commando under Hugh Rowley and commanded 15 Troop. The unit had recently become a commando battalion. Those were great days of training at Kariba, doing watermanship training, abseiling, Zambezi gorge patrols etc. It all stood us in good stead when the real war began …

Aerial view of Cranborne Barracks, Salisbury.

The Colours are the backdrop for this gaudy spread in the Officers’ Mess. The colonial pith helmets, pelts and stuffed pig are perhaps reminiscent of a medieval banquet.

Dining-in night at the WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess. The piper is flanked by WOI Robin Tarr (RSM 1RLI) and Sgt. Carley Burger (1 Commando).

The old and the new—the outgoing RSM Ron Reid-Daly (at left) and the incoming Robin Tarr, who took up his appointment in September 1965.

Elucidating further Chris Pearce says: … I joined on 22 March 1965 (funny how those milestone dates get engraved forever in one’s memory). I was in 13 (Recruit) Squad. When we passed out 2 Commando became a commando proper as opposed to being the recruit commando. We were then 7 Troop. I remember the stink when about seven of us were made lancecorporals within weeks of passing out. Caused a huge ‘nausea’ with the other commandos but was occasioned by a decision to have homegrown ‘lancejacks’. On 19 June 1965, the battalion, under Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Walls, received its colours from the governor of Rhodesia, Sir Humphrey Gibbs KCMG, OBE. Selected members from each commando comprised the escort to the colours party. Dick Lockley and Mike Johnson were chosen as ensigns to the colours—Lockley had carried the colours at Sandhurst and Johnson

had performed the same role in the Grenadier Guards. Unfortunately during an evening of high spirits in the officers’ mess, Johnson, attempting an Olympic hurdle over the braai [barbeque] drum fell and damaged his knee. This meant that two new ensigns had to be found to paraded the colours on the great day. The new incumbents were Trevor Desfountain and Doug Lambert. Together with my fellow recruits of 16 Squad, I was privileged to witness this historic occasion as a spectator. It was at the dedication service that the regimental slow march, written by Captain Frank Sutton of the Rhodesian Corps of Signals band, was first heard. Originally entitled The Rhodesian Light Infantry, Sutton later requested that its name be changed to the more appropriate The Incredibles.

The run-up to UDI During this politically tense year of 1965, the unit was kept busy and vigilant. 1 Commando and Battalion HQ were at Kariba. Here the Zambian Army had taken up positions opposite the power station. 2 Commando was at Chirundu. Both these sub-units were keeping their eyes on the opposite (Zambian) banks from whence decidedly unfriendly noises were emanating. 3 Commando was divided between Rhodesia’s two Air Force bases—namely Thornhill in Gwelo and New Sarum in Salisbury. For the Rhodesians then, this was a year of great uncertainty. Britain was shedding its colonies hastily, granting independence to all her former African colonies unconditionally—whether they were ready for it or not. Rhodesia’s request for independence was turned down on the grounds that she did not observe universal suffrage; ‘One man, one vote’ was Britain’s demand. Ian Smith, the Rhodesian Prime Minister, attempted to explain why such a policy was impracticable in a country where most of the population was illiterate and that the existing electorate was in favour of a qualified franchise system. Britain found this unacceptable. Smith had come up against a solid wall which, for the next 15 years, he was unable to scale or break down. For their part, the nationalists in the country, once they realized that Britain was not going to intervene militarily on their behalf, began to take an increasingly belligerent and militant line in the attempt to gain their objectives. The predominantly Shona ZANU party had been formed in 1963 as a breakaway from Joshua Nkomo’s Ndebele ZAPU, with Ndabaningi

Sithole as leader and Robert Mugabe as party secretary. ‘Many people were killed as rival former colleagues turned against each other. Homes and stores were burned and looted.’1 As a result, Nkomo, Sithole and Mugabe were detained and remained incarcerated for the next decade. Their supporters and party officials continued their activities but were having great difficulty in recruiting members into their respective military wings. ‘On the whole, party members showed no great enthusiasm for guerrilla fighting.’2 The nationalists had accepted communist backing, with Russia supporting ZAPU and China backing ZANU, with recruits to either faction being trained by their new mentors. Young Rhodesian blacks living in Zambia found themselves pressganged. Fifty of these infiltrated into Rhodesia in August. A Special Branch informer betrayed their presence to the police and nearly all were arrested and convicted. In the following month, one Mishek Mnetwa, a North Koreantrained saboteur, was caught and gaoled after detonating an explosion in a block of flats in Bulawayo, using gelignite. On 11 November, Smith issued the Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI). The battalion heard the Prime Minister’s speech along with the rest of the world. The RLI were in the main Smith supporters and approved of the declaration, celebrating the occasion with a few drinks. Indeed, at that moment, there seemed nothing to worry about. The semi-anticipated invasion by British troops never materialized and as the days and weeks went uneventfully by the country settled into a mood of quiet determination. Many seemed confident that a political solution would be found and that everything would work out fine. This would prove a very mistaken assumption. Rhodesian officers attending military courses in the United Kingdom were given an ultimatum regarding the oath of allegiance to the monarch. All but one packed their bags and returned home.

Operation Pagoda During 1966, the battalion continued with its routine training and bush patrols. So far, nothing had transpired. This changed in March when four gangs of ZANU insurgents launched the first serious armed infiltration into Rhodesia. They crossed the Zambezi, landing at Chirundu, having been told by their leaders in Lusaka that they were to begin the struggle to liberate Zimbabwe. The incursion gave rise to Operations Pagoda I and II. One of

the gangs, known as the Zwimba group and code-named Gukula-Honde, murdered a farmer, Mr. J. Viljoen, and his wife at their Nevada farm on the border of the Zowa African Purchase Area, north of Hartley. The Viljoen murders took place on 16 May 1966 and 1 Commando, led by ‘Hank’ Meyer, was deployed to help the police. Dennis Croukamp, then a member of 13 Troop, 3 Commando recalls in his memoirs Only my friends call me “Crouks”. Patrolling over the next four weeks was intensive, resulting in numerous arrests of insurgent sympathizers. One of those detained was a witchdoctor who gave out that one of the gang members, Abel Denga, was in the habit of visiting a woman at a certain kraal.

Ian Smith became Prime Minister of Rhodesia in 1964. Here he meets senior RLI officers—Lt-Col. Jack Caine (obscured), Maj. John Hickman MC (partially obscured), Maj. Peter Rich, Capt. Geoff Atkinson and Maj. Rob Southey.

Captured ZAPU guerrilla rations and uniform.

Criminal Investigation Department (CID) policemen pose in a ZAPU canoe, captured during an insurgent crossing of the Zambezi River, at Salisbury Central Police Station.

That night at 2100 hours, one of the longest and most motley convoy of vehicles imaginable left for a point some five kilometres from the rendezvous with Abel Denga. The convoy consisted of eight Army Land Rovers, one police J5 and an assortment of civilian cars belonging to police reservists on call-up. Because of its length, the convoy was difficult to control, and as usual the Army brought up the rear. After the vehicles had stopped near the objective, everyone de-bussed. Once everyone was on foot overall control was lost because we were so spread out. When the lead personnel arrived at the hut where Denga was visiting, we tail-enders had only just left our vehicles. The happenings at the hut in question as described to me afterwards went something like this … The main bunch of cops, all armed with 9mm Sterling submachine guns (SMGs), formed a half-circle in front of the hut and a black constable was sent forward. He knocked on the door saying he would like to speak to Abel. After some protest the young terrorist came walking out of the

hut, initially looking down and doing up his fly. At this stage he had not noticed his unwanted guests. On looking up, his look of disbelief was obvious, so he turned and ran, trying to get around the hut … The policeman directly in front of him squeezed the trigger of his SMG, the first round hitting the ground just in front of his own feet. Lifting the weapon while firing one long burst, he emptied the magazine, running out of ammunition as the last round struck the ground a short distance behind the running terrorist’s heels. One of the police reservists, a local farmer who was standing to one side, raised his World War Two-vintage .303 rifle, took aim, fired and hit the fleeing men in his side. I heard the firing but did not get to see the results … A comedy of errors but that terrorist indeed proved to be Abel Denga, aka Master Tresha, second-in-command of the infamous Crocodile Gang. Pagoda I and II were eventually closed down on 18 September 1966. RLI involvement had been minimal. The insurgent gangs had been eliminated mostly through police action. Throughout, whether deliberately or not, the police did not once consult the Army. This was the start of a lamentable trait by some elements of the uniformed branch of the BSAP (British South Africa Police) to consider any anti-terrorist activity as exclusively their preserve, maintaining that counter-terrorism could be dealt with through police actions. The Army as a result took strong exception and rightly made representations at the following Operations Co-ordinating Committee (OCC) meeting, the result of which was the establishment of the Joint Operational Command (JOC) system. JOCs at district level would be chaired by the senior military representative, the point finally being made that war is a soldier’s business and the police’s ancillary role, important though it is, should be subservient to the military-command structure. It is certainly not my intention to denigrate the BSAP in any way. Their record remains superb. What needs to be noted however, was that at this stage they appeared totally unaware that their training did not equip them for counter-insurgency operations. In these opening engagements of the Rhodesian bush war, local police commanders appeared over-zealous in attempting to be accredited with as many ‘kills’ as possible. That the police did not sustain casualties during the entire operation was due more to luck than any tactical skill. It was observed during the operation that they did not have any IA (Immediate Action) drills for attack or withdrawal. Army call signs were deployed on a willy-nilly basis without any clear, thought-out purpose or logic.

In this respect, and concerning Operation Pagoda, Croukamp writes: … We quickly realized that any good intelligence coming out of the Tribal Trust Land (TTL) would be reacted to by the police task teams, making us secondclass citizens sucking the hind tit. We believed that the police were reacting to all the best intelligence and would leave us all the wild-goose chases. Orders from the cops went a bit like, “Go and scratch in those hills” and “See if there’s anything in that bush area.” The best one was, “Deploy along the Hunyani River between there and there in a stop line.” Being only about 60 troopers on the operation, there would have been approximately one kilometre between each soldier if they were posted individually along the Hunyani River … Regarding rural and urban counter-insurgency operations (COIN ops) Croukamp writes: … The Army rules of operations came in a pamphlet titled Military Support to Civil Power (MCP). Part of the deal was that every Army patrol had to have a policeman present. Before opening fire on the enemy the police had to cede their authority to the Army by signing a declaration that the situation had gone beyond their abilities. In other words, they had to admit that they had lost control of the situation … This, as the reader can imagine, was a ludicrous situation and was discarded. I distinctly remember, when operating with Croukamp in Mozambique sometime in the early ’70s, his frustration as a junior commander on being hamstrung by these rules. “In other armies,” he berated, “troop commanders know where they stand. In Rhodesia we have this bloody outdated MCP pamphlet!” In the following account of Operation Yodel, the RLI’s first contact, we will read of the ridiculous level these rules had attained when RLI officer, Lieutenant Trevor Desfountain, was subpoenaed for murder after killing insurgents in a night engagement during which one of his own men was wounded. Chris co*cks concurs: … Right up to the end of the war, certain BSAP elements still considered the war some sort of civil action. Not all—a lot of cops did great work and were in the forefront of operations in lonely outposts—just some of the old dinosaurs, the relics from Kenya and Malaya, those old colonial G&T-swilling-pukka-types. The average RLI trooper had nothing but contempt for the police (undoubtedly the feelings were mutual), whose primary responsibility he felt was dishing out parking tickets …

From the date of Operation Pagoda and indeed right up to 21 December 1972, none of the armed incursions into the country, although serious, ever presented a major threat. There were many reasons for this: 1) The ongoing political infighting within both ZANU and ZAPU to the detriment of their military wings; 2) The conscript Portuguese Army in neighbouring Mozambique held Rhodesia’s eastern flank—some 1,100 kilometres of border. (Rhodesia’s demise was hastened when this buffer was removed after the Portuguese withdrawal following the military coup d’état in Lisbon on 25 April 1974.); 3) Both ZAPU and ZANU were to persist in sending large groups of men through uninhabited terrain and into inhospitable areas where their presence could be easily detected and reported. Of the two groups, it was the initially ineffective ZANU who first began to re-think their tactics and this only in the early 1970s when most of their commanders, primarily Josiah Tongogara, having trained in China, had learned the Mao Tse Tung principle—that it was pointless to operate in remote areas without first subverting the people, gaining their support, and then, ‘swimming among the people like a fish in water’.

19 June 1965. Presentation of The Colours to The 1st Battalion, The Rhodesian Light Infantry at Cranborne Barracks. The parade is reviewed by His Excellency the Honourable Sir Humphrey Gibbs KCNG, OBE, Governor and Commander-in-Chief, the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. To his right is Lt-Col. G. P. Walls MBE, CO 1RLI.

Dining-in night WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess. Fromt left: Lt-Col. Jack Caine CO 1RLI (1967–68), Brig. A. Dunlop (Minister of Transport and Power) and WOII Harry Birkett.

1st Battalion RLI Colour Party Ceremonial Presentation of Colours Parade. From left: Sgt. Murray C. A., Lt. D. R. Lambert (ensign to the Queen’s Colour), WOI Tarr R. O., 2Lt. T. G. Desfountain (ensign to the Regimental Colour), Sgt. Farndell C. P.

Lt-Col. G. P. Walls MBE—the occasion of his farewell function from the WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess, June 1967.

Operation Yodel—first real contact The battalion’s first proper contact was during Operation Yodel, which began when two ZANU gangs totalling 15 men crossed over into Rhodesia near the Chirundu Sugar Estates on 13 September 1966. Their intended operating areas were Sinoia, Karoi and Urungwe. They were armed with AKs, SKSs,

pistols and hand grenades. They also carried a bamboo ‘bazooka’. Four days later, in the evening of 17 September, they made a serious mistake when one of the gangs stopped a pantechnicon, eleven miles south of Chirundu. They ordered the driver to take them to Sinoia. He merely snorted and pulled away. Incensed, the gang leader jumped onto the running board and shot the man twice in the head. The truck veered off the road and landed in a ditch. At 0200 hours Captain Dick Lockley of 1 Commando was woken and given the news by a police detective. He deployed the commando immediately. The follow-up is described (in dry humour) by Lieutenant Trevor Desfountain: … HQ 1 Commando was based at Makuti with 1 Troop as reserve and the remaining troops on border control. There was no operation on at all and Intelligence (Special Branch) had no knowledge of any crossing. Just normal border-control ops. Captain Dick Lockley was acting OC as Major Peter Rich was attending some rifle shoot or other. Dick Lockley was bored and besides which I was constantly beating him at cards so he decided to send me out on a night patrol—I ask you! I was to take six men from my troop, if I could find that many sober, and patrol from the old Nyakasanga road until we either got lost or dropped from exhaustion. Bravely, and innocently we set off. Cards, French letters, passports, 22 days’ rations each and a couple of rounds per weapon completed our preparations. We de-bussed at the old Nyakasanga Bridge where Second Lieutenant Garth Barrett’s troop was, theoretically, in ambush. They were all asleep. Feeling that our back-up was really secure, we tottered off in something resembling file formation down the road. We moved very slowly because none of us could think very fast. We stopped every 200 yards or so to ‘look and listen’. We looked dreadful so we kept on moving. At 0245, about three miles from our de-bus point, we approached a large baobab tree on the left-hand side of the road. Barely had the words “Dick, you’re a prick” passed my lips for the umpteenth time when I saw a mass of dark figures in front of me. They were about 20 yards to my front, partially obscured by the baobab. We went to ground on either side of the road and waited. Their leader shone a torch at me and I saw vaguely, and heard terrifyingly, rifles being removed from shoulders. Knowing that there were no other security forces in the area, I concluded they could only be the enemy or game rangers. We hated game rangers so we opened fire. A fairly mean fire fight took place with their green tracer going right over our heads. On the Verey being fired (can you

believe it?) the enemy ran into the thick jesse bush on the side of the road. Leaving Marsh and Foulds on the right side of the road to give us covering fire, I took the rest of the patrol in extended line, searching the area between the road and the jesse bush. The enemy commander had hidden behind the baobab and at about ten yards opened fire with his AK. Boddington was hit in the arm and with great bravery and presence of mind we took cover amid shouts of “Dick, you’re a prick!” I shouted to Marsh to fire around the baobab and when he stopped, we ran up. We found the leader, one other body, two SKS rifles, an AK, a bamboo bazooka and six packs. I also stole a Tokarev pistol (subsequently returned to SB), a Tokarev holster and £42 in cash. Having cleared the area, we returned to Barrett’s camp, woke up his ambush, told him our war story and returned to Makuti camp. It was there that we told Dick Lockley that we hated him, hated SB and hated game rangers. Early the following morning, Lieutenant Tom Douglas and his troop followed up three sets of tracks. He found one of the enemy left for dead with a bullet through the mouth. This impediment made him sound like a cross between P. K. van der Byl [a Rhodesian cabinet minister known for his plummy accent] and an Irish git. He was recovered to Kariba. The remaining five enemy were picked up at Kariba Township by SB within a week. This was only because SB were all on R&R in the township at the time. As a result of this contact—the first—the following points arose: a) because there was no State of Emergency at the time, the BSAP did not know how to go about prosecuting the captured enemy; b) I, as troop commander, was subpoenaed for murder and had to give evidence in court to defend myself. (This has got to be a first.); c) we received shotguns, veldskoen boots and camouflage denims shortly afterward. Lieutenant-Colonel Walls was CO and had the necessary ‘pull’ to get these items off the production line … Intended as a light-hearted and entertaining record, the inaccuracies and errors in this account of the operation were corrected by Lockley in March 1991. Writing with the operational record before him, Lockley states: … Our first intelligence report occurred on Thursday, 15 September 1966, (Trevor’s contact occurred on 25 September) with an SB report that about 15 armed Africans had been seen in Zambia, at the junction of the Kariba–Chirundu road. They were seen by a civilian passing through and were reputed to be carrying ‘Lee Enfield’-type rifles and large wooden boxes with rope handles. This information was disseminated to all troops. In the early hours of 19 September, I was awoken by DSO Dave Bright (in those days Chirundu

was known as ‘Bright and Early post’ as Bob Early was also on the strength of Chirundu police station) to tell me that the driver of a Bowden & Strever pantechnicon had been murdered. A terrorist infiltration had obviously taken place and an operation was launched. Trevor is quite right when he states that I was acting OC of 1 Commando 1 RLI, while the late Peter Rich was away on a shooting event. At the time of the incident, Commando HQ was deployed at Chirundu and the troops on normal border-control operations along the Zambezi River. As a result of the murder, we carried out extensive re-deployments, moving back to the escarpment and establishing our HQ at Makuti. Later that day, Leon Jacobs, who was then adjutant of the RLI, came through to me on the radio with instructions for me to form a JOC (Op Yodel) at Makuti with Chief Superintendent John Cannon, OC Lomagundi, and Flight Lieutenant Wally Heinrichs as the police and Air Force representatives respectively. Superintendent Sandy Sanderson also became involved in that JOC which worked extremely well, albeit that we had natural teething problems regarding joint communications.

Operation Yodel. Above: Dick Lockley re-enacts a contact. He is in the position of the ZANU guerrilla who was shooting at him, before being shot in the back by an RLI trooper.

Contact post-mortem.

An RLI trooper checks two ZANU casualties.

RLI troops, National Parks and BSAP personnel display captured Russian weaponry.

On the very next day, 20 September, Garth Barrett, who was in ambush position of the Nyakasanga Bridge, reported that two Africans had been seen in the thick jesse bush that evening. Again the following day, they reported torch lights in the evening and, on 22 September Garth arrived at my HQ with

four Africans in the back of his Land Rover. Each was carrying a pistol in his swimming costume, worn as underpants, and each had between £70 and £170 in Rhodesian notes. Their story was that they had murdered the pantechnicon driver, that they had crossed downstream of Chirundu Bridge, were seven in strength and that other gangs had crossed or were about to cross the Zambezi. The four had been sent off separately to search for water and had stumbled into Garth’s ambush. The other three members of this gang were picked up within the next few days by a combination of good luck on our part and stupidity on theirs. They had all cached their arms, which were subsequently recovered, but were a give-away from their clothing and the fact that they all wore swimming trunks. So it was an easy matter to strip all the suspiciouslooking Africans (not that there were many in the valley at the time!). Interrogations continued and on an indication of a crossing point, fresh tracks were found by Tom Douglas and Sandy Sanderson. Sandy and I agreed that taking into account the weight of the packs found previously, namely 70– 100 pounds, they would only be in the area of the escarpment by the night of 25 September 1966. Accordingly I briefed Trevor Desfountain, with his six men, to patrol down the old road from the Nyakasanga Bridge toward the Zambezi River, and the rest as they say, is history. Trevor and his men acquitted themselves extremely well in what must have been a ‘hairy’ engagement, considering it was the very first of our Rhodesian Chimurenga war …

Notes The battalion continued to grow in strength. In January 1967, it welcomed five new subalterns into its ranks, namely Pat Armstrong, Chris Pearce, Charl Viljoen, Nick Fawcett and Peter Mincher. We may add here that Reid-Daly had (reluctantly) accepted a commission and Robin Tarr was appointed RSM. On 18 June 1967, Walls relinquished command of the battalion to ‘Black’ Jack Caine (ex-Coldstream Guards). He celebrated the occasion with a parachute jump—he hadn’t jumped since 1953! Earlier in the year, an RLI parachute club had been formed. The jumps were made at Steve Delport’s farm, which was the home of Rhodesian skydivers. Peter Batty was the first to jump, thereby making regimental history. Borrowed SAS parachutes were used and the subsequent celebrations were conducted in the SAS bar, ‘The Winged Stagger’. The club

later acquired its own parachutes and Corporal George Murray designed the club’s shoulder flash.

Recruits’ course Stu Taylor signed up for ten years with the RLI in April 1967 (he finally demobbed in 1980 after 13 years’ service). Here is an extract from his forthcoming book Lost in Africa, which graphically highlights the first few confusing days of a recruit’s training (graphic language is used): … One morning (there were now about 40 of us in five barrack rooms) some rude little sh*t in uniform barged into our barrack room at about 0530, woke us up with a “What the f*ck do you think you’re doing? Are you on daddy’s f*cking yacht or something? Fall in, in the front in two minutes, you idle little sh*ts.” This guy was mad, as he was ranting and raving at the top of his voice and appeared as if he was going to throw a thrombie at any minute. Which ‘front’ he actually meant was confusing, as there were many ‘fronts’ he could have been referring to. So, apart from being woken up with a bang, none of us actually knew where we were supposed to be. After running around the place in confusion for about five minutes, we eventually managed to form up in a squad at the ‘front’. Because this whole exercise had taken more than two minutes, we were all required to double around a large traffic circle “and the last one back can do 50 press-ups,” announced this wop in uniform—as it turned out, the last four guys did 50 press-ups—these pricks couldn’t even count. Maybe I should have joined the police—or stayed in South Africa. But we were here and that was that. “RIGHT … TAAN!” remonstrated the tit in uniform. Half of us turned right, about a third of us stood still and the rest turned left. This didn’t amuse the guy in uniform and earned us another trip around the traffic circle, accompanied by 50 press-ups—in the first 15 minutes of our day, we’d run about two miles, some of us had performed 50 press-ups, others 100 and a few 150—surely we wouldn’t survive 14 weeks of this treatment! Eventually we ended up at the swimming pool at 0600-ish. The water was on the cold side and we had to swim a few lengths to ‘warm up’. These Army types were morons—surely it would have saved a lot of fuss and bother if this guy had just asked us if we’d like to go for an early morning jog and a dip? By the time we arrived back at our lodgings, we were told to fall in again at 0710—which gave us about 15 minutes to shave, wash our bodies and

have breakfast. We had been informed that it was a court-martial offence for a soldier to miss a meal, so with visions of being put before a firing squad and summarily executed, we decided to have breakfast first. Some opted out and rather carried out their early morning ablutions, but most of us decided against a possible death penalty. By the time breakfast was finished it was 0705—five minutes to sh*t, shave and shower for those of us with lives to live (after it was discovered that we had obeyed standing orders for soldiers). So that’s what the Army was all about—time management. To this day, I have not a clue how to manage time.

Above and below: A patrol commander checks his map while his men take a smoke break.

A trooper slakes his thirst in the searing heat of the Zambezi Valley.

A trooper takes five in the Zambezi Valley. Note the face veil, machete, dixie (mess cup) and the copy of Don’t Die in the Bundu.

At about 0712 we were still doing the last of our touch-ups in preparation for whatever the next phase of our lives was going to be, when all hell broke lose as TWO of these madmen in uniform stormed into the barrack room, screaming obscenities about “filthy little sh*ts, you live like f*cking pigs,” one of them picking on the guy whose bed was closest to the door. By this time we realized that we weren’t fit to be on this Earth and were all standing rigidly to what we presumed was the pose for attention at the side of our beds, and these guys let rip. “When I look at you, give me your number, rank and name.” And they set about scrutinizing us all very closely one by one. I presumed these guys were deaf, as we had to bawl out our number, rank and name to them as they came to each of us and inspected our turnout. But they never heard us the first time, or the second, or the third, and eventually we were all hoarse from shouting and they were purple with rage because we were “ignorant little c*nts” and “gungy pigs whose mothers didn’t love us”— I thought they were a bit unstable as well because we all had to open our various trunks and lockers and these guys just went berserk, throwing the contents thereof all over the place, at the same time frothing at the mouth and ranting and raving as to how we could live with ourselves, as we “were worse than f*cking pigs”. There wasn’t anything visibly wrong with anything, but maybe these guys had X-ray vision or something as we were all classed as “gungy little sh*ts”. Well, so be it, but when it came to the ablution block, we were “filthier than filthy”. It appeared that even drops of water were “filth”. We came to the conclusion that everything had to have a shine on it and specks of dust and loose threads were intolerable. So there wasn’t really a helluva lot to the Army—although at that particular stage in my life I would rather have been on the beach in Muizenberg or something. After getting some semblance of order back in our lives, we were told to fall in “in the front” with our “boxes, tin barrack”. What was next? We didn’t have much time to think about it, as we had “two minutes”—I was convinced these two maniacs in uniform knew nothing about time as everything was “two minutes”. Anyway, we assembled ‘in the front’, shuffled into three ranks as best we could with our tin trunks weighing us down, but this was not good enough for the instructors. “Stand at ease you c*nts!” Now for some of us who hadn’t had the benefit of school cadets ‘at ease’ was as much of a

foreign statement as being addressed by someone in Outer Mongolian and some of us had our feet together and others apart—which earned all of us a run around the favourite traffic circle and the slower ones performed the perfunctory 50 press-ups. When we were nice and buggered and all standing at ease in three soldier-like ranks, one of the instructors came to life and bellowed “SQUAD … SHUN!” Some of us who knew the score came to attention, but others stood bewildered and it was off around the traffic circle again, this time with our tin trunks. We must have looked a motley crew, trying to run around with those things weighing us down. Somewhere along the line we passed an over-smartly dressed individual, who observed this untidy bunch of rabble running down the road and immediately went into a mental depression, seeking out the leader of this mass of disorganized humanity. Then his beady eye picked up our oppressor. “CORPORAL!” bellowed the newcomer. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON HERE? GET THESE MEN INTO SOME FORM OF ORDER BEFORE I BITE YOUR BLOODY HEAD OFF, YOU HORRIBLE MAN … HOW DARE YOU UNTIDY MY CAMP! WHAT’S YOUR BLOODY NAME?” This idiot (our ‘leader’) proceeded to come to attention at the appearance of this over-smartly dressed individual and started stammering, “Corporal Bloggs, SIR!” By this time, ‘Sir’ was foaming at the mouth, as we had just continued on our merry way like a herd of uncontrolled cattle on dip-day and it looked as if he was about to go into apoplexy. “GET A GRIP OF THOSE MEN, CORPORAL, ELSE I’LL HAVE YOUR BLOODY GUTS FOR GARTERS! DO YOU HEAR ME?” “YESSIR!” bleated the overwrought corporal. “NOW GETAWAY BEFORE I KICK YOUR ARSE UNTIL YOUR NOSE BLEEDS, YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE MAN.” So we weren’t the only ‘horrible little men’ around? That must have been God (it turned out that he was the RSM of the battalion, and in the Army that is as close to God as anyone can get). When this demented fool with two stripes eventually caught up with us and shepherded us into three ranks, he was not the fuming, spitting idiot of before—he had actually calmed down. The RSM had obviously influenced him to be NICE to us. We were marched sedately to our next destination, putting our left feet on the ground when the corporal shouted “left” and our right feet down when the corporal shouted

“right”—there was nothing easier—if only the corporal showed a bit of empathy we wouldn’t panic. We were marched to a building advertised as ‘Quartermaster’s Stores, 1st Battalion, Rhodesian Light Infantry’ and we were given ‘Forms, 1157’ and sorted into single file. So commenced our first of many kit issues. Again began this crazy-sounding nomenclature of the Army—we were issued ‘shorts PT green’, ‘buckles belt brass’, ‘yokes 44 pattern’, ‘tins mess set’ and so the confusion went, until we had all the kit that we’d need for what seemed the duration of our lives protecting a nation … ‘shirts twill drab’, ‘belts 44 pattern’, etc. etc. etc. We were on our way to becoming decent citizens. Maybe we would also become brain-deficient like our corporal— whom we actually never saw again—maybe he was court-martialled and executed by the RSM for his part in our slovenly march-past … … In the days that followed, we were physically and mentally abused for about 20 hours out of every 24, in which time we also received instruction on the various weapons we would come across during our careers as soldiers. This was interspersed with lectures on tactics that I’m sure General Patton or Field Marshal Montgomery would have been impressed with—our instructors took themselves very seriously and were in fact extremely professional—what abuse we went through was just to break us down so we could be remoulded ‘the army way’. Early operations in the Zambezi Valley, 1966–67.

The SLR 7.62 was the standard issue rifle. This was later replaced by the FN 7.62 with carrying handle removed.

Stu Hammond (crouching on right), later to become a warrant officer in MT. Dave MacDonald is standing in the centre.

A Land Rover negotiates a swollen river in the Zambezi Valley.

co*cky Binks (3 Commando) in the foreground.

Alouette III helicopter pilots gained invaluable experiences during the early operations such as Yodel and Nickel.

Some of the instructors actually thought they were quite clever too. One morning I was asked whether I had shaved—when I replied in the affirmative, I was asked whether I had used a mirror, I again said that I had.

“Well, you should have used a razor,” came the blunt reply. Another comment was, “Stand closer to your razor next time.” When it came to field training and weapon-handling lessons, there was always “The reason why this is being taught”—this being that without this knowledge you, as a soldier or body of soldiers, would not be able to perform to your optimum. Then would follow a war story, true or false, where whoever lacked this knowledge or was deficient in that particular skill was no longer with us “because he was a stupid c*nt”. Then came the guts of the lesson, with demonstration, practice, repetition-until-you-coulddo-it-in-the-dark, so at the end of it all you would “not go home to mum in a little box”. The Rhodesian Army as such, had at this early stage, never really been tested in any sort of warfare on a large scale so no one really knew how they would react when under fire or when they came across ‘the enemy’. Drill was something that we did a lot of “because it is a proven fact that it is drill that influences the soldier on the battlefield to obey commands to the letter, whether in mortal danger or not”. Such was our training that we could strip and assemble any weapon blindfolded, or recite backwards the principles of war or any other phase of soldiering life. On completion of our six-week initial phase, those who were considered to have no chance in life, became ‘wasters’ (guys who would be used as runners/messengers/general labour or for any menial tasks required to be done for anyone in authority) while waiting for the next recruits course to commence. Those types that had too many brains and not enough brawn to become ‘hairy-arsed commandos’ were packed off to other units to become administrators, pay clerks, medical orderlies, mechanics, signallers, cooks and the like. Those of us who had basically been too thick or idle to persevere at school had another eight weeks of this physical/mental abuse to endure—average guys I suppose one could call us. Although the harshness eased up slightly, we were still “little sh*tbags”—a little better than “f*cking useless c*nts-whose-mothers-never-loved-us”. So we’d come up in the world. One morning I was told to go up to the quartermaster’s stores to get a long weight. Being an obedient and robotic ‘half-trooper’, I immediately set off for the said stores and ‘weighted’. Being a recruit rendered one highly recognizable by the floppy bush hats we had to wear and I was sworn at by many for slouching around and “if you’ve got f*ckall to do, don’t do it here”. I was standing outside a door marked RQMS when this guy asked me what it was that I wanted. I told him that I’d been sent from Training Troop to get a

long weight. “Okay, wait here”—after standing around for four-and-a-half hours, this guy eventually told me they were out of stock, but asked whether I’d enjoyed my long wait. Small things amuse small minds … … As time went by, we became more robotic. The army had won—and we would turn left when commanded to do so, stop when told to halt, mark time on the right foot, take a check pace, cut the right arm in and commence marching on the spot—like treading water on terra firma. Whether a good thing or not, I felt I could step onto a parade square tomorrow and conduct a drill parade, such was our level of training, but lateral thinking is not for the common foot-soldier—he is there to obey orders, and that’s that. Then there was the assault course (about 20 minutes of sheer physical hell, just to mess one’s day up) consisting of about 20 obstacles seldom found on a battlefield, but meant to simulate likely battle conditions and basically designed to hassle you. These obstacles came in the form of ropes suspended 20 or 30 feet above the ground, 15-foot-high walls to surmount, requiring teamwork and a lot of ‘gentle persuasion’ from the instructors (“Come on, you idle little c*nts, if you don’t get a f*cking move on, we’ll do it again by moonlight tonight!”); there were barbed wire entanglements set just at the right height to prevent you from going under them without moulding yourself into the ground, concrete pipes to crawl through with recruits egged on by teargas liberally distributed by the instructors, to make you hurry up so they could go and have tea at the mess. At the end of all this was a rifle range, where we were expected to engage several targets to our front. (At this stage, half of us still didn’t know where our front was, let alone firing at and hitting targets.) In the weeks that went by, we slowly built up to a peak of fitness and wellbeing, culminating in an 80-mile march through the hills of Glendale/Bindura in the Masembura Tribal Trust Lands. We were divided into ‘sticks’ of five or so and dropped off at different points on the main Salisbury–Bindura road, given a destination to get to by nightfall and informed that if we didn’t make it, no nosh would be forthcoming—in fact we would be lost in Africa, as we only received notice of our following destination on arrival at the previous one, and thereafter the whole camp moved to the next location. So all the training that we had received over the last 12 weeks would come into play: map-reading, discipline, weapons training (we had been issued live ammunition ‘just in case’) and we marched forth into the hills. The area was not very flat, but if one utilized one’s brain (this has only dawned on me all

these years later), one could have made it easy on oneself, and others, by just studying the map and using the low ground to get to the various RVs. But I had been nominated stick leader of my particular group, and having been weaned in the bush and mountains, loved an incline, so made for the very tops of all the high granite domes in the area—radio communications were better from high ground anyway—much to the disenchantment of my colleagues. We liberated chickens from the locals, bought food and drink from the many rural stores and generally had a gas for five days, making our RVs each evening and moving on to the next checkpoint, until it was all over and we cleaned our bodies and had a good meal at the end of the final leg, moving back to barracks at 0500 the morning after completing what was supposed to have been an ordeal, but was in fact a break in the dull routine of camp life. We arrived back at barracks, were given half an hour to unload all kit, clean up and before we knew it were on the parade square—just to ensure we hadn’t forgotten any drill movements on our sojourn in ‘the sticks’. “Dig your heels in, don’t march on bent knees, tuck your elbows in, look up, swing your arms, don’t bend them at the elbows.” So much for just “shooting the left leg forward and bending the right knee”!

Above and below: Follow-up operation, Zambezi Valley.

Figure 8 boot-prints, ex-WWII US Army combat boots used by ZAPU insurgents.

The beauty of the Zambezi Valley.

ZAPU dead, Op Nickel.

We would now be entering the final phase of our initial training, which would be devoted to COIN (counter-insurgency) training, as the likelihood of us getting involved in a war of this type pretty soon was becoming more of a reality (the black nationalists had incited the majority to become more restless and civil disobedience was becoming more and more rife). Guerrilla warfare is a difficult one to handle, as we would find out in the years to come, and the Rhodesian Army had never really been put to the test, except with the odd bit of unrest in the early 1960s in the form of strikes and the occasional petrol bombing and politically inspired murder—but as far back as the late 1950s, there had been occasional unrest in Rhodesia. We began our ‘continuation phase’ in the lecture room, learning all about the principles of various aspects of bush warfare, including patrolling, fire and movement, identification of enemy kit and equipment, and likely enemy tactics. A lot of our staff officers had begun their soldiering days in Malaya, Borneo and Korea and we would employ similar tactics as had been tried there. In retrospect it didn’t work. Trial and error and playing things by ear would be the best way to learn, although basic military ground tactics will probably never change Training also included basic demolitions, field firing, watermanship, throwing live grenades, firing rocket launchers, mortars and rifle grenades, being fired at—so as to determine what type of weapon and at what range the enemy was—this last was sometimes quite hairy, as I’m sure some of the instructors who fired on us would have been happy to see some of us go back to our mommies in little boxes. But we were told that a 2% casualty rate was quite acceptable during training, so we just snivelled in the grass and guessed: “FN at 100 metres”, “AK at ten metres”, “60-mil mortar at 800 metres” and the like—as we laid in wait for that final bullet in the pip, exercising our colonic muscles, I thought of a bit of humour—a fart right next door could be a 25-pounder at 14,000 metres! We also carried out helicopter drills, which included learning NOT to run into the rotor blades and NOT to stick our rifle barrels through the Perspex “as it is f*cking expensive”. We carried out rope descents from ‘choppers’ and deplaning at heights of up to 12 feet—quite exciting stuff …

Operation Nickel

On the night of 1 August 1967, the first major incursion of armed insurgents occurred when a combined 79-man ZAPU and SAANC force crossed the Zambezi and landed at Bakota Gorge about 12 miles east of Victoria Falls. Seven days later, having mislaid ten members along the way, they based up on the banks of the Deka River in the Wankie Game Reserve. At dawn on the following day, they split up into their two originally planned groups i.e. 1) The Lithuli group—now numbering 48 men. This group set off to base up in the Tjolotjo area in the fork formed by the junction of the Nata and Tegwani rivers and 2) The Lobengula group—now numbering 21 men. This group made for Nkai where they could expect local help from some members of the Zimbabwe Church of Orphans. In addition there were two coloured men intent on a separate mission to South Africa. Both groups were tasked with recruiting and establishing base camps from where they were subsequently to launch attacks on white farms and police stations. The SAANC members would move on to South Africa where they would set up subversive movements in the Sekhukuneland bantustan in the Transvaal, and Zululand and the Transkei. Unfortunately for them, one of the members who had got lost earlier was captured in the hilly country near Lukozi Mission on the Wankie–Victoria Falls road by an RAR platoon acting on police information. Under interrogation, the captive disclosed the existence of the two insurgent gangs and Operation Nickel was launched. The operation was to prove significant in many respects. (Ron Reid-Daly considers Op Nickel and the later Op Cauldron to be ‘the most significant operations of the war’.) In the main, it resulted in the Rhodesian Army reviewing its counter-insurgency tactics and battle procedures. The incursion was initially (and mostly) countered by 1RAR who accounted for most of the insurgent fatalities. In their three major engagements with the enemy they were outnumbered. In the first two, their conduct was exemplary but in the third, a careless tactical error resulted in chaos and casualties. When it was realized that the troops were being engaged by superior numbers, the JOC accepted an offer by Army HQ of an RLI commando. 2 Commando drew the lucky straw. By 1700 hours on 25 August, the commando had arrived at their new position eight miles north of the Nata River. The JOC itself was re-positioned at Tjolotjo. By now it was realized that the insurgents had apparently penetrated security force positions; accordingly re-deployments were made on 31 August with E Company 1RAR instructed to patrol to the northwest, and south of the

Tegwani River. That same morning, an insurgent, Ncube by name, went to a kraal near the Tegwani to obtain food. An old woman invited him to stay. While the meal was being prepared, she sent a young girl to alert the security forces. Reacting swiftly, 2 Commando’s 7 Troop captured him at 0720 hours. The troop, commanded by Lieutenant Viljoen together with Lieutenant Ben ‘Masuku’ Schlacter’s 11 Platoon of D Company 1RAR, were then guided by Ncube to where he claimed his five comrades were based. With 7 Troop on the right of the track and 11 Platoon on the left, the insurgent hide was approached. As soon as Ncube pointed it out, the troops opened fire which was returned by the insurgents who also hurled a grenade. A two-minute fire fight followed during which Trooper Engelbrecht, the RLI MAG gunner, was wounded in the arm. Covered by 11 Platoon, a section from 7 Troop, skilfully using fire and movement with grenades, crawled forward and took the position, killing four insurgents. The fifth escaped and made it back to Zambia. A short time later, on 1 September, when some troops were in an ambush position, an aeroplane flew overhead, buzzed them and said that a tractor driver had been seen trying to signal something. Peter Mincher borrowed a Land Rover, set off down the road in the direction indicated by the pilot and soon found the tractor driver. The man was pleased that his signs had been followed up so quickly and handed the lieutenant £12 in Rhodesian currency, saying that the money had been given to him by 14 terrorists who had called at his kraal the previous evening.

“What do they want you to do?” asked Mincher. “They say I must buy some mielie meal for them and they will come back to the kraal again tonight.” A conference was held immediately and a big sweep was planned, involving all the RAR companies and 2 Commando whose job it was to move in on foot to a cut line (a tract which has been cleared of larger trees and heavier vegetation—a cut line will contain the normal growth of low bush and thick grass, but is as readily distinguishable from the air, as it should be on the ground. The line of demarcation approximates a firebreak). The tractor driver was carefully briefed and returned that evening with the mielie meal, while the troops moved out to form a cordon. Next morning the sweep began, with the soldiers moving down near the Botswanan border and in on the kraal. But the terrorists had eaten and gone. (The insurgents were actually 17 in number and were all SAANC members of the Lithuli group who then crossed the border into Botswana where they were arrested on 3 September.) Major John Cole (OC 2 Commando) was on overseas leave at the time Op Nickel began. He decided to return early—in time to witness his commando’s mopping-up operations. He said, ‘Op Nickel was an eyeopener. We had wondered how the chaps were going to shape up, but things

went like clockwork. I think it was my greatest moment with the RLI, after having bashed away at training for so long.’ Of the 79-man insurgent group, 29 were killed and 17 captured in Rhodesia; 29 were arrested in Botswana, where another one died. One was arrested in Durban and one escaped back to Zambia. One, mysteriously, remained unaccounted for. Operation Nickel was officially closed down at 0600 hours on 8 September 1967. Things were starting to get a bit more serious …

1 2

David Martin & Phyllis Johnson, The Struggle for Zimbabwe pp70-71, Faber & Faber 1981 The Struggle for Zimbabwe p83

References Geoffrey Bond, The Incredibles, Sarum Imprint, Salisbury, Rhodesia 1977 Dick Lockley’s recollections are from Lion & Tusk Vol. 2, No. 1, July 1990 Stu Taylor, draft Lost in Africa, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, due 2007 Dennis Croukamp, Only my friends call me “Crouks”: Rhodesian reconnaissance specialist, Pseudo Publishing, Cape Town 2006

Trooper Tony Coom (3 Commando), Zambezi Valley, 1967.

Operation Cauldron—baptism of fire The ZAPU hierarchy in Lusaka did not regard Operation Nickel as a setback. In fact, they were jubilant. After all, as far as they were concerned, the important thing was that they had inflicted fatalities on the security forces. There was now a need to impress upon their host, Kenneth Kaunda, that they were the superior ‘Zimbabwean’ nationalist party. Accordingly, they decided to mount an operation in northern Mashonaland. It would be undertaken by 100 men—75 ZAPU and 25 SAANC. The intentions of the insurgents, according to the operational report ‘… were to establish a series of camps in the Zambezi valley, extending from the Zambezi south toward the escarpment and the Sipolilo Reserve. In these camps, they would prepare underground caches to store food, clothing, arms, ammunition and explosives. Near the Sipolilo Reserve, a camp would be established from which sorties could be made to recruit local tribesmen for basic terrorist training in the other camps. After progress had been made in the Sipolilo area, detachments would be sent to the Mazoe valley and Mrewa areas where similar recruiting would take place. Once sufficient numbers of locals were trained and armed, headquarters in Lusaka would be informed that the terrorists were ready to stage a mass uprising by tribesmen in the affected areas; the date to be signalled from Lusaka to the terrorist commander. The aim of the uprising was to leave Britain with no choice but to intervene with force and put an end to it. The terrorists were briefed to avoid contact with Rhodesian security forces at all cost until the uprising was started. Thereafter they were to support the trained locals. Afterwards the SAANC terrorists were to be guided through Rhodesia to South Africa to start similar activities.’ In November 1967, a combined ZAPU/SAANC reconnaissance was conducted. This eleven-man gang crossed the Zambezi and, marching directly southward, reached a hill near the Chigusa River. Reporting back, it was concluded that a safe crossing place was at the confluence of the Zambezi and Chewore rivers. In preparation for the mission three bases or staging posts were established in Zambia. The 100 men that were selected for the operation assembled at Kaluwa camp east of Lusaka where they were briefed, armed and kitted out. One of their number, a native of Sipolilo, was to act as guide. On the night of 28 December, the advance party of 34 men, plus a supply

platoon were ferried across the Zambezi in canvas canoes and inflatable rafts. The group made its way to a point near the Makuku River where it established a camp known as Base Camp 1. The supply platoon now busied itself ferrying supplies across from Zambia. On the nights of 3, 4 and 5 January, the outstanding 66 insurgents, including their commander, Moffat Hadebe, crossed over. From Base Camp 1 they moved to Point B which became Base Camp 3. They intended to use this as a training camp for locals recruited from the surrounding Sipolilo, Mazoe and Mrewa areas. Food was short so they resorted to culling game, chiefly elephant and zebra. When this had been shot out, they established a further camp, Base Camp 4, at Chirambakadoma Hill (‘the forbidden mountain’ in Shona). Later still a further camp, Base Camp 5, was set up near the escarpment in a loop of the Maura River, not far from the confluence of the Angwa and Mkanga rivers. All cadres were furiously busy conveying supplies and concealing them in caches. By 14 March, the undetected insurgents had been in the country for over two and a half months. On the morning of that same day, David Scammel, a game ranger operating from the wildlife department’s Lower Hunyani base, came across boot prints of an unfamiliar pattern. The tracks were on a wellworn path near the Uti River. The path was as wide as a ‘four-lane highway’ and it led to Chirambakadoma Hill. It had been created by large numbers of insurgents carrying supplies to and between the base camps. When Scammel then found the remains of a sugar packet bearing Russian lettering, he reported the matter to the police and so commenced Operation Cauldron. The appropriately named Cauldron was to be the crucible in which the fighting character of the RLI was forged. The RAR had been tested in Burma and Malaya. The RLI could not lay claim to any such illustrious past or tradition. Operation Cauldron changed all that. It revealed to the world what outstanding and peerless anti-terrorist fighters the RLI were and it was from Cauldron that they were accorded the soubriquet of ‘The Incredibles’. A JOC was established at Karoi on 16 March. Two platoons of E Company 1RAR, based up at Chirundu, were diverted from their normal border-control ops to investigate the area of the tracks. 3 Commando 1RLI was on its way from Mtoko where the battalion had been engaged on Exercise Spider Web. Second Lieutenant Ron Marillier’s 14 Platoon of E Company had found tracks. They were joined by 3 Commando’s 13 Troop led by Second Lieutenant Chris ‘Dumpy’ Pearce and a BSAP patrol.

Pearce later recalled: … We set off, Ron’s RAR troop and mine, which consisted of only about 12 men at that stage and we went pretty slowly as the trackers were having difficulty. Then we came to a big terr resting place, which was empty so I decided that we really must push on or we’d never catch these guys. I put my men in front because, being the smaller force, we could move more quickly and Ron would be able to deploy under our covering fire. We must have covered 16 or 20 miles that day. We followed up almost until last light, then I told Ron to site our base. I then went and found a nearby bush and was violently sick …1 (Pearce later clarified this: ‘This was due to heat fatigue. I had been too busy sending radio reports and plotting our locations to bother to eat that day. Eric Saul, the BSAP member-in-charge of Chirundu who was with us controlling his two BSAP trackers, gave me a sachet of Alka-Selzer. I was fine within the hour.’) Of that day Dennis Croukamp, then a lance-corporal and a section commander in 13 Troop wrote: … For me, the excitement of the chase kept me on a permanent high. This love of excitement of going into combat would stay with me throughout my career. I do believe one becomes addicted to one’s own adrenaline rush and that is why there is the love of taking risks. I was also putting into practice a fairly new skill I had been trained to do. I had recently completed a second tracking course at Kariba and was gaining further experience watching and talking to the old tracker who was assigned to us. Whenever I was on point I would walk next to him and ask him questions. Eventually he would point out and explain things without me asking him.

The terrain had been a mixture of fairly open ground varying from mopani vlei to very thick bush on the river lines. A problem so late in summer was that all the grass seed was ripe, which created a hassle by clinging to our socks and blankets. Another problem was mopani flies, tiny midge-like creatures that would swarm all over us looking for moisture, especially when we stopped. They would crawl into our ears, nose and mouth, and it was enough to drive one insane. This was a time of year I came to detest. That morning we came across a terrorist resting-place where we found a hand grenade, rounds of ammunition and some odds and ends of clothing and

a booby trap mechanism, pre-made for the terrs to quickly set up a booby trap. Although found in great numbers during Operation Cauldron, they were never put to use against us … The rest of the battalion and C Squadron SAS moved into the area on the following day. Police deployment consisted of two PATU (Police AntiTerrorist Unit) sticks and a PRAW (Police Reserve Air Wing) aircraft. The Air Force deployed three helicopters and two fixed-wing aircraft, a Trojan and a Cessna. Initial foot patrols found further evidence of insurgent activity. At this stage it was believed that about 40 insurgents were involved. On 18 March, a further 26 men, carrying supplies and a replacement radio receiver, crossed over and reported to Base Camp 2. On the morning of this same day, the first encounter occurred. Nowhere is this better described than in the operational report itself: … A four-man tracking team from the SAS with 14 Troop, 3 Commando had been following terrorist tracks for three days and on the morning of 18 March, had reached the area of Mana Pools on the Angwa River. At 0730 hours the SAS tracker team, which had been scouting ahead, returned and told the troop commander, Lieutenant A. G. (Bert) Sachse, that tracks of approximately ten terrorists were present on a gravel road about three miles away. On reaching the area Lieutenant Sachse deduced that the tracks were no more than two hours old. He followed them for about a mile then heard voices to his front. After deploying his troop, he moved forward to sweep the area. The trackers opened fire at a terrorist who had spotted the patrol. The other terrorists, 12 in all, were taken by surprise and scattered to find good firing positions below the crest of a hill. They brought heavy automatic fire to bear on the troops. The radio operator, Trooper D. H. Woods, was hit in the throat by a piece of shrapnel, but was not seriously hurt and so continued to fight. Lieutenant Sachse sent half his troop round to the left to try and cut off any terrorists heading toward the river below and in the meantime, directed fire on to an RPD machine gun which was engaging him. He finished off the machine gunner with a well-placed Energa rocket. While the half-troop was moving to the left, the men were fired upon by a terrorist sniper and Trooper E. N. F. Ridge was killed. The sniper was then himself killed. Lieutenant Sachse went down the hill to recall the cut-off group, re-deployed them in a sweep position and started to sweep down the slope. The terrorists again opened fire, wounding Trooper C. J. Swanepoel in the left thigh. Before the sweep started, the terrorists’ heads were being

kept down by 14 Troop’s MAG gunner firing into obvious hiding places. During the actual sweep, other cover was cleared by grenades. Having completed the sweep, Lieutenant Sachse sent search parties back to look for terrorist bodies. He attended to Trooper Swanepoel’s wound and had him evacuated by helicopter as soon as practicable. Five men from Commando HQ arrived with the helicopter to reinforce the troop and at this time more shots were fired by terrorists ahead of the swept area. Lieutenant Sachse withdrew his soldiers and asked the pilot of a Provost aircraft, Flying Officer A. E. Smit, which had been circling the area, to soften up the terrorists. In this, he was assisted by machine gun fire from an armed helicopter (Flying Officer M. F. McLean) which accurately placed heavy fire some 15 yards ahead of the soldiers as they again swept forward. Two terrorists were killed in this action and Trooper Koekemoer was shot in the hand and arm. A count of bodies revealed that ten terrorists had been killed. Afterwards Lieutenant Sachse paid tribute to the excellent close support given by the Provost and the helicopter, without which he is certain that he would have incurred more casualties to his own soldiers. Trooper Ridge was the fist member of the RLI to be killed by enemy action. Despite his death, however, it was a first-rate action in which Lieutenant Sachse’s leadership and the determination of his men achieved an extremely successful result … Regarding Ridge’s death, Lieutenant-Colonel Jerry Strong recalls: … I was ordered to take two sticks of 12 Troop, 3 Commando and go by vehicle to close proximity to the contact area and await helicopter pick-up in case further reinforcements were needed. As we arrived at the prearranged LZ, a chopper landed and I climbed aboard with my stick. As we approached the contact area, I saw Bert Sachse standing on a small island in the riverbed with a body lying next to him. We landed and I went and helped pick up the dead soldier and put him on the chopper. I immediately recognized him as Trooper Ridge. He had been my fa*g at school (Plumtree) I couldn’t believe it. My fa*g was the first dead person I had ever seen. My blood boiled … At this same time, the owner of Tiripano Farm contacted the police to say that three men had arrived at the farm store, wanting to buy food. A police patrol from Mangula reacted immediately and all three were captured. Under interrogation, one of them revealed that about 100 insurgents were involved. This interrogation led to the capture of a further three in the same area. These

six were part of a 14-man group sent to the Mangula farming area to purchase food. On this same morning, Pearce and Marillier’s platoons, having slept on tracks, resumed their follow-up. At about 0800 hours they crossed a dry riverbed and found a deserted insurgent camp. Some kit was found along with a live grenade. A patch of urine was also found which the tracker estimated to be around two hours old. At about 1300 hours with 13 Troop in the lead, the men followed the tracks which led up the high bank of the Maura River. Here, Corporal Jannie Strydom, the forward-right section commander, volunteered to go on down the river to check out the situation. A sixth sense in Pearce caused him to deny the request. Dennis Croukamp and his section were on the left flank with Marillier’s RAR platoon about 20 metres to the rear. He writes: … I called Lieutenant Pearce on the radio and asked whether I should continue patrolling along the river, as there was a hill ahead with a cliff on the riverside up ahead of me. Lieutenant Pearce replied in the negative and said I should turn right and come up the hill with my section.

The Zambezi River at Kanyemba.

An RLI trooper on OP duties.

Two RAR private soldiers unwind during operations.

Transport hazards during the rainy season in the Zambezi Valley.

This in effect put me in a point position, coming in behind the tracker and forcing Jannie to go right of the tracks to avoid us all bunching up. With our hackles starting to rise, we now slowly followed the tracks up a small hill. The tracker, a fairly old man, really started to get excited and displayed a lot of nervousness, stooping and trying to look ahead, at the ground and at me all at the same time. The ascent at first was fairly steep but gradually the terrain was starting to flatten out as we approached the summit of a small hill. The tracker had now gone down on his haunches. Moving the short distance to him with my rifle at the ready and as I started to ask what he thought, he took off down the hill as if the devil himself had intervened, narrowly missing taking me with him … Pearce continues: … I can remember there was this big baobab and we were going on up the bank, when all hell broke loose. How we didn’t take casualties I don’t quite know. I was slightly in the rear and when the firing started my mind went automatically into the drill and I ran forward. I got hold

of the choppers and put my boss in the picture through them. I said we were managing to sort it out. We put down fire and threw grenades. Dennis Croukamp was up at the front and his section was very heavily pinned down. They were trying to get to their machine gun, but the terr bullets were so close that they must have almost felt the percussion as the shots hit the ground … Lance-Corporal Croukamp crawled forward and threw two hand grenades, dropping down immediately to avoid the swarm of bullets that buzzed over his head, then radioed Pearce, “Listen, where are you?” Back came the crackling reply, “Hold your positions, we can’t support you.” By now the choppers were overhead. Pearce radioed Marillier, “Look, I’m in a tricky position here in the open. I can give you some covering fire. If you can hit the camp it’ll take some of the heat off us.”2 Croukamp continues: … The bloody bastards had been watching us from the time we had arrived at the river for our break and had all that time to set up this welcoming party for us. We immediately took cover and I then located my section by calling them in a low voice by their patrol number. I asked for casualty figures and they confirmed no one had been hit. I then re-positioned them and once they were, I gave a fire control order to watch and shoot. I was on the extreme left of my section. It appeared from the later interrogation of captured terrs that they had initially thought that because of a lack of reponse from us, we had all been killed. By the time we returned fire with the ‘watch and shoot’ fire control they were caught off guard, as they had started coming forward to inspect their handiwork; this caused their heaviest losses. I tried to go forward as I could only see a short distance ahead of me because of the slope of the hill, and I decided that if I moved uphill I would have a better view from a position where the ground flattened out. Every time I moved forward for a better look-see and passed a certain point, a burst of RPD light machine gun and AK fire would buzz past me, making my ears hum. Having sited the Section 2-inch mortar to cover the now-exposed river from our position in case they tried to break across it, I called the OC by radio and asked permission to engage the enemy with grenades. On receiving permission, I crawled forward and one after another I threw two grenades at the spot where I thought the RPD fire was coming from.

Under directions from the OC, Jannie and I then tried leapfrogging forward, carrying out a fire and movement manoeuvre, but every time beyond a certain point the barrage of enemy small-arms fire would be too great, forcing us to pull back a few metres onto low ground. Fortunately their rounds passed harmlessly over our heads. Our OC then called on the RAR to do a flanking movement to take the pressure off us … When Marillier approached the right flank and began to deploy his sections into favourable assault positions, he noted that they would have to cross over 200 metres of open ground. Nevertheless, he led his men forward in an attempt to close with the enemy while 13 Troop provided covering fire. As the platoon advanced, it came under a terrific hail of fire, killing Corporal Erisha and wounding PWO (Platoon Warrant Officer) Herod and Private Wilson. Marillier’s men got scattered over a wide area behind whatever scant cover was available and although some of them reached the forward edge of the insurgent positions, the attack was unsuccessful. Marillier was forced to order a withdrawal as he had lost combat control of his troops. He then began to crawl about the battlefield valiantly drawing fire upon himself in his efforts to ensure his men were clear of the area, particularly the wounded PWO Herod and his section who would not initially pull back. It was now 1430 hours and Pearce, observing Marillier’s withdrawal, ordered 13 Troop to do the same under covering fire from the armed helicopters and Provosts. ‘Before withdrawing,’ says Croukamp, ‘my OC asked me to mark the target with a phosphorus grenade so that the helicopter pilot could pinpoint the position and in turn mark the position for the fixed-wing aircraft. I’d had lots of practice with phosphorus grenades by now. Crawling forward to a point much farther than before, I lobbed the grenade as far as possible into the enemy position and high-tailed it out of there with what seemed a zillion hornets after me.’ A heavy air strike was then carried out by two Vampires and two Canberras whose earlier circling, the insurgents admitted later, demoralized many of them into deserting, including Moffat Hadebe, their overall commander who watched the air strike from a point 600 metres southwest of the camp. The aerial bombing was so ineffective that the only casualties were 13 Troop. Six men were badly injured by shrapnel, among them Trooper Mike Barrowman from Croukamp’s section and co*cky Binks, a friend of Croukamp’s. Sergeant Baker was concussed. Here Croukamp

mentions a typical example of a tactless troopie’s thoughtlessness when, walking over from the other section came Trooper Mannie Loots who, looking at Barrowman observed, “Look at that wound, do you think he is going to live?” The big-boned Barrowman visibly paled. He did, however, survive the wound which was to his backside.

Above; The road down the Zambezi Valley escarpment. Below: Elephants added an interesting dimension to the conflict—for both sides.

Above: Kariba Dam wall, the scene of ongoing tensions between Rhodesian and Zambian troops. Below: National Parks’ rangers on patrol at Mana Pools on the Zambezi River. Parks rangers played an important role during the early ZAPU incursions, picking up spoor and tracking the enemy.

Another right-flanking attack was then attempted by 14 Platoon and half of 13 Troop under covering fire from the rest of 13 Troop and the BSAP patrol. It failed as control of 14 Platoon was again lost and it was getting dark. The following morning, reinforced by elements from Commando HQ and the commando 2IC, Captain ‘Spike’ Powell, the men advanced but found the enemy position abandoned. One dead insurgent was found and a vast amount of kit, including 28,000 rounds of ammunition. Tracks leading out of the camp

were followed, heading toward the rough country of the Zambezi escarpment. Stop groups were placed in ambush positions over all likely routes. One of these, at midnight on the 19th, succeeded in capturing a lone insurgent who turned out to be the SAANC group’s political commissar. He had become separated from his group and got lost after the air strike. Still on follow-up, 11 and 12 Troops continued on spoor. At mid-afternoon on the 20th they came across a small base camp where five packs were found. Following tracks out of this camp and up a gully, they suddenly came under RPD fire. A grenade was also thrown at them. 12 Troop commander, Second Lieutenant Jerry Strong, quickly deployed his men around the gully upon which two insurgents stood up with their arms raised in surrender. It transpired that they too were fugitives from the bombing at Camp 5. As they were being evacuated, fire emanated from the other side of the gully. A search was quickly made and tracks found but failing light precluded a follow-up. Meanwhile, from Camp 5, Pearce’s 13 Troop had been flown toward the escarpment following the possible escape path of the fugitives. Croukamp recalls: … On our second day of searching Jannie Strydom, leading Section 1 at point, suddenly gave the signal for all of us to stop. After taking cover he gave the thumbs-down signal indicating that there were terrs ahead of us. Then calling the OC by radio, in a whisper, he gave his sitrep (situation report) that there were approximately five terrs about 30 metres ahead of him. In fact, by now, we could all hear the terrs talking. It was the terrs talking that had alerted Jannie. I was happy that I knew their position and asked the OC if he would like me to do a left-flanking attack. His reply was in the affirmative. This was also in a whisper over the radio. Getting up and moving to the left flank of the arrow-head formation, I indicated to my section to follow me. Running one behind the other to a point 50 metres at right angles to the terr base and away from Section 1, I stopped. Half the section moved past me until I was again in the centre of the assault line. Up to this point we had been silent and from the talking coming from the terrs they apparently did not yet know that we were there. I then requested Jannie to give us covering fire and we started the advance in extended line toward the terr base and opened fire. In order to give maximum firepower and combining with Jannie’s fire control order, I shouted “Bullets!” in a loud voice every two or three paces. At each shout of “Bullets!” everyone stopped, aimed into a likely enemy

position and fired. After the excessively high firing at Camp 5 and having discussed the problem with our troops, the firing into likely enemy positions to me seemed and felt better. I did no firing myself but shouted the order for bullets and kept the assault line going evenly. When about twenty paces from the terr position one of the terrs started shouting “Surrender!” I called a halt to the firing and we allowed him to stand up and come forward. He informed us that the other three terrs also wanted out, but that they could not stand as they had been wounded. Jannie’s original estimation of five insurgents was not too far out. Once the camp had been cleared and secured, we established that these terrs were from Camp 5 and had run away from the bombing … Of Pearce, Croukamp says: ‘… the best troop commander I ever worked for and who, in his quiet unassuming way, taught me the skills needed to command troops mostly by example, getting the best out of his NCOs and troopers.’ By now rumours and far-fetched stories that ‘something was going on’ were circulating nationally. This obliged the OCC to release a press communiqué. The insurgent high command in Lusaka, realizing that presence of their men had been detected, immediately ordered the final group of 26 to return to Zambia. This group, plus five others picked up along the way, began to make their way back. They reached Camp 2 as they heard a security force patrol approaching. This was actually an SAS patrol which, having discovered Base Camp 1, was following tracks leading to Base Camp 2. The insurgents held their fire until the SAS patrol was right in their midst and then fired at extremely close range. Incredibly, there were no security force fatalities, though Trooper Thoroughgood suffered a bullet graze across his forehead. The SAS were more accurate. They opened up and killed three who turned out to be SAANC. During the fire fight, Trooper Junner incurred a back wound. The radio transceiver and 26 packs were recovered. On the morning of the 22nd, the SAS contacted a group of ten and killed one. Also on that day, a police PATU stick from Sinoia found tracks of two near the Mkanga River Bridge. They ambushed the bridge and when the two insurgents appeared, they opened fire and killed one. By the 23rd, Base Camps 3 and 4 had been found and were being ambushed. At 0900 hours, Lieutenant W. M. ‘Womps’ Thompson had his 8 Troop, 2 Commando in ambush position at Camp 4, saw two insurgents approaching and opened fire, killing one. Staying in position, 8 Troop nearly

got another kill on the next day when the sentry spotted an insurgent coming toward the camp. He must have suddenly become suspicious as he took off at high speed, followed by a belated burst of MAG fire from the sentry. At first light on the following day, the men of ‘Dumpy’ Pearce’s 13 Troop were moving down a steep bank of the Maura River when they heard voices. Moving forward in extended line, they went on the attack with the troop’s left flank sweeping around in a pincer movement. One insurgent was killed and a further two surrendered, one of whom had sustained leg wounds. All three, fugitives from the Camp 5 bombing, were unarmed, lost and starving, having not eaten for a week. At 1300 hours on the 26th, Thompson’s 8 Troop, still in ambush at Camp 4, heard a shot to the northeast. Moments later, three further shots, much closer now, were heard. A section under Corporal Piet van der Riet went out to investigate and, near a track junction by a river, saw two insurgents coming over a hill. Van der Riet quickly deployed the section into ambush positions. The two insurgents then briefly vanished from sight as they moved along the riverbed. Suddenly one of them, who appeared to be examining the ground, pulled aside some bushes and looked straight at the ambush. LanceCorporal Watson let loose with his heavy-barrelled FN at the fleeing man who had dropped his weapon and appeared to have been hit. He was next seen crawling up the opposite bank and Watson again fired at him. The second insurgent then appeared and was seen to squat down near the first. Van der Riet fired at him in the fast-fading light. The following day both were found dead, ten metres from each other—victims of the two NCOs’ snappy shooting.

Coom defacing a baobab, left is Jimmy Jamieson and at right Pete McNeilage.

Chris Miller, sitting on the bonnet of a Land Rover.

Keith Bartlett carrying a heavy-barrelled FN.

Dennis Croukamp who was awarded a Bronze Cross for his part in Op Cauldron.

Above: (from left) Clive Evans, Jannie Venter and Clive Larrett.

On patrol in the Zambezi Valley, standing is Ian McCairns, seated left is Cpl. van der Mescht and lighting up is Sgt. Hardman.

Wally Ferreira (far right) issues instructions while unloading an ammo trailer.

On the 26th a captive revealed that Hadebe had split his remaining men into four sections, all heading for Sipolilo by different routes. At Sipolilo, they were to link up with another group of 16 men. Acting on this information, patrols were intensified in the Mangula area. Patrols and ambushes were to continue in the Zambezi valley in the hope of cutting off any infiltrators attempting to return to Zambia. Meanwhile the captive agreed to lead a patrol back to his camp where six of his comrades were based up. This base was surrounded by open vlei (marsh), which provided a commanding view of a farmhouse that PATU units were using as a base. An attack plan was devised. In the operational report: … A patrol of 21 members of 1RLI Training Troop under Lieutenant R. F. Reid-Daly, the Training Officer, was briefed to carry out the assault and 14 members of PATU were made available as stops. (Ian Buttenshaw later observed that the 21 members from Training Troop were a squad due to pass out two weeks later but were passed out earlier for the deployment.) Lieutenant Reid-Daly’s

plan was to de-bus about a mile from the camp and lead the assault group himself, while two other sections of the 1RLI patrol moved forward on the left and right to catch any terrorists fleeing from the camp in those directions. The PATU unit was to be used in stop positions forward of the farmhouse … As they neared the de-bus point, Reid-Daly noticed that the guide was very nervous. When questioned, he said that the de-bus point would be in full view of the insurgent camp which was on the left. Driving on and hoping that the game hadn’t been given away Reid-Daly realized that, as the camp was a mile and a half from where it was thought to be, the PATU stops would be ineffective. Halting farther on, he briefed his men on the change of attack plan. They moved on toward the camp through a maize field. At the edge, he saw that the patrol was too far left of the enemy camp which was near an anthill. He deployed Colour Sergeant Tony Pretorius’ section as cut-off stops to the left. He then went on the attack, using half of his own section and Corporal Chris Gough’s right section. Coming up to the anthill, he saw two insurgents and heard weapons being co*cked. He opened fire and the section went to ground. An insurgent came around the anthill and Gough shot him dead. The sections now charged forward, overrunning the enemy camp, but catching only distant glimpses of the fleeing insurgents who vanished into the thick bush. Reid-Daly then organized a sweep of the area, preparatory to mounting a follow-up. As the troops swept forward, an insurgent concealed in the jesse opened fire on them and Trooper R. A. Binks and Trooper G. D. Wessels were killed. The insurgent himself made good his escape. Darkness was falling, making any immediate follow-up impossible. The next day, the follow-up, using a tracker dog, found a pack and a hand grenade. The trail was then lost. However, on the 27th, a PATU stick captured two wounded insurgents in Reid-Daly’s contact area. 2 Commando’s 8 Troop (Lieutenant W. Thompson) was still manning ambush positions at Base Camp 4. One ambush was sited at the water point and another at the camp itself. On the evening of the 27th, the sentry at the camp, Trooper Frederiksen, saw an insurgent coming up the path and opened fire on him. The man bolted and an immediate search failed to locate him. In the early hours of the 28th, shots were heard, coming from behind the waterpoint ambush site. An instant-light grenade was fired, revealing an insurgent in the prone position. Corporal Eigner opened fire and killed him. This man turned out to be the insurgent Frederiksen had shot earlier and who had

crawled away to lie up. He had obviously gone down for water, and, finding someone in front of him, had fired his rifle. On the evening of 27th, 3 Troop of 1 Commando under Sergeant Botha, and guided by an African tracker, were on the spoor of two. Having been resupplied, the patrol continued the follow-up until last light when they based up for the night. Continuing at first light, they came on difficult terrain where they lost tracks. Moving forward with the tracker trying to relocate the spoor, Botha came up to a large tree and was about to kneel down to examine the ground when he heard the click of a weapon to his left. Whirling about, and in a superb feat of snap-shooting, he fired at an insurgent who was loading a magazine in an RPD, and killed him with two rapid bursts. Without pausing, he shot and killed a second insurgent alongside the first, as the man was in the process of pulling the pin out of a grenade. Later that day, a terrorist was captured by game scouts near the Zambezi. At this stage, in one way or another, 28 insurgents had been killed and 15 captured. Security forces also had other unwitting allies. On the 26th, the body of an insurgent, wounded in 14 Troop’s contact of the 18th, was found partially eaten by a crocodile. Later still, one insurgent was killed and eaten by a lion. The following day, 29 March, police captured an insurgent near Mangula and that afternoon a PATU stick killed one of two insurgents 15 miles northwest of Doma. In this skirmish, police reservist Honey was wounded. Later that evening, C Troop of C Squadron SAS was in ambush position at Base Camp 1. At 1845 hours, a group of ten insurgents walked into the camp. In the operational report: … The sentry, Trooper Blackburn, opened fire on the terrorists and then lay low for the rest of the night. An NCO panicked and shouted to the three other members of the ambush party to run. He himself fled as did another trooper. The only member of the party who appeared to show any determination whatsoever was Corporal P. Woods, a member of the Territorial Force undergoing a voluntary secondment to the SAS. He remained in position, fighting a lone battle against the terrorists for some five hours. The next morning, the body of a dead terrorist was found and it was learned later, that two others had been wounded …

Troopers on the alert from their bivvy, Zambezi Valley.

A five-man RLI patrol sweeps through mopani woodland in the Zambezi Valley.

A kraal headman captured two insurgents on the next day, 30 March. One tried to escape from police escort and was shot dead. At first light on the following day, a six-man section from 1 Troop, 1 Commando under Sergeant G. E. Byrne which had been ambushing a track thought to be a likely insurgent route, were packing up to leave when Byrne saw five armed men 25 metres to his front. When he realized that they were not members of the police, his section opened fire and killed one man. The kill rate would have been much higher had the ambush not been lifted so early. It later transpired that the group comprised Hadebe and his hardcore comrades. The following day, 1 April, 6 Troop, 2 Commando (Lieutenant S. J. Coetzee) having just relieved 8 Troop at the ambush at Base Camp 4, killed a lone insurgent walking up the path to the camp. It seemed as if, having seen 8 Troop being uplifted, the man believed that the security forces had left the area. This assumption cost him his life. The OC of the SAS, Major Dudley Coventry, and Corporal Moore were passengers in a chopper piloted by Flight Lieutenant Harvey on a routine resupply near Base Camp 3 on 2 April, when they saw an African waving at them frantically from the ground. The helicopter landed and Moore deplaned, following the African as Harvey took his aircraft back into the air. The air tech, Corporal Ness, then saw a lone insurgent running through the bush. He opened fire with the chopper’s mounted machine guns, hitting the man in the legs. Approaching from the LZ, Moore shot him dead as he was offering resistance. That afternoon, at 1430 hours, Strong’s 12 Troop, 3 Commando, which had been following tracks for two and a half days, caught up with their quarry— three insurgents lying up in a gully. One man was killed in the initial contact. The other two, one of whom was wounded, fled. The wounded man was killed farther on. The chopper pilot spotted the third man and his tech, Aircraftsman B. Warren, killed him with a burst from the helicopter’s machine guns. Captures now began to occur everywhere. On 3 April, villagers captured one man near the Zambezi; another was caught by civilians four miles east of the Agricultural Research Centre near Chirundu; a third surrendered to SAS Lance-Corporal Chris Loots, a member of Colour Sergeant Danny Hartman’s patrol near Base Camp 1. A further man was literally ‘caught by hand’ by an AS (African Soldier), Private Musiyiwa of 10ST (Supply and Transport) Platoon, when he sneaked up and tried to recover a discarded tin of

condensed milk from the refuse pit at Dean’s Camp. By now, 60 insurgents had been accounted for—36 killed and 24 captured. On 4 April, five more were apprehended—two near Base Camp 3, two by locals elsewhere and one at Conway Farm, Doma. A vigilant white motorist on the main road saw a lone insurgent south of Makuti. He turned back and reported the sighting to Makuti police station and a patrol from 1 Troop, 1 Commando (Sergeant Byrne) went out to investigate. Sweeping the area, they flushed the man out and as he fled shot him dead. It now appeared obvious that the insurgents had scattered and were on the run. On the 7th, three SAS members, Corporal Moore, Corporal Carmichael and Trooper Hatfield picked up tracks of three near the river line about a kilometre from Kanyemba. Farther on, at the ruins of a village, they saw the insurgents on the riverbank. They crept up and opened fire, killing two outright and wounding the third whom they captured, though he later died of his wounds. Also on that day, 1RAR’s E Company captured a lone insurgent at Hell’s Gate, and at about midnight, villagers caught an armed insurgent west of Mangula. On the 9th, a PATU stick killed an insurgent with a grenade about 12 miles north of Doma, and the last contact with any sizeable group of insurgents occurred the following day. On the 8 April, a water bottle had been found 16 miles north of Karoi. Tracks of between five and eight men led from it, which were followed by the men of Nick Fawcett’s 4 Troop, 1 Commando and a PATU stick under Section Officer B. Marshall. A day later they found three enemy camps. At about 1330 hours on the following day, the 10th, they caught up with the insurgents who were hidden in flat grass in some prospectors’ diggings eight miles east of Karoi. There were seven of them. The patrol advanced with the two trackers in the lead covered by two PATU members and Troop HQ, which was flanked by an MAG section on each side. The remaining four PATU men brought up the rear. As they approached, they saw an insurgent sitting in a prospector’s trench 30 metres ahead. Going to ground, they began to leopard-crawl forward through sparse cover. Some 15 metres from the camp, an insurgent saw Fawcett and his signaller, both of whom opened fire. An intense 15-minute fire fight ensued as the cornered insurgents decided to die fighting. Their strategy was to fire short, well-aimed bursts and, between bursts, duck down into the trench. Both sides incurred fatalities—three insurgents were killed and Trooper M. E. Thornley suffered a fatal chest wound. Marshall was also

seriously wounded in the head and chest. Immediately after the initial fire fight, Fawcett sent his flanking sections to the right and left to seal off any possible enemy escape routes. There was a brief lull in the small-arms fire, during which both sides hurled grenades at each other somewhat ineffectually. With his flanking MAG sections now in position, Fawcett resumed the attack. The MAG gunners put in a withering crossfire on the enemy positions, after which the patrol charged forward, overrunning the camp and finding all seven insurgents dead. This had been a very successful contact despite the death of Trooper Thornley. In fact, friendly casualties could well have been significantly higher due to the difficult situation the patrol had been in. However, Fawcett’s clear leadership and direction, together with the determination shown by all members of the patrol, produced a fine result. Three days later, on the 13th, an SAS patrol led by Sergeant Joe Conway found tracks of two near the Tunsa River, which they followed. Farther along, the two insurgents mounted an unsuccessful ambush on the patrol. Both were wounded, one of them fatally, when Conway’s men returned fire. Five days later, a PATU stick killed an insurgent at Revonia Farm. On the next day, 19 April, three surrendered to a game ranger and a further two were killed the following day.

‘Pops’ Henwood radioes through a sitrep from the back of a Land Rover.

Above and below: Young soldiers of the Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR). The RAR played an integral role in Operation Cauldron and worked closely with the RLI. It was during Op Cauldron that the more experienced RAR soldiers came to accept the RLI as peers. (RAR troops were always immaculately turned out.)

Trooper Barney Barnard leads his 3 Commando patrol through the dense foliage of the Zambezi Valley.

Hadebe was still at large and had, inevitably, become the main target. Tracks of his group were found leading to Wira Hill where an initial search mounted on 10 April proved unsuccessful. However, on the 22nd, Special Branch stated that local residents in the area had reported the presence of at least three insurgents and that a youth had absconded with a bag of mielie meal, too large (nearly 100 kilograms) for him to carry unaided. As a result of this intelligence, a field tactical HQ was set up at Sipolilo and ambushes laid. Two days later, the youth was arrested and, when questioned, confirmed the presence of four insurgents whom he had been feeding since 6 April. As a result of the interrogation, the general direction of the insurgent camp was established. Lieutenant Garth Barrett and his 3 Troop, 1 Commando, guided by two civilian African trackers, set off to find it. The operational record reports: … Near a river junction in thickly wooded, broken country, the patrol picked up tracks about ten minutes old. The troop commander, Lieutenant G. J. M. Barrett, left the two trackers to look after the troops’ packs and the patrol continued down a re-entrant, expecting to come across the terrorists at any moment. At a stream junction, the right-hand section spotted four insurgents scrambling from their base camp and opened fire. The insurgents returned fire and fled up the hill. On clearing the area, the patrol found one dead insurgent and the other insurgents’ packs and equipment. A blood trail was discovered and a tracker dog, Deon, with his handler, Police Officer D. Horsten, was helicoptered in. The dog successfully followed the trail, and after about three quarters of a mile, flushed out the insurgent who was then shot and killed. An intensive search was mounted for the two surviving insurgents, but they escaped. However, both were later found … Eighty-nine insurgents had now been accounted for—51 killed and 38 captured. The last insurgent to be killed by security forces died on 29 April during an SAS follow-up and contact at the junction of the Wutini and Zambezi rivers. Mopping-up operations included the capture of Hadebe’s 2IC, Felix Nyandoro, and others. Dead bodies of previously wounded insurgents were also found. Beryl Salt, in her book A Pride of Eagles, provides us with the Air Force’s take on Operation Cauldron: … It was on the morning of the

following day, 18 March that the first contact was made with the enemy. This occurred in the Mana Pools area. A small patrol of 13 troopers of 1st Battalion, Rhodesian Light Infantry (RLI) and members of 1st Battalion Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR) were following tracks when they ran into a group of 14 ZAPU soldiers. An engagement ensued. No. 4 Squadron Diary records: ‘18 March. Provost was called in to a contact of eleven CTs (communist terrorists) and carried out a strike. Total killed during the engagement was eleven and one security force. During the afternoon, another contact was made and Provost, Vampire and Canberras were called in to strike at an estimated 100 CTs.’ During a follow-up, members of the RLI and RAR came under fire, at close range, from a well-armed group of over 60 men. The security forces had stumbled on Camp 5. The small army unit was pinned down in open ground by concentrated fire from rifles and machine guns. At the beginning of this contact, the only air support available was an unarmed Trojan, carrying out reconnaissance. Second Lieutenant Pearce, the commander of the army unit, called this aircraft up and requested air support, so that he could pull his men back. Mark McLean, piloting a helicopter, answered the Trojan’s call. Despite the fact that the two forces were uncomfortably close to each other, Mark mounted several attacks on the enemy position. Each attack was met by heavy automatic fire. These strafing runs enabled Second Lieutenant Pearce to pull his men back to safer positions. Following this initial contact, Mark remained in the area flying low over the enemy position to mark it with smoke grenades, drawing heavy ground fire onto his aircraft. He stayed in orbit to direct air strikes, which were carried out by No. 2 Squadron Vampires flown by Squadron Leader Bill Jelley and Flying Officer Prop Geldenhuys using squash-head rocket projectiles and 20mm cannon. This was the first occasion that No. 2 Squadron had fired a shot in anger and after years of training and innumerable stand-bys, the squadron was glad to have been blooded. A Canberra from No. 5 Squadron, piloted by John Rogers, also took part in the strike, using fragmentation bombs. This had a less happy conclusion because, owing to a misunderstanding, some bombs were dropped on security force positions, causing injury to two soldiers. As a result of this, the squadron’s technique for fragmentation bombing attacks was changed from medium to low level.

While the battle was still in progress, Mark McLean and his technician, Sergeant Butch Graydon, were called upon to evacuate five badly wounded men. The landing zone was close to the enemy position, which meant that considerable skill and courage were needed on the part of the helicopter crew. Having completed the evacuation, McLean returned to the contact area and gave valuable assistance to the ground forces, acting as their eye in the sky until darkness fell. For this operation, Flight Lieutenant McLean was awarded the Bronze Cross of Rhodesia. When the ground forces were finally able to move into the enemy camp, no bodies were found, although the area had been torn by bombs, and the trees were stained with blood. The dead and wounded had obviously been removed. After this attack the insurgents broke up into smaller groups, some making their way back along the line of bases toward the Zambezi, others continuing south into the Sipolilo area. Among the second group was the operation commander Hadebe, an Ndebele who was later captured in Mozambique. The air force squadrons stood by for another two weeks but were not called upon to take any further action. However, toward the end of the month, No. 3 Squadron did make leaflet drops into the operational area calling on the remaining ZAPU members to give themselves up or die. The four-page leaflet was in English and Shona and carried the photographs of two men, one dead because he resisted, and the other alive because he surrendered. Of the 58 combatants killed in the various actions, which were part of Operation Cauldron, 43 were members of ZAPU and 15 belonged to the SAANC (South African African National Congress).

Five-man stick helicopter drills.

RLI patrol on the banks of the Zambezi. The MAG gunner brings up the rear with weapon shouldered, indicating the lack of immediate danger.

The operation was terminated toward the end of May 1968 and the helicopters of No. 7 Squadron and the Trojans of No. 4 Squadron reverted to border patrol duties. There was one standby at the end of May when a group consisting of members of the South African PAC (Pan Africanist Congress) and a Mozambican nationalist organization skirted the eastern border, but did not enter Rhodesian territory. Four of these men were killed and ten captured, for the loss of three Portuguese soldiers, near Vila Pery in the Chimoio Province of Mozambique …

Operation Glove Operation Cauldron was officially closed on 31 May though Hadebe was still at large. This elusive character was nearly caught when on 20 June, tracks of four were found at Marangora Dam. This discovery led to Operation Glove, a footnote to Operation Cauldron, in which the subsequent follow-up led to a contact during which one of the insurgents was killed and a second captured. Two fugitives, one of whom was the wily Hadebe, escaped into Mozambique where his luck finally ran out when he was captured by the Portuguese. Group Captain Peter Petter-Bowyer writes: … I was at Kanyemba on another unrelated operation when a call was received from the Portuguese chef do posto at Zumboto saying he was holding Hadebe in a prison cell. One of our helicopters flew an SB man across the Zambezi to collect him. Like everyone else, I was very disappointed when Hadebe climbed out of the Alouette. He had obviously taken a beating, but otherwise was of medium height, scrawny and very ordinary in looks—nothing like the tough rebel leader we had pictured in our minds. Apparently, Hadebe had gone down the Angwa River and, once inside Mozambique, sought the help of locals to take him across the Zambezi River to the Zambian shore opposite Zumbo. This is where the Luangwa River, which separates Mozambique and Zambia, joins the Zambezi. The people agreed. When, however, Hadebe got into the canoe, he was laid low with a blow to the head and was bound up. Unknown to Hadebe, the Mozambicans knew that they had a reward coming to them from the chef do posto for handing over any live terrorist. When the locals told the chefe do posto of Hadebe’s coming for help, he gave them hell for letting the wanted man walk to the river, saying that he might have escaped. An old man

responded by explaining that he could see no sense in carrying Hadebe down to the river when he was fit to walk the long distance and wanted to go there anyway … Petter-Bowyer adds a further interesting point: …. Some time after Op Cauldron, there was a need to uplift large numbers of RAR and RLI soldiers from different locations and take them to their vehicle transport, sited at a single pick-up point. At the time, there were four helicopters available for the task, mine being one of them. I elected to undertake the RAR uplift with another helicopter, and tasked the most junior pilots to do the RLI uplift. This was an entirely selfish decision. All the troops had been in the bush for many days without having bathed or changed their clothes. The use of deodorants was forbidden because even the slightest scent would give the terrorists early warning of troop presence. It was for this reason that I had elected to collect the RAR soldiers. Experience had taught me that the smell of white soldiers is appalling after only one week without a bath, whereas the smell of black soldiers, in equal circ*mstances, was much easier to tolerate. The difference between black and white body odours was probably due to diet. For me, the smell of unclean black men is similar to that of rotting onions. With the passage of time, the intensity increases, but the basic odour remains the same. On the other hand, the smell of unclean whites varies from individual to individual, ranging from stale, sour milk to rotting meat. Collecting RAR was fine because I knew exactly what to expect and each man entering the helicopter smelled the same as the next. With white soldiers, I found myself retching from the foul stench that changed as each man came aboard; and no batch smelled the same as another! …3 After Glove, a further seven insurgents were accounted for—two captured and one killed in the later Operation Excess; two captured in South Africa; one taken by a crocodile while attempting to swim back to Zambia and one believed to have been killed and eaten by a lion in the Zambezi valley. Of the 126 insurgents who had crossed during Operation Cauldron, 58 were killed, 51 were captured and 17 were outstanding. Of these, nine managed to get back to Zambia and the remainder very likely died of wounds. During the entire operation, the young men of the RLI, many still in their teens, had behaved magnificently. Platoon Warrant Officer Herod of the RAR, who had been wounded in the contact of 18 March, when visited in hospital by Sergeant Baker, uttered the words which would forever be engraved on the regiment’s soul: “We of the RAR used to laugh at your

soldiers. To us they looked like boys. But they showed us how to fight. They have the faces of boys, but they fight like lions.”

Battalion organization and role Organized in commandos, the battalion was made up of a headquarters group, a base group, three commandos of approximately 100 men each and a support group. Support Group, until January 1976, was a sub-unit of Base Group and comprised two troops—Reconnaissance Troop mounted in Ferret scout cars, and Mortar Troop, armed with 81mm mortars. When deployed on operations and border control, they reformed as three infantry call signs 81, 82 and 83, leaving their specialist equipment in barracks. In the earlier years recruits were trained at 2 Commando. This function was later performed by Training Troop, a part of Base Group. In addition to normal military training, the men undertook courses in climbing/mountaineering, watermanship, demolitions, driving, first aid, signals (including Morse code) and tracking. Later, para-training was introduced. In the tradition of all light infantry, dating from Napoleonic times, the emphasis was on self-reliance and initiative. By 1968, all members were armed with FNs. ‘There were,’ recalls Chris Pearce, ‘two MAGs per troop and we only had the old two-inch mortar in those days (we fired one at Camp 5 on Op Cauldron). The 60mm mortar came much later.’

1968 Inter-Commando boxing championships. Alan Belstead at left slugs it out for the feather-weight title.

Above and below: RLI gymnasts.

The official role of the unit was defined as: • • • • •

military assistance to the civil power internal security operations, urban and rural (ISOPS) counter-insurgency operations (COIN) border-control operations. classical war operations (including later external commitments)

In classical warfare, the RLI’s tasks were laid out as follows: • to operate in small, self-contained patrols in any terrain by road or on foot for sustained periods by day and by night • the execution of rapid strikes by patrols against enemy targets in any type of country • to undertake deep-penetration patrols in enemy-dominated areas • to undertake long-range reconnaissance tasks • to operate from all types of land or water vehicles, helicopters and,

(later) troop-carrying para-aircraft • the collection of specialized military intelligence • the execution of demolition tasks • the execution of mobile defence operations. (This meant that the men of the RLI were not trained to ‘dig in and wait’, but, in the definitive commando role, to operate behind enemy lines in small groups.)

Tactics and kit Operation Cauldron and its predecessor, Operation Nickel, had produced valuable lessons. Both had revealed the efficiency of the infantry when aided by armed aerial support and the importance of follow-up tracking. After Operation Pagoda, during which an armed helicopter had been used, the Air Force hierarchy, with the high vulnerability of their fragile and irreplaceable helicopters in mind, decided that these aircraft were to be used in a purely support role. Their task was to convey troops into the battle area and uplift any wounded soldiers or captured insurgents. This decision was to prove impractical. Tracking was to evolve its own tactics too—during Cauldron, the enemy initially moved in two groups, i.e. a recce group followed by the main group. If the troops hit the recce group in the initial contact, the main group would ‘bombshell’, that is scatter to link up later at a pre-arranged RV. It was also a ploy to split the security forces into smaller pursuit groups. In a bid to counter this, RLI tracker-combat teams evolved a method known as leapfrogging. In essence this was to enable the pursuing security forces to catch up and close with the enemy much faster. If the trackers, on spoor, believed the enemy to be a long way ahead they would attempt to close the gap by leaving one stick on the existing tracks while the remainder was choppered ahead to locate fresher tracks. If found the stay-behind stick would be brought up and the follow-up resumed and the leap-frog tactic repeated as required. When using this method there was a requirement, if possible, not to alarm the enemy by landing too close to them as this could provoke various reactions, such as: • the enemy opening fire on the aircraft itself • bomb-shelling—an example of this is in the description of Operation Excess contained later in this chapter. On this occasion on 29 July

1968, leap-frogging troops from 2 Commando and Support Group landed too close to the concealed insurgents causing them to panic and scatter undetected • set up an ambush on their own tracks—during Operation Birch, the men of 1 Commando, in hot pursuit of a group of insurgents known as Gang 3, found their follow-up delayed by the discovery of several enemy ambush positions, which ultimately allowed the gang to escape Better communication technology was also evolving. In the debrief notes to the earlier RAR Operation Vermin of 19–30 November 1966, the efficiency of the light VHF A60 radio, produced in South Africa, was noted. For the Army the A60 put them on a par with other services. As a result of Operation Vermin the RAR experimented with and improved the set using a TV-type antenna which could be raised higher than the existing ‘Sputnik’ with a longer lead between antenna and set. The Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant Dobson, also devised a new code intended to speed up encoding and decoding. The manufacturers themselves made further improvements in line with Rhodesian Army specifications. The A60 had a range of up to 15 kilometres and was ideal for ground-to-air communication during the day. At night the security force call signs operating in the Zambezi valley relayed their sitreps (situation reports) to their JOCs via ‘Cloud Base’. Cloud Base was a relay station sited on the flat-topped Chirimbakadoma Mountain and manned by soldiers and signallers. It had a range of over 100 kilometres and to the isolated call signs manning night positions in the bush it was a source of great psychological comfort. By coordinating and relaying communications Cloud Base played a vital role during the entire war. Personal items of an infantryman’s equipment were also under constant review. Veldskoene (suede boots, from the Afrikaans ‘bush shoes’) were tried out as they were light and comfortable to wear. A second water bottle became standard issue because one was found to be totally insufficient with troops operating in temperatures of over 40°C and some distance from water supplies. The bottle itself had been improved—the former metal water bottle was not ‘ambush-proof’ as the cap often emitted a piercing squeak when being unscrewed while the cup produced a metallic grating on removal. The new issue was plastic.

Commando notes

1 Commando Border control operations in the Zambezi Valley continued to provide their share of boredom and excitement. Corporal ‘Chalkie’ van Schalkwyk beat a pride of lions back to base. The soles of his boots were reputedly still smoking two hours later. A brush with elephants certainly tested the presence of mind of Ronnie Tennis who stood stock still for some considerable time as a jumbo browsed all about him. 1 Troop’s Second Lieutenant Graham, an avid bird watcher, with notebook and pencil in hand led his patrols wherever the birds led him. The troop must have been constantly alerted to “Look you guys—there’s a carmine bee-eater. Very rare in this area you know. Must find where they are nesting.” or “Hmmm … a paradise flycatcher. Where’s he headed …?”

Makuti Base, situated on the Zambezi escarpment.

3 Commando troopers clear a shack while on patrol.

An International 1.5 tonner negotiates a swollen river.

The scene where the first South African policeman was killed. The guerrillas were in ambush under the rock overhang.

A Thames Trader truck crosses a temporary bridge.

3 Commando On 6 June, the commando performed a very successful troop battle drill demonstration for the GOC. They also underwent rock-climbing training at the appropriately named Balancing Rocks. This was concluded with an initiative exercise to see who could get back to camp in the shortest time, excluding hitchhiking. 13 Troop, led by Lance-Corporal Mike Barrowman, won the event in an exciting finish. In mid-year the commando held its bi-annual ‘thrash’ to bid farewell to their OC Major Hugh Rowley and Colour Sergeant ‘Wishbone’ MacMahon, both leaving on posting to other units. Support Group Various members of Support Group returned from a two-and-a-half-month mortar course at the School of Infantry. There, under the patronage of Captain G. P. Engela who kept everyone on the hop, they kept the midnight oil burning by trying to fathom out the bewildering list of names used to describe an 81mm mortar and its operation (rotating-head-raising-knob etc.). They had no sooner mastered this than they were told, “You aint learnt nothing yet. Just wait until you do the V19PA fuse!” Then came the Part 1 shoot at Kutanga Range—designed to tie in the tasks of the fire controller, plotting board operator and mortar numbers and see their results on pre-selected targets. Overall, and to the surprise of the course candidates the shoot was an outstanding success as several targets were actually hit … The semi-tactical Part 2 shoot went off without incident … almost. Due to a combination of under-estimation, wind and inaccurate map-reading a salvo of bombs landed not far from the anthill behind which crouched Engela, WO2 Nigel Galvin and Colour Sergeant Lou Hallamore. All three were seen scurrying here and there in their efforts to dodge the falling bombs! Captain Engela was observed, hours later, to be still biting his upper lip nervously … Further practice followed both in the classroom and in the field—fire controlling, link shooting, fire planning etc. The course culminated in the live shoot Part 3 at Kutanga where students were tested in both defence and attack with a full platoon of mortars, the grand finale coming when all six mortars fired at a rapid rate for a minute in the attack.

Operation Flotilla

On 16 April, 17 armed men left Lusaka by vehicle down the Great East Road to the Fort Jameson area near the Malawian border where they infiltrated into Mozambique in the vicinity of Vila Gamito in the northwest corner of the Tete Province. Twelve of them were members of South Africa’s Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) whose headquarters were in Dar es Salaam, while the remaining five were all Coremo (Mozambique Revolutionary Committee). By the evening of 20 May, they had reached Catumbula, a village to the north of Rhodesia’s Mtoko Tribal Trust Land. Here, their presence was betrayed to the Portuguese Army which sent out a patrol to investigate. The following day, the patrol had an inconclusive fire fight with the insurgents who fled, splitting into two groups of nine and eight respectively. One group headed south, the other southwest. The Portuguese relayed this information to the Rhodesians who set up a JOC at Nyamapanda on the 23rd and so started Operation Flotilla. 1 Commando (Major Peter Rich) began patrolling that same day, finding tracks of six along the northern bank of the Mazoe River. The follow-up was abandoned when it became apparent that the group was not heading for Rhodesia. At midday, Portuguese troops had a fire fight with the nine-man group. Though there were no casualties on either side the insurgents fled, leaving all their kit behind. Locals then informed the Portuguese security police (PIDE) that the fugitives were making for Masanga store on the Ruenya River near the Rhodesian border. As no sightings were reported over the next few days, 1 Commando and the chopper returned to base on 28 May. Between 30 May and 2 June, the Portuguese captured two insurgents and on 6 June at Vila Pery they ambushed four of the group, killing three and wounding one man who managed to escape. Of the group of eight, the four Coremo members decided to head back north. When they reached the Zambezi, there was no boat available. One of them decided to swim across and was drowned. Seeing this, and suitably dismayed, the other three turned and, leaving their weapons behind, crossed into Rhodesia near the Musengezi Mission and made their way to Riodora Farm where one of them had previously worked. One of his relatives reported his presence to the police and all three were arrested. Another three were captured in Rhodesia and the outstanding insurgents were dealt with by the Portuguese. Flotilla had proved unexciting for the RLI, which then resumed training and normal border-control operations.

Meat patrol Stu Taylor, who started his 13-year-long RLI career as a driver, records this story: … As time went on and the powers-that-be decided the order of the day; it transpired that each commando would have its own drivers—to be attached to the unit—this was a good plan, as it would enable drivers to become more involved with the troops on the ground and for them to be absorbed into the system instead of being listed as ‘outsiders’ each time they were assigned to a particular sub-unit. We basically had a choice as to which driver we would like to have attached to which unit, and given that the particular troop accepted you; you became that particular troop’s driver. I had had some very pleasant bush trips with 14 Troop, 3 Commando, and it was to this troop that I was assigned. It was at this relatively late stage in my army life that I would begin to identify with the life of a soldier—about halfway through 1968, just over a year into my service. I volunteered for foot patrols and any other duties that the ground troops had to perform, and basically became one of them, as well as their driver. This particular troop did not have a commissioned officer and I drove for the acting troop commander, a sergeant, for a few bush trips, until a newly commissioned officer from the School of Infantry took over the troop, and I became his driver. I was soon familiar with most of the roads, gullies and waterholes from Kanyemba in the east to Kariba in the west, and back to the escarpment, 40-odd kilometres on an average, from the Zambezi.

C/Sgt. Wood with the MAG on fixed-lines in ambush position.

Convoy running repairs.

Corporal Powell on kitchen duty.

From left: Sgt. Hans Liebermann, 2Lt. Johnny Dawson, 2Lt. Don Price and WOII Al Tourle

Stu Taylor, doing what he does best, digging a longdrop.

We had many very enjoyable bush trips, mainly dedicated to the making of biltong, as this new troop officer was a poacher from hell and shot virtually anything that moved. On one occasion, I was assigned to take a section of guys from where we were based in the escarpment, down to the Zambezi, to the base camp of a contingent of South African Police, to warn them of a pending attack on their camp from the Zambian side. Another vehicle was dispatched on a ‘meat patrol’ so we could have some fresh meat as well as make some biltong to take home at the end of the bush trip.

All thoughts of the ‘war’ a few months previously were conveniently pushed to the backs of our minds and we had resumed our old habits—our forces had had such a resounding success against those ‘dastardly natives’ who were determined to spoil our lives, that they wouldn’t come back for a long time. As things turned out, on our return, we saw the biggest kudu bull any of us had ever seen and this was an opportunity not to be missed, so it was shot and loaded onto the vehicle and we proceeded back to the base. Little did we know that the official ‘meat patrol’ had also met with some success and had bagged the second biggest kudu we had ever seen in our lives—so we had a big task ahead of us in butchering these two magnificent beasts. What made our task a little more difficult was that in our absence, the OC of the commando had come up on air and announced that he would be visiting the troops in the field and would be spending that very night with our troop. Yikes! The meat was carted several hundred yards away from the camp and we proceeded to cut steaks and biltong as if our lives depended on it. In record time the meat was all hanging safely in the trees and a plan was devised to lure the OC away from the general area by the ‘discovery’ of a beautiful butterfly (this particular guy was a dedicated butterfly collector and went everywhere with his butterfly net in tow). The ruse worked, as on his arrival, one of the guys rushed into the centre of camp, exclaiming that he’d actually seen a butterfly with an eight-inch wingspan, bright yellow in colour, with green ‘eyes’ on its wings and promptly led the major away from our butchery. From then it was plain sailing but before his departure the following morning he mentioned that he had never heard so many hyenas in his life …

Operation Griffin However, things were about to liven up once more. On 13 July 1968, 28 ZAPU insurgents crossed into Rhodesia from Zambia near Lusitu, south of Chirundu, with the objective of operating in the Hartley area. This crossing lead to Operation Griffin (16–26 July) and was part of an overall ZAPU plan to infiltrate three groups into the country. The other two groups, numbering 25 and 38, had crossed over the previous day, giving rise to Operations Mansion and Excess respectively. Two days after the crossing, the ‘Griffin’ gang rested by the river while three of them went on a recce for a more suitable camp. Having found one,

they then argued about the return route and split up. One man got lost and gave himself up to the police at Chirundu the next morning, 16 July, to whom he divulged the site of the gang’s crossing place and present resting place. A patrol of SAP (South African Police) immediately began a follow-up. 3 Commando and E Company 1RAR were also in the area, being on border control. The insurgent group moved along the Zambezi escarpment and on the 17th were near Mount Chisunguru in the Rawamombe range where they rested while observing the considerable security-force helicopter activity of that day. At nightfall, they moved into a solid defensive position in a deep gully running northeast to southwest. At 1030 hours on the morning of the 18th, Jerry Strong and half of 12 Troop, 3 Commando were following tracks along a dry riverbed with an African tracker up front. The other half was advancing along the northern ridge. 12 Troop had earlier been reinforced by 14 Troop which was moving along the southern ridge. At 1100 hours, the tracking team entered a steeply embanked gully where they found two enemy ks and, as they moved a few metres farther on, they came under RPD, AK, SKS and bazooka fire from an enemy position ahead of them in the area of a huge overhanging rock. They were unable to move forward. At the same time, the other half of the troop on the northern ridge came under sniper fire in which the MAG gunner, Trooper le Roux, was wounded. As he fell he returned fire, killing the sniper. 14 Troop, on the exposed southern ridge, was unable to provide effective covering fire. Strong and Corporal Lahee then crept forward to a hedge overlooking the enemy position. They loosed off a magazine each and hurled grenades before also finding themselves pinned down. The armed helicopter above, with Major Rob Southey aboard, came forward, pouring down covering fire, enabling the group in the gully to pull back and link up with Southey on the northern ridge where the SAP and Ron Marillier’s RAR platoon joined them. Le Roux was casevaced out. After a short briefing by Strong, the SAP moved along the northern ridge, planning to descend into the gully and take the enemy from the eastern end. Unfortunately, they didn’t go far enough eastward and when they began to descend they found themselves 30 metres from the insurgent positions where they were firmly pinned down on the slopes of the gully. Southey and 12 Troop tried to relieve them by attacking up the gully’s western end but were halted by heavy enemy fire. Furthermore, a stick from 11 Troop, sent to relieve 14 Troop on the southern ridge, also found itself

pinned down with Trooper Wepener critically wounded. The armed helicopter, which had been providing MAG covering fire, was hit and had to pull out, leaving the SAP trapped on the embankment. ‘I cannot speak too highly of the role and support given by the Blue Jobs,’ recalled Southey. ‘Squadron Leader Norman Walsh was the pilot of the helicopter which brought me forward from the JOC at Kariba airfield. During the action, his aircraft came under sustained enemy fire.’ Here, Southey vividly conveys the mutual esteem and regard existing between the Rhodesian ground troops and the chopper pilots and their techs. These airmen were ever-ready to take enormous personal risks to aid fighting soldiers below.

WOII Al Tourle (CSM 3 Commando) contemplates the bodies of ZAPU guerrillas, killed during Operation Griffin.

Captured ZAPU weapons. Top: An AK-47. Below: A Soviet 7.62mm RPD machine gun.

Above and below: ZAPU dead are bundled up at the contact site for transportation to Special Branch for identification purposes.

The corpse of a ZAPU cadre killed during Operation Griffin.

Hurling white phosphorus grenades, Southey and 12 Troop withdrew. 11 Troop did the same. Wepener was evacuated and Southey called for an air strike. At 1515 hours the Provosts struck with accurate Frantan (napalm) until 1745 during which time the SAP made several attempts—all unsuccessful—to withdraw. Constable du Toit was killed and two other members of the group were wounded. A heavy Hunter air strike was out of the question owing to the proximity of the enemy to 12 Troop and the SAP. ‘Air strikes by the Provosts were unbelievably accurate,’ wrote Southey, ‘and were made under extremely difficult circ*mstances. Not only were the SAP pinned down to the flank but 12 Troop was in extremely close proximity to the terrs, and on the only line of approach. Any drop short would have been disastrous.’ 13 Troop had arrived and was positioned as stops on the high ground to the west of the gully. After the Provosts’ Frantan attacks, Marillier’s RAR platoon was ordered to sweep the gully north to south in a bid to relieve the SAP. Control of the inexperienced RAR troops was lost and the brave

Marillier was the only one of his platoon to reach the SAP position at the bottom of the gully. Finally, under cover of darkness, the SAP was able to withdraw, the casualties being uplifted under extremely difficult conditions by Flight Lieutenants Nicholls and Grier. Southey described this night casevac as ‘sheer brilliance’. Indicating just how difficult the casevacs were, Group Captain Peter Petter-Bowyer writes: … Norman Walsh and Peter Nichols faced great difficulty because of steep mountainsides and the blackness of the night in conditions of thick haze. As soon as the landing light was switched on, it lit up the haze ahead, making visual contact with ground impossible until dangerously low and close. Fortunately Norman noticed that, when flying to one side of Peter, he could see the ground quite clearly where Peter’s light was aimed, whereas Peter himself was blinded by his own reflected light. Norman told Peter to switch off his landing light while he flew high at 90 degrees to Peter’s flight path and illuminated the landing area. Norman, blinded by his own pool of illuminated haze while flying high enough to clear all high ground, could just make out Peter’s bright red rotating beacon lights which helped him point his landing light on to the area ahead of Peter’s flight line. Now Peter could see the ground clearly all the way and only needed to switch on his own landing light for the landing itself. This worked like a charm so, having collected the casualties, Peter climbed and gave assistance to Norman. This tactic virtually eliminated the dangers of approaching high ground at night and the same procedure was later successfully used in many night operations where Trojan aircraft, equipped with a hand-held searchlight, accompanied single helicopters for casualty evacuations at night from difficult terrain … Southey redeployed the troops. Stops were positioned to seal off all likely escape routes and ambushes were set up on both ridges, and the east and west sides of the gully. To prevent the insurgents from moving during the night, the Trojans dropped flares. At first light the next day one of the stop groups at the eastern end of the gully, made up of 3 Commando HQ personnel under CSM Al Tourle, a very aggressive soldier, shot and killed four insurgents trying to break through. The Provosts then made another series of Frantan attacks. Southey, with 12 and 14 Troops, made a sweep of the gully from the west and at 0700 hours they reached the main enemy position only to find that it had been vacated. However, they did find a large quantity of insurgent equipment. Two hours

later, a badly burned insurgent, hiding up the north bank was killed. A little farther along, two more were discovered hiding in a cave and were killed by the troops when they opened fire on the leading scout. In the sweep, Marillier and his men found the badly burned bodies of two more insurgents and yet more equipment. By 1200 hours the entire area was cleared and the troops choppered out, leaving Marillier and his men in ambush position in the gully. Ten insurgents had been killed in the 26-hour action. The security forces suffered one man killed and six wounded. Still on the 19th, the JOC was moved to Kariba police station and 2 Commando arrived from Salisbury. Intensive patrolling of the contact area resulted in the location of the tracks of six men which were followed until last light. The following morning, the BSAP captured an insurgent who was thumbing a lift on the Makuti–Kariba road. Chris ‘Dumpy’ Pearce recalls: … 13 Troop was put on to fresh spoor not far from the mouth of Griffin’s Gorge on the 20th. I cannot recall who found the tracks but I think it may have been 14 Troop … we followed up and used leap-frog tactics to gain on the terrs. (I recall flying with the then OC 7 Squadron, Norman Walsh—we nearly hit the Kariba power lines at one stage). I also recall running into herds of elephant that managed to disperse us on two occasions as they had young with them and objected to our presence … At 1330 hours the leading tracker saw the insurgents and opened fire. An intense fire fight ensued. 3 Commando CSM, WO2 Al Tourle, armed with an MAG, moved with one other man to a rocky outcrop overlooking the enemy position and laid down a withering fire. Under cover of this, Corporals Johnstone and Strydom carried out a right-flanking attack onto the high ground and eliminated an enemy sniper. Meanwhile Corporal Kirkwood and Lance-Corporal Coom flanked left. Tourle put down a screen of mortar fire to deter any attempt to break out to the front. Heavy MAG, 32Z rifle rocketgrenade and 80WP (white phosphorus) grenade fire was then put into the gully. Johnstone, Kirkwood, Strydom and Coom then carried out a sweep during which an insurgent stood up and fired, wounding Coom. Johnstone killed the insurgent. A fire, started by the phosphorus grenades, set off the insurgent ammunition supply which continued to explode for the next half hour. A full sweep then revealed the bodies of nine dead insurgents. Tony Coom remembers: … The terr threw a grenade which knocked me arse over tit. The shrapnel cut the sling of my heavy-barrelled FN and

another sizeable piece lodged into the stock which was over my stomach at the time. I ended up on the ground facing the terr, scrambling for my gat (rifle) when he fired at me. One round hit the ground immediately in front of my neck, and disintegrated, with pieces going into my neck where they remain (to this day) and the next round grazing my right shoulder, leaving a shallow furrow along the top. Ken Johnstone then kindly shot the terr before he could correct his aim and do the job properly. I perhaps owe my life to Johnstone …

Al Tourle re-enacts the contact in which Tony Coom was wounded, from the guerrilla position. The guerrilla was eventually killed by Ken Johnstone.

The view from the guerrilla’s ambush position.

Al Tourle takes a ‘drink’. He was awarded a Bronze Cross for his part in Op Griffin.

Lt. Jerry Strong fills his canteen. Foreground, Al Tourle and Tony Coom at right.

Al Tourle was awarded a Bronze Cross for his part in the action. This outgoing and gifted individual was a ‘soldier’s soldier’. He was the type of

leader men cheerfully follow into hell. Of him Croukamp writes: … One heck of a soldier and instructor, this man, more than any other person, influenced me as a soldier. He oversaw my career to the rank of sergeant; he taught me demolitions and the sustained fire role on the General Purpose Machine Gun (GPMG); but mostly to shoot, the most basic skill that every infantry soldier needs. CSM Tourle had twice won the Queen’s Medal for Services shooting as well as the President’s medal. The best skills he left me were to shoot with both eyes open and to shoot both left- and right-handed … I had grown as a man and a soldier thanks to Al Tourle. CSM Tourle was eventually given a training commission and would take over command of the tracking wing at Kariba. While running an advanced course in the Bumi area and doing an evening briefing on 8 April 1972 for the next day’s programme with the tracking instructors, a lion came out of the dark. Taking Tourle by his neck and shoulder the lion dragged him off. André Rabie grabbed his rifle, fired a shot over the beast and it dropped the now badly injured Tourle. By morning, even though a doctor had been flown in to treat his injuries, Tourle was dead … The search was now on for the seven outstanding insurgents. The next day, 12 Troop led by Sergeant Reynolds found fresh tracks of five leading to a river. There was a contact between the left section of the troop and the insurgents. While this engagement was taking place, Reynolds deployed his right section down to the river as stops. The left section killed three of the enemy and Reynold’s HQ section accounted for another. Two of the dead men had sustained Frantan wounds and were clearly survivors of the first contact. Three days later, the police captured another member of the group and the outstanding insurgent was believed to have died of wounds incurred in the Frantan attack mounted in the initial contact. Though the JOC closed down at 1200 hours on 26 July, 2 and 3 Commandos were not allowed to rest on their laurels—they were immediately deployed to Operation Excess. Beryl Salt records the Air Force perspective of Operation Griffin in A Pride of Eagles, vividly illustrating the almost reckless bravery of the aircrews: …The ZAPU cadre had established itself in a deep gorge and engaged the security forces at close range with heavy fire from rifles, machine guns and bazookas. 12 Troop 1st Battalion RLI, commanded by

Second Lieutenant Jeremy Strong, approaching along a gully, was pinned down by the weight of fire. The air force was called in to support the ground forces and Squadron Leader Norman Walsh, flying an Alouette, was given the task of deploying troops in the surrounding mountainous country. Having accomplished this, despite the difficult terrain and heavy fire, he then succeeded in manoeuvring his helicopter into a position from which he could engage the enemy. His gunner, Sergeant Tinker Smithdorff, directed fire onto the enemy position even though heavy automatic fire was coming from close range on the ground. This action enabled the troops on the ground to withdraw to a better position. By then, a second helicopter, piloted by Flight Lieutenant Pete Nicholls with Sergeant T. J. van den Berg, had arrived on the scene. Flying low over the enemy position, Sergeant van den Berg directed accurate fire onto the ZAPU positions. Both helicopters were hit by enemy ground fire and Pete Nicholls was forced to return to base. Meanwhile there were casualties among the RLI troops and Norman was requested to evacuate a wounded troopie from the contact area. This proved an extremely hazardous operation as fighting was still in progress. The only possible landing zone was close to the enemy position and his helicopter was hit by ground fire as he was carrying out the casevac. Having completed the evacuation, Norman Walsh returned to the contact area and directed further air strikes, which were carried out by two Provosts, flown by Air Lieutenant Ken Law and Flight Lieutenant Tony van Rooyen-Smit. The nature of the terrain imposed severe restrictions on the Provost attack pattern, while the proximity of the enemy forced the pilots to release their weapons over the heads of the security force personnel. Norman Walsh, with LieutenantColonel Robert William Southey aboard, succeeded in pin-pointing the enemy position with such accuracy that the Provosts were able to carry out a successful strike inflicting many casualties. That night, at about 2200 hours, two helicopters, flown by Squadron Leader Mick Grier and Flight Lieutenant Pete Nicholls, were tasked to carry out a casualty evacuation. It was a difficult operation because the serious condition of the wounded meant that Mick’s Alouette had to be flown into a narrow ravine, to land in a small LZ on a steep slope in the dark. Added to this, it was possible that the enemy would commence firing during the evacuation. In the event, the operation was carried out without loss.

No. 2 Squadron was scrambled for an air strike on that same day, 18 July, but owing to fading light and the proximity of the security forces to the enemy positions no weapons were fired. However, on 20 July, the squadron had more success when squash-head rocket projectiles and 20mm cannons were used at the junction of Zambezi and the Gwaai rivers. The Hunters also took part in this operation. The Trojans of No. 4 Squadron had by now been converted into combat aircraft by the fitment of Matra rocket pods. This armament was initially used during Operation Gravel by Pilot Officer Brian Phillips and resulted in two enemy dead and 13 wounded. The Trojan was hit five times by ground fire. No. 4 Squadron Diary entry: ‘Morale, which at this stage was badly lacking, especially among the junior pilots, went rocketing upward.’ …

Operation Excess

The ‘Griffin’ gang comprised 28 members of an original group of 91 ZAPU insurgents which had been split up into three smaller groups as part of a plan to simultaneously infiltrate Rhodesia at three different crossing places. One of the other groups, numbering 38 men, crossed over on the night of 12 July near the confluence of the Makuku and Zambezi rivers in northern Mashonaland. They were organized into five sections, three of which were made up of eight men each and two of seven men each. Three survivors from Operation Cauldron were included in the group. Their destination was the Mount Darwin area where they were tasked with subverting local tribesmen and recruiting some of them for training outside Rhodesia. Once across the river, they marched in a southeasterly direction for three nights, guided by three scouts and resting by day. On the 16th they rested in a dry riverbed. Having been undetected thus far, they became overconfident and shot a buffalo, drying the meat over an open fire before resuming their march. Ten days later, an employee of INTAF (Ministry of Internal Affairs) found boot prints of a figure-8 pattern in the Urungwe forest area and notified the police. A JOC was set up at Makuti, becoming operational on the 27th when it moved to Karoi where it was joined by 2 Commando, while 3 Commando (Major Rob Southey) moved to the Angwa River Bridge at Mato Pools with Tac HQ. Support Group 1RLI was at Kanyemba and one of its troops moved into the area together with six PATU sticks. E Company 1RAR was deployed to the west as stops. 2 Commando’s 7 Troop and a troop from Support Group began to follow tracks on the 27th until last light. At first light on the following day, having slept on tracks, they resumed the follow-up and found a deserted insurgent camp in the Urungwe forest. Unknown to the troops, the insurgents, observing all the helicopter activity north of their position, became very nervous and their section commander suggested that they leave as a matter of urgency. However, their overall commander refused to do so. With the discovery of the camp, the follow-up troops began leap-frogging, which eventually placed them an estimated six hours behind the insurgents. On the morning of the 29th, as the insurgents were resting at a nearby waterhole, a helicopter suddenly landed at the waterhole and some trackers got out, checking for spoor. Believing themselves to be surrounded the entire group of insurgents panicked and scattered; one of them eventually got completely lost. When the chopper departed the enemy commander split the group into two parties, both of which were to make, by different routes, for

the area between the Musengezi and Mukumvura rivers. Discovering fresh tracks, the troops of Dumpy Pearce’s 13 Troop, 3 Commando, now in the Dande TTL, followed up. Group Captain (then Flight Lieutenant) Peter Petter-Bowyer takes up the incident with his first-hand account: …On 28 July, I led a flight of four helicopters to support the RLI operation. My first task was to re-supply Dumpy Pearce with water and rations. A little after midday I located Dumpy near the source of the small, bone-dry Ruponje River on the northern side of a watershed ridge, where I shut down to have a chat. Dumpy’s call sign was hot, sweaty and tired but in good spirits. The men welcomed the cold water and ice I had brought them and rested while Dumpy and I talked. He estimated that they were seven days behind a group of approximately 50 terrorists. I asked him to point to the spot on the nearby ridge where he believed the tracks were heading. Having noted this, I got airborne and found I could actually land there. It was obvious that aerial-tracking this old trail in such dry, grassless conditions was a non-starter, but I had other ideas in mind. Looking over the ground ahead, I could not help seeing a patch of bright green trees about 12 kilometres away beyond a series of descending ridges. The walking distance was at least twice the direct distance. The trees were off to the right of the direction the terrorists had been heading but they gave the distinct impression of being sited on water. I was absolutely certain that the terrorists must have been drawn to the spot, having travelled so far without water. I called Dumpy and asked him if I could fly his trackers forward to see if my guess was right, promising to have them back within 15 minutes if I was wrong. Dumpy said it suited him but I must first get Rob Southey’s blessings. For this I had to climb quite high to make contact with RLI Tac HQ. Rob Southey did not accept my suggestion, so I started heading for base. About one minute later I received a call to say it would be fine to return to Dumpy and lift his trackers forward providing Dumpy was with them. I raced back to pick him and two trackers up. When we landed on the short green grass next to the copse of green trees, the trackers climbed out and immediately pointed to terrorist tracks on the very spot we had landed. They established that there was no surface water as I flew Dumpy’s call sign forward to tracks now assessed at five days old. Pressing my luck, I headed off low and slow over a vast expanse of leafless trees in the direction the trackers were moving and noted a single prominent and unusually high tree with distinctly smooth, yellow bark.

Although it was a long way ahead, it was certainly on the line the trackers were moving. At this stage I was short of fuel and returned to base. I went to Rob Southey to suggest moving the trackers forward again (leap-frogging). Colonel John Hickman, the commanding officer, was visiting and I learned that it was he who had persuaded Rob Southey to let me try the first move. Though this had been successful and had brought the RLI two days closer to the terrorists, Rob seemed reluctant to move the trackers to the tall tree. One could hardly blame him because it must have seemed improbable that the terrorists would have seen things the way I did. However, he had changed his mind when Colonel Hickman said, “You have nothing to lose, Rob!” I returned to Dumpy, picked up his trackers and put them down close to the yellow tree. They were more surprised than I to find that a terrorist had climbed the tree to scan the route ahead while the rest of the group had waited close by. Dumpy’s men were brought forward on to tracks, now estimated to be 36 hours old. Again I pressed my luck and, dealing only with Dumpy, moved trackers forward about six kilometres to where the trees gave way to open ground along the dry Mwanzamtanda River. Here the trackers had to cast 200 metres before locating tracks that were under 24 hours old. I had just enough fuel to bring the whole call sign forward before returning to base, feeling very pleased with myself. We had closed from seven days to one day in less than three hours. Had Colonel Hickman not been at Tac HQ this would certainly not have occurred and a new method of gaining ground would have been lost.

An RLI military funeral through the streets of Salisbury. Such events were phased out as casualty rates mounted.

Cranborne Barracks, Salisbury.

3 Commando barrack block.

RLI officers from left: Leon Jacobs, John Hickman, Rob Southey and Charles Jolley, the Admin Officer. Hickman took over from Jack Caine as CO 1RLI in August 1968.

It was now late afternoon and with my enthusiasm at a peak, I searched forward. I dared not proceed at low level with terrorists so close and climbed to 1,500 feet. Almost immediately I saw dark green trees ahead and sensed this was the actual position of the terrorists. Alan Aird, the chopper tech/gunner, had been with me the whole time and he also saw the water in the heavily treed tributary that flowed into the Mwanzamtanda. This otherwise dry rivulet ran northward along the edge of a rocky outcrop, then looped southward around a moderately high rocky feature. In this bend lay surface water with the dark green trees lining the banks. Alan agreed with me that the terrorists were under those big shady trees and said he was certain he had seen bundles of something or other under the northernmost trees. Back at base it was decided that Dumpy Pearce should continue his follow-up and that fresh troops would be lifted into the suspected terrorist base early next morning. I do not remember the reason for this, but I only carried Alan, his MAG and a full fuel tank when I flew ahead of the three helicopters carrying Jerry Strong and his troops of 12 Troop, 3 Commando. I passed over the suspect point where both Alan and I saw what we believed to be shell-scrapes (shallow trenches) at the edge of the tree line. We did not change direction until the other helicopters had passed over the site to drop troops behind a small ridge just a hundred metres away. The helicopters

lifted immediately to return to collect more troops as Jerry led his men directly to the suspect site. As he entered the trees, he called, “Terrs left about one minute ago—in a hurry. There is abandoned equipment—no time to collect—moving east on tracks.” Poor Dumpy Pearce who had followed the terrorists so far was not at all happy that Jerry was right on the tail of the terrorists he had mentally prepared himself to engage in contact in less than two hours. Rob Southey refused to let Dumpy’s force join Jerry’s fresh troops, even though helicopters could have moved them forward in less than five minutes. Nevertheless, this turned out to be a good decision. Being under strength, Jerry was moving cautiously through rough country. Soon enough the rest of his troops arrived and, though able to move faster for a while, patches of heavy bush in rough terrain, well suited to ambush, slowed Jerry down. His trackers reported following less than 20 men, which was way below the number Dumpy Pearce had given. In the meanwhile, Dumpy had reached the terrorist base by the water where he found that a big force of about 40 insurgents had broken south. The only other tracks were those that Jerry was following. Before Jerry’s troops reached one particular spot, I asked for 37mm Sneb rockets to be fired into a patch of bush on the lip of a ravine through which Jerry and his men would be passing. To assist Flying Officer Chris Weinmann, who was flying a Provost, in identifying the correct position, I asked him to follow my helicopter’s shadow until I called “Now!” to pinpoint his strike position. So far as I know this was the first time that one pilot had guided another by using his aircraft’s shadow. But it worked perfectly and Chris placed the strike exactly where I wanted it. When Jerry reached the point a few minutes later, he reported that tracks went through the point of strike but the terrorists had passed there some time earlier. By late afternoon Jerry’s call sign had slowed to the extent that they were over one hour behind the terrorists when tracks crossed the north–south road leading to Kanyemba. Because the terrorists were heading directly for Mozambique, diplomatic clearances were needed to enter the country (the ‘hot pursuit’ policy). When it got too dark to track, the troops settled for the night on the border line. The road crossing had allowed trackers to get an accurate count of the number of men they were pursuing. This confirmed that, with only 15 sets of prints, Dumpy was following the greater portion of the original group.

During the night authority was given to cross into Mozambique. At first light Jerry’s men received water and Mozambican maps before continuing the follow-up into flat dry mopane country where the temperature would rise to 38°C by midday. No aircraft came near Jerry until he said he was close to contact. As I approached his area, a radio transmission from Jerry was so heavily overlaid with the sound of automatic gunfire that I was unable to make out what he was saying. That he was in a contact was obvious. Jerry had heard voices ahead and opened up his call sign for a sweep through moderately open bush toward the voices. The terrorists saw the troops emerging from the bush line on the other side of a dry riverbed and opened fire, wounding one trooper. Jerry called on the terrorists to surrender, to which they replied with obscenities and racist slogans before resuming fire that kept Jerry’s troops pinned down for a short while. The enemy position was under trees on slightly higher ground on the other side of a dry riverbed. The RLI men threw phosphorus grenades into the river line to give smoke cover to Jerry’s left section as it rushed over the riverbed and got into position on the terrorists’ right flank. With pressure on them from front and side, the enemy action abated. Under covering fire, Jerry and his remaining sections charged across the riverbed to sweep through the enemy camp where they found seven dead terrorists and one wounded. This meant that there were still seven others close by. Alan Aird and I searched forward and saw two terrorists lying against the bank of a small gully with their weapons pointing toward the advancing troops. Alan opened fire, forcing them into a running crouch along the gully in the direction of Jerry’s flanking section. One fell then got up again. Alan’s fire struck the second man who went head over heels. He rose again just where the gully seemed to end next to a clump of trees. Here both wounded men disappeared from view. A gully beyond helped us to understand that a tunnel existed where the roots of the trees bound surface soil to form a natural bridge. The two terrorists were obviously hiding here. Then from above we witnessed a very strange action when two soldiers, one wearing a bright green item of headgear, moved to where we had lost sight of the terrorists. These two were bending over the bridge and gesticulating wildly before both dropped on to their stomachs moments before a grenade detonated in the gully next to them. They rose and did what they had done before, again dropping face down as another explosion occurred. The act

was repeated but, this time, the two wounded terrorists emerged and were taken prisoner.

Above and below: Hawker Hunters.

Trooper Haasbroek into action aboard an Alouette III.

Alouette III lands in a tricky LZ.

Above and below: C a n b e r r a bombers were used effectively during Operation Cauldron.

Later we were to learn that Lance-Corporal Lahee was the wearer of the green headgear, a tea cosy, which was a lucky charm he had used during Op Griffin to attract enemy fire. [In the early days RLI troopers wore a wide variety of non-regulation headgear—a bizarre example being a 3 Commando trooper who regularly sported a top hat adorned with a yellow and chrome Automobile Association badge.] During that action in which he had been pinned down with Jerry, he had lifted the tea cosy on a stick into enemy view to confirm their presence and position. In so doing, the cosy had collected a number of holes. I knew the man had to be a bit crazy wearing such a bright article because it made finding him from the air so much easier than any other RLI soldier. Lahee had watched the direction of the dust from our helicopter’s gunfire to indicate the terrorists under the earth bridge. Here he called on them to surrender. They refused so he threw a grenade into the tunnel. The terrorists were just around a bend in the tunnel that protected them from the detonating grenades so that they tossed them back out into the gully. Lahee then told them that the next grenade would be timed to detonate as it reached them. This brought both of them out promptly. At this very moment, another terrorist was seen and killed by another section. A little past the point where the gully entered a dry river, I spotted a terrorist as he ran under a tangle of roots overhanging the bank of the main river. Alan had not seen him and I lost sight of the man. With Alan holding the MAG steady, I manoeuvred the helicopter and told him when to pull the trigger. With a touch of rudder, I brought strikes to the correct spot for Alan to identify. We then made three passes down the river putting in accurate strikes before running out of ammunition. The terrorist had not fallen into view so Flying Officer Tudor Thomas and his gunner, Senior Technician Butch Phillips, put in a pass into the same spot where troops immediately

found the bullet-ridden body of the terrorist lodged in tangled roots exposed by erosion. This brought the tally to 12 with three remaining. I landed to relieve Jerry’s men of the tree captured terrorists and flew off to hand them over to the Special Branch at Kanyemba. I can still picture their arrogant but fearful faces when they looked at Alan and his MAG but dared not move because he had them covered. Two of the terrorists had long, deep, furrow-like wounds to arms and legs that typified those received from steeply inclined helicopter gunfire. Though these looked pretty frightful at the time, medical attention at Kanyemba and later in Salisbury prison resulted in their full recovery. An RLI call sign of five men under Fanie Coetzee had been put down ahead of Jerry’s call sign to cross-grain along the Angwa River. With contact having been made, Tac HQ now asked me to get Fanie’s call sign over to assist Jerry in the follow-up on the three outstanding insurgents who had become separated from each other. With the burly Alan Aird and 400 pounds of fuel, I knew a lift of six men would be difficult. I had not seen Fanie before and groaned inwardly when I saw just how big and heavy he was as he lumbered across the soft river sand with his men. Lift-off necessitated the use of emergency power, but I was able to reduce this within the gearbox time limit once in forward flight. On return to the contact area, I landed with my heavy load in a small hole between high trees, a tricky manoeuvre. As if this was not bad enough, a terrorist went to ground directly ahead of the aircraft, making my hair stand on end because it was too late to abort the landing. I shouted to Fanie, “Terrorist directly ahead!” just before touchdown then I lifted smartly as the troops leapt out. Fanie’s attention was drawn over to his left so he did not get to clearing the area I had indicated. Two days later an uninjured terrorist, captured by Mozambican villagers, was brought to Tac HQ. He recognized me immediately and told his interrogators that I was the pilot he aimed to kill if he thought we had seen him hiding in an antbear hole. The reason he recognized me was because, instead of wearing a helmet and mask I wore earphones with a throat microphone. Thank goodness he did not fire. It would have spelt disaster for eight men and a helicopter. The two remaining terrorists were killed in separate actions and the focus of Op Excess swung over to the larger terrorist group. Their tracks had not been found by either of two cross-graining call signs patrolling the main dirt road of Dumpy’s follow-up. The reason for this became clear when Dumpy

reached the road. The terrorists had applied effective anti-tracking procedures over long stretches moving singly in a widespread line-abreast formation. When they reached the road, they grouped and laid clothing like stepping stones across a river, which all the men followed, leaving no boot prints on the roadway. Unexpectedly, locals well to the south of the Dande TTL reported the terrorists’ presence. Following this, a series of contacts occurred but each fire fight had ended before helicopters arrived. During the first and largest of these, Fanie Coetzee’s leading scout and part of his call sign came under heavy fire from a high ridge toward which the trackers were moving. Fanie manoeuvred a section around a flank and from their rear the terrorists were soundly defeated. Shooting had just ended when I arrived and the troops were sweeping through the contact site. I landed and switched off close to big Fanie who nonchalantly handed me a captured RPD machine gun, barrel forward. I took hold of it but dropped it immediately when the hot barrel burned the palm and fingers of my right hand. The weapon fell to the ground, still smoking with some of my skin stuck to it. For over a week, flying, eating and every other activity involving the use of my right hand was absolute agony … Interrogation of the captured insurgent, resulted in 1 Commando moving into the area. Rhodesian troops then patrolled along the border while Portuguese troops deployed on the Mozambican side. On 1 August, a troop of 1 Commando found tracks of 16 men heading south-southeast which were followed. Another troop found tracks of three going northwest which were also followed. On the 2nd, police captured three insurgents at Buru Store, one of whom agreed to lead Lieutenant Graham and his 1 Troop, 1 Commando to the insurgent base camp. This insurgent, however, began to lead the troops astray and when this became apparent, the other two men were brought in to give directions. At 1600 hours, the troop was walking through thick bush on a low ridge when they came under heavy AK and SKS fire. They went to ground and returned fire, which was unfortunately hampered by several weapon stoppages. An attempt to compensate by hurling white phosphorus grenades, however, started a bush fire, under cover of which the enemy escaped. Between 2 and 6 August, the police accounted for one kill and several captures in different areas. By the morning of the 7th there were eleven insurgents still at large.

The assault course at Cranborne Barracks. The PT Instructor at left is WOII Len Monson with Rob Preston to his left.

Patrolling continued up to 12 August when it was considered that the outstanding insurgents, demoralized and short of food, had more than likely returned to Zambia. The JOC was accordingly closed down on that day. Two weeks later, on 27 August, an RLI patrol from 13 Troop led by Corporal Dennis Croukamp was patrolling an arm of the ‘L’ where the Rhodesian border runs south of Kanyemba. This was in conjunction with a Portuguese patrol that was performing the same exercise on the Mozambican side. Chris Pearce writes: ‘Half the troop was to the north and the rest to the east.’ Croukamp was approached by an African who said that there was a stranger at his brother’s kraal a short distance from Hunyani Mission near the border. He led them to the kraal and as the soldiers moved in a man tried to escape. When he failed to stop he was shot dead. A tsetse-fly ranger captured one of the insurgents on 5 September and the bodies of another two were found by police. The third ZAPU gang of 25 men was defeated by 1RAR in an operation code-named Mansion. Petter-Bowyer recalls two anecdotes from Operation Excess: … The first of my Op Excess recollections involved a toilet. A concrete plinth set over a deep hole had once been the road-camp latrine. It was on the high bank of the Angwa River, and now with a ‘thunder box’ in place served as the officers’ loo. A hessian screen surrounded three sides of the toilet with the open end overlooking pools in the river below. In the heat of the valley, this facility began to smell, its stench invading the operations room tent and the officers’ dining tables set under trees. I was present at the lunch table for the first time when Rob Southey asked Sergeant-Major Al ‘Bangstick’ Tourle to attend to the problem. The sergeant-major ordered two RLI troopies to get rid of the smell, fully expecting the youngsters to do the usual thing of pouring lime into the pit. But he had not spelled this out to them. Obviously the soldiers did not know the standard procedure because they set out to deal with their task in their own way. One poured a gallon of petrol down the hole and turned to his mate asking for matches. His mate did not have any and ran off to find some. By the time he returned the heat had turned the petrol into concentrated vapour so, as the match was struck, the vapour ignited instantly, setting off a powerful explosion that sent everyone diving for cover, believing that the camp was under attack. Only when a shower of indescribable stinking muck rained down, did someone shout, “Some silly bugger has blown the sh*thouse down!” The force of the explosion threw both youngsters down the bank, one

having lost most of his hair to flame. They both recovered, but the concrete plinth and the ‘thunder box’ were totally destroyed. The second incident involved Tudor Thomas who was still airborne one evening and became disorientated in the haze and blackness of night. I got airborne immediately to orbit over our base with my landing light on to assist him. It took a long while before Tudor picked up my landing lights because he was miles away. On the ground some troopies knew a helicopter was having difficulty in locating the base and, seeing me orbiting above, one asked another, “Why doesn’t that stupid Blue Job just look down? There’s plenty of light in this camp!” …

A night on the parade square Jerry Strong recalls this tailpiece following on Operation Excess: … At the successful termination of Op Excess, the whole battalion re-grouped at Cranborne Barracks for re-fitting and de-briefing of the operation. We had worked very closely with the Air Force and in particular with 7 Squadron (helicopters) during this operation—which was a relatively new experience in those days! In order to foster this relationship and to build on the team spirit, which was beginning to emerge, it was suggested that all the squadron pilots, together with their wives, be invited to the officers’ mess for a ‘bash’. This was duly arranged and the party got going at an alarming pace with much leg-pulling, mirth and laughter! All seemed to be really enjoying themselves! After quite a few Castles I suddenly started to feel worse for wear and realized I had consumed too many too quickly. So rather than make a fool of myself, and when I thought no one would notice, I quietly slunk out of the mess and retired to my ‘pit’ in the single quarters, stripped off and fell onto my bed, too tired and inebriated to don my pyjamas. Within a few minutes I was sound asleep. The next thing I can remember was reaching out in slumber, as was my wont, to turn my radio on and to listen to Leslie Sullivan (a popular early-morning radio announcer aka Rhodesia’s ‘Little Ray of Sunshine’) and his Six-Thirty Get-Uppers Club. Not finding my radio I suddenly became acutely aware of someone shouting “Left-right, left-right. Look up and swing those arms!” I opened my eyes and to my horror, realized I was on my bed in the middle of the parade ground—completely starkers and surrounded by recruits doing their early morning drill. I couldn’t believe it! How on earth had I got there … who the hell …? Without further ado I

leapt from my place of comfort and streaked (the first RLI streaker?) across the parade ground, along the road, through Battalion HQ and into my room in the single quarters, to find no bed and a pile of sheets and blankets on the floor. What had happened? How had I ended up on the RSM’s ‘sacred square’—in bed? Who dunnit? What would the CO say, and more to the point, what would the RSM say? I was a mere second lieutenant and visualized a month of extra orderly officer duties coming my way. Sacré bleu! Eventually, and much to my embarrassment, the tale of the previous night was revealed to me at breakfast by my fellow subalterns. My ‘quiet’ departure from the party had been noticed by none other than Reid-Daly and his imaginative brain immediately got to work. Giving me half an hour or so to fall asleep, he mustered the CO’s wife, Jacky Hickman, the 7 Squadron OC Norman Walsh and his wife Marian. The four of them carried me out and along the road to the parade ground. It had just started to drizzle, so the two wives found an umbrella each (from where I do not know) and held them over my head and privates while Norman Walsh and Reid-Daly carried me on my bed and left me in the middle of the parade ground. All four then retreated back to the mess to much laughter from the assembled multitude. Having had my leg pulled unmercifully during breakfast, I made my way sheepishly to 3 Commando lines and did my best to find something inconspicuous to occupy my time before receiving, what I knew would be a call from the RSM. I was not proved wrong. Within the hour I was informed that Robin Tarr, the RSM, wanted to see me in his office and I was to get there NOW! Shaking, I knocked on his door and gingerly enquired, “You called RSM?” I leave the response to the reader’s imagination. I expected the worst but believe the CO (whose wife had been an accomplice) and ReidDaly succeeded in showing the RSM the amusing aspect of the evening, and so I escaped with only a severe bollocking. This was an experience I shall never forget. I then began to plot my revenge—but that’s another tale …

Along with Bruce Snelgar, Strong was one of the RLI’s most highly decorated officers. He was at Sandhurst where he had been awarded the Sword of Honour at the time of Smith’s UDI declaration. Writing of Strong,

Croukamp says: ‘Lieutenant Strong was one of the very many officers I would have followed to the end of the earth and back.’

Notes On 13 June 1968, various members of the battalion, chosen for their marksmanship, set about getting in a last-minute spell of shooting in preparation for the annual Army weapons meeting. Zeroing was quickly followed by the sighters and warmers before all concerned settled down to the deliberate shoot practice. The teams devoted particular attention to the run-downs, practising them over and over. The event itself took place on the following day at Beatrice range. The battalion team was, as in previous years, paired off into four teams of two, and a competition run on each weapon. The battalion team, headed by Major Peter Rich, ended up bagging ten trophies which included a clean sweep of all the LMG (Bren gun) matches (this was the last time this event was competed for) and a clean sweep of all the MAG matches. Both these shoots were won due to the outstanding weapon-handling by machine gun pairs, with WO2 Al Tourle and Colour Sergeant Pat Miller being particularly noteworthy on the LMG. Colour Sergeant Terry Wilde won the LMG individual event. Peter Rich, Captain Geoff Atkinson, Colour Sergeant Lou Hallamore and Terry Wilde won the falling plates event. Al Tourle came away with the best all-round individual trophy. The Saints Freefall Parachute Club was growing, with ten new members having joined. Jumps took place each Sunday with the Rhodesia Sky Divers at Mount Hampden. Team members Lieutenant Garth Barrett, LanceCorporals Oldbury and Willis and Troopers Murray and Quinn took part in the Rhodesian Skydiving Championships at Borrowdale and did well, with Oldbury coming runner-up in the best overall individual competition.

1

The Incredibles p100 The Incredibles pp101-103 3 Peter Petter-Bowyer, Winds of Destruction, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa 2005 2

References The organization, role and tasks of the RLI are drawn from a School of Infantry Cadet Wing 2-page pamphlet of March 1977, kindly provided by Charles D. Melson, chief historian to the US Marine Corps Ron Reid-Daly, ‘War in Rhodesia’ as contained in Challenge, Ashanti 1989 Peter Petter-Bowyer, Winds of Destruction, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa 2005 Beryl Salt, assisted by Wing Commander Peter Cooke & Group Captain Bill Sykes, A Pride of Eagles: The Definitive History of the Rhodesian Air Force 1920–1980, Covos Day, Johannesburg, South Africa 2001 Dennis Croukamp, Only my friends call me “Crouks”: Rhodesian reconnaissance specialist, Pseudo Publishing, Cape Town 2006 Assegai (magazine of the Rhodesian Army), July 1968 Stu Taylor, draft Lost in Africa, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, due 2007

Traditions In August 1968, Lieutenant-Colonel J. (John) S. V. Hickman became CO of 1RLI, taking over from Jack Caine. In May the following year, while the battalion was rehearsing for a ceremonial parade, it started to rain heavily— in fact it was a torrential downpour. When the officers, soaked through, adjourned to the mess after the parade Hickman officially decreed that should this ever re-occur in the future it would be a standing order that tea be served with rum in the interests of the officers’ health. Thus are regimental traditions born. With the advent of UDI an annual celebration known as Triangular Night had come into being on or around the 11 November. On the designated night, the corporals’ club would invite the officers’ mess and the warrant officers’ and sergeants’ mess to celebrate the occasion. The CO would toast ‘The Regiment’ and then ‘Rhodesia’, followed by the RSM leading the singing of The Saints. As no reciprocal entertainment could be given to the corporals (not sure why, presumably reciprocation only worked one way), the cost of the function was evenly divided among the three messes. A further tradition concerned the Christmas festive season. On Christmas morning, an officer from each sub-unit, appointed by the commanding officer and supervised by the orderly officer and the orderly sergeant, would dispense the traditional ‘gunfire’ (rum and coffee) to all troops—in bed. The troops’ Christmas lunch was held in the main dining-hall where a VIP guest would propose a toast to the regiment. The officers and NCOs would then commence the time-honoured tradition of serving Christmas lunch to all ranks below sergeant. After lunch the officers and NCOs would be called forward one by one to drink a pint of beer to the loud accompaniment of crashing cutlery on tables. The VIP would then be escorted by the officers and NCOs to the corporals’ dining-room for a buffet lunch. All the ‘servers’ would then be invited by the RSM to lunch in the warrant officers’ and sergeants’ mess.

Pitman’s elephant Border-control operations continued to provide their own measure of excitement. Commanding his first patrol in the Zambezi valley, 3 Commando’s 22-year-old Lance-Corporal Ron ‘Pinball’ Penrose and four of his men, who included the diminutive Trooper Pete ‘Lucky Lips’ Pitman,

came across a herd of elephants at a river and sat down, waiting for the animals to move on. Suddenly a spotter plane appeared overhead and startled the herd into a stampede. One enraged bull saw the soldiers and charged. The troops scattered but the elephant had targeted Penrose and Pitman. The fleeing Penrose then stumbled and fell and the elephant grabbed him with its trunk and tossed him, after which it knelt on him and placed its head on him preparing to crush him. Pitman raced to Penrose’s aid and began to club the elephant in the ribs with his rifle but to no avail. The beast simply ignored him. Pitman then decided to butt the elephant in the ear. This produced an immediate reaction with the jumbo whirling about and knocking him down after which, fortunately for them both, it lumbered off. Pitman was hospitalized for a brief while but returned to duty soon afterward, none the worse for wear. Questioned about the incident, Pitman grinned apologetically, saying that he had lost his temper at the time. Otherwise he would have shot the beast outright rather than cause it the unnecessary suffering his clubbing had inflicted. He added that he had joined the Army for adventure. He was rewarded with 31 days leave and was awarded a Military Forces Commendation (non-operational) for his bravery on 23 October 1970.

Notes Regimental Association In January 1969 the first steps in the formation of a Regimental Association were taken. A small committee was formed with John Moore as secretary and Tony Stevens, Ian Shepperd, Nick Falk and Peter Jackson as members. There would be an annual general meeting with the inaugural meeting taking place in conjunction with Regimental Day. Membership of the association was to be open to all who had served or were serving members of the battalion. Attached personnel were eligible for membership after 12 months’ service with the battalion. Adverts publicizing the formation of the association were placed in the Rhodesian and South African press. Shooting team The battalion shooting team attended the Salisbury Police Reserve weapons meeting at Cleveland Range on 1 June 1969. The battalion won the overall team competition, beating the Air Force into second place in a very close

finish—the RLI won by four points. The RLI won the combined 200x deliberate- and rapid-shoot event and the falling plates competition. 3 Commando’s CSM Al Tourle won the Individual 200x deliberate shoot and the 200x rapid shoot and was second in the combined 500x deliberate and rapid shoot. Colour Sergeant Williams was placed second in the 300x deliberate. 1 Commando The 1969 Commando trophies were presented by the CO. Best shottist went to Corporal ‘Chalky’ van Schalkwyk; best sportsman was awarded to LanceCorporal Andy Johnstone and Lance-Corporal Parkin was awarded best trooper. We may note here that the commando’s Sergeant Chris ‘Schulie’ Schulenburg, later to gain Rhodesia’s highest bravery award, the Grand Cross of Valour, when serving with the Selous Scouts, had passed his Officer Selection Board (OSB) and was on Officer Cadets’ Course at the School of Infantry. Major John McVey took over as OC in early 1970. Second Lieutenant Bob Warraker, later awarded the Silver Cross when serving with the Selous Scouts, joined the commando as commander of 4 Troop also in early 1970. (The RLI was to prove fertile recruiting ground for both the Selous Scouts and SAS over the years.)

Recruits drill at Cranborne Barracks. Recruit Rob Scott is in the foreground.

2 Commando

The 1969 battalion exercise was a success despite a few minor mishaps and near-misses. Al Boyd-Sutherland was nearly blown up in an ‘unexplained incident’; the brigade commander was nearly hit by a ricochet while he and the CO, Lieutenant-Colonel J. S. V. Hickman, were watching a 2 Commando attack with live rounds. The commando OC, Major Leon Jacobs, was persuaded not to attempt to take out the CO in the same way once he was told he was not in line for the job anyway. The CSM fell in the river and had to be helped out by Keith Gower and another. 2 Commando remained notable during this period, culminating in an incident where, after a night spent painting the town red, the officers were obliged to bundle the CO into a taxi to get him home as Lieutenant Bruce Snelgar and one other identified as ‘Baby Makumbi’ (suspected to be John Dawson) had made off with his staff car. The commando welcomed two new subbies into its ranks from Gwelo’s School of Infantry—namely second lieutenants Simon Haarhoff and George Galbraith, promptly dubbed ‘Simon and Garfunkel’. Both were immediately sent off on a six-day operation during which they walked 65 miles, mostly in pouring rain. They only had three days’ rations with them but declared, on completion, that they ‘schemed’ the RLI was the crazy sort of unit they wished to belong to. Seregeant Eddie Fouché, later to be awarded the Bronze Cross, was posted in from Training Troop. Commando members were also undergoing a spate of courses during 1969: Lance-corporals Brian Authers and Pete Clemence were in Melsetter on an Outward Bound Course; Lance-corporals Dicky Dixon, Sandy Sandelands together with Eddie Ratcliffe and ‘Bez’ Bezuidenhout were in Bulawayo attending Troop Medic’s Course. Sergeant Piet van der Riet, who we last met at Camp 4 during Operation Cauldron, was at the School of Infantry on a Minor Tactics Course. Also at Gwelo was Lieutenant Peter Mincher on Troop Commander’s Course. In March 1970, the commando welcomed Major Pat Hill as OC. Also welcomed as troop commander was Second Lieutenant Ian Buttenshaw. Support Group The sub-unit spent much of 1969 on border-control ops during which time they were visited by the brigade commander Brigadier K. A. Radford. The monotony was relieved here and there, notably when the locals requested help in dealing with a cattle-killing lioness. Crackshot Colour Sergeant Terry

Wilde tracked the offender down and ‘drilled’ it cleanly and efficiently. The RLI’s popularity with the locals immediately soared as a result. In early 1970, Captain Ron Reid-Daly was appointed OC.

Exercise Rum Jungle In early 1970, various members of the battalion were selected to undertake a nine-day canoe trip down the Pungwe River through Portuguese territory and to the Indian Ocean. Training began on 28 February in the gym under Colour Sergeant Meacham. By 8 March, having been judged fit enough for the endeavour the participants did a practice run by taking four fibreglass twoseater canoes down the Hunyani to Lake McIllwaine. They started off from Prince Edward Dam in the early morning and covered the 25 miles to the lake by afternoon. They believed they were now well prepared to go down the Pungwe. Hah! They left in an RL truck bearing their canoes and equipment in the early hours of Sunday 15 March and arrived at the confluence of the Pungwe and Ruera (Rwera) rivers on the Rhodesia–Mozambique border at midday. The start was ominous—no sooner were the canoes launched than Lieutenant Don Price and Colour Sergeant Terry Wilde overturned their vessel. Slightly farther on WO2 Watson and Corporal van Niekerk overturned at the first rapid and all their equipment was lost. Behind them came Colour Sergeant Pete Eldridge and Trooper Ervin. These two were both swept from their canoe by an overhanging branch. Eldridge swam out but Ervin was left stranded among the branches. The group camped on the bank having covered a mere four miles. They had learned some harsh lessons —not least of which was to firmly and equitably secure the equipment in the front and rear to ensure better balance when hitting rapids. They set off the following morning with Major Rob Southey in the lead. In no time at all the following canoe with Watson and van Niekerk was swept by the powerful current toward an overhanging tree where it capsized, leaving both occupants to swim for it. In a carbon-copy repeat Eldridge and Ervin met the same fate, with Ervin being swept away downstream for some considerable distance. And, as all these things come in threes, Price and Wilde’s canoe had the identical misfortune, with the exception that their canoe became wedged under the tree, with Wilde trapped under the

overhanging branches. He managed to free both himself and the canoe but when they dragged it ashore they found it had been holed by a stump. By now lesser men would have called it a day. Ervin, who was skilled in fibreglass craft, patched up the damage and they set off once more. Wiser and wary they now made good progress, appreciating that every bend in the river harboured at least one rapid. If they judged them too dangerous they would walk them. By the time they made camp at the junction of the Honde and Pungwe they had covered 14 miles. They took the opportunity to dry out their kit in the scorching sun. On the next day, Tuesday, they found the going good with the distances between rapids becoming longer. Eldridge and Ervin holed their canoe on a rock but had patched it up within an hour. Along the way they came across an elderly African hunter and his wife in a dugout canoe. The man was armed with an ancient flintlock rifle which, rather incredibly, was in perfect working order. They stopped occasionally for Southey to take photographs. Surely possessed of a sad*stic streak he photographed Price and Wilde being spewed out of their canoe at the next rapid. They had the last laugh, however, as he later lost the camera overboard. They covered ten miles that day and camped near Jeque Mountain. They had hoped to shoot some wildfowl for the pot but the shotgun could not be worked as the cartridge cases had swollen and would not fit into the chamber. They dined on sadza (maize porridge) and soup.

Exercise Rum Jungle—Above: From left (front): Lt. Don Price, C/Sgt. Terry Wilde and WOII Wally Watson. (Back): Maj. Rob Southey, Cpl. Noel van Niekerk and C/Sgt. Pete Eldridge.

The Rum Jungle boys run into a spot of bother in the Pungwe rapids.

Quieter waters and a chance to relax and do some running repairs.

Operations with the Portuguese Army in the Zona Operationale Tete (ZOT), Mozambique: 1. Frelimo guerrilla camp north of Cabora Bassa, 1969. 2. Col. Rodrigo da Silveira (at left) briefs his officers in the Bene Base Ops tent. The Colonel was highly regarded by his Rhodesian counterparts. Ron Reid-Daly (at back) looks on. 3. Retreat ceremony—a daily procedure for the Portuguese at Bene. 4. Portuguese Army base camp, lower Zambezi Valley. 5. Portuguese base camp perimeter defence trenches. 6. Rhodesian Alouette III parked in a Portuguese base camp. 7. Portuguese Army convoy bogs down in the mud.

The following day they found the river widening into long stretches with jungle-type vegetation along the banks. At one fast-flowing stretch, however, two canoes overturned but were undamaged and were able to continue. Three miles from the bridge at the Tete Road, Watson and van Niekerk’s canoe was holed by a rock. The overworked Ervin, assisted by Watson, effected the repairs and progress was resumed. When they arrived at the bridge they stopped and went to the nearby store to buy supplies including Manica and Laurentina beer. Suddenly they found themselves surrounded by Portuguese soldiers. The Iberians, with their renowned hospitality, insisted that the Rhodesians be their guests. In no time at all they had the canoes loaded onto trucks and the convoy sped off to Vila da Manica where they were royally entertained at the barracks, enjoying a hearty fish supper followed by coffee and brandy.

The journey was resumed the following afternoon and they camped for the night on the dry Secuda River bed. The next day, hoping to reach the Gorongosa Bridge by Saturday, they set off early but soon found their way blocked by a large waterfall. This meant a back-breaking, three-hour descent down the side of the falls, portaging the canoes. Exhausted, they paddled on but two of the canoes overturned farther down with the occupants being swept downstream. Men and vessels were recovered—Price having received a knock on the head—and the trip resumed. They camped at the confluence of the Tuchumgage River that night having covered ten miles. On Saturday, they reached the Mezingase waterfall but were fortunate to find a passage down a rocky incline. The river was now much quieter and the rapids not too difficult. They camped for the night near the Tchombe valley where they were able to radio back that they had covered 13 miles. In the morning, they came across rocks, reeds and another waterfall. Price did a recce and reported that they would have to cross two fast-flowing gullies to reach a probable route down the side of the falls. They portaged the canoes and Southey then swam across the gullies with a nylon rope attached to the following canoes being guided by the rest of the team. Once back on the river they came to a very rough gorge with a large whirlpool. Here Price and Wilde were nearly taken by the swirling water but managed to swim their craft through. Forewarned, the following canoeists managed to evade the whirlpool but took on a lot of water. Farther on they again came upon a ‘sea of rocks and reeds’ and were unable to see the way ahead. Southey decided to cross the river from left to right and suddenly found his canoe being swept toward a waterfall. Through sheer strength he managed to evade it. The team then re-tracked to quieter water by portaging their canoes for over an hour. They camped, exhausted, on a sandy bank for the night. On Monday 23 March, they carried the canoes in relays and after two hours were able to get them into the water once more. At first they had to walk them through the fast shallows, however, Price’s canoe slipped free and was swept downstream. Price desperately plunged in after it and retrieved it. Later, with only four miles to the bridge, they found the river widened for a couple miles, which made the going easier. The idyll didn’t last however. Turning a bend Eldridge and Ervin had to back-paddle rapidly as a large crocodile came for them. By afternoon, however the team reached a point a mile from the bridge where the Pungwe, as far as the eye could see, was just rugged rock through which the water simply disappeared. Here they finally

decided to call it a day. They carried the canoes for half a kilometre to a road manager’s house, who invited them to supper which his wife prepared. Here they were well fortified with aguardente brandy. The road manager, who was going to Beira, offered to take them to Gondola. At Gondola they were moved to the army barracks at Vila Pery (later renamed Chimoio by Frelimo) where they were again warmly welcomed by the Portuguese Army. The soldiers arranged to drive them over the Pungwe Flats as far as Dondo (20 miles from Beira) where they could rejoin the river. Here, however, conditions were poor and swampy … and time had run out. They decided to continue on by road to Beira where they were accommodated by the military and enjoyed a brief spell on the beach before returning to Salisbury. So ended an epic journey.

Operations with the Portuguese A fact that not many Rhodesians were aware of was that since 1967, Rhodesian troops had been operating covertly alongside Portuguese troops in Mozambique’s Tete Province against Frelimo and Coremo insurgents. Being Portuguese-educated (my mother was Rhodesian and my father Mozambican) I was soon roped in as interpreter to RLI and SAS tracking teams operating with Portuguese soldiers. On a sunny day sometime in 1968, as a young pay sergeant in the Rhodesian Army Pay Corps, I was ordered to attend a briefing at the RLI Ops Room, where I was informed that I was to serve as interpreter to a tracking team about to undertake a clandestine mission to the Tete Province of Mozambique. Prominent among those attending the briefing were such redoubtable warriors as the late Rob Southey, (then a major) and Captain Ron Reid-Daly. It transpired during the briefing that ‘Uncle’ Ron had been on a couple of these missions before. He vividly described what a ‘nice little war’ the Portuguese were waging against insurgents, mainly Frelimo, in the province. I was to serve in this capacity from 1968 to 1971. Portuguese troops were mostly tough, competent men in regulation camouflage, armed with G3s (a remarkably reliable 7.62-calibre, Portuguese-manufactured, self-loading rifle of German design). I operated with the Portuguese paraquedistas and commandos (this word, incidentally, is of Portuguese origin). These two formations were elite and very professional. Then there were the conscripts—the caçadores (Portuguese for ‘hunters’). Like conscripts in any army these troops, subalterns and men,

were in their late teens and early twenties. More often than not we operated alongside these caçadores. There was no concealing the criticism of Portuguese troops by Rhodesians who, for some reason, expected Portuguese soldiers from metropolitan Portugal to possess the same degree of commitment to Mozambique as the Rhodesians had to Rhodesia. I spoke to many young officers, NCOs and soldiers on my frequent trips. Most of them resented being taken away from their families and homes and being sent thousands of miles away to fight for a land they knew or cared little about. Finding themselves dumped into the alien, hostile African environment most of them refused to believe they were defending their own country—an attitude not unlike that of young American conscripts serving in Vietnam. Once on operations with a troop of commandos, a tough sergeant named Madrigana indicated the bush around our evening camp and summarized the attitude of most metropolitan troops serving overseas in one sentence: “I will fight for my men and my unit but this country means little to us from Portugal.” We also need to remember that Portugal was trying to hang on to the remnants of a huge, far-flung, crumbling empire. They were already fully stretched in Angola and Guinea. Mozambique then blew up in their faces with the advent of Frelimo. By the late 1960s and early 1970s, there were over 55,000 troops operating in Mozambique, with over a third in Tete Province. This figure included a large portion of locally trained African troops, notable among them the highly effective Flechas (Arrows). But Tete was a huge province, almost impossible to patrol effectively with the available resources. Tete was a free-fire zone as all (or most) of the population had been removed to aldeamentos (protected villages). Drawn from the French colonial experience, it meant that any movement in the bush should theoretically cause a patrol to investigate and close with the enemy. In practice, however, it was a futile strategy as Portuguese troops did not patrol extensively or intensively enough, which meant that the insurgents had the run of the bush. On patrol, however, there was no doubting the readiness of Portuguese troops to engage with the opposition. Patrolling with them was interesting to say the least. I always felt in good company—most caçadores marched with their G3s across the shoulder, held by the barrel. Their attitude was one of casual alertness. By contrast, the Rhodesian trackers, in the more vulnerable position up front, always held

their FNs at the ready. When contact was made with the enemy, the caçadores would, as if all of one mind, immediately charge forward with total disregard for cover of any kind and uncaring of whatever opposition might lie ahead. Many of them, full of battle passion, would call out to the enemy to wait for them—others would mouth obscenities. I once saw Dennis Croukamp heading a charge of a dozen or more caçadores up a kopje from whence the enemy had poured down AK-47 fire. When he finally rejoined us he was in exhilarated mood. On one occasion, having discovered an abandoned Frelimo base camp, we were busy clearing an LZ for the choppers when the enemy, returning and finding us so few and vulnerable, opened fire from a ridge some 150 metres distant. The caçador, working with me hacking down a young mopane tree, almost by instinct charged up the ridge, armed with nothing more than my machete and raw courage. By the time the rest of the tracker team and I had joined him on the crest of the ridge with our FNs and grenades, the enemy had fled. To this day, one of the most memorable visions my mind’s eye can recall is of this infuriated, machete-waving caçador shouting obscenities at the departing enemy. On another occasion, operating from Chicoa, we were deployed to Missão Zambeze, a missionary station which had just been attacked by Coremo (the rival movement to Frelimo) who had abducted the resident missionaries and their flock of 500. When we arrived the place was a sad mess. There were Coremo pamphlets scattered all about, declaring their cause. The pamphlet was headed ‘Coremo não mata’ (Coremo does not kill). I clearly remember this as I heard later that the missionary staff came to a brutal end at the hands of their captors. Here I witnessed an altercation between Dennis Croukamp and our Liaison Officer. This was the second act of insubordination/outspokeness that I witnessed between Croukamp and an officer. With his fighting spirit up, Croukamp simply wanted to pursue the recently departed enemy and could not understand why this wasn’t happening, while the LO, for his part, was obviously bound by other considerations to which Dennis was not privy. While waiting on our next move we scanned the area. Among other things, one of the trackers found an almost-new .375 sporting rifle. I also vividly remember Pete McNeilage enjoying himself, driving the mission’s tractor round and round the mission grounds.

It was an RLI tracking team, comprising Pete McNeilage and Pete Clemence, on an operation code-named Apollo with Major Peter ‘Bomber’ Daines as the senior Rhodesian LO (liaison officer), who discovered the first Frelimo base camp south of the Zambezi in the Tete Province. I remember the open-mouthed astonishment on the face of the accompanying DGS/PIDE (Portuguese security police) agent who, up to that moment, had emphatically denied that the enemy had crossed the river. In addition to McNeilage and Clemence, also present were four trackers from 2 Commando—‘Blue’ Townsend, John Riley, Mike Schardie and André Kitchen-Master. Dennis Moodie, a tracker from 3 Commando was also part of the group. Townsend recalls that this mix of commando trackers was part of the formative process in establishing a battalion tracking troop. It was here that I first saw an insurgent killed. As we approached we heard a stampede of running feet which prompted us all to charge forward. For some reason one insurgent had stayed behind, concealed by a tree, but he was spotted by Trooper Mike Shardie who said to Townsend, “I can see one ‘Blue’.” Townsend told him to shoot. Schardie then fired and killed the man. When I saw Schardie later I could see the young man was visibly upset. When the camp had been secured a near-fight broke out between McNeilage and a Portuguese trooper over the ownership of a captured enemy inflatable boat. McNeilage, who had earmarked the prize during the initial overrun of the camp, rightfully claimed it as his. The trooper and his mates had, however, taken possession of it when following the trackers into the base camp. Peace was eventually restored by a suave Portuguese subaltern named Guimaraes who awarded the item to McNeilage. I mention this because I never understood the vehement stance adopted by the trooper at the time. The explanation by Dennis Croukamp, that all captured enemy ordnance was bought by the Portuguese government with the proceeds of the sale being shared out among the poorly paid troops, has gone someway to resolving the enigma. It was during this trip of New Year 1969 that a helicopter mishap occurred that could have resulted in several fatalities. The RLI tracking teams and the back-up Portuguese caçadores were aboard nine helicopters (four Rhodesian and five Portuguese) and about to depart from Chicoa airfield (the football field) to investigate the area of an insurgent sighting. I remember being the middle passenger on the rear seat of the second helicopter. I was looking idly ahead at some caçadores who were observing us. A couple of them were

straddling the crossbar of the goalposts. The characteristic high-pitched whistle of the choppers had begun to turn into the familiar froop … froop … froop … as the blades sped up. I then noticed one of the caçadores gesticulating wildly at the lead chopper, which was to our front right at 2 o’clock and piloted by Barry Roberts. We looked to see what the fuss was all about just in time to see the blades going wildly askew as they struck the ground at full speed and with terrific force, churning up earth and clouds of dust. The chopper’s Perspex was shattered with bits flying everywhere. The aircraft itself was bucking and bouncing violently out of control. Pete Clemence, one of the occupants and one of the RLI’s finest trackers (he later joined the Selous Scouts as a founder member), jumped out but Alan Aird, the air tech, grasped him by his webbing and hauled him back, undoubtedly saving his life. In the neighbouring chopper all we could do was watch with horror and helplessness as the stricken aircraft lurched toward us, still bucking wildly. Thankfully it came to a shuddering stop a few yards away.

Above (from left): Clifford du Pont chats with GOC K. Coster, Brig. W. A. Godwin OBE OLM Brigade Commander 2 Brigade, Lt.-Col. A. N. O. McIntyre CO 1RLI, Lt. N. J. Fawcett Adjudant 1 RLI and WO1 R. O. Tarr RSM 1RLI.

Brig. Passaportis (left), Brigade Commander 2 Brigade, Lt.-Col. A. N. O. MacIntyre CO 1RLI with Col. J. Caine MBE and Brig. W. Godwin OBE DMM in the background.

Drinks at the WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess.

Dining-out night (from left): Col. J. Caine, WOII J. Callaghan, Maj.-Gen. J. P. Walls, WO1 R. O. Tarr, Lt.-Col. A. N. O. MacIntyre, WOII D. J. Stein, Lt.-Col. J. S. V. Hickman.

The cause of the accident, according to Neil Kriel, was later revealed— one of the helicopter’s covers had been incorrectly stored between two Avtur

fuel drums nearby and got sucked into the rotors on start-up (the RRAF Blue Book SOPs stated that the covers had to be at least 200 metres from the helicopter). How it got pulled into the blades remains a mystery. (The reason Pete had baled out was because, incredibly, this was his third helicopter incident. In a previous accident, on 13 May 1969, Trooper Alan Johnston of 2 Commando had been killed by the blades of a South African helicopter as he deplaned from the aircraft dropping troops near high ground. The unfortunate soldier had got caught between the blades and the steep gradient.) The wrecked chopper was then dismantled by the airmen with incredible speed and every part of the irreplaceable aircraft was airlifted back to Rhodesia within 24 hours. It was at Chicoa that Noel Robey (then SAS and later Selous Scouts) saved my life. We had returned from a deployment and from the football field/airfield had hitched a short ride to camp on a Portuguese truck. I was standing facing the rear when Noel, with a shocked look on his face, leaped at me and, grabbing my head, pulled me down a split second before the vehicle drove through the goalposts, the crossbar of which would undoubtedly have connected with the back of my skull. Sometime in late 1970, I was on an operation with an RLI tracking team working with a Portuguese commando platoon on follow-up after an ambush in which two insurgents had been killed. The follow-up continued for three days during which it poured incessantly. On the second day, working in very difficult conditions, the trackers reckoned the enemy was not far ahead. We shook out into assault formation. I glanced down the line to get my dressing and noticed Sergeant Madrigana on my right. He flashed me a huge grin. The Rhodesian LO was to my left (this could have been Lieutenant John Dawson). We moved forward cautiously, wary of a possible ambush as the heavy rain made visibility poor. On the ground to my immediate front, half concealed in the wet grass, I spotted a Tokarev pistol, obviously dropped by the enemy in flight and undiscovered by the trackers due to the heavy rain. I looked sideways at Madrigana and pointed, “Encontrei uma pistola!” (I’ve found a pistol.) Madrigana came up swiftly and knelt on the ground beside me, parting the wet grass. “Olha cá!” he glanced up at me. “Esta armadilhada.” (Look! It’s booby-trapped.) I looked closely and, sure enough, looped around the trigger guard was a thin, barely discernible strand of wire that disappeared underground and which was connected to the pin of an anti-personnel grenade. My blood ran cold at the thought that I had very

nearly picked it up. This ruse was apparently not uncommon and I saw it repeated in a later follow-up. There was no time to stop as the sweep line was moving on. We found nothing but continued on late into the night before finally basing up. Observing the Portuguese signallers setting up radio communications for the evening sitrep was a revelation. The signaller would start with some sort of catchy sing-song into the handset for several minutes. If he happened to be in rhythmic mood he would accompany this with a sort of tap dance around the set. It was entertaining to watch and could be quite contagious depending on the signaller. After the ritual was complete he would lapse into normal Voice Procedure. When I first asked what this was all about I was told that the signaller and his counterpart back at base had by prior arrangement agreed that sitreps would be preceded by the bars of a particular pop song to assure the receiver that the incoming sitrep was genuine and did not emanate from a set captured by the enemy. The following morning the trackers eventually had to give up as the rain had obliterated all tracks. Despite their toughness, the caçadores on the other hand seemed to lack the physical stamina of the commandos and paraquedistas. This puzzled me and I have finally attributed it to an unbalanced diet. Though well fed, they appeared undernourished. This failing often revealed itself on long followups. Once, out for eight days with Second Lieutenant Bob Warraker (SAS), our caçador escort had to be replaced twice due to fatigue. There was no such relief for the trackers who had been cross-graining the dry terrain for days with nothing to show for our troubles but tongues swollen from thirst. Our water had run out the previous morning. For some reason I was carrying the radio and by now it weighed a ton. My legs had that familiar wobble that comes with exhaustion and dehydration. When Warraker finally called a halt in the twilight, I remember passing him the handset as I sank to one knee while he gave the sitrep. He spoke in a voice rasping with dryness and which included one of the most understated lines I’ve ever heard: “… water could become a problem.” Some minutes after this a caçador in our section opened his rat pack, from which he removed the small tin of pineapple juice. It was the only liquid he had left, yet in a gesture of unselfish generosity he hauled off the pull ring and offered it to me. To my dying shame I accepted, took a gulp and (reluctantly!) handed it back. By great good fortune the Almighty sent down a deluge in the early hours of the morning. Noel Robey and I collected water in his ground

sheet and the rest of the night was spent making endless cups of tea on my gas burner in a vain attempt to slake our unquenchable thirst. Daylight found us smoking soggy Texan cigarettes as we stood in the morning drizzle, our stomachs distended from all the liquid we’d gulped down …

RLI troops on a Classical Warfare exercise.

Lt.-Col. John Hickman CO 1RLI bids farewell to the battalion, June 1970.

Veronica Ferreira receives her late husband, Wally Ferreira’s award, The President’s Commendation for Brave Conduct, for attempting to save Lt. Viljoen from drowning in the Zambezi.

Ron Reid-Daly, the late Rob Southey and others were often deployed on such ‘Mission Impossible’ trips into Mozambique. Southey relates: … Rhodesian participation was generally based on intelligence indicating the

presence of terrorists north of the Zambezi, intent on moving through Tete Province into Rhodesia. Our forces comprised a Portuguese command element (on a number of occasions my opposite number was Colonel Rodrigo da Silveira, a fine officer), with good communications, trackers, together with Rhodesian Air Force helicopters in support. We were always flown in by Dak and seldom travelled by vehicle. On one occasion after heavy rain, the Daks were unable to take off from Bene FAF (Forward Airfield) with full payloads so we were forced to proceed to Tete by road where we were later picked up … I was part of this particular convoy. Present also in the back of the truck were Ron Reid-Daly and Ron Marillier. The journey seemed endless due to the constant breakdowns caused by the heavy rain and continually searching for landmines. Marillier seemed to be enjoying it all—possibly because of my running commentary, informing my fellow Rhodesians of what was happening and translating all the gripes and moans emanating from the labouring caçadores. As a test of patience, travelling in convoy was the worst experience one could undergo. Progress was at a snail’s pace. Because the roads were infested with mines the Portuguese had landmine detection and lifting down to a fine art. Four or five men would de-bus with steel-tipped rods known as picas, (after the bull-fighting lances). In fact, landmine-clearing duty was termed picada. The men following up were always very careful to step into the footprints of those who’d gone ahead. The success rate was always high. There were other diversions to break the monotony of these long drives. Once I was atop a sand-bagged Berliet truck, idly watching a picada team at work ahead and half-dozing in the oppressive sweltering heat when someone yelled, “Aí o turra!” (There’s a terr!). Sure enough, some 200 metres ahead, bold as brass, walked a fully armed man dressed in black. The gunner on my vehicle immediately levelled his machine gun and was about to let rip when cries of “Alto! Alto! É nosso!” (Hold it! Hold it! It’s one of ours!), followed by cries of “Não! Não! É turra! Turra!” (No! No! It is a terr! Terr!). By now the terr was racing for the trees and was into the foliage as the whole convoy opened up on him—even the civilian drivers. But it was his lucky day and he got away. Ian Buttenshaw, another veteran of these particular operations, recalls: … Every couple of weeks, RLI was sending two officers and two tracker teams to assist Portuguese operations from Chicoa (now submerged under Cabora

Bassa dam) from late 1970 through into 1971, supported by 7 Squadron RhAF helis. I went with Nigel Henson in late February and the Rhodesian LO, Terry Leaver, (later to command 3RAR) who spoke Portuguese. We were kitted out with Portuguese kit. My particular operational period wasn’t very active. Our arrival coincided with that of a regular paraquedista unit. They were very fit, keen and professional. We were dropped in by 7 Squadron and Portuguese helis at an old terr base to check out the area, as well as reacting to reported terr presence. The worrying thing was no proper maps—we would be given a pencil copy of a map, the reliability of which was suspect and when it came to pick-up we would radio through an approximate distance and direction from the drop-off and hoped they found us! They always did. [This was always the most intriguing part of operating with the Portuguese. Their subalterns and NCOs would beseech anyone for Rhodesian maps. The Portuguese high command was oblivious to the fact that ground troops require maps. For the equivalent price of two Unimogs they could have provided their entire Army with maps better than ours. On one operation, I observed a Portuguese commando sergeant consulting an Automobile Association map—this on an operation!] On one occasion, we were flown into a sighting, located tracks and started a follow-up in the late afternoon. We were based up on the tracks for the night. The heavens then opened; it poured all night and we were all soaked through. Around midnight, the Portuguese captain called me and my interpreter, Corporal Trevor Hodgson, over. The Portuguese medic was also summoned. The captain decided that we needed warming up so he removed the ‘medicinal brandy’ from the medic pack and proceeded to pass it around. The next morning the follow-up was aborted as the rain had washed away the tracks. One afternoon, while having our siesta at Chicoa, a shot from a heavycalibre was fired through the camp. We all dashed from our tents expecting to come under fire, only to find that a Portuguese technician, cleaning a heli’s 20mm cannon, had not cleared the weapon and had inadvertently fired it and hit the cookhouse, seriously wounding the cook. In reply to our concern regarding the cook’s condition, we were told, “Oh, please don’t worry. He was a terrible cook anyway.” … By coincidence my final job as interpreter was also nearly ‘terminal’. I was detailed to Mukumbura, on the Rhodesian/Mozambican border, as interpreter for Rhodesian LOs, among them Peter Mincher, Alistair Boyd-

Sutherland and the late Bob Davie. Charles Aust, then with 2 Commando, was the first LO. The Portuguese had planned a big helicopter deployment using commandos and caçadores. The overall commander was a cavalry colonel who actually dressed the part, resplendent in a large Stetson. At the end of the final map presentation/briefing this flamboyant character turned to Charles with a flourish and announced: “This operation we name for the Cavalry, yes? It will be Sabre Dourada!” (Golden Sabre). Based at Mukumbura, we would go to Abu’s store over the border and trade our Rhodesian ration-pack bully beef and pilchards for Manica beer. I had been there five weeks and was coming to the end of my tour when I noticed that I wasn’t feeling too well—I felt dizzy and light-headed. The LO was an officer called Russell (possibly the RAR’s John Russell) who was only there for my last few days. On one occasion I was sitting next to him on interpreter duty but everything seemed vague and far away. I apparently kept nodding off. This didn’t please Russell who shook me a couple of times saying, “Wake up Staff Binda! Get a grip man! No time to gonk (sleep) now! For Christ’s sake!” I’m afraid he must have formed a very poor opinion of me.

Minister of Defence, Lord Graham, centre, arriving at the inter-commando boxing championship. Front right is Lt.-Col. Jack Caine, CO 1RLI. Behind Lord Graham is Maj.-Gen. R. R. Putterill CBE.

Mess function at the WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess. From left: Sgts. Koekemoer, Alan Shaw and Anthony White. Ant White was to become a founder member of the Selous Scouts.

Paddy McKever (left), the first honorary member of the WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess. At right is Clifford du Pont who was to become the President of the Rhodesian Republic.

RLI mascot, Trooper Saint, and handler L/Cpl. Mostert.

The next day, surprisingly, I felt better and flew home shortly thereafter. On duty at Army Pay & Records Office the following day I was standing by

WO2 Peter Killick’s desk when I suddenly collapsed and passed out. Killick, a fine man (who later succeeded me as ‘Goldfinger’ 1RLI) picked me up and the next thing I knew I was in KGVI Barracks camp hospital diagnosed with malaria. All I remember of the subsequent days was waking out of delirium every now and again and seeing the face of wonderful Sister Steyn peering anxiously down at me. On other occasions it was that unsung hero Doc Davidson. Davidson told me later that they had given me up for dead having tried everything in the book. He then had the bright idea of shoving Camoquin malaria tablets down my throat every time I woke calling for water. These two dedicated people saved my life. In between bouts of unconsciousness I must have replied to my carers when addressed. I remember once before drifting off, very clearly hearing Doc Davidson, who was by my bedside tending to me, say to someone “Think I’ll stop talking to this one! I always get the impression the bugger is laughing at me!” My expressions of gratitude have always been misunderstood … I came out of hospital bright yellow—the side effect of a Camoquin overdose—which didn’t do much for my naturally sallow complexion. Contracting malaria was technically a chargeable offence under the SIW (self-inflicted wound) category, but I was fortunately overlooked.

Operation Birch In November, ZAPU’s vice-president, James Chikerema, was planning another infiltration into Rhodesia. This time the intention was to send 25 of ZAPU’s best men from their eastern holding camp, known as C2. Once inside Rhodesia, the gang would split up into four groups with Gang 1 destined for Melsetter in the southeast of the country; Gang 2 making for Umtali on the Rhodesia/Mozambique border; Gang 3 moving to the Mount Darwin area and Gang 4 headed for the Mtoko area. As soon as they were informed that the mission would be into Mashonaland, three of the men refused to go, stating that they would operate only in Matabeleland. On 11 December 1969, five of the group conducted a recce, spending three days in the country surveying the route to be taken by the main infiltration group. They also identified a safe crossing on the Zambezi near the mouth of the Chewore/Mwanja rivers. The group crossed the river on the nights of 30 and 31 December and by 17 January, had reached the foot of the Zambezi escarpment, some five miles west of the Hunyani River, where they split up

and went their separate ways. On the following day, two members of Gang 1 approached the guard at the Tondongwe fly-gate and bought some food. The guard reported the incident and Operation Birch was initiated. A JOC was set up at Mangula at 0930 hours on the 19th with 1 Commando. A helicopter arrived the following day. Spoor from the fly-gate was followed in a southerly direction and led to a resting place. The tracks were then lost. For the next day and a half, intense cross-graining of the terrain by the tracking teams and aerial-tracking by the chopper revealed nothing. Then at midday on the 21st, one of the RLI patrols re-located the tracks. Lieutenant Nigel Henson and a trooper, together with a member of SB and a tracker, were uplifted to investigate. As they were attempting to establish the direction of the spoor, they came under machine gun and rifle fire. Henson and his team withdrew to allow reinforcements to arrive and stop groups to be positioned so as to contain the insurgents. The troops then advanced but the very difficult terrain slowed them down and at last light they took up night-ambush positions. At first light on the following day, the advance was resumed and at 0730 hours, contact was made with the enemy (Gang 2) by Lieutenant Bruce Snelgar and his men. A fight ensued in the thick bush during which Trooper Brading was killed and Snelgar and Trooper McMaster were wounded. The three insurgents were all killed, the two outstanding members of the gang having deserted the previous day. Meanwhile a deserter from Gang 1 was arrested. A PATU patrol captured another and Lieutenant Garth Barrett’s patrol captured two more of the group at Kismet store. A further insurgent, captured by another PATU patrol at Mityana Farm, agreed to lead the security forces to the base camp where he said two of his comrades were waiting for him. On the 24th, with the guide leading the way, the RLI patrol attacked the camp, killing one of the occupants. The other escaped and, three days later, by now very hungry, he visited Mukamba Farm and asked a youth to buy some food for him. His presence was reported and he was captured. Gang 1 was now accounted for as was Gang 2 with the exception of one of its members, the medical officer, who was later captured on 13 February. Gangs 3 and 4 had crossed the Hunyani River, using the inflatable boat they were carrying and on the 17th had based up against the escarpment two miles west of the Dande River. From here they made two visits to Chitsungu

store to buy food. After their third visit, on the 21st, the African storekeeper reported their presence to the tsetse-fly control officer, Mr. Monk-Mason, who passed the information on to his headquarters in Salisbury. JOC Birch was formed and the RLI began intensive patrolling of the area. On the 24th, the men of Nigel Henson’s troop came upon two men on the road to the store. Both were in civilian clothing but refused to stop when challenged and then took to their heels. Henson opened fire, killing one man who turned out to be the commander of Gang 3. The troops began the followup of the escapee whose tracks appeared to link up with those of a further two men. These tracks were followed until last light. On the following day when tracking was resumed, a base camp for an estimated ten men was found. Tracks leading out of the camp and into a reentrant were followed. In the dense vegetation, progress was laboured and was further hindered by the discovery of several ambush positions adopted by the enemy as they kept just ahead of the patrol. Stops were placed ahead of the insurgents’ flight direction and ambushes laid for the night of 25/26 January.

Maj. Rod Tarr (OC 3 Commando) receives the award for Champion Commando 1970, from the President Clifford du Pont.

Lt. S. Carey.

Basil Matthews receiving the Best Boxer’s Trophy.

WOs’ and Sgts’ Mess Regimental Ball. From left: WO1 R. O. Tarr RSM 1RLI, Phil Walls, Lt.-Col. J. S. V. Hickman MC CO 1RLI, Norah Tarr, Brig. G. P. Walls MBE, Jackie Hickman.

Farewell visit to the battalion by the GOC on retirement in 1969. From left: Sgt. Farnden, Lt.-Col. J. S. V. Hickman, WOII S. Joubert 1 Commando RLI, Maj.-Gen. R. R. Putterill CBE, WO1 R.O. Tarr RSM 1RLI.

Some very scary men! The 1970 Rhodesian Army RSMs’ Convention. Back row right is Harry Springer (later RSM 1RLI), seated centre is WOI Pete Cooper (later OC Training Troop) and seated right WOI Robin Tarr.

During the night the Air Force conducted a sky-shout and dropped leaflets in the hope of persuading the insurgents to surrender. The tactic had no effect. At first light, the troops resumed tracking, finding a further camp for ten men and a substantial amount of equipment. However the insurgents themselves evaded the stop groups and appeared to have exfiltrated the area. Although the JOC was situated at Mangula, a Field Force HQ was established at Sipolilo police station and all four troops of Rod Tarr’s 3 Commando, complete with CSM Trevor ‘Rockjaw’ Kirrane, were concentrated in the area. 11 Troop was led by Lieutenant John Dawson with Sergeant Nigel Peck as his 2IC. 12 Troop was led by Sergeant Ken Reynolds (who was to die in a 32Z rocket-grenade accident in February 1970); 13 Troop by Reynolds’s best mate, Sergeant Phil Raath; and 14 Troop by Second Lieutenant Don Price.

On the 31st, two insurgents entered a kraal in the Bakasa area to buy food. They were promptly seized by the villagers who then all scattered on hearing gunshots being fired into the kraal. The fire had emanated from two other insurgents who had been covering their comrades from the outer limits of the kraal. Raath’s 13 Troop and Price’s 14 Troop began tracking, using Brutus, a police tracker dog. Progress was swift despite the discovery of five resting places and an ambush position. At 1030 hours, the tracks were clearly very fresh and Brutus was released, whereupon he launched himself forward, attacking the insurgent position. He was shot dead. Raath recalls: ‘As the tracker dog was shot we went to ground and lobbed in a few hand grenades. When things became quiet we moved forward. As we entered the killing ground I saw movement to my left and saw a terr lying on the riverbank, head and shoulders exposed, aiming his AK at us. My double-tap took care of him. His legs had been damaged by the grenades, otherwise he would have left with the other nine [Gang 4] who escaped.’ Enemy weapons were recovered and a follow-up on tracks of three heading eastward was commenced, only to be abandoned when the tracks were washed out by rain farther on. Later that day, an RLI patrol led by Corporal Dennis Croukamp captured a member of Gang 3 who turned out to be Phinias Majuru, ZAPU’s Director of Operations. Ironically, his mission had been to discover why former insurgent infiltrations had been unsuccessful. The capture itself is dramatically related by Croukamp: … Late one afternoon, having completed the patrol for the day, we carried out our usual dogleg to check on our own tracks to see if anyone was following us. The two-man patrol that did the clearance patrol returned to our base while we were still standing-to waiting for dark. I posted the first sentry and stood the patrol down. Suddenly the sentry warned us of the approach of a person, so we quickly stood to again and the next moment a terr calmly walked right into our group. He had not seen us until he had walked right up to us. When he looked up, the section, in all-round defence, had three rifles aimed at him, while the rest were covering their own arcs of fire. He paused, put one hand up, lowered his SKS onto the ground with the other, straightened and raised both arms above his head, all in slow motion, never taking his eyes off us. Instructing him to step to one side, I sent one of

the troopers to take his weapon and then to cover him while I searched him for a pistol or grenades. After asking the terr his name, I sent a radio message to my headquarters to inform them of the capture. This was done according to a prescribed pro forma. I reported that we had captured one Phineas. The next morning the terr was flown out by chopper but it was only a week later after the patrol was over that we learnt who it was we had captured. It was Joshua Nkomo’s Chief of Operations. The equivalent of a very senior staff officer, he was in the country trying to determine why ZIPRA was being so unsuccessful and he was on his way back with recommendations, clipboard and all … The following day, a police reservist manning a roadblock at Camperdown store, captured a member of Gang 4. Interrogation of all these captives confirmed that both Gang 3 and Gang 4 were heading for the Mount Darwin and Mtoko areas. By 9 February, however, no trace of the insurgents had been found and the security force presence in the area was reduced to one helicopter, one RLI commando and BSAP ground coverage. The next day, the Portuguese authorities arrested a member of Gang 3 near the Hunyani River and five days later, responding to reports of food thefts near the Bunu store on the Angwa River, a follow-up was launched but the insurgents escaped. Three days later, an RAR OP observed two insurgents on the Rhodesian bank of the Zambezi but before any action could be taken the insurgents were picked up by a boat from Zambia which took them back across the river. On 5 March, without any further developments, the JOC closed down. Stu Taylor recalls his part in the operation: … On the ‘war’ front, things were hotting up and between border-control trips we did the odd real live op against armed insurgents. In 1970, a group of infiltrators was located in the Mangula area and it became the task of RLI to go and rout them. We patrolled the area extensively and 2 Troop had just returned from a patrol one day when we were alerted of a sighting of enemy in the area. We were busy cleaning our weapons and our troop commander gave the order: “Okay guys, I want a stick of five to stand by for chopper uplift yesterday.” Within the troop were two FN heavy-barrel gunners (a normal FN 7.62, but fitted with a reinforced barrel and a bipod, for sustained firing)—a mate of mine carried one of these weapons and I the other—and we had a race to see who could have his ready for use first; whoever it was could have a ride on a chopper

and get a chance to see some action. My mate was slightly quicker than me, and as the helicopter settled in the LZ to take on troops, my mate yelled, “Cheers Taylor, get some more practice!” Little did I know at the time, but we wouldn’t see him alive again. As the aircraft lifted off, the rest of us embussed on vehicles, to go into stop groups, predetermined positions in the vicinity of the enemy sighting, to cut off any likely escapees from the contact area once contact had been initiated. We arrived in the general area, parked our vehicle in a secluded spot, and commenced walking to the head of a re-entrant that led down to the area where the gooks had last been sighted. We got into an ambush position and waited for the firing to commence. Sure enough, about 20 minutes later, all hell let loose in the valley below, and the fight was on. Our troop commander was down there and the first radio transmission indicated that the enemy had opened up on the stick, initiating contact and wounding the commander. Then the firing started in earnest and must have lasted for about 15 minutes. It was pretty intense as we kept our eyes peeled for any movement onto our position. When the firing ceased, the troops in the contact area regrouped and commenced sweeping the area—there was no sign of my mate, though, but as they swept through the contact area, they located his body in the area where the fire fight had been initiated, and where the troop commander had also been hit. He (the other heavy-barrel gunner, our mate) had been raked quite badly by what was probably an RPD light machine gun and could not have known a thing. When we received the news of his death over the radio, we were stunned—especially the corporal in command of our ambush—they had joined the army together and were good buddies. So this was what war was all about? Not really as glamorous as in the movies.

Rob Korb BCR, wearing Portuguese army fatigues, poses with his stick. Klaasens (extreme right).

Almost every military base in Rhodesia had some form of volleyball facility.

Alouette III helicopters fly into Tete Province, Mozambique. From left: Jop Oosthuizen (SAS), the author, Alex Binda (interpreter), Unknown (interpreter), Darrel Watt (SAS) and Chris Loots (SAS).

Support Group Ferret Scout armoured car. Alan Shaw in the turret.

Then there was movement in the thick bush to our front and our corporal said: “This c*nt’s MINE!” We all understood where he was coming from and the terrorist walked straight toward us—he was so close we could smell him. The corporal fired a single shot and the guy slumped to the ground and was no more. The corporal then approached the body and pumped what was left of his magazine into the lifeless body—at the end of it he just broke down and sobbed. We all had lumps in our throats that day. We had a lot to learn about war. As the days went on, quite a number of infiltrators were picked up, and from their general condition, it appeared that they were on the brink of starvation—their weapons had not been cleaned, they had very little in the way of kit, hardly any ammunition and, like us, obviously new to the game of war—the big advantage we had over them was that from a logistics point of view we were far superior. They had none … we had transport, rations, communications and home was a few hours away—they were alone in Africa. One capture, very hungry, thirsty and on the verge of collapse,

attempted to chew on a rat pack ‘dog-biscuit’ that he was offered and promptly died on us. So much for our rations! He obviously ate too much too quickly and it was probably the first bite he’d had in some time … The No. 4 Squadron Diary entry, as recorded in Beryl Salt’s A Pride of Eagles reads: … Operation Birch. A group of 22 crossed on 8 January west of Chewore mouth. First tracks found on escarpment west of Hunyani River. 16 January—first contact. 18 January—group divided into four groups. Choppers were of great value in moving troops into area and positioning stop lines in the very rough terrain. On one occasion, Cronners (Flight Lieutenant Graham Cronshaw) put Matra into suspected ambush site to speed up tracking. Chopper fired MAG both contacts. Cronners and Wenters (Air Lieutenant Chris Wentworth) providing top cover and telstar. Results: seven terrs killed (one in ‘funny land’—Mozambique six weeks later). Fourteen captured. One RLI killed in first contact. Two RLI wounded. One police dog shot. One terr outstanding … As a postscript to Operation Birch, on 21 March, two African constables arrested two members of Gang 4 in Mukumbura Township on the Portuguese border and on the 24th, the Portuguese security forces captured one and killed another. The final tally for Operation Birch was seven killed and thirteen captured.

State of the nation At this stage, Rhodesia was doing remarkably well economically despite international sanctions. (The British Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, had successfully persuaded the United Nations to break its own charter and impose economic sanctions on the rebellious colony.) Flexible individuals, the Rhodesians adapted to the changing circ*mstances in which they now found themselves. The tobacco farmers diversified into growing maize and other food crops to feed the nation. (When the country was handed over to Mugabe in 1980 all the grain silos were full.) Enterprising individuals, engaged in ‘sanctions-busting’ and in barter systems that flourished. It was not unusual for a shipload of tobacco to be traded for a cargo of auto parts. And so the country survived. The weak point was its dependence on South Africa and the Portuguese in Mozambique for oil, arms and their ports. Professor Richard Wood, the Rhodesian political/military historian and analyst, writes: … Zambia was independent and offered a safe haven to both

ZAPU and ZANU. [Kaunda was a ZAPU supporter and did not regard ZANU as the true Zimbabwe liberation movement.] The ‘liberation’ movements sought to send in groups to propagate the revolution on the unsophisticated assumption that the African people were ready to rise and assist them in driving out the whites. ZAPU in particular was dealt an almost fatal blow by making the mistake of seeking to create base areas in wild country from which to sally out … Lieutenant-Colonel R. (Dick) E. H. Lockley writes: … From 1970 onward, ZAPU played no part in the terrorist war. They were in a state of disarray following their decisive defeats within Rhodesia, and they took the opportunity of consolidating their position by sending their terrorists outside the country on extended courses to Russia, Cuba and North Korea. This situation with ZAPU continued until 1976 … There were no incursions in 1970 worthy of note …

Trooping the colour The ceremony of ‘Trooping the Colour’ in British regiments dates from the reign of Charles II. The battalion would fall in by companies and the colour party (those carrying the colours and their armed escort) would ‘troop’ or march the colours through the ranks so that every man would see that the colours were intact. This was done before and after every battle. This ceremony has been retained through time and is today a traditional ceremony. When the colours are being paraded they are carried by either an officer or warrant officer, dependent on the regiment. The colours always have an armed escort, the colour party, who are normally non-commissioned officers. The Queen’s Colour is always senior to the Regimental Colour. The RLI only ever trooped the colour on one occasion. This also coincided with Lieutenant-Colonel Hickman’s promotion out of the battalion. The Assegai magazine records the event: … On Saturday 27 June 1970, we celebrated our regimental day by trooping the regimental colour on our parade ground, before the public of Salisbury. The day dawned grey and ominous with no encouragement to those early risers in the barracks, who either could not sleep or had tasks for the day which demanded an early start. Those who were seen early in the vicinity of the parade ground included the Seating Officer, who is our Education Officer, which was just as well as the first spectator arrived at 0815 hours complete with rugs etc., prepared for a

long wait until 1035 hours. Others noted as early risers were the RSM and Admin Officer who were both at 40,000 feet and steadily climbing, which didn’t do anybody any good, including themselves. At 1000 hours, the car park, which the BSAP in their wisdom stated we would never fill, was crammed and parking commenced on the soccer field and other nooks and crannies in the barracks. The crowd estimated by the local newspaper at 3,000 filled our spectator stands and were standing on all sides of the parade ground. Joyce Hughes in her refreshment tent had a good day and the programmes, while not being sold out, were going well. Promptly at 1035 hours, the RSM’s stentorian voice could be heard, the crowd hushed, butterflies fluttered in stomachs and the band and drums of The 1st Battalion, The Rhodesian African Rifles, complete with Induna [a goat, the regimental mascot], crashed into the march Light Infantry and the troops marched on, in divisions, while the officers commenced to perambulate in front of the parade ground. Meanwhile in the officers’ mess our official guests had assembled for tea and were now moving across the parade. These guests included the Mayor and Mayoress of Salisbury, Commanders of 2 and 3 Brigade, Colonel Gerber, Lieutenant-Colonel Pinto Machada, Colonel J. S. Salt, President of the Regimental Association, CO 1RAR and three ERE lieutenants-colonel who, together with their ladies, now took up their seats in the front row, next to the dais. Now the normal handover/takeovers took place resulting in the CO fallingin the officers and all being ready to receive the first of the main guests, who were to drive on to the parade ground. So good was the timing that we only waited two minutes when the sound of the motorcycle escort was heard and the A/GOC and Mrs. Walls came on to the parade ground and were met by Major D. K. Dyer, the Receiving Officer. They were conducted to their seats and then the Minister of Defence and Mrs. Howman arrived and were met in a similar manner. The dull throb of the armoured car escort now was heard and into the parade drove the Prime Minister and Mrs. Smith. After greeting the principal guests the Reviewing Officer ascended the dias and received the general salute. The Prime Minister then inspected the parade, ending up with the band and drums of 1RAR, where Induna did his ‘thing’, which caused the crowd to applaud and cheer. After the inspection party returned to the dais the parade was stood ‘easy’ and we listened to the citation for the Commendation of Brave Conduct for the late Colour Sergeant Ferreira, W. R.

Mrs. Veronica Ferreira bravely received the commendation from the Prime Minister and returned to her seat, while the crowd offered its appreciation and sympathy. The CO now gave that famous short word of command ‘Troop’ and the band and drums slow- and quick-marched across the parade ground, in homage to the colour. Mention must be made here of the colour escort, which at this stage of the parade consisted of Sergeant Baker, Troopers Twells, N. T., and Cooper, R. F. The two soldier sentries were particularly smart when doing their double sentry drill on the colour and drew admiring applause from the crowd around them. The band and drums having finished, the drummers’ call sounded and the command of the escort for the colour was taken over by Captain T. Desfountain. He marched the escort up to the colour, the ensign Second Lieutenant D. Price, received it from the RSM, WO1 R. Tarr, with his sword drawn as per ‘the Book’ and then the escort paid compliment to the colour. A strong wind was blowing at the time and, in fact during the whole parade, and Don Price had his work cut out when he let the colour fly as it was trooped through the ranks. The troop was followed by a march-past in slow and quick time which again drew applause from the crowd. At the end of the quick march-past, due to the lack of space in the parade ground, No. 4 Guard (Base Group) had to complete a right form, while rest of the parade executed a left form. The looks on some of the faces in the crowd as this was actioned were very stimulating as some obviously thought the wrong movement had taken place while others didn’t fancy the 70-odd men marching straight at them. All was well and No. 4 Guard returned to their original position in line with practised ease. The Prime Minister and Mrs. Smith now left to a general salute, closely followed by the Minister and A/GOC, with their ladies. Now the Second in Command, this was previously unknown to the CO, took over the parade from the CO and ‘ordered’ him into a Land Rover, where he was accompanied by Major Dyer. The battalion was brought to the present arms by the 2IC and the band played The Saints while the Land Rover commenced a slow tour of the parade ground. As the vehicle reached the first guard the band broke into Auld Lang Syne and the CO thus proceeded along the front of the parade. At the same time as Auld Lang Syne commenced Mrs. Jackie Hickman was presented with a bouquet of flowers and a corsage, on behalf of all ranks, by Miss Tracy Tarr the daughter of the RSM. The secrecy

involved in preparing these two farewells was tricky and although no direct lies were made, certain officers and the RSM became quite devious and sly when discussing the last aspects of the parade with the CO and Mrs. Hickman. Now, with the Land Rover leaving the parade ground to the applause of the crowd, the colour was marched off and the officers fell out. A certain escort commander had great difficulty in returning his sword thereby completely putting his brother officers off their, up to then, immaculate drill. The battalion now marched off, under the RSM, being led by the band and drums of The 1st Battalion, The Rhodesian African Rifles, and that was the end of a most successful parade.

1. 3 Commando marching past in slow time, Colour Party to the rear. 2. Battalion formed up in line for inspection. 3. The Honorable I. D. Smith, reviewing officer and Prime Minister of Rhodesia, conducting his inspection of the battalion. 4. The Band and Drums of the 1st Battalion of the Rhodesian African Rifles playing the general salute, Induna, the regimental mascot, saluting. 5. Escort to The Colour—3 Commando form the right of line. 6. Escort to The Colour—3 Commando commencing the troop. 7. RSM, WOI R. O. Tarr, taking over The Colour. 8. The ensign to The Colour, Lt. D. Price BCR, having received The Colour from the RSM. To the rear is the escort for The Colour (3 Commando). 9. The Colour trooped down the line of the battalion.

Official lunches were held in both the officers’ and the warrant officers’ and sergeants’ messes, while the corporals’ club gathered for drinks after the parade. The Prime Minister had his photograph taken with both messes and

then proceeded for drinks to the WOs’ and sergeants’ mess, returning at a much later time to have lunch with the officers and their ladies and guests. A note of historical interest is made here as after lunch the Prime Minister had a cigarette, a habit which Mrs. Smith stated she hadn’t seen him indulge in for years. Was it the lunch, the drink or the good company? All three we hope. The day terminated with dances in both messes and a braaivleis/dance for the junior ranks in the Regimental Institute. All functions were highly successful and ended off a most exhilarating day. The battalion owes a great debt to the band and drums of 1RAR, under the leadership of Captain Ken MacDonald. All ranks appreciated the enthusiasm and keenness shown by them, especially in the rehearsal phase when they attended every rehearsal, whatever the time of day, or night. We must not forget Induna, who fast became a favourite, and to you all and to your CO for letting us ‘borrow’ you, we thank you and will not forget you … Here follow two letters from RLI officers to the RSM, WOI Robin Tarr: School of Infantry P. O. Box 734 Gwelo 30 June 1970 RSM R. O. Tarr 1st Battalion The Rhodesian Light Infantry PO Box 6310 Cranborne Salisbury Dear RSM Tarr I congratulate you on a magnificent Trooping of The Colour last weekend and the hard work put in by you and the men of the battalion certainly paid off and resulted in what is certainly to me—the finest parade I have seen. I also thank you for your hospitality in your mess on Saturday. Congratulations and thank you again. Sincerely P. W. Armstrong School of Infantry

P. O. Box 734 Gwelo 1 July 1970 Dear RSM Tarr I thought I must write and congratulate you on the recent Trooping of The Colour Parade held at the RLI. It was in my opinion one of the best parades, if not the best, that I have seen and I am sure has helped to carry the name of the battalion far and wide throughout the country. I know the troopers put a lot of work into it but without your drive and enthusiasm I am sure the parade would not have been as successful as it was. My congratulations to both you and your staff on a magnificent display. Even the standard of the Colour Party has not dropped since I left! If you are ever in this part of the world please do not hesitate to look us ERE members up! Yours sincerely, J. Strong

‘A corporal’s war’ Wood continues: … The completeness of their defeat depressed the insurgents’ morale while it gave the Rhodesian security forces solid grounding in joint-service operations through the JOC system of command and control which maximized local effort even if there was more coherence at higher levels. It also allowed the honing of small-unit tactics with the fourman ‘stick’ or half-section being adopted as the basic formation. Each ‘stick’ was commanded by a corporal carrying a VHF radio and an FN 7.62mm rifle (NATO). The corporal had under him, an MAG general-purpose machine gunner and two riflemen, one of whom was trained as a medic. Out in the bush, the corporal had autonomy and responsibilities not known in many armies at that level. It was a ‘corporal’s war’ for he had immediate command on the ground and took the initiative in many instances. The Rhodesians developed their tracking skills, devising the tracker-combat units of four to five men. They improved their air-to-ground co-operation and communication—in the process abandoning the plodding army radio procedure. They went over the border to assist the Portuguese with Frelimo and to stop ZANLA infiltration south of the Zambezi. [However] … The

Rhodesian Government made the mistake in this initial phase of the war of failing to expand the Army with additional African infantry battalions [author’s italics]. The Rhodesian security forces were also lulled into thinking that their opponents would always conduct the insurgency in such a direct manner. Thus they were ill-prepared in that respect for what was to come. However, these were good years for Rhodesians. They were winning all the battles and successfully countering sanctions …

References Geoffrey Bond, The Incredibles, Sarum Imprint, Salisbury, Rhodesia 1977 Assegai (magazine of the Rhodesian Army), June 1969, January to August 1970 Alex Binda, ‘Mozambique 1968–1972. Rhodesian and Portuguese co-operation’, Lion & Tusk Vol. 3, No. 3, March 1992 J. R. T. Wood, ‘Rhodesian Insurgency—Phase I: 1966–1972’, Internet Lt-Col R. E. H. Lockley, ‘A brief operational history of the campaign in Rhodesia from 1954 to 1978’, Lion & Tusk, Vol. 2, No. 1, July 1990 Lt-Col Ian Buttenshaw’s essay, ‘Operations with the Portuguese’ Dennis Croukamp, Only my friends call me “Crouks”: Rhodesian reconnaissance specialist, Pseudo Publishing, Cape Town 2006 Stu Taylor, draft Lost in Africa, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, due 2007 Beryl Salt, assisted by Wing Commander Peter Cooke & Group Captain Bill Sykes, A Pride of Eagles: The Definitive History of the Rhodesian Air Force 1920–1980, Covos Day, Johannesburg, South Africa 2001

Tenth birthday The regiment’s tenth birthday was celebrated with a special military tattoo at Salisbury’s Glamis Stadium on the 30 January 1971. The tattoo had been three weeks in the rehearsing and was the first such to be mounted by any single battalion in Rhodesia. The three-hour programme comprised drill displays, physical training and unarmed combat demonstrations. The event culminated in a skydive from the Battalion Parachute Club represented by Captain Garth Barrett, Sergeant Dennis Croukamp and Major John Pierson. The whole display ended with a retreat ceremony and march-past by all participants. One of the events was a staged mock-attack on an insurgent camp using dummy mortars and blank ammunition. Recalling the preparation for this event the late Major-General ‘Derry’ MacIntyre who was then CO of the battalion wrote: … We were in rehearsal and 2 Commando were to re-enact a contact in the valley. I’d been recently appointed CO and into my office came Lovemore and Langton. Lovemore was clearly unhappy and I invited him to speak. “Bwana,” (he always called me Bwana and I’ve got an idea that the word as used by Lovemore roughly translates as ‘twit’) “it is crazy to have 2 Commando do a contact and have Lou Hallamore painted black as the terrorist.” I waited. “Bwana, Langton and me will be the terrorists.” I still waited. “Bwana, have you ever seen Langton dying?” Pause. “OK, Langton. Die for the Bwana.” With an ungodly screech this black Douglas Fairbanks leapt in the air and came down in a mass of flailing arms and legs from seven feet up on to the cement floor of my office where he moaned, twitched and gurgled into eventual silence. I was shattered and said nothing, which Lovemore took as meaning that I was not sufficiently impressed, so he gave Langton an almighty rev for such a halfhearted attempt and away we went on demonstration number two. I gave them the nod and they were duly installed as two of the terrorists in 2 Commando’s show. On the day in Glamis at the end of the show, the battalion marched past the Prime Minister Mr. Ian Smith and the commanding officer. Headed by Major ‘Mujiba’ Hill, 2 Commando gave a smart eyes right. At the back of 2 Commando, their AKs appropriately at the slope, came Lovemore and Langton, dressed in civvies and every bit as smart as any troopie, giving eyes right with their mates and of course accompanied by a painted terrorist, none other than the now CSM Hallamore. I wonder if any other two civvies of any

colour have ever won the love and respect of a battalion to the extent that they were allowed to march past as one of them. I surely doubt it … Lovemore had been awarded the Meritorious Service Medal for capturing an insurgent who was armed with a Tokarev pistol in a beerhall at Makuti in 1967. Langton was killed in a road-traffic accident in the mid-’70s. Lovemore, on majority rule, ended up enlisting as a corporal in charge of the petrol point in the MT of the 1 (Zim) Commando Battalion, the RLI’s successor. Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Aust writes: … Lovemore was a really wonderful chap. Employed as ‘batman’ and general dog’s body in 2 Commando for many years, I met him when I took over 2 Commando in 1972 and in my further two postings to the regiment. He quite often went out on patrol and was very bright and clever as well as being full of real RLI humour! He took no bullsh*t from the troopies and was respected throughout. He used to speak very good English but could perform the RLI taal just like any troopie! At the end I engineered his acceptance as a regular corporal in the Zimbabwe Army where he worked in the MT. Alas since then I lost all comms with/about him. A wonderful guy who deserved so much respect from us murungus (white men) … Border-control operations continued as a matter of course. Cranborne Barracks, despite being very comfortable, did not lend itself to commandotraining activity. A lot of this training took place at any one of the battalion’s bush camps such as Makuti, Rekometjie and Rushinga—this last, in northeastern Rhodesia on the border of Mozambique’s Tete province, being one of the most comfortable, and distinguished by the fact that it had its own special written standing orders, one of which specified that every future company commander posted there was required to do something to improve the base. 1 Commando set the scene by laying the terracing outside the operations room and planting the lawn. With this policy Rushinga soon became a home-from-home for battalion members.

Nicknames, flags and badges With the passage of time the numbered commandos acquired nicknames. 3 Commando became known as ‘The Lovers’ not, as the reader may imagine, by any combined ability in charming the opposite sex (this is disputable as Major Hugh Rowley, the handsome OC, was much admired by the ladies) but

rather through their humanitarianism—although they were the first commando to claim an enemy kill (courtesy of Dennis Croukamp) they subsequently lagged behind 1 and 2 Commandos. This was highlighted once 1 Commando, followed by 2 Commando, started the execrable business of recording their kills with crosses on their flag. (This ‘failing’ was more than compensated for by 3 Commando in the following years.) The 3 Commando flag, designed by Beth Powell, wife of Captain ‘Spike’ Powell, showed a rampant yellow banana on a green background with the number 3 superimposed. Green was the commando’s favourite colour and was also representative of the years the commando had spent on bush operations. The number 3 is self-explanatory but the banana requires some explanation. During the Operation Cauldron period, Hugh Rowley was considering introducing a commando emblem. Spike Powell and ‘Dumpy’ Pearce decided that a banana would fit the bill. With the advent of their commando flag 3 Commando went ‘flag crazy’ and each of its four troops acquired a flag—11 Troop, a flag depicting a pair of feminine legs (or ‘Legs Eleven’) on a green background (in tribute to their OC, the Adonis look-alike Lieutenant John Dawson who was an ardent admirer of ladies’ limbs); 12 Troop captured the first Soviet flag in the country in 1968, which immediately became its troop flag. 13 Troop: this flag depicted a descending missile as this troop had the ‘privilege’ of being bombed by a Canberra that dropped its load ‘off target’ during Operation Cauldron. Fortunately no serious casualties were incurred. 14 Troop’s flag showed a sable’s head—in deference to its unnamed OC—a notorious poacher who somehow always seemed to evade capture by the ‘zookeepers’ (game wardens). The 10th anniversary military tattoo, held at Glamis Stadium, Salisbury on 30 January 1971, demonstrated to the public some of the skills of the RLI, including silent drill, mortar and Ferret antiambush drills and a simulated attack on an enemy camp.

Lt.-Col Derry MacIntyre chats with Ian Smith.

The parade marches off led by the Duty Officer, 2Lt. Fred Watts.

1 Commando was known as ‘The Big Red’, initially because its flag had a red background but later, arguably, attributed to the following fact as outlined in The Cheetah magazine: … In the days before Operation Hurricane, units would do border-control duties in their respective brigade areas. After several years this duty became boring, to say the least. In order to give everyone a change of scenery and a chance to operate in other parts of the country, sub-units would do a tour of duty in another brigade’s area every so often. This was known as ‘Op Swop’. In July 1971, the commando was on an

Op Swop deployment in the 1 Brigade area with its headquarters at the new Deka base camp. The OC, Major Dave Parker, ordered that there be PT at 0600 hours every morning for everyone at the base. The OC himself used to dread these parades and tended to delay his getting out of bed until the last possible moment. One particular morning he was running a little late and before the OC had arisen the troops had formed up a short distance from his room. A short while later this very big man appeared before the men wearing a pair of full-length, bright red pyjamas. This sight prompted Sergeant Bruce Antonowitz to say, “It’s the Big Red!” This name gradually came to refer to the commando as a whole and Parker’s successor, Major Alistair BoydSutherland, did much to ensure that it was retained. The 1 Commando flag depicted a cheetah seated beside the figure ‘1’ within the letter ‘C’ and later surmounted by a winged parachute. 2 Commando’s flag was blue and depicted its number entwined about a dagger. Its cognomen was simply ‘Ek sê’ (‘I say’ in Afrikaans) probably because this senior commando had a higher proportion of South African-born soldiers than the others. While on Operation Sable, Support Group, decided that their flag would be a German eagle in black on a white background, symbolizing the recce element of the sub-unit (Ferret scout cars were then in use) and clutching a missile/mortar bomb in each talon. In May 1973, Captain Noble raised the flag much to the displeasure of CSM ‘Rockjaw’ Kirrane. The background colour was later changed to yellow with the eagle clutching an 81mm mortar in one claw and a telescope, symbolizing the recce role, in the other. Probably the simplest explanation comes from Digger Essex-Clark: … In Brit-oriented infantry battalions ‘red’ was the company colour of A Company, ‘blue’ the colour of B Company; ‘green’ the colour of C Company, etc; I would imagine that these company colours were simply transferred to the commandos when they formed and 1 Commando retained the red; it certainly would have if David Parker (my ‘cracker-jack’ 2IC in A Company when I was OC in 1961–62) had had anything to do with it. Our company flag had a bright scarlet background with a large bold white A in the centre —nothing fussy—just the standard and traditional ‘leg’ infantry colours of red and white. I still have that flag that we flew on the Congo border in ’61, now somewhat faded …

The taal

It may be appropriate here to outline the special language/slang—the RLI taal—that developed in the regiment and remained unique to it. This peculiarity had its origins in a mix of Afrikaans and English with words borrowed from Shona and other indigenous languages. This taal (Afrikaans for ‘language’) was not dissimilar to the slang used by Rhodesia’s coloured people (those of mixed race) and South Africa’s Cape Coloureds. Instituted in the early ’60s by the massive influx of South Africans into the battalion, the language grew very quickly and spread not only to the rest of the Army but civilians also unwittingly adopted many phrases. The reason for its popularity could perhaps be attributed to the fact that its utterances conveyed an emotional appropriateness that fitted the troopie’s psyche. It certainly lacked grammar and syntax and most phrases ended in ek sê. The following is an attempt to acquaint the reader with a few of the more common words and phrases in use at the time: babalas: a hangover, state of inebriation. boom, gooters, stop, rook: dagga, marijuana (Afrikaans). breker: fighter or scrapper (Afrikaans). Burg: Salisbury (Afrikaans). catch some bennies: to suntan (in the beneficial rays of the sun). catch us a glow: give me a light (for my cigarette). china: friend (from the co*ckney ‘china plate’=mate). check you: see you, goodbye. chibuli: beer. According to Chris Pearce Lieutenant Nigel Henson coined the word. Henson had gone to work in Oman for a couple of years. When he came back someone asked him what the Arabic was for beer. The quick-witted Henson replied, “Chibuli.” It transpired later that he had made the word up but by then it was part of the taal. c*nt hooks: fingers. dop: to/a drink (Afrikaans). doos: vagin* (Afrikaans), not as derogatory as poes, generally used to describe an idiot. drifter: cloud. duck: to escape, move off e.g. ‘I pulled a duck.’ fart sack: sleeping bag. flat dog, mobile handbag: crocodile.

floppy/floppies: insurgent/s (so named through their tendency to flop down when shot). gangen, shateen: the bush (Shona). gapped it, took the gap: fled. goffle, point-five: a coloured person (of mixed race). gomo: a hill, kopje (Shona). gonk, catch some zeds, doss: sleep. goose, crow, stukkie, punda: a girl. graze: food, eat (also grazing irons: cutlery). grimmy: an uncomplimentary term for someone’s girlfriend. gungy: dirty. jacked: smart e.g. ‘I’m a jacked soldier.’ (‘I’m a good soldier.’). joller: an extrovert, show-off (from the Afrikaans jol—to party). A piepie joller is a teenybopper. jawl: come along, go. klap: a/to hit (also ‘a warmer in the butts’). kak: sh*t (Afrikaans). lekker glide: nice lift/trip. lemon: failure or wash-out. lighty: a kid or baby (from the Afrikaans laaitjie). main manne what counts: the number-one man. move: a tactical manoeuvre, e.g. ‘I pulled this lekker move on this hot stukkie.’ naai: f*ck (Afrikaans slang). nanny: and African woman. ouen (pronounced ‘owen’), oke, ou: fellow or guy (Afrikaans). poephole: arsehole (Afrikaans). poes: c*nt (Afrikaans) praat: to talk (Afrikaans) e.g. ‘Don’t praat kak.’ (‘Don’t talk sh*t.’). pull, slay, cull, slot: to kill. pull a fade: not show up, run away. rev: to shoot, or to give someone a dressing-down. saat, zut, zeet: no, nothing (from the Afrikaans). Skies: Bulawayo (from ‘blue skies’). scene: a contact (with the enemy). skate: rogue, bounder. skive: to shirk or ‘a cushy number’.

slayer, gat: rifle e.g. ‘I switched my slayer to sing’ (I co*cked my rifle and fired). smaak: to like (Afrikaans). snotsquirt, snotty: to shoot, a shot e.g. ‘I gave the gook a snotsquirt.’ snaai: cheat (Afrikaans). start, kite, buck: money. tick taxi: dog. trupp: to walk, a trek (from the Afrikaans). tune me/us ek sê: tell me/us, I say e.g. ‘Don’t tune me rough or I’ll file you smoothe.’ work/catch us a glide: give me/us a lift. zot, towie, hout: an African.

A trooper relaxes on the Zambezi with his fishing rod and a beer.

Extracting water from a vine.

Because of the vast distances Air Force helicopters proved vital for RLI operations in the Tete Province of Mozambique.

Without overworking the subject, for the uninitiated we can say here that an insurgent who had been eaten by a crocodile was in fact “a floppy what was grazed by a flat dog, ek sê” and “I think we’d better drink up and get a lift to town before we’re too drunk” translates as “I scheme we flatten these chibulies and catch a glide to Burg before we’re babalas.” To the layman a two-way radio conversation between RLI troopies could be totally incomprehensible: “Check this floppy, ou Sarge. I double-tapped him in the chest, ek sê. He was just jolling through the gangen not checking where he was going like, so I culled him, ek sê.” “Saat, ek sê, the ouk’s not dead like. Issue him another 762 injection like.”

or “Tune me kak, ek sê, I’ll saat you with a half-brick like.” or “You should have checked me clock that civvy when he tuned my chick anti-clockwise, ek sê.” or “Have you got wheels like?” “Ja.” “Then catch us a glide to Burg, ek sê, ou chinaaaaaaaa.” And perhaps the all-time classic from a coloured prostitute, complaining about non-payment for her services: “You RLI ouens smaak to naai but you don’t smaak to pay, ek sê!”

Social misfits Digger Essex-Clark relates: … that others within the Rhodesian Army often ‘looked down’ on the RLI. One reason for this is many others, including some civilians, saw the RLI, hypocritically, as a ‘mercenary unit’ because when we first formed as 1 Training Group at Brady Barracks we did recruit virtually from anywhere and haphazardly. In those early days we had some prize scallywags among our men, some whom we had to get rid of quickly, but most, with good training and leadership at the WO, NCO and officer levels, developed into fine soldiers, but we still had more than our fair share of courts martial for some dastardly and unmilitary-like activity, including desertion and many AWOLs; and it took a while before regimental pride kicked in and self-discipline and intra-unit unofficial discipline started to make a difference to our style and reputation. So, in the early days, we were often frowned upon by the dinosaurs in the Army of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland with the many ex-BSAP ‘Colonel Blimps’ and those of long-established RAR, NRR, and KAR battalions and those who had served within them. For how long the RLI remained in that sort of disfavour I do not know, but it seems that those early stains were not easy to remove, all our fault, but we were a rough mob and proud of it … Chris co*cks follows on: … From day one, the RLI garnered for itself an unsavoury reputation, which wasn’t much altered over the subsequent 19 years. In many respects the RLI was a mirror of the French Foreign Legion, in that recruiters paid little heed as to a man’s past and asked no questions.

Undoubtedly the ranks were filled with a fair proportion of rogues, bounders, criminals and the occasional psychopath (as in any strata of society). And like the Foreign Legion, once in the ranks, a man’s past was irrelevant and no one’s business—his abilities as a fighting soldier were all that mattered. There are a few ‘memorable’ examples, such as the Canadian volunteer who’d been declared criminally insane after shooting and killing a number of people with a shotgun at a bus stop in Canada. Somehow he’d ended up in the RLI and proved to be an exemplary and popular stick leader, before being killed in action in 1976. Or the urban legend of an Aussie who’d murdered his wife after discovering that she’d been having an affair with his best mate. Fleeing from the law to Rhodesia and the RLI, he was hotly pursued by his angry digger mate seeking revenge. The angry digger also signed on in the RLI with the primary objective of exacting his vengeance, but over time, the motivation faded and the two diggers again resumed their close friendship.

Border control—8 Troop, 2 Commando in the Zambezi Valley, 1971.

Above (from top): 1 Commando tug-of-war; An SAP Land Rover comes to grief; Support Group, Recce Troop Ferrets on exercise.

Above (from top): A Ferret bogs down to its axles during training at Inkomo Barracks, near Salisbury; An 8 Troop 2 Commando base camp in the Zambezi Valley during a border control deployment in 1971, from left: 2Lt Ian Buttenshaw, Tprs Hanneman, Price and Donnegan; 2Lt. Ian Buttenshaw and Sgt. Alan Shaw of Support Group operating in Mozambique nothwest of Mukumbura in February 1973.

The foreign volunteers certainly brought an interesting dynamic to the mix. The Americans and Canadians tended to be more ‘gentlemanly’ in their behaviour than their Brit and Aussie counterparts. They perhaps had nobler ambitions in wanting to stop the spread of communism, whereas the Brits and Aussies (and Kiwis), drawn from the likes of the Marines, the Paras and the Guards, were rough and tough and, apart from the military opportunities presented to them (in the main they were excellent soldiers), there were the myriad delights of a black female civilian population. Without the racial prejudices of their Rhodie counterparts, the Brits and Aussies tended to haunt Salisbury’s notorious red light district around Pioneer Street, frequenting the Queen’s and Federal hotels, where cheap coloured and black prostitutes abounded.

South Africans continuously provided the common thread of foreigners in the battalion, the bulk of recruits in the early days being Afrikaners. Many Rhodie volunteers were also of Afrikaner extraction. Like most sinners and wrongdoers the RLI troopie even had his own patron saint—St. Charlie! Apparently this was instigated by one of the earlier COs in an effort to protect his wayward soldiers. Troopies detected by MPs in town on a weekday without a pass would plead that they were on an unofficial pass to celebrate St. Charlie’s Day in honour of the regiment’s patron saint. One wonders how many MPs fell for this one. Popular Salisbury haunts for RLI troopies included The Lion’s Den pub in the Windsor Hotel, Le Coq d’or nightclub (‘co*ckies’), Brett’s nightclub, the Tereskane and Oasis hotels and latterly Club Tomorrow (‘Clubbies’), where the RLI would wreak their own brand of mayhem and havoc … Stu Taylor remembers: … Police and other units were also fair game. There were a myriad of bars in town, as well as a few nightclubs, but one in particular, Le Coq d’or, seemed to be where most of the social unrest emanated from—by the time we had consumed vast amounts of alcohol in various places around town, most of us would gravitate to Le Coq d’or to take on the world and its women, whether those women were with someone else or not didn’t matter and there were a lot of beatings. Unity is strength and whether a guy was right or wrong, his mates were always there for him. Many a time the police were called to quell incidents invariably initiated by an overzealous troopie as he tried to pinch somebody’s bird or assault a waiter, a mate or a civilian, whoever took his fancy. In most cases the police were repulsed by superior numbers, or the culprits were already away causing havoc at another venue. This would sometimes result in an identity parade. Those involved would be told to ‘disappear’ by the OC until the dust had settled, and then rejoin the unit. On one occasion, a few of the guys were actually apprehended and bundled into a police car, but a diversion was quickly mounted by one of the guys jumping onto the roof of the cops’ Bee car and executing a perfect conversion of the blue light into the night. Then the police came with reinforcements in the form of dogs, expecting the guys to yield. But a few guys just opened the car doors and released their mates who had been captured and unfortunately a police dog was killed in the ensuing mêlée. In cases such as these, some heads did roll and guys received fines for ‘acting in a manner unbecoming of a soldier and disturbing the

peace’. Not many cases made the civil court and OCs were lenient on their troops, as this instilled a good rapport … Chris co*cks continues: … From rowdy, boisterous behaviour to downright criminal activities, RLI troopers were a never-ending social menace. At any one time, over half the inmates in DB (Detention Barracks at Brady Barracks in Bulawayo) were RLI personnel, serving anything from 28 days—for minor misdemeanours such as ADs (accidental discharges) and sleeping on guard —to two or three years for more serious offences such as possession of drugs (normally marijuana and ‘uppers’), to aggravated assault—and others more colourful—stealing the commando ammo vehicle or attempting to steal an aeroplane, inevitably in a state of inebriation. Repeat offenders were common and one ‘older’ trooper in 3 Commando did over a dozen ‘tours of duty’ in DB. His first sojourn was as a result of this story: in the early days of border-control ops in the Zambezi valley, he’d been instructed to guard a visiting general’s light aircraft parked on a lonely bush strip. It started raining so the trooper sought refuge in the plane and, being a curious soul, he managed to start the machine. He didn’t know how to take off but had much fun driving the plane up and down the airstrip. Some activities engaged in by troopers were simply cruel, immature pranks. Defecating in a lady’s handbag while she was on the dance floor at a nightclub was one. Rubbing buffalo beans into the toilet paper or onto the toilet seats in the ladies loos was another cruel prank—‘buff beans’ were considered one of a soldier’s most feared enemies—to be brushed by the thousands of invisible hairs of a pod would prove agonizing and in many cases required casualty evacuation. There was the case of two troopers who had been given a lift back to barracks by a frail elderly lady. They repaid her kindness by robbing her of her handbag as they got out the car. Or the trooper who lobbed a fragmentation grenade into a taxi … These are perhaps extreme examples, but they do highlight the daunting task faced by officers, regimental policemen, military policemen and the BSAP in maintaining order ‘when the RLI was in town’ …

Notes Warrant officers’ and sergeants’ mess

It is not often that a sergeants’ mess bids farewell to its RSM. On 4 June 1971, the members dined-out RSM Robin Tarr who had been commissioned. Tarr had been RSM since 1965, having succeeded Ron Reid-Daly. Guests included Major-General G. P. Walls MBE, Colonel J. Caine, LieutenantColonel A. N. O. MacIntyre and Lieutenant-Colonel J. S. V. Hickman. All had been commanding officers of the battalion during Tarr’s term as RSM. After an excellent dinner by WO1 Noel Pentecost and his staff the guests were piped from the dining room to the Cheetah’s Lair where Tarr was presented ‘the spoon’ by mess members for the crime of deserting to the officers’ mess. Tarr declared his sadness at leaving the mess but tempered this by saying he was very pleased to be remaining in the battalion.

2 Commando The sub-unit attended commando camp for a few days in July to learn the ins and outs of limited war prior to the battalion exercise where Phill Lawton

totally ruined his promotion chances by persistently beating the CO at chess. In September 1971, the commando was busy on map-reading exercises and shooting at Cleveland range. After one particularly rugged rundown Trooper The Right Honourable Mark Wrottesley turned to the CSM and in his inimitable aristocratic accent declared: “My dear Sergeant-Major, in future I think I shall abstain from rundowns.” The CSM’s apoplectic response has not been recorded. The night shoot was magnificent, however, with the entire range lit up. 7 Troop emerged the winners. The commando spent much of the first half of 1972 on border-control duties. Most troopies had a healthy respect for big game and were adept at ‘hoofing it’ when confronted by large wildlife. 6 Troop’s Solly Swartz carried ‘cool’ a bit too far by standing stock still before a charging rhino which only veered off at the last second. Swartz later claimed he had outstared the beast. His mates had different opinions ranging from the fact that he had been frozen in terror at the time to the unkind assertion that the sight of Solly’s uneven features was enough to put any beast off. On this same trip Lieutenant Alan Lindner’s plan to conduct a 7 Troop commando-style night-attack on an island was hampered when the accompanying batmen Lovemore and Langton discovered a leak in their dingy. These two worthies immediately assumed command. Troop HQ was shocked to hear Langton’s voice over the air with the strident: “Forget the Roger! Roger! And keep rowing!” 3 Commando The commando was privileged to provide the guard of honour for the opening of Parliament in 1971. Only one trooper fainted. Through it all the photogenic Don Price managed to maintain a suitably dignified and martial mien as the photographers zoomed in on him. In July 1971, CSM Jimmy Jamieson presented the sub-unit with an awards plaque recording the commando’s gallant actions of the past. The following year began with yet more border-control work. At question time after the briefing for one particular stint Lieutenant B. C. Willis stood up and asked, “But sir, am I to understand that I have only one vehicle with which to take my troop to the bush?” To which the baffled OC sternly replied, “Well, you only have four men … “ In April, the commando apologized to the Army for the promotions of Colour Sergeant Reed, Sergeant McNeilage and Sergeant

Edwards. Shortly afterward Reed was posted to the School of Infantry. (Ken Reed has the distinction of being the RLI’s last RSM.) In September, the ‘Lovers’ underwent further classical war training culminating in battalion and brigade exercises which were very successful, with the commando’s skill at skirmishing being noted in particular. This was followed by night training and a week spent at the bombing range at Inkomo. Support Group Support Group, a sub-unit of Base Group, which eventually became independent as Support Commando in January 1976, had participated in most of the major operations and was composed of two troops—Reconnaissance Troop and Mortar Troop. Tracking Troop was incorporated into Support Group in June 1972 (and was eventually renamed Reconnaissance Troop in early 1976—the existing Reconnaissance Troop having been disbanded in January 1974 when the last Ferret scout car was transferred to the new Rhodesian Armoured Car Regiment). In October 1972, the battalion received the first consignment of 60mm Hotchkiss–Brandt mortars, which were supposed to be for proposed mortar sections in each commando. However, a lack of mortar expertise in the commandos meant that the weapons were allocated to Support Group. (In 1974, a properly constituted 60mm Mortar Troop was formed. This was later disbanded in early 1977 and the personnel reformed as the Assault Pioneer Troop. An Anti-Tank Troop armed with 106mm RCLs was also added in 1977.) Sport 2 Commando beat the Air Force (7 Squadron) by a fair margin at rugby, their fitness winning the day. Boxing was proving a great battalion sport with exRSM Robin Tarr (who had recently made way for the new RSM Harry Springer) the driving force behind the training, which resulted in three battalion boxers—Lance-Corporal Rose, Troopers Belstead and Mathews— being selected to represent Mashonaland in the contest with a Natal Southern Districts Team at the Braeside Boxing Club in April 1971. Rose was well ahead on points when a bleeding cut on his forehead was examined by the referee as the final bell went. Belstead’s scheduled opponent did not arrive so he was pitted against a very experienced boxer, D. Quinn of the BSAP. Belstead lost but put up such a spirited fight that he was awarded the Best Loser’s Trophy. Mathews was pitted against V. Wood, the current Natal

welterweight champion. Both fighters came out of rounds 1 and 2 even on points. Mathews, a hard in-fighter, was kept at bay by Wood’s longer reach for some time but he had got the South African against the ropes a couple of times. Early in round 3, as Wood came off the ropes, Mathews put him down with a terrific left hook to the head for a count of eight. The soldier followed this up with another series of rapid heavy blows that put Wood down for another count of eight, after which the referee stopped the fight in Mathews’s favour. On the 29 May, the battalion hosted the Rhodesian boxing championships at the unit’s cinema and counted three wins and three runnersup. On the 14 August 1971, Trooper C. F. van Zyl won his boxing match against K. Noble of the BSAP. Noble fought aggressively but van Zyl kept a cool head and used his longer reach to advantage, eventually bringing the policeman down to the count of nine.

Breakdown and build-up Earlier in the year Ian Smith and the British Prime Minister, Sir Alec Douglas-Home, had reached an agreement on settlement proposals based on the country’s 1969 constitution and in November 1971 the proposal was signed in Salisbury. In January of the following year, Bishop Abel Muzorewa formed the African National Council (ANC) with the aim of opposing the settlement proposal. The opposition proved successful. Lord Pearce, sent out by Britain to test African opinion on the acceptability of the settlement proposals by conducting hearings, concluded in May, that they were unacceptable to the African population. Smith blamed the nationalists for the failure. Politically it appeared Rhodesia was back to square one. Training Troop:

Recruits came in all shapes and sizes. Six weeks’ basic training tended to be a great leveller.

‘Locker Parade’—A cruel punishment, recruits were forced to transfer their bed, locker and kit to the hard-standing in front of the Training Troop within an unrealistic time frame.

Polishing the verandah floors with a blanket and a recruit as ballast.

Recruits G. Shearer and T. van der Zandt ‘boning’ their stick boots.

Above (From left): Recruits R. Monson, the Training Troop batman, G. Shearer, J. Salter and G. Costa take a view.

Richard Wood writes: … Exploiting the atmosphere of heightened political agitation after the African rejection of the Anglo–Rhodesian settlement of 1972 and Frelimo’s successes against the Portuguese south of the Zambezi, ZANLA (ZANU’s military wing) penetrated the northeastern area where tribal reserves were close to the border. Frelimo gave ZANLA what logistical support it could and had offered the same to ZIPRA (ZAPU’s military wing) but Nkomo was not interested. ZANLA made careful preparation for their coming campaign: politicizing the rural people in their Maoist fashion, establishing local committees, contact men, feeders, security procedures, and infiltration and exit routes. They recruited porters, cached arms and the like. They divided the country into provinces, named after the adjacent Mozambican provinces, and sectors named after heroic tribal figures. Their basic unit was a section of ten to 12 men, including a political

commissar who would establish a dozen or more base camps in an area in order to keep on the move. The units, assembling in nearby Mozambique in groups of 20 to 30, would only infiltrate when the subverted area had been prepared and contact men were in place. ZANLA eschewed centralization of command, perhaps because it was impractical. The unit commanders were chosen and dismissed by popular vote at section, detachment, sector and provincial level. Communications were by courier and letter (a system which the Rhodesians would exploit). A section would have a wide area to cover, visiting a circle of base camps in turn to politicize the nearby population, to feed, and to plan attacks on local targets. In order not to frighten recruits, Rhodesian firepower was not discussed. Thus a first contact could be traumatic to the new cadres and contributed to their poor performance in fire fights …

Operation Sable Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Buttenshaw writes: … During 1972, besides carrying out normal border-control operations, the battalion was involved in many training exercises, initially in classical war. The battalion conducted its own exercise in March/April which involved an advance-to-contact from just south of Hartley, passing the Ngezi Dam … I remember this part of the exercise very well as, along with my Pay staff I was part of Battalion HQ. I can testify that the ground at Ngezi is the hardest, rockiest shale imaginable—we spent over two hours digging in. Colour Sergeant Ken Seiler, the short-tempered battalion chief clerk and, incidentally, an accomplished bridge player, was more than his usual irascible self as he could not locate his Steradent (a solution for sterilizing dentures). Ian Buttenshaw continues: … The exercise involved several commando quick-attacks, a battalion attack, followed by a hasty defence and then a night withdrawal. All this was a prelude to the 2 Brigade classical war exercise in June/July, following a similar scenario and starting west of Karoi, advancing toward the Binga area. The whole of the RLI plus battalion HQs and skeleton sub-units from 1RR, 5RR and 8RR participated as well as all the brigade support elements. It was a successful exercise and, following the final withdrawal to a concentration area, two events occurred. Firstly Support Group and 1RR Mortars put on a firepower demonstration for the Army

commander, Lieutenant-General Keith Coster, and all exercise participants. This proved a slight problem as we had long-barrelled mortars and they had short-barrelled, so ranging was a nightmare. However, by putting RLI personnel as No. 1s on 1RR mortars it all eventually went off very well. Secondly, a dining-out night was held in the field for the brigade commander, Bill Godwin (the initial CO of No. 1 Training Unit in Bulawayo in 1961) who was retiring. He was to be replaced by Brigadier John Hickman, a former CO of the RLI … By the end of the exercise the battalion had had enough of classical war so picks and shovels were put away. In early September 1972, the entire battalion moved to Umfurudzi training area on the banks of the Mazoe River and two weeks of counter-insurgency (COIN) training followed. This proved to be ideal preparation for what was to come. Buttenshaw continues: … In September 1972, the RLI conducted its first battalion-size operation in Mozambique, code-named Operation Sable. Op Sable was a follow-on from an SAS operation in the same area. It occurred in a block of Mozambique directly north of Nyamasota airstrip, stretching from the Ruya River eastward. Frelimo had established several base camps in the area to operate against the Portuguese, and intelligence suggested that these were also being used by ZANU elements. The initial plan was for 3 Commando, 2 Commando and Support Group to march due north from where the Ruya River entered Rhodesia for some 30 kilometres and establish a stop line—1 Commando were then to be deployed to the east and sweep towards it. Rod Tarr, OC 3 Commando, was in charge of the march-in. We moved only at night and laid up by day. The initial stages were awful as it was through thick jesse bush and across numerous gullies. During the first day’s lay-up Rod Tarr somehow got boiling water in his boot and had to be casevaced. The second night was just as bad, and we laid up in the early hours of the morning. Shortly before dawn, there was movement between 2 and 3 Commandos and a fire fight ensued—the movement turned out to be cattle. Fred Watts (3 Commando) was injured in the face and had to be casevaced. The march continued, and the stop line was established. 1 Commando swept toward the stop line but large numbers of troops were taken ill from drinking suspect water. No contacts ensued but a lot of evidence was found of well-established terr camps that had been abandoned. 1, 2 and 3 Commandos were withdrawn after about a week and Support Group deployed farther north to search a new area. The other commandos,

after a rest, were also allocated areas to patrol. After about three weeks’ deployment Support Group was suffering several heat-fatigue casualties and were withdrawn to rest. Over the next few weeks patrolling continued and several abandoned base camps were found and booby-trapped in case of re-occupation. No contacts occurred and it was fairly evident that the terrs had become aware of the RLI presence and had withdrawn from the area. Intelligence eventually came in from the Portuguese of a large base camp, named Segurança, containing over 300 terrs, and north of the RLI area of operations. A battalion attack supported by air and RLI mortars was planned. The Support Group mortars were deployed to protect the concentration area initially and then provide fire support for the assault. The area covered by the reported camp was vast and we would have need of hundreds of rounds to effectively suppress it. To provide fire support for the concentration area gave us an interesting problem. As the only OP positions were outside the maximum range of the mortars, so they would in effect be looking directly at the mortar line when controlling fire and would be unable to call for any fire support for themselves if their positions were discovered by terrs. We established a Forward Tac HQ in the concentration area which was commanded by the battalion 2IC, Major Peter Rich. The CO, Lieutenant-Colonel Derry MacIntyre, remained at Nyamasota where he had comms with higher authorities. In the event the intelligence on the camp location proved false and no attack took place. All troops were withdrawn back to Rhodesia and the operation called off. Although no kills were achieved, a lot of valuable lessons were learned, which would eventually be of use when planning future ‘externals’. The major effect of the operation was that it certainly delayed the terr incursions and build-up in the area east of the Ruya River …

Altena Farm—the war ‘proper’ begins … again Rhodesian intelligence operatives at ground level had for some time been warning their hierarchy that things were not what they seemed. Their traditional information sources were suddenly drying up. They sensed that something was afoot but their superiors brushed off their fears, accusing them of being alarmist. The senior Rhodesian authorities had been lulled into a sense of arrogant self-confidence based on their security forces’ past

successes. This ‘slumber beneath the banana tree’ was to be rudely disrupted as a decisive new ball game was about to begin. Richard Wood comments: … Having established a presence, the ZANLA cadres (led by Rex Nhongo) attacked a white farm, Altena Farm, on 21 December 1972. The Rhodesians were now confronted with the problem of their enemy living among their own kind. The response had many facets. The system of joint command was tested and improved but psychological warfare was neglected. Perhaps this was because the war could not be won while the whites were in political control. In addition, the Rhodesians did not understand just how serious ZANLA’s penetration of the northeast was and were slow to evolve a counter-insurgency strategy … Security Force reaction to the attack on Altena Farm is described by Ian Buttenshaw: … In December 1972, RLI Tac HQ and 1, 2 and 3 Commandos were deployed in the Zambezi valley on normal border-control operations and were scheduled to return between Christmas and the New Year. Support Group was in barracks having just returned from Gutsa. On 21 December, Altena Farm in the Centenary area was attacked. On 22 December, one troop of SAS under Bert Sachse and one troop of Support Group RLI, under myself and Sergeant Frank Ricardo, were deployed to Centenary police station in case of further incidents. We got there late evening on 22 December. On 23 December, half of us went to the club for a drink, but returned at about 8.00pm in case we were called out that evening— in retrospect it proved a wise decision. At around midnight, reports reached us that Whistlefield Farm had been attacked. We immediately deployed and headed to the farm. In view of the mine in the road discovered after the Altena Farm attack we were extremely cautious the closer we got. In fact we approached the farm on foot for the last kilometre. We reached the farm to find the occupants, Archie Dalgluish and family, in a state of panic. The de Borchgraves from Altena Farm had moved there after their attack, and the RPG-7 (hand-held rocket launcher) that had been fired at the house had hit the window frame of the room the de Borchgraves were sleeping in, wounding their daughter. We immediately organized casevac and had to cut down the rose bushes on the front lawn to get the helis in. 7 Squadron flew in amid the obstacles surrounding the farm and took the casualties to Centenary. We secured the area and waited until first light to try and find tracks. At first light we started to do a 360-degree search with an SAS tracker team that had arrived, under Ron Marillier, and a

BSAP tracker-dog team was also sent. We were getting various messages of sightings and were investigating these to no avail. Eventually we returned to a small store about 500 metres north of Whistlefield and sent the tracking teams out again looking for tracks. They eventually found the tracks on the west side of the farm and called for us to bring the vehicles round to meet them, as their heavier kit was still in the vehicles. As we were about to turn off the main road on to a side track, an SAS troop in Land Rovers, led by Bob Warren-Codrington, came up the road proceeding to another farm along the same track we were turning into. I was sitting on the bonnet of the International (one-and-a-half-tonner) truck and stopped them turning along the track, and quickly told them we had found the tracks and were about to follow up. As we turned the corner the rear wheel detonated a landmine. I was thrown clear, as were Corporal ‘Bog Rat’ Moore and Trooper Botha, who, both being in the back, absorbed the whole blast. The driver, Corporal Gordon Holloway, and the other passenger, Trooper Boden, were in severe shock. I was not feeling too good myself. We organized a casevac but Corporal Moore died two days later and Trooper Botha eventually lost both legs. I left the SAS troop to clear up the scene with the drivers of our other trucks who later returned to Centenary. The rest of us then began the follow-up. We followed up all day in a general westerly direction, and moved quite quickly as it appeared that the terrs had not tried to conceal their movements and were moving quickly toward the Musengezi River. We almost covered a whole map sheet that day. Just before last light we were getting low on water and moving down into a very rocky river area which appeared to be a good enemy ambush position. I therefore decided to stop the follow-up, base up for the night and get our water replenished the next morning. During the stand-to that evening I found that Trooper Erasmus, who I had been calling to all day to keep up on the flank, had sustained a deep cut to his throat. He had been sitting on the bonnet of the police Land Rover immediately behind my vehicle when it struck the mine and was hit by a piece of tyre. We patched him up and he continued on the next day. At first light we were back on tracks, replenishing our water en route. About 30 minutes later we covered the SAS tracker team as it crossed a vlei. We followed them and no sooner had we got into the tree line on the other side than we found we were in a small terr camp. The fire was still burning and the food still warm. From the abandoned kit a hurried departure

appeared evident. I called for support and SAS sent stop groups along the Musengezi River to the west. We continued to follow up—almost running at times. As we got to the top of the Musengezi valley we could see the helis dropping stop groups and doing dummy drops along the river line below. We could also see the terrs who were almost at the river. They were heading directly toward an SAS stop group. As they emerged from the river the stop opened fire, killing some. The rest scattered. The SAS, a troop under Chris Schulenburg, then took over the follow-up from us. Our SAS tracker team and Ron Marillier’s section were withdrawn and we were positioned in OP/stop positions around the area. By this time, the rest of Support Group was arriving in Centenary under Ron Reid-Daly. We stayed for another day and a half in our stop positions before taking over the follow-up once more. No sooner had we taken over than we came across an unarmed wounded terr hiding. He had been shot in the arm in the initial contact and had lost a lot of blood and been abandoned by his mates. Later in the day the tracks were lost in very rocky ground and Support Group elements were pulled back to Centenary for a break. We reacted to various incidents over the next few days, including locating a landmine in the Gutsa area. This was as a result of investigating a 2 (Indep) Company landmine incident in the Hoya triangle. Support Group was eventually re-deployed to Dotito School in the Mount Darwin Area where I hit a second landmine on the 6 January. Support Group then moved back to Mount Darwin and was there when the terrs attacked the clubhouse. The sub-unit was later deployed to Mukumbura and operated in Mozambique … Stu Taylor records his involvement in the operation: … In December 1972, while on R&R from our last bush-trip, the message was sent over movie screens and other media that all RLI personnel were required to report to camp immediately. There were a few of us watching a boring movie with our girlfriends, and were relieved when the order to return to camp came; so we got up and left, bidding the girls a quick, somewhat teary and apprehensive farewell. What was in store for us, we knew not. It would be probably the second phase for us, in what would basically become a long struggle for survival. We were fairly disciplined troops in those days and by 2300 most of 1 Commando were in camp, in various stages of sobriety, drawing kit, rations and weapons. None of us had a clue as to what was going on, but we knew the form and just prepared ourselves for another stint in the bush. At about 0100 we received a warning order, outlining future

operations and no move before 0700. An orders group would assemble at 0600, where we would find out where life would take us in the morrow. We were already ready to move, so just bedded down wherever and waited for morning. At the orders group it was learnt that a farm in the Centenary area had been attacked by terrorists. In the ensuing follow-up, some Support Commando guys had been killed when their vehicle had detonated a landmine. 1 Commando had been told to deploy to a position 100 or so kilometres from the area and wait; the whys and wherefores of this move was only known to the hierarchy, so us lowly troops just embarked on vehicles and went along for the ride. We arrived at our destination after dark, no orders were given to the troops, but the OC and troop commanders spent the night poring over maps and discussing a plan of action—but even they did not have a clue as to what was going on. We spent three days doing what peacetime soldiers normally do—nothing. On the fourth day, we were galvanized into action and received orders to proceed to Centenary—this made more sense, as that’s where the action was —the army was getting the hang of things! In all fairness, there had been a rocket fired at the DC’s offices in Mount Darwin, which had failed to detonate, and our position was some 30 to 40 kilometres north of that, so maybe someone at a higher level was thinking. Subsequent intelligence revealed that four attacks were to have been carried out simultaneously, but the only sort of successful one had been the one on the farmhouse—these gooks had as much to learn as we did. As a result of this move our OC was hauled over the coals for being in an operational area in ‘soft-bodied’ vehicles. We still had our Land Rovers and were meant to be in mineproofed vehicles apparently but it was the first our OC had heard about this latest development on the warfront, so there must have been a breakdown in communication somewhere along the line. None of our vehicles hit anything, so all was well. But we did limit our road travel. In fact we did very little in looking after this small and isolated farming community, as I don’t think anyone actually knew what to do … we just seemed to be waiting for someone to bring the war to us. We did no patrolling, no ambushing, no nothing. There couldn’t have been any information coming in, so we just sat. The bulk of the commando was deployed at Mount Darwin and 1 Troop, of which I was part, holed up in Centenary for about two weeks. We became bored, so our troop commander decided to introduce early morning PT to our

programme. This was considered totally off sides and after the second day we decided to put a halt to this nonsense. I mean we were frontline troops— PT—what next! Being a corporal in an army critically short of manpower rendered one quite an important individual—in fact second only to the troop commander (a lieutenant). I was a corporal at that stage in my life and it was my task to detail the nightly guard. It was my prerogative, so I detailed myself the last stint each morning, and it was traditionally the last guard’s duty to make early morning tea for the troop, which I gladly did, for into the troop commander’s mug went two crushed Polaromine tablets (quite a powerful anti-histamine which has the side effect of making one very drowsy). Invariably he would have a second cup (“Corporal Taylor, you make a bloody nice cup of tea!”) and in would go another two crushed Polaromines. To add insult to injury, the troop medic, also a corporal, suggested that on waking from his drug-induced sleep, the troop commander would be quite thirsty, so it was decided to add a few Vegelax (laxatives) to his drinking water, which hung in a watercooler bag outside his bivvy. After the third day the early morning PT sessions were no more, as our poor troop commander was either confined to his sleeping bag or the toilet. That would teach him to try and make first-class fighting men out of us—I mean, we were guarding the country against dangerous, communist-trained infiltrators—what next!

ZANLA opened its summer campaign of 1972 with attacks on isolated white farms in the Centenary District. Landmines were used effectively by the guerrillas and caught the security forces unprepared. Pictured here is a destroyed Reserve Holding Unit (RHU) vehicle.

Support Group truck after the landmine incident at Whistlefield Farm in the Centenary area, 23 December 1972. This was the catalyst for the opening of Operation Hurricane. In the vehicle at the time were Lt. Ian Buttenshaw, Cpl. Gordon Holloway (driver), Cpl. Norman Moore (died from his injuries), Tpr. Rod Bowden and Tpr. Pete Botha (lost both legs).

There was also a bar available, as we were based at the local country club, so we could keep our drinking skills honed to perfection. As the days wore on we sampled many beers. The initial excitement of the farm attack seemed to have died down and we reverted to what seemed like a peacetime role. During our time based in Centenary, we conducted one ambush, which if it hadn’t been for our troop officer sleeping on guard (possibly from an overdose of anti-histamines), could have nailed a few terrs, or at least gained some intelligence as to their movements. We were tasked to ambush a certain area and sometime during the night, a sixth sense that all was not well woke me up to see a few dark figures retreating hurriedly out of our ambush area. The bush was thick and it was a dark night so opening fire on something that was not there seemed foolish. Our dear troop commander, who was meant to be on stag, was in fact sleeping. On waking him, the first thing he muttered was “My safety-catch jammed.” I mentioned something about “your bloody safety-catch shouldn’t be on anyway”, but the situation had been blown. Later on that night I heard what sounded like a Gurynov wheel-mounted medium machine gun being dragged through the bush a few hundred yards away, but when I brought this to his attention he told me it was my imagination, so I left it at that. However, the following morning we did locate wheeled tracks and followed them until we lost them in rocky ground. The gooks would have had six or seven hours’ lead on us, so they were free to do what they liked, as the matter was not pursued … This was the tentative start by the enemy, the beginning of the chimurenga —their war of liberation. And so commenced Operation Hurricane. From here on, building a steady momentum over the next three or four years, the trickle would slowly become an unstoppable deluge.

References Maj-Gen Derry MacIntyre’s recollections are from The Cheetah (magazine of the RLI), Vol. 3. No. 5, December 1979 Regimental and training backgrounds are from The Cheetah, souvenir edition, 31 October 1980 Description of the RLI taal is derived partially from a Rhodesia Herald article authored by Keith Simpson, with additional references from Chris co*cks and Geoffrey Bond (The Incredibles, Sarum Imprint, Salisbury, Rhodesia 1977) Assegai, February, April & May 1970; May, July & September 1971 J. R. T. Wood, ‘Rhodesian Insurgency—Phase II: 1972–1974’, Internet Stu Taylor, draft Lost in Africa, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, due 2007

Support Group’s second landmine—Nyawedza Store near Dotito in the Mount Darwin area, 6 January, 1973.

Operation Sable:

Support Group personnel in a deserted ZANLA camp. From left: Corporals Dave Monks and Norman ‘Bograt’ Moore, Lt. Ian Buttenshaw and Lt. Steve Cary.

Helicopter pick-up at Nyamasota airstrip prior to attack on Segurança camp.

Lieutenants Steve Cary (RSO) and Ian Buttenshaw (2IC Support Group).

Support Group troops await uplift at Nyamasota.

Bruce ‘Landmine Mac’ McGregor.

3 Commando stick prepares for a cordon and search operation at St. Albert’s Mission, 1975. Reserve Holding Unit (RHU) troops were used to guard the vehicles.

‘Landmine Mac’ poses with an RHU soldier.

‘Landmine Mac’ was the driver of this vehicle that hit a landmine in the Chesa African Purchase Land.

Two ex-RLI RSMs, at left, Maj. R. F. Reid-Daly (CO Selous Scouts) and Capt. R. O. Tarr (Training Officer 1RLI), seen here at an Officers’ Mess dining-in night, May 1975. It was significant that both men were retained in the battalion on being commissioned as this is not the norm.

Miss Rhodesia 1975, Jane Bird visits 1 Commando. From left: Dave Roberts, Bernard Hoskins and Gary Huxham.

Lt.-Col. Rob Southey (CO 1RLI, April 1973–74) drinks traditional beer with the locals.

Top: 2 Troop, I Commando, 1974; Middle: Support Group troops; Above: 8 Troop men brew up, from left: Troopers Hanneman, Kevin Donnegan and Lt. Buttenshaw

Top: Ian Buttenshaw; Middle: Support Group personnel still manage a smile in sodden conditions; Above: Support Group mortar team poses prior to the attack on Segurança 2, March 1973.

Top: 8 Troop takes a break, from left: Unknown, Mike Kerr and Ian Buttenshaw ; Middle: A Support Group patrol during a cordon and sweep operation in the Mount Darwin hills, 1973; Above: Relay station on the summit of Mt. Darwin.

Above and below: Rhodesian Government propaganda written in English and chiShona.

ZANLA’s own propaganda was rough and ready but probably more effective.

Rhodesian Army recruiting poster.

Lt. Rick Passaportis, Bronze Cross of Rhodesia and Sgt. Pete McNeilage, Silver Cross of Rhodesia.

Trooper Rusty Drysdale in a Portuguese Army poncho.

1 Commnado’s call sign 11Bravo on patrol in the Mount Darwin area, from left: Spook Hughes, Colin Welch, Rusty Drysdale and Chalkie van Schalkwyk.

An RLI recruiting poster. Officers did not carry MAG machine guns and by 1975 berets were not worn into combat. But you can’t beat this for glamour.

Above and below: A Support Group patrol ‘takes five’ during a cordon and sweep operation in the Mount Darwin hills, 1973.

Support Group troops prepare for helicopter uplift at Nyamasota airstrip, for attack on Segurança 2, March 1973.

RLI troops swimming in the Ruia River near Mt. Darwin.

Support Group personnel after an abortive night attack on an alleged guerrilla cave hideout on the southern slopes of Mt. Darwin.

Ferret training at Mt. Darwin, April 1973, following the deployment of the whole of Recce Troop as convoy escorts in the Op Hurricane area.

Support Group troops relax at a deserted farmhouse, where they are based up in the Mt. Darwin area.

Alan Gingles (left) and Ian Buttenshaw.

Spook Hughes and Leon Ferreira monkey about on the summit of Mt. Darwin.

4 Troop, 1 Commando, 1975. Back row from left: Dave Firth, Jan van Bruggen, Doug Cookson (KIA), Terry Vice, Paddy Gallagher and Colin Naudé. Front row from left: Mike Ferguson, Hennie VanVuuren, Ken Pieterse, Rob Whittal, Dave Gunns, and Brian McMaster.

4 Troop, 1 Commando, 1975. Other faces include Vince Buckingham (standing at far right), Dave Hosking (standing 2nd from right), Gary Tiernan (standing 3rd from right), L. Bishop (with the rifle grenade fixed), Gavin Chilcott (curly blond hair, kneeling).

2 Troop, 1 Commando, 1975. On the truck 3rd from left is Alan Hawke and 4th from left is Richard Faulkes. Standing from left: unknown, Dave Hosking, unknown, Chris Ras, Pete White (KIA), Marshall Ross, unknown.

Dave Firth and Colin Naudé, 1 Commando, Fireforce Mt. Darwin, 1975.

Mike Ferguson and Hennie van Vuuren, 1 Commando, Fireforce Mt. Darwin, 1975.

Air Force and RLI officers relax together at JOC Mount Darwin. From left: Unknown RhAF officer; unknown SAAF pilot; Lt.-Col. Rob Southey (CO 1 RLI, 1973-74) and Lt. Simon Haarhoff.

The daily and seemingly endless grind of filling sandbags—needed for bunkers and vehicle landmineproofing.

In the Mazoe Hills. Standing: Phil Henning and Ian Mackintosh. Seated: Graham Shearer and Dave Pickering (later wounded in action).

Recruit Chris Diedricks hams it up by popping his false teeth. He was killed in action on 28 February 1976.

1 Commando’s Jannie van Bruggen and the legendary one-armed Porkie!

Fireforce Base, Mt. Darwin. From left: Troopers Gerry Doyle, Ian Mackintosh and Pete Rautenbach. The armoured vehicle is a Rhodesianmodified ‘Hippo’.

Boys on the back of a truck. 8 Troop, 2 Commando on their way ‘to the bush’. From left: unknown, Mike Shipton, Enzo Rossi and Mike Miller (at top). On the right in the foreground are Ian Mackintosh and Gerry Doyle.

Leon Ferreira at the Ruia Falls near Mt. Darwin

George Rosario and Rusty Drysdale in the Umfurdzi area south of Mt. Darwin.

Two troopers racing with the locals’ toy wire cars in a kraal.

An Air Force Dakota DC-3 lands at the Pfungwe airstrip, bringing in supplies to RLI troops.

10 Troop, 2 Commando on patrol in the Kandeya.

10 Troop, 2 Commando on patrol in the Kandeya. L/Cpl. Jannie de Beer (KIA) leads Tprs. Hannes Wessels and John Mullins across a stream.

10 Troop, 2 Commando lie up away from the OP position in the Kandeya TTL, 1974. From left: John Mullins, Derek Collett and Jannie de Beer. The OP position appears untidy—as the conflict intensified soldiers would have all their kit packed away, ready for immediate evacuation, except for what they were using at the time.

C/Sgt. Gerrish, Lt. Walters, WOII Stokes.

Pete White (with letter) and Dave Hosking relax in their tent. They appear to have just opened, very messily, a ‘goodies parcel’ of gifts. White was KIA on 28 February 1976 and Hosking was critically wounded in the same action.

Troopies hang out on a 4.5 truck. There’s an element of serenity in this photo.

Quarter Guard mounted for a visiting dignitary at the main gates of Cranborne Barracks. Freedom of the City, Salisbury, 1975.

Lt.-Col. David Parker (CO 1RLI) reviews the troops. Behind him, from left: Maj. Charlie Aust, Maj Boet Swart and Pat Armstrong.

Maj. Boet Swart escorts the Mayor, Councillor G. H. Tanser.

The officers salute as the Freedom Scroll is paraded.

Lt. Rick Passaportis with the colours. The sergeant on the right is Derrick Taylor.

“Eyes right!” as the battalion marches past, led by Lt.-Col. Parker

Sergeant Pete White stands easy.

Operation Hurricane—and ZANLA tests the waters When Rex Nhongo (‘male goat’ in Shona—the chimurenga name, or nom de guerre, for Solomon Tapfumaneyi Mutuswa), commander of ZANLA’s Nehanda Sector, ordered his deputy Jairos and nine of his men to attack Altena Farm he was not so much interested in the possible success or failure of the mission—the ramifications of Rhodesia’s newly declared Operation Hurricane were what interested him. His men had no warfare experience and he needed to study the security forces’ reaction to the attack. He and his men were based up in the Chiweshe Tribal Trust Land (TTL) where the chief of the same name had been an early supporter. As a result of the raid security force action confirmed ZANLA’s belief that their new, essentially Maoist,

tactics were the correct ones. ‘It was the start of a whole new ball game,’ wrote Lockley. ‘Instead of having the tribesmen willingly coming forward reporting the presence of terrorists, we now had the situation where the insurgents had prepared the ground before an overt act of terrorism took place. Generally speaking the Kore Kore (a Shona clan) gave passive support to the terrorists by not reporting their presence and by being uncooperative with government agencies. Within a matter of weeks, it was realized that the war proper had started as more farm attacks took place and more and more terrorists entered Rhodesia from the northeastern area.’ The Rhodesians were more than baffled. The rural population in the northeast were found to be almost totally subverted and intimidated by the enemy. Dirt roads were now increasingly found to be mined and casualties started mounting. Morale among the security forces took a tumble through the inability to come to grips with the enemy whose new strategy precluded confrontation with the military.

The ‘cordon sanitaire’ and protected villages New tactics were required. A vast border minefield, 25 metres-wide was laid—the ‘cordon sanitaire’—initially extending from the Muzengedzi to the Mazoe River. However, as Richard Wood writes: … because there were not enough troops to dominate it or at least monitor it, the concept was changed to a width of anything between eight and 30 kilometres, with pressure mines supplementing ploughshares. Eventually the length was 1,400 kilometres, the longest military obstacle in the world outside the Great Wall of China. The minefield had its critics and has left a terrible legacy to Zimbabwe. ZANLA was to estimate that it had suffered 8,000 casualties in transit across the mines … In an attempt to deny the insurgents access to the local population and to protect the tribesmen and their families they were moved into protected villages (PVs). Lockley continues: … July 1973 saw the first major abduction of schoolchildren by terrorists. St. Albert’s Mission on the escarpment was attacked by a gang of terrorists who abducted 295 pupils and staff and force-marched them into the Zambezi valley and north toward Mozambique. Luckily they were intercepted and all but eight of the abductees were recovered. This was a forerunner of things to come, after this incident there were many abductions with thousands of schoolchildren taken across

the borders for terrorist training. Because of the involvement of the Kore Kore, it was rapidly apparent that little could be done without an adequate means of controlling the population. Accordingly, the Protected Villages Programme was instituted to divorce the tribesmen from the terrorist, thus protecting him and denying the terrorist a source of food, intelligence and recruits. In mid-1974, the first Protected Village Programme was instituted in the Chiweshe TTL where 50,000 people were moved in a three-week operation into 21 protected villages. Immediately thereafter the security forces moved into the Madziwa TTL and conducted the same exercise. This effectively drove the terrorists, who were well established in those TTLs, north, and the security forces started to gain the upper hand … In the longer term however, this proved a counter-productive tactic. Wood writes: … These villages were never adequately policed or protected and the people were not involved in their management and were not persuaded of their necessity. The chronic shortage of finance precluded the proper development of these villages. They were often constructed too far from the villagers’ fields and, most important of all, took the people away from the burial sites of their ancestors, which they venerated … So inadequate was the administration of the PVs that ZANLA often used them as places of safe haven … The PV system was dismantled in 1978.

The Selous Scouts are formed With ongoing military re-assessment the idea of forming a ‘pseudo’ unit was conceived—in essence, to compensate for the fact that intelligence was not forthcoming from the rural population as had previously been the case. The Selous Scouts, formed in November 1973, were born out of the military need to, through unconventional means, find out where the enemy was, what he was doing and wha t he was planning. Charles D. Melson writes: … Its first commander was Major Ron ReidDaly, recalled by the Army from retirement for this assignment. Police Superintendent ‘Mac’ McGuiness was his Special Branch counterpart in the venture. The Selous Scouts’ charter directed ‘the clandestine elimination of terrorists/terrorism both within and without the country’. Reid-Daly trained, equipped and deployed forces in co-ordination with the Army and Joint Operations Centre (JOC) commanders. McGuiness ‘turned’ captured

insurgents [persuded them to switch sides], provided direction to employment, and disseminated the intelligence collected … In reality the concept proved to be devastatingly effective against the enemy, playing him at his own game so successfully that he was, as a result, hard-pressed and confused to know whom he could trust. Regular African soldiers of the Selous Scouts, along with ‘turned’ insurgents, would establish themselves in a captured terrorits’ former area of operation masquerading as terrorists. Here they would gain the confidence of the local population and of the local insurgents—to the extent of then being able to direct conventional troops on to the enemy camp or gathering place. With the advent of the Selous Scouts and their unconventional methods the security forces now had the intelligence they so sorely needed pouring in. Pinpointed by the Selous Scouts, the enemy could now be brought to battle and eliminated. But what was the most effective way of accomplishing this? The Selous Scouts had to a great extent solved the primary problem, i.e. locating the enemy. In ‘The Killing Machine’ Charles D. Melson, drawing from and quoting a variety of sources, writes: … One senior ground officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Brian G. Robinson, summarized the status quo: ‘There were mainly three routine methods of making contact: first and most successful—intelligence produced by the Selous Scouts by captures or locals; second—observation post locations (OPs) manned by Selous Scouts or conventional troops; third—location of tracks and follow-up ops by tracker-combat teams, this being the most common type of operation.’ … Bruce McGregor adds an interesting anecdote: … In mid-1973, I was one of the first RLI troopers to be exposed to a Selous Scouts operative group. Alan Lindner (a lieutenant at the time) ordered me and two other dudes into a truck in the middle of the night and we took off into the Madziwa bush. Before turning off the road, Lindner told us that at no time were we to tell anybody what we might see that night and at no time were we to have our weapons co*cked. I think that maybe if we had co*cked our rifles, they (the Scouts) would have heard and would either have shot us or fled. Anyway, Lindner fired a pencil flare which was answered by another from the bush to our front. With another caution from Lindner to hold our fire, these ‘terrs’ came out of the darkness. You must know that at that point the temptation to co*ck and fire was almost overpowering. They were, of course, Selous Scouts coming in from an op. They walked passed me, one of them actually whispered a greeting, and then clambered onto the back of the truck where

they were covered by a tarpaulin. I then transported them to a building at the BSAP station at Darwin. I am sure they understood that there were many times that they could have so easily been knocked off. Having said this, I very soberly understood that if I had co*cked my rifle I might have been the first to die … The nervousness of the Scouts was understandable. They lived in a twilight zone, fraught with treachery and double-dealing. At any given moment, they could be compromised—they had to be aware of the insurgents’ complex systems of identification, many of which were changed daily. One slightly wrong signal of greeting could mean instant death. Not to mention the ever-present threat from ‘within’—the ‘turned insurgents’ who might ‘go bad’ and ‘re-turn’. Although not too common, there were nevertheless the horror stories of ‘turned terrs’ who’d gone along with the charade of changing loyalties, before shooting their new allies while they slept. And at any time, careless or ignorant security forces might mistake them for genuine insurgents and attack them—hence the reason why large tracts of countryside were declared ‘frozen areas’, in which only Selous Scouts were permitted to operate. Caution and secrecy were the Scouts’ watchwords, not without reason and why they earned a fearsome for themselves reputation—hated by the insurgents and feared by the locals.

MT report from ‘Landmine Mac’ Bruce McGregor brings his perspective from the battalion’s ‘engine room’, Motor Transport (MT): … I was one of the guys recruited from the SADF and transferred to the RLI. I was encouraged to join the RLI by a regimental policeman in the SADF because I had collected a number of charges against me. Some of these included leaving my rifle in the canteen, having a dirty rifle, being AWOL (this was unfortunate because I was caught on my way back in from a night on the town while being under open arrest) and assaulting an officer (a long story). I wound up under close arrest in the guard room. A few days later a regimental policeman (RP) came to me and advised me that if I wanted to avoid punishment I would be wise to consider attending a presentation from the Rhodesian Army representatives who were on a recruiting drive. I agreed and he marched me over to the hall, with me having

spun the sergeant a yarn about attending the recruiting lecture by Captain Dace of the RLI. I saw a welcome gap and took it. I volunteered and Captain Dace signed me up. The SADF MPs were furious as I’d wriggled out of orders and they tried to re-arrest me, with much violence. I broke ranks, the MPS at my heels, and sprinted up to the commandant who intervened and told them in Afrikaans that because I’d signed up with the RLI “all my sins were forgiven”. He winked at Captain Dace. Within days I was ensconced in my new billets at Cranborne Barracks, and Rhodesia became my home. In the RLI, I was referred to as ‘Landmine Mac’. I was an MT rep (Motor Transport— also referred to as Mechanized Transport, Military Transport etc.) with 2 and Support Commandos a couple of times but mainly with 3 Commando from mid-1975 through to 1976. Why was I called Landmine Mac? Well it was not because I had a habit of hitting them—more like missing them. I seemed to have had the fortune of always being picked as lead vehicle in operational area convoys between 1973 and 1975. Over this period I had as many as nine near-misses in these convoys. By near-misses, I mean that I, as the lead vehicle would miss the mine and a vehicle behind me in the same convoy would hit it. Troops would want to be on my vehicle, lead or otherwise because I seemed to have ‘the luck’. In May 1974, the truck I was in (07DH70) did hit a landmine. I was standing in the turret and climbing down to get a cigarette from the driver, ‘Harold’ Wilson—not a good idea. I did not even hear the bang but I am told I landed about 30 feet from the truck. I need to stress the fact that I was not driving. If I had been driving we would have missed it. A bit conceited perhaps but I believe that. What saved me was the fact that we had put water in the tyres (to force water on the explosive upon rupture), conveyer belting on the mudguards and sandbags on the floorboards. Even so, I received shrapnel wounds. (Now, every day I wake up is pure profit.) I was also one of the first in the RLI to drive the new anti-landmine vehicles that were being developed. I make this claim because one was being tested in the Hurricane area and had to be driven back to Salisbury. Nobody knew how to drive it, so they gave me 30 minutes’ awareness training and sent me on my way. I remember the weird looks I got from the public going through Salisbury in that big ugly thing—yet these vehicles really turned out to be a blessing.

On one occasion, Grant Engel (ex-MT rep Support Commando) and I were in Mount Darwin trying to get back to Salisbury in time for a slap-up weekend. We were given a truck with stuff to take back to Cranborne Barracks. We left Mount Darwin late in the afternoon. The truck that we were driving was a Bedford M. It had a recommended top speed of 50 miles per hour (80kph). Grant and I decided that to make Salisbury in time we needed to test the vehicle’s capacity for speed. Where better to test this than on the Shashi Pass, just north of Bindura, which had a tarmac surface. We launched the truck down the pass and we were very impressed to see that we were approaching 75mph. Willing more from the already screaming engine we did not heed the systematic vibration going through the vehicle—a sort of a WWRUNG! WWRUNG! I remember that we were close on the magical 80mph when the vibration became continuous and louder. Then suddenly a loud BANG! and then CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! as the truck, engine still screaming, lost power. When the truck came to a halt we found the drive shafts had separated from the transfer case. No Salisbury that night. We radioed for a tow truck to take us back to Bindura where we spent the night. We arrived in Salisbury on Saturday afternoon, our weekend half gone. Monday morning saw Grant and me on the carpet in front of Colour Sergeant Steve Thompson. Even though I always got on well with him, he was angry that day because we had just scrapped one of his trucks. He accused us of speeding which we obviously denied. After the interrogation he settled for a plausible excuse that we were travelling on a tarmac surface with four-wheel drive engaged. Because of the bush work the trucks were exposed to it was always a possibility that the drive shafts would become unbalanced and fourwheel drive would exacerbate the problem. The order went out—a notice in all the trucks not to engage four-wheel drive on good surface roads. A symptom specific to drivers! I had heard the term many times. I suppose I was intrigued by its mention and heard some interesting comments. Things like “Your pants are stained, china—you’ve got convoy co*ck”. What was it? What caused it? How did it feel? Just Cochrane, my brother in arms, referred to it as ‘Good vibrations’. It was not until I was seconded to 1 Independent Company to assist them with re-supply as one of their trucks had broken its suspension that I fully understood. While I was on loan to them—the RLI did not just lend vehicles out at the time; the driver went with the truck (sort of a package deal) so we could get the vehicle back—I would be required to transport their supplies to Mukumbura and return the next day. I remember the

recent rains had caused the roads to become badly corrugated and the going was very slow and uncomfortable, even for a driver. The escorts on the back complained bitterly, but at least they could move around. I could not. The steering wheel, clutch, brakes and accelerator were not going to move to a more comfortable position for me—at least not without assistance from a landmine—so I was stuck where I was. To make things worse my pants would creep into the crack of my buttocks, creating more discomfort. While driving through the Mvuradona Pass I noticed that I had an erection, but women were the farthest thing from my mind while trying to negotiate what was left of the road after the rains. The erection continued for some time and eventually I felt a low-threshold pain developing in my testicl*s. I also felt my bladder was sort of full but not to the point that I really had to relieve myself. Once we got through the pass and down into the valley we stopped to wait for all the other trucks to catch up. Not wishing anyone to notice my condition I stayed in my truck but soon felt that if I did not stretch I would go nuts. Besides, if I did not have a piss then I might just have to pee inside the truck. Checking the personnel around me to see their attentions were elsewhere, I quickly disappeared behind a tree and relieved myself with my penis at full attention. It felt like it would never end but something was happening. As I relieved myself the erection subsided. The pain in my testicl*s was still there but no longer that noticeable. The convoy continued and by the time we reached Mukumbura, the pain in my testicl*s was gone. But this was by no means my last attack of the dreaded ‘convoy co*ck’. The big problem that faced all Rhodesian units as the war intensified was manpower. In this context it was one thing to permanently man a spares store at Cranborne but an entirely different matter to man a spares store in forward posts like the JOCs. Mount Darwin was one such facility, but the spares store never had a single permanent person to manage the spares and the fuel, so the paperwork was always in disarray and the availability of spares would suffer as a result. While stationed at Mount Darwin, everyone in our group had a turn at taking delivery of and issuing fuel to units as they moved through the operational area. We had a ‘work around’ to compensate for fuel evaporation, which was to always record the number of litres taken, but to round it off upward to the nearest litre. The total of litres issued minus the tank’s capacity was a fairly good ‘guesstimate’ of tracking orders for resupply.

On the spares side I was given the task of doing a stock check, working out the difference and returning the administration to a state of health—a selfdefeating objective because I, like all the others, had to go out into the bush and assist the other ground troops. Therefore the exercise would ultimately fail, unless someone permanent was brought in to manage the situation. Anyway, receiving my orders I set to the task with gusto. It was not long before I arrived at the answer. If we were audited now, we would be in the sh*t. What to do? Dick Warton and I devised a plan to sign out the missing inventory to vehicles that we knew had been blown up by landmines on the premise that they would have had to be assigned to some army vehicle anyway (in haste) and the paperwork was just never done. The poor bastards at KGVI would never get around to checking or cross-referencing this. So I set about ‘catching up’ the administration. It was not long before I had the spares store running like a well-tuned engine and it was not long before Steve Thompson began getting irritating messages from me about how slow the supply chain was. Eventually the supplies became more regular and we were doing a lot better than before. Then the unexpected. The fuel bowser arrived one morning to replenish our tanks. It had just started pumping when a huge fountain of petrol shot out of the tank’s spout. ‘Boet’ Botha was having a smoke a short way from the tanker, he just turned and fled toward the brick buildings. Later I asked him what he did with his cigarette and he replied that he got such a fright that he thought he’d swallowed it. It turned out that when we had been issuing fuel and rounding the values up, some of the guys had been over-zealous in their application of the concept. This resulted in us calculating that we should order fuel for tanks that were still half-full. I believe that this situation also happened back at Cranborne once and everybody was invited to come and fill up their personal vehicles. Well, this is what we did; we advised the officers—some of them had brought their own vehicles to Mount Darwin—that they could come and fill up. This situation prompted a casual enquiry from Major Rich. He owned a Land Rover that was seriously unroadworthy because the shock absorbers were totally unserviceable. I agreed to help him and promptly wrote off four shock absorbers to a Land Rover that had been blown up the month before. This was not the only time that spares were struck off the inventory to help officers. It also happened to assist Dick Warton with a project—to resurrect

an old V8 that had been found abandoned in the veld. When I first met Dick Warton, I immediately felt “Now here is a good bloke”. He had no attitude or pretensions and even though he was my superior officer, he never abused that status. This vehicle that we resurrected was called ‘The Wart’ after Dick. It was the ugliest bloody thing on four wheels. When one looked at it from the front all one could see was a huge radiator (taken from a Bedford truck). As I’d predicted it was not long before I was assigned to 2 Commando as MT rep for a month (while the existing MT rep went on leave) and the spares store was left to its fate once more. Standing orders prohibited the entertainment of women within the commando lines. Hah! I remember one tale where there was a woman, with a dog, in the corporal’s room just before the OC’s inspection. She threatened to let the dog loose on him if he left her to attend the inspection. There was another tale where a woman was boosted through the trap door in the ceiling to hide her from the officers during inspection. Apparently she stayed there for a week with food from the mess being brought to her daily. Maybe it was the same woman but where would they have put her dog? How about the woman who came into Training Troop and went through the entire barracks? It was common knowledge that one particular woman would arrive at night and sleep with the base orderly sergeant. There was also the trooper who had a girl in the barrack lines and they overslept. He could not get her out through the main gates because the sun was already up. The only thing he could do was to throw a blanket over the fence at the back of the Base Group car park and lift her over into the veld beyond. He was at the fence and about to give her the lift up when all his friends lent out the Base Group windows and shouted “Ahhaaa!” and in a panic the lift became a shunt and she was propelled over the fence quicker than an RPG. Certainly these clandestine ops didn’t go unnoticed. I remember one morning the entire group was mustered to parade before the Company Sergeant-Major ‘Rockjaw’ Kirrane who proceeded to explain both the medical and future financial consequences of bringing women into the lines. Back at 2 Commando a Trooper Price was under open arrest. Trooper Price and I had become friends when I picked him up after he had reported to the guard room for the evening and took him back to his lines. The commando was out in the bush at the time and there was nobody around but him. He invited me to the barrack room, promising to show me something really wild … and there in his bed was a girl well known to the battalion. No name, no

pack drill—she was known by some of the men as ‘Psst!’ He then asked me a favour. Could I sneak her out of the barracks and take her home to Avondale? How the hell would I do that? I was not allowed out of the battalion with an army vehicle unless I had been assigned a task, but I told him that I would see what I could do. I established that on my roster of duties there was an officer who had to get to KGVI Barracks early the next morning and I would have to take him. Perfect! Morning came and I took tea down to the guards in the magazine and then, on the pretext of taking the tea urn back to the kitchen, I raced back to pick up the girl. I pulled into the 2 Commando lines and hooted quickly three times, a pre-arranged signal. Price brought her out and we stuck her under a tarpaulin in the back of the Land Rover. I then drove to the officers’ mess to pick up the officer. When I got there and presented myself as his driver, he informed me that I was no longer required because he had a lift with someone else. What to do! Here I was stuck with a girl in the back of my vehicle with no official reason to leave the battalion. To compound matters, I was due to knock off in an hour and would have to return the vehicle to the pool. She was not my problem, I figured, so I drove back to 2 Commando with every intention of giving her back … only to find that the lines were now well represented with men and NCOs who’d returned from the bush. Returning her to Trooper Price was not an option. What a pickle! I remember thinking, “I did not get any sex last night but I’m still fu**ed!” I decided to take the bull by the horns and ‘beg’ my way out of the gates, preferably the back gates, which were less busy than the main gates. Fortunately I was on reasonable terms with the RP on duty. I pulled up and greeted him: “Howzit china! I have ‘Psst!’ in the back of my vehicle and I have to dump her in Burg. Please help me.” He thought I was bullsh*tting of course and demanded to see the evidence. I lifted the tarpaulin and the RP saw for himself. I remember him saying to her “sh*t! You’re an ugly bitch first thing in the morning,” and then without another word he turned and lifted the boom. Back to landmines. For a while until mid-1975, the South African Police (SAP) occupied the base at Rushinga. (In fact I think they built it.) The SAP had the best rations and it was always great to spend a night there because the food was great. I remember it was from this base that four unarmed members of the SAP were murdered by terrs on Christmas Day 1974 under the so-called ceasefire agreement. (I think that all RLI troopies knew enough about the terrs to understand that the ceasefire was a farce.)

One thing that the SAP in Rushinga were very good at was finding landmines. If there was a landmine in the road, the SAP would have the misfortune of hitting it. They would send out a clearing patrol and sure enough another vehicle for the scrapheap. It was another early day for an SAP clearance patrol when their vehicle hit a mine. The driver was not badly injured, apart from a really sore back, he was able to walk over to another vehicle. He was being driven back to Rushinga for examination when that truck too detonated a landmine. This time he was hurt. Now it was back to Mount Darwin by helicopter. Late that afternoon it was decided to send him back to ‘Bright Lights’ (Salisbury). There was an aircraft leaving that evening and the medics managed to get this unfortunate chap onto the transport before its departure. At about 2000 hours we heard the plane gun its engines and then three loud bangs. It sounded like the aircraft had just been ambushed by terrs. Within minutes we were all aboard a truck racing for the airstrip. First we passed three dead mombes (cattle), the bodies surgically carved by the plane’s propeller blades and then our lights picked up the aircraft with its tail in the air and nose firmly on the ground. Inside the poor SAP fellow who had just added another notch to his bow of life—two landmines and an aircraft accident in one day. He was complaining bitterly. My final contribution revolves around … landmines, nasty little things that played such a pivotal role in my life for such a long time. I still bare the scars of my injuries to this day. Some victims were not injured at all and once their ears had stopped ringing they were physically okay again. Reactions for victims also differed. Henry ‘Boet’ Botha took a mine-assisted flight and used his hands as landing gear. He said: “I was sitting on the back and then I saw sky, ground, sky, trees, sky, ground, trees, sky and then ground. Talk about a f*cken snotty, ek sê.” Mark Waring on the other hand had the war all worked out and felt that reading a Chunky comic was the best way to deal with the immediate trauma at the time. In his incident the back wheel took the blast of the cake tin (landmine) and the truck slewed to a halt and while all the troops skirmished into the bush in case the mine was accompanied by an ambush, Mark climbed off the truck, sat on the side of the road and carried on reading his comic. So many times the RLI wrecker truck would be summoned to recover the wrecks of mined vehicles and you knew just by looking at the wreckage that some unfortunate soldier had lost his life. Most certainly I do believe that a

driver is the worst affected by landmines. Of course, discussions on how to identify a landmine while on the move were endless. This of course was only talk. Theory is always good but in reality, unless it had been raining and the sand covering the mine had washed away, you could take it for granted that the terrs would apply the best camouflage possible to their craft. One of these theories was the ‘Cow sh*t landmine theory’. I first came across this in Mukumbura while camping over at an engineers’ squadron. It was scribbled on a board inside their canteen: Soft flat fresh cow-pat = NO Landmine Hard flat cow-pat with upturned edges = LANDMINE Formula for theory = Cows don’t sh*t twice in two feet The RMS (Railway Motorized Service) comprised huge cargo transport trucks that went where the trains could not. They were well utilized in the TTLs to transport farmers’ produce such as cattle and cotton, to market. As the war escalated these trucks were required to report to the DC (District Commissioner) and the local JOC so they could submit details of their route and pick up an escort. In most cases they would be slotted into a convoy with other vehicles travelling the same route. Landmines had become such a common danger that the locals would wait for a military convoy to go down the roads first, to clear the roads as it were, and if there was a landmine they trusted that the security forces would hit it first. Of course it did not work out that way every time and many civilian vehicles were destroyed and the occupants killed. RMS drivers were a breed of their own—hard drivers, hard drinkers, hard swearers. On one occasion I was leading the convoy to Rusambo—my usual position according to my ‘Landmine Mac’ reputation. In the convoy we had some Blue Jobs (Air Force) ground support personnel who were transporting chopper fuel to Rusambo, as well as sundry military vehicles that had been in Mount Darwin for re-supply. We had decided to take the lower road to Rusambo instead of going via Rushinga. We were about five kilometres from the Rusambo–Rushinga crossroad when we came to a dip with a concrete drift at the bottom. I negotiated the drift and went up the other side and over the rise. The escorts on the back suddenly yelled to me that the RMS truck behind me had just hit a mine. I thought, “Thank Christ! I missed again.” I stopped the truck and we all baled out into the bush and skirmished back to

the RMS truck, keeping away from the roadside. We ran about three hundred yards to the truck to find it was the driver’s side that had taken the full force of the mine. It was a wonder that he was not dead. The driver himself was pouring the last dregs of a bottle of brandy down his throat. He was very angry that I had not hit the mine and was yelling abuse at me. I told him to wind his neck in as I was not psychic. This did not improve his temper and he then lay down on the ground complaining that his back hurt, and complaining bitterly about the blast had sent his case of brandy down through the floor boards. He was eventually casevaced back to Mount Darwin. We still had a convoy to get through. After the engineers gave us the all-clear, we moved the other trucks into the veld around the wrecked RMS truck and continued to Rusambo.

ZANU war communiqué Here is a typical ZANU war communiqué, a fanciful mix of fact, fiction and clear lies and, as always, liberally sprinkled with communist verbiage. Lieutenant Rick Passaportis’ scrawl appears at the bottom of the original document: ‘Captured by 4 Troop, 1 Commando during operations in the Ruari School area. Contacts took place over 17–18 May ’74 in which 18 terrorists were killed and five captured.’ The Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU) Chimurenga war communiqué No. 8 27 March, 1974. Period from 30 Jan to 20 March 1974 The revolutionary drive to eliminate settler oppression, imperialism and capitalism, the achievement of independence and freedom in Zimbabwe is gaining ground. The balance of power is shifting in favour of revolutionary forces. Each day the forces of liberation and progress are gaining strength and experience while the forces of fascism meet setback after setback and resort to naked mass murder, terror, destruction of villages, crops, property and animals of innocent people. Our strategy is to fight a protracted people’s war which involves the slow wearing down of the fighting spirit of the enemy by continually harassing his supporters until their morale and confidence plunge down. We are not interested in isolated raids and roving rebel bands which are designed to

impress the international community and indeed mislead our people into thinking that victory is around the corner. The enemy’s dirty tricks of building up a puppet African militia [black Internal Affairs personnel] in the war zones will not work. Nor will the suppression of enemy casualty statistics (except for the names of leading Rhodesian families and members of the Rhodesian Front). The truth always comes out. As for the puppet Militia Force our revolutionary forces will have no option but to sweep it away along with the enemy troops. During the period between 30th January and 20th March 1974 ZANLA (Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army), the military wing of ZANU, dealt heavy blows on the enemy forces. ZANLA forces made eight successful operations killing 55 enemy forces and wounding well over 100 enemy soldiers and supporters as follows: 1st February to 11th February: A unit of ZANLA forces carried out a dawn raid on a camp of enemy troops that had been dropped by helicopter the previous day in the Dande area (Mount Darwin) where a number of villagers have been thrown into concentration camps. In the attack seven enemy soldiers were killed. 13th February: A locally based patrol of ZANLA forces launched a number of ambushes and sabotage activities along the Mukumbura–Salisbury highway in the Madziwa Tribal Trust Land near Bindura. In the course of these activities ten enemy soldiers were killed, several others immobilized and two enemy trucks destroyed. In reprisals to this intimidation of ZANLA activities in the area the fascist troops rounded up over 200 villagers in the Madziwa for allegedly supporting ZANLA forces established in the area. The enemy strafed Musiwa village, destroyed crops and confiscated cattle and goats. 14th February: In heavy battle in the Centenary area with the enemy using ground and air forces, ZANLA forces killed 15 enemy troops including Trooper Nigel Willis, a great-nephew of Sir Roy Welensky, and a member of the so-called Rhodesian Special Air Services unit. 16th February:

Centenary-based ZANLA forces carried out a successful ambush along the Everton Road near the Mukezi River about 20 miles north of Centenary by attacking two farms being used as enemy posts. A white reservist Mr. Eric Fletcher and his wife were killed in ambush. The car in which they were travelling was completely wrecked and the two FN rifles which they were carrying were captured. [Author’s note: This much is true. The Fletchers’ son Gavin was out the country at school in South Africa at the time. He signed on in 3 Commando in 1976 on a three-year contract.] 18th February: The following day another ZANLA unit, co-ordinated to the area that ambushed Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, ambushed a section of enemy infantry that had been called to the Centenary area for rescue operations. In the engagement that ensued only six kilometres from where Smith was addressing a Boer election gathering five enemy troopers were killed including police reservist, Mr. Paul Rouse a commander of the section of the enemy troops at a command post in the Centenary area. 20th February: ZANLA forces in the Sipolilo District carried out a successful rocket and mortar attack on the enemy camp east of the Hunyani River. Six enemy troops were killed and two others severely wounded. South African troops, Lieutenant-Colonel E. S. Schlenter of Port Elizabeth, Sergeant J. J. Bezuidenhout of Johannesburg and Constable L. D. Barnard of Durban were among those who were killed. In a separate incident on the same day, an enemy Land Rover carrying enemy puppet troops detonated a ZANLA-laid landmine in the Chiweshe Tribal Trust Land linking two command posts— Musengezi and Centenary. In the course of the blast three puppet troops were killed and four seriously wounded. 1st March: A Mtoko-based ZANLA unit made a successful ambush on enemy troops in the Mary Mount area. A South African constable Mr. W. J. Caulitz and three Rhodesian troopers were killed. 15th March:

ZANLA forces in the Mount Darwin area engaged a section of enemy puppet troops in a short battle in the Chesa African Purchase Area. The enemy suffered heavy losses—three killed and several wounded in the battle. Issued by: The Zimbabwe African National Union Publicity and Information Centre Box 2331, Lusaka, Zambia

‘I am a lieutenant in the RLI …’ The following two court statements make for interesting reading, not so much for the events that took place (although the contacts are of interest), but for the fact that an experienced Rhodesian Army officer was required, by law, to immerse himself in legal bureaucracy. The fact of the matter is that, even as late as 1974, Rhodesian civil authorities, with heads buried in the sand, still believed the insurgency was a matter that the police and the courts could deal with. Centenary C. R. 1/3/74: Richard John Alexander Passaportis states: I am a lieutenant in the Rhodesian Army attached to 1 Commando, 1st Battalion of the Rhodesian Light Infantry based in Salisbury. On Tuesday, 26th February 1974 I was on operational duties and stationed at Rumange Farm, Centenary. At 0900 hours on this date I received a radio instruction to stand by to give immediate support to a follow-up then in progress between a detachment of the RAR and a gang of terrorists (hereinafter referred to as terrs). Some 15 minutes later I was uplifted by helicopter, commanded by Lieutenant Anderson, to Stacey’s Farm where we arrived at about 1015 hours. I had with me a section of three men and radio communications. Here I was briefed on the strategy regarding the follow-up. I was then instructed to proceed by helicopter with my men to a grid reference south of Mutungagore Hill where I was to establish a stop line. In the helicopter I was in radio ‘intercom’ contact with the pilot and I overheard instructions being relayed to the pilot of a Provost aircraft to conduct ‘recces’ in the general area where I was to establish my stop line.

Some five minutes later I saw the Provost and I overheard his report that he had spotted a group of some ten Africans dressed in civilian clothing climbing through the fence into a tobacco field. The Provost pilot then stated that he was going down to a lower altitude to have a closer look at this group as he could see no weapons at this time. Still airborne in the helicopter I could not see the group of suspected terrs. However, I saw the Provost going down and then recognized green and red tracer bullets arching up towards it. I heard the Provost pilot report that his aircraft had received bullet hits. I pinpointed the source of the fire directed at the Provost and counted eight Africans in the tobacco field. I saw these Africans, now established to be terrs, running in single file between two rows of small tobacco plants. Lieutenant Anderson then orbited the tobacco field at which stage we also came under automatic fire. I noticed one terr lying on his back aiming an RDP machine gun in our direction and assumed that he was firing at the helicopter, although at this stage we received no hits. I then instructed the helicopter pilot to land and indicated a small ridge about 50 yards southwest of the terr position. I later ascertained that this action was taking place on Panorama Farm. The ridge obscured the helicopter from the terr position and at this stage no further fire was being directed at us. I noticed the Provost pilot now making strafing runs on the terr. I put my men into extended line and we moved forward. We were in mopani scrub which afforded a fair amount of cover and managed to get right up to the fence bordering the tobacco field. I climbed through the fence and having taken up a firing position ordered my men to follow. As they were doing so we came under heavy automatic and semi-automatic fire from the terrs. The helicopter, which had now taken off again, then opened fire on the terr position from directly above me at an altitude of about 100 feet. I heard the helicopter pilot report that he too was receiving hits to his aircraft and I actually heard two metallic strikes on the aircraft from my location. The helicopter then left and took no further part in the action that followed. We were now coming under very heavy fire and I was pinned down, taking cover behind a furrow. My radio was now only receiving and could not transmit. The Provost pilot then afforded me covering fire by diving on the terr position and firing with his front guns. With this cover I assaulted their position in extended line. I had been pinned down by this time for about four to five minutes. As the Provost ended this strafing run the terrs then began to

reappear from the cover they had taken and attempted to redirect fire at us. We engaged opportunity targets as they presented themselves and swept through the terr position, noting a number of dead bodies in the process. I then noticed the Provost pilot conduct another strafing run on a location some 150 yards northeast of my position in the main contact area and I assumed that the terrs had fragmented and that the Provost was directing fire at the remnants of the group. I heard the Provost pilot report over the radio that he was engaging two running terrs and during the subsequent sweep of this position located a wounded terr lying under a tree. He eventually died of his wounds. I conducted a sweep of the main contact area with my corporal, leaving the two other men to guard the wounded man. As I was returning to the main contact area I saw two terrs hobbling off in a southerly direction. Both were dressed in civilian clothing and I noticed the one, who was only slightly wounded, undoing the chest webbing which he was carrying. I called on them to stop which they did. I took possession of the webbing and found that it contained a quantity (I did not count them) of 7.62 intermediate ammunition and one Chinese stick grenade. The other terr had a leg wound. Neither was carrying weapons at this time and in response to my question they both indicated their weapons lying on the ground among the dead bodies in the main contact area. I now see the two terrorists referred to above as the two accused in this case. I then examined the main contact area and counted six dead terrorists. I located the following weapons and equipment: 4 AK-47 rifles, 5 SKS rifles and large quantity 7.62mm ammunition, together with the 7.62mm ammunition and a grenade which I took possession of from the accused. A short time later D/P/O. Bacon, the CID representative arrived at the scene and I handed the above weapons over to him. Signed: R. J. A. Passaportis D/Inspector K Samler RLI 27/11/74

Richard John Alexander Passaportis states: I am a lieutenant in the RLI, 1 Commando. Normally based at Salisbury, but at present engaged in ‘operational duties’, in the northeastern border area of Rhodesia. I know the accused Lameck Wandiawona and Felix Takavarasha, only in connection with this case. On 28 April 1974, at first light and at approximately 0545 hours, acting on instructions received, myself and members of my troop were uplifted by helicopter from Mount Darwin and dropped at an area in the Kandeya Tribal Trust Lands at the map reference US453752. The reason being that a group of terrorists were believed to be residing in a tin hut at this location. I carried out an assault on this hut but found it to be empty. At this time helicopters and a Provost aircraft were overhead giving my troop ‘top cover’. I observed one helicopter circling approximately 700 yards to my northeast and then heard a burst of automatic fire from the ground, directed at the helicopter. With my troop I ran about 600 yards towards the point from where I had heard the automatic fire coming. At this time both helicopters and the Provost were conducting ‘ground strikes’ onto the area from where they were being attacked. I formed my troop into extended line and commenced a frontal sweep through short mopani shrub. When I reached a position, approximately 50 yards into this scrub, I was engaged by a burst of automatic fire. Having been in contact with terrorists on numerous occasions I knew this to be from a communist AK rifle. I then deployed one section into ‘fire position’ and instructed them to fire into the bushes from where the shots had come. I then carried out an assault on this location with the remainder of my section. On reaching a clump of bushes where the fire had come from, I observed a wounded terrorist lying on the ground. This person attempted to bring his weapon round to shoot at me and I had no alternative but to shoot and kill him, which I did. I then received a report over the radio from a helicopter to the effect that further terrorists had been seen running from where we were towards the Karuyana River. I called in the Provost to carry out an air strike on this group prior to my moving in on their position. This the pilot did. I observed the Provost firing into a ridge in a field. I ordered my machine gunners to also fire at the same positions; which they did. We then swept through the area. In this ridge I found a wounded terrorist. I now know this person to be Lameck Wandiawona. He was lying on his stomach. I instructed him to be

turned over and observed that he was holding a folding-butt AK rifle (no. 601743). I took possession of this weapon. I also observed that he was wearing civilian clothes but that over these he wore a terrorist-type ammunition pouch, which contained two fully loaded AK rifle magazines, one clip of ammunition and several loose rounds. He was also wearing a blue anorak. I now produce that ammunition pouch and the magazines before the court. Following this I instructed two of my men to remain with the accused while I carried on with my sweep down to the Karuyana River. A helicopter directed me to an area where we had fired on a terrorist who was wearing blue clothing. I swept this area for about five minutes. My left-hand section located a wounded terrorist in some thickly wooded rocks. There I saw a wounded terrorist, who I now know to be Felix Takavarsha. His weapon was lying beside him. It was an AK rifle (no. 14162347). I also observed that he was wearing civilian clothes, a brown hat, but what brought my attention to him was that he was wearing a police reserve jacket. I also observed that he was also wearing a communist-type ammunition pouch which contained rounds of ammunition. I took possession of this property and now produce it before the court. I requested that the helicopter land and uplift the two accused and the deceased. The two accused required urgent medical attention. I later handed the two AK rifles, the property of the accused, and the deceased’s AK rifle to Superintendent K. MacDonald of the BSA Police. During this confrontation with the group of terrorists I cannot say how many rounds of ammunition were fired by the terrorists. I can say, however, that numerous bursts of automatic fire were directed at my troop, the helicopters and the Provost. In fact one such burst passed between me and my troop corporal missing him by inches. Signed: R. J. A. Passaportis Mount Darwin, 31st July, 1974

‘Scene’ at Madziwa Beryl Salt records: … Earlier in the year, on 17 April 1974, a government animal health inspector, Hugh Gundry, was working in a village about eleven

kilometres northwest of Rusambo Mission, near the Mozambican border, inoculating the villagers’ dogs against rabies. A terrorist forced his way through the waiting crowd, shot the vet and disappeared into the bush. Soon afterward, a landmine exploded under a bus transporting locals, injuring eleven people, six of them seriously. Follow-up operations were immediately launched but with no result until the middle of August, when information was received that infiltrators had been spotted in the Madziwa Tribal Trust Land. Early on Wednesday morning of 14 August, a report was made to the JOC. Within 20 minutes, the Fireforce was on its way. The Rhodesia Herald, as reported on 16 August 1974, picks up the story: … A flight lieutenant piloting one of the helicopters described how he circled over the area in which the terrs were sighted, but they had apparently gone to ground. “I decided then to drop the RLI chaps and as we came in, terrorists hidden in the surrounding rugged country opened up on us,” said the flight lieutenant. “The way those RLI chaps took off after those terrs without worrying about their own safety would do any army in the world proud,” he said. With the troops in hot pursuit of the terrs, who had scattered in the face of fierce retaliatory fire, the flight lieutenant and the pilots of the other helicopters turned to informing the troops where the pockets of the enemy were hidden. “A lot of the success must be due to the excellent co-operation between the pilots and the men on the ground,” said the flight lieutenant. A lieutenant who was controlling the battle on the ground described how effectively the black and white troops worked together during the ensuing one and a half hours. “The action moved back and forward over the area of one kilometre square,” the lieutenant said. “During this period the men were mingling together and helping support one another in every conceivable way. It was a classic example of co-operation between the fighting forces on the ground and those in the air.” The battle continued to rage, with the terrs, after engaging in a stand-up fight at first, becoming intent on escape. The attempts of some were thwarted however, with the arrival of fixed-wing aircraft called in to bomb and strafe the enemy positions. In the confusion of battle, it was impossible to gauge the success of the ‘hit’. But when the dust had settled, eight terrs were dead. The one security force death was that of Major Ernest C. Adams who had been hit by rifle fire. The terrorists were armed with RPG rocket launchers, RPD machine guns and AK-47 automatic rifles …

Beryl Salt continues: … There were many factors that could influence the effectiveness of a Fireforce operation. One major problem was the noise of the Alouette’s jet engine, which in quiet bush surroundings, with the wind blowing in the right direction could be heard many kilometres away, allowing plenty of time for insurgents to melt into the bush. It was therefore vital, that the helicopters approached from downwind and the ground forces had to take this fact into consideration when talking aircraft onto targets …

Ambush Written by Charles Bezuidenhout (3 Commando 1975/76) As the sun melts into the horizon A deep red glow turns to darkness Sounds of the day give way to those of the night Crickets break the eerie silence Beads of sweat on their upper lips Frightened troopers prepare for fight No one speaks They glance at each other in anticipation Rifles! Prepared for action Ammunition! Counted and re-loaded Grenades and claymores! Para-illuminating bombs! Each carries the destruction of life A signal is given Troopers prepare to move out Stumbling in the dark With the ambush area in sight Arcs of fire are indicated The killing ground covered As they lie and wait, watching for movement Loved ones linger in their thoughts A need to be safe at home A need to stop this senseless war

A gentle breeze rustles through the grass Night jar’s calling for a mate A smell of a bush fire and a jackal’s eerie bark Suddenly! Movement in the killing ground Bursts of rifle and machine gun fire disturb the peaceful night Deathly blasts of grenades and claymores ending life Para-illuminating bombs light up the dark of night A glance at the enemy who lie dead or wounded Silence! Darkness is upon us again Moans and groans are heard from the killing ground The smell of cordite hangs in the air Then the eerie silence we all grow to hate The ambush is over and we tremble with regret

Death of a driver Bruce McGregor ponders the randomness of death. In this piece, a driver meets his fate: … Karanda Mission was periodically occupied by Rhodesian forces from different regiments. There were two different routes to this location. Where you were coming from or what the weather was like, dictated the direction of the journey. If coming from Mount Darwin the quick route was through the Chesa Tribal Trust Land and across the concrete drift spanning the river just south of the mission. From the north there was the much longer route (unless you were coming from Mukumbura) via the turn-off south of the Mavuradona mountain range. If it was raining, however, the longer route was necessary unless you had superior knowledge of the drift below the mission. The rain was plentiful during that October of 1974 and the river had been flowing strongly, although the level had abated somewhat the morning I arrived at Karanda Mission. On my vehicle I had supplies for both a ‘Dad’s Army’ reserve unit and a Support Group call sign that were in the area at the time. I had got through via the drift and although it was still overflowing from the rains I had no problem in getting across. The drift, during dry or low

periods of the river, clearly exposed the danger on the upstream edge of the concrete roadway which doubled as a weir. A huge ditch had been gouged out of the riverbed by the churning floodwaters before it. Even when the drift was in flood one could see easily the water breaking over the downstream side of the weir. It was therefore a simple matter of judgment to drive closer to the bubbling water and so ensure you did not drive over the edge of the dangerous upstream side of the weir. While at Karanda there was a convoy that wished to take the shortcut from Rushinga to the Mavuradona range. Seeing that I had made it through easily enough I was asked to assist and guide this convoy over the weir. This was straightforward enough and the crossing was done successfully in just a couple of hours. I returned to the ‘Dad’s Army’ outfit for a rest when two trucks from Support Group radioed in and asked if it was safe to cross the weir. I said I would go down and assist them as well and I managed to get them across with out any problem. At about 1500 hours, I got my escort together and started loading my truck to head off to Mount Darwin but before we left I was requested to shoot a pig for the mission. It was getting late and I really wanted to get moving before the sun sank any lower, so I drove up to the mission from the ‘Dad’s Army’ camp and shot the pig and in a minute I was in the truck again heading for the weir. On arrival I saw another two trucks, also from Support Group, that were negotiating the floodwaters. I waited for them to come across, a little impatient. I could see that they were being really cautious and moving very slowly. I thought of getting out to show them how to negotiate the crossing, but the first truck made it across okay so I thought no more of it. The second Support Group truck waved for me to come through, so as the first truck came past me I gunned my engine and roared into the river. As I got to the weir I slowed down and aligned my left side to just right of the bubbles and then moved through the drift and in less than two minutes I was driving up the other side of the banks, waving thanks to the Support Group driver who had allowed me through. Not stopping, I headed straight for the Chesa–Rushinga road and turned right for Mount Darwin. The next morning I heard that Trooper Stockhill-Gill had drowned when he drove his truck off the upstream side of the weir and into the gaping hole that had been gouged out of the riverbed by the floodwaters. Apparently he had not been able to undo his seat belt. I immediately thought it was the same

guy who had waved me through the evening before. I had terrible feelings of guilt and I offered to go out with Dick Warton and Henry Botha with the wrecker to retrieve the truck. The tragedy of the accident was that the rear of the truck was still well above water and only the driver’s cab was below the water line. I was told that when they recovered his body, Stockhill-Gill had a smile on his face.

Ops in Mozambique Marshall Ross writes: … When I came to 1 Commando in 1974, the sub-unit had been operating in Mozambique for some time. The OC, Major BoydSutherland, had everyone operating in Tete Province. It was a terrible place in which to patrol, consisting mainly of sparse mopane woodland with very little water in winter (the dry season). Waterholes were 40 to 50 kilometres apart. Boyd-Sutherland was a big, tough bloke who didn’t accept excuses. He had a knack of locating things on the map. Once, when 2 Troop were operating in Mozambique, they ran out of water. Keith Bartlett, who was the troop commander, radioed Boyd-Sutherland at mid-morning to the effect that water could be a problem. Boyd-Sutherland studied his map then told Bartlett there was a waterhole a long 26 ‘clicks’ (grid square distance measurement) away. He gave Bartlett the locstat and told him to get his men to the waterhole, fill up their water bottles and be out of the area by last light. The blokes speed-marched and got to the waterhole parched and exhausted. They virtually fell on the puddle, sucked up as much as they could and filled up their bottles and moved off. Fifteen minutes later they began to have stomach cramps. Five minutes after this, four of them were doubled over in absolute agony. The entire troop was then emergency uplifted out of the area by chopper. It was later revealed that the SAS had been operating in the area and had poisoned the waterhole with cholera. On another occasion, Boyd-Sutherland stuck a pin in his map and said that was where the big insurgent Seguran_ça camp was. Twelve guys from 4 Troop were sent in to investigate. They found the camp alright and it was a big one. They estimated that about 200 terrs were in occupation. BoydSutherland sent in another 20 men as reinforcements and the camp was attacked and overrun, the enemy taken completely by surprise. Many of them were killed. The camp was found to be very sophisticated. The only thing above ground was the parade square. Everything else—armouries, hospital

and the like, were underground. It appeared to some of the troops like something out of Vietnam that they had seen in movies or training films. They destroyed what they could and pulled out. On the way back they were ambushed when they stopped for a smoke break and Rifleman Patrick Casal was hit and wounded by a PPSH (a small automatic not unlike an Uzi). The round lodged in his throat. There was no troop medic to perform a tracheotomy and Patrick died …

The Fireforce concept The idea of a ‘fireforce’ reaction was initially discussed by a few forwardthinking RLI officers in the early ’70s, together with some Air Force pilots who had witnessed first-hand the benefits of a flexible, heli-borne assault force. As Pat Armstrong of the RLI so succinctly put it—why waste time and resources with ground troops bumbling aimlessly around the bush when the experts were there to find them? Melson writes: … Revised methods were needed, as expanded by another leader, Wing Commander Peter R. Briscoe: ‘The main problem facing any commander in a counter-insurgency campaign is very basic. How do you force the guerrilla into confrontation situations (contacts) on your own terms, given the fact that the enemy’s tactics and training make him adept at avoiding these situations? He is inherently mobile, albeit mostly on foot, he mixes with the population for concealment and protection, knows the area and will not stand and fight under any circ*mstance except when he has overwhelming numerical or weapons superiority. Army actions alone (ambushes and fleeting contacts) seldom result in the guerrilla suffering significant casualties and follow-up operations on foot using trackers are also of dubious value, as the tracker must, of necessity, move slower than his quarry and stands little chance of catching up with him. Air power used in isolation is similarly ineffective. In order to locate the guerrilla and force him to fight (or surrender), the peculiar attributes of ground and air forces acting in concert are required. Employed in the appropriate manner they provide the best possible chance of inflicting heavy casualties, and combined they provide a formidable fighting force.’ One development brought air and ground efforts together in what was regarded as the most successful, or celebrated, response to guerrilla intrusion. It was a technical solution … and was a direct product of

Operation Hurricane, where ground forces and air assets were brought together for quick response. The COIN (counter-insurgency) manual defined a Fireforce as the ‘immediate reaction to a reported terrorist presence by helicopter-mobile troops in conjunction with appropriate air support’. Contemporary accounts describe it as ‘a number of Air Force aircraft (helicopters and fixed-wing) and personnel who co-operate with a number of Army personnel (troops and paratroops)’. They form a quick reaction team, completely mobile and selfcontained, who are able to provide firepower or assistance immediately on request. The advantage of a Fireforce is that the entire operation can be packed up and moved to a new base within 24 hours. A 4 Squadron pilot wrote: ‘There were three distinct types of Fireforce operations: pre-emptive strikes, Fireforce call-outs and rapid-reaction Fireforce. Pre-emptive strikes were mounted usually as a result of intelligence gained from captured terrorists or collaborators, SAS reconnaissance teams, or aerial reconnaissance by … Canberras or Hunters; these were usually planned well in advance and normally initiated at first light. A request for Fireforce assistance generally came from ground troops in a clandestine OP (Observation Post); there would be little time to plan the operation, normally no more than 30 minutes from call to airborne. A rapidreaction mission would be mounted if ground forces or civilians were under attack, and the Fireforce would be briefed over the radio while en route.’ In his work on the subject, historian J. R. T. Wood, broke this into three phases from 1974 to 1976, 1977 to 1978, and 1979. When JOC Hurricane (under a brigadier and wing commander/group captain) was strengthened in late 1973 and moved to Bindura this left sub-JOCs (under lieutenant-colonels or squadron leaders) at the Forward Airfelds (FAFs) at Centenary and Mount Darwin. The infantry allocations of the RLI and RAR regular battalions and the helicopters of 7 Squadron remained at these locations. While initially helicopters ferried about whatever troops were on hand, it became apparent that a more committed system was needed. The 50 or 60 men available at any one time were put on stand-by, with a third of them on immediate call, a third on 30-minute call, and the remainder available as needed. Named Fire Force in January 1974—the term itself having been coined by Chris Pearce the previous year—its first recorded use was in February 1974 when a terrorist group was eliminated using airborne fire support and infantry alone …

[Originally ‘Fire Force’, the term has over time evolved to ‘Fireforce’ and ‘fireforce’. For the sake of consistency I have opted for ‘Fireforce’.] Melson continues: … A basic Fireforce consisted of a reinforced rifle company of 120 men divided into a command element, helicopter ‘stop’ groups [also known as the assault force or first wave], parachute ‘sweep’ group, and a reinforcement group [the land tail or second wave] to be moved by helicopter or truck. The Air Force component was made up of helicopters, light-attack and transport aircraft with minimal flight and ground crews. Included were command-and-control gunships (K-cars, the K standing for ‘Killer’) and three or four transport helicopters (G-cars, the G meaning Gunship). For example, an RLI commando commander (usually a major) controlled Fireforce ground elements from the air through troop/platoon leaders on the ground with sticks. These compact, self-contained units with greater than normal firepower (an MAG with every fourth trooper) and helicopter gun support were an optimum structure as opposed to earlier infantry section or even platoon deployments. The COIN manual felt that ten sticks (40 men) was optimum. However the minimum was no less than four sticks (16 men), with helicopter backing. A second wave of the Fireforce under the CSM or CQMS moved by vehicle as the ‘land tail’, carrying backup sticks, fuel, ammunition and medical supplies. This wave could be ferried in by chopper if need be. The K-car was armed with a 20mm cannon and the G-cars with twin (later quad) .30-calibre machine guns. The K-car carried the ground commander and the technician/air-gunner [generally referred to as ‘the tech’]. The gunship crew and ground commander wore ‘turtle shell’ one-piece body armour that was heavy (eight kilos) and restricted movement. The seats were later armoured to protect them from bottom and side hits. The ground commander had a leather flight-helmet headset and control switch (push-totalk, intercom and hot-mike) for ground communications while the pilot had the air nets. On board aircraft, stick leaders had headsets available to listen to air radio discussions and carried their own tactical radios on the ground frequency for immediate use on landing. The pilot flew on the right-hand side of the K-car, with the aircraft gunner immediately behind him with the flight deck taken up by the 20mm cannon firing out the left-hand side. The ground commander sat on the left next to the pilot on a jump-seat looking out the left-hand side of the helicopter. This meant that gunships flew a left-hand turn as opposed to the natural right-hand

pull desired by the pilots (helicopters flew in anti-clockwise and fixed-wing aircraft flew in clockwise concentric orbits). The G-cars carried a pilot, technician-air gunner, and a four-man infantry stick. RLI Trooper Anthony Rogers elaborated: ‘Each stick/stop group was led by a stick leader/radioman who was responsible for the A63 set [later A76], codes, maps, mini-binos, compass and a pencil flare. He and two troopers would be armed with 7.62mm FN rifles, for which they carried a minimum of eight to ten magazines apiece. The fourth trooper, a gunner, was equipped with a 7.62mm MAG and at least 200–250 rounds of link. Extra ammunition for the gun was distributed among the stick. We carried our own choice of grenades. These were invariably a mix of HE (high explosive) hand and rifle grenades, WP (white phosphorus) and coloured smoke—the latter used for calling in choppers for re-supply or casevac … Some troopers liked to carry a handgun. Para-trained individuals were entitled to draw the issue 9mm Star pistol. A few owned captured weapons … each stick was equipped with a well-stocked medic’s pack. Some of us also wore around our necks a syringe of sosegon or morphine, and most carried an extra saline drip … virtually any combination of clothing and web equipment was permitted in the bush: I had a one-piece camouflage ‘jump suit’. In the event of a call-out I could quickly pull it over my boots, shorts and T-shirt that I usually wore on the base.’

The corpses of two senior ZANLA guerrillas, a detachment commander and a political commissar killed by RLI troops, are displayed in public in an effort by Special Branch to prove to the local people that the security forces were winning the war. However, such gruesome displays had little impact as the guerrillas simply increased their campaign of terror on the helpless povo—the masses.

A Support Group forward base camp near the Tete border in Op Hurricane.

A Rhodesia Herald article. The RLI provided journalists with much material over the years and, being government-owned, such ‘feel-good’ reports were used to bolster the white public’s morale.

Eunice Walls, wife of General Peter Walls, appears to be holding a bottle of shampoo. Maj. Matkovitch, OC 1 Commando, holds a bottle of whisky.

A new Mercedes 4.5 truck negotiates a dry riverbed. Mercedes trucks gradually replaced the old Bedford RLs. By 1975, the Rhodesians, having learned some harsh lessons, were well advanced in landmine-proofing of vehicles. Note the roll-bars on the back of truck in this picture.

While not present in the early days of Operation Hurricane, later a 3 Squadron Dakota (‘Para-Dak’) added a further dimension with an additional six sticks (later reduced to four or five). These men carried ‘skeleton’ order without packs and little excess equipment with only one to two days’ rations, water, and ammunition. This was phase one of the evolution of the technique, where the tasks of the observation post were to spot the enemy, take a bearing, call Fireforce and give the exact grid reference and description of the target, suggest a route for contour flying to mask Fireforce from the enemy, numbers of insurgents, what clothes they were wearing, likely escape routes, etc. Once the Fireforce was airborne, the observation post would brief the commander again, updating his information so that he could make any necessary adjustments to his plan. As Fireforce approached, the observation post would ‘talk’ the K-

car over the target so that it could be marked. Thereafter, the observation post would continue to observe and draw the Fireforce commander’s attention to enemy movements and the like. Leading the Fireforce in, the Kcar would fly directly over the target, mark it with white smoke, and then pull up to orbit at 800 feet and to command the air and ground attack. As soon as the enemy position or the enemy themselves could be seen, the K-car would open fire with the potent 20mm cannon. The Matra MG151 20mm cannon was calibrated to fire at 800 feet from an aircraft travelling at 65 knots. Because each round cost RH$35, the gunners restricted themselves to bursts of three shells. The weight of the ammunition carried was also a factor because it affected the endurance of the aircraft. The gunners had trays of 100 or 200 shells. The G-cars, led by G One, would orbit the target in a wide left-hand circle, waiting for the K-car to order them to put their stops down … having dropped their stops (on likely enemy escape routes) G One and G Two would fly off to the ‘land tail’ to bring in reinforcements. (G-cars would also make ‘dummy drops’ to confuse the enemy as to the number of troops being placed in cut-off positions.) G Three, having dropped its stop group, remained in the area, orbiting to spot escaping enemy, to drive them to ground with its .303 Browning or 7.62 MAG, and to be available to evacuate casualties or to re-locate stop groups. The K-car commander would keep one G-car back in case problems developed with the K-car and he might have to transfer from it. Waiting to be used the Provost or Trojan (light fixed-wing aircraft—later replaced with a Cessna known as a Lynx) orbited the contact area at 1,500 to 2,000 feet. To keep the heads of the enemy down, while the stops and sweep line were put into position the Provost would put in a rocket and Frantan (napalm) attack. It could also re-strike with its twin .303 calibre guns … A first-hand account of an early Fireforce action comes from Group Captain Peter Petter-Bowyer: … On 4 June 1974, Lieutenant-Colonel Dave Parker, the Army commander at JOC Darwin, asked me to take him along on a recce flight. He had been impressed with air recce successes and wanted to gain first-hand knowledge of how we searched for CT (communist terrorist) camps and what ground patterns attracted a pilot’s attention. His openmindedness and desire to learn from direct experience was very refreshing. Throughout our flight his questions and observations made it plain that he was very switched on. Having shown Dave a few bases I had found

previously we were fortunate to find a new one that appeared to be in use. Surprisingly he saw the base more easily than many of the pilots I had trained and his excitement was infectious. Three helicopters brought in 12 RLI troops (three sticks). Dave could see immediately that they were going to be too thin on the ground to have any chance of boxing in the area around a campsite that offered the CTs a number of escape routes in good cover. I directed the lead helicopter to position 150 metres to one side of the CT base by calling “Camp centre 150 to your right … NOW!” Troops were put down simultaneously on three sides of the camp before the lead helicopter climbed to 1,000 feet to direct the troops towards the camp. The other two put in dummy drops in gaps between the troops in an attempt to make the CTs uncertain of which way to break. They then returned to Mtoko for more troops. Contact was made before Dave and I saw two groups of four CTs breaking at high speed through the gap between the soldiers. Being unarmed I could do nothing about this, and the orbiting helicopter was already engaging CTs inside the camp. We had to be content with two CTs killed and one capturedwounded with no less than eight CTs seen to escape. This experience certainly highlighted for Dave Parker the reason why the Air Force had been asking to concentrate helicopters with permanent reaction troops, not simply to reduce the size of gaps, but to improve the soldiers’ efficiency under the direction of their own airborne commanders. Greater levels of immediate intelligence flowing from Selous Scouts made the availability of this type of reaction group all the more important. There had been a few successes when helicopters and troops were brought together with an Army commander directing his troops from a helicopter. For the most part, however, helicopters had been penny-packeted to meet too many unprofitable calls. This had been at high cost considering the unacceptably low returns for effort expended. It so happened that two Alouette gunships were used for the first time on this very day, though neither one was available for our small action. Earlier in the day, Flight Lieutenant Rob McGregor and Sergeant Henry Jarvie had flown top cover to trooping helicopters. When these had left the scene, a well-known wounded CT leader, who was hiding in a hut with other wounded CTs pinned down the ground forces. This gave Rob and Henry the opportunity to employ their 20mm side-firing cannon, which resulted in the death of all the CTs. During the late afternoon Flight Lieutenant John Annan

and Sergeant Morris fired their cannon in another action but with no confirmed results. The arrival of gunships, improving Selous Scouts effectiveness and Dave Parker’s influence in the field made it possible, at last, to introduce the permanent reaction force the Air Force had been advocating for some time. The Air Force had not been alone in seeking this concentration of forces because a number of RLI commando commanders had been pressing for the same thing. To my own knowledge these included RLI captains Jerry Strong, Pat Armstrong and ‘Dumpy’ Pearce. Operation Hurricane:

An Internal Affairs keep. These forts were manned by District Administrators who monitored the local population. They were often soft targets for the guerrillas and frequently came under attack.

Above and below: Rhodesian Air Force aircraft put in strikes on enemy positions in the Tribal Trust Lands.

An Alouette III chopper-tech checks for obstacles as the pilot touches down to disgorge an RLI stick.

As with the Portuguese assault force at Estima in Tete, Mozambique, this involved grouping troops, trooping helicopters, helicopter gunships and armed fixed-wing aircraft. We could not possibly match the uplift capacity of the Portuguese but we had the advantage of having very aggressive RLI soldiers and could provide their commanders with a seat in a gunship from which to observe and direct them. The continuous presence of a gunship overhead each action also facilitated immediate supporting fire to ground troops or to engage targets moving beyond their reach. Within a few days this reaction force, soon to be called Fireforce, was put into effect and the results achieved over the following six months were astounding. Dave Parker had much to do with bringing the first permanent combined force into being at Mount Darwin. Dave was a truly superb individual who was held in high regard by all who knew him. He was blessed with many talents that included flexibility of mind and a desire to actively seek and receive the opinions of others without regard to their rank. He absorbed everything he heard before reaching decisions that were

reduced to clear-cut plans and instructions. He also had that rare ability to admit to occasional error, never offering excuses for his own mistakes. It was no wonder that the RLI troops nicknamed Dave Parker ‘The King’. Five weeks after my flight with Dave Parker I flew with the Army commander at JOC Centenary and found him to be the exact opposite of Dave Parker. My flying logbook shows that this somewhat self-opinionated and intolerant individual accompanied me on a visual recce that lasted for only one hour and 25 minutes. He had become bored and asked to return to Centenary on the pretext of matters requiring his urgent attention; a marked contrast to Dave Parker’s flight of over six hours following which he had expressed disbelief at having been airborne so long … Regarding the type of troops required to man Fireforce, Melson writes: … In June 1975, the Operations Co-ordinating Committee (OCC) published basic Fireforce doctrine for the security forces calling for the employment of only ‘well-trained troops’ such as the Rhodesian Light Infantry or Rhodesian African Rifles to ensure success …

A black day for 2 Commando On 19 July 1975, an unnamed Territorial unit initiated contact with an unknown number of insurgents near a river line. They killed two in the initial fire fight and the remainder fled in the direction of a bend in the streambed where they took up a very good defensive/ambush position under the exposed root cover of the overhanging trees on the bank. The troops meanwhile had called up Fireforce at Mount Darwin. This was being provided by the men of 7 and 10 Troops, 2 Commando. On arrival at the scene the troops began a sweep of the river line. As they approached the river bend they came under fire from the concealed insurgents. A Territorial Army sergeant and RLI rifleman Hennie Potgieter were killed instantly. Ken Lucas, Corporal Jannie de Beer’s MAG gunner, received a leg wound. Reinforcements from 7 Troop arrived and Major Meyer deployed two sticks under Lieutenant Joe du Plooy to sweep the streambed toward the position of the downed men. At this stage it was believed that the enemy had fled. There was also the mistaken belief that the sergeant and Potgieter were alive. With this in mind, du Plooy ordered Corporal John Coey, an American medic, into the streambed to see if he could render medical assistance. The insurgents instantly opened up on the exposed troops and Coey was killed

almost immediately, shot through the head. He fell at the feet of his officer. The action continued for the remainder of the afternoon and into the evening during which two further troops were wounded, one being du Plooy himself. (Du Plooy was later killed in action in 1979.) At nightfall, stops were placed in ambush around the insurgent position. Later that night the insurgents made a break for it. They ran into Jannie de Beer’s stick and a fire fight ensued during which de Beer was killed and one of his men wounded. The enemy escaped. Beryl Salt adds the Air Force perspective: … members of the RLI were making their way down a dry riverbed when a ZANLA group hiding in a small cave opened fire on them. From their position higher on the embankment, the other members of the patrol could not see where their fellow soldiers had fallen or whether they were still alive. A K-car was called in, but the ZANLA position was too well hidden. In the silence, an RLI medic heard moans coming from the riverbed. He moved forward, was hit by terrorist fire, and fell. The RLI soldiers moved forward and one of them was shot dead, and two men, including the RLI officer, were wounded. They pulled back. The afternoon passed. No further attempts were made to reach the wounded men. Night fell bringing with it brilliant moonlight. Two Alouettes took off from Mount Darwin. As they began their approach to the river, the pilots switched off their navigation lights—now only a faint light came from their instrument panel. Outside the windows, the silver moon lit up the barren countryside. The two helicopters flew close to the riverbed and the pilots were given an update on the situation that had not changed for several hours. Hand grenades were thrown into the riverbed below the cave and rounds were fired at likely hiding places. Then three men went downstream and entered the riverbed. Cautiously, taking every opportunity for cover in the brilliant moonlight, they moved upstream. At one stage, thinking they had heard something, they opened fire but there was no reply. At last, they reached the place where the three men lay. They were all dead. Above them, they could see the cave hideout, which the ZANLA men had used. They lobbed a couple of grenades into the opening but with no result. The enemy had long since escaped. It had been a bad day for the RL1 … Bruce McGregor recollects that this contact, more than any, plunged the commando into depression. He was at Mount Darwin at the time and assisted in collecting the bodies. He had personally known de Beer as they had

transferred from the SADF together. He helped carry de Beer’s body to the hospital and recalled: ‘I looked at him and could not believe that he could look so lifeless. I have never forgotten that image.’

Operation out of Pfungwe airstrip, 1975.

RLI troops hang out on a Land Rover near a kraal.

BSAP trackers with their dogs. These men and their dogs were fearless and would often be the first to encounter the enemy on follow-up operations, very often with both dog and handler losing their lives. The policeman at left appears to be wearing a Portuguese Army cap.

An Alouette III gunner-technician’s view as a helicopter approaches the relay station known as Oscar Base on a re-supply mission during counter-insurgency operations in the Uzumba-Maramba-Pfungwe district, 150 kilometres northeast of Salisbury.

ZANLA on the back foot—and the Portuguese collapse With the advent of the Selous Scouts and Fireforce, along with the doubling of the length of National Service to one year, the security forces began to get the upper hand. In 1974, 345 insurgents were killed, which accounted for over 75% of their leadership. By the year-end less than 300 were estimated to be left in Rhodesia and these were confined to the northeast. All of them were on the run. In this year, however, two significant events occurred which were to hasten the demise of Smith’s white rule. The first and most important was the collapse of the Portuguese government in a military coup on 25 April 1975. Mozambique was hastily handed on a plate to Frelimo, who took power in mid-1975. The Rhodesians now found themselves with an extra 1,100 kilometres of border to defend. With the exit of the Portuguese, ZANLA were able to establish themselves freely in Mozambique with the full support of the Frelimo government headed by Samora Machel.

The second event came as more of a shock when Rhodesia’s main ally and supporter, the South African government, decided to enter into what it called ‘détente’ with the leaders of the so-called ‘Frontline States’ i.e. Zambia, Tanzania, Botswana, Angola and Mozambique, in an ill-fated attempt to solve ‘the Rhodesian question’. In his talks with the leaders of these five countries the South African Prime Minister, John Vorster, secured a deal— Kaunda would not allow Rhodesian insurgents to infiltrate the country and in exchange Smith would declare a ceasefire and release all political detainees who would then attend a conference, united under the moderate Bishop Abel Muzorewa. On the success of this strategem Vorster’s apartheid government would be officially recognized by the Frontline States. It seems incredible that Vorster could have believed that this ruse would succeed. At any rate Rhodesia paid the price for this gross miscalculation, though it did buy the South Africans a few more years. The Rhodesians, with clenched teeth, foolishly and naïvely observed the ceasefire to the letter. Not so the enemy. They cashed in on the security force inactivity to re-establish themselves. Worse still, ZANLA brazenly used the inactivity of the security forces as a sign to the rural population that the Rhodesian forces had been defeated.

Casevac On 11 December 1975, the Rhodesia Herald carried this story of a typical casevac: … A Rhodesian patrol emerges from the bush and approaches a lonely kraal in the border war zone. The time is 0905 hours in the morning; the heat of the sun mounting now as morning wears on and is broken by a few clouds. Though weary and dirty, after an all-night operation, the patrol is alert, weapons ready. Among the small cluster of huts, members of a terrorist group may be resting or hiding. As the Rhodesians come closer, the terrorists may well be ready to spring an ambush. There is no ambush; instead the patrol finds the villagers huddled round a bloody figure, sprawled in the dust outside one of the huts. Last night a group of terrorists entered the kraal and forced everyone out of their beds at the point of loaded Kalashnikov rifles and demanded to see the kraal head. After accusing him of helping the soldiers, despite his denials, they beat him on the face with their rifle butts, stabbed him in the chest with bayonets and left him for dead, before walking away into the night.

The Rhodesian patrol worked quickly. While a medic begins to treat the wounds, another trooper is already on the radio calling base. “We have a wounded man here. Head and chest injuries. Tribesman beaten by terrs. Need immediate casevac,” he says, giving the time and location. The Joint Operations Centre received the call in the operations room at 0910 hours. Four minutes later, helicopter pilot Kevin Peinke lifts his craft off the ground and heads north at top speed to the lonely kraal. “We can’t afford to waste time. We do a fair number of casevacs and speed is essential,” the young pilot comments. At the kraal, the wounded man is made comfortable on a blanket. The wounds are already cleaned and bandaged. Other members of the patrol question the small group of villagers about the night attack. When did they come? Did you recognize them? When did they leave? What direction did they take? The radio crackles again and information is passed quickly to base. The rebels may be spotted from the air or tracked down in follow-up operations. At 0920 hours, eleven minutes after leaving Mount Darwin, the helicopter lands in a field within metres of the kraal. Already, as the sound of the chopper is heard, the patrol on the ground has the casualty on the stretcher. They stand at the edge of the field and as the aircraft lands, they run forward, crouched to avoid the slashing blades, with the wounded man. Dust clouds the sky as the rotors slice through the air the casualty is quickly placed in the helicopter behind the pilot. The medic jumps in holding up the bottle which drips plasma into the victim’s bloodstream. At 0929 hours the helicopter is in the air again and on its way back to Mount Darwin. The patrol, reorganizing, leaves the kraal and sets out into the bush on the trail of the rebel group. It could be a busy day. At Mount Darwin Major J. Ferguson, the doctor in charge of the base hospital, prepares to receive the wounded man. The small operating theatre is ready, and he already has a good idea of the injuries involved. “The casualties are not always brought here. If the wounds are very bad, we send them straight through to the hospital at Bindura or even Salisbury,” he says. “But if the wounds do not appear too serious, then the base hospital can handle it. It’s amazing how quickly we can get a casualty out, sometimes even in difficult conditions. I have done several night casevacs and they can be pretty hazardous.” The last night casevac Major Ferguson was on, the helicopter blades had chopped some branches from a tree as it landed. “But the pilots are

magnificent. They will do everything they can if there is the slightest possibility of getting in, no matter what the conditions. They go out of their way to save a life even if it means risking their own,” he comments. At 9040 hours the pilot sets the helicopter down on the small landing pad near the camp hospital. Two minutes later, only 37 minutes after being found by the security forces patrol the wounded man is on the operating table being examined and prepared for treatment and somewhere in the bush north of here, Rhodesian troops are searching for the gang that attacked him …

A death at Pachanza Keep Charlie Warren joined 3 Commando in 1974. He remembers the death of a buddy in August 1975: … Special Branch intelligence dictated most of the deployments at this stage of the war. I was still new with the commando and the war as such was still in its infant stages, so to speak. I had met South African Herman Gustav Pfeil, who was in 14 Troop, and he was a hard-working guy who spoke with a very heavy Afrikaans accent. He helped everyone where he could and was liked by everybody. He and the Englishman Martin Hudson (whose nickname was ‘Pudding’, given to him by the Commando 2IC, Captain Kip Donald) were very good friends. Herman, or Harry as his friends called him, had quickly worked his way to the rank of lance-corporal in the short time he had been there We were told to get ready for night deployments on 20 August to ambush paths leading from the Mozambican border. The intelligence received indicated that the terrs would be crossing that night into Rhodesia from Mozambique. The commando was based up not too far from the border fence northeast of Mount Darwin. All the sticks that were deploying that night were dropped off in the Pachanza Keep area, to walk to their ambush positions and set up their ambushes in the hopes of having the terrs walk through their positions. I don’t remember whose stick I was in but it may have been Grant Hughes’ stick. It was already dark, although there was a bit of moonlight as we set up our ambush site. It was on fairly high ground overlooking a maze of paths that ran east to west and was obviously a well-used track—either by civvies or terrs. (Note that these were early days and due to the amount of lemons we had been given previously, our ambush was not conducted with much enthusiasm.) We had set the trip flares and the stick commander was detailing arcs of fire and placing his machine gunner in an effective

position to gain as many kills as possible. There was not much cover for us and we had a rocky outcrop directly behind us. We were busy sorting out our kit out next to the positions allocated to us when all hell broke loose about 500 to 800 metres northeast of us. We looked at the stick commander, who was just as bewildered and he indicated for us to get ready for a contact. At the same time he switched on his radio to try and ascertain what had happened. The radio silence was deafening, but we could still hear the other stick firing their weapons and moments later it all died down. Eventually after about 15 minutes, the radio cackled into life and the news came through that Harry Pfeil’s stick had been preparing their ambush when a gang of terrs had walked into them. In the ensuing contact Harry was killed. It was so quick no one could believe it—one minute you are there and then in a split second you were gone. The ambush position was by now compromised and everyone in the stick was more than alert. It just went to show that the terrs were out there and after being stuffed around so much in the beginning doing listening (and generally aimless) patrols, you actually woke up and smelt the coffee; that there was actually a war going on. I wasn’t there when Harry’s body was collected and returned to Salisbury, and eventually to South Africa for burial, but when we were uplifted to return to base camp there was a very sombre mood in the camp. Understandably so. We were addressed by the OC and generally given a pep talk and told to ‘switch on’ as the war was now on our doorstep. Martin Hudson was particularly upset as he and Harry used to hang out together and were really good buddies. I felt sorry for him but as I had not been in the commando long enough to make friends with anyone, I kept my distance and passed my condolences to him later. I caught a wake-up after Harry’s death and always ‘switched on’ when we went out into the bush, whether on ambush, OP or general patrol.

RLI troops clowning around at Pfungwe airstrip

This gunner-tech is wearing non-Rhodesian camo; it’s either South African or Portuguese. The weapon appears to be the earlier MAG installation with a Collimateur sight. This was the forerunner of the twin .303 Browning installation in the Alouette III.

Standing Orders for Dying It wasn’t all doom and gloom. Some wag cobbled together this amusing piece, submitted by Terry Griffin: … … It has been brought to the attention of Army HQ that men have been dying without the previous permission of a superior officer. This practice will cease forthwith. It must be fully understood by all ranks that the manpower shortage is still acute and any man dying without first obtaining permission, commits a serious offence, to which the only answer is disciplinary action. The attention of all ranks is drawn to Army HQ circular 4/1974.

Dying: The following drill will be carried out by all members of 1RLI: 1. No man below the rank of sergeant may give the order to die. 2. The person ordered/given permission to die will be known in all cases as the victim. Under no circ*mstances will the victim be allowed to die in his own time. On receipt of orders the victim will die by numbers as follows: Victim 1: The victim will stagger forward a full pace of 30 inches followed by two short paces of 27 and 25 inches respectively, at the same time allowing the eyes to glaze over. Victim 2: He will sink slowly and smartly to his knees, counting out the correct time 1 2 3 1, then fall on his face, arms outstretched, thumbs to the front and in line with the ears. Victim 3: He will lower his legs, toes resting on the ground, heels at an angle of 30 degrees and in line with the shoulder blades. Victim 4: Then in his own time, the victim will be allowed to draw his last breath. The death rattle will not be used, except for ceremonial parades or when ordered by an officer (not below the rank of major). a. Before dying, a map showing the route to Heaven will be drawn from the QM. Uneaten portions of the day’s rations will be drawn to be eaten en route. b. There will be no overtaking on the route to Heaven. Any officer passed on the way will be paid the usual compliments. c. On arrival at the destination the victim will report to the Orderly Room of No. 18 Angel Corps for angelification. He will draw on arrival the following articles of kit: Harps Brass x 1, Wings Pairs x 1, Clouds Fleecy x 1. d. Harps will be clean, bright and highly strung at all times. e. Wings will be balanced with flickering stardust No. 3. f. Clouds will be checked for condensation and refilled with anti-freeze as necessary. g. Victim will parade one hour after arrival for halo fitting. Dress: Loose order, wings at the glide, harps at the port. For No. 18 Angel Corps only. There will be a duty angel in the orderly room at all times, holding the rank of not less than P/A/L/ Saint. Dist. Copy: St. Peter

Notes

Dedication parade At 1000 hours on 31 January 1975, the entire battalion paraded at the RLI Barracks with the band of the 1st Battalion, Rhodesian African Rifles. This parade was very much a family affair. Former commanding officers of the battalion, Lieutenant-General Peter Walls, Colonel Jack Caine, Colonel Derry MacIntyre and Lieutenant-Colonel Rob Southey attended. The parade was also well attended by a large number of ERE members (RLI serving with other units) from all over the country. The parade was held, more or less, in concert with the Freedom of City of Salisbury and was to impose lasting memory on our unit for the role it was playing, the success achieved in action and to revere those who had given up their lives . Next of kin of members of the battalion listed in the Roll of Honour and Book of Remembrance had also been invited, and many were able to attend. The commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Dave Parker was the reviewing officer, while the parade was commanded by the 2IC, Major M. J. Swart. During the parade Lieutenant-Colonel the Reverend Norman Wood conducted the drumhead service Retreat At 1800 hours on Regimental Day, 1 February 1975, a large gathering of guests witnessed the Retreat, in commemoration of the battalion’s 14th anniversary. Base Group and 1 Commando formed the guard, to the music of the band of 1RAR. The principal guest was the Minister of Defence, P. K. van der Byl. After Retreat, the officers’ mess held a regimental sundowner, the WOs’ and sergeants’ mess held a ball; and the corporals’ and troopers’ clubs held separate sundowners followed by a combined disco. During the course of the evening the Commander of the Army, Lieutenant-General G. P. Walls, visited all these venues, accompanied by the CO, and proposed a toast to the regiment at each mess. In 1968, the Prime Minister, Ian Smith, proposed a toast to “The Incredible RLI”. This year at the toast, General Walls stated, “Thank God for the RLI.” Training Troop The troop spent much of October 1974 in training exercises at Ngezi Dam. Many innovations and training methods were practised as the battalion was always keen to keep abreast of new techniques. The 2IC, Major ‘Boet’ Swart, surprised all by being able to drive an RL in anti-ambush drills, lie in

ambush all night (without warm clothing) and actually managed to control a wild stick of PATU from Featherstone, during a COIN op. This last, however, resulted in a clash with the Training Officer who was reputed to be able to detect an insurgent position 200 metres distant, blindfolded, on a dark night. The QM, the indefatigable Major George Walsh, arrived in time to witness this débâcle and worse, the ‘Ngezi Disaster’ (details not disclosed!) in which the entire canteen for the DS staff and other items of equipment were destroyed. Operation Hurricane, the definement and refinement of the Fireforce concept:

Helicopter deplaning drills.

A Fireforce operation in the northeastern area of Op Hurricane.

An RLI Fireforce sweepline advances toward an enemy position behind the smoke of a bushfire caused by tracer bullets.

An RLI stick emplaning. At left is Trooper Dave McKeith.

1 Commando The commando settled down to some serious business after sampling the delights of civilization (beer and women) on their return from their latest tour in the ‘shateen’. This involved two weeks’ intensive training on a Trooper to Lance-Corporal cadre for regulars, and basic continuation training for ENS members. Also included was a rugged ‘run-down’ shoot, open to everyone in the commando, regular or ENS below the rank of corporal. The Lance-Corporal cadre ended with a braai (barbecue) at Cleveland Range, where the OC presented awards to Trooper D. Myburgh (Best Trooper); Trooper J. van Bruggen (Top Shot); Trooper G. L. Chilcott (2nd Shot); Trooper E. Austen (3rd Shot) and Trooper G. Tiernan (Bottom Shot). As a result of their high standard on the cadre, Troopers Myburgh, Naudé and Clarke were promoted to lance-corporal. The commando also congratulated the following on their recent marriages —Lance-Corporal the Honourable Mark Wrottesley, Bart; Corporal Brian Lewis; Corporal ‘Barney’ Rumble; Lieutenant Deon Kriel and Corporal Paddy Gallagher. The commando also extended their congratulations to Lieutenant Alan Lindner and his wife on the recent birth of their daughter. 2 Commando On 13 September 1974, the commando congratulated Colour Sergeant Eddie Fouché on the award of the Bronze Cross and Corporal Trevor Hodgson on the award of the Military Forces Commendation (Operational). These were the commando’s first operational awards for gallantry. The commando obviously appealed to the fairer sex, being formally ‘adopted’ by the Rotary Anns of Salisbury Central whose practical help included adding the magical ‘woman’s touch’ to the troopies’ television room. Women’s organizations from all over Rhodesia took the commando to heart. ‘Goodie bags’ containing cigarettes, sweets, books, balaclavas, gloves and socks, from the ladies of Empress Nickel Mine, the Girl Fridays of Gatooma, the ladies of Kariba and the ladies of Essexvale, poured in. 3 Commando The Commando featured in a ‘new look’ recruiting programme supplying the ‘faces’ for television and press advertisem*nts. The campaign was

engineered by an advertising agency after much work and a few ‘chibulis’ with ‘the Lovers’. The date and location having been set, shooting began. The OC acted as military advisor and script-writer while members played at soldiers. A lot of work was done and the constant “Great! Let’s shoot that again!” finally took its toll when an exhausted Trooper Slabbert threw a dramatic tantrum and walked off the set. 720000 Trooper Saint, RLI Not since 1967 had the RLI had a mascot. However, in February 1975, thanks to the Department of National Parks and Wildlife Management, the battalion once more boasted a cheetah. The incumbent, 720000 Trooper Saint, RLI, was a nine-month-old orphan and was temporarily attached to Ozzie Bristow’s Lion and Cheetah Park for ‘training’ and taming. His arrival was welcomed with a champagne party at the park. In the mornings he was free to romp but in the afternoons Mrs. Bristow would sit in his cage and feed and talk to him while sewing. Corporal Mostert was appointed as his future handler.

Christmas tragedy As 1975 drew to a close, ZANLA’s generals, having regrouped, under the direction of Josiah Tongogara, launched their summer offensive. This time there would be no stopping. The insurgents would over the next few months quickly begin to number in their thousands inside Rhodesia, and in their tens of thousands outside the country. Shortly before Christmas, a SAAF Alouette III helicopter, piloted by Air Sub-Lieutenant Johannes van Rensburg, hit a steel pylon on a farm in the Cashel area near the Mozambican border, south of Umtali. Major-General John Shaw, Colonel David Parker, and Captains John Lamb and Ian Robinson were killed, and the pilot seriously injured. Perhaps an omen, but either way, shocked white Rhodesians were plunged into mourning.

References Charles D. Melson, ‘Small Wars and Insurgencies’, Vol.16, No. 1, March 2005 J. R. T. Wood, ‘Rhodesian Insurgency—Phase II: 1972–1974’, Internet

Lt-Col R. E. H. Lockley, ‘A brief operational history of the campaign in Rhodesia from 1964 to 1978’, Lion & Tusk, Vol. 2, No. 1, July 1990 Charles D. Melson, draft ‘The Killing Machine’, 2003. An extensively researched monograph on the Fireforce concept Assegai, September & November 1974, February 1975 Peter Petter-Bowyer, Winds of Destruction, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa 2005 Beryl Salt, assisted by Wing Commander Peter Cooke & Group Captain Bill Sykes, A Pride of Eagles: The Definitive History of the Rhodesian Air Force 1920–1980, Covos Day, Johannesburg, South Africa 2001

Above: from left: Judy Ellison, Dawn Doughty, Faith Doughty and Lt. Prinsloo.

Dawn’s Rhodesian Army identity card.

Gavin Hulley-Miller and Dawn Doughty.

American Hugh McCall joins 3 Commando.

1 Commando’s Marshall Ross and Ed Nel get up close and personal …

A 12 Troop, 3 Commando patrol in Chiredzi commercial farming area. From left: L/Cpl. Phil Kaye, Tprs. Rob Scott, Rich Burton, Trevor MacIlwaine, Tony Costa and Tony Chilcott.

Rob Scott, Trevor MacIlwaine and Phil Kaye relax on OP duty in the Lowveld.

7 Troop, 2 Commando troopers strike a pose before a raid into Mozambique, 1976. Standing from left: Hugh Gatland, Guy Mackenzie (KIA) and Stu Hodgson at right.

6 Troop 2 Commando on patrol in the Honde valley, with the mountains of Mozambique in the background, 1976. At left L/Cpl. Bill Chambers and Ed Sudbury, sitting.

Scissors! 12 Troop MAG gunners Soares and Scott appear to be playing hic-hac-hoc.

11 Troop men on a bunker at Grand Reed, 1976. From left: Pete Garnett (KIA 1977) with the Browning shotgun, Charlie Norris (who took a head shot in 1979), Graham van Biljon and Trevor Schoultz (who took a head shot in 1977).

1 Commando leaving Salisbury for ‘the bush’, 1976. From left: Hennie, ‘Ox’ Tenant, Terry McEnery and Chris Isaac.

The 3 Commando ‘mercs’ pose on a bunker at Sabi Star on the Mozambican border prior to the raid on Rambanayi, 1976, sardonically wearing the ridiculously cumbersome NATO helmets. From left: Tpr.

Cliff Griffiths (Australian), Cpl. Fraser Brown (2 Commando, British), Tpr. Pete Donnelly (British), Cpl. Bob Smith (British), L/Cpl. Matt Lamb (Canadian, KIA) and Tpr. ‘Sammy’ Beahan (British), wearing a Frelimo cap.

3 Commando base camp in the Gona re Zhou game reserve in the southeastern lowveld of Op Repulse. Camo’d up and ready for action are John Connelly (British) and Hugh McCall.

Troops clamber aboard a Mercedes 4.5. Note the roll bars and the armour plating, angled so as to deflect the blast of a landmine.

3 Commando base camp in the Gona re Zhou. A vast area, this harsh, unforgiving tract of land claimed the lives of unknown numbers of infiltrating guerrillas who literally died of thirst. Fireforce operations:

An Alouette hovers above thick ‘elephant’ grass before touchdown

Above and below: A helicopter collecting second-wave troops on a main tar road, while a Fireforce contact is in progress nearby.

Oops! It appears this Alo’ has lost its nose wheel.

Alouette IIIs parked inside the secure revetments of a Fireforce base. This appears to be Buffalo Range, near Chiredzi/Triangle in Op Repulse.

The sequence of photos at left shows a Fireforce ‘land-tail’ in action. After the initial call-out from the Fireforce base, the second wave of troops would embus onto vehicles, pre-loaded with drums of helicopter fuel and spare ammo and high-tail it toward the contact area, in order to reduce turnaround flying time for the helicopters, and thereby getting as many troops into the contact area as quickly as possible. On arrival at the most suitable and nearest spot to the contact area, the troops would unload the 44-gallon drums of Avgas fuel for the inbound choppers to refuel and return to the action with fresh ammo and troops.

An RLI soldier on OP duty. Although this is a black-and-white photo, it well illustrates the effectiveness of the Rhodesian camouflage patterns. In September 1976, the SAS, 2 Commando and 3 Commando combined to raid the Frelimo camp of Rambanayi, across the border from the Burma Valley and near Chicamba Real Dam (below) in Manica Province, Mozambique. Frelimo/ZANLA suffered 32 dead and the RLI a few minor casualties.

The camp burns. Several Frelimo corpses can be seen lying in the dry riverbed.

Blowing the bridge at Rambanayi in an effort to prevent a Frelimo follow-up. It didn’t work as literally hundreds of Frelimo troops, mobilized from the neighbouring areas, chased the RLI troops all the way back to the border.

Unimogs with mounted MAGs were on stand-by to drive in and hot-extract the Rhodesian troops, who had walked in to Rambanayi.

13 Troop, 3 Commando mop up after the raid. A dead Frelimo soldier lies among sundry military matériel which includes several Russian helmets.

Top: L/Cpl. ‘Mad Mike’ Reynolds—12 Troop, 3 Commando stick commander in 1976; Middle: 1 Commando members embussed to ‘hurry up and wait’. From left: Chris Isaac, George Dempster and Terry McEnery. Dempster later became 3 Commando’s MA2 medic; Above: Terry McEnery, Charlie Dawkins and Chris Isaac at Mt. Darwin Fireforce Base, 1976.

Top: Lt. Rod Smith BCR, OC 11 Troop, 3 Commando—with a beard as he was recuperating from his wounds received in December 1976; Middle: Snyders and McEnery brew up, Mtoko TTL; Above: Outside 3 Troop’s tin shack at Mt. Darwin, 1976. From left: Dempster, McEnery, Isaac and Smit.

Top: Butch Alexander (2 Commando), killed in action in Mozambique, 16 December 1976; Middle: A trooper checks out a shack inside a Protected Village (PV); Above: One Three Bravo having just broken ambush in the morning, Mtoko TTL.

The Support Commando armourer strips an AK-47. Fireforce wasn’t the sole preserve of the RLI. Several other units regularly performed Fireforce duties with distinction, notably the Rhodesian African Rifles and various Territorial outfits. Even the SAS got involved from time to time.

Recce Troop National Servicemen from 1 Independent Company (later to be integrated into the Rhodesian African Rifles, the RAR) inspect their handiwork after a successful Fireforce operation in the Op Tangent area of Matabeleland.

The vast, arid areas of Op Tangent in Matabeleland, on Rhodesia’s western borders. This was ZIPRA turf, with guerrillas infiltrating from Zambia to the north and Botswana to the west.

Above and below: A temporary Fireforce base on a rural airstrip in Op Tangent.

The Battle of ‘Hill 31’, November 1976, which heralded the bigger battles to come. At left, the frontpage article in the Rhodesia Herald which appeared the following day.

A few of the 11 Troop, 3 Commando soldiers after the battle in which 32 guerrillas were accounted for. Standing from left: Tprs. Dave Peebles, Phil Prosser, Pete Grant, Graham Hutley, L/Cpl. Bob Smith, Tprs. Paddy Berry and Steve Prowse. In front are Sgt. Laurie Ryan, the enigmatic 4RR tracker who initiated the contact and Tpr. Willie Smit with the MAG. Mountains of enemy weapons and kit were recovered. See story on page 199.

The Honde Valley, bordered to the west by the imposing Inyanga Mountains and to the east by Mozambique. Because of the high population density and rugged terrain, the Honde Valley was to prove a profitable infiltration route for ZANLA guerrillas.

Song of the 28th Here is a story I must tell you Of a boy who was taken from home To fight for his drink and his freedom And for the loved ones he left at home Now he was taken to the northeastern border That’s where most of the fighting was done And it was there that an RLI soldier Was shot by a terrorist gun As he raised himself up on his elbows The blood from his wounds it ran red

He turned to his comrades beside him And these are the words that he said Won’t you bury me high on a mountain Where the cross stands facing the sun So they buried him high on a mountain Where the cross stands facing the sun By Gary O’Driscoll and Billy Wiggill

Escalation—Operations Thrasher, Repulse and Tangent With the failure of détente the conflict was resumed. Robert Mugabe’s ZANU had been expelled from Zambia. Fortunately for ZANU, its military wing ZANLA was now well established in Mozambique. ZANLA opened up three more sectors—this time in the Manica province, namely Tangwena, Monomotapa and Musikavanhu. ZIPRA, erstwhile comatose, had reawakened and began operating in Matabeleland. Lockley writes: … On 21 January 1976, a crossing of 90 terrorists took place south of Nyamapanda. We contacted that group the morning after they crossed. Four were killed and one was captured. The story he gave us was that they were part of a simultaneous three-pronged assault on Rhodesia. However, their plan did not work, in that the second assault in the Melsetter area by 130 terrorists took place some five weeks later and the third assault in the southeastern area took place seven weeks later i.e. three months after the first assault. This meant we were able to deploy troops accordingly. In February 1976, Operation Thrasher started and in May 1976 Operation Repulse began … ZIPRA were numerically inferior to ZANLA and, of course, had not been involved in the war for a number of years. We therefore saw ZANLA usurping positions of authority and command to the detriment of ZIPRA. The effect it had was that in the training camps in Tanzania, namely Mugagao and Morogoro, inter-faction fighting took place. In one of these clashes 400 terrorists were killed and in another 200. It had a side effect that when these combined groups, normally consisting of eight ZANLA and two ZIPRA terrorists, entered Rhodesia, the ZIPRA element would desert and head back for their home areas. Of course the same disunity existed throughout the war with the myth of the Patriotic Front.

In mid-1976 therefore, there was a gradual drift of these ZIPRA elements through Rhodesia toward Francistown (Botswana). The more dedicated of them collected recruits as they went through the country and committed various acts of terrorism. At this time, ZAPU had been told in no uncertain terms by the OAU (Organization of African Unity) that unless they took a more active role in the war they were to be cut off from all funds. As a result ZAPU groups, led by Russian-trained intelligence agents, infiltrated across the Zambezi. This led to Operation Tangent being opened in August 1976. The Geneva conference took place later that same year. At this meeting the Patriotic Front [a union of convenience between the traditionally opposing ZANU and ZAPU, termed ‘the unholy alliance’ by Smith] became the party to negotiate with in the eyes of the British and American governments …. Richard Wood writes: ‘ZANLA spread itself among the Shona people, attempting to politicize them by fair means or foul. ZIPRA, on the other hand, preferred to recruit fighters and would only exert serious pressure out of Botswana and Zambia in 1977.’ Up until now the Rhodesians had fought a war of containment but survival tactics soon dictated a different strategy. They were now going to take the fight into the enemy camp and give him a taste of his own medicine with devastating effect—this year was to see the start of the external raids into neighbouring, hostile territory. Chris co*cks adds: … From a troopie’s perspective, it was all quite straightforward and we could never understand why the politicians and the generals didn’t see it ‘our way’. We were a crack unit and had fast proved ourselves on Fireforce operations even as early as 1974. But at least half the time, many of us were bumbling around the bush on futile patrols and OPs in the middle of nowhere, achieving nothing … often deployed, not by our own OC, but by some clueless, part-time TF colonel or brigadier, into unfamiliar territory chasing phantoms—when a short distance over the border, nicely grouped into ripe targets were hundreds, if not thousands, of guerrillas. Reid-Daly of the Selous Scouts saw it all quite clearly (as proven by his startling successes at Nyadzonya camp later in 1976), but the battalion had to wait until November 1977 before it was finally let loose on a full-scale external operation, and even then with only two commandos. We could have won the war in 1976, but our leaders were either too timid or lacked vision. They just didn’t get it, and when they finally did wake up, it was a case of too little too late. The whole complexion of the war had changed, but we didn’t seem to be changing with it; certainly not fast enough at any rate …

Support Group becomes a commando In the RLI itself Major Pat Armstrong had arrived at Support Group and began to agitate for the sub-unit to be reformed as a fully fledged commando. His efforts were rewarded and Support Commando officially came into being on the 6 January 1976. Support Group had, the previous month, moved out of Base Group to form its own administrative entity in a tin hut behind Base Group HQ. Later, half of Base Group was bricked off, making Support Commando completely separate from Base Group. Armstrong was also instrumental in setting up the bar and lounge in two of the bottom-floor barrack rooms. This also had a verandah and a foyer where commando photos, trophies etc. were housed and displayed. Until January 1976, Support Group/Commando had no mascot. In that month Colonel T. M. Davidson, then 2IC 2 Brigade at Bindura, presented the commando with a Wahlberg eagle as a mascot. The eagle was in keeping with the commando flag whose main motif was an eagle. The eagle was never given a name and was unfortunately lost by Captain Piet Farndell at Grand Reef in April 1976. Captain Farndell was then tasked with replacing it. In August 1976, he duly acquired an African hawk eagle chick from the Guinea Fowl area, which was adopted as the official commando mascot and named Henry. Unfortunately Henry abused the trust of his keeper LanceCorporal André MacDonald, and ‘took the gap’ in October 1979.

Dawn joins 1 Commando The idea of recruiting women for service in the regular Army had produced an excellent response. The RLI received its share of RWS (Rhodesia Women’s Service) members. Dawn Losper (née Doughty) recalls: … I joined the Rhodesian Women’s Service in 1976 after my fiancé, Sergeant Peter White BCR, had been killed in action. Pete was killed about six weeks before our wedding date. I was absolutely devastated. At the funeral, just to see the guys from 1 Commando and talk to them helped. It was then that I decided, that joining the Army would help me over my grieving. The course lasted two weeks—it covered some military law and some drill and weapons training. I enjoyed weapons training the most—I was fastest at stripping and re-assembling my Uzi and pistol blindfolded. My grouping on a full target wasn’t bad either, though it always seemed to be in

the crotch area. On completion of the course my special request to be posted to 1 Commando was granted—it does help to have friends in high places. If I thought I would be welcomed to 1 Commando I was sadly mistaken. I was told in no uncertain terms that the RLI was no place for a lady. Huh! As I was the first woman to be posted to a commando, I realized it would be an uphill battle to get accepted, but I would not let that deter me and I was not leaving. It took about a year before I was accepted. In the meantime I decided to turn my attention to getting the office in order, followed by the CQ store and finally the armoury. Here I found several boxes on the floor and wondered why they had this substance leaking out of them. I chucked them on a shelf and made a mental note to find out what they were. Later I was told the boxes contained gelignite, a malleable explosive material. I was very shy when I joined the commando, but soon learned to hold my own. They were always playing tricks on me—I would find a frog pinned to my notice board or a dead bird hanging off my car aerial; condoms placed over my car exhaust which exploded as I drove down the road and I would almost end up in a ditch. On one birthday I arrived at my office to find the whole room decorated with blown-up condoms. The guys enjoyed that. Then there was the time that Blondie Leatham and Ed Sunquist pulled a long piece of mutton cloth over my head, tied a knot in both ends and dragged me up and down the corridors. I was then dragged into the shower block and given a cold shower … ‘great fun’. Boys will be boys. My efforts to have a nice commando garden were futile; I couldn’t stop the troopies from driving their trucks over the beds and lawn and RSM Springer made a comment that I would have to plant landmines to keep them off. They were however happy for me to water ‘their plants’ while they were in the bush. I discovered later that these were dagga (cannabis) plants … no wonder they kept disappearing. My actual job in the commando was as a clerk but I ended up doing much more. Often when the troops left for the bush I would be asked to order flowers for girlfriends or wives, get their cars serviced or anything else that needed doing. I also got all my truck licences—2.5 (Unimog), 4.5 (Crocodile) and Land Rover and, I can tell you, I earned every one of them. Most of the guys, if they had a civvy licence, could just drive the trucks, but oh no! not me. When I did my 2.5 licence I was put through my paces—up and down steep gomos (hills), into deep holes and told to get out of them and across the meilie fields at the back of the commando—until my teeth rattled. Thanks Sergeant

Hammond! It was great to have the licences because I had a good excuse to go to the bush if they needed anything. I went to quite a few of the op areas— Mrewa, Mtoko, Grand Reef, Fort Victoria, Buffalo Range, Crooks’ Corner, Mount Darwin and Rutenga. I also got the opportunity to fly in the Dakotas with the guys when called out on an op; I learned to fire the 20mm cannon in the K-car; I even tried to get on a para course but was not allowed. When I was in the bush and there was a call-out I was always on the side of the runway to see them off with a prayer to look after them. My three years in the RLI was the best job I have ever had—every day was different—it was hard, sad and exciting, all at the same time. I feel privileged to have served with the men of the RLI. I left with the rank of corporal. It was the most amazing experience of my life …

Fresh poes, nashos and foreigners Chris co*cks writes: Intake 150, which passed out in May 1976, was something of a watershed in the history of the RLI and the complexion and dynamics of the battalion would never quite be the same again. From 1973, the RLI had been forced to take in conscripts (national servicemen) to bolster numbers but invariably the regular volunteers had outnumbered the conscripts, and the latter were assimilated into the various commandos without too much fuss. By sheer volume of numbers (150 was by far the largest ever RLI intake) Intake 150 changed all that as the majority were 18year-old white national servicemen (many of whom simply did not want to be there). Considerably outnumbering the ‘old soldiers’ (the regular veterans) when they arrived in the commandos, they were greeted with suspicion, acrimony and resentment and in many cases victimized mercilessly—treated in much the same way as the fresh American ‘grunts’ arriving for the first time ‘in country’ (Vietnam)—effectively cannon fodder. In many respects the ‘old soldiers’ were justified in viewing this flood of green rookies into their ranks as something of a threat to their high military standards and the old ways and traditions of the battalion. In ‘the old days’ a rookie (or ‘fresh poes’—highly derogatory term of Afrikaans origin, a kind translation being ‘fresh meat’) would be gradually assimilated into a stick of four, three of whom would be vets. He would be coached in the art of combat and survival in the bush by the three vets and in time would not be regarded as a liability. With Intake 150, the ratios were reversed and it was not

uncommon to find one veteran stick leader with two, sometimes three rookies. Not surprising that casualties were uncommonly high among Intake 150 members in their first few weeks in action. (This trend was to continue to the end, reaching a climax in 1979 with new soldiers being killed within a week of arriving in the commandos. Trooper Robbie Francis is a case in point—killed in action on his first day in 3 Commando.) The ‘old soldiers’ were therefore justified in feeling the combat standards of the battalion were slipping. This was exacerbated by the fact that many of the Intake 150 soldiers were simply not of Army material let alone of RLI standard. But the ZANLA summer offensive of 1976, which saw thousands of guerrillas infiltrating the country along the freshly opened fronts of the eastern border with Mozambique, forced the Rhodesian High Command to churn out the numbers in ‘sausage-machine’ mode to combat the threat. I know of several recruits in 150 who, for medical reasons, should not have even been in the Army. Recruit Kevin Rhodes is such a case. He was blind in his left eye but somehow this had been overlooked during his medical! An aggressive soldier with great potential, he was nonetheless critically wounded during his first bush trip with 3 Commando in the Mount Darwin area in May 1976—he hadn’t seen a guerrilla in ambush on his left flank. And then throw into the mix the ‘foreigners’. Intake 150 had a significant amount of foreign recruits (the start of a ‘flood’), many, but not all, of whom were professional soldiers who had seen service in such units as the American Green Berets and Airborne units, the British Paras, Green Jackets, Royal Marines, SAS, Grenadier Guards (to name but a few) and a fair sprinkling of Aussie and Kiwi Vietnam vets (plus sundry Legionnaires, South Africans, Germans, Brazilians, Portuguese et al). These ‘foreigners’ brought with them their weird languages and cultures and tended not to be intimidated by the ‘old soldiers’ of the RLI. The ‘foreigners’ soon became an integral part of the battalion and contributed greatly to the fighting reputation of the unit. (An interesting aside is that the ‘foreigners’, because they were generally unfussy about consorting with black women, went a long way in changing the racial perceptions previously prevalent in the unit.) The white Rhodie ‘nashos’ (another derogatory term for national servicemen—this time from the Brit regulars), however, brought to the battalion a level of education that was previously unknown. Many had plans for tertiary education and a few were already graduates. Some of the more visionary officers and NCOs recognized this as the boon that it was and

encouraged these ‘nashos’ to sign up as regulars and pursue a military career. Many did so successfully, with several going on to become officers, senior NCOs and a few winning awards for bravery. An interesting observation—the first ‘victim’ of this large influx of foreigners and national servicemen was the RLI taal—to civilians and other units that incomprehensible linguistic mix of Afrikaans slang and Coloured invective—the ‘nashos’ and the ‘foreigners’ simply did not understand it and were little inclined to learn it. Instead the foreigners instilled their own slang and dialects into everyday RLI usage. From Vietnam words like ‘gook’ replaced the Rhodie ‘terr’ or ‘floppy’ and ‘hooch’ replaced ‘basha’ or ‘bivvy’. ‘Don’t cut me rough or I’ll file you smooth, ek sê’ became the exception rather than the norm. By 1977/78, the RLI taal was slowly becoming a thing of the past, spoken only by the ‘older soldiers’ who knew no other lingua franca. Back to Intake 150, which in time, successfully integrated into the commandos. Credit for this is due to the regular officers and NCOs, in particular the commando CSMs and the battalion RSM—the warrant officers who brooked no dissent and who at all times maintained standards through iron discipline. The precedent was set for subsequent large national-service intakes—Intake 156 in 1977 and Intake 162 in 1978. However, by then, discrimination against ‘nashos’ was fading, so much so that as from the latter part of 1978, they were ranked as ‘troopers’ as opposed to the TF ‘rifleman’. More importantly, as from Intake 156, national servicemen would be paratrained for Fireforce duties (most 150 national servicemen were not). The waste was that, for Intake 150, having eventually integrated into the commandos, in a few short months their time was up and they were demobbed into civvy street, from where they went on to do their Territorial call-ups with TF battalions. Valuable combat experience was thus lost. Eventually someone in the High Command cottoned on to this and as from Intake 156, the para-trained national servicemen would return to do their sixweek call-ups with the commandos from late-1978 on. The SAS and Selous Scouts had been recalling their TF members for many years, so quite why it took the RLI so long to wake up to this is a mystery. Perhaps the lessons from Vietnam were still too fresh to understand. In my opinion, a new recruit arriving in the commandos was basically a liability for the first six months or so. Although his training had been thorough, actual combat experience was not something that could be taught. So, add his four and a half months’ basic

training to his six months’ learning curve in the bush and it’s nearly a year before a soldier is worth his salt (most casualties were new recruits fresh into combat). In Vietnam, a grunt’s tour of duty was a year—by the time he’d become ‘combat-wise’ or bush-wise he was demobbed, only to be replaced by fresh ‘cannon fodder’. Perhaps more of a liability than a national-service recruit was a nationalservice officer. The training period at the School of Infantry in Gwelo for regular officers in the RLI (and other regular units) was twelve months— extremely comprehensive and on par with the best in the world. Nationalservice officers, like their fellow riflemen, only underwent a four-and-a-halfmonth training period. Again, because of manpower shortages, the RLI was occasionally obliged to make use of these ‘four-month wonders’ as they were unkindly known. There’s nothing quite as dangerous to friendly forces as an 18-year-old national serviceman with one pip on each shoulder, an ego and a know-all attitude. Fortunately, an influx of experienced foreign officers made up the numbers, as well as NCOs coming through the ranks. Nevertheless, many national-service officers served creditably and were accepted by the troops. Regardless whether regular or TF, officers were judged critically by their men. In Dennis Croukamp’s eyes there are only two types of officers— good ones and bad ones. Equally alarming were the national servicemen in the RLI who became Training Troop instructors from 1978/79 onward (referred to as ‘jamstealers’ by the veterans). Having done their basic training, they would immediately undergo a Drill & Weapons course, which qualified them to instruct new recruits in the art of counter-insurgency warfare. With zero combat experience, these instructors, who could undoubtedly drill with military precision, comprised the majority of Training Troop instructors. To be fair, efforts were made in 1978 to give these fellows some bush experience—and (much to their horror) they were posted off to the commandos for a bush trip or two. It is little wonder that the battalion suffered increased casualty rates in the last two years of the decade. Prior to 1977, Training Troop instructors were exclusively regular soldiers, most with many years’ combat experience, and who were only in Training Troop to further their military careers or because they had been wounded in action. But all said and done, national servicemen and foreigners were an integral and necessary component of the battalion. Indeed, the battalion could not have existed without them. But whatever the various shortcomings, and in

spite of this messy hodgepodge of national servicemen, regulars, foreigners and local boys that made up the battalion, or perhaps because of it, there was always a certain, unidentifiable magic to the RLI. An Irishman, who joined 3 Commando from the British Parachute Regiment in 1976 and who would prefer to remain anonymous (“Being a Paddy in the Paras in 1975 wasn’t the brightest idea! It’s not the kind of accent you can hide under a Para beret in Belfast.”), attempts to capture some of this magic: … I don’t feel worthy enough to have a say about the lads in those days and I would feel embarrassed if I was mentioned in the same breath as them. Don’t go thinking how noble I am; I can assure you I am as arrogant as the next man. But in this case I think that for the above reasons I should stay anonymous. Here, listen to this story. While we were at Grand Reef on Fireforce (where have I heard those words before?), Puds invited some of us over to his family house. Well what can I say, except that one of the lads, it might have been ‘Shoulders’ Smith, decided that one of the black female staff was the woman of his dreams, and for a fistful of dollars, she became so. Needless to say this was discovered and the whole gang was sent packing. Remember Log Enslin? Do you know we were sent to protect a farmers’ get-together at some country club somewhere. I can’t remember where it was, but anyway, as I lay out on the f*cking cricket pitch with my MAG and two back-up lads, freezing my bollocks off, old Log was getting pissed as a rat at the function. And to compound matters he was the only one who could drive the f*cking truck. So there we were, frozen, hungry and horny as hell because there was an ample group of fine, buxom young ladies at the said soirée, who I am sure would have loved to have been as one with our group of hardened and very hard commandos, but as we bounced through the cold African night, old Log kept shouting out in a drunken voice, “You lot don’t know how lucky you are. Tourists pay thousands of bucks for a trip through the bush at night.” Before I go I have to tell you something. I never seemed to get on with that great big rock spider [derogatory term for an Afrikaner] Corporal Marius Marais, or for that matter with Lieutenant Adams, but one day at Mount Darwin—I had been on light duties with an eye infection; there I was with this great big f*ck-off white patch over my eye—I was lying in my pit when the door flew open and Adams and Marais were standing there. There had been a call-out and the boys were having a punch-up. Adams said that he had

to put together two stops with the odds and sods and the sick and lame. When asked if I was fit, I of course said, like the congenital idiot I am, that I was and pulled off the patch, grabbed my MAG and joined Adams’ stick for an insertion into the contact area. The day went well; there was the usual cull. Kim Goodson was shot in the leg that day, but anyway we were uplifted late in the evening. The thing I will always remember to my dying day is, as I alighted from the chopper and made my way back to the billet, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to find a beaming Marais and Adams. Adams just said, “Well done Paddy,” and Marais in his usual Slope speak managed a mangled, “You went good today Irishman.” I am now 54 years old; I’ve seen the T-shirt, bought it, ate it, shagged it and shot it. But for that short bright moment, as I stood there, sweaty, dirty, with yet another beautiful African sunset about to take place, I felt that whatever I achieved in the future, nothing, but nothing, would equal the sheer sense of pride that I felt in being acknowledged by these two veteran soldiers. All my life, up until then, I had been in search of something. I found it that day and, I have to say, I have been trying to find it ever since. Simpies! Yes that’s him, do you know that one night he achieved the impossible and annoyed old Pudding Hudson, who was a nice bloke, beyond measure. Well Simpies wound him up so much that when Simpies was on guard up at Mount Darwin, old Pudding gave him 15 extra duties for annoying him. I would sit near the old boiler chewing the fat with Pudding and Simpies would wander by on guard in sh*t order and Pudding used to gently tell him to get a grip and wear his webbing etc. and stop looking manquée. But old Simpo just blithely ignored him, until finally we had the first sight of Pudding’s temper and Simpo felt the full blast, not a pretty sight I can tell you. I miss old Simpies. He used to make me laugh. Mind you it was always at his own expense. I honestly thought that Log Enslin was going to shoot him once. Simpo just wandered out of our perimeter on deployment for a crap and didn’t tell anyone and, as he wandered back in, I saw the Log going up into the aim and shouting “Stand to!” But in wandered Simpo, with his usual “What’s the prob ouens? Are we under attack?” so the Log, as was his wont, didn’t shoot but gave him an almighty thump in the head. It had no effect at all … no brain to damage you see. If you see that half-wit Simpies send him my best wishes and tell him I love him. Really … Another foreigner, Australian Tony Young, also reminisces: … Having experienced recent military service, and thus having been inserted into an

RLI recruit course that was just about to start its COIN (Counter-Insurgency) phase of training, I had only been in the country a few weeks when I had an interesting ‘Welcome to Africa’ experience. For the preceding week, my RLI recruit course had been on exercise in the Lake Kyle area, undergoing COIN training in the Lake Kyle game reserve area. At the beginning of this deployment, my bivvy partner and I had the misfortune of being allocated a large expanse of flat rock for our bivvy and rifle-pit location. This rock shelf was so large, it was impossible to shift to better ground without such a move being immediately obvious to our instructors. Unwilling to earn the wrath of our instructors that a self-initiated move or even a request for an alternate site would surely bring, we made the best of a bad situation. As it was impossible to dig in, we shifted a number of large rocks from nearby to construct a stone sangar across which we then slung our bivvy halves. As our instructors were apparently pleased with the way our training had gone, on the last night at Lake Kyle, recruits were rewarded with a temporary relaxation in the form of each recruit being allowed the unheard-of luxury of two bottles of beers. Given that with any group there are some who do not drink beer, it thus came about that some resourceful recruits were able to get their hands on more than the intended allocation. My ‘Welcome to Africa’ experience happened the next morning during those few minutes just before true dawn, when the darkness of night is still heavy but there is enough greyish light beginning to seep through that one can make out nearby objects in vague definition. As was our usual routine, my bivvy partner and I were awake well before first light and were quietly setting up our brew gear when we heard a noise coming from a close but unseen location in the bush, about 30 metres to our front. As the noise sounded like someone blowing down the neck of an empty beer bottle my partner and I came to the conclusion that it must be one of the more resourceful recruits who, still intoxicated from the previous evening, was wandering around playing the fool. As I was aware that as a recruit there was no such thing as individual guilt and that punishment for any transgression was generally meted out to the whole course, I felt it wise to get the bottle-blower back to his bivvy before any instructors noticed he was missing and the inevitable fire and brimstone descended upon us all. I had only walked a couple of paces toward the noise when it changed significantly in character from a soft, hollow, resonate

blowing sound to that of a loud, deep, guttural growl that clearly was of nonhuman origin. My reaction was instantaneous and instinctive. I turned and, diving back into the sangar in one fluid movement, grabbed my FN as I landed and brought it around to bear over the top of the sangar wall, chambering a round in the process. The deep growl must also have been heard by fellow recruits in nearby bivvies as it was immediately followed by a number of other FNs being co*cked, all with the distinctive, metallic, crunching sound that is made as a round is chambered. Without further incident, or sighting of what had made the growl, the routine dawn stand-to procedure followed and about 30 minutes later, all the recruits formed up on a dirt track for the usual morning run. A couple of hundred metres down the track the bush opened out to a large vlei where, about 150 metres off the track was a large tree, with a small pride of adult lions lolling about underneath. At breakfast, my fellow Rhodesian recruits (much to their amusem*nt) proceeded to educate me on the habits of lions— that they often prowl around the perimeter of a camp and that the noise I took to be ‘bottle-blowing’ was in fact, a lion’s typical coughing sound. Welcome to Africa! …

Fireforce matters The idea of para-training the commandos for operational duties materialized in November of 1976 when a troop from 1 Commando underwent a basic static-line course at New Sarum. It was the start of a much wider concept in battle deployment at which the battalion would excel. We can note here that the RLI trooper holds the world record for operational jumps. An allied paratrooper of World War II considered himself a veteran after one operational jump (e.g. Arnhem)—the RLI paratrooper’s record includes three operational jumps in one day—all at different locations—with each one involving a successful fire fight. Para training started in earnest for the battalion in 1977 and is discussed further in the following chapter. The insurgents were also honing their battle skills. On 27 March, Major Mike Ainslie of A Company 1RAR was killed when serving as a Fireforce commander. Wounded in the same burst of fire was the K-car pilot Air Lieutenant Childs. G-car No. 1, piloted by Air Lieutenant Mike Borlace, took several hits which knocked out the hydraulic servo-system. On heavy manual control and still carrying troops Borlace continued to orbit over the

insurgents who were being engaged by his tech/gunner Mike Upton firing burst after burst. Finally, with the gearbox warning light on, Borlace was forced to land. A week later he was again flying G-car No. 1 and about to put down troops when he took more hits. He was wounded in the right hand (limiting its use to index finger and thumb) and the left inner thigh. One of the soldiers aboard sustained an arm wound. Writes Petter-Bowyer: … All this now meant that ZANLA’s ability to hit aircraft had improved significantly, indicating that, again, no thanks to the Vorster-imposed ceasefire, a great deal of effort had been given to antiaircraft training prior to the CTs’ return to Rhodesia. Almost all engagements hereafter resulted in hits on aircraft, sometimes killing or injuring aircrew and soldiers. The centrally mounted tanks of the Alouettes presented a relatively large surface area and over time they suffered many hits. Fortunately Avtur fuel does not ignite easily and a self-sealing compound that was wrapped around the tanks prevented fuel loss. Other aircraft were not immune. Lynx had been hit when firing Sneb rockets or dropping Frantan, necessitating the fitting of guns to this aircraft so that like the old Provost it could use its guns for covering fire all the way down to the point of Frantan release … Air Force pilots, particularly the older, more experienced pilots, made a huge impact on how a Fireforce operation was handled. Most, if not all Kcar pilots could effectively control a Fireforce operation—many had been involved in the concept since its inception and had in fact assisted greatly in its development and execution. In many respects, the pilots, with hundreds of hours combat flying time under their belts, were the stabilizing factor, the voice of cool, calm professionalism for the young Army K-car commanders. Pat Armstrong remembers how he’d learned from the pilots never to raise his voice and at all times keep cool—so much so that he made it clear to his stick leaders on the ground that if they panicked or shouted on air, he’d refuse to talk to them. Considering that a K-car commander might have under his command a dozen or more sticks at any one time, with many perhaps involved in separate, simultaneous contacts, total control was critical in order to maximize enemy kills and minimize friendly casualties. Being a successful K-car commander was certainly an art, which didn’t necessarily come naturally. Above all, he had to have the total respect and confidence of his ground troops.

Gordon ‘Jug’ Thornton, a successful K-car commander in 3 Commando, sums it up: … From the moment the siren sounded, the mind accelerated to maximum speed. We rushed through the briefing, jotting down as many points as possible with barely enough time to run out to the K-car. With turbines winding up, rotor blades spinning, Lynx taxiing, and paratroops kitting up, there was not much communication between the ‘Brown Job’ and the ‘Blue Job’ K-car pilot, who was busy with the tasks of getting airborne, and overseeing his wing of aircraft. Dependent on the distance to the gooks, there might be time for reflection between the Army K-car commander and the pilot. In reality, most of it was listening in to communications, updates, orientating maps and assessing the situation. Traditionally, the K-car pilot got his flight of aircraft established over the target, then, at a clearly distinct moment in time, handed over to the Army K-car commander. The challenges at hand were multiplied if, immediately upon arrival, there was a scattering of bad guys rushing off in different directions, which, on occasions were spiced up further by the crack and thump of rounds passing by the Perspex. If you couldn’t remember where north was, or couldn’t keep track of multiple call signs on the ground, all moving in different directions, while at the same time orbiting continuously at approximately 800 feet in neverending circles, then you were not the man for the job. I recall distinctly my first K-car outing. I was very wide-eyed, but surprisingly not nervous. Danny Svboda was the K-car pilot. Being older and more accustomed to the war effort than I was at that point in time, he made it clear that I was not invited to participate in any form of communication until such time as he gave the okay, clearly pointing out a switch on the control panel commonly known to the Blue Jobs as the ‘f*ck you’ switch, to be utilized if the Army commander communicated too early or incoherently. The moment came. Danny looked across at me and said clearly, “Over to you, baby shoes.” A good K-car commander needed exceptional situation awareness—not only of where nearby aircraft were, but more importantly of where the call signs on the ground were, and the location of any other friendly forces in the vicinity. Clear and concise communications were of premium importance. Everyone needed air space to report their situation, especially if contact was made.

The importance of understanding the character of each call sign commander and being able to interpret what had been said at moments of high stress greatly assisted the command and control scenario. As much as the stick commanders on the ground were reliant on the K-car commander for situation awareness and clear, concise instructions, they needed faith in knowing that they would get support when they needed it. The K-car commander had to understand the men on the ground and be intimately knowledgeable of what their situation was. Some call signs could take instructions clearly and execute them accurately. Others need repeats, re-interpretation, and continual guidance in order to get them to the right place to do the job. An understanding of the need for the Blue Jobs to have air time to communicate inter-aircraft was essential. Especially when sticks were being put down or picked up, or casualties pulled out of the area. Fireforce was indeed a combined taskforce. Any inability to communicate clearly or to listen effectively inevitably resulted in task failure, acrimonious accusations, or worse, casualties to the troops on the ground which could have been avoided. I found my time in the seat of a K-car both challenging and fulfilling. It was, in the concept of our war, possibly one of the most important roles to undertake, in a complex symbiosis of Air Force and Army, all in the pursuit of the one goal—the destruction of the enemy with as few friendly casualties as possible. The return to JOC was normally a joyous event, assuming we hadn’t been on a ‘lemon’ or had suffered serious casualties. The interaction from the moment one stepped out of the chopper with fellow aircrews and the Army sticks alighting from G-cars, being joined by the paratroopers who either would have been choppered in or trucked back, was generally a moment of wonderful camaraderie and good humour, to be followed by the chance to assess what had gone right and more importantly, wrong. If the Army commander in the K-car had done anything less than a good job, the atmosphere back at base would immediately reflect this through all the parties who had participated in the sortie. The chances were he would not get another K-car selection. The ground troops would be well aware of his performance, and far too often the price to pay for a mediocre performance was simply too high …

1 Commando in Operation Hurricane

Included from hereon are a series of contact descriptions, drawn mainly from contact reports and witness accounts where possible. These contacts are by no means all-encompassing as the sheer number of contacts would fill volumes. The contacts described are selected, in some cases almost randomly, from a wide cross-section of actions to attempt to give the reader some idea of what transpired on a daily basis from 1976 onward. On 28 February 1976, a composite troop of 18 members of 1 Commando commenced a follow-up at 0800 hours at the eastern point of the Chibara Hills, heading west. Corporals Cookson and Hosking were tracking. A National Parks game tracker by the name of Smith later joined them. Around lunchtime the tracks split in two, heading north toward the Mavuradona Mountains. Cookson and Hosking went on one set of spoor and Smith on the other. Hosking and Cookson eventually relocated the main spoor and called the call sign to join them. At 1430 hours the troops, with the trackers ahead of them, walked into an ambush. In the initial burst of enemy fire Doug Cookson was killed and Dave Hosking seriously wounded. Lieutenant Paul Morpuss was also wounded. The troop returned fire and the enemy withdrew, enabling Hosking and Morpuss to be casevaced. A sweep was organized and a further five contacts ensued, lasting until darkness fell. During these contacts Sergeant White BCR, Trooper Diedricks and Smith, the tracker, were killed. Troopers Dipenaar and Wilkinson were also wounded. At the end of the day 1 Commando had lost three men, including the tracker, and three members wounded. They had accounted for 19 enemy kills and one capture. As a consequence of this encounter 1 Commando’s pub was named ‘The 28th’ in memory of those who fell on that day. Marshall Ross recalls: … I remember the day they died and Dave got wounded. I was on tracking course at Kariba with Terry Vice (‘Bludnut’) at the time. It was 28 February 1976. They were in the Chibara Hills and I think we lost about three or four guys that day and Dave Hosking is lucky that they got him to Karanda Mission on the Ruia River in time to save his life—tough little bastard. The 1 Commando bar was named after that date and my mum was presented with an award for designing the 1 Commando badge at the official opening of the pub. I still remember the day well because Eddie Nel and I had just finished the troopie-to-lance-jack course and got pissed on the truck coming back from the final exercise near Banket …

Stu Taylor, in his forthcoming book Lost in Africa, recalls: … My sergeant mate [Pete White] and I had drawn straws as to who would go in first and he had won, so I had gone in behind him as we formed our sweep line. My stick was slightly behind and to the left of his as we made our way cautiously through the rocks and thick undergrowth that typified the area—slightly south of the area where we’d had a snotsquirt a few years before in a vehicle ambush—I wonder if the intelligence guys had pinpointed this as a hot area? Just my thinking all these years later. Chibara Hills saw quite a bit of action. Off to our right there was a heavy burst of fire and minutes later my mate’s radio operator came on air informing us that he (my mate) was down. An instant later he came up again and informed us that my mate was dead. Then another burst of fire accounted for another guy from that same stick. We had lost four that day—with seemingly no casualties on the other side. We carried on our sweep line, firing at anything that either fired at us, or resembled the enemy—then my stick was opened up on from behind and one of the guys was wounded in the rear end—there were four gooks there and we aboutfaced and they were no more for this earth—we weren’t too happy about our guys being shot. The action continued well into the day, with helicopter gunships supporting us and us dispatching enemy on the ground and it was quite honestly a confusing situation—there were pockets of enemy dotted at random throughout the area and they were taking pot-shots at us as we swept through the bush and we were doing our best to cull them as we saw them. Choppers went back and forth ferrying the dead and wounded and refuelling and rearming and then returning to the battlefield, with the crews assisting us in trying to eliminate the enemy. We swept and re-swept the area and each time we accounted for a few more kills. Then it was all over. It was after dark when the last chopper came in to uplift my stick back to base. The final toll for that worst day in the history of the commando was four dead (three guys from the commando and one Territorial tracker) and four wounded (one seriously, but he survived)—but we’d depleted the enemy ranks … Beryl Salt records the Air Force’s perspective on the action, and the subsequent review of medical support: … On 28 February 1976, in the northeastern border area, a group of RLI soldiers was tracking a large number of terrorists when they came under fire. In the first contact, the tracker was killed and one officer and a corporal were seriously wounded. Soon after this, a sweep line made contact with a further group of insurgents in dense bush. Another member of the RLI was wounded. Flight Lieutenant

Rob McGregor and Air Lieutenant Ginger Baldwin of No. 7 Squadron were flying in support of the men on the ground. Rob supplied top cover while Ginger carried out the evacuation of the wounded men. The landing zones were extremely small, and heavy enemy fire was directed at both the helicopters. Trooper Kenneth Daly, the medical assistant, helped with the evacuation, briefing the pilot on the nature of the wounds and the urgency of getting the casualties to hospital. Rob McGregor later returned to the contact area at night, under extremely difficult flying conditions, to resupply the troops with ammunition. Both Flight Lieutenant Rob McGregor and Air Lieutenant Ginger Baldwin were awarded the Military Forces Commendation (Operational). The increase in armed incursions resulted in enormous pressure being exerted on security force medical personnel. In order to alleviate the situation, civilian medical practitioners and specialists volunteered to do fortnightly stints in the operational areas. At the forward airfields, periods of ‘sit around and wait’ were interspersed with intensive activity when there was a contact or a landmine explosion. The doctors often travelled aboard the helicopters or fixed-wing aircraft to the scene of a contact. They carried a medical kit that was fully equipped for minor surgery to be performed on the spot. They could set up drips in the field, remove foreign matter from a wound, dress it, and administer morphine and antibiotics before the patient was flown to the nearest hospital. Patients with head or spinal injuries could be flown directly to the nearest city where a landing pad was available in the hospital grounds … In the early afternoon of 13 September the pilot of a PRAW (Police Reserve Air Wing) aircraft spotted what he believed to be an insurgent base camp while overflying an area of vlei lines with belts of mopane woodland in the Madziwa TTL south of Mount Darwin. Fireforce (4 Troop under Lieutenant David Scott-Donelan) was deployed but could not immediately identify the suspected base. They orbited the area for a while which prompted two insurgents to break cover and run. Both were engaged by the K-car and killed. Stops were dropped into the area where the insurgents had emerged and a sweep found a resting place for six. Sweeping on, the troops followed the fugitives’ flight path. The K-car spotted an insurgent kneeling behind cover some 30 metres ahead of the sweep’s advance line, seemingly with the intention of ambushing it. The K-car came over and the gunner, Sergeant R. Blumerie, shot him, with the sweep line finishing him off.

Continuing, the sweep found tracks of another insurgent, which they followed for about 200 metres. They then saw him aiming at them from behind a tree. He was engaged and killed. Spoor of a further two were found and followed but they were quickly lost among the rocky ground. The follow-up was then aborted. The insurgents’ aggression was noted as they had not fled when they’d had opportunity to do so but had decided to fight it out. Scott-Donelan also noted that the K-car gunner’s accuracy in hitting the ambushing insurgent had prevented the possible death or wounding of sweep line members. Later, on the same day, in the Bushu TTL, a patrol from 4 Troop, commanded by Corporal Jansen van Vuuren, saw three insurgents on a rocky outcrop in the fading light at sunset. Van Vuuren made a hasty attack plan and sent a stop group around the enemy flank to block off their expected flight path. With no time to lose, he then took the remainder of his call sign around the northern side of the outcrop and assaulted the enemy position, killing one and capturing one wounded. A third fled, running past and parallel to the stop’s position. He was fired at but made good his escape, vanishing into some dead ground. A follow-up on the escapee’s tracks the following day was unsuccessful as the spoor was lost to the rocky ground. Two AKs and four stick grenades were recovered and handed in to SB Mount Darwin. Scott-Donelan noted how van Vuuren’s quick thinking and good tactical application had resulted in success. Still on this day, in the totally subverted area of the Kandeya TTL, a clandestine patrol of 4 Troop, led by Second Lieutenant Seton-Rogers, was moving into a kraal from the north. The kraal lay south of a saddle flanked on the west by a hill feature. To the south was tall grass and directly east was an open maize field. It was last light and as they moved in they had an unexpected encounter with an insurgent. They opened fire and he went down. Another came running from behind a hut and was shot. The troops then immediately spread out and advanced through the kraal. They heard a shot and saw another insurgent running across the maize field. He was shot dead. The villagers were then questioned and gave out that two further insurgents had escaped. It was later revealed that Seton-Rogers and his men had killed the enemy sectoral commander and the senior medical officer. Two AK rifles, a Tokarev pistol and two stick grenades were recovered, along with a 60mm mortar with six bombs.

3 Commando in Operation Hurricane

Roddy Smith, a young subaltern at the time, recalls an unusual event: … 11 Troop’s first encounter with bees came in May 1976. Although I had been in the RLI for over a year by then, it was also my first real contact—up to then the closest I had come was being on the fringes of a minor scuffle. I had been commissioned just after the announcement of the ‘ceasefire’ at the end of 1974 (“THE WAR IS OVER” trumpeted The Rhodesia Herald but this proved to be a touch premature). The Rhodesian government had entered into this arrangement in naïve good faith; ZANLA had entered into it because they were in serious trouble and needed a time-out. The tactics the Rhodesian Army had developed in Op Hurricane were proving highly effective and the guerrillas were taking heavy casualties. The ceasefire was a heaven-sent opportunity to pull their embattled fighters out of Rhodesia and regroup. They were able to do this at leisure and in perfect security in Mozambique now that the Portuguese had pulled out and the Rhodesian government, who were labouring under the curious delusion that Frelimo (who had been ZANLA’s closest allies for years) might suddenly become our new best friends, were not allowing cross-border operations. ZANLA were thus given carte blanche to set up supply routes and staging camps from which to deploy—not only into the existing op area in the northeast of Rhodesia—but all the way down the eastern side of the country as far as the South African border. By April 1976 they were ready, and the excreta was about to hit the fan in earnest, and from a lot of different directions. On 15 May, 3 Commando, on Fireforce duty at Mount Darwin, was called out to a sighting in the Karuyana African Purchase Area. 13 Troop was dropped to sweep along the Karuyana River while we (11 Troop) were put down some distance away. Heavy fire directed at the helicopters from thick bush on the riverbank soon confirmed the enemy’s position. Flight Lieutenant Jed Bennie responded to the fire immediately with an air strike and Kip Donald in the K-car directed us toward the area. The 13 Troop sticks had already made contact at very close quarters in the thick undergrowth. Captain Len Pitch, a TA officer on voluntary attachment to the commando, was shot in the chest at point-blank range; Lance-Corporal Percy Hodgson managed to extract him and he was casevaced. (He died three days later, a sad loss—he was a very popular officer.) Shortly afterward, 11 Troop reached the main contact area and with 13 Troop was sweeping through it and along the river line. There were a few short, sharp contacts along the way. In one of these Trooper Mike Day was

wounded in the knee and face by shrapnel from a grenade. In another a terr who had tried to hide by submerging himself in the river was sorted out by the simple means of dropping a frag grenade into the water. By midday the action seemed to be over with all the terrorists accounted for. We were conducting a final sweep along the river line with the river on our right flank before moving to an LZ for uplift. Suddenly there was a commotion to the left and Paul Furstenburg, my gunner, came rushing headlong through the bush. I watched dumbfounded as he went straight past me and, closely followed by the left-flank man, dropped his MAG on the bank and plunged into the river. What the hell was going on? Rabies? Mass hysteria? A second later all became unpleasantly clear as the air filled with the hum of thousands of angry bees. I dived under the thickest adjacent bush I could see, covered up as best I could and waited for them to go away, which fortunately they did quite soon. More by luck than design I had managed to retain my rifle, which gave me the moral high ground in bollocking the swimmers when they emerged sodden and sheepish from the river. They had the last laugh, however; I had escaped with only a few stings around the face, but unfortunately I am rather susceptible to bee stings and, as a result, for the next few days resembled a cross between a kamikaze pilot and a Halloween pumpkin. I could, as one of my fellow subbies unsympathetically pointed out, have been blindfolded with dental floss.

Chopper techs attend to their helicopters in preparation for a call-out.

A fully armed Lynx taxiies out of the revetment area on its way to a Fireforce action.

We soon forgot about bees as it rapidly became apparent that the war had resumed with a vengeance. We were being called out to ‘live’ scenes virtually every day; the kill rate was soaring but it was also becoming clear that an all-out onslaught was under way and the security forces would be hard-pressed to cover the country. In the best tradition of committees, ComOps’ response to this was to panic. Sub-units were rushed at a moment’s notice to every corner of the country, only to be sent somewhere else two days later. The RLI was on indefinite deployment, and after six weeks 2 Commando produced a T-shirt with a map of Rhodesia covered in dots and the slogan: ‘Pick a spot—we’ve been there!’ For the moment however, 3 Commando was still in Darwin and making up for the previous year’s relative lack of action (and we were to break the record for the number of kills on a bush trip). One morning early in June, 12 Troop was called out to a scene near the Ruya River in the Kandeya TTL. Contact was soon made with a substantial number of terrorists and the helicopters returned to bring in 11 Troop. The target area was only about ten minutes from Darwin so we were soon dropped in to join the party. Business was continuing pretty much as usual when Corporal ‘Mad Mike’ Reynolds, in charge of a 12 Troop stick which was sweeping down a dry riverbed, spotted an AK muzzle sticking out of a small cave in the bank just as he was about to pass in front of it. After completing a spectacular double back flickflack he responded by tossing a grenade into the cave. Unfortunately, in addition to the lurking terrorist, the cave was also occupied by the mother of all bee hives. The bees took spectacular exception—for the second time and it would not be too much to say that the effect on what had hitherto been a nice, orderly, well-run contact was akin to the effect of the Big Bang on the universe. The furious horde of vengeful insects exploded out of the cave with such speed and ferocity that even though their unfortunate lodger came out virtually simultaneously, the RLI stick outside had no chance to do anything about him before they were attacked and put to ignominious flight by the bees. Within seconds the same thing happened to every human being in the area. Kip Donald had as usual been controlling proceedings like a chess master from the K-car—from up there it must have looked as though some invisible force had spun his board so that all the pieces flew chaotically to the outside. The war had quite literally become irrelevant—there were people running everywhere, taking absolutely no notice of instructions. As for the original participants in this little drama, Kip saw them sprinting

furiously in single file down a path away from the scene, the four members of 12 Troop followed by the terrorist at the back of the line, with the bees in pursuit. Perhaps we should draw a veil over this lamentable scene. It took a considerable time for normal service to be resumed, and it has to be said that our hearts were not really in it, as many of us were once more doing Japanese pumpkin impressions. It had been a very successful contact up until then, with 12 terrs accounted for, and we figured if any had escaped the bees, well, good luck to them. The unfortunate cave-dweller was captured, and SB lodged an official complaint at the JOC in the belief that his distended features were the result of being assaulted by the troopies. They had to apologize when they realized that we all looked just the same …

1 Commando at Segurança At the end of October 1976 elements of 2 Troop, 1 Commando were tasked with a 15-kilometre night walk-in to the enemy camp of Segurança in Mozambique. The camp itself was sited by the Ruya (Luia) River. The plan was for them to be in OP position on the riverbank by 0300 hours. From there they would call up artillery fire onto the camp in the form of airburst shells. (Airburst shells explode three metres above ground and have a particularly nasty and lethal effect on anyone in the vicinity of the explosion who is not dug in.) Led by Second Lieutenant MacFarlane the men set off at dusk. The walk-in became problematic when it seemed the officer had lost his way. Marshall Ross, then a 19-year-old participant, recollects: … We were walking in a big circle. I mentioned this to Derek Stokes, the CSM, who brought it to MacFarlane’s attention. The approach line was rectified but by that time we were out of water—October being the hottest month of the year. All I know is that everyone was bloody thirsty by the time we got to the river. We had received orders not to drink the river water as the SAS were supposed to have poisoned it with cholera. We drank it anyway. One of our guys, I think it was Pete Kirkpatrick, was badly dehydrated. We drank as we leopard-crawled over the shallow river. As we crossed, Frelimo opened up with RPD fire and Graham Fanner was hit in the stomach. The only other thing that comes to mind is the sound of artillery shells screaming overhead. Very nerve wracking! One never appreciated the artillery’s accuracy until

times like that. We then overran the camp and killed a good number of gooks after which we were trucked out of the area as the camp wasn’t too far from the border. I believe Graham could have survived the injury but suspect that heat fatigue swung the balance. Unfortunately, he viewed it with the sort of fatalism many Africans have and gave up the will to live. He died of his wounds on 31 October.

2 Commando in Operation Hurricane On the morning of the 6 February, 2 Commando were providing the Fireforce at Mount Darwin. They had been moved to Stacey’s Farm by Wing Commander Tol Janeke who anticipated that they would be called into action as call sign BX, a PATU stick, were on tracks of ten. A PRAW then took over from the policemen and aerial-tracked the insurgents to a very distinctive path which was picked up and followed to the valley floor. Here there was a hut and movement was seen nearby. Two RLI sticks, under Second Lieutenant Nigel Theron, with trackers were dropped here while the K-car (Flight Lieutenant Rob McGregor) hovered above, providing cover. No tracks were located. The PRAW and the Provost then talked the K-car back to the first position from where very distinctive tracks led away but then seemed to break up. Two more RLI sticks, call signs 23 and 25, also with trackers, were dropped onto tracks with the intention of following them to the hut where the original two sticks were deployed as stops. The K-car and the Gcars now returned to Stacey’s Farm, leaving the Provost (Air Lieutenant Norman ‘Bambam’ Maasdorp) as top cover. Tracks were followed and it was decided to leapfrog call signs 25, 23A and the trackers, to make up time. It was now 1530 hours. Fifteen minutes later c/s (call sign) 25 called contact. Fireforce was immediately deployed from Stacey’s. When it arrived in the contact area c/s 25, which was being mortared, reported that the insurgent flight path was down the river line. The call sign which had killed eight in the initial fire fight, estimated the group at twenty. The K-car then saw three insurgents and engaged them. They ran into thick bush on the river line where more insurgents were seen and engaged. At this time the K-car came under heavy fire from the ground. The K-car then called in the Provost to carry out a strike into the area of the K-car attack in an attempt to flush out the insurgents. The Provost carried out two attacks

with Snebs and Frantans and strikes were observed to be in the area of the target. Five dead insurgents were later found in the strike area. Meanwhile, c/s 25 had followed up and killed another two insurgents in the riverbed. Very little movement could be seen from the air and the K-car instructed G-car No. 1 to carry out dummy drops to the east and west of the river line to attempt to keep the insurgents in the area and force them toward the stop groups. Shortly after this, c/s 23 had a contact and killed one. This call sign also spotted movement in the area, which appeared to be insurgents attempting to break over the ridge line. The G-car was instructed to fire into the thick bush in the area to flush out any hidden enemy. Light was fading fast and follow-up operations continued until dark. Janeke’s report recorded: … This is a splendid example of success resulting from first-class co-operation between air and ground forces. The entire operation lasted over a period of eight hours. At no time was there any unnecessary confusion or delay. The decision to move the Fireforce with air support to Stacey’s farm was a wise one as it reduced reaction and ferry time to less than ten minutes. Flight Lieutenant McGregor, together with Air Lieutenant Maasdorp, contributed toward the professional control of operations. De-brief of the crews also highlighted the excellent work done by Second Lieutenant Nigel Theron of 2 Commando RLI, whose personal leadership and courage led to more than half of the kills. An Army recommendation for an award to this officer would be strongly supported …

Support Commando in Operation Hurricane The OC at the time was Major P. W. Armstrong. On the evening of the 19 September, two patrols, one of six, commanded by Lieutenant M. F. Webb and one of four, commanded by Lance-Corporal R. E. Wiggill, were deployed to contact the OPs in the Kungo Hills. During their walk-in from the drop-off in the north they were told by Commando HQ to return to the dropoff point as their destination had just been declared a Selous Scouts’ ‘frozen area’. They turned about and moved back, finally basing up near a kraal four hundred metres to their east. At first light they heard a number of male voices and decided to investigate. They swept 200 metres well short of the kraal and heard a lot of noise ahead. They then saw a group of insurgents moving in their direction. The enemy was too far ahead to engage effectively in the

thick mopane bush and the half-light of early dawn. The patrol then moved quickly forward in line ahead, trying to find a more advantageous contact area. As they did so they stumbled upon another group of ten insurgents already based up and, taken by surprise, the insurgents bomb-shelled. Equally surprised but ready for a fight, the patrol opened up and killed two. The enemy returned fire on the run. Fireforce was called up and the other eight were killed. The original group, estimated at 20, that the patrol had sighted and followed, had escaped. Two AKs, a 60mm mortar and six stick grenades were recovered. At first light on the morning of 19 September, Second Lieutenant R. I. Stent and six of his men were manning a pre-planned ambush position in rocky, open ground on a footpath outside a kraal in the Kandeya TTL. This was as a result of a listening patrol they had conducted the previous evening, which caused them to suspect a possible insurgent presence. At 0515 hours the patrol’s sentry, on his final watch, saw four insurgents clad in blue denims and wearing hats coming down the track. Having no time to wake the rest of the patrol he opened fire. The others leapt out of sleeping bags and joined in. Despite the surprise the enemy reacted, and retaliated with RPKs. The fire fight, however, was brief, resulting in two enemy dead. Trackers were called in to follow up on the two survivors who had fled. Their tracks were followed for eight kilometres before being lost in a large kraal complex. An RPK and an AK were handed in to SB at Bveke. In the afternoon of 4 October, B Company 1RAR initiated contact with an unknown number of insurgents in thick riverine bush in the Chimanda TTL in the Rushinga area. Fireforce was deployed to the area of the insurgents’ flight direction. Stops were put down. Contact was then made with five of the enemy who were fleeing south. All were armed and wore dark civilian clothing. Two were engaged by a G-car’s Browning and killed. The sweeping stop groups killed a further two and one escaped wounded. On 17 October, information was received from Special Branch that a large insurgent meeting was due to take place in an area of the Kandeya TTL covered in dense riverine vegetation. Fireforce was deployed to the area but nothing was seen. Armstrong, in the K-car, decided to drop Stops 1 and 3 to the east where there appeared to be good cover. As the stops were being dropped they came under fire from a group of seven insurgents clad in blue denim, who then broke cover and ran along the river line. Stop 8 was dropped alongside Stops 1 and 3 while Stop 2 was

dropped to the north. With the stop groups sweeping north and south respectively and supported by the K-car and G-cars, all seven insurgents were eliminated. Two days later, in the Chesa Purchase Land, a call sign of C Company 1RAR, conducting a clandestine follow-up, sighted eight insurgents who appeared to be based up in a riverbed. Support Commando deployed to the area as Fireforce. Stops were positioned to the north and south of the river line as sweeps. Further stops were placed on the high ground to the west. During the sweep and in the ensuing fire fight Lance-Corporal Beech notably exposed himself to enemy fire when personally attacking and killing two of the insurgents. A further two were killed and two wounded—one of whom died later. Due to a stoppage the K-car’s cannon was unable to engage the remaining two who were fleeing westward through the gap between the stop groups. The G-car came over and opened up with its Brownings but failed to score a hit. Both fugitives escaped. Five AKs were recovered along with a 60mm mortar and a few bombs and handed in to Special Branch Rushinga. Beech was awarded the Military Forces Commendation (Operational). In the late afternoon of 21 October a group of about eight insurgents was sighted by a BSAP Support Unit convoy en route from Mount Darwin to Rusambo. Armstrong’s men were deployed to the scene as Fireforce but nothing was seen. Looking west, Armstrong detected what he thought was a likely escape route two kilometres away. He accordingly decided to drop his stops near a river line and sweep between two features of high ground. As the troops were being dropped insurgents were seen running and in the following ground and air action five were killed and one captured-wounded. Two managed to escape and the fading light precluded a follow-up. At mid-morning on 24 October an OP of the BSAP Support Unit, c/s MV4, in the Mudzi TTL sighted a group of over 80 insurgents in thickly wooded country along a river. An immediate air strike by Lynx, Hunter and Canberra aircraft was put in. This was followed some 15 minutes later by a joint deployment of Fireforce Mtoko and Mount Darwin. These were later joined by Fireforce Grand Reef. By the time the Fireforces had arrived the insurgents had bomb-shelled. Armstrong, K-car commander Mount Darwin, took command of the ground action, assisted by K-car commander Mtoko, Major Jerry Strong and K-car commander Grand Reef Major A. J. Forbes. Stops were positioned to the north, east and west of the river and began to sweep. In the subsequent series of fire fights 18 insurgents were killed and

two captured-wounded. An African woman civilian was killed in cross-fire. During the contacts Sergeant Jock McKelvie, through his personal example and courage, led his men forward in an extremely aggressive manner, enabling them to account for 15 of the kills. Armstrong, who had handled a difficult battle very successfully, commended McKelvie’s conduct. It transpired later that 40 of the insurgents had left the area by the time the air strike went in. Furthermore, the time delay between the air strike and the arrival of Fireforce meant that many of the enemy made good their escape. An assortment of AKs and SKSs were recovered and handed in to BSAP Elim Mission. Following a fleeting contact between a PATU stick and an unknown number of insurgents in the Madziwa TTL on the afternoon of 8 November, Fireforce was called out. Trackers were leapfrogged to a road where tracks were located some four kilometres from the original contact area. Armstrong continued the leapfrogging tactic for another three kilometres when troops in one of the G-cars spotted some insurgents. Stops 1 and 2 were dropped into the area and, sweeping westward along the insurgents’ flight path, caught up with two of them, killing one and wounding and capturing the other. Stop 3 was dropped farther north and began sweeping south when they made contact with a group of four insurgents who put up a very heavy resistance, having decided on a ‘last stand’. A fierce fire fight took place during which all four were killed and Lance-Corporal J. D. Vijver was wounded. No other insurgents were found and at last light Fireforce was uplifted, leaving PATU in the contact area in ambush positions. Later that night two insurgents, who had remained concealed in the very thick jesse bush, broke out and made a successful escape bid during which they killed a member of the security force ambushing party. On the very next day a patrol of B Company IRR (1st Battalion The Rhodesia Regiment—a white Territorial unit) had been following tracks of over 30 insurgents who had crossed into the country from Mozambique west of Mukumbura. The tracks headed south and the patrol followed them for six kilometres. Fireforce was then deployed with Armstrong in the Lynx. Using two of his commando members and two trackers, c/s 4T, he carried out three leapfrogs covering over 20 kilometres. The third leapfrog dropped the four men almost within spitting distance of a group of 33 insurgents. The four men, aided by the K-car, then had an intense fire fight with the insurgents who spread out and were putting down heavy fire onto both the ground troops and

the K-car. A G-car then reinforced c/s 4T by dropping Stop 2 alongside. Other stops were dropped to cut off the enemy. C/s 4T, led by Sergeant J. McKelvie, and Stop 2 began to sweep southward over a feature of high ground where they killed one insurgent. When they reached the streambed they turned and swept eastward, engaging and killing ten insurgents, all of whom put up a heavy resistance. Without breaking stride and with very limited air support as the K-car had run out of ammunition, they continued following the river line as it curved southward. Meanwhile the 1RR stop group deployed near the junction of the streambed and the river killed a further three who ran into them. Another was killed by the Sparrow (tracker) stop group as he veered eastward. In a further series of fire fights c/s 4T and Stop 2 killed eight more, including the RPD gunner, but their accompanying Wildlife Department tracker, N. Gregory, was shot through the left side by the last remaining insurgent. During the fighting advance of c/s 4T and Stop 2, McKelvie’s conduct was exemplary. Troopers J. B. Hyde and Buck also performed very well. It was now pitch dark with pouring rain making a casevac for the wounded Gregory impossible until the moon rose. Unfortunately he died from his wounds. At first light the troops counted 23 dead insurgents. All were dressed in new camouflage/plain grey uniforms. Ten had escaped, one of whom was later captured and revealed that the troops had killed a detachment commander and two section commanders. Only one of the group’s hierarchy had escaped—a section commander wounded above the knee. The group was a demolition squad who were headed for the Sinoia area. McKelvie, Hyde and Buck were all recommended for gallantry awards. (McKelvie was awarded the Silver Cross on the 29 July 1977 and Trooper J. B. Hyde was awarded the Bronze Cross at the same time.) In the early morning of 28 November a patrol led by Sergeant J. McKelvie was following tracks near Chimimba in the Mount Darwin area. They were moving along a river line in fairly open country when they were ambushed by approximately eight insurgents. The enemy initially opened up with an RPD, followed immediately by AK fire from close range. Fortunately their marksmanship was appalling as not a single member of the patrol was hit. The troops reacted swiftly and returned fire, using their 60mm mortar, their MAG and FNs. They killed two insurgents in the initial fire fight. The enemy’s overall battle drills were poor and the remaining six turned and fled. They managed to get away but two of them were seen to be hit by the

continuing fire from the troops. A follow-up was initiated with the assistance of the K-car and Lynx but spoor was quickly lost due to bush fires. On the night of 5 December, a number of insurgents walked into an ambush manned by men of Support Commando under Corporal K. P. Locke in the western Kandeya TTL. One insurgent was wounded and the others escaped. At first light and in drizzling rain the troops began to sweep the thickly wooded area where the insurgents might have hidden. As the men swept northward they suddenly came under fire, seemingly from one insurgent in a very well-concealed position. Fireforce was called in and in the K-car Armstrong ordered Locke to sweep forward. As he and his men did so the hidden insurgent waited until the troops were at very close range and then opened fire on them. Keith Locke died instantly and communication with him was therefore lost. Lance-Corporal J. Fourie then came forward in an attempt to locate Locke. As he did so the insurgent fired and hit him. Fourie fell, seriously wounded. He remained exceptionally cool, however, and retaliated by hurling two grenades into the area of the insurgent’s fire. Unable to use his rifle due to his severe injuries he had the presence of mind to leave it pointing in the direction of the enemy’s position before crawling back to be casevaced. Two stops were then ordered to sweep toward the insurgent’s position from the north. Once they reached the position the man, obviously a hard-core insurgent who had decided to make a ‘last-ditch stand’, was flushed out and killed. Fourie was taken to Mount Darwin by helicopter and then on to Salisbury by fixed-wing. He was recommended for a gallantry award and was awarded the Bronze Cross on 29 July 1977. At 1400 hours on Boxing Day a police reserve call sign had a fleeting contact with an estimated five insurgents in the thick bush area of the Mazarabani TTL (Centenary area). Fireforce was called up and, arriving in the area, dropped off four stops on the west of a river line. Another stop was placed farther west along a streambed. Sweeping westward, the two central stops moved through a re-entrant where they contacted the insurgents and killed two. The other three ran over the side of the feature and fled eastward where one of them was shot dead near the river line by one of the stops. The remaining two escaped. Following information that a group of about eight insurgents was basing up on a farm in the Chesa APL, Fireforce was deployed to the area on the afternoon of 30 December. Stops had been pre-positioned by road around the base camp area. Realizing the game was up the insurgents moved out of the

base in a hurry but were observed as they tried to sneak through the stop group gap. Fireforce dropped its sticks which began to sweep north. The insurgents split up into three groups. One group of three was spotted and engaged by the Lynx and the K-car and was finally accounted for by the ground troops. Two others veered off and took cover close to the road. They were detected and the K-car killed one and the stop killed the other. Three managed to escape east.

3 Commando in Operation Thrasher On the 4 May, Selous Scouts c/s 76, manning an OP in the Makoni District north of Headlands spotted a group of 22 insurgents resting up on the southern end of a thickly wooded feature where it projected into a fork of the Mudzoro River. There was a village footpath running north–south along the ridge which connected to a nearby kraal north of the position. The surrounding area was fairly open with long grass and irrigated fields. The OP called up Fireforce, which consisted of two sticks from 3 Commando, three sticks from B Company 1RAR and four sticks from 3 (Indep) Company, The Rhodesia Regiment (school-leavers undergoing national service). Captain Chris ‘Kip’ Donald (3 Commando) devised a solid plan of attack which, unfortunately, was soon discarded when Fireforce arrived at the incorrect grid reference. The talk-on of Fireforce over the corrected target area by the OP also proved difficult—mortifying for the Selous Scouts operators who could see all their hard work coming to nothing as they looked on in helpless frustration when the insurgents, now aware of the approaching aircraft, bomb-shelled. Donald’s plan now turned into a search and sweep exercise. He placed his stop groups around the feature. During the drop the Cyclone 7s (helicopters) all came under fire, which continued as they got airborne. The K-car itself was hit, sustaining damage to the electrical device on the 20mm cannon. Most of the occupants of the camp used the ensuing delay to exfiltrate the area, doing it so effectively that at no time were any of them seen by the orbiting helicopters. The stop groups began their sweep with Stop 9 in the thick of the action as they swept the track on the ridge. Three insurgents had remained in the area. All three used the normal tactic of lying low until the last minute before opening up. It proved to no avail and Stop 9, using their white phosphorus riflegrenades to good effect, killed all three. The Selous Scouts, for their part,

managed to capture four of the fugitives. Two AKs, one SKS and five stick grenades were recovered, along with ten packs and handed in to SB Inyanga. The loss of the element of surprise caused by the misreading of the grid reference and the difficult talk-on was commented on at the debrief by both the unit and brigade commanders. Black OP operators were sometimes poor English speakers, which created confusion during the talk-on. Coupled with this were the tactics being developed by the insurgents to evade the “death from the sky” as one captured insurgent described the Fireforce whirlwind. One simple tactic was to head directly for the position where an Alouette had disgorged its troops, on the assumption that the troops had spread out and there was as such little likelihood of soldiers still being in the same position as the LZ. At first light on the morning of 18 August, a PATU c/s sprung an ambush on a group of eleven insurgents in the Makoni TTL (east of Inyazura), killing one. Instead of fleeing the insurgents returned fire and pinned down the call sign. The policemen called up Fireforce. Two K-cars and three G-cars were deployed with Major Jerry Strong as Fireforce commander. As soon as the choppers arrived overhead the insurgents broke off their attack and scattered. The K-car spotted eight and engaged them with the 20mm cannon. Seven fell and the eighth ran into a hut for cover. Unfortunately for him a 20mm shell set the thatch on fire and he perished. The stops deployed around the contact area began to sweep and Stop 2 engaged the outstanding two who had hidden on a small kopje near the main contact area. These two, concealed in some boulders, had kept themselves busy, firing at the K-car each time it passed overhead. The G-car’s twin Brownings proved oddly ineffectual as the ground was very hard with no shrapnel effect. Both insurgents proved very aggressive and refused to surrender. Their stubbornness cost them their lives. Ten weapons, a mix of AKs and SKSs, were recovered and handed in to SB Mutasa. Strong commented: ‘A very simple contact with the ters caught unaware and in the open. A Fireforce commander’s dream. Stops performed well—as expected.’ Also commenting on the action, Lieutenant-Colonel P. H. Browne, CO 4th Batt, wrote: ‘A very slick deployment by Air Force and Army. The Bailiff (police) call sign on the ground was able to hold the fire fight, enabling Fireforce to get overhead and catch the terrs unaware. All SF performed very well.’

In the late afternoon of 7 November an Army OP in the Mutema TTL (southwest of Birchenough Bridge) sighted three insurgents and called up Fireforce (12 Troop, 3 Commando). Due to trooping commitments at the time the K-car was initially deployed alone. When it arrived overhead with Lieutenant Mark Adams as commander, it came under very heavy fire and sustained four hits. For the next 15 minutes, until the arrival of the G-cars, it busied itself engaging targets of opportunity. By last light three stops had been dropped. Stop 2 was led by the newly promoted Canadian-born LanceCorporal Matt Lamb. The following account of Stop 2’s action is by David Hughes, ex-3 Commando: … Lance-Corporal Lamb’s stick landed, formed up their sweep line and advanced to contact with Stop 1 (Sergeant Derrick Taylor) as ambushing/blocking stop ahead. In line abreast, Stop 2 moved carefully northward along the banks of a dry creek bed. Trooper Soares, an 18-yearold national serviceman of Portuguese background, carried the MAG alongside the west bank of a waist-deep gully. To his left, maintaining proper spacing and carrying an FN rifle, stalked Trooper Cornelius Olivier, a 20year-old regular. Olivier had recently completed his NCO course at Gwelo’s School of Infantry and was awaiting promotion to lance-corporal. Lamb had the stick’s radio on his back and moved forward with his rifle at the ready in anticipation of battle. On his right was Trooper Tony Rok, a capable Australian who had served with the 8th Battalion The Royal Australian Regiment in Vietnam where he had been blown up in a landmine incident. As the sun began to set Stop 2 encountered a widening of the riverbed. A crash of fire drove the stop to ground. Calling for covering fire Lamb and Rok skirmished forward and Soares loosed off a belt of 7.62 from the MAG. A shadowy figure suddenly darted between Lamb and the streambed. From a distance of about 16 paces one of the troopers levelled his FN instinctively at the fleeting target and fired. Rok heard the distinctive ‘thump’ of the FN. Matt Lamb stumbled and fell, mortally wounded by the errant shots—two rounds having smashed through his chest with one exiting his back, disabling the radio he carried … Stop 1 and Stop 2 joined up and all call signs remained in ambush positions for the night, Lamb’s comrades remaining alongside his lifeless body through the night. Later that night a casevac for Lamb was effected—the G-car came into land just after Stop 1 had sprung its ambush and remained on the ground for about five minutes while Lance-Corporal Lamb was placed on

board. There were intermittent exchanges of fire in the area of Stop 1’s ambush position. Lamb’s body was taken to Chipinga hospital. At dawn, with the K-car unserviceable, Adams came overhead in a G-car. The helicopter came under fire from a wounded insurgent in the riverbed. The G-car came over and the MAG gunner shot and killed the terr. A Bailiff Acorn (SB) detail was dropped alongside Stop 1 and Stop 2 received a replacement radio. Sweeping through the ambush area the troops found four dead insurgents and two dead female civilians. Another dead insurgent was found near the scene of Stop 2’s initial contact. A total of six insurgents had been killed and an estimated six to eight had escaped. Fireforce was withdrawn, being replaced in the area by a platoon from 10RR (10th Battalion The Rhodesia Regiment—a Territorial unit). In the afternoon of 28 November, Fireforce was called out to the Makoni TTL. The operation is described by 14 Troop’s Second Lieutenant Gordon ‘Jug’ Thornton: … Op Thrasher had a Fireforce complement of two K-cars and four G-cars. These were split into two. One K-car and one G-car at Grand Reef and a K-car and three G-cars at Mutasa DC (District Commissioner) camp. Major Strong was in charge of the Mutasa Fireforce and I was in charge of the one at Grand Reef. Sub-JOC Mtoko requested one K-car and one G-car for a contact in their area. Major Strong and one G-car of his were sent by JOC Thrasher and my K-car plus the remaining two Gcars at Mutasa were sent to the Selous Scouts Tac HQ for a stand-by. At 1440 hours, Selous Scouts c/s 74B reported the sighting of very suspicious movement by locals, indicating that feeding of terrs was in progress. The Fireforce was deployed. C/s 74B guided the K-car overhead and a smoke grenade was dropped to establish the exact area. On the west, south and east of the target were large hills. Just after the smoke hit the ground the K-car spotted two terrs running. They were fired on but escaped into a thick river line. Stops 1, 2 and 3 were dropped immediately and the G-car went to collect more stops. A second wave with extra fuel and 20mm cannon ammo had been deployed by vehicle. Stops 1, 2 and 3 commenced their sweep tasks. Stops 4, 5 and 6 arrived and were dropped. The G-car then did a few dummy drops and went on to a nearby hilltop to wait. By this time the Lynx was overhead as well. Stop 3 initially went into a kraal and found the locals throwing away large quantities of food. From there Stop 3 went into the river line where the two terrs had been seen. In the space of about 250 to 300 metres they had three

contacts. In the first they shot at two running persons, one of whom was definitely a terr, the other an African woman. She was killed and the terr ran away, wounded, dropping his AK near her. About 100 metres farther on Stop 3 shot at another fleeing person who was killed. This tragically turned out to be a child (about ten years old). At this time Stop 2 had swept a saddle and moved down into the same river line but, 400 metres ahead of Stop 3, they were instructed to face north i.e. toward Stop 3 and put up a stop line. As they moved about 20 to 40 metres to a good position they came across three terrs who had been watching for Stop 3. Stop 2 surprised them and dealt with them swiftly and effectively. The time was about 1630 hours at this stage. About 15 minutes later, Stop 3, now about 100 metres away, came across an African man who was hiding. On being seen he was mistakenly shot and wounded. An African woman was also found, having been wounded by the K-car. These two civilians were casevaced to Umtali hospital. Sadly, the man later died. At about 1650 hours, Stop 5 found the terr camp, estimated for ten to 15 persons. There were nine packs found. From here on, sweeping the area continued till last light. All stops except Stop 3 remained in ambush positions. All bodies and kit and equipment were flown out at last light and handed to Detective Inspector B. Rogers. The next morning, final sweeping was done and all stops were flown out of the area …

Battle of ‘Hill 31’ At dawn on 15 November, c/s 81A of K Company 10RR, operating in the Mutasa North TTL (south of Honde Mission), sighted approximately 30 to 40 persons moving in single file on the western side of a steep broken feature with numerous gullies and covered in dense jesse bush. There was a kraal to the north. Fireforce was called up, Captain Chris ‘Kip’ Donald in the K-car. Sticks were dropped to the west of the target area and four 4th Batt Sparrows (trackers) led by Sergeant Laurie Ryan were dropped alongside c/s 81A and began to follow tracks on a footpath heading south. As they advanced they contacted two insurgents and killed both. Moving on and still on the track, they came around the feature and hit the main insurgent group. A series of contacts, all at extremely close range, began to take place as sweeping sticks moved in. The mortar team from Support Company 1RAR was also called in. Trooper F. D. da Costa (recently arrived from Portugal), who was part of a sweep line, was killed by an insurgent who had been flushed out and had

fired on the run. Da Costa’s body was casevaced to Ruda. The K-car’s 20mm cannon proved extremely effective. All call signs were performing well, Trooper Pete Garnett as OC Stop 3 being particularly aggressive (Donald recommended him for an award and he was awarded a Military Forces Commendation (Operational) for his conduct). Two RAR privates, Philip Chagwiza and Chikoto Saxon, while on their way to the contact area in a Gcar, were wounded by small-arms fire. Both were casevaced to Ruda. Rifleman Grobler received minor injuries and was also casevaced. The enemy had now settled themselves in the rocky outcrops on the western side of the kopje from where they continued to direct most of their small-arms fire at the helicopters. One RPG rocket, fired at a troop-carrying G-car, exploded a mere 20 metres behind it. Another helicopter was forced to land because of damage caused by small-arms fire. The sweeping stops closed with the insurgents and the fire fights took place at close range. The battle had gone on through the day, by the end of which 31 insurgents had been killed and one captured (by Lieutenant Rod Smith’s stick). An unknown number had escaped. Twenty-one AKs, 11SKSs, one RPD, one RPG (with 21 rockets) 19 boxes of ammo and a landmine were recovered and handed in to SB Ruda. Beryl Salt on the Air Force’s participation: …The first signs of an enemy build-up came early on the morning of 15 November, when ground forces reported unusual activity in the valley. Flight Lieutenant Tudor Thomas, the senior pilot at Ruda, the police base in the Honde Valley about 55 kilometres north of Umtali, was called on for support. The four helicopters were crewed by Flight Lieutenant Chris Wentworth and Sergeant Tony Merber; Flight Lieutenant Tudor Thomas and Sergeant Brian Warren; Flight Lieutenant Trevor Baynham and Flight Sergeant Ted Holland; and Air Sub-Lieutenant Nick Meikle and Sergeant Hans Steyn. The helicopters with RLI, RR and RAR sticks were quickly deployed and the first contact came about at 0645 hours on the western face of a kopje. The crews came under fire as soon as they flew into the contact area and were under sporadic fire throughout most of the day. Despite the difficult and dangerous flying conditions with early morning cloud, they worked steadily, trooping men and re-supplying ammunition. During the day, vital supplies of ammunition and fuel had to be ferried into Ruda. During the 12-hour battle, the four helicopters spent a total of 14 hours in the air. ‘It was good to be in on it’, said Flight Lieutenant Tudor Thomas. A fixed-wing aircraft, piloted by Squadron Leader Dag Jones, also took part in

the fight and put in several effective strikes on the enemy. ‘Afterwards, when we found out that the total killed was 31, the morale of the pilots and technicians was high,’ said Dag … Chris co*cks adds: … We christened it ‘Hill 31’, a bit like the Yanks in Vietnam. Some called it the Battle of the Honde Valley. At the time, it was the biggest internal kill of the war and it was quite something to have been involved in. I remember how awed I was by Kip Donald’s control of the battle. He was controlling a good couple of hundred troops—RLI, RAR and TF (including Laurie Ryan’s formidable 4th Batt trackers), all spread out over several square kilometers, on all sides of the mountain. (And a mountain it was, not a kopje! We climbed up and down the bloody thing several times and it was pretty damned sheer.) I got my first confirmed kill here, fairly innocuous, but for me it was a life-changing event. I was in Lieutenant Roddy Smith’s stick. Humphrey van der Merwe was the MAG gunner and Peter McDonald, a new rookie from Canada, was the other rifleman. We were in first wave (Stop 1) and got dropped at the foot of the gomo around 0700 hours. We hooked up with Laurie Ryan’s sticks, who’d just had the initial contact and were waiting for us. They all had beards and looked fearsome, but were good guys and were happy to see us. (We regarded the 4th Batt trackers as some of the best in the Army. Sadly Laurie Ryan was killed in a hunting accident shortly after the war.) Kip Donald then sent them up the path leading to the top of the mountain and directed our stick to sweep around the southwest of the base of the mountain and then straight up to the top, covering all the likely re-entrants the gooks might try and escape through. Roddy was like a bitch on heat, itching to get into the action and at times was literally bounding up the slopes—thickly vegetated, rocky and treacherous as they were. We had a series of running contacts all the way to the top. Humphrey nailed a couple of gooks scrambling down a gully with his MAG. This was Pete McDonald’s first contact and he was wide-eyed and scared, but hung in there. He was quite a portly guy and was struggling to keep up with our intrepid leader. Around midday we finally got to the top of the mountain. To my surprise, we came across a TF stick huddled in some rocks. Where in the hell had they come from? They were old guys, scared to death and clearly didn’t want to be there. Their relief on seeing us was immeasurable and within minutes they’d packed up and were gone, down the mountain. We took over their position near the summit and spread out into all-round defence and waited. I

was next to Humphrey looking out from some thick bush into a clearing that was the summit. No wonder the TF guys were so terrified. There were gook bodies lying all over the place, probably taken out by the K-car—the TF guys would have been pretty close to where the 20mm rounds were striking. I figured we’d climbed all the way to the top for nothing as it appeared business had been taken care of, when literally minutes later a gook strolled into view in the middle of the clearing, carrying an AK in each hand at the trail. About 40 metres away, he appeared to be in a daze and was walking slowly, without making any effort to take cover. He looked shell-shocked. I raised my rifle, in spite of Humphrey’s urgent plea not to shoot as he thought he was an RAR soldier. I was convinced he was a gook, so took careful aim, at his chest as we’d been taught, as the chest made the largest target. I squeezed the trigger, one shot, and the gook dropped like a stone. No mess, no fuss. Humphrey was in a terrible state, convinced I’d shot an RAR soldier. We got up and warily went forward to inspect my handiwork. My chest shot had entered the man’s forehead neatly between the eyes. My instinct had been right, the man was a terr. Roddy came bounding forward to see what had happened and at that moment, the sh*t hit the fan with volleys of AK firing coming our way from slightly down the slope. My first kill moved into the realms of history as we hit the ground and skirmished for cover. In seconds the K-car was overhead, blasting away into the bushes not metres in front of us. It was terrifying and comforting all at the same time. Then all went quiet and we crept forward to clear the area. That’s when we got the capture. A gook was hiding under a bush and he’d been hit in the legs and couldn’t move. He looked up at me with terror on his face. He seemed very young. He tried to raise his arms and was gasping, “Surrender … surrender.” His eyes looked directly into mine, imploringly, as I raised my rifle to finish him off. I mean, what were we going to do with him? But I was shaking and I pulled the shot. He screamed as the bullet winged him, a flesh wound above his ear. I stopped, stunned, as Roddy approached. I think he realized this guy deserved to live, if there’s such a thing. (In war, who deserves to live and who deserves to die? Isn’t it all one big lotto?) Roddy and I stooped down and gingerly grabbed the guy under his arms and managed to drag him onto the path. He was crying and shivering uncontrollably. We bandaged his legs as best we could and then gave him a

cigarette which seemed to calm him down. I asked him his name and he said it was Cuthbert. The next problem was how to evacuate him. There was no LZ on the summit, so a chopper came and dropped a stretcher—that’s how we’d get him down—carrying him. The next few hours were a surreal nightmare as we slithered and slid down the slopes, half-dragging, half-carrying our captured charge. And every few dozen paces or so, Roddy Smith on point would make contact with a guerrilla or two hiding in the bush and engage in contact. The rest of us were too tired to care. As dusk enveloped us we came to the original LZ where we’d been dropped 12 hours before. The capture was casevaced and we were uplifted back to our base above the Mtarazi Falls. That night we celebrated our victory around the campfire and got very drunk. I heard later that Cuthbert recovered, was tried and received a life sentence. (There you go—still the ‘police action’ mentality in place.) I was secretly pleased I hadn’t killed him. We went back the next day to sweep the area again and recover all the gook bodies, a hideous task as many of the corpses had been dead for over 24 hours and were lodged in inaccessible nooks and crannies all over the gomo. By evening, arranged neatly in a row at the foot of the mountain near a school, were 31 bodies, all in various stages of disrepair, dismemberment and decomposition. It was a gruesome sight. We’d lost one man—Trooper Francisco da Costa from my troop, 11 Troop. He was a gentle man and had joined up in the RLI because he couldn’t get a job in his native Portugal. ‘Hill 31’ was something of a watershed in terms of guerrilla infiltrations. From here on it would become a regular occurrence to encounter groups of 50 or more … Beryl Salt concurs: … The size of the gangs crossing the border was now very much larger and in the middle of November, a group of about 100 crossed from Mozambique. On Wednesday 24 November at 1100 hours, a contact occurred with security forces. Acting on information from a call sign, a stick of four soldiers entered the area under cover of darkness. They were moving into position in thick bush when they heard movement. It was a group of 60 ZANLA men. The patrol went to ground and there was a similar reaction from the terrorists. The security patrol knowing they were in a curfew area, opened fire first. The group returned fire and beat a retreat dropping their equipment as they ran. The patrol gave chase. Tudor Thomas who was once again at the scene said, ‘We picked them up quite easily and

dropped troops into the area.’ He also reported that captured equipment had included anti-aircraft guns. ‘We haven’t lost any planes,’ he said. ‘They don’t seem to be very effective at using their guns.’ This battle, which included the Army, the Air Force and elements of the police force continued for a week, taking place in rugged, hilly country about 20 kilometres from the border in the Inyanga North area close to Avila Mission …

The Lundi River in the dry season in the southeastern Lowveld area of Op Repulse. In the background are the Chilojo Cliffs, one of the few landmarks in an otherwise featureless landscape—the obvious and only choice for the relay station. Still, radio communications in the Lowveld were poor and at times nonexistent.

A one-man ‘Pookie’—landmine-clearing vehicle. Developed by the ingenious Rhodesian Engineers from what was once a VW ‘Beetle’, this amazing little vehicle was to prove a resounding success, particularly at the head of a convoy. However, it couldn’t withstand a direct detonation from a boosted landmine and several Engineer drivers lost their lives as a result.

The inimitable Zilla strikes a militant pose. Zilla, a renowned stripper from Salisbury, entertained the troops royally at the various Fireforce bases, away from the prying eyes of the notoriously conservative, prudish Rhodesian censors.

L/Cpl Graham Hutley became the 3 Commando armourer after taking a load of shrapnel in the face during the Battle of ‘Hill 31’.

Classical War training.

Ian Smith visits 3 Commando at Grand Reef, 1976. Here Troopers Rob Scott and Mark Creighton demonstrate to him the intricacies of an RPG-2 rocket launcher.

2 Commando in Operation Thrasher On the 25 August, 2 Commando was the Fireforce at Grand Reef. At 1500 hours, they were called up by a Mantle (PATU) c/s D3 to a sighting of eight insurgents near the Nyantanda River in the Makoni TTL. Major John Dawson, Fireforce commander, recorded: … On arriving at the locstat (coded map reference) Stop 1 (Second Lieutenant G. Murdoch) was dropped with the Mantle call sign to get a brief sitrep (situation report). D3 had been following tracks for eight terrorists and at about 1500 hours they located a large resting place. While searching the camp they sighted a number of terrorists some distance to their east in a village. Consequently they decided to call Fireforce. While getting this sitrep, the Cyclone 4 (Lynx), c/s P4, spotted two terrorists running into a gum-tree thicket. C/s Stop 3 (Corporal Travers) was dropped in the area. Stop 1 was uplifted and dropped with Stop 3 and both call signs started to sweep toward the gums. As Stop 3 entered the gums they came under fire from a rocky cliff that formed the river

bank—which was to their right and behind them. They turned and located two terrorists and returned fire, wounding one in the initial fire fight. This man crossed the river and was later killed by the K-car. Stop 1 doubled round, and took up a stop position in an effort to prevent any escapes. From the cliff they came under fire which they effectively returned and saw a terrorist go down. Stop 3 directed the K-car and Cyclone 4 on to the target and 20mm and Frantan were employed respectively. When Stop 3 cleared the position they found the terrorist dead. Stop 1 and Stop 3 joined up and began clearing the rocky outcrop when the K-car spotted a terrorist running north of the position. They opened fire. Stop 1 also fired in the general direction. Cyclone 4 then put in a rocket strike. Stops 1 and 3 resumed their sweep northward. When approximately 20 metres from a belt of thick jesse bush (the strike area) they came under smallarms fire. Fire was returned. The K-car was called over and under its covering fire both stops assaulted the position where they found two dead terrorists … Four AKs, a number of stick grenades and some documents were found and handed in to SB Rusape. (Dawson fails to make mention of any escapees despite the fact that the PATU c/s had originally reported sighting eight. He states that there were no escapees. One assumes that the mix-up occurred when the PATU stick sighted only four terrorists when on tracks for eight.) Dawson and Murdoch’s men were back in action two days later when they responded to another PATU call-up. PATU c/s V5 had located an insurgent resting place in the Chiduku TTL. Interrogating the locals they established that a group of eight insurgents had been in occupation but had fled when they saw the policemen approaching. Stop 1, led by Murdoch, was dropped along with c/s V5 on the flight path and began to follow up. Progress was slow as the ground was very rocky. Also, the tracks led through a narrow gorge, perfect for a possible enemy ambush, which had to be cleared before the advance could be resumed. Dawson takes up the account: … Just on last light, about 800 metres from where the follow-up had started tracks suddenly swung east along the side of the feature. Then, just as the follow-up group began to clear the steep, sloping, rocky outcrop a stick grenade was thrown at them from the top of the slope from behind large rock cover. K-car and Cyclone 4 (Lynx) were brought overhead immediately and as they arrived the terrorists opened fire on them, using heavy small-arms fire and an RPG rocket launcher. The K-car

put down 20mm fire and the Cyclone 4 put in a Frantan strike. One terrorist was killed by the K-car in this initial engagement. Light was fading quickly and the exact location of the remaining terrorists was unknown. Stop 3 (Ronnie Travers) was then dropped right in the contact area, while the terrorists were still firing at the helicopters. They carried out an immediate assault and killed two terrorists who were standing almost in the open, concentrating on firing at the K-car … It was now dark and the contact had been broken off. The choppers returned to Grand Reef, leaving the call signs in the contact area in ambush positions. The stops set up a claymore along the footpath and waited. At 2000 hours someone was heard coming along the path and when it was judged that he was close enough the claymore was detonated and the ambush sprung. Small-arms and 61mm mortar fire was returned from the southern section of the gorge, indicating the presence of more insurgents. The contact was then broken off. Two hours later the insurgents returned and fired an RPG rocket at the ambush position and then fled. At first light, blood spoor was found heading north down the gorge. A pair of blood-stained trousers was found but no sign of the wounded man. Tracks for the outstanding four insurgents were found south of the ambush position. All tracks were subsequently lost. At mid-morning on 10 September a call sign of F Company 4RR (an Umtali-based Territorial battalion) reported the presence of 12 insurgents near a river in the Muromo TTL, east of the main road and halfway between Umtali and Birchenough Bridge. Fireforce, consisting of one K-car, one Gcar and the Lynx soon arrived overhead. The G-car spotted insurgents hiding next to the river and opened up on them. The K-car came up and took over as the G-car dropped Stop 1, Lieutenant Joe du Plooy and his three men, south of the enemy position. The stop began to sweep north. Meanwhile three insurgents broke cover and ran in a southwesterly direction. The K-car followed them and killed all three. Stop 1, sweeping upstream, initiated a series of contacts with insurgents hidden in the rocks. The insurgents stuck to the rocks for cover and waited until they heard du Plooy issuing orders, whereupon they lept out from behind their cover and engaged the stop group with fierce automatic rifle fire. Six of them were killed by the stop under covering fire from the MAG. A call sign from 4RR’s F Company was dropped north of the contact area and swept south, clearing the area. A further sweep was done of the contact area and a wounded insurgent was

found hiding in the reeds. He was captured and casevaced, but not before giving out that two other insurgents, one wounded in the leg, had managed to break out behind Stop 1 during the contact and had escaped downriver in a southern direction. Du Plooy commented in his report: ‘All three members of my stick were ENS (national servicemen) who had never been in a contact before and did well with very accurate fire, even though they were under heavy fire at times.’ Dawson wrote: ‘The contact itself, however, was fought in difficult terrain. The aggressive manner in which the terrs were assaulted by a single stick took them completely by surprise.’

A 3 Commando stick stops for a smoke break in the lee of a hut.

Theo Nel inspects a permanent-looking ZIPRA bunker constructed from corrugated iron in the Op Tangent area.

A kraal burns—the scene of a contact between security forces and ZIPRA guerrillas.

A Lynx puts in a Frantan strike on a guerrilla camp situated in the dense foliage of a riverbank. Frantan, the Rhodesian equivalent of napalm, is an abbreviation of the term ‘frangible tank’. Also cynically known as ‘fry and tan’ by others.

The first four members of the RLI to be awarded their wings, November 1976. The honour was bestowed on 1 Commando. From left: Knobby Clarke, Stu Taylor, Lt.-Col. P. S. Rich (CO 1RLI), Mike Ferguson and Mick Walters (who always wore a British combat smock).

On 11 October, Trooper ‘Bob’ Hope was killed. Simon Godley recalls his unfortunate death: … Bob was a tall, gangly, fair-haired fellow and appeared a little absent-minded. He was in 9 Troop, which we used to call F Troop because it was a newly formed troop without the history of the others, so he kind of fitted the F Troop genre. He was killed in a G-car while being choppered to a scene in the Chipinga area. I remember that the whole thing was unlucky for Bob every which way—he became a last-minute stick replacement or he swapped seats in the chopper, something like that. Then some gooks took a few potshots at the Alouette (they were on their way to the scene at some height). A couple of rounds went through the chopper, killing Bob … On 27 December, SB gleaned intelligence from an informer of the whereabouts of an insurgent base camp for ten to 12 in the Maranke TTL. Fireforce was deployed with the informer on board one of the two K-cars. He pointed out the camp, which was in an area of large, flat granite rock surrounded by rocky outcrops and thickly covered with anthills. The K-car

marked the target area with smoke. It then opened fire on the target area, which caused a number of insurgents to break cover and run. Stops were positioned and began sweeping toward the camp area. Stop 2 was tasked with sweeping the actual camp area. When about 100 metres away, they made contact with the four camp sentries. In the ensuing fire fight three of them were killed. The stop swept on and came under fire emanating from a number of shelters covered in plastic tarpaulins. The insurgents in these shelters were surrounded by civilians. Stop 2 and the K-car attacked the shelters, killing one insurgent and a large number of civilians, who were caught between the troops and the insurgents. Four insurgents, who were using the civilians as cover, shot several of them when they broke and ran in an attempt to get out of the way. Stop 3 in the meanwhile had been directed to a rocky outcrop where insurgents had been seen. They flushed one out and killed him. Another was captured-wounded. Rifleman P. Methuen, the stop’s MAG gunner, was wounded in the engagement and casevaced. Four insurgents appeared to have escaped. Members of the participating stops are named here in stop order for reader information. Regimental numbers beginning with 72 denote regulars—referred to as troopers; all others are national servicemen, referred to as riflemen. Note the non-discriminatory mix of regulars with national servicemen. It is also interesting to note that Stops 4 and 5 were without an MAG machine gun—a rare occurrence. Stop 1 725602 Sgt. J. P. Schots 727386 Tpr. G. Lewis 728049 Tpr. C. Rowley 112741 Rfn. M. B. Johnson

FN FN MAG FN

Stop 2 725838 Cpl. R. J. Travers 108306 Rfn. D. Edgecombe 83439 Rfn. P. Rautenbach 728141 Tpr. A. Surgeon

FN MAG FN FN

Stop 3

726551 Cpl. R. A. Krusberski 104348 Rfn. P. Methuen 75936 Rfn. M. I. Morris 728076 Tpr. dos Santos

FN MAG FN FN

Stop 4 727130 L/Cpl. J. J. Erasmus 102301 Rfn. P. Kleinhans 102816 Rfn. A. R. Barry 727812 Tpr. B. S. Couper

FN FN FN FN

Stop 5 726461 L/Cpl. V. Peachey 107007 Rfn. E. K. Nell 726588 Tpr. B. M. Brnjac 728138 Tpr. A. W. Boise

FN FN FN FN

References Lt-Col R. E. H. Lockley, ‘A brief operational history of the campaign in Rhodesia from 1964 to 1978’, Lion & Tusk, Vol. 2, No. 1, July 1990 J. R. T. Wood, ‘Rhodesian Insurgency—Phase III: 1974–1977’, Internet Peter Petter-Bowyer, Winds of Destruction, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa 2005 The Cheetah, souvenir edition, 31 October 1980 Stu Taylor, draft Lost in Africa, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, due 2007 Beryl Salt, assisted by Wing Commander Peter Cooke & Group Captain Bill Sykes, A Pride of Eagles: The Definitive History of the Rhodesian Air Force 1920–1980, Covos Day, Johannesburg, South Africa 2001

On each Dakota, the requirement was for one fully qualified Parachute Jump Instructor (PJI) and two assistant dispatchers. The Air Force didn’t have the personnel to provide enough assistant dispatchers, so RLI personnel were trained in this role. Pictured here is the first RLI Assistant Dispatcher’s course. Back row from left: L/Cpl. ‘Gomo’ Myburgh (1 Commando), L/Cpl. Chambers (Support Commando), L/Cpls. Ken Daly and Marshall Ross (both 1 Commando). Seated from left: Tpr. ‘Pops Berry and C/Sgt. Johnny Norman (both 3 Commando), C/Sgt. Tony Hughes (RhAF PJI), unknown and Sgt. Trevor Hodgson (2 Commando).

Paras emplane at Grand Reef.

Des Archer, record holder of 73 op jumps.

Above and below: Parachute course at New Sarum Air Base, Salisbury.

Parachute training, New Sarum. An Air Force parachute instructor assists a soldier out of his harness on landing. The soldier appears to be a Brit, judging by the quality of his tattoos. Parachute training, New Sarum, Salisbury:

3 Commando personnel (11 and 14 Troops) emplane, January 1977. In line from left: Sgt. Keith Bartlett, L/Cpl. Pete Garnett, Tprs. Chris Barnard, Dave Simpson, Chris co*cks and Mark Condon.

RhAF PJI Paul Hogan (without helmet).

2 Commando paras on the way to a Fireforce action. Jimmy Swan is the assistant dispatcher standing. Fraser brown is foreground right with the camo cream.

Tpr. Murray Gibbs looks pensive prior to his first jump.

Sgt. Keith Bartlett … out the door!

Sgt. John Shots (2 Commando) afer his jump.

RLI Parachute log book and jump wings. The wings at tops were for combat-fatigue wear and those at the bottom for No. Ones—‘greens’.

American Lt. John Cronin (3 Commando) conducts rodeo proceedings at the Umvukwes Country Club.

Padre Bill Blakeway and Captain John Dixon after a few drinks.

L/Cpl. George Galloway BCR on bar duty in the 3 Commando pub.

L/Cpl. Russell Phillips (Support Commando) was to be awarded the Silver Cross in 1978.

L/Cpl. Mike Watson (left) and Tpr. ‘Bugsy’ Hyde of Support Commando. Both were awarded the Bronze Cross for acts of valour during 1977.

Martyn ‘Pudding’ Hudson (3 Commando) with his new bride Maggie at the RLI chapel. Training Troop:

Recruits embus onto an old Bedford RL in preparation for an exercise ‘in the bush’.

Recruit Bob Smith from Georgia USA poses with his sleeping bag in front of his bivvy on COIN training exercise.

Recruits gnaw happily on the remains of a warthog that was poached by one of their sharpshooters during the ‘120-miler’ endurance march.

Fire and movement manoeuvres at Cranborne Barracks. An instructor watches on in the background.

Contents of a rations pack laid out. Soldiers had a choice of three types of rat packs—A, B or C—all supplying adequate nutritional requirements but all equally unpalatable.

The Batmen

The commando batmen, although civilians, were treated with fondness and respect by the troops, being principle purveyors of fresh laundry, fresh food and fresh marijuana. Posing for the camera was a batman speciality.

‘Zambia’, a Shona boy captured by 3 Commando in a ZIPRA camp in Zambia, was brought back to camp and just kind of stayed. The RPD appears to be pulling him off-balance.

Geronimo, 3 Commando’s senior batman.

Batonke with the tool of his trade—an old coal iron!

Support Commando’s Matthew (at left), Obelix (seated) and unknown.

When the troops were out on deployment, batmen had time on their hands. Here a 2 Commando batman is fishing in the Zambezi.

Moses and Shorty aka ‘Sammy Davis Jnr.’ (3 Commando).

An elderly batman grins toothlessly.

The debonair Reggies (3 Commando).

Simon Carpenter looks pleased with himself after practice-firing a rifle grenade.

Two RAR soldiers relax in a village with Support Commando troops on deployment. From left: Nigel Wells, Ian Traynor BCR, Mark Malan, Tex Cummings and Pete Bruford.

3 Commando troopers pose studiously (and reluctantly) at Cranborne Barracks while Craig Bone photographs them for one of his paintings.

Fireforce troops sweep through a burning kraal during a contact.

Portrait of the artist as a middle-aged man. Craig Bone after the war at Mana Pools on the Zambezi.

Bogged down in politics In the previous year Ian Smith had accepted the Kissinger proposal for majority rule in Rhodesia. As far as he was concerned it appeared to be the best deal for the maintenance of law and order in the country—in contrast to what Britain was demanding. To him, it appeared that every time he cut a deal and accepted a ‘settlement proposal’ from the British government and prepared to implement, it he would be told that “it was merely a basis for further negotiations”. The American deal seemed to offer better options. In

keeping with the Kissinger deal, Smith was working to remove all forms of racial discrimination—including calling a general election to rid his party of its 12 radical, right-wing members. For its part, Britain was not happy with the Kissinger plan—Smith had bypassed them and was negotiating with the world’s superpower. However, by 1977 Kissinger had gone and the only remaining link Smith had with the deal was South Africa’s John Vorster who had already shown his true colours. In despair, Smith now returned to his plan for a negotiated internal settlement with the moderate African leaders in the country i.e. Bishop Abel Muzorewa, Chief Jeremiah Chirau and Chief Kayisa Ndweni— these last two with large traditional tribal followings. (These talks culminated in the short-lived Salisbury Agreement of 1978.) The change in the American administration introduced Cyrus Vance as the Secretary of State. For the Rhodesians, this was the death knell for any form of American assistance. Britain’s Prime Minister, James Callaghan, not wanting to appear as an Amercian lackey, visited Washington under the pretext that Britain was “searching for American assistance in finding a Rhodesian solution”. To this end Britain’s foreign secretary, Dr. David Owen, and the US ambassador to the UN, Andrew Young were dispatched to Rhodesia with ‘fresh’ Anglo–American proposals. Smith studied these but was dismayed to find that a precondition to an accepted political settlement required the total disbandment of the security forces. It was a suicide note no leader in his position could contemplate. The proposals were rejected out of hand. Rhodesia was back on the rack. In March, Smith formed the Ministry of Combined Operations, appointing Lieutenant-General Peter Walls as the supremo, placing the total war effort, civilian and military, under one leader.

Airborne During 1977, by necessity, the RLI became an airborne commando battalion and parachute training proper was begun. Two troops from 1 Commando had been para-trained toward the close of 1976 in an experiment to get a larger number of troops more rapidly into Fireforce actions. It was a success and para-training rapidly got underway, with two troops from 3 Commando following in January 1977. Support Commando had 24 of its members trained as parachutists by March and thereafter each commando sent troops

on a regular rotational basis to New Sarum for training. But facilities at New Sarum were limited, and in 1978 the SADF Tempe Base in Bloemfontein stepped into the breach. Chris co*cks, a member of 3 Commando, describes the experience: … During the middle of a Mtoko bush trip, we were suddenly told that 11 and 14 Troops were returning to Salisbury for parachute training. At first we didn’t believe it. We knew a troop from 1 Commando had been para-trained in November 1976 but we had thought this was only for experimental purposes. However, with the shortage of helicopters there was only one other way to rapidly deploy troops into a Fireforce action—by parachuting them in. It transpired that the 1 Commando experiment had worked out well. Therefore it had been decided to train the whole battalion. We felt honoured that 3 Commando had been selected to go first, particularly as 11 and 14 Troops were leading the way. Not everyone was thrilled with the idea, however. Loader was terrified but said he would try. Smit, the MAG gunner, was also terrified and said adamantly, “I’m not going. If God had wanted us to fly he would have given us wings.” Lieutenant Smith tried to reason with him. But Smit stubbornly refused to go and the lieutenant was left with no choice and Smit was posted out of the commando. I was very sad to see him go. When the day came we found ourselves outside a large hangar at New Sarum Air Base, where the Parachute Training School was housed. The instructors were a happy bunch. There were Rhodesian, British, American and Australian PJIs, and unlike Training Troop, there was no malice in their training methods. Their job was to teach us how to jump … in as short a time as possible. Our training was both extensive and comprehensive. We learned how to land—the mysteries of side-rights, side-lefts, front-rights and backlefts. They taught us how to exit the Dakota and the drills while still inside the aircraft. We were shown how to guide the lift webs during descent and how to operate the reserve if the main ’chute failed to open … Everybody paid particular attention during that lecture. It was important. Some of the lads were already para-trained. Furstenberg, for example, had his Special Air Services wings, and Hugh McCall had served in an American Airborne Division. It was old hat to them, naturally, and of course they took every opportunity to tell us so. “Listen sonny,” McCall used to tease, “I was in a T-10 harness before you were in a T-shirt.”

At last came the big day for our first jump. We boarded the Dakota nervously, the packs comfortable but still somewhat alien on our backs, and sat down along the sides. Then the Dakota gathered speed down the runway and took off, and we climbed sedately to a thousand feet. In my stomach a million butterflies felt as if they were moving a lot faster than the plane itself. We were to jump in sticks of two and we waited for the word of command. Suddenly it came. “STAND UP … HOOK UP … CHECK EQUIPMENT,” bawled the instructor. The roar of the slipstream outside the open exit door almost drowned his words. I rose and hooked the clip to the overhead staticline cable. It was just like the drill … except this time it was for real. I checked my equipment—quick-release box secure and clipped in … reserve secure … lift webs comfortable. The assistant dispatcher came forward and gave us a final check. When he was satisfied he returned to his position at the door. “ACTION STATIONS,” yelled the instructor. I shuffled forward to the door and put my right hand on the cowling above it to steady myself. My left hand was firmly across the reserve on my chest. Both my hands were sweaty and I realized I was biting my lips. Smit had been right. It was unnatural. I glanced at the instructor. He winked and flashed me a broad grin and I smiled back nervously. Would I remember everything I had been taught? When exiting the aircraft, jump out and not down … look straight ahead … keep your feet together. “STAND IN THE DOOR!” The red light flashed on. Two steps forward … “One two” The slipstream buffeted and distorted my face. Green light on. “GO!” ‘I leapt out, both arms across my reserve. I was immediately struck by the exhilarating force of the slipstream as it tossed me around like a feather behind the Dakota. Had I done everything I’d been taught to? There was a sharp crack above my head as the parachute opened, and I gazed up with relief at the large expanse of material billowing into a green mushroom above me. So far so good … But everything seemed to be happening too quickly. Remember the drills! Head tucked in … knees bent … elbows in. The ground rushed up at a frightening speed. Pull down hard on the lift webs and prepare the angle of your body to land with the wind direction. Crunch! I landed with a hard jolt, but rolled into a side-right in the manner born. Suddenly I realized that apart from a few bruises I was all right. My first jump was over. A newspaper photographer snapped his camera at me as I gathered in the folds of my parachute, and the next day in The Herald there was a picture of me which I cut out and vainly pinned on my locker back at

barracks. Eight jumps, including a night jump, and we were qualified paratroopers. It was one of the proudest moments of my life when I was awarded my wings and on our return to the bush we were regarded with envy by our comrades. However, we soon discovered, jumping operationally bore little resemblance to the halcyon days of training. The Rhodesians kept their paratroopers in the air for as short a time as possible, so as to offer little target opportunity to the enemy on the ground. To achieve this we were supposed to be dropped from a height of five hundred feet. But in reality it was usually lower. On occasions we were inadvertently dropped from altitudes of less than three hundred feet, which gave the parachute barely enough time to open before the ground rushed up to meet you. Rhodesia is rough country so invariably there was a lack of suitable dropping zones in a contact area. This left the pilots with no choice but to drop us into treed areas or onto rocks, and jump casualties were often high … especially when a strong wind was blowing. Encumbered with bulky webbing and an awkward machine gun strapped to one’s side, it could be a frightening experience. Sometimes we jumped with CSPEPs attached to our web straps. CSPEPs are large containers or packs that dangle beneath a paratrooper. They are not only extremely heavy, they also are difficult to jump with as they tend to sway and disrupt the parachute’s course. It is small wonder that RLI paratroopers referred to themselves as ‘meat bombs’. In very short time, however, the RLI became adept paras. With some aggressive dispatching ‘techniques’ it was not unusual to get a stick of 20 men out of the plane in less than 20 seconds—less than one second per man. The benefit of such a sharp exit was that the troops would land close together on the ground and be at readiness far sooner to prepare their sweep or advance than if they’d been scattered over a great distance. It is doubtful whether the Rhodesians’ record of operational jumps will ever be matched. In one year alone, in the late 1970s, over 14,000 operational jumps were recorded. It was not uncommon for RLI troopers to parachute into two contacts a day and on the rare occasion, three. Out of my total 42 jumps, 18 were operational. This was ordinary and there were many paras who exceeded 50 operational jumps. (The record for the most operational jumps in the RLI is held by Des Archer of 1 Commando—a staggering 73 op jumps! Surely a world record in any sense.) Jumping

operationally was not a pleasant experience and I did my damndest to ‘snivel’ and get into the heliborne sticks. I’m sure most RLI paras would agree with me that given a choice between para or heliborne, the vast majority would opt for the latter. Curiously, the RLI never officially regarded itself as an airborne unit in the true sense of the word. For most, the battalion’s role as light infantry never really changed. Parachuting was simply a method of getting troops into action, as were helicopters …

Fireforce matters Melson records: ‘… troops would exit the aircraft in the order desired on the ground.’ Quoting Brian Robinson (commander of the SAS), Melson continues: … The commander would position himself in the middle of the stick for control purposes; leading from the front did not come into contention. Helicopter and parachute sticks rotated duties, but remained together in stick order over extended periods (bush trips of six to eight weeks) and remained together in the same units (two to five years). With multiple call-outs in the same day from dirt airstrips, then recovering sticks to a major airfield for equipping and arming immediately for another assault, made this seem a normal procedure and they could concentrate on their actions on the ground rather than the tension of the flight. Individual strengths and weaknesses were known and commanders could interchange, as well as sticks themselves if needed. American Colour Sergeant John Coleman, 3 Commando, concluded that soldiers serving on Firforce duties required two qualities—’a healthy instinct for survival and a lot of luck. It took only a few call-outs to develop the first; but luck came and went at its own whim throughout all of our bushtrips.’ He added, ‘However, as on every call-out, you went in with the idea of staying alive, which meant hard, aggressive action once you hit the ground.’ An RLI Support Commando veteran, John C. LaDuke, noted, ‘We were beyond being afraid … we were in a constant state of numbness. Of course that’s when you got it … when you did not care anymore and did not fear … I stood at the edge of a clearing while a terr fired his RPD at me and an Aussie friend, Corporal Peter Binion … I watched him fire burst after burst at us while I leaned on my rifle, smoked a cigarette and Binny and I both muttered something to the effect of “Look at that f*cker shooting at us.”’

The pragmatic Reid-Daly believed what was needed in a Fireforce soldier was: a) to be highly aggressive; b) to have a high standard of snap-shooting; and c) to have initiative. Slow or hesitant reactions and poor shooting just wasted the effort of everyone involved in putting sticks on the ground. A stick commander/member had many combat and other details to check and remember. Support Commando’s Major Nigel Henson actually devised a ‘Fireforce Stick Briefing Aide-mémoire’, which read: Equipment a. Check on amount of magazines and belts carried and condition. b. Detail number and type of grenades to be carried and by whom. c. Detail who should carry spare radio batteries. d. Detail who will carry pangas (machetes) and toggle ropes. e. Check medic pack and detail who will carry. f. Make sure that each man has a field dressing. g. Show your stick where you carry your morphine. h. Check that each man has rations for at least 36 hours. J. Check that each man has enough water. k. Check that sleeping kit is secure and protected. l. Make sure that you have camouflage cream and it is used. m. Make sure that your controlled stores are secure. n. Make sure that your codes are secure and waterproof. o. Make sure that you have a white map. p. Remember to put your stick number on your hand. Use of helicopters a. Detail positions in aircraft. b. Detail regrouping drills after deplaning. c. Remember to put your headset on in the aircraft. Para stick briefing a. Detail stick order. b. Tell stick to watch where rest of stick lands. c. Brief stick on regrouping—channel—and senior stick. Movement a. Detail pairs, formations and individual positions.

b. Remind stick on system of clearing kraals. c. Detail system of cave-clearing. d. Detail how and when suspect areas will be cleared both before and after contact is made. e. Detail how you want fire and movement to be conducted over open ground and other obstacles. f. Detail arcs of responsibility on sweeps and halts. g. Show your stick all the hand signals you will use. h. Remember to detail the directing flank on sweeps and action on loss of contact with other sticks. Actions a. Detail action on halts and use of maps. b. Detail action on radio going U/S (inoperative). c. Detail action on contact and use of smoke. d. Detail action on indicating targets to stick and aircraft. e. Detail action on grenade (being) thrown at stick and own uses. f. Detail how you will use fire and movement in contact. g. Detail who will search bodies and kit, and when. h. Warn stick on looting. j. Detail action on casualties both to our side and the terrs. k. Detail action on being separated from stick. Command & signals a. Detail the chain of command. b. Inform stick on call sign and channel to be used. Include aircraft. Reminder to stick commander a. Remember to answer your radio first time. b. Put your map out whenever static. c. Remember that you are responsible for the success of your stick. If: i. you have wankers (jerks) in your stick, report to the troop commander. ii. debriefs are done, faults will be corrected. iii. you don’t brief your stick properly, you will have your arse kicked.

Chris co*cks comments: … This is the most amazingly detailed aide from Major Henson and is invaluable. Much of what is listed here was done instinctively and became second nature. Generally, at the start of a bush trip, the stick leaders would institute all these points and actions, and from then on these matters more or less took care of themselves. A good stick leader, however, would pay particular attention to the new members and ‘nurse’ them through the bush trip, in order to incorporate them smoothly into the system. The ‘Warn stick on looting’ point, however, tended to be ignored, certainly by the junior NCOs and troopers. In fact looting was tacitly accepted as a ‘bonus’ of the war … RLI Trooper Anthony Rogers reminisce: … During Fireforce operations, advance to contact was extremely nerve-wracking for anyone unaccustomed to local procedures. After deploying by helicopter, each stick would begin to sweep through an area. The stick leader listened in on his radio and advised his troops when the K-car warned that they were nearing the enemy. Sometimes the K-car did not see where the guerrillas were, in which case the element of surprise lay with the enemy. Either way, the troops had to press on until contact was initiated, usually at very close quarters. Often guerrillas would break and run, hopefully toward the waiting stop groups. Although that was the theory, both the sweep line and stop groups could become embroiled in their own little battles, with the operation developing into a series of individual contacts—a nightmare for the commander trying to direct events from above. However, superior training and firepower usually prevailed and a few guerrillas who survived a fire fight would try to surrender but not always … The Para-Dak closed as part of the lead element using the same formations and principles used for helicopter attacks. The Dak did not drop its troops until a contact was properly underway … and often conditions were dry with brush fires resulting during a contact, which further complicated decisions. It also meant the paratroopers did not have to do the tremendous amount of humping to clear the brush that the stop groups did or spend the occasional night on the ground. Once on the ground, the parachute sticks went straight into contact or were re-positioned by helicopter if some distance from the fighting as could be the case with a parachute drop. Having the Para-Dak drop its sticks onto their stop positions was more efficient than re-positioning them by helicopter once they were on the ground, but this depended upon the terrain for available

drop zones. Brian Robinson felt ‘Regrouping on the ground takes a hell of a long time so it is far easier to get out of the harness and provide an instant drop or sweep line without having to go through an RV (rendezvous) procedure. The K-car commander would normally have observed the drop and could provide control.’ Fireforces were stationed at any forward airfield or FAF [There were nine of these, namely: FAF-1 Wankie; FAF-2 Kariba; FAF-3 Centenary; FAF-4 Mount Darwin; FAF-5 Mtoko; FAF-6 Chipinga; FAF-7 Buffalo Range; FAF8 Grand Reef; FAF-9 Rutenga.] With at least a 1,000-metre runway in an operational area located near the JOC centre and Selous Scouts ‘fort’. The ‘op’ area also had Army Sub-JOCs, BSAP stations, Internal Affairs district offices and other government agencies involved in counter-insurgency operations. With Rhodesian Air Force detachments, both the Rhodesian Light Infantry and Rhodesian African Rifles were assigned Fireforce duties in sixweek spells. Journalist Nick Downie observed that Rhodesia’s best troops manned these reaction forces, generally with two commandos from the RLI and two companies from the RAR at any one time …

Dispatchers Marshall Ross writes: … The RLI supplied a number of parachute dispatchers to the Air Force after the whole battalion was parachute trained because there weren’t enough Blue Jobs at the Parachute Training School to go around. Anyway I, along with Ben Myburgh, John Norman and a few other guys, went on the first course at New Sarum. We then spent the next year or so mainly working in our own commandos as dispatchers, and, as stick leaders on a rotational basis. Occasionally we would be seconded to other units such as the RAR or other commandos. It was a good job when you went to other units because you lived in the Blue Jobs’ camp and we all know how well they lived. When I was based at Buffalo Range with the RAR I was tasked with taking out a Dak-load of SAS into Mozambique one night. It was to be one of the scariest nights I have ever spent in my entire life. Even the drop was eventful because one of the guys froze in the door and I had to swing on the cable and kick him out, because once you have received the ‘Gypsy’s warning’ and elect not to jump it’s a court-martial offence. Once we had dropped the guys off we had to fly across to the main rail link to Maputo and create a bit of a

diversion. This took the form of flying at about 100 feet off the ground with us guys in the back throwing out small bounce bombs. Everything was going well until we flew over a railway truck with a four-barrelled 14.5 gun on it (that shouldn’t have been there because ‘the convoy’ had been through there a couple of weeks before and was supposed to have neutralized the area). Next thing I know the night sky is lit up and I’m lying flat on the deck of the aircraft and we are taking serious evasive action. I remember thinking about two things at that moment—one was that there are not a lot of places to take cover in a Dak and the other was that this must have been what it was like at DDay. We managed to get out of the way eventually without anyone being hit, but our next worry was whether the landing gear would go down once we got back to Buffalo Range. Much to my relief it did so we didn’t have to go back to New Sarum and land on foam. The next day we went to have a look at the aircraft and it had more holes than a second-hand dart board and my parachute had a nasty bullet furrow across the back of it …

1 Commando attacks Mavui In April 1977, the end of the rainy season, 1 Commando was flown from Mount Darwin to Umtali and quartered in Addams Barracks—formerly a private school closed due to the war. It now housed 5 and 6 (Indep) Companies of the Rhodesia Regiment (national servicemen). At this time Umtali had been coming under increasing attacks from across the border in Mozambique. Marshall Ross recalls: … We were here for a week, waiting to be deployed on an operation into Mozambique to take out the border town of Machipanda. Brian McMaster, Derek Stokes, me and one other were to go in and blow up the power lines downstream of the town. In addition we were to do as much sabotage as possible, but the op was unexpectedly called off. Thank God, because it was one of the more hare-brained schemes that I was ever involved in. We were then flown to Buffalo Range in Chiredzi where we waited a couple of days in a TA camp until the vehicles containing our kit arrived. While we were waiting we were told we were to be part of a combined SAS and RLI attack on an enemy base camp at Mavui in Mozambique. The briefing was held around a large-scale model of the camp which was made up of an anti-aircraft camp on a small hill and, two kilometres away, an infantry camp on flat ground. The SAS were to take out

the anti-aircraft camp while 1 Commando, reinforced by a national-service independent company (this could have been 1 (Indep) Coy RR usually based in Wankie), would assault the enemy infantry camp. The attack went in with the SAS dropped in box formation around the AA camp which they successfully took out. Meanwhile we were choppered in and began to sweep toward the enemy camp. The national servicemen, green and inexperienced, kept holding up the sweep line. At one stage the sweep line came to a stop and there was a fair bit of gunfire coming from the lefthand side of the line (the Indep side of the sweep line). The boss told me to go and have a look. I ran over to that side of the line and asked one of the stick commanders what was the hold-up. Before he could answer, the nearby enemy opened up and we took cover. I told the boss we had a bit of a problem and I’d get back to him once I’d found the source. I eventually located the bugger ensconced in a small clump of trees and he was using an RPD by the sound of it. The ground to our immediate front was open mopane woodland which did not afford much cover. I called up the K-car and told them that I would indicate the target with a white phosphorus grenade. I got everyone to lay down covering fire then stood up and fired the grenade at the enemy position. I then asked the SAS K-car commander if he had the target area visual. He replied yes, so I told him to add 20 metres and open fire. The K-car opened fire and the next thing we heard over the set was an urgent “Stop! Stop! Stop!” This is normally broadcast when you are taking friendly fire. The K-car peeled off and resumed normal orbit. The SAS K-car commander asked me to repeat the target indication. I did and again told him to add 20 metres and again there was the same broadcast from the other end of the sweep line. This time I recognized the unmistakable and distinctive broad Pommy accent of Red Kerr telling the K-car commander that if he was shot at again he would shoot the f*cking K-car out of the sky! We went through the whole thing again and this time the K-car fired in the right spot. We charged forward and killed the offending CT. When we had overrun the camp we found it very well set up with trenches and firing positions everywhere. I looted two Portuguese G3 rifles and gave one to Dave Scott-Donelan who was our 2IC at the time. We also found it very well stocked with food. There were tons of United Nations cases labelled ‘Fight Famine’ and ‘UNICEF’ (childrens’ fund). We based up about a kilometre from the base and feasted on Dutch tinned chocolate milk and Norwegian sardines, among other delicacies, all courtesy of the UN. As we

drove out the next day we heard Radio Mozambique relating that they had repelled a Rhodesian attack and killed 600 of us! When we reached Buffalo Range we were met by Military Police who demanded to search our vehicles for loot. This was the closest we came to shooting our own people. The major told them to piss off and go and do some real soldiering …

Operation Aztec Beryl Salt describes this operation into Mozambique: … Operation Aztec was staged at the end of May running into the month of June 1977 and was designed to restrict the movement of ZANLA forces into southeastern Rhodesia. The plan was to mount a three-pronged attack. The 2nd Battalion, Rhodesia Regiment was to penetrate ten kilometres across the border taking out any staging posts in the area. Concurrently, a group of RLI would be helicoptered into the ZANLA complex known as Rio, which was situated close to the Nuanetsi River. Another group would be parachuted into the ZANLA base area at Madulo Pan. Meanwhile, a Selous Scouts flying column would move along the line of rail taking out all ZANLA camps as far as Jorge do Limpopo. The operation began at last light 28 May 1977. The column crossed the border using a bush track. The going was difficult in the dark but soon after dawn, they reached the Malvernia/Maputo road. Once again, FAF-7 played a large role as the Daily Diary for Sunday 29 May shows: ‘Up before the larks at 0400 to pass a weather check to pilots. Air Lieutenant Jan Mienie was airborne at 0545 with our Jetset (Intelligence Officer) Squadron Leader Steve Fenton-Wells and headed off into Mozambique territory to do telstar and top-cover duties. The Canberras were over us at 0550 and we eagerly awaited news of their efforts. Squadron Leader Cyril White took off from Malapati to act as telstar and passed on the welcome news that all strikes were on target. Several times during the day, the Hunters went in and there was a feeling of excitement as we listened in on the ops channel.’ Following the air strikes on Madulo Pan, 40 commandos were paradropped into the area. Among other items discovered were a considerable number of skulls and human bones, presumably the result of the Canberra strikes on the camp the previous year. Leaving members of the RLI at Madulo Pan, the column continued to Jorge do Limpopo, where, on the outskirts of

the town, it met with scattered resistance in the form of rocket and mortar fire. Air support was requested and the Hunters of No. 1 Squadron went in and dealt effectively with the enemy. Leaving members of the RLI to clear any pockets of resistance at Jorge do Limpopo and to hold this strategically important base against counterattack, the column set out for Mapai. Only minor opposition was encountered until the column reached Mapai airstrip. Here a large Frelimo/ZANLA force, armed with 14.5mm heavy machine guns, was holding well-prepared defence positions. There was a short, sharp engagement during which the enemy forces withdrew and after a night’s rest, the column moved on toward Mapai, leaving a small force at the airfield. It was now early morning on 31 May. At dawn, the Hunters carried out attacks on the Frelimo and ZANLA strong points around the town. Then the column moved in, coming under heavy but inaccurate mortar fire. The Hunters were called back but could not pinpoint the mortar positions. Large caches of arms, ammunition and equipment were discovered hidden around the village. The airfield at Mapai had not been damaged in the attack and so it was decided to send in a Dakota, carrying a team of mechanics who could repair captured ZANLA vehicles, which were then used to ferry valuable material back to Rhodesia … Jimmy Swan of 2 Commando was involved in the action: … 2 Commando was split into two—heliborne units to hit Rio and 24 paras to hit Madulo Pan. Selous Scouts would take a flying column through Malvernia, past Madulo Pan, into Jorge do Limpopo and then on to Mapai. The flying column comprised some very hairy Selous Scouts dressed in Frelimo uniforms— hard-core men in Jeeps, Unimogs and armoured ‘Pigs’, armed and bristling with mounted twin Brownings with endless belts of ammo, recoilless rifles and 12.7s We prepared as we would for a normal one-day raid, with minimal food but as much water as we could squeeze into our webbing and lots of weaponry and ammunition, grenades and our favourite bunker bombs, plus a 2-inch mortar just in case. The briefing informed us that the camps were presently occupied. Madulo Pan had an estimated strength of 150 ZANLA troops, all ready to infiltrate Rhodesia. Our task—jump in, seek and destroy. Simple. Canberras, Hunters and Lynx would provide air support. We took off just before daybreak, all pumped up and ready for a day’s killing and to return home later to a few beers and a nice warm sack. That’s

what it was all about for us. The fly-in was eerie—right over the trees as we crossed into ‘Porkos’ [Mozambique], heading for the target. At the same time, we knew our boys were flying into Rio. One was my brother, Rifleman Reg Swan. (After a full day’s fighting the gooks at Rio, the 2 Commando troops were uplifted by chopper for return to Rhodesia. Reg was in the Alouette sitting next to ‘Bobo’ Edmunds when an arbitrary group of gooks opened up on the chopper. One bullet entered under the chopper and through Bobo’s skull, killing him instantly. Reg was covered with poor Bobo’s blood and brains.) We were over the position in about 45 minutes and we could hear the Canberras making their run into the Madulo Pan camp. The Dak pilot pulled up and we were at jump height. My stick was to be first out the Dak and I was first in the door. Watching the air strikes go in never ceased to thrill me, even when standing in the door, waiting for the “Green Light GO!”. We were so low we could see birds in the trees from our 500-feet jump height. We often felt extremely vulnerable, but considering we were only in the air a few seconds, the chances of getting hit by ground fire were slim. It was seconds away and no matter how battle-hardened you were, the gut strings tightened. We were heavy with weapons, but comfortable. To us, this was just another Fireforce scene, but 100 clicks into Porkos. “Stand in the door!” and I had my chest out the door as the dispatcher steadied me, my strop already pushed to the side. It was wonderful and for a few seconds, I watched the air strikes, the bouncing bombs smashing through the tall trees and coming back up with the explosion. I must say the old Canberras had grace. “Go!” … and we piled out the door. The pull of the ’chute after some seconds, look up and then quickly down, waiting for the gooks to whack us. But there was no ground fire, no cracks through the air and we rode in, quickly hitting the clasps and out of our harnesses, into cover and watching. It was quiet. Silently the paras came in, not a sound but the thuds of bodies. Once we had all got into position, we were briefed by the Blues to move in extended line toward the camp. The sweep line shook out and we advanced. Arriving at the outer perimeter of the camp, we noted a few unexploded bombs and made sure we gave them a wide berth. The camp was still ‘warm’ and had clearly been recently and hurriedly evacuated. The lean-to-type bashers were smashed to smithereens. We picked up tracks heading directly toward the

town of Jorge do Limpopo. The camp had been forewarned. A mighty coincidence or yet another security leak? We were instructed to fall in on the road and await the flying column, which was not difficult to hear. It looked like a stampede of buffalo coming our way, with plumes of dust rising 100 feet into the air. The Scouts were firing at random into potential ambush areas. We were quick to advise them of our position. They drove in, windscreens removed, with the American John Murphy up on the front seat, his gunner mounted behind the driver. It was fearsome sight to see these big bearded men, ‘Woolies’ we called them. Murphy advised us he could make use of our services. There were now 24 RLI troopers and 72 Selous Scouts plus a few attachments from the likes of the Engineers, making up a total of 98 troops. We split up and hopped onto whatever vehicles had space for us and the column got underway again. We moved along the side of the railway line and could see a high water tower to our front as we approached the town. Then all hell broke loose as all 14 vehicles in the column opened up on the town at the same time. It was mayhem. We were taking flak from up ahead and the RLI paras were instructed to move in and neutralize these positions. We ran straight at these guys who were taking cover from the Hunters that were strafing the streets with their 40mm cannons. Jesus, what sheer power! Never had I experienced such raw power all around me. At 100 feet above you on their strafing runs, the planes seemed enormous. It was a noise you could never forget. I think even God took cover. A gunner manning the 102 recoilless fired into the water tower without warning. I shuddered from the blast. We then moved in on the group of bunkers at the entrance to the town of Jorge, setting down heavy fire as the Frelimo and ZANLA troops withdrew into their well-camouflaged foxholes. It took a while to make these out as they were so well dug in with bush camouflage on top. Trevor Hodgson and his guys were called to clear buildings while we gave the bunker-bomb treatment to three bunkers, killing nine or ten occupants, all Freds. I must state, that little kilogram of plastic that made up a bunker bomb was ingenious, but no matter how flat you lay and how much you opened your mouth and blocked your ears, you took a serious blast effect, not to mention the tons of crap that showered you. The clearance of Jorge was fast and efficient. The Woolies ruthlessly took out the town street by street. Sadly, the dozens of pigs wandering the streets were also taken out. (I’ve never seen such massive pigs in my life.) After all

the buildings had been cleared, so began the looting, the spoils of war. Out of cupboards and drawers, and torn from corpses, you could see the glitter of new watches, chains, transistor radios, money … and not a few ears. We all RV’d at the train station and in came the column. What a sight! Now what? The next thing was good. John Murphy was happy with our performance and wanted us on board for the rest of the operation. That was fine, but we had nothing, no food, no sleeping bags, only a bottle of water. Lieutenant Mike Rich, who had just joined the commandos, was to take three sticks, (his, mine and Budgie Nicholson’s) and our role would be to ambush any reinforcements attempting to infiltrate back into Jorge do Limpopo. The other 12 troops were to stay on with the column, which was to move toward Mapai. The American commander waved his arms, shouting, “Tally ho and away we go!” and in a cloud of dust and noise the column was gone. We felt like Jockstrap and Co.—left on our own. The only decent cover available was a tall bunch of trees to the north of Jorge and we needed to get in there and set up our ambush positions. We had a feeling that when the gooks had evacuated Jorge, they had made for the same trees, so we felt we were in for some strife. We had no aircraft on hand as they had returned to Sarum and the choppers were supporting the other raids.

Operation Aztec: Elements of 2 Commando combined with the Selous Scouts on this raid. Pictured here are the vehicles of the rampant ‘flying column’—one of the Scouts’ favourite, and ruthlessly

successfully, modus operandi when striking at ZANLA and Frelimo positions in Mozambique. The town being put to the sword here is Jorge do Limpopo.

It was all hush-hush as we negotiated our way toward the clump of trees and then the sound of shouting moving closer. We were some 50 metres off the road and lay flat on the ground in an extended line facing the road. The voices got closer and then we saw them, but only one or two at a time passed us. But they were cleverly spread out. We assessed that this was a ZANLA unit. They were heavily armed and were obviously planning some kind of assault on the column. We lay still. We could hear them still coming 300 metres away—on and on, they just kept filing past. We estimated there were about 50 or 60 of them. They looked quiet and menacing, dressed in black and armed with RPDs, RPGs and the like. If we’d opened fire we would have hit two or three at most. Realizing they were not aware of our presence gave us an advantage. We could ambush them down the line and get a couple of vehicles from the column to doubleback and take them on. Mike asked my advice and I agreed, in whispers, that we would all die if we attacked at that stage and it would be useless. They passed by and we skirmished toward the tree line. As we got into the trees, we radioed the sole Lynx above and advised him of this well-armed unit moving up behind the column. Then a crump, then another and then the explosions in the trees. Mortars! Small-arms fire came from nowhere. We had been compromised. How? Our tracks were difficult to distinguish. Regardless, we could see them pointing and gesticulating and could hear them moving onto our position. Though the trees were tall, it was fairly open ground. We lay in 360-degree formation and were now fighting for our lives as the ZANLA men assaulted our position. We didn’t fire unless we had a target visual as we had limited ammo. We still had the 2-inch mortar and 12 bombs between us. I was 60mm-trained and was confident on mortars. No base plate so the proverbial boot toecap became the next best thing. We didn’t bring the mortar into play at that stage as we had no clear and significant targets. But it was comforting to know it was there should the need arise. Either brave or stupid, three gooks then broke into the trees in a flanking attack, 20-odd metres from our position. Budgie and I had them visual and we opened fire with a series of double-taps. They screamed and fell. We

dragged the corpses back in behind us so the others couldn’t establish our exact position. Dusk came. All through the night the enemy kept up a barrage of smallarms and mortar fire. The mortars were a worry and although they were exploding in the canopy of the treetops, we felt it was matter of time before one stray bomb found a gap through the foliage and onto our position. We could feel our energy draining but sleep would have been a death sentence. We could hear from the town the noises of shouting and vehicles. Obviously the enemy was re-occupying Jorge. The light came up and Day 2 began. Little did we know then that we still had another four fraught days in this position—no food, no water, no sleep and continually vulnerable to an onslaught and being overrun. We had two options—try and break out toward Mapai, with the inherent danger of being caught in the open—or stay where we were and fight it out as best we could. We stayed and we fought. Sure enough they came at us again. We heard a train pulling in that night, presumably with enemy reinforcements and re-supplies. Man, were we in the poo. We called for support but to no avail. The Rhodesian forces were too thinly spread. In terms of weapons we still had the mortar as an ace up our sleeves, plus the three AKs and extra 7.62 intermediate ammo taken from the dead gooks. They were confused as to our exact position so they fired anywhere and everywhere, saturating the area with small-arms, rocket and mortar fire. We withdrew farther into the tree line and kept silence. Sure enough, they came into the trees again and again we let them have it, holding our fire until the last second. Down went some more. Now they knew where we were and it became a game of cat and mouse. I moved into a small clearing, set up the mortar and dropped two bombs down the tube in quick succession, aimed at an area where we’d heard loud chattering. (My toe—having been used as the baseplate—went ballistic!) The rounds struck home, or so we thought, as and we could hear lots of scuffling and scrambling to new possies (positions). This gave us a breathing space. Not only were the enemy unaware of our strength, but they now knew we had mortars. That earned us a bit more respect. Then over the radio: “Stops 6, 7 and 8, what is your situation?” We advised Blue Leader that we were surrounded and needed urgent air support. Hunters. We advised our exact locstat and suggested an aerial

bombardment of all the open ground surrounding our island of trees. A few minutes later the Hunters came in. Our saviours. Up until that time, we had endured a lonely, precarious situation. The jets tore through the sky, lacing the area with Sneb rockets and chattering 40mm cannon fire. It was a sight to behold and we breathed a collective sigh of relief as we hugged the earth. The surviving attackers turned tail and fled back to Jorge do Limpopo. Blue Leader then briefed us that a Dakota bringing in supplies and some engineers at Mapai strip had taken an RPG-7 and that the co-pilot, Flight lieutenant Bruce Collocott, was dead. The next day Charlie Small and his engineers salvaged what they could, placed charges in the wreckage and destroyed what was left of the aeroplane. He also told us that the United Nations had strenuously warned the Rhodesians to leave Mozambique as we were waging a war of aggression on a legitimate government, and that if we didn’t pull out the UN was going to send in troops. But we had other problems and told Blue leader that we were very vulnerable, with no food, almost out of water and not much ammo left. He said he was aware of our plight but he could not assist. Two more days went past. We killed a few more gooks who had come in after us. I sent up some more mortar bombs. By the fourth day we were on our last legs. Sheer adrenaline had carried us through, but the lack of food and fluids, and sleep deprivation, had ensured we were unable to attempt a break out in an effort to try and link up with our own troops at Mapai. Then we heard a familiar sound. The RLI was coming to get us. They sped past us on the road, saturating any likely enemy cover with a barrage of machine gun and rifle fire. They gave us the thumbs-up that the area was clear, and, with our last reserves of strength, ran for our lives to the awaiting trucks. Reaching hands grabbed at us and dragged our emaciated forms onto the vehicles. We were filthy, bitten to hell, and I could see the guys on top just thinking, ‘You poor bastards’. They dished out Frelimo rat packs with chocolate drink, ham, beans and cool drink. I tore open a can of meat, blood from my hand everywhere, and lay under the bench on the back of truck and stuffed my face. I vomited violently but carried on cramming the food into my mouth. My buddies were doing the same. Jorge do Limpopo thought it was over … but it wasn’t, quite. The column, now back from the cauldron of Mapai, moved again into the streets. We were all sectioned off and worked feverishly with the engineers, laying plastic and

dets on anything we considered valuable to the enemy—in the buildings, in the trains and carriages, down the wells, under bridges … everywhere. Meanwhile the Scouts plundered and pillaged anything that could be taken back to Rhodesia—buses, tractors, trucks, anti-aircraft guns etc. etc. When all was ready and all charges set and laid, the column withdrew a short distance to the outskirts of the town. I caught a lift with a ‘liberated’ bus. We pulled up and watched as the engineers detonated their myriad charges. The explosions were awesome as the whole town seemed to disappear in a massive mushroom of black smoke. We headed for Malvernia at a slow pace, carefully scanning the roads for landmines. It was a long and dusty trip but I think we slept. We arrived at the airstrip, back on Rhodesian soil at long last. We saw the white ComOps Dak parked on the strip. A bunch of 3 Commando guys passed us, on their way into Mozambique on another mission. We traded friendly insults with each other. We got off the vehicles, stinking to high heaven, to be welcomed and congratulated by Air Vice Marshal Mick McLaren, General Peter Walls, P. K. van der Byl and other such important people. As usual, the hyenas from Special Branch were there, trying to search us for contraband or whatever. It was disgusting and we were hard-pressed not to shoot them out of hand. We had a suitcase of Mozambican escudos we’d taken off a dead Frelimo paymaster. That was ours—end of story. We estimated a million escudos, not worth too much, but even on the black market it would buy us an awful lot of beers. We headed for the Scouts fort, had showers and were given fresh kit and hot meals. It was all so surreal. We arrived back in Salisbury the next day. During this raid we had held Mapai for seven days. The success of the raid wasn’t measured in kills. (I believe about 150 Frelimo and ZANLA were taken out.) But the damage to the Frelimo infrastructure and the damage to ZANLA’s morale was immeasurable …

Now you hold it right there! The commandos were regularly involved in a host of other cross-border operations, generally without code names. These varied from small, covert four-man recce patrols to the more overt full-troop, or even full-commando, ‘search and destroy’ missions. On the latter, quite often the intention was to simply make contact with the enemy by any means possible and to create as

much mayhem and carnage as possible. One objective was to establish a ‘nogo’ zone along the borders, but on the enemy side of the border, and if that meant disrupting the civilian population, then so be it. (Burning kraals was in fact one such tactic and was not uncommon in an effort to deny the enemy local civilian support.) In terms of military strategy, such forays were more of a nuisance for the enemy than anything else, but nevertheless achieved the objective of keeping ZANLA and ZIPRA (and their respective hosts Frelimo and the Zambian Army) on the back foot and farther away from the borders, making it more problematic for them to infiltrate Rhodesia. Commandos would either walk in across the border (or infiltrate by police boat if crossing the Zambezi into Zambia), or if the objectives were too far in, be sent in by helicopter. Charlie Warren (3 Commando) was involved in one such action: …We took off from Buffalo Range after 1600 hours and made our way east. We knew when we had crossed the border as there was no sign of life and the bush was dry, with only dilapidated kraals dotting the area we were flying over. We flew for about 15 minutes after we had crossed the border and the tech gave the signal that we were going to land. The choppers dropped our three sticks and we all joined up in the surrounding trees. Lieutenant John Cronin briefed us again and told us all to switch on. I told the troopies to conserve their water. We hung around a bit just to ensure that we were not being watched and then moved out in single file. We covered about ten kilometres before it became too difficult to walk in the dark without bumping into either the Freds (Frelimo) or the ZANLA gooks we had set out to find. Lieutenant Cronin set us down in an ambush position and told us to take turns in eating our cold ‘supper’, as he had specified no cooking, so that meant there would be no brew (tea) either. The guard roster was made out and the night passed uneventfully. In Mozambique it got lighter earlier and quicker than normal, so the last guard was instructed to wake everyone as soon as he could see dawn breaking. As soon as we were woken up, we brewed tea and had something to chow, some dog biscuits and orange segments in juice or whatever fruit that was issued in the rat packs. We never ate heavy breakfasts when we had a long march ahead of us, especially with our heavy Bergens packs. We had been told to take at least ten water bottles each with us as there was no water in the area. The Bergens weighed roughly 45 kilograms depending on what you took for your ration supply. It was easier to leave out the packets of sugar and

the powdered milk (which tasted like crap anyway) and have your tea black, to lessen the weight you had to carry in your Bergens—each to his own! Lieutenant Cronin told everyone to hurry up with their brews as he wanted to reach the power lines before the heat started in earnest, and that we could start cross-graining the area for terrorist spoor (tracks). [These are the power lines that run from Cabora Bassa Dam on the Zambezi in Tete to South Africa, and run roughly parallel to the border 50 to 100 kilometres inside Mozambique.] The usual whingeing was there, with guys sipping their scalding hot tea as quickly as they could and packing away their kit and burying any trash in an antbear hole or whatever was nearest and quickest. Our leader took off in an easterly direction, with long strides. I watched the sun rise in the sky as we walked. As it rose you could feel the heat. At 0700 hours it was already hot and sticky—they could have Mozambique, it was a sh*t hole. While we walked, it became obvious that there was no wildlife anywhere and the birdlife was few and far between, obviously all eaten. Lieutenant Cronin called a halt to check his map. According to the map we should hit the power lines in the next kilometre or so. Yeah, yeah Lieutenant, heard that one before, I thought. I went to a tree and jacked up a smoke. I didn’t want to sit down with my Bergen still on. Once you had sat down with this Bergen on your back, you battled to get up again. You looked like a tortoise that had been put on its back and was struggling to get onto its feet. It was amusing watching the guys try and get up on to their feet once they had sat (fallen) down with their Bergens on. It was nearly 0730 hours and already the heat was taking its toll on our water supplies. We had also been instructed to take our salt tablets to prevent cramp and dehydration. The signal was given to prepare to move out and Lieutenant Cronin took those long strides again toward the power lines. These power lines ran parallel to a dirt road and this road was well used according to our briefing. We came up to within view of the power lines and the stick commanders were summoned forward. We were told that we were going to cross-grain this area and look for spoor and at the same time look for a river that was marked on the map as a possible water supply, and, when we found it, make our firm base nearby. We cross-grained for a few hours but the heat was becoming unbearable. We were sweating out more liquid than could be replaced. Lieutenant Cronin called us forward and said if we didn’t find the river line soon we would stop and base up in cover until it was cooler to carry on. We walked another 15 to 20 minutes and the river line

was spotted. It was bone dry (surprise surprise!). The tree cover along the banks was very thick. Lieutenant Cronin told the sticks to split up along the cover for a lunch break. Two guys were sent to the riverbed and told to start digging in an effort to find water. They dug for about a metre and a half and the soil became damp. This was a good sign. After another five minutes’ digging, water started to appear. Lieutenant Cronin was notified and we were instructed to fill our empty bottles, one person at a time. The last guy had filled his water bottles and we had just brewed our tea when we heard a vehicle in the distance coming from the south. Lieutenant Cronin called over the radio and told the stick commanders to get their sticks to pack away their kit; that we were going to ambush the vehicle but only if the passengers picked up anything suspicious as to our whereabouts when crossing the dry riverbed. We threw out our precious brew, packed away any loose kit and went in to the prone position to wait for the order to fire. The vehicle came into view. It was a Unimog 1.5. It had a few (what looked like) nurses on the back with some Freddy (Frelimo) escorts plus the driver and a passenger in the front seat. The vehicle slowed right down and changed down to first gear to get through the sand. It started crawling through the sand, but the troops on the back were more interested in chatting up the nurses than looking into the river line, where we were waiting to open fire, should they suspect anything. Lieutenant Cronin let the vehicle through the ambush and it carried on up the dirt road to the north. It was midday and the sun was blisteringly hot. The air was so hot that when you breathed it burnt your throat, and this was in the shade. Lieutenant Cronin stood the ambush down and told us to finish or brew and lunch. Finish your brew? We had to throw the stuffing brew away—remember! I thought to myself. I went back to the hole that had been dug for the water and filled up my brew cup and started boiling water again but I did not make it as hot as the first cup, in case we had a similar situation. When it was ready I drank it as quickly as I could and chowed a tin of bully beef for lunch with a few dog biscuits. Then we waited for it to get a bit cooler so that we could crossgrain the eastern side of the road to look for the enemy. We didn’t know it at the time but there was a gook camp, just to the southeast of our position— about two kilometres away. It was now about 1430 hours and we were all alert since the vehicle had come through our ambush site. Some of us were whispering to each other,

idle chatter, when we heard it again—a vehicle coming from the north this time. It sounded like the first vehicle. Lieutenant Cronin gave instructions to the ambush party and told Percy Hodgson that he was to open fire on the Freds if they made a move for their weapons. Lieutenant Cronin told us to take only aimed shots as he was going to hide in the bushes where the road met the riverbed as he wanted to capture the Freds. It was a hoot as he scurried over to the bushes and hid behind them. We all knew he was there and were to be careful if we opened fire. The Unimog started to slow down and was at a virtual halt on the northern side of the riverbed. Yes, it was the same vehicle, minus the nurses. The Freds were switched off and were talking between themselves. As they were crossing, about five metres from the end of the riverbed, Lieutenant Cronin jumped out of his bush, his weapon pointed at the Unimog and shouted in his finest American drawl “Now you hold it right there!” I thought he had lost it. Here he was shouting at Frelimo troops who probably did not understand a word of English, and to top it all, with a heavy American accent. I watched the driver and the occupants in the Unimog staring in disbelief. Then in a split second they made a decision to go for their weapons. As they did Percy opened up. This was our signal to kill the occupants of the vehicle. Our three MAGs and nine rifles were all firing at once. The Freds did not stand a chance, nor did they deserve one—they were harbouring our enemy. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Lieutenant Cronin slowly advanced on the vehicle to check out the bodies. They were all dead. A search of the vehicle was done but there was nothing interesting to be found. The weapons were gathered and distributed for later ‘export’ to Rhodesia when this task was finished. Then we heard mortars being fired in the distance, coming from the area that we were to cross-grain, east of the road. The mortars were being fired thick and fast but were dropping some distance away, probing for us. Lieutenant Cronin told us to gather our kit and put on our Bergens. We started to march quickly in a westerly direction. We didn’t know if it was Frelimo or the gooks firing at us, but regardless, our position was compromised and shortly thereafter we were uplifted by chopper and returned to Buffalo Range. We spoke about this ambush for weeks on end and had a good chuckle at the “Now you hold it right there” in a mimic of the American accent …

2 Commando in Operation Hurricane

Major J. D. Dawson was succeeded as OC by Major S. D. Haarhoff in this year. At midday on 2 May a call sign from 3 (Indep) Coy RR initiated a contact with an unknown number of insurgents in the open country of the St. Swithin’s TTL. Fireforce was called up and three sticks were deployed in one long extended sweep line through long, dry grassland with scattered trees, toward the original contact area. As they advanced they came under AK fire from an insurgent who was behind a tree. The sweep attacked the position and the man, along with a young woman who was with him, broke and ran. Both were killed. On the morning of the 9 August a call sign of 2 Commando (Second Lieutenant V. A. Prinsloo) was being trooped by helicopter from Mount Darwin to Marymount when, unexpectedly, the eagle-eyed chopper tech spotted a number of insurgents digging for water in a riverbed. Stop 1 was dropped immediately some 500 metres short of the river and swept up to the digging site. Stops 2 and 3 were dropped on likely escape routes. The K-car initiated the contact by opening fire on an insurgent who was seen to be hit. The remaining insurgents bomb-shelled but four chose to remain, firing at the K-car. Stop 1 then contacted these four, killing three and wounding and capturing the fourth. This man, who was the section commander, was casevaced to Mount Darwin but was dead on arrival. Two women who were with the insurgents were also killed. Stop 2 then found the insurgent wounded by the K-car and killed him. Some 15 insurgents appeared to have escaped with their weapons. A 60mm mortar was found with two bombs down the tube. One bomb had been struck by the firing pin but had failed to go off, due mainly to an amount of sand and dirt in the tube. The commando OC, the meticulous Major John Dawson, obviously miffed, commented: ‘It is felt that had there been a K-car commander more terrs would have been accounted for. Tactically the deployment was suspect.’ Disagreeing, the unit commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Rich observed: ‘While being overwhelmed by the modesty of the OC 2 Commando, in my view, despite his not being there to control things, this was a successful spontaneous contact. The steely-eyed Air Force tech is to be congratulated.’ At first light on the morning of 19 August, c/s 21 of 2RAR, manning an OP in the Chesa Purchase Land spotted nine insurgents, all wearing blue denim overalls, feeding at a kraal. (The c/s had been on a follow-up). They called up Fireforce. Arriving overhead, the K-car orbited the area, which consisted

mostly of ploughed fields along a river line which drained into a dam, but no insurgents were visual. Stops 1, 2, 3, and 4 were placed on the ground to cross-grain. Stop 3 found spoor heading east. The K-car was then fired at by two insurgents in a cattle kraal. The K-car went over and killed both. A third was then seen running along a footpath to the east. He was also taken out by the K-car. Stop 4 engaged a fourth running west on the same track and killed him. There was no sign of the outstanding five. Three AKMs and one AK were recovered and handed to SB Mount Darwin. As a result of the capture of four insurgent recruits, the whereabouts of an insurgent base camp for 50 on Haramba Hill in the Maramba TTL was divulged. Fireforce was deployed on the 13 December but could not locate the camp. The captures were then brought in to indicate the target which turned out to be a hill feature named Nyamatombe to the east of Haramba. Three sticks, Stops 4, 5 and 6, using the captures as guides, began to sweep down the boulder-strewn, bushy re-entrant east of Nyamatombe while Stops 1, 2 and 3 swept down the ridge line of the next hill among several very thick gwashas (tree thickets found in the folds of a hill). Stops 7, 8 and 9 were positioned as ambushing stops south of Nyamatombe near an adjoining field. Sweeping down the re-entrant Stops 4, 5 and 6 found a number of resting places wherever the boulders formed caves and overhangs. Stops 1, 2 and 3 in their sweep found four women at one such feeding place. The atmosphere was very tense. Stops 4, 5 and 6 were still moving down to join Stops 1, 2 and 3 with whom they intended to link up and complete the sweep. As they continued Stops 1, 2 and 3 came under fire from a cave. Stops 1, 2 and 3 were instructed to move into stop position. Stops 4, 5 and 6 then attempted to clear the cave. During the attempt Trooper M. D. Betts was shot and killed instantly. The stop line then moved back to allow the Lynx to put in a Frantan strike. It was ineffective. Stops 7, 8 and 9 began to move up to clear the cave. The Lynx meanwhile put in further strikes on the cave. Stops 7, 8 and 9 then tried to clear the cave. They were also unsuccessful. In the attempt Trooper P. V. Burke, the MAG gunner, was shot through the thigh. He was dragged back by his stop mates and taken to a casevac LZ. It was now nearly dark. The troops were replenished with ammo and took up ambush positions for the night. During the night they heard talking and much coughing from the cave. At first light a further Frantan attack was put in on the cave. These were accurate but did no damage in the cave itself. Several attempts were also made to drop Avtur fuel drums from the top of Nyamatombe into the

cave but accurate delivery could not be achieved. In the end it had to be done the usual way—by ‘the poor bloody infantry’. Stops 7, 8 and 9, led by an aggressive and determined Corporal P. J. Oppermann, attacked the cave, finding three insurgents. They killed all three with bunker bombs. There was a fourth already dead. The outstanding insurgents, estimated between two and six, had escaped in the night, taking with them Burke’s MAG which he had dropped when hit. Major Simon Haarhoff, the OC, later recommended Oppermann for an award. Both Haarhoff and Peter Rich later mentioned the urgent need for cave-clearing equipment. The brigade commander, Brigadier A. B. Campling, commented: ‘OC Av. Det. Hurricane has arranged for drums of diesoline and paraffin to be positioned with Fireforce Mtoko and these will be used at the next opportunity. CO 1RLI has produced a paper on the problem of terrs in caves/rocky outcrops. This has been passed on to ComOps HQ together with OC Av. Det. Hurricane’s remarks on the paper.’ At dawn on the morning of 18 December in the Mangwende TTL, a Special Branch OP, acting on intelligence received, was in position on the thickly wooded slope of a hill with very broken ridges and thick tree cover consisting mostly of mutiti (lucky bean) and flowering mutsatsatsi (Faurea) trees. Pre-positioned at Mtoko was the awaiting Fireforce. Despite the guti (guti, pronounced ‘gooty’, is a Rhodesian/Zimbabwean weather peculiarity in the form of soft coastal rain which, descending inland, resembles heavy mist), the OP was able to discern an insurgent base camp with about 12 occupants. Fireforce deployed at 0530 hours and dropped Stops 1 to 4 on pre-planned hill LZs. Para Stops Hog 1 to 5 were dropped and ferried to their positions by G-car. Both K-cars saw insurgents breaking cover and running northward from the camp and engaged them, killing three and wounding three. Once all stops were on the ground Hogs 1 and 2 and Stops 5 and 6, led by Lieutenant G. Murdoch, were instructed to sweep forward, then locating three insurgents in a cave. They tried unsuccessfully to clear the cave then moved back to allow the Lynx to put in a Frantan strike. As they moved back an insurgent in another cave, armed with an RPD, opened up on them and killed Corporal R. J. Travers. The cave was attacked and the RPD gunner was killed. Meanwhile the Frantan strike was right on target. The sweep then attacked the first cave and killed the three occupants. The sweep line moved northward and, still displaying a high standard of shooting, killed another two insurgents in two different caves. When they reached a rocky ridge, two Hunters, using Frantan and front guns, put strikes into the main

enemy camp area. One insurgent broke from the camp and ran southward along the river line where the K-car caught up with him and killed him. Following the Hunter strike Stop 1 and Hog 4 swept up to the base camp, killing one. At the same time, Hog 1 and Stops 5 and 6 came across the three wounded earlier by the K-car and killed them. During this sweep an insurgent broke north and was pursued by the K-car which killed him. Seven civilians had been killed—three women and four men. A further three—two women and a man were captured. Two insurgents appear to have escaped. The final count was 14 dead insurgents—five by the K-car and nine by ground troops. Haarhoff commented on Murdoch’s excellent control of the sweep line in very difficult terrain.

3 Commando in Operation Hurricane The OC at this time was Major J. T. Strong. At 0730 hours on 20 September, a Selous Scouts OP in a farming area in the Mtoko TTL spotted some insurgents in very thick riverine jesse and called up Fireforce. The talk-on by the OP was good and the insurgents were caught by surprise when a G-car overflew their position. Both K-cars engaged the fleeing insurgents which halted the breakout. The Lynx dropped two Frantans into the general area. Stops 1 and 2 were dropped south and north of the area respectively. Banana sticks (3 Commando paras) were dropped west of the hills. From there Banana 1 was uplifted to join Stop 1 for the immediate sweep of the area. The remaining para sticks deployed as ambushing stops in the west and Stop 2 covered the sweep line from the north. The sweep line, moving east to west in an arc, initially captured two insurgent recruits. The K-car also took out three insurgents spotted hiding in the rocks near the river line. The sweep line went through the area and was about to withdraw when it came under fire from three insurgents concealed in the rocky outcrops—one of whom was armed with an RPK. The ensuing fire fight went on for 45 minutes with Stop 1, under Lance-Corporal Percy Hodgson, bearing the brunt. All three insurgents were killed, Hodgson having directed his stop very well. These three might have escaped had they not opened fire on Stop 1. Their rashness cost them dearly. Another was killed as the sweep cleared the river line itself. A further two were captured. One RPK and six AKs were recovered and handed in to SB Mtoko.

A local informer in the hilly Mtoko TTL divulged the whereabouts of 12 to 14 insurgents to the police. Two Bailiff (police) call signs positioned themselves as OPs on two kopjes. In the morning of 25 September, they saw four insurgents feeding in the suspected area. They called up Fireforce. There was a lack of a suitable DZ near the target area so the para sticks were dropped six kilometres away and ferried into the area by G-cars. The K-car meanwhile engaged a group of five insurgents in the river line, killing one and wounding another. Another six were seen 200 metres south. The K-car came over, engaged them and killed two. The Lynx put in a Frantan and rocket strike on both positions. The lack of LZs meant that Stops 1 and 2 were dropped together. Both came under immediate fire. They swept forward and contacted two insurgents, killing one and capturing the other. The para sticks, deployed in the very high ground to the east, began to sweep west. They had a contact with one fleeing insurgent who escaped. They then found the bodies of two others who had obviously been killed by Frantan. Stop 3 was deployed later. A further sweep by Stops 1 and 2 resulted in another contact where one insurgent was killed and one captured. A total of six insurgents escaped, one of whom was wounded. Nine AKs were recovered and two packs which were handed to SB Mtoko. Two days later, Strong and his men were deployed to the sighting of a group of five insurgents by a PATU call sign in the Mangwende TTL. Here the country was made up of tree-studded kopjes with large boulders/caves among thick jesse bush and msasa trees. There was a very good talk-on by the PATU call sign, which resulted in almost complete surprise. When the Kcar arrived overhead it immediately engaged three insurgents running down from the top of the kopje. It killed one and wounded the other two. A Frantan strike was put in and stop groups deployed. Paras were dropped in a nearby DZ area and ferried in by G-car. Stop 2, moving north to join Stop 1 for the sweep, had a contact with one insurgent who was killed. Stop 1 killed another in the sweep. An RPG-7 rocket was fired at the K-car by an insurgent who then decided to flee as Stop 3 approached, dropping his RPG-7 and two rockets in the process. The sweep line, moving north–south, flushed out another insurgent who was killed. Three women civilians hiding in a cave were taken for enemy and also killed. A male civilian who ran before Banana 2’s sweep line was also killed.

Support Commando in Operation Hurricane

On 15 May, a Selous Scouts OP in the Mtoko TTL called out Fireforce for an attack on an insurgent base camp which was in a rocky area surrounded by thick bush. There was some difficulty locating the camp as the insurgents were lying low even after the K-car had fired directly into their camp area. The enemy was occupying first-class defensive positions among large rocks and boulders. The general camp area was confirmed, however, and sticks were dropped by helicopter and Para-Dak. The base was assaulted and Stops 2 and 3 were involved in a fire fight with three running insurgents, all of whom were killed. Trooper G. W. Clarke was killed in this engagement. Stop 1 had a stiff fire fight with another two insurgents, both of whom were killed. Unfortunately, Trooper E. A. C. MacDonald was killed in this skirmish. Stop 4 along with Para Stops 4, 5 and 6 then formed a sweep line toward Stop 1’s contact area where they hit the main enemy group and were pinned down by the insurgents who were firing from good cover. Three Lynx strikes were put in and the K-car gave the camp a number of ‘revs’, which were followed by intense machine gun from the G-cars. None of this succeeded in neutralizing the position. Finally, at last light, a Canberra strike was ordered which was bang on target. The area was ambushed for the night and at first light the sweep revealed three dead insurgents in the main camp area. Four to seven insurgents appeared to have escaped, all of whom, it was subsequently found out (by Selous Scouts), were wounded. The Scouts also revealed that the troops had killed the enemy section commander, the political commissar and the security officer. In September, Major André Dennison of A Company 2RAR was Fireforce commander in charge of a composite force of his company and Support Commando. In his own words: … On 8 September at 1315 hours c/s 72 (Selous Scouts) reported eight to ten CTs having, what amounted to, an orgy with a group of females at VR 542221 [grid reference] in the Zimbiti TTL. Fireforce, consisting of K-car and three G-cars, Lynx and Para-Dak deployed to the area. When the Fireforce was about a minute out the CTs scattered and c/s 72 engaged them without causing casualties. Stops 1 and 2 were dropped on the banks of the Nyaswara River and started heading south towards the contact area. K-car engaged a group of CTs and women breaking northeast and downed one CT. A further group of CTs and women broke southwest and were engaged without success by the K-car, which by now only had a few rounds left. At this point the paras were dropped in one line 400 metres southwest of the contact area, forcing the fleeing CTs to go to ground. The

paras (Eagle sticks 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5) and Stop 3 then began to sweep northeast, leaving behind Trooper Culm who had injured his knee on landing. Meanwhile Stops 1 and 2 moved through the area, contacting and killing three CTs and a number of women who were skulking about in thick bush. The para sweep line got involved in a series of contacts in the course of which Second Lieutenant Willar was shot through the calf. Three CTs and a number of women were killed during this sweep. During this time the K-car downed one CT who tried to sneak northwest to the river, and the G-cars finished him off with their MAGs. Interrogation of four AFAs (African Female Adults) revealed that the group had consisted of eight CTs. On sweeping the area eight dead CTs were found—one armed with an AK, only about 16 years old—and eight weapons were picked up. Eleven AFAs and one civilian AMA (African Male Adult) were also killed. Several AFAs were wounded and evacuated to Tanda. The OP c/s 72 was a valuable source of information throughout the contact and was instrumental in talking Stop 1 onto two CTs whom they subsequently killed. Five stops were left on the ground overnight. During the para sweep at least one rifle grenade was fired at the stops but no unfixed grenades were recovered. The first CT downed by the K-car lived for about two hours but died before it was possible to fly him out …

Operation from FAF-5 Beryl Salt describes a Fireforce operation out of Mtoko involving RLI, from the Air Force perspective: … It began on the morning of 4 April 1977, when Flight Lieutenant co*cky Beneke spotted what looked like two terrorist camps in the bush. A Fireforce was mobilized. Alouette pilots Danny Svboda and Vic Cook were already in their seats strapping on their blue flak vests. Technicians made last-minute checks as the helicopter blades began to turn. On the runway, Flight Lieutenant Ed Potterton was warming up his Lynx. His job was to supply fire support for the troops, with rockets and bombs. Flight Lieutenant Tom Tarr, a reserve pilot from Air Rhodesia, was starting up his Dakota as the parachute assault troops of the RLI filed aboard, each man with his jump helmet, parachute, rifle and ammunition. It was the last day of this particular tour and this commando had notched up 67 kills. They were keen to make it 70. With a whine, the helicopters lifted off while the Lynx and Dakota roared down the runway. The assault force had

synchronized their time of arrival so as to bring the total force to bear at the same moment. Twenty minutes after take-off the force was over the target. Circling high overhead was a Police Reserve Air Wing aircraft. Below, the helicopters dipped in and out of the valleys. Higher, the camouflaged Lynx darted in ready for the fray, while in between lumbered the Dakota following its pre-arranged flight path, its belly full of paratroopers, awaiting the word to drop. First on the ground were the helicopter troops, only to be met with disappointment. It was certainly a ZANLA camp but three weeks old. The troops emplaned again and made for the second camp. On this occasion, there was a contact. The chopper-borne assault force went in, followed by the paratroops who were dropped into a maize field a few hundred metres from the action. Meanwhile back at FAF-5, the FAF commander, Squadron Leader Kesby and the RLI commander Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Rich were listening to the action: “One terrorist has already gone up the river, going west. Where! Right. I’ve got him. What a pleasure!” Then came news that an RLI trooper had been shot and was being brought back by helicopter. The army doctor, a national serviceman, trundled up to the runway in his ambulance with medics ready to help. The injury apparently had occurred when one section of heliborne assault troops encountered some women civilians. The stick leader called one of the women over and as he was speaking to her, a concealed terrorist opened fire with his automatic weapon. One round hit the trooper but he was only wounded in the shoulder and was sitting up in the helicopter smiling. The helicopter waited on the ground, with its engine running and the rotor blades flashing in the sunlight while the ground crew pumped fuel into the tanks and the pilot and his technician grabbed a cool drink. Then they were off again. The next aircraft to refuel was the Lynx. Pilot Ed Potterton briefed the squadron leader and the colonel on the state of the action, while the technicians refuelled and rearmed his aircraft. By the end of the day, the terrorists who had escaped were far away. Trackers would be dropped later to follow their spoor. Four had been confirmed dead and others had been captured. The Dakota had taken off to collect the paratroops who had found their way to a convenient airstrip. It was quite dark before the last two helicopters come beating back, their red anti-collision lights flashing in the night sky. After debrief, it was time for a shower and then into The Chopper’s Arms for a well-deserved beer.

On the next day, No. 7 Squadron helicopters went to the aid of a farmer near Odzi. The terrorists opened fire some way off at the side of the house. The farmer returned fire while his wife and young son manned the Agric Alert. The rockets and small-arms fire set part of the roof alight but two helicopters were soon on the scene and engaged the attackers who fled. About 20,000 kilograms of tobacco were burnt, two tractors damaged, and a store in the area burned and looted …

2 Commando in Operation Thrasher In the early hours of 20 January, Second Lieutenant Seton-Rogers, Officer Cadet Thompson, Corporal Jeffrey, Trooper Braunswick and Riflemen Dongworth (MAG), and De Pledge-Smith were manning an ambush position in the St. Swithin’s TTL. The ambush position itself was well sited by a footpath that ran along the western side of a football field. There was a kraal to the east. Farther south this path was intersected by another. The surrounding area was sparsely treed with msasa and muchecheni (buffalo thorn) trees, but there was thick shrub and bush ground cover. It was a clear but moonless night. At 0210 hours, the sentries heard voices and movement coming from the kraal and seemingly headed toward the football field (at the rear of the ambush position). They quickly roused the other members and, as soon as the insurgents, later estimated at over 30, were in the open they sprung the ambush. The totally surprised insurgents bomb-shelled. Unfortunately, the MAG chose this moment to have a stoppage. Two insurgents were killed in the initial contact. Once reaching cover, the remainder returned fire, wounding both Seton-Rogers and Dongworth. They then decided to flee. Radio difficulties meant that no contact could be made for casevac until 0500 hours. Both casualties were taken to Umtali Hospital where their condition was assessed as not serious. At midnight on 22 January, Second Lieutenant G. Murdoch, Corporal R. J. Travers, Lieutenant A Thrush and Troopers W. R. Milliken and M. Shipton were on a track near a large kraal complex in the Mutasa North TTL near the Mozambican border. They had two officer cadets with them—R. Blaylock and A. Telfer. The path was flanked on both sides by wire fences and mielie fields. The patrol had moved into the area on a mission to carry out the kidnapping of an insurgent contact man in the kraal. As they waited just off the path for first light they saw four insurgents walking in single file along the

path, heading for the border. The patrol set up an immediate ambush and when the insurgents approached they opened up, fatally wounding the second insurgent as he came into the killing ground. The first insurgent, as if triggered by a switch, took off toward the border. The last two, with similar reactionary speed, ran back the way they had come. The patrol now moved behind some decent cover at the rear of their original position. Here they were, unbelievably, challenged by what looked to be a civilian from the nearby kraal. They replied to the effect that they were security forces. Apparently still disbelieving what he was told the man persisted in maintaining the challenge. The patrol opened fire and killed him. On closer examination he turned out to be an insurgent. Two AKMs were recovered as well as a Tokarev pistol and an RPG-7 with three rockets. All weapons were handed in to SB Rusape. At first light on the morning of 26 January, an OP sited on the border of the Chikore and Tanda TTLs (Inyanga North area) saw a group of between 15 to 20 insurgents in a dwala (large rock formation/outcrop) traversed by ancient terracing and covered by dense jesse bush. Fireforce was deployed from Grand Reef—one and a half hours flying time to the target area. Arriving overhead, Stop 1 (Corporal Trevor Hodgson) RV’d with a member of the OP who indicated where they had last seen the enemy. As the OP member was being uplifted to be returned to his call sign the helicopter came under accurate enemy fire—from which it was able to pinpoint the insurgent position. Stop 1 was approximately 200 metres from the camp at that time. Hodgson quickly and immediately led his stick up through the thick jesse and on to the hilltop to assault the camp. There was an intense fire fight during which the insurgents, realizing they were cornered, tried to use the ancient terracing for concealment but fought back tenaciously when discovered. They also set up a strange grenade/anti-aircraft device which one of their number tried to detonate and was killed in the attempt. A total of eight insurgents were killed here and one captured-wounded. Meanwhile, Stop 3, a hundred metres east of the camp, had a contact with an insurgent who was obviously running from the camp area. He was killed. Above Stop 3 the orbiting K-car spotted two insurgents and opened up on them, killing one and wounding the other who was then captured by the stop. Ten AKs and two SKSs were recovered. The members of the three participating stop groups are named and shown here:

Stop 1 725082 728071 102908 727293

Cpl T. G. Hodgson Tpr. R. B. Bratt Rfn. I. M. van Rooyen Tpr. B. O’Connell-Jones

FN MAG FN FN

Stop 2 726946 727379 106852 727320

L/Cpl. S. G. Godley. Tpr. D. G. Mackenzie Rfn. S. J. Hodgson. Tpr. R.W. Prusa

FN MAG FN FN

Stop 3 725860 111511 111540 103852

L/Cpl. C. Gallagher Rfn. P. W. du Plooy Rfn. L. J. L. da Silva Rfn. G. D. Harrison

FN MAG FN FN

Exactly one week later, on 1 February, the same stop groups were back in action when they were deployed to a sighting of a group of some 15 insurgents in the broken hilly country of the Makoni TTL. The OP reported the insurgents as being based up in a cave in one of the dwalas/rock outcrops. The stops were deployed and positioned in sunlight but also in a very heavy rainstorm. Stop 2 (Lance-Corporal Simon Godley) found a fresh feeding place for between ten and 15 insurgents. While Godley led his men in a sweep around the camp the concealed enemy opened up on them, killing Trooper D. G. Mackenzie, the MAG gunner. Stop 1 (Corporal Hodgson) and Stop 4 (Lance-Corporal Swan) came up and joined Stop 2. They formed a sweep line through the rock outcrops, capturing nine women. As they progressed, the enemy fired on them again, wounding Trooper O’ConnellJones. The stops had now located the enemy cave and pulled back to let the K-car come up and ‘rev’ the cave. This had no effect. Stops 1 and 2 then covered the cave entrance while Stop 4 moved to the rear of the cave and into a position where they could see three insurgents. They opened fire and killed all three. These three proved to be a ‘delaying’ team who had stayed

behind to allow the main group to escape. Two of them were young while the third, and older man, appeared to be the experienced insurgent. They had made no attempt to escape, having decided to fight it out. Two AKs and an SKS were recovered and handed over to SB Rusape. Jimmy Swan remembers the contact: … We were ambushed by quite a large number of gooks as we were chasing them after finding warm sleeping quarters. We were in extended line. Simon Godley was next to me and 8 Troop with Trevor Hodgson on the other side. When they ambushed us all hell broke loose and Mackenzie and O’Connell-Jones went down immediately with head shots and the gooks kept firing at them. We took a lot of flak from close range. Everyone was screaming and swearing. They threw stick grenades and the bullets and shrapnel just kept flying non-stop. These guys were hard core and wanted us dead. We could not see them but I found myself in the killing ground with the two bodies. We were only about six or seven metres from the gooks. The grenades were landing close by and we were pulling a lot of air. It somehow made sense that we should rush them. By now we had a feeling that it was the hard core that had stayed behind and the rest had fled. They had us pinned down and were in some kind of a cave, but somehow would not die. I looked at my MAG gunner, Jannie Gloss, who was excellent, and we told the other guys to stop shooting so we could charge the gooks. It seemed like the only option open to us. As we went round the rock at pace in a crouch and sh*tting ourselves, we saw they were down a hole. They got such a fright that they were firing wildly all around us and we just stood there and fired and fired and ran into this cave-type thing and finished them off. Never have I had so much fire directed at me and come out unscathed, although I was covered in frag shrapnel and bits of rock and dirt. These guys had extra magazines and grenades and had a cave full of ammo. That was their plan—to fight to the end and give us what for. The rest of their group had escaped. We killed five in total but lost two of our own, or so we thought at the time. That scene changed me forever and I went into another plane after that … Jimmy Swan was awarded the MFC for his part in this contact.

Frelimo attack the Forbes border post Since the border between Mozambique and Rhodesia had been closed in 1976, there was much sabre-rattling from the agitated and aggressive Frelimo

troops who were openly in cahoots with ZANLA, and therefore clearly seen as the enemy by the Rhodesians. Jimmy Swan recalls an incident on the border: … 2 Commando was spread out across the Honde valley and 3 Commando was on Fireforce at Grand Reef. Umtali had recently been stonked with 120mm mortar fire from over the border and ZANLA gooks were swarming in the Honde and saturating the entire eastern border area. Intelligence sources indicated there was a strong possibility of further attacks on the town of Umtali from across the border. The local Indep company was based at the Forbes border post and 35 men from 7 and 8 Troops relieved them as Frelimo was getting belligerent. Our role was to defend the border and try and get as much information about what weapons and artillery were positioned on the opposite ridge in Mozambique. In support was the Rhodesian artillery with their 25 pounders. At the border post we used the roof of the Customs building as an OP and gun emplacement and bunkers were built near the forward fences where we had established permanent gun and mortar positions. It was a morning ritual for us to climb on the roof and, on cue, drop our shorts and give the Freds (Frelimo) a ‘brown eye’. They would be looking at us through their binos and would give us plenty of abuse. Clearly they lacked a sense of humour.

A typical kraal scene—with their prized portable gramophone.

A captured female ZANLA guerrilla is flown out after a 2 Commando contact in the Sabi TTL. Five women guerrillas were killed in this action.

Dakotas in formation. These trusty warhorses did sterling service during the conflict. Many were of World War II vintage, with one Dak having reputedly dropped troops at Arnhem.

A 2 Commando MAG gunner Tpr Coleshaw (crouched) fires a burst of clearing fire during a Fireforce contact.

An Alouette touches down delicately in a tight LZ during a Fireforce action. RLI troops were continuously amazed by the skills of the 7 Squadron pilots.

A G-car loaded up with a stick of 3 Commando troops at Grand Reef and ready for action.

2 Commando move into Op Repulse. Here the convoy stops to regroup at Birchenough Bridge, across the Sabi River.

2 Commando convoy coming into Umtali down Christmas Pass. Pictured here are Tprs. Giblin (with balaclava) and Anderson.

The eastern border town of Umtali, which suffered sporadic, but generally ineffectual, mortar attacks from Frelimo and ZANLA troops across the border.

Mortar pit—defences at Grand Reef.

RLI paras on board the ubiquitous DC-3 Dakotas. The men are wearing the original ‘bone dome’ helmets, which, because of Rhodesia’s scarcity of resources, were in fact ordinary motorbike helmets. They were unpopular with the troops as they could not be used in combat because they covered the ears. Proper para helmets were introduced at a later stage.

The 1 Commando assistant dispatcher pictured standing is Ken Daly. Ian Scott is the officer foreground right.

View from the door as the paras approach Chimoio, Op Dingo. The Daks flew in at treetop level to avoid enemy radar.

Ian Scott (moustached) and Neil Jackson are the two officers foreground right.

3 Commando’s Tpr. Alex Nicholls, Sgt. Tony Coom and Tpr. Jerry Stander, pictured here with their Bergen packs, ready for a recce mission into Zambia.

A studio portrait of L/Cpl. Jimmy Swan (2 Commando). The scars on his left cheek are a result of shrapnel wounds incurred during the Frelimo attack on the Forbes Border Post near Umtali.

Scotsman Pete Donnelly, wounded with 3 Commando during Op Dingo. Always with a sharp wit, Donnelly is here pretending to address an officer.

Major Jerry Strong BCR, OC 3 Commando.

2 Commando’s finest: Lt. Graham Murdoch (left) and Sgt. Trevor Hodgson, both holders of the Bronze Cross.

Charlie Warren BCR, seen here in an assistant dispatcher role marshalling paras prior to emplaning.

RLI troops hustle captured ZANLA guerrillas onto an Alouette.

A Vampire takes off from Grand Reef.

MAG gunner Barry Hahn (2 Commando) aboard an Alouette.

An Alouette disgorges its troops.

An assortment of captured ZANLA RPD, SKS carbines and AK-47s

The chopper tech’s view from a G-car.

The chopper tech’s view from the K-car. The 20mm Hispano cannon played a major role in the Fireforce arsenal.

The fearsome K-car 20mm cannon, which wreaked havoc on the ZANLA cadres during Op Dingo. It was also responsible for many of the 3 Commando friendly casualties. In the heat of battle, it was sometimes difficult for the helicopter gunners to distinguish friend from foe.

A Dakota en route to Chimoio, flying at treetop level.

11 Troop, 3 Commando’s Boetie Pennekan (South African) is the MAG gunner pondering the forthcoming Fireforce action out of Grand Reef.

Paras billow earthward near Grand Reef. From the height in this picture, it would appear to be a training jump.

A Dakota ‘waits out’ at Grand Reef.

His two treasured possessions.

A typical kraal in the rural areas.

Painitings by John Wynne Hopkins

Recruits’ Course:

Recruits take time out to chat to a local during the arduous ‘120-miler’ endurance march.

Above and below: Abseiling training at Domboshawa, near Salisbury.

The ‘120-miler’: Recruits ensure they are drinking upstream of where the local buses are getting a wash.

Recruits take a smoke break on the side of the road during the ‘120-miler’.

Grand Reef, Umtali. 3 Commando soldiers assist medics and Air Force personnel load casualties onto a Dakota for evacuation to Andrew Fleming Hospital in Salisbury. Hugh McCall is central, Frank Neave

over his left shoulder and Chris co*cks bending at right.

Warrant Officer Gordon Thomas, Air Force casevac team, administers to a casualty on board an Alouette III.

A Rhodesian Army Medical Corps nurse in the lab.

Tpr. Tom Brassen (2 Commando) administers a drip to a wounded guerrilla after a contact.

A captured ZANLA guerrilla is given urgent medical attention by Support Commando troops on the apron at Grand Reef.

RLI medics ‘Doc’ Webster and George Dempster outside the MSU, the Mobile Surgical Unit.

Dead ZANLA guerrillas and their weapons.

The Freds knew we were aware of their threat and yet they kept strengthening the gun positions on the opposite hill. They were truly digging in. The border post was surrounded by very thick bush, easy to hide in if you had the guts to sneak across the border and do a recce. One night, Trevor Hodgson, Ronnie Travers, Surge and a couple more infiltrated Mozambique on foot to try and gather information. We went part way with them to support them in case of compromise. It was a night-long op and was very dangerous as there were gooks everywhere. But they came back at dawn none the worse for wear and with some useful int. The subsequent Frelimo attack was so unexpected, so furious and so well organized that we were caught totally by surprise. The guys on guard duty had not seen the gooks sneak up through the thick bush and prepare the assault. They hit us from three sides. The attack was initiated with an RPG-7 rocket right into the building, which blew me clean off my feet and resulted in my facial injury. I remember coming round with Ronnie sitting over me, firing his rifle furiously and trying to assist me at the same time. Blood gushed as he stuffed a field dressing over my face. My jaw was shattered and my tongue torn severely. My face was split open. Facial wounds bleed profusely and there was concern as to how to evacuate me. Still inside the building and under a barrage of fire, the border post was alive with rifle shots and explosions. Our men returned fire effectively and killed some of the gooks running into the killing ground. Their artillery began shelling our position, but it appeared Umtali was the primary target. In a flash our big guns retaliated, which quickly silenced their heavies. Basically, I was trying to take care for myself, but I couldn’t see because of the blood and beside, I’m sure I was in shock—so my efforts were pretty ineffective. My mates were too busy returning fire. It seemed the barrage would never end—the splinters and cracks as the bullets thudded into the walls, the thump of mortars. Ronnie called for a casevac but the request was refused until things calmed down. The battalion padre, Bill Blakeway, was visiting us at the time and sat with me, comforting me. He knew I was losing too much blood and that he had to get me out. He also knew that the gooks were infiltrating the fences.

Still under fire, he dragged me to the back door and into his Land Rover. He started it up and he drove at speed. Somehow I still had my weapon for support but it was useless as I had a towel stuffed over my face as the field dressings were sopping with blood and had run out. He got me to the local hospital where they did immediate transfusions and stitched me up. I was dressed in the normal flimsy RLI combat kit of T-shirt and shorts but still with full AK webbing and my rifle. I’m told that as I was walked into the hospital people fled at the sight of me. One of the nurses struggled to get my weapon away from me and had to literally prise it from my grasp. I don’t remember very much. Apparently there were no further casualties on our side that day, thanks mainly to our artillery which hammered the enemy. I was back with 2 Commando before I was eating solids. The RLI padre was decorated for his bravery, the same padre who officiated at my wedding two years later, with Howie Pascoe, the 2 Commando medic, as best man …

3 Commando in Operation Thrasher At dawn on 15 September, a Selous Scouts OP, sited near the Nyangadzi River west of Weya, reported the sighting of some ten insurgents being fed by locals. Fireforce deployed to the area which consisted of open farmland cultivation fringed by thick bush in which the insurgents were based. Arriving overhead, Jerry Strong in the K-car spotted the insurgents, distinctive in their new blue-denim clothing, intermingling with locals in an area of rocky outcrops. A smoke canister was dropped in their midst and they scattered. The K-car engaged them immediately while Stops 1 and 2 were dropped south and north of the target respectively. Strong wrote: … Paras dropped to the west of the contact area and linked up with Stop 2 to conduct the sweep. At least four terrs killed by K-car and the Lynx dropped two Frantans into the area of rocky outcrops, which immediately started a series of fires which burned out the area quickly due to the wind. Two terrs surrendered to Stop 1 after the Frantan drop. During the sweep a further two AFAs surrendered to Stop 2, and Banana 1 killed a further two terrs trying to escape. A lot of ammo was exploding in the fires and unfortunately a 60mm bomb exploded, injuring Trooper M. E. Wentzel. The sweep line came under fire when the operation was almost over, from a lone terr who also fired a rifle grenade at the K-car that subsequently killed

him. Blood spoor was found crossing the river; this was followed-up but lost. The K-car had fired approximately 200 rounds. The Lynx fired two Frantan plus a smoke rocket. Trooper Wentzel was casevaced to Mtoko … Six AKs, one SKS and one 60mm mortar were recovered and handed over to the SB rep Weya.

A gunner gets hit Craig Bone remembers the day he nearly lost his life: … It was known thereafter as ‘The Ridge’. The guys in 11 Troop even had T-shirts made with those words put on. The ridge was a low-lying, raised feature about 30 miles inside Mozambique. My soldiering abruptly ended there. 3 Commando had been tasked with ambushing a road leading from a gook camp to the nearest town. RAR led the attack up the road and we were going to rev the reaction force and any escaping terrs. It was midday and I had just finished my stint at the side of the road. I had to leave my MAG and take my relief’s FN. After carrying the gun for months, it was like taking away my spear and giving me a kitchen knife! Somewhat disgruntled, I walked the short distance to my bivvy. I squatted down beside a fellow gunner and laid down the borrowed rifle. He had a brew going. I sat listening to the cicadas and watched the silent movement of the bush around me. I had repaired my veldskoene [suede bush shoes] with some para cord and I pulled at the knot for the tenth time and marvelled at my innovative skills.

The first thump of the mortar buffeted the air around me. I looked across at the gunner who looked back with the same dumb expression. Two more thumps went off, close by. This time I understood. I dived for the gun but the gunner was there first. “It’s mine!” he shrieked. I lay flat. You do that— instinct tells you to freeze till you know what the hell’s going on. All around there was thumping and rifle fire. Guys were running. I felt panic. I had a backpack full of belts and I had one magazine in the FN. I knew to wait for Lieutenant Smith to take control. Suddenly, it was as though God had picked me up with an unseen hand and thrown me back down on the ground. I was winded and on my back. I remember feeling nothing. If you’ve ever been punched hard on the head— it’s the same feeling. You enter the twilight zone. Everything slows and your mind stumbles around in the dark trying to process the unknown. After a few seconds, a wave of reality seeps back. I squinted back at the hot African sun above me. I seemed to be surrounded by a fine brown mist. As the dust settled, feeling returned to me. I felt a funny sensation in my leg. It was as if a warm wet towel had been placed over my right shin. I looked down—it looked like two dead brown roses had been glued to my leg. There was no pain but I knew I had been hit. I lay back and looked back up at the blue sky. I felt calm and in control. Above the din of the fire fight I heard my commander shouting, “Bone, bring the gun! Bring the gun!” I yelled back, “I can’t sir. I’ve been hit!” “Bone, the gun!” came the call again. I heard someone shouting at Roddy Smith. After a moment Roddy called to me, “Bone, you alright?” “Yes sir, I’ve been shot. I’m okay.” I remember my medic’s lessons. Shock kills. I had to stay calm. Paul Furstenburg, an old-time soldier ran over to me. He was our medic. “Craig, you alright?” I smiled at him, “Furburger, you better put some muti into me.” He smiled back. “You’re gonna be okay, choppers are coming.” That was a relief—going out we had been told that choppers would only come in if we had fifty percent casualties. Suddenly little puffs of dust jumped up all around us. “sh*t!” Furstenburg ran back to the safety of the big trees. I heard later that a gook gunner had us visual and was trying to finish us off.

Now there comes a stage in life when some people have a religious or spiritual experience. I was lying in the open, slowly bleeding to death and had bullets landing all around me. A wave of peaceful serenity came over me. I folded my arms and smiled. I knew then that I would not be hit again, that I would live and that my soldiering days were over. The Boss upstairs was sending me a message. I had to fulfil my mission in life and paint. In my spirit was the soldier but my destiny lay in a gentler activity. Furstenburg came running back with the morphine and a drip. He looked nervous, he was shaking. “Paul,” I said. “Easy man!” He looked at me with his clear blue eyes. “It’s not this sh*t man it’s the bees … I’m allergic!” Then I looked down and saw the bees buzzing around attracted by the moisture. I smiled again and waited for the morphine to kick in. I could now hear the rhythmic beat of the helicopters coming in and the heavy thump of the K-car’s cannon silencing the ridge. It’s funny what you remember most about the important times in you life. The next most vivid recollection I have of my casevac was a few hours later. I lay stretched out on the back bench of the Alouette. It was around seven in the evening and I was at New Sarum in Salisbury. I must have been knocked out because I woke up alone with my head facing up to a blackened sky. I knew I was still on Earth because it was drizzling and my face was getting wet. There was no sound and nobody around. After about ten minutes, I saw the dark shape of someone walking nearby. “Excuse me,” I called out. The man came over. “What’s up?” he asked. I had no idea what rank he was “Sir, you know I’m still here?” I remember thinking, typical Blues—they probably knocked off and will return after a big breakfast in the morning. The man laughed, “Yes Craig Bone, we know you’re still here. We’re just waiting for clearance to fly you in.” Months later, I presented a painting to 7 Squadron. I thanked Mick Delport, Mike Borlace and others for getting me out. I have no regrets. Only a profound love and respect for anyone who was a Rhodesian and in his heart, still is. This is a song we used to sing to the Inyanga hills every morning before trout fishing:

Here I stand, beer in hand A product of my native land I cast my eyes up to the skies And with a husky voice I cry Rhodesia—you bloody beauty! When I finally woke up I was alone in a single room in ward B4. My leg was in heavy plaster and I could see my pinkies. Thank God, I thought. I was in a starched operating gown. I looked at my arms; my original skin colour had returned. I had just spent two and a half weeks sweating every day in the same shirt and shorts and had layer upon layer of camo paint plastered on top, must have smelt like old road kill. I had been washed from head to toe. How come you’re never awake when the good things happen to you? I could imagine four pretty maidens giggling or drawing lots to see who was lucky enough to wash which part of the naked god lying before them. A firm voice from the corner pulled me from my fantasy. My maiden stood up; I had seen her brother on WWF. She lumbered over to the foot of the bed. She felt my toes. With her size and weight she could have finished off what the gooks had started. In the thick Sinoia High Afrikaans accent she dutifully announced that I was awake and disappeared. The young sister appeared—I hoped she was producing my khaki shorts as proof of her part in the plot. She was lovely. She explained that the doctors had slapped on some wound paste, nailed it down with a couple of two by fours and bound it together with duct tape. I liked her humour. After the mombe [cow], this was like an angel from heaven. The next few days were taken up with an extensive medical examination which entailed feeling my toes and taking my temperature. People arrived every day—my folks, my brother, my best friend and my girlfriend (who later became my wife). They all knew me. I probably had a register going. When it was quiet the pretty sister would talk to me. She started leaving my mail at the end of the bed to motivate some sort of movement in me. I would just leave it there and tell her the letters were from people too idle to see me so I didn’t want to read them anyway. She gave in and eventually had to open them and read them. Bone one—hospital nil. One day she really let it out. She hated the war; the young people coming in with broken bodies. I was nodding and looking beyond her with the first of my many 20-mile stares. This was only because she was holding my hand. Then she dropped the

clanger. It was all God’s fault. He caused this war. He made women blow a gasket every month. He gave them a sweet spot that only a coal miner could find. Jeez! And I thought I had problems! A week after my admission I had my first run-in with the authorities at the hospital. Just my luck, when it came to injection time, this fat, first-year male student came into my room. He had rosy-red wobbly cheeks and moist blue eyes. He held up the needle and squirted some medicine out. After this phallic gesture was completed he pulled back my sheets. “Roll over,” he squeaked. Because I was wearing a theatre gown my rear was exposed to him. I felt the prick touch me (in both senses of the word). Then pain, an explosion of it. I spun around screaming at him “What the f*ck do you think you’re doing you little sh*t! Piss off!” The fat little man ran out. I felt like a dog had bitten me. I was mad. A ward sister came rushing in and started her prepared verbal assault. I was shaking. I screamed at her, “You keep that little sh*t away from me, you hear!” She exited. A full five minutes later I could hear the sweep line forming down the corridor. They were going to rush me and hold me down and the autopsy would have decided it was natural causes. But my god-hating angel appeared. She floated over beside me, her scent and soft eyes forming a human shield. She studied the site where the male nurse had tried to penetrate me. I had a shrapnel wound, entry and exit holes, going in and out of my left cheek. Little boy blue hadn’t seen this. The soft red lips parted “Craig, can we give you something for the pain?” I knew they were busy decanting bottles of tranquillizers as we spoke. My thought of getting Charlie Warren in with his bayonet to educate the male nurse was still with me. I nodded and set my stare at two-and-half miles—I was getting better. I whispered to her, “But only if you give it to me orally.” She smiled and winked and patted my thigh. I was in love. I know there is a medical term for it. The next few days were bit hazy. After my ‘course’ I started thinking clearly again. One of the nurses complained quietly to me about the Catholic priest who was doing the rounds. He would burst in when the curtains were drawn around the female patients. Under the pretence of saving you he was behaving like a pervert. And the nurses were disgusted by him. I asked the nurse to change my chart from Anglican to RC. A day later, in walked the man of cloth. I had been to a Catholic school and knew his type well. Get his confidence. I finished my first meeting by explaining that I felt bad because I had probably killed a few of my buddies—how could I live with myself. I

wanted to marry someone who looked like my mom. And my sister was also in hospital suffering from depression. Then finally there was a very private matter that I needed counselling and guidance on. I slowly gained his trust and I made him know of the rewards I had gained from the newly found spiritual strength. There is also another word for patients who find solace in the Lord when they nearly get creamed. A week later the Pavlov hound came bounding in straining at the leash. This was the day my terrible secret would be revealed. I signalled him closer. My nurse confidante was just outside cleaning the light switch. I held him by the wrist and he bent lower. “Father,” I mumbled, “I have hate in my heart. I want to catch the little sh*t who keeps walking in on my sister,” and held him tight. I raised the tempo and told him I had six of the biggest commando guys waiting outside. When I released him, the man fled. The nurses were ecstatic. Problem solved. A couple of weeks later I was prepped for theatre. I had not eaten or drunk anything for hours. Mark Pilbeam was ahead of me and he took longer than they thought. I was dying of thirst. I looked around and opposite from me was a trolley of flowers. When no one was looking I pushed my trolley off the wall and banged into the flowers. I chose the biggest vase, tipped the flowers out and drank all the water. I rammed the flowers back in. I probably honked all over the doctors. One result—I now can’t stand the smell of roses. A couple of days later a little flower arrangement arrived. I decided that this gift would stay with me till I left hospital. When they died some idiot threw them in a bin. I freaked out. I put on my para helmet and screamed that these flowers had been given to me by my gran who had just died, probably heartbroken because of my demise. When the reaction stick arrived back with my dead flowers and cups of pills I lay back with my hand on my vase and my eyes focused about five miles distant. For four months my vase came in and out. Bone two—hospital nil. I was moved to the plastic surgery ward of C4. My bed was wheeled there. I sat with my para helmet on and whistled landing mortar rounds. I clutched my vase. It was there that I nearly met my match. The sister in charge was Sister T. She was like a drill sergeant. But she worked hard and made more beds than the nurses. I glared at her under my helmet. She told me she kept a tight ship and would stand no nonsense. Yeah, but I was no idiot; I was a trained killer and I had lots of time on my hands. We almost shook hands and agreed to a fair fight.

I parried with her a bit, testing her out. I felt I wanted to convert to Judaism, had to have a cigarette. No bites. After a week I had the whole operation planned. I went for the throat. A young nurse had dropped a thermometer by mistake. When she dashed out to get a broom I dropped the end of my towel on a large piece and pulled it under my side table. That evening I asked my brother to get me some boiled sweets. Now every lunch break after eating we had the ward curtains drawn and we had an hour’s rest. But as we settled down we had out temperatures taken. I waited for the day that a not-so-nice nurse was doing the rounds and put my plan into action. The thermometer was duly placed in my mouth. I pretended to be nearly asleep. When the nurse came back to me she freaked out. I had a broken thermometer in my mouth and was crunching on the rest of it. She pulled the piece out and watched in horror as I began twitching and rolling my eyes. She ran out hysterically. A while later all was quiet—like sitting on death row. Sister T came slowly and methodically and stood at the end of the bed. “The army is coming to get you,” was all she said. Two hours later some staff oke arrived from Base Group. “Bone, you can’t be moved. They are really pissed. Just cool it, okay?” I nodded. Bone three—hospital nil. A month later I sent my forces in again. My legs were tied together with a cross flap. I knew I couldn’t be moved. It was Saturday morning. Young schoolgirls came in to do volunteer work to see if they wanted to be nurses. I pressed my buzzer and a pretty little filly came bounding over. Her keen sparkling eyes gave away her enthusiasm. She was playing nurse to a wounded soldier—and she could make him better and everyone would live happily ever after. I broke off my ten-mile stare. “I need to do a number one and a number two.” It was not a glamorous duty but off she scooted. She handed over the bed pan and a jug. After she pulled the curtains I did my business and pushed the buzzer. The young girl whisked back the curtain. I passed the bedpan to her. It was very heavy because it contained a brick with toilet paper wrapped around it. The jug was filled to the brim with orange juice. The poor girl staggered out, her legs bending under the weight. It wasn’t 20 seconds later that the bomb went off. I initially thought the girls were announcing an engagement. It sounded joyful and unreserved. It turned out that I had ruined the ward’s bedpan washing machine, the girl was inconsolable, and the troops were rallying. Some junior sister tried to read

me the riot act. I wasn’t listening, I was thinking about Monday morning when the RSM would come back. Sister T ignored me. The nurses shunned me. Even my doctor told me to behave myself. All I could do was lie undisturbed and practise my posttraumatic-stress-disorder-syndrome look. Bone three—hospital one. After a week there was still ice in the air. I decided that attack was the best form of defence. I sent in Delta. I waited until the morning of the medical officer’s rounds. He was due in at 10.00, mid-morning. At 8 o’clock, I pressed my buzzer. “I want to see Sister T.” As she arrived and stood glaring at me I began, “Sister, last weekend a child was sick in here. The nurses cleaned up as best they could but there is a bad smell in here.” She sniffed. There was a smell. The four beds were wheeled out and the floor scrubbed. Forty minutes later I pushed the buzzer again. The smell was still there and even seemed worse now that you were aware of it. This time beds, sheets, side tables—everything—was scrubbed. Just before 10.00, I pushed the buzzer again. But Sister T was doing the rounds, going from ward to ward with the MO. The man came in and like a harem the nursing staff fawned around him. He read my chart. “Trooper Bone, how’s everything here? Staff looking after you?” I looked into Sister T’s eyes. She was looking into my barrels, pleading. I sniffed deliberately “Doctor, this is a fine institution and everyone here has been so kind and caring.” Even I wanted to puke. But the medical officer didn’t know the politics. Sister T forced a small smile and looked visibly relieved. That afternoon the ward was thoroughly scrubbed again but the smell was even worse. Before visiting hours the woman looked beaten; if she had a bugle she would have ordered a retreat. When my friend arrived I had the screen pulled around me and I had the fermenting banana removed from the neon light above and behind me. Bone four—hospital one. I found out later that Sister T punished me by putting in very young, very senile or foreign-speaking misfits in with me. On one occasion, out of the four patients in our ward I was the only one with two eyes. I had a hockey player, a policeman and a farmer swapping glass nuggets before visiting hours. I found it difficult to sleep as one of them might creep up on me and put in my entry form to join the club. But in hospital I did a lot of thinking. I thought of all the characters in RLI. There were the tough fearsome types, the steady and gentle types—but to a man, they were brave, well disciplined and dedicated.

It was 20 years later I found myself in Key West, Florida, USA. I walked into the tattoo parlour holding a picture of our regimental badge. “For the last time, are you sure you want this?” the man asked. Over the passage of time my 30-mile stare had been reduced to a few feet. I focused on the mirror in front of me and I answered him, “Never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Support Commando in Operation Thrasher At this time, the OC was Major P. W. Armstrong and 2IC Captain Pieter Farndell. At mid-morning on 6 January, Selous Scouts c/s 91, operating in the Wedza TTL, called out Fireforce to the sighting of a group of eight insurgents on a rocky kopje near a kraal. After 30 minutes flying time the Fireforce arrived and was talked on to the target area by the Selous Scouts call sign. The Kcar, with Captain Piet Farndell on board, saw two insurgents near a dwala, crouching under a bush. As soon as the K-car engaged these two, several others broke cover from the same area. Two ran down the kopje to the kraal. They were chased by the K-car and both were brought down and killed. Stop 1, which had been dropped on the northeastern edge of the kopje, came under fire from an area of rocks. Trooper L. V. Landsdell was slightly wounded. They moved forward on the attack and had a fire fight in which they killed one insurgent. They were now joined by Stop 2. Both stops swept south along the ridge and were then halted by very heavy small-arms and RPD fire from an extremely aggressive group of insurgents who were in a wellprotected area of rocks and caves. The K-car came up to assist. Hovering a mere ten metres above the two stops it began to pour down fire on to the enemy position. Both stops, with supporting fire from the overhead K-car now resumed their advance … step by step. The sheer weight of their combined fire caused two insurgents to break cover from their cave. They were both killed by the stops. Stop 3, which had assaulted the feature from the west, now came under fire from the ridge. The K-car came over and, repeating its former manoeuvre, hovered over the stop and both moved forward together. This enabled Stop 3, after a grenade exchange, to close with the insurgent position and kill one insurgent. Three women were also killed. Stop 4, sweeping north from the kraal, had been fired on from the ridge and, returning fire, killed three civilians and wounded another. Stops 1

and 2, still sweeping along the ridge, again came under fire from an insurgent in a cave. Trooper Vaughn received minor shrapnel wounds to the stomach but like Lansdell did not require casevac. The concealed insurgent, in a constant exchange of fire lasting two and a half hours, repeatedly refused to surrender. He replied to each entreaty of surrender with a burst of automatic rifle fire. Finally with the cave surrounded, Stop 5 attacked the position and killed him, an incredibly brave fighter. The entire contact area was re-swept and at 1730 hours, Stops 1 to 4 were uplifted, leaving Stops 5 to 8 in ambush positions for the night. Two hours later, the ambushing stops killed an eighth insurgent when he attempted to exfiltrate the area. Later, intelligence confirmed that Farndell and his men had eliminated a whole group. Farndell later commented: ‘Two FN rifles had stoppages due to rounds lodging halfway up the barrels. All stops displayed determination and aggression throughout. A commendable performance by troops on the ground. The terrs showed determination and refused surrender. In fact a commendable performance by them.’ Farndell, a great stalwart of the RLI, has since joined ‘The Forward Recce’ (deceased). He is one of the few K-car commanders to note acts of courage displayed by the enemy, although the ground troops often acknowledged (and grudgingly saluted) enemy acts of bravery. Five AKs (one with folding butt), one SKS, one RPG-7, one Tokarev pistol and one 60mm mortar were recovered and handed in to SB Makamba. Selous Scouts call signs 91 and 91A called up Fireforce again six days later on 12 January to a sighting of 12 insurgents near a kraal in the Manyika TTL. Fireforce, with Farndell in the K-car, arrived overhead and were talked on to the target by the Selous Scouts OP. This in fact turned out to be a group of civilians. The only G-car available dropped Stop 1 on a rocky outcrop near the kraal and came under fire from enemy positions among the rocks. The stop deployed and returned fire immediately. The K-car observed five insurgents running northward to the cover of a large dwala. Farndell then ordered Stop 1 over to the dwala under covering fire from the K-car. Here the stop assaulted the enemy position, killing four and wounding and capturing another. The G-car meanwhile, working overtime, had ferried Stops 2, 3, 4 and 5 into the contact area where they were deployed as stops. Stop 3, in the west of the contact area, contacted an insurgent attempting to escape from the area and killed him. Farndell observed: ‘Although the result was fair, a Fireforce of 1 + 1 (one K-car and one G-car) is not a viable force with which to ensure maximum success.’ Armstrong, the OC, agreed.

On the morning of 24 January, a Selous Scouts OP noted what they took to be an insurgent feeding/resting place for six to eight near a river line in the southern Manyika TTL. This was actually a Selous Scouts ‘Frozen Area’. Fireforce, with Armstrong in the K-car, and the Lynx arrived overhead and stops were positioned. The stops swept toward the enemy base but progress was very slow due to the difficult terrain. A combined air and ground attack accounted for six insurgents. Two escaped, one of whom was wounded, but a follow-up was not possible as the area, as stated, was ’frozen’. At midday on 18 April, an OP (either Selous Scouts or RAR) called up Fireforce to the sighting of five insurgents at a school in the Sabi TTL of the Buhera District. Armstrong describes what followed: … The terrs were located in the school. One was killed in the school. Four terrs escaped and three were killed by K-car/stops on escaping and a further terr escaped. Among the terrs killed, one was a section commander. During the contact, four schoolchildren were tragically killed and approximately six to eight wounded when they fled, with a terrorist, toward a stop group. The stop group thought that the children were terrorists. One schoolteacher was also killed hiding in a classroom which was being cleared by troops. The terrs had also originally hid in this classroom. Terrs nos. 1 and 2 escaped and were engaged by the K-car and then killed by Stops 1 and 2. Terr no. 3 escaped with the children and was fired at by Stops 3 and 4 and .50mm Browning. Terr no. 4 escaped in the opening stages of the contact and fired on the helicopter carrying the K-car commander, after the K-car had to refuel, thus revealing his general position. Stops 9 and 10 were dropped to take care of him. He wounded the two stick commanders of these stops and Stop 11 was sent in to help out. The terr was finally forced to run by air strike and Frantan and 20mm cannon and was killed by the K-car. It is thought that the fifth terr escaped …

A tribute to a troopie In July, helicopter pilot Rex Taylor was on call-up with No. 7 Squadron in the eastern districts. He remembers the occasion in A Pride of Eagles: … The siren went and we attended the briefing. A bunch of terrs had been sighted. The sticks were already in the chopper when the stick leader and I arrived. Holding the pilot’s door open was a fair-haired young man wearing a huge grin. “Your men are ready for inspection, sir!” he said. “All ready to

go. If you have any problems just call me! We’ll look after you!” He was always the same. His humour was infectious. I would return his salute with mock ceremony but my attempts at repartee were never up to his cheerful greeting that always relieved the tension of the moment. My tech, Adrian Rosenberg, monitored the engine as it went through its starting cycle, and then made a circuit of the aircraft to check that all was okay before I engaged the rotors. While this was going on, the fair-haired troopie held my door open and pretended to scan the instruments, every now and again giving me a condescending nod of approval. As the rotors came up to speed, he closed my door and made some unheard comment that lip-read as, “Good show, sir. You’re okay to go now!” Then he leapt into the vacant seat behind me and gave me the thumbs-up sign. The smiles all round were reassuring. The gang we were about to engage had been active near Inyazura. They had evaded the security forces so far but now they were cornered on a huge granite outcrop, a geographic feature in the area. The initial assault took the gang by surprise, but a hard-core element was now holed up among the rocks of the kopje. The choppers having dropped the troops were no longer required, so we landed nearby and gathered round a VHF radio, listening intently. Shoulders drooped when we heard that the RLI commando had taken a casualty. There was no call for medics and we knew instinctively that a troopie had been killed.

Funeral of Tpr. G. Clarke KIA 15 May 1977 at the RLI chapel. Capt. Piet Farndell, 2IC Support Commando, clearly seen at right and 2Lt. Simon Willar on his right with Sgt. Jock McKelvie behind them.

Support Commando’s Mick Jeffreys, Hennie du Toit, ‘Johnny Boy’ Frei and Harry Whitehead sitting around waiting for Fireforce deployment.

Support Commando paras at Grand Reef. Harry Whitehead helps Mark Selby kit up. Note the 9mm Star sidearm.

Twenty minutes went by, the hard core had been winkled out and the troops were now sweeping the area for escapees. Overhead, the G-car circled, controlling the sweep. The radio barked: “Black 4, go to the lower slope and uplift a casualty.” That was me. Rosenberg and I started our chopper and landed near a small group of troopies standing around a silent bundle in a khaki sleeping bag. We were saddened, and cursed the senselessness of war. The soldiers lifted their lifeless comrade gently into the chopper. As they slid him in, the zipped-up sleeping bag opened to reveal the youthful face and rumpled fair hair of our happy cheerleader. My sorrow turned to tears. Head bowed, I avoided looking at Adrian as we flew our passenger home.

Soon we were back in the contact area, taking over temporarily as airborne control while one of the other choppers went to refuel. We were in orbit with the army major on board when we got a call from one of the sticks: “Trooper Barclay has heard that his brother Dave has been hit. Can you tell us how he is?” I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the major. There was a short pause, then the major’s reply, clear and concise: “He’s dead. I’m sorry.” The simplicity of those words may be hard to understand, but together with the pause before he spoke—and the sombre tone of voice, those four words conveyed more sorrow, sympathy and consolation than any padre could have done. Young Dave Barclay died a week before his 21st birthday. I never knew his name until his tragic death—now I shall remember it always …

1 Commando at Malvernia In happier days, the Rhodesian border/customs post at Vila Salazar in the Gona re Zhou National Park on the line of rail from Lourenço Marques to Rutenga had enjoyed a sleepy existence. The officials would fraternize with their Portuguese counterparts immediately opposite, affirming the friendship between the two countries. This goodwill was further confirmed when the Portuguese named their post Malvernia in honour of the Rhodesian Prime Minister, Lord Malvern. Returning the compliment the Rhodesians named their post Vila Salazar after the Portuguese leader. War arrived on the Rhodesians’ doorstep with the advent of a Frelimo government in 1975. By mid-1977 Vila Salazar had come under increasing mortar and small-arms fire from Frelimo troops based in Malvernia. The Rhodesians pondered how to respond effectively to this aggression. Marshall Ross writes: … One of the ideas proposed to ‘isolate and throttle’ Malvernia was to poison its water supply. The SAS had, we were told, studied this proposal and turned it down. The brigade commander, however, decided to go through with it. 1 Commando was chosen for the task. At that time, 1 Commando was split in two. I was with one half at FAF7 at Buffalo Range (near Triangle) where I was a stick leader as we were providing Fireforce for the Op Repulse area, alongside an RAR company. The other half was at Malapati—about 70 kilometres from Vila Salazar. From here, four sticks (16 men) were to go in and perform the sabotage. Ben Myburgh, a close friend, was one of them. He told me what happened.

They walked eight clicks on the map to get to the waterhole which was about five kilometres from Malvernia. Once arrived, they had to move very cautiously as there was very sparse cover because Frelimo had cut down most of the trees. They dropped the poison in and began to move off when a 40-man Frelimo water party with ten donkeys, all drum-laden, suddenly appeared. The men hastily took cover but the donkeys sensed them and played up. The enemy then saw them and opened up with a hail of intense fire that came so close that the patrol’s radio aerial was shot off. The troops returned fire. The enemy then fired at them with an RPG. Here they were even more accurate as one of the rockets actually hit Trooper Wayne Dwinger. By great good fortune it didn’t go off but made a big hole in his thigh. The troops pulled back, dragging Dwinger most of the way back to the border, under constant fire. They then were able to get the FOO (Forward Observation Officer) to call down artillery fire on the enemy. When Ben told me this story a week later he was still shaking. (Ben died in a car crash just after the war.) …

Operation Dingo—the attacks on Chimoio and Tembué Chimoio In August 1976, the Rhodesians decided that they were not simply going to sit back and continue ‘taking it’ from the enemy who were infiltrating the country from large bases in Mozambique. In that month, with great audacity, the Selous Scouts dressed in Frelimo uniforms, crossed the border into Mozambique in a motorized column and, in a surprise attack, drove right into the enemy base camp at Nyadzonya and opened fire on the thousands of unsuspecting and welcoming insurgents gathered on the parade ground, killing hundreds. From then on the Rhodesians would take the fight into the enemy camp—with fearsome results. They had seized the initiative and now it was the enemy’s turn to react. As a result of further Selous Scouts, SAS and RLI raids, the insurgents moved their larger base camps and training areas deeper into Mozambique, supposedly out of harm’s way. Their largest base camp was situated 90 kilometres from the Rhodesian border and 28 kilometres north of Chimoio (formerly Vila Pery) where Frelimo maintained its provincial military base. The camp was known as Chimoio/Vanduzi and an aerial photograph revealed that it was spread over a very large area. Here ZANLA felt themselves safe.

They were too far from the border and too close to a significant Frelimo camp for their Rhodesian enemies to even contemplate an attack. Besides, by June 1977 there were over 8,000 of them—not counting their Frelimo hosts and allies. And the number was growing. The idea that they could possibly be attacked here fell completely outside of the scope of their everyday thinking. This false sense of security was soon to be shattered. Aware of all this since late November 1976, two energetic and imaginative men—Group Captain Norman Walsh and the SAS’s Major Brian Robinson—set about devising an incredibly daring plan to attack and destroy Chimoio/Vanduzi and “all its contents”. The pair went even further. On the principle of ‘killing two birds with one stone’, Walsh and Robinson decided to include another major ZANLA base camp in their attack plan. This was Tembué, in the Tete Province, some 225 kilometres from the border and housing between 3,000 and 4,000 insurgents. The plan was code-named Operation Dingo and was to be a two-phased attack with the attack on Chimoio being Phase 1. The plan was so imaginative and daring in concept that the hierarchy at ComOps found it difficult to grasp. Walsh and Robinson had real difficulty in selling the plan to them. Group Captain Peter Petter-Bowyer, a participant in the operation, writes in his autobiographical Winds of Destruction: … General Walls and his ComOps staff attended a number of presentations at SAS HQ. These were made around large-scale models of the two targets. The operational proposals frightened those who listened because they were madly daring and very dangerous. Both proposals involved relatively straightforward air attacks that were to be followed with vertical envelopment by paratroopers and heli-borne forces. This was considered absolutely essential to ensure maximum results and to seriously disrupt ZANLA … Due to non-stop persistence by Walsh and Robinson, the operation was eventually given the go-ahead. The attack on Chimoio/Vaduzi (code-name Zulu 1) would take place on 23 November with the follow-up attack on Tembué (code-name Zulu 2) two days later on the 25th. By this time, the first camp had over 10,000 occupants, of which over 4,000 were fully trained and armed guerrillas. At Chimoio/Vanduzi the attack would be initiated with a Golf-bomb strike by two Hunters on ZANLA’s HQ building. This strike would mark the target area for the Alpha-bomb run by the four Canberra bombers 20 seconds later.

(Along with the Alpha bomb the Golf bomb had been designed by PetterBowyer’s Department of Plans of the Rhodesian Air Force. This was a fivefoot-long cylinder-shaped percussion bomb weighing about 1,000 pounds and which contained Amatol. It had a three-foot-long rod at the nose which hit the ground first and detonated the bomb. The explosion comprised some 100,000 fragments, lethal at 120 feet with a further accompanying stun effect over another 120 feet. A Mini-Golf bomb weighed about 170 pounds and was carried by light aircraft such as the Lynx. The Alpha bomb was a small, six-inch steel ball. Inside this was another ball in the shape of a tiny half-inch steel sphere, which was in effect a mini grenade. Between both balls some 240 rubber balls were squeezed. When the bomb hit the ground at a prescribed speed the tightly pressed rubber balls caused it to bounce and then travel through the air for about 60 feet. On the initial ground impact the tiny inner grenade’s fuse fired a cap which set off a delay of just over half of a second and then exploded when the bomb was ten feet above ground. The explosion sent one deadly piece of shrapnel per yard at a radius of 15 feet making it 50 percent more effective than the standard anti-personnel bomb. A Canberra carried 300 of them, in batches of 50 within six specially designed containers fitted in the bomb bay.) The infantry assault would be executed by 185 men. This consisted of ten RLI sticks—40 men of 2 Commando who would be deployed by helicopter and positioned in a stop line on the ridge along the northern side of the base —and 145 paratroops—48 from 3 Commando and 97 from the SAS who would be dropped to the south and west of the target area. The eastern flank would be covered by four K-cars. (The Rhodesian attacking force would be outnumbered by over 50 to one). Air support would consist of seven Hunters; four Canberras; four Vampires; seven Dakotas; one DC-8; one DC-7; four Lynx and 32 Alouette helicopters, made up of ten K-cars with double loads of 20mm ammunition, ten G-cars, ten reserve, a command helicopter and an Admin Base helicopter. The helicopter assembly point was at Lake Alexander, where the ten RLI sticks were positioned. With them were 16 men of Support Commando’s Mortar Troop; the admin area group along with 20 RLI protection troops (also from Nigel Henson’s Support Commando) and a helicopter recovery team. Ian Buttenshaw, 2IC Support Commando, was in charge of the admin area. Support Commando, in addition, formed the 48-paratroop reserve at

Grand Reef. The RLI provided a doctor and three medical orderlies for the operation. Buttenshaw recalls: … Setting up the admin area was a bit of a nightmare. We had one large hill on which I positioned the Mortar Fire Controller. It was about two kilometres from the main admin area, but had good views over the whole area. However, any small, determined band of terrs could have approached the admin area moving cautiously through the trees. On arrival, we established the 81mm mortar position—two tubes, about 50 rounds each, and also some very local sentries. However, no sooner had we arrived than Jack Malloch’s DC-8 arrived to drop Avtur fuel for the helis. This landed all over the admin area LZ area and in the trees. There were only about 25 of us there, so leaving one mortar manned and a Control Post Operator having established a Predicted DF (SOS) and a couple of DFs, it was all hands to recovering the fuel drums and positioning them so that the helis could land and refuel. We were still doing this when the first helis arrived, having dropped the troops. Basically, for the first two hours, local defence was non-existent, as refuelling and turning the helis around was the priority … The 145 attacking paratroops, 97 SAS and 48 men of Jerry Strong’s 3 Commando, would assemble at and depart from New Sarum Air Base in Salisbury. The overall military objective of Phase 1 was stated as: ‘To dislocate the ZANLA High Command at Vanduzi (Chimoio) camp codenamed Zulu 1’. As far as the ground troops were concerned their mission, in support of the air attack, was: a) killing and capturing the maximum amount of terrorists; b) intelligence gathering; c) destruction of enemy war matériel; and d) capture of selected enemy war matériel such as Strela (Russian SAM7 surface-to-air missile). The re-supply of all fuel and ammunition was to be from an admin base not far from the battle site. Petter-Bowyer, with the small Support Commando protection force, was to be the commander of the admin base for both the Chimoio and Tembué attacks. It would be his important duty to co-ordinate movement in and out of these re-supply bases. The attack itself would be preceded by a clever ruse. H-Hour for the attack was to be 0730 on 23 November, the time when the maximum amount of enemy would be out in the open, preparatory to attending muster parade. Walsh had, however, cunningly arranged for a DC-8 jetliner (owned by Jack Malloch, Rhodesia’s premier sanctions-buster) to overfly Chimoio/Vanduzi

ten minutes before the attack. This would alert the occupants into scurrying for cover. On realizing it was merely a harmless over-flying civilian aircraft they would re-emerge and resume their pre-mustering activity on the parade ground. They would then be totally un-alarmed and unprepared for the real air attack shortly thereafter. Walsh and Robinson would direct and command the battle itself from the command helicopter piloted by Walsh. Because Chimoio/Vanduzi was spread over 18 complexes the most important were designated as air-target areas. Complex H, the HQ building would be the first priority at H-Hour as already stated. The second H-Hour priority was Complexes M, C, D and B, which included Parirenyatwa Camp housing 1,200 insurgents—700 male and 500 female, and Chaminuka Camp housing 500 Chinese-trained insurgents, plus Nehanda Camp with an unknown number of occupants. There might be a ‘bonus kill’ here as Robert Mugabe was accommodated in this area when visiting. The command helicopter would be in communication with the command Dakota carrying General Walls which would be cruising along the border at some altitude. To achieve the vital element of surprise timing was of the essence. Even if this was achieved the planners knew that their very competent but totally outnumbered ground troops would need every bit of close air support they could get. After the Canberras had dropped their loads on the target the Hunters and Vampires would scream in on all allocated targets, using front guns, Frantan and rockets. At just about this time, if the timing sequence worked as hoped for, the six Para-Daks from New Sarum would be arriving. Three would drop their troops along the camp’s southern flank while the other three would execute the same manoeuvre down the western flank. Hard on their heels would be the ten G-cars positioning their ten 2 Commando sticks along the camp’s northern perimeter. The four K-cars would be covering the eastern flank. The enemy in the main camp would thus be boxed in. The remaining six K-cars for their part would attack allocated targets and insurgents in the sprawling complex of lesser camps west of the main camp. This, in essence, was the plan. What follows is the execution. At 0700 hours c/s 83 (helicopter assembly area) relayed the following to c/s 78 (HQ): “Heli assembly area established,” and at 0720 hours followed it up with “Heli assault wave crossing now.” Operation Dingo had begun. At 0745, Squadron Leader Rich Brand (Red Section) and Vic Wightman attacked with the Hunters: “Going in … on target.”

Brand shot up the ZANLA HQ building with his 30mm cannons and Wightman struck the same target with his Golf bombs. Behind them came Squadron Leader Randy du Rand’s four Canberras which, guided by the exploding Golf bombs, opened their bomb doors and dropped 1,200 Alpha bombs. These bombs, with a planned cover area of over a kilometre in length and half a kilometre in width, engulfed the huge ZANLA gathering on the parade ground and beyond. It was 0748 hours. “All Reds and Greens on target.” The Para-Daks were overhead and dropping their troops from 500 feet. Call signs 1 and 2 were RLI, call signs 3, 4, 5 and 6 SAS. The ten G-cars had dropped their ten 2 Commando sticks call signs Alpha to Juliet, referred to collectively as Stops Alpha, in dead ground to the west of the ridge north of the camp. They quickly moved up and into position on top of the ridge. Ian Buttenshaw records that the RLI battalion commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Rich, actually went in with a 2 Commando HQ stick and operated behind the commando stop line (where his son Michael was a troop commander). He had no overall control but was able to co-ordinate RLI movements on the ground and get the feel of the battle so as to pass on to the airborne commanders in the K-cars. Rich later recorded: ‘It must also be a record for father and son to have been under fire together lying a few feet apart during an external operation. I was saddened to see, however, as an old shottist that my son tended to snatch the trigger!’ Pandemonium now reigned. In the camp it was every man for himself as the surviving occupants ran for their lives to escape the death pouring out of the skies. Paratroopers found themselves landing into crowds of fleeing humanity consisting of armed and unarmed insurgents and civilians. They unharnessed as quickly as possible. There was no time to regroup into sticks. Each man simply engaged running targets at will and at point-blank range while attempting, at the same time, to visually locate his stick mates or other friendly forces. They killed hundreds. However, there was some retaliation despite the absolutely devastating shock of the initial strike. Some of the braver enemy anti-aircraft gunners actually ran to their emplacements and manned their weapons, firing at the slow-moving Para-Daks and the descending paras. Small-arms fire was also directed at the aircraft. Gradually the para assault line assumed formation and the troops on the stick extremes, namely 1 to 24, indicated stick locations with white phosphorus. By 0810 hours, c/s 9 (Robinson) had contacted all stop groups

and confirmed everything okay. K-car 3 reported heavy small-arms fire from a large number of insurgents west of Complex L which consisted of about 70 pole and dagga (mud) structures laid out in rows forming a box shape. These were reputed to house some 400 convalescing insurgents. Fire was also emanating from Complexes P and Q—one, a large, open-sided building along with 30 pole and dagga structures, housed an underground fuel dump and ammunition store—the other consisted of about 90 pole and dagga huts. A Hunter strike was called for on both areas. A large breakout was also seen heading toward SAS Stops 4, 5 and 6. They ran into a wall of fire. Some tried to run through it, others tried to fight through it—all to no avail. In desperation the mass turned about and fled in the opposite direction only to find themselves boxed in. The terrifying din of the battle was absolutely deafening by now. K-car 4 asked for a Hunter (Red 2) strike on Complex T—33 large barrack huts and 43 smaller ones housing up to 1,000 ZANLA recruits and 25 instructors. Two minutes later, K-car 3 requested a re-strike on the same target and on a large camp northwest of it. K-car 2 meanwhile was getting ‘heavily revved’ (fired at) as it engaged Complexes D, C and B. By now most aircraft had sustained hits. Petter-Bowyer writes: … K-car pilots and gunners arriving to refuel and re-arm reported that they were having a tough time with high volumes of small-arm and anti-aircraft gunfire and more targets than they could handle. Flight Lieutenant Mark McLean, who had taken early retirement from the Air Force, was on call-up for Op Dingo. Sporting a beard he would not have been allowed to wear in regular service, he landed and removed his shattered bone dome (helmet). The graze and large swelling above his right eye bore witness to how close he had come to death from a vertical bullet strike that had torn a section out of his protective helmet. As with Mark’s aircraft, every other K-car had taken many small- and large-calibre strikes, but none too serious to keep them from returning to the fray … The command helicopter was hit so badly Walsh was obliged to clear to the admin base and borrow another. At 0822 hours, a radio intercept gleaned the reaction of the nearby FPLM (Frelimo Army) at Chimoio as it advised all stations that the ZANLA camp was being bombed and that all exits were to be controlled. Thirteen minutes later they decided to inform the capital Maputo that the ZANLA camp had been attacked by Rhodesian aircraft.

At 0900 hours, the Hunters (Red 3) did a run from west to east on the ridge south of Complexes M to D. They were asked to re-strike. Call sign 2 (RLI) was heavily engaged and was brought to a stop by very heavy enemy fire on the river line. Ten minutes later, Red 3 came to assist with a Sneb strike. Kcar 6 over target R—ZANLA’s logistics centre containing food, clothing and ammunition and 150 occupants—sustained a gun stoppage, followed by the cannon jamming completely and was forced to leave the area under a hail of small-arms fire. Then came: “Call sign Stop 2 still in contact. K-car to assist ASP.” Ten minutes later, Stop 2 was relieved by a strike and re-strike. At 1004 hours, Robinson ordered Stops 1 and 2 (RLI) along with Stop 3 (SAS) to prepare to begin the sweep. He warned Stops Alpha (the ten RLI sticks Alpha to Juliet), 4, 5 and 6 to “watch out” and to sweep from their present locations toward the main-camp area. One minute later, with K-car 1A overhead, Stops 1, 2 and 3 were ordered to begin their sweep. At exactly this time, in a further intercept, the bewildered control centre at Maputo asked the FPLM (Frelimo Army) operator at Chimoio which camp had been attacked. They were put clearly in the picture. The troops began to advance on the camp—through the thick bush, flushing out and killing the enemy wherever they found him. The troops, fully aware of the odds, were taking no chances. They were also infected by the adrenaline that accompanies battle fever and, in many cases were unable to stop themselves—like Melson’s description, they were “a killing machine”. They mowed down everything in their path. A 3 Commando MAG gunner, Trooper John Connelly, was still haunted by the horror of the attack and his participation in the slaughter … seventeen years later. There was a lot of ground to cover however. Both Walsh and Robinson were very busy men. Walsh was ordering repeated Hunter and Canberra strikes on the camp, using his gridded photographs of the camp to give spoton accuracy. Robinson for his part was co-ordinating over 60 ground call signs. At 1020 hours the Chimoio/Vila Pery FPLM operator informed Catandica, Manica, Espungabera and Mutsenembe that they were sending an anti-aircraft section to reinforce their ZANLA comrades at Vanduzi. As a reaction, with deployment after the initial attack of two hours and 35 minutes, it was obvious they were not in a hurry to get involved. Both FPLM Manica and FPLM Catandica were ordered to deploy infantry reinforcements to the area.

With friendly forces closing in on the ground, the aerial bombardment had to be carefully co-ordinated. At 1040 hours, Stops 1, 2 and 3 were ordered to halt their advance to allow for a third air strike by Cyclone 5 (Canberras) on complexes M to D which had previously been hit by Vampires. Five minutes later, the controller at Maputo radioed the FPLM at Chimoio/Vila Pery demanding to know what measures had been taken against the Rhodesians and what results had been achieved. The reply has not been recorded. At 1052 hours, the following was received: “Received Alpha Bravo 3, Venom 2 crashed.” This message referred to one of the Vampires which had been hit by Frelimo AA fire on its return to base. The pilot, Air Lieutenant Phil Haigh, was killed as he attempted to glide the crippled aircraft into a crash-landing over the border into Rhodesia. RLI c/s 2 was sustaining heavy fire from the camp area where the enemy, realizing that there was no escape, had gone to ground. They had to be winkled out of each and every hiding place—many of them fighting desperately to the last. At 1115 hours, Robinson ordered SAS Stops 4, 5 and 6 to sweep north toward the camp but to look out for Stop 3 on their right flank. Stop 3, just south of Complexes D and M, reported firing still ongoing. The Hunters (Red Section) hit M with two strikes. Call sign 22 (part of RLI Stop 2) sustained three wounded—“two sitting and one lying”. G-cars were requested for casevac. K-car 4A arrived over Stop 1 and maintained a protective overhead hover. Stop 1 located an AA gun and a great deal of ammunition. They were told to mark the area and move on. Robinson then ordered SAS Stop 5, supported by Stop 6, to move through the M, D and C complexes and halt at the edge of some ploughed land beyond. RLI Stops Alpha, 1 and 2, along with SAS Stop 3, were detailed to search through and clear Complexes K, J and H while SAS Stops 4, 5 and 6 were to perform the same through complexes D, C, B and R. At 1232, an unidentified call sign came on air: “Request immediate casevac with Stop 3 … serious.” The reason for the request was later revealed—an SAS call sign (a call sign from Captain Colin Willis’ Stop 3) advancing on the ZANLA garage area had come under fire. Turning to look down the sweep line to see that the dressing was in order, Corporal Trevor

Kershaw saw the man next to him, Trooper Frans Nel, sustain a fatal hit and fall. Two others were wounded. By 1300 hours, the completed sweep reported killing 50 insurgents. Seven minutes later a jet strike was put in on complexes K and J. Very shortly after this a breakout was seen at Complex R, the logistics centre, and another jet strike requested. At 1330 hours, Stop 1 requested a casevac for one wounded. This was followed by an urgent casevac request from SAS call sign 5 (part of Stop 5) for two soldiers, one of whom was in a serious condition. Stop 5, however, was in a heavy fire fight and the casevac was finally only uplifted at 1500 hours. Stop 3, clearing M, C and D complexes, reported finding numerous documents as did Stop 2 clearing H, the HQ complex. In view of the vast amount of documents and the very limited time available, the incoming Special Branch team was asked to be quick and selective as they could only take out what they needed by helicopter. The FPLM operator at Chimoio/Vila Pery, now appraised of the destruction of the ZANLA camp, came on the air and told the advancing reinforcements from Catandica and Manica to remain in their positions until the “situation returned to normal”. This order also applied to their antiaircraft section. From this intercept the Rhodesians deduced correctly that the FPLM had no intention of coming to ZANLA’s aid. It seemed the FPLM had no wish to see their camp reduced to a similar pile of rubble. The main action had gone on for over eight hours. By 1530 hours, there was no further movement observed from roads or complexes. RLI Stop 2 took the opportunity to destroy a surviving 14.5 AA gun. Helicopters were on their way from Lake Alexander to uplift troops. At 1740 hours, Robinson relayed to c/s 0 (CompOps Tac HQ in the DC3): “Recovered Stop A [the ten 2 Commando heli stops Alpha to Juliet]. All other stops remain in area. Results—about 500 killed and 20 captured. Casualties—one killed, four to five wounded—one serious, three not serious.” Petter-Bowyer was called in by Walsh to assess the air weapons effect of the attack: … There was too little time to inspect more than a portion of an Alpha-bomb strike and one site struck by Golf bombs … The experience shook me to the very core of my being … Those who had been killed by troops were greater in number, but somehow their wounds appeared to me to be so much more acceptable than those taken out by bombs … Never again

did I accept air strike casualty numbers as the means by which to judge our air successes without remembering the horror of what I saw at Chimoio … Robinson’s estimate of enemy dead was, of course inaccurate, given that it was an extremely rapid assessment after the battle, when rifle barrels were still hot. The more correct count came later—in excess of 1,200 combatants killed with about twice that number wounded/escaped. The call signs, which had stayed behind in the camp area for the night, were now in ambush positions. Stops 5 and 6 at Complex A; Stop 4 at C; Stops 1, 2 and 3 were positioned where the parachutes had been collected south of Camp H and northwest of the road. During the hours of darkness many ZANLA returned to the camp in the erroneous belief that the Rhodesians had left. Some 60 of them were subsequently taken out by the ambushing troops. At first light, the troops burned or destroyed what they could in the camp. At 0830 hours, an air strike from JOC Umtali was called for when one of the call signs stumbled on around 20 insurgents still dug in. Half an hour later, Stop 4 reported having enough demolition equipment to blow target P—the garage and fuel dump—where they found, among other things, a vehicle belonging to Robert Mugabe. They also collected a quantity of 12.7 antiaircraft guns to recover to Rhodesia. All troops were out of the area by 1410 hours. On the morning of the 26th, the FPLM operator at Chimoio advised Maputo that 586 wounded had arrived at their location and that they could not cope. Some had been sent to Beira. Approximately 70 required amputations. An unknown number were unaccounted for. There was a desperate shortage of medical staff, medicines and food. Here follows a report from Jimmy Swan, a stick leader in 2 Commando at the time: … Combined Operations decided to combine a powerful and experienced force, the Air Force, SAS and RLI, and stage the most daring attack on the largest training camp ever assaulted in our war, Chimoio in Mozambique. The high combat skills of the RLI’s four-man sticks meant less numbers needed for assaults, easier control for the K-car commander and therefore less chance of heavy friendly casualties. This attack was to be prepared for in total secrecy. At Grand Reef, we were literally cut off from the world for seven days. No calls, no leaving camp, and any vehicles that had to leave camp were specially screened and escorted. The information was that 8,000 men, either in training or

operational, were in this camp at that time. The fact that enemy numbers were the equivalent of ten battalions was mind-boggling. This camp was visited regularly by ZANLA leaders like Mugabe and we were advised of this fact. Their kill or capture was regarded as a bonus. Enemy weapons would comprise the normal AK-47s, SKSs, RPDs, grenades etc. plus a barrage of high-powered anti-aircraft guns, mortars and rockets. Not to mention T-54 tanks and APCs. There was a concern over SAM-7s being used against our aircraft and possibly MiG aircraft from Tete. 2 Commando would be the heli assault troops and SAS and 3 Commando would be the paras. The briefing officer advised all stick commanders, that we would be working with our own sticks, who had much combat experience together, but the bad news was, that only 180 assault troops, with air support, would be the total strike force for the raid. This brought a stunned silence and then a low rumble which grew into a roar—“They are f*cked, eksêeee.” We all renewed our wills and prepared both mentally and physically. For one week we trained in fitness, tactical manoeuvres, got our kit ready, pored over maps of the area and the camp … over and over again, marked out our areas of assault, ensured communications were all good, packed a minimum weight of food and water to maximize ammunition, weaponry and medical supplies and most importantly, bonded with our teams, talking extensively of what-if scenarios and modus operandi on every conceivable situation. Every morning we would run up and down the airstrip, singing the commando songs, instilling a good team spirit. For the raid, every man was expected to carry no less than 12 x 20-round magazines, plus spare ammo, four white phos grenades, four M962 frag grenades, one bunker bomb, one orange smoke, one Icarus flare, mini-flares etc. The MAG gunner would carry 20 x 50-round belts plus his grenades. 9mm pistols could be carried as support weapons though normally only recommended for the paras. Each stick also had to take two claymores in case we had to set night ambush if extraction was not possible. In terms of dress, we were under strict instructions to wear only Rhodesian camo, as opposed to our normal non-regulation ‘wild’ clothing we usually wore. (I normally wore black overalls.) The Blues would contribute 20 G-cars with twin Brownings and five Dakotas for the paras, ten K-cars with 20mm cannons for air support, five Hunters, five Vampires, five Lynx and three Canberras. This was a phenomenal number of aircraft as far as Rhodesia was concerned—in fact

nearly the entire Air Force. This would mean the internal Fireforces would suffer and the country’s defence would be left to the ground troops. Due to the vast area of the Chimoi camp, sticks would be spread into wide extended lines, so as to try and cordon off the entire perimeter of the camp. It was planned that the entire strike would be at dawn—the strike aircraft would initially go in on their bombing runs and then the K-cars and assault troops would do the rest. During the ground assault, there would be many calls for air support and this was a worry in terms of own casualties. Hence every unit had its own dedicated K-car with its own commander, plus a separate frequency to ease congestion. Chimoio was the largest terrorist training camp in Mozambique and covered an area of approximately eight square kilometres, made up of living quarters, parade squares, training areas, headquarters, lecture rooms, medical facilities, CQ stores, arms and ammunition dumps and a maze of underground bunkers. The night before the raid, we all turned in early, very much immersed in our own thoughts. We talked a bit and for the umpteenth time double-checked our kit was in perfect fighting order. We ensured that everything was tied down, and that grenade pins would not get pulled out, and that all magazines were in working order. But more than that, we continually reassured each other that it would all be okay. On D-Day, we awoke at 0300; we kitted up, climbed on the 4.5s and for the first time in a week, rolled out of Grand Reef Fireforce Base. We travelled in silence, fear and excitement etched on our faces. Arriving at Lake Alexander we were briefed and then the unmistakable sound of rotors, then lights … We had a final debrief and jumped in our choppers. Most of the pilots and techs we knew from previous sorties. We did final checks in the choppers, gave the thumbs-up and we eased upward and forward, headed for the border and then on to our target, Chimoio. I clearly remember looking at my stick and thinking how we looked like fresh poes in the new issue kit. The sun was an hour from rising, but there was light on the horizon and as we got up over the tree line, it was a proud moment. We were part of the most extensive raid ever and all around us we saw the lines of aircraft against the horizon. Tree-top flying was immediate as we entered Mozambique. This was just fantastic and a tactic we relied on to minimize noise on approach. Then the Daks and the Lynx joined us. The deep roar of the massed aircraft must have been frightening for anyone on the ground below.

We flew over the lake off the Rio Pungwe and knew our target was close. We were leaning half out the open doorways of the choppers, craning to catch a glimpse of what lay ahead. The sight to our front was awesome. Just streaks and hisses from the ghosts of the sky and then flashes on the ground. The jets had started the assault on their targets. Big thumbs-up from the pilot. I could see the gleam of the white teeth and the eyes of our guys, who were black with camo cream. We sat on the edge of our seats, adrenaline rushing, fear and excitement in a co*cktail. We were ready. As we came over the last rise, we pulled up off the trees and broke into a circle on the outer perimeter at approximately 1,000 feet. As we looked out, it was Armageddon all over. Just flashes, smoke and miniature people running. The stench of napalm was incredible. We now had light and it was a perfect day to kill. Before we knew it, the choppers were coming in at pace, hitting the ground with some force. Already half-leaning out as we hit, we jumped down and ran for cover, expecting ground fire. We dashed into cover in our normal 360-degree formation, protecting ourselves and the choppers, who always gave us the thumbs-up on departure. The heat and humidity were unreal, maybe a temperature of 36°C in the shade. We kneeled at the ready, eyes keenly peeled and waiting for instructions to either get into stop positions or the okay to start the sweep. To our left, more choppers came in, more 2 Commando troops, and then one of my guys hissed, “Corp, check the paras.” We could only see the odd aircraft on the horizon, but like miniatures, the paras dropped from the Daks, completing the box cordon. We felt we were untouchable. It was dense bush, but we knew now that we were strategically surrounding an estimated 8,000-strong enemy and that their only choices were to fight, run or die. Some choppers left to refuel somewhere back on the approach route where troops and fuel were waiting, which had been paradropped by the Dakotas. The others stayed overhead to cover the ground force, now all down and awaiting instructions. The entire valley was now a war zone—small-arms and anti-aircraft fire, mortars and air strikes made it more than real. The sky was alight with tracer, ground bursts and the spit of fire from the jets as they launched their rockets or fired their 40mm cannons. And much of the fire was in fact from the terrorists directed at the aircraft. The air was already pungent with smoke and the tang of napalm. Smoke was bellowing from burning thatch and bush.

Almost immediately we got the okay from our K-car commander and we moved forward toward our targets, all ensuring we were not in front of the next stick, keeping our dressing. Slowly we crept forward, weapons at the ready with butt tucked in the shoulder, safety catch to R—eyes scanning just above the thick bush, which enhanced one’s ability to focus on objects that were not part of the bush, It was better this way, rather than looking directly for humans. Although there were 17 x four-man sticks, it was difficult to see the man next to you. The sweep line commander called a halt and we went to ground and watched in absolute silence, camouflaged and crouched just inside a tree line facing the direction of the camps we had clearly seen prior to landing. We hoped that any escaping gooks would be running and looking upward at the aircraft and not detect us. Then it happened as predicted—the bush in front of us opened up and they were running, in the crouch. All hell let loose as we fired into them from approximately 30 to 50 metres and they reeled back, shouting and screaming in shock and panic, some firing at us without effect … as we took them out with volleys of fire from the gunners and riflemen on both sides of me. All riflemen used the economical but effective double-tap, which is accurate and always kills. They started dropping like flies and the bush was alive with movement and screams. The sounds of automatic fire from the MAG gunners and those meticulous double-taps from the riflemen filled the air. They tried to run back but they were being annihilated. We threw HE and white phos grenades and it was a massacre. We ran through their position and then went to ground, awaiting the next wave. Other gooks, hearing their comrades making contact, headed off in another direction, and straight into the 2 Commando sticks on the left flank. It was full-on killing. The gooks knew if they headed back to the centre of the camp, they would be taken out by the predatory Blues, so they chose to stay in the thickets of the rivers and gullies … where we were. We did quick body counts and carried some weapons into the centre of the kill zone. We piled up the weapons, pulled the pin on an M962 and put it under the pile in booby-trap mode. The body count from this first contact was 22 and we retrieved all their weapons. No casualties on our side. We waited for the units to our left to finish their assault and they confirmed eleven killed and no losses on our part. They reported some gooks had got away. We anticipated they would be heading for the camps we were still to encounter.

While checking the bodies we noted some coloured men among the corpses, more Cuban-looking than anything else and figured they were maybe instructors. We again moved forward in extended line. I kept my stick close and constantly briefed them. My gunner had used three belts in the last contact and there was a feeling of confidence in his body language. He turned and showed me a bullet hole in his back pack. We walked across a less dense area that had been cleared for crops or the like and a volley of fire came at us from the opposite tree line. We took cover and returned fire. The air was alive with cracks of bullets. The intensity of the enemy fire increased and several stick grenades were thrown at us. It was getting hairy so we eased back into thicker cover and called in the K-car, which was clinically taking out any gooks visual. Even if it wasn’t hitting any, it definitely took their attention off us but many of the gooks were poorly trained and they commonly fired on automatic and often too high. We started to skirmish forward, firing all the while. The noise was unreal. It was like those jumping jacks going off at Guy Fawkes, but far louder. Our advance was measured, using the drakeshoot system, firing two shots a metre in front of any likely cover, which converted the ground into shrapnel and killed or exposed anyone in that cover. I threw two pineapple grenades and the same went for the two sticks to my left. Just flashes as they exploded and then the awful whimpering. Suddenly my gunner jumped up and emptied two belts into an area about 50 metres ahead from where we’d been taking a lot of flak. It went silent but we believed they were simply luring us into their trap. There was no way we were risking our lives so as we moved into the killing ground all the bodies were given an extra shot. An old trick was for the gooks to play dead and lie on a grenade with the pin out, and if we rolled them over we would be killed by the booby trap. This was a larger group and there were 17 dead in our direct visual area and the rest of the guys reported their counts were increasing. We moved through the killing ground and there were bodies everywhere, in grotesque positions, entrails protruding, some still giving the last twitch, limbs off, heads caved in. Most of the gooks were dressed in civilian clothes, or a combination of civvy clothes and communist camo. They were carrying mainly SKSs but a few had AK-47s. We were pleased with our handiwork. It was good to be victorious. All stick commanders confirmed no killed or injured on our side. This was good to hear.

We moved through the tree line and toward the first training camp. Enemy mortars started up as we approached a ravine, followed by heavy small-arms fire. We took cover behind some high ground and called for an air strike. We estimated there were 100-plus gooks to our front and they appeared well armed. We returned fire from our cover as we waited on the air strike. These gooks were very aggressive and at the time I was sure we would take casualties. Some were shouting abuse at us in broken English, some in Portuguese, some in chiShona. The distance was just too far for hand grenades, so one stick popped three rifle grenades at them which quietened them for a few seconds. Our commander radioed through our position and marked the target with orange smoke. The bush was so thick I wondered if the the pilot could see his target. And could our commander see us, the whole sweep line from end to end? In came the old Vampire, slow but aggressive and it kept coming, the two nostril-like vents distinctive in the front. It was a most impressive sight as she dived and, with that unmistakable cobra-type hiss, she released her rockets. We all lay flat on the ground with our mouths open, an old trick to save our ears bursting from the pressure. “Pull out! Pull out! Pull out!” was the scream from the stick commanders, but too late … we appeared to became the target as two 60-pound Snebs came into our lines. I cannot recall impact. I just remember fear and intense pressure in my head and my ears. We were all badly dazed from the impact and the trees above us had been shaved bald. Fortunately, all that hit us was a thousand pounds of air and dust. I reckon we managed to flatten ourselves by sucking in air or something. We were all full of smoke, battered and shocked, but we recovered quickly enough, spurred on by the ever-faithful adrenaline, as subconsciously we knew the enemy had not been affected by the attack. During this time we lost control and were disorientated, putting us in great danger. The Vamp pilot had immediately realized his error and was apologizing profusely over the radio and offering to stay in the area and look out for us. We radioed him back and said we were all okay. I could hear his relief over the handset. All the time the sticks to our flank continued to fire into the enemy, suspecting we were either dead or wounded. At this time the gooks withdrew and we suspected they’d recovered to their bunkers … the idea of clearing bunkers was something we didn’t relish. I remember a desperate need for water. We carried four bottles each, but with the huge intake of dust and crap from the strike, we were drinking too

much too fast. We could not risk drinking the local water as it was probably poisoned, so sheer willpower was imperative. I remember asking the choppers if they had extra water on board but they didn’t We continued forward and cautiously entered the first training camp that had absorbed the initial air strikes. It was a mass of burning embers and bodies, with the sweet smell of napalm all pervasive. We ensured all sticks were in line and we watched. We had two choppers overhead and were assured that other units were not in our direct field of fire. We opened up on all the huts and any likely cover. We then advanced slowly, very aware we were heading for the bunkers, where we knew some of the gooks had scrambled into to try and hide. Suddenly our men were literally walking on hidden gooks in the undergrowth and, after nearly sh*tting our pants, finished them with double-taps. Carefully we searched for bunkers. These were located and some of them were so large and so well disguised, we stopped any foolish thoughts of attempting to assault them and simply gave them the bunker bomb treatment. This was a grenade box, stuffed with one kilogram of plastic, a simple detonator and KABOOM! It had zero shrapnel but was all percussion. In a nutshell, all died. Again, you took cover and kept your mouth agape. While throwing the bomb into the bunker, the nominated person had to be very careful as he had to open the bunker vent just enough to drop the bomb in—at this time he was most vulnerable and liable to get shot. The rest of the stick lay flat on the ground as the bomber laid up on the side of the bunker, counted to two (so they could not throw it back), and quickly tossed it in before rolling clear. The shock wave was enormous. In the first camp we came across five bunkers, cleverly camouflaged in the surrounding bush so as to be almost undetectable. The shout “Take cover!” was called by the grenade thrower and we all took heed. Once the smoke settled, in went one of the guys, simply to do the body count and remove all weapons and ammunition. We used controlled clearing tactics, rather than risk life—we fired into all remaining huts, likely cover and we killed many more terrorists. These training camps were very basic, made up of sleeping quarters and lecture ‘halls’—huts made of bamboo and timber, banana leaves and the like—and for protection the bunkers and foxholes By now my stick had accounted for 15 confirmed kills and all of us still in one piece. Similar figures were coming in from the sticks to our left and right, so we estimated that in four hours of sweeping 2 Commando had

accounted for an estimated 120 kills. This did not include the similar figure found in camps taken out by the Air Force. A confirmed kill is one in your sights who dies from your round. Casualties found dead in a killing ground are credited as group kills or to the Blue Jobs. We heard that we had already lost one of the SAS guys and about six guys in the para sticks had been wounded. And the day was still young—we had not yet hit the headquarters or the anti-aircraft batteries. During a brief break, we searched the camp and uplifted a few spoils of war—watches, money, bangles and the like. We were constantly comforted from above by the constant hiss of the Hunters, the distinctive chatter of twin 40mm cannons, the 20 mill from the K-car, the twin Brownings in the G-cars and buzz of the Lynx. By now we had consolidated, had got some more water in, wiped the sweat and grime from our eyes and regrouped for our move to target number two—another camp. It was close by so we expected that many of the gooks would have fled and, if lucky, broken through the assault lines. If not, we would find them dead. We entered Camp 2 and, again, more devastation. We looked to the high ground to our west and there seemed a line of ants moving out. How they got through, who knows, but we had no time or energy to go after them. Our task was within. As we scanned and searched for ammo dumps and bunkers, we heard the distinctive pop of mortars and then all hell broke loose on the outer perimeter of the camp. A large group of well-trained and heavily armed gooks had engaged the sticks on the one flank. Two RPG-7 missiles came right over us and exploded in the dense bush. It is a distinctive sound. There is the initial explosion as it leaves the launcher and it is terrifying as it passes over you, then hits and explodes. It has armour-piercing ability and is very mean. We swung round to support the flanks and moved forward to join the fight. I picked out two distinct, irregular shapes near an anthill and gave them each two shots, hitting two gooks in ambush position. Both died with muffled grunts. We confirmed further kills, about 14 this time. We all converged on the centre of the second camp, which was basically a continuation of the first, but had its own command hut. We then got the troops into all-round defence while the stick commanders had a meeting. In the interim, selected men went through the camp searching for bunkers and destroying them. We were all

smiles, in spite of the cuts and bruises and grime. We took a water break, had a quick tin of bully beef and took stock. It was estimated in our meeting that 2 Commando had accounted for 167 confirmed kills, with our overall body counts of approximately 400 gooks. Our K-car commander confirmed that we had only suffered one death and by now eight wounded, all of whom were from the paras, but that the total enemy kills were well over 1,000 and climbing. The air strikes had ceased entirely as we had basically secured Chimoio. Fortunately the jets had annihilated the anti-aircraft guns and any mortar batteries. High above, the Hunters and Vamps kept their eyes peeled for MiGs. The Lynx and choppers continued to keep a presence at approximately 1,500 feet.

Sgt. Mervin Bramwell (1 Commando Brit) scratches in the ammo trailer at Mtoko Fireforce Base, 1977.

1 Commando at Mtoko. From left: Tprs. ‘Porkie’ Campos, Dwinger and Steyn.

1 Commando’s ‘Mini’ Monson (left) and Steve Biddlecombe in their crude bivvy at Mtoko Fireforce Base. Accommodation at Fireforce bases wasn’t always 5-star.

Ian Smith chats with Support Commando American’s Bob Lee (left) and Tim Carmody at Grand Reef, 1977.

A typical roadside sign in the Rhodesian bush

We then continued toward our final target—the CQ stores on the western side of the main parade ground. The killing continued, but with little resistance and basically it was now down to a clean-up operation—flatten the camps, blow up bunkers and weapons, burn and blow up ammo dumps, anti-aircraft positions and mortar positions. Water and food supplies were destroyed as well as livestock, with some cattle having been killed in the battle. We could make out our other forces moving in the distance. Then we got the message we had all been waiting for—get to clearings for chopper uplift. We were going home. We passed the message on to the troops and there was much joy. We made our way to our respective LZs and awaited uplift. This was a major task for the Alouettes. We sat in the crouch, I talked the chopper

in, we climbed in, patted the pilot and tech and then we were up and airborne heading home to Rhodesia. Still flying low to avoid gooks opening up on us on the way out, we relaxed. We looked back at Chimoio and it was simply gone. We were crossing Chicamba Dam and suddenly our pilot stated we had taken ground fire, he had minimal control and that he would land on a small grass island in the middle of this lake, right below us. We came down, extremely vulnerable. Our ammo was in short supply and if we came under attack we would be in trouble. Watching our buddies flying away was just not good. We landed okay and took up positions around the chopper while I met with the pilot and tech. We had taken two rounds at some stage and the aircraft was now inoperable. To be honest, our ears were still ringing so we hadn’t heard a damned thing. We now faced a dilemma—do we destroy the aircraft or wait for spares? It was getting late and we were worried. Finally, in came Father Christmas in the form of a chopper with some parts and 30 minutes later we were airborne and, with some overhead protection, we headed for home. We flew all the way back to Salisbury and landed at New Sarum. We were dirty, tired and worn out. Our equipment was in a tatty state. We washed up and were then immediately informed of our next raid. We were locked up in the hangars and the briefings began … Tony Coom, a 3 Commando para, was also at Chimoio: … The first entry in the operational section of my Log Book of Parachute Descents with The 1st Battalion, The Rhodesian Light Infantry reads in red that this was my tenth jump (the other nine were basic training jumps) on 23 November 1977 at 0747 hours into Zulu 1 drop zone from 500 feet on a static line. I was number 16 in a 24-man stick. This was a combat jump and we were credited with 1,200 terrorists killed and some say perhaps more. From the vantage point by the door after the dispatcher’s instruction to stand up and hook up I could see two other Daks flying in formation off our port wing. A magnificent sight as dispatchers shouted their “Stand in the door” and held the first man in position. Jump lights changed from red to green, and as the port stick started disappearing into the skies over Mozambique I was treated to the spectacle of the Air Force jets doing their bit on the parade ground area of Chimoio. All of this was not making for 29year-old 3733 Corporal Anthony Harold Coom a pleasant day. Time dulls the memory and specifics fade into ‘I seem to remember’ but Chimoio for me went something like this, and let me hasten to add, that I have

no intention of making this a minute by minute, blow by blow account … First memories were of the briefing room where a rather gung-ho SAS Major Robinson gave us the low-down on what we were going to do. The further into the briefing he went the more confident he sounded the more despondent I became at the thought of the odds and the task at hand and the more my stomach turned. From the outset you will deduce that this Boys’ Own stuff was not really my strong point and in my opinion best left to those who found war appealing (the likes of Croukamp!). Here I was on my second tour in the RLI, the first session being as a boy soldier of 16 years old from 1965 to 1969, then a spell in civvy street followed by a three-year stint in the BSAP from 1974 to 1977 and then back into the RLI with my old rank and in my old troop in 3 Commando. Not because I loved the smell of gunpowder and the glory of battle was I in and out of the forces—it was because civilian jobs were hard to find. We were confined to barracks in Cranborne, billeted under lock and key for security sake, had the briefing and the next thing it was off to a hangar at New Sarum where there were rows of parachutes all neatly laid out. We started to kit up. Not quite the stiff card-embossed invitation to a soirée that I would have preferred. Kitting up in dread of the task ahead I looked around for a sympathetic and equally terrified face but found behind me the SAS sticks and immediately behind me a fellow wearing a Yank helmet, sporting some non-standard American weapon and grinning like a Cheshire cat. This could have been Wyatt Earp going to the OK Corral. He was actually looking forward to this day. I would later find out that this was Bob McKenzie who would years later be a house guest of mine in Durban and a dinner guest for rebels in Sierra Leone. Onto the Dak and then off to Chimoio and the story goes back to where I started … with me going out the door. When you are caught in the rush of paratroopers on the exit there is no hesitating or turning back (we used to clear 24 men out of the door in equal or better seconds). My exit was good and I was mesmerized by the sight of the battle taking place beneath me. Apart from making sure that the canopy was open the rest of the descent procedures were forgotten as the sight of terrs in miniature running through the bush was terrifying. Christ, what if the idiots starting shooting at me before I could get to the ground and get my FN extricated from the parachute harness? The 9mm Browning pistol thrust in the reserve ’chute strapping on my chest was going to be as effective as a pea-shooter, and anyway, I was

too busy finding a decent spot to land and minding the trees. Mercifully there were no terrs when I landed and the shedding of the ’chute, recovery of my weapon and locating the rest of the stick went off anxiously but without incident. We formed up in a sweep line and when the troop commander Lieutenant Mark Adams got his position confirmed and his orders, we started sweeping toward what I did not know. That day I was a follower and not paid to lead, but the sounds of battle were ominously close and we were heading that way. For most of us we were like dogs on a lead not really taking any interest in where we were going—just wanting to get through the day. The battle found our sweep line too soon and bullets started cracking around us, coming from the bush to our front. My first reaction was to get down out of harm’s way and feign a twisted ankle, but Adams was full of spirit and screamed to advance and fight through and all that spirited stuff. In the confusion you just follow the crowd, double-tapping at likely hiding places and really hoping that the idiot opposing you was more confused than you were and, to quote Patton, ‘You were able to allow him to die for his country instead of you dying for yours’. He had ideals, a country to liberate and as much Marxism as they could stuff into his head, or was he just another lad that couldn’t get a job. Me—I just wanted my pay cheque at the end of the month. Well, we went through and sent several fellows to martyrdom and reformed again, advanced to where we were told, shot our way through whoever was in our way and ended up in a clearing which seemed to be our temporary objective. We were able to take a smoke break here and were in defensive positions, wary of terrs on the run, when out of the bush stumbled a wounded terr in a green uniform, in a complete daze. We stared in amazement at his wounds. He had no hands, both severed at the wrist. Morbid curiosity got the better of us—this was worth closer inspection. Hell, this poor sod was going to have difficulty scratching his arse never mind picking his nose. We hustled him into the clearing, all delivering opinions as to how the wound had occurred … fascinating stuff. Anyway, the terr didn’t have a clue as to what was happening and was just looking at the stumps and mumbling, completely shell-shocked. I got onto the net and asked if they needed him for int. Short reply—no, get rid of him. So I got ready to shoot him. John Connelly the Pommie troop pervert, who incidentally was a well-educated chemical engineer and had got fed up with Civvy Street, asked, no begged, to be

allowed to deliver the coup de grâce. Return favour would be many cups of tea. Okay, agreed. The terr was knelt down and Connelly took his best shot from a few metres and shot him through the head. The gook just knelt there, unmoved and frozen. Amazing. We stared in disbelief. Another shot and the terr, much to Connelly’s relief, fell over. Callous action, no regard for the rules of war and the Geneva Convention, no not for us. But he would never have survived his wounds—his bad luck to be on the other side. His kind would be let loose in Rhodesia and the atrocities he would inflict on his own kind and on the whites would have made this look like intermission at the Saturday cowboy matinée. Mercy killing. We had own troops, SAS I think, advancing on us. I sent a troopie to the flank to watch out for them. Last thing I needed was a punch-up with the likes of Wyatt Earp and his posse. Murphy’s Law took over and as we got into another shooting match with some stray terrs, the troopie on lookout turned to watch. The advancing SAS mistook him for a gook and shot at him, wounding him. Alerted by our screaming, wounded lookout and before any further damage could be done, we managed to communicate to the SAS who we were, hollering like banshees more than likely as ground radio contact was slow. That was the only causality that I suffered under my command during the war. We got the casualty out of the way and began sweeping again toward wherever. By now, regrettably, things were becoming a bit more hectic and contact with the terrs more frequent. Several of the terrs were women, also in green uniforms. Needless to say I was not enjoying myself, but the survival instinct kicks in. I was still wondering what the bloody hell I was doing there and if this pace kept up someone’s luck was going to give way. And it did. We had now come to a thicket and we were warned that there was a guard post ahead of us and we could expect opposition. My sphincter muscle that was under pressure at the start of this escapade was now under considerable duress and likely to give way at anytime. The odds on me keeping a brave face were shortening. Ahead the fellows at the guard post opened up on us with no great accuracy with some dirty great machine gun that sounded like rolls of thunder. Like good soldiers of the line we advanced and came out of cover into a less treed area. As luck would have it a K-car came clattering overhead, broadside on to us and the gunner with that 20mm cannon was now looking down at us.

Christ, my heart was in my mouth as the gunner traversed that cannon toward what he considered a fair target. All my instincts told me that Roy Rogers up there thought we were the enemy. Being blacked up and partly obscured for him, we must have looked like easy pickings. There was no way or time to make our radio acquaintances—that muzzle was pointing directly at me. Thank God he hesitated on the trigger for a millisecond, for that was enough time for the chopper to have moved in its arc and for his muzzle to have moved toward the first man in the stick to my left. Well, that tech up there was not going to miss this opportunity and the 20mm rounds came hurtling down. Thank goodness he wasn’t quite the dead-eyed dick that he told his mother he was as none of the rounds hit any of the four guys in the stick. But they hit everything else and the ricochets from the tree branches and the ground literally cut the guys down. In one instant I saw death from a gun barrel, the Christmas-tree-brilliant twinkling of 20mm rounds exploding in the trees above me, the ground heaving from the impact of those that got through and four guys being poleaxed to the ground. Johnny Norman was one of them. Terry Hammond was another. Luckily no one was dead, wounded yes, walking no, in shock yes. I got over to them and with John Connelly and others we patched them up as best we could, did what we could for them and made them ready for casevac. In the meantime Adams and the others did what they had to about the machine gun and I was left with the task of getting the wounded to an evacuation site. Eventually a chopper came down for them but left immediately as a fusillade of rounds came his way. We had to abandon the evacuation temporarily and go and sort out the terrs that were shooting our way. We swept back into the area and put down as much firepower as possible, of course under my leadership from as far away as possible. The terrs either scarpered or else were killed. Who cared—certainly not me, for when there was no further return fire I signalled all-clear without going to check for bodies. Enough was enough and I signalled the chopper back and we got the guys out. Again we moved forward, now sweeping through the area of the guard post and with me praying that the terrs that had caused all the trouble were dead or gone. Bit of both as it turned out—we found some dead bodies and nothing else and eventually came out the other end into sight of the main camp and into a large open area.

And again more rounds came our way and they continued to come in ever greater volume and alarming proximity. This was serious stuff, necessitating getting very close to the ground. The fire was coming from across the field some couple of hundred yards away and we identified the source—our own troops from 2 Commando; they thought that we were enemy. Well no immediate causalities; we could not return fire and I managed to get via the confusion of the network a message to our OC Major Strong who was in sight of our predicament—and could he stop those idiots from shooting us up. I was pretty frantic. Getting shot at by the enemy is one thing, but from your own guys was the last straw. Strong’s reply was, “Calm down and don’t get shot away with the situation.” Hardly the words of comfort and assurance that I needed. Eventually the firing came to a stop and we were able to proceed to the main camp. We again swept the area that we had come through by the guard post and hauled out the machine gun, a 12.7mm on wheels that had opened up on us during our initial advance. At about this time Pete Donnelly from another 3 Commando stick had been shot in the arm while clearing terrs out of a reed bed. It was now well into the afternoon and a helicopter came in with some police SB guys. I remember the superior high-and-mighty, we-sit-on-theright-hand-of-God look on their faces as they strutted through the camp looking at us like we had just swept the garden of leaves. We despised them collectively and whenever we looted bodies from contacts we never handed to them any of the valuable spoils—watches, money, pistols, bayonets. We even took boots and clothing and whatever we could trade or flog for beer money—despite strict orders to hand stuff in for intelligence use. Couple of letters and a bunch of Chairman Mao’s little red books was all they got. We were warned against taking tinned food and water from the camp as it had apparently been poisoned. Things seemed to be slowing down and we wandered off to sweep and clear some other area and, eventually as light faded, settled down for the night alongside a dirt track. In the morning we continued along the road we had ambushed and came to the hospital. Not a hospital in the true sense of the word, no Dr. Kildare had done a locum here, just a collection of wooden buildings and huts. Papers were kept for our SB friends and that was all they got. Any terrs there had long since buggered off, very wisely, as they would have received terminal treatment to their maladies. We had a field day

looting and destroying the place. I had the extremely good fortune to find two folding-butt FNs. On my return and once the powers that be had sanctioned that the commando could keep them, I used the one for the remainder of my 3 Commando days and the other went to Lieutenant Adams. Mercifully there were no further contacts and we stumbled off to our RV for collection and transport by helicopter to Lake Alexander in Rhodesia. When we were evacuated it was by helicopter, our ubiquitous Alouette III. The choppers came in and the first one landed in a goodish-sized clearing and then neatly side-stepped under what must have been the biggest umbrella tree in Mozambique. Then his mate came down into the LZ, took on his load of four and went off. Jack the Lad, our driver, who was parked under the tree, then dexterously hopped back into the LZ. We piled on board and headed home. We clattered out of Chimoio en route to Lake Alexander, which had been the staging/distribution point for the land troops’ embarkation to Chimoio. Away we were then, lost in our own thoughts, difficult to hold a conversation in that environment. The pilot indicated that it was fa*g time and lighting a smoke for Jack the Lad was no easy feat; akin to sneaking a smoke on Pomona guard duty while the six of us trundled back to the world. Being a keen aviator, (even in those days I would have gladly swapped boot leather for the soft kid-leather gloves of a pilot—if I’d paid attention in maths I might have passed my pilot’s entrance exam at New Sarum), I noticed that the fuel was getting a bit light. Doing some elementary navigation, at which I was not bad, and noticing the decline of the needle, I reckoned that getting home in this chopper was going to require a miracle. At this point, Jack the Lad, who had preformed the LZ waltz under the umbrella tree and was fast being reduced to driver status in my mind, also became a very keen observer of the fuel state—in fact everybody was avidly riveted to the gauge. We were now about to climb the Vumba mountains on the border. Anyway, we all, from pilot to lowest troopie, were sweating, calculating fuel versus distance and praying (not that there was an ounce of religion among us foot soldiers, but for the Blues it was compulsory considering the antiquity of their flying machines). Now into the mountains with the fuel-gauge needle more to the left than a French politician and the red warning light having gone from bleeping Morse code to solid, in-your-face, look-at-me-prick. The pilot, now reduced to organ grinder, and his monkey were in great conference with much heated

map-reading and gesticulating. With not so much as a by your leave, the pilot heaved to the right and came down in a semi-clearing on top of this massif. With a nod from the organ grinder we got out, thinking collectively that if we had to walk home this Blues oke, who obviously had been too busy to pop down to the local garage and top up, was going to have a difficult time getting through the rest of his life with broken knee caps. The tech then indicated that he needed our muscle and, with the aplomb of David Copperfield, whipped back a few bushes and—hey presto!—44 gallons of Ian Smith’s finest blockade AV gas. Well, it was all hands to the drum, pump away, hide the drum, never mind the oil, windscreen and tire pressure, just home James and we were off again with Jack the Lad looking as pleased as Punch, driving us back to tea and sarmies at Lake Alexander. I think God got an unexpected thanks in the prayer bundle from a Blue Job that night. After the normal war stories and silent prayers of gratitude for survival to our respective gods we transferred to Grand Reef for transport back to civilization. The Daks were lined up ready to depart when General Walls appeared unannounced and took the trouble to come on board. He thanked us collectively for our endeavours. (Behind him standing on the runway was General Hickman, but not a peep from him; he always seemed without emotion.) For us paratroopers it was a pat on the back from a great and wellrespected man and our tired and sagging shoulders straightened … just a bit … Charlie Warren was also a 3 Commando para on the raid. Here’s an extract from his book Stick Leader—RLI: …The atmosphere in our Dak was one of nervousness, light-hearted humour and I suppose concern, as we all knew, that to take on a terr camp internally wasn’t that much of a problem, as you had casevac support and all the normal logistics that were available to us inside Rhodesia, but this was a big camp and a long way into Mozambique. So if you got a third eye (shot dead) or were wounded, were they going to be able to get you out to a hospital for medical attention or be able to retrieve your body for burial inside Rhodesia? (We worried about stupid things—being killed was okay, but why we worried about our bodies being left in a foreign land was beyond me; I mean if we had thought about it logically—you were dead, but I suppose the thought of your body going back to your family for a final farewell inside Rhodesia put your mind at ease, if you thought that their minds were at ease—what with having a body to bury.)

We felt the Dak alter its route and were told to get ready to jump. While we were still tightening helmet straps and checking equipment, the ‘Action stations’ order was given and before we knew it we were out of the door and on our way down. I followed Major Strong with Keith White (our machine gunner) behind me. I was positioned 14 out of 24 in the Dakota for the drop. Once I had checked that my canopy had deployed and kicked into my seat strap, I looked at Chimoio terrorist camp and saw the palls of black smoke from where the bombs had been dropped. The camp was huge, and I could see armed terrorists running in all directions; at first they looked like ants and as I descended their size grew. Keith White was near me and shouted something to me, and the next second there were cracking sounds around our heads, going into the parachutes. I looked down and saw a group of about a dozen terrs legging toward where Keith and myself were going into land, firing at us as they were running. Before I knew it, I was coming in for my landing and hadn’t prepared for the ground rush and hadn’t assumed the correct landing position —I was too busy concentrating on where this group of terrs was going and whether they were going to do a dog’s leg and come back and kill me as I was trying to free myself from my parachute. I landed hard and winded myself; I was battling for breath and at the same time trying to get out from underneath the parachute. I had to free my FN from the body band of the parachute so that at least I had some form of defence. When I had regained my breath and had my rifle in hand I ran for cover as there were contacts to the right and the left of me. I looked for the group of gooks that had fired at me and Keith while we were still in the air, and saw them legging it from me about 200 metres away. I fired a few rounds in their direction but the bush where we had landed was very dense. I then looked for Major Strong and saw him through the bush to my left. I had seen Keith and signalled to him to join me and we both linked up with the OC. There were contacts all around us. The sweep line was formed and started sweeping forward. The K-cars were also having a field day. The main camp buildings were to our front, about 800 metres away. To our northwest was where the 2 Commando chopper sticks had been dropped as stop groups (to stop any gooks from escaping in that direction). SAS was to our east. We received the order to start sweeping forward slowly as it was a long sweep line to control. This was done effectively by Major Strong. About 250 metres from the main stores buildings and the pig pens, there was

a large contact where the stop groups had been dropped. We were pretty close by then and took cover, to wait for the outcome of the contact. The grass was shoulder high in places and it was difficult to make out enemy or friendly forces. Eventually there was panic. A 2 Commando call sign and a 3 Commando call sign had walked into each other and due to the long grass had mistaken each other for gooks. The 3 Commando call sign had taken casualties. I can’t remember if the 2 Commando call sign had suffered casualties but I do know that the casualties were fairly serious, requiring immediate casevac. I remember hearing that Terry Hammond had been badly shot up around his arms. Several K-car 20mm cannons were having numerous stoppages at that time. We were eventually told to carry on sweeping to the target area. As we came to the main camp area, the grass and the cover petered out—it was now open ground, and we had to skirmish forward and clear buildings. We came to the area where the pig pens were kept; there were bodies lying around this area and in the open ground leading up to the pig pens. The main sweep line was then put in all-round defence and the buildings were cleared systematically. One stick was sent to clear the pens and the storerooms. Doors were kicked down and grenades were thrown in to ensure that there were no surprises waiting for the soldiers who went in. There were about nine terrorists hiding in the one storeroom, who were shouting, “Surrender comrade, surrender comrade!” They were called out of the rooms one by one and searched. There were both men and women in camouflage uniform. The stick commander reported to Major Strong on what had been found plus the amount and makes of weapons. Major Strong informed the overall commander in the air. I never heard what the answer was, but I do know the one troopie with an Irish name begged the OC to let him kill them all with his 9mm pistol. The OC just laughed and gave instructions to the stick commander who walked away to interrogate the captures. During the interrogation, these captures tried to make a break for it and scattered, running across the open ground we had just swept, to get into the thick cover. They didn’t get too far and were shot dead, their bodies littering the open ground near their other comrades who had been killed in the initial contact. One was recaptured and was used to lead the sweep line to the target area. It was now around 1330 hours A few sticks were detailed by the OC to go with him to search the rest of the buildings north of the pig pens. The main

building had large quantities of documentation and pictures of gooks. This was relayed to the commander in the air and we were told that SB details were coming to inspect the documentation and take back what was needed. This was apparently a very good find and extremely useful to the SAS and Selous Scouts, and ultimately to Fireforce operations inside Rhodesia in time to come. We moved on to the next building; this was the terrorist Quartermaster stores. What a find! This building was the size of a large barn, and had tinned sardines from Sweden (which were scarce in Rhodesia) and Israeli-made cans orange juice, bags of sadza (mielie meal) sugar, rice, salt, packets of cashew nuts, uniforms and all the necessary to keep the terrorists fed and on the move to cause terror inside Rhodesia. Once the QM stores area had been cleared, those who were with Major Strong’s clearing party started stuffing tinned fish, cashew nuts and tinned orange juice into their kidney pouches and 44-pattern packs (these 44 pattern packs were normally used to carry your food and other goods when you were deployed on patrols). I found a good FM/AM radio and opened it to check if there were any batteries in it but was out of luck. I put it in my pack anyway, along with the tinned fish, cashew nuts, and orange juice so that I could give it to friends and family when I got back. SB arrived while we were stuffing some of the spoils of war into our packs and they nearly had heart attacks. “What the f*ck do you c*nts think you are doing? Empty your packs. Nothing leaves this area. Who’s in charge?” By now we where drinking the orange juice, as most of us had very little water left. The one SB arsehole came up to me and slapped the orange juice out of my hand. He shouted at me, “Are you deaf, you c*nt?” I looked at him and whispered in his ear, “Firstly, your father’s a c*nt. Secondly, bear in mind that the raid is still not over and you could easily get a bullet in the back, you f*cking vulture. Now f*ck off and leave us alone! We are tired and thirsty and not in the mood for sh*t from Special Branch.” He looked at me in total disbelief, turned on his heels and walked in the OC’s direction. What was discussed, I don’t know and didn’t care. I took a new tin of Israeli orange juice and opened it and started drinking. The OC called the stick commanders and briefed them as to what was going to happen with these ZANLA QM stores—they were going to be destroyed. Whatever remained was going to be poisoned, including the uniforms and the drinking water (boreholes and wells). We were pissed off

but still kept what we had packed in our packs and kidney pouches. There were also a whole lot of cigarettes (Havana brand) in the QM stores, to which we helped ourselves. These were local Mozambican cigarettes, very strong but were not bad at all—they were non-filtered, but at that stage no one gave a damn. We ate sardines and drank orange juice until we were told to move back to the pig pens. I still had the radio and no one knew about it, so I was pretty chuffed with myself. It was getting pretty late in the afternoon, and as usual in the Army it was hurry up and wait. Eventually we were told to prepare for uplift by chopper. By now the camp had been cleared of gooks and chopper-loads of documentation had been taken back for intelligence purposes. We were split up into four-man sticks so that the choppers could uplift us and take us back to Lake Alexander, for our return to Salisbury on the vehicles that were waiting for us. The chopper crew that came to uplift our stick were South African. The pilot was a miserable bastard (I know they had worked hard during the day but we all had) and he gave us the signal to board the chopper. As we started to run for the chopper he changed his mind and told us to wait; he started to lift off and then as his wheels lifted about two feet, he dropped to the ground again. I made a sign to the other guys in the stick that he must be smoking dope, which the pilot saw and started shouting the minute we climbed aboard. He swore at me in Afrikaans and I did likewise to him in Shona. He then told the tech to tell me to get out of the aircraft as he wouldn’t take off with me on board. I duly did this and got on the radio to the OC (Major Strong) and told the OC that the pilot had booted me out of the chopper. The OC got on to the pilot and told him to hurry up and complete the uplift as there were still a lot of troops to uplift. The tech then got out of the chopper and told me to get back in the chopper. I then made a hand signal that the pilot was mad and climbed into the front outer seat of the chopper and the pilot took off. I don’t know if he thought I was scared of being left behind or what his idea was, but he was a burst arsehole of a Blue Job. He and I had a few more run-ins during the SA Air Force stay in Rhodesia. Most of the SAAF guys were good guys but this one really took first prize in being arsehole of the century. We flew out of Chimoio and crossed the border and landed at Lake Alexander, only to be met by an army of Military Police. Their duty was to search the returning soldiers for contraband, e.g. weapons, money etc. What the f*ck we were going to do with Mozambican money only SB knew.

Oh, and they were confiscating the sardines, orange juice and cashew nuts as well. While I was waiting to be searched I doubled back to one of the choppers that had shut down to refuel, and saw one of the techs that I knew and asked him if I could leave my pack there for a while. He smiled and told me to put it behind the front seat and that he would give it to me later. I went back to the search area and gave the MPs a mouthful of crap and told them to get a proper job. They finished with the search and I went back to the chopper to retrieve my pack and went to the trucks. The MPs were not coping with the searches as the choppers were arriving at a rate of knots and were disgorging troops left, right and centre. I still think it was that SB arshole who got his way with searching the troops as they arrived. They only recovered about five percent of our spoils. In any case, once we were all on our respective vehicles, they started up and left for Salisbury … And finally, the Air Force perspective from Beryl Salt: … Also taking part in the raid was Squadron Leader Steve Kesby (Vampire Squadron): ‘Our squadron was to fly two Vampire T11s and four FB9s. The briefing was held in the parachute hangar at New Sarum and was the largest and most comprehensive for any target to date. The enormity of the strike filled us with excitement and not a little apprehension. The FB9s with no ejection seats were to be flown by Varkie, Ken Law, Phil Haigh and me. The northern part of the Chimoio target comprising the training element was allocated to the Vamps—Varkie and I were to suppress flak by taking out anti-aircraft weapons while the others were to take out barrack blocks and other targets.’ Came the dawn—23 November 1977. Geoff Dartnall: ‘Ten K-cars and 21 G-cars began to wind up at about 0500 hours. There were a few sorry-looking individuals but most of them were handling their hangovers quite well. Anyway, there was a fair amount of adrenaline to compensate. I was in a K-car with Vic Cook.’ The helicopters were to pick up 40 members of the RLI from Lake Alexander, a forward base just a few kilometres from the border. At Thornhill the eight Hunters, with Squadron Leader Rich Brand leading, were awaiting their take-off time. The engines of six Dakotas roared into life and, led by Flight Lieutenant Bob d’Hotman, taxiied out onto the runway at New Sarum, carrying 97 SAS and 48 RLI paratroops who were to fly direct. The aircraft were overloaded and struggled into the air after a long take-off. The brief was to place three Dakota-loads of troops on one side of the square and

then turn 90° to drop the other three loads on the second side. The choppers were to seal off the third side. The armada was on its way. Steve Kesby: ‘We flew high level from Thornhill to north Inyanga only to find extensive cloud cover over Mozambique right up to our eastern highlands. We decided to descend early to get beneath the cloud—easier said than done as the cloud base was very low. We threaded our way through the gomos to find that the cloud base was higher on the other side but would still require us to enter the rocket profile at below normal height.’ The idea of using one noise to cover another worked perfectly. Having dived for cover as Jack Malloch’s DC-8 passed noisily overhead, the ZANLA men were taking up their places on the parade ground once more as the Hunters dropped down from 20,000 feet to release their bombs and the Canberras came in fast and low with their Alphas. Steve Kesby: ‘We left our IP on time and on pull-up I searched frantically for my target and experienced a huge feeling of relief at finding it exactly as in the photographs. On turning in to the attack, I saw vast numbers of ‘swastikas’ bomb-shelling in all directions. I called to my number two to concentrate on the parade square. We had been briefed to re-attack from different directions so as to confuse the gunners. As soon as I had loosed off my rockets and positioned for a re-attack with front gun, I heard Phil Haigh report that his aircraft had been hit. I formatted on him, climbing through the cloud. Phil said he had a very high jet-pipe temperature. I did a close formation evaluation of his aircraft but couldn’t see anything untoward, so we continued toward Salisbury keeping Marandellas in mind as a possible emergency runway. I crossed back into Rhodesia and changed frequency to Grand Reef to inform them that we were ‘feet dry’. Phil did not check in. I descended to try to locate him while informing Grand Reef that there might be a possible bale-out or forced-landing and to send a chopper. There were two fields below suitable for a forced-landing, and on turning toward the second field I saw a pall of smoke. Phil had conducted what appeared to be a perfect forced-landing but the aircraft had hit a ditch and burst into flames. Very sadly, I climbed away and made it back to Salisbury with minimum fuel. That day was certainly not over for us as we returned fully armed to Chimoio to provide top cover for the Browns. There was a lot of activity over the target and this made for some very interesting flying. What with the haze, the cloud and the smoke, the individual targets were difficult to identify, but the briefings from the troops were good and the radios clear. It was amazing that

we did not have any mid-air collisions. On one occasion when committed in the attack, a helicopter passed right though the centre of my gun sight. I called for him to ‘break left’ and then released my salvo of rockets.’ The helicopter gunships arrived on the scene just as this first wave of attack aircraft had gone through the target. Geoff Dartnall: ‘The flight to Chimoio was very quiet. As the target approached, we listened intently to reports from the fixed-wing aircraft going in. Our only transmission was a query from Vic to a returning Vampire as to whether he had knocked out the 23mm that was guarding our specific target. His terse ‘affirmative’ was very reassuring. Over the target we were met by continuous ground fire from small arms. The tick-tick-tick of rounds going by could be heard for the entire seven hours. These were interspersed with, in our case, three loud bangs as rounds hit the aircraft. The camp had long thatched buildings that appeared to be deserted. The ground fire was coming from the surrounding bush that was extremely dense. Having planted a couple of rounds into each of the buildings to ensure that no one was at home, we commenced firing into the denser areas of bush. This was much more rewarding—several were being used as cover and a couple of 20mm rounds had the desired effect of driving survivors out into the open.’ The scene on the ground became chaotic, with desperately fleeing terrorists being gunned down, K-cars continuing the attack on the main base, while enemy anti-aircraft fire split the air on every side. The Canberras and Hunters had returned to base to refuel and rearm, while the helicopters touched down within sound of the fighting. Geoff Dartnall: ‘After an hour of this, it was time to refuel and, more importantly, find out where the holes were. One was in a main blade and could be patched easily. Another was about two millimetres from the leading edge of a tail rotor blade. Had it cut the reinforcing strip on the leading edge, two thirds of the blade would have ripped off, which would have then torn out the tail rotor gearbox. The third strike was only found the next day in the self-sealing fuel tank. At the admin base, we had three injured helicopters. Mine needed new tail rotor blades, 7513 needed main rotor blades and 7506 had been hit in the engine. It had flown on without any problems, but refused to start. We cannibalized, to give us two serviceable aircraft out of three. We then had blades and a new engine flown in. One of the G-cars went back to Grand Reef to collect the parts and anyone who was not required to fly helped change blades and the engine. Although the Alouette is designed so

that repairs can be carried out in the bush, they have to be done with great accuracy. It was a very creditable achievement to put all three aircraft into the air and back over the target before the end of the day. Ground fire was still fairly continuous, but not so intense. Then we received a call from the ground. “Cyclone 7—I don’t know if you know it, but people are shooting at you.” “Yes, we do know, thank you.” One moment of stark terror was induced by a Vampire coming down in a dive at us obviously about to deliver his weapons. Another Vampire was not far behind. Then there was the most almighty bang. I thought the second Vamp had flown straight into us but in fact it turned out to be the explosions of the first Vamp’s rockets hitting its target—a 23mm anti-aircraft gun, which was either shooting at him or us. We returned to the LZ after our last sortie, refuelled and set course for home. In the fading light, I thought of the beaches at Beira only an hour’s flying away. The K-cars were the first to arrive back at Grand Reef. The Gcars still had to pick up troopies. This gave us the opportunity to watch all the other choppers come over the horizon with their beacons flashing. It looked like a mobile Christmas tree and is an abiding memory for anyone who saw it—real lump-in-the-throat stuff. Emotionally drained, I still had to change the starter/generator. At this point I began to sum up my condition: Here I was, 41 years old, a wife and four kids at home, filthy dirty, had fewer than three hours’ sleep in the past 36, spent seven of the last 14 hours being shot at, had no idea where I was going to sleep tonight and now I have to work on a bloody aeroplane. It was probably the fastest starter/genny change that had ever been done on an Alouette. Even after the exhilaration and success of the first day, Grand Reef was not an anti-climax. Everyone will remember the dinner that John Crewell and his staff served up that night—a full three-course meal with strawberries and cream. Amazing. The next few days were a blur—via Mount Darwin (FAF-4) to some godforsaken place called The Train; then across Cabora Bassa to a place called Tembué. I remember it was a successful operation too.’ Next day, while the bewildered and wounded guerrillas were making their way through the bush to safety, the big clean-up began. Everything in the camp was either destroyed or transported to the nearby refuelling base and

then air-lifted via Lake Alexander to Grand Reef and then on to Umtali or Salisbury. Several 12.7mm guns were carried home and later allocated to airfield defence. Estimated enemy casualties were 1,200 dead for the loss of one Vampire and two security force personnel. But there was no suggestion of the security forces resting on their laurels … Tembué The attack on Tembué began the following day. The admin base re-supply would be only six kilometres west of the Tembué camp. A supply staging base was established on the Serra do Comboio (Mountain of the Train)—a huge, flat-topped feature, which, when viewed side-on, resembled a locomotive and accompanying carriages. This feature was familiar to all who had served on previous operations in Tete and was so obvious that it was used as a flying guide. A fuel re-supply dump was also established on one of the islands of Cabora Bassa Dam. The assault on Tembué was less spectacular than that on Chimoio, but nevertheless an important aspect of the overall operation. Here the main target areas were marked A, B C and F. The camp itself was on the Luia River. The weather was clear when the attacks went in. At 0800 hours, Red Section reported: “On target. Red 2 on target.” Blue Section reported: “On target.” At the same time the Vampires reported: “Top of target in one minute.” But for some unknown reason the usual morning muster parade had not occurred, which meant that the majority of the occupants escaped the aerial holocaust when it struck. The ground troops—Stops 1 to 6—were dropped. Robinson checked them out. There was one minor jump casualty. The camp was virtually surrounded with Stop 6 closing the gap between itself and Stop 1. K-car 2 reported fire coming from the area of the garage. Robinson ordered Stops 4 and 5 to move forward to the river. Stops 1 and 2 were ordered to move to the road. A mere 48 minutes after the initial attack and obviously expecting great things given the Chimoio results, ComOps inquired of Robinson: “Can you estimate Charlie Tango casualties yet?” K-car 1A reported many trenches and bunkers in Camp C. Robinson now ordered Stop 1 to sweep northward. A minute later K-car 2 came on: “Southwest of Bravo—have killed many CTs—require additional assistance.”

K-car 4 came into the action, directed by K-car 2: “Open fire now. CTs at base of every tree.” Stop 6 called for a strike on target F. Robinson told them to mark the target with smoke. Then: “Are you clear? Yes? Stand by. FLOT marked.” Two minutes later Air Force c/s Label 2 reported: “On target.” K-car 4 requested: “Put more strikes in.” K-car 2 came forward: “Will mark. Label 2—hold off.” Robinson ordered Stop 1 to move in after the strike. Both RLI Stops 1 and 2, under covering fire from 3 and 6 were directed to sweep through the complexes. Having done so, Robinson ordered them to sweep through the camp area at C and toward the river where Stops 4 and 5 were in an ambushing stop line. Here Major Mick Graham, the alternate airborne commander, instructed Stops 4 and 5 to ‘watch and shoot’. There was a flurry of enemy movement as the ZANLA cadres ran wildly, anywhere, seeking escape. Stop 4 was in contact. K-car 2A was ordered to support Stops 1 and 2 as many insurgents were seen moving toward them. Graham asked K-car 3 to support Stop 6 as they swept through. Stop 1 now shook out into extended line and began to sweep systematically northward. Ten minutes later, they came up against several insurgents whom they dispatched in a series of fire fights. They fought through, continuing the sweep northward toward Stop 2’s position in the middle of B. They were again engaged by insurgents. Robinson relayed to Stop 4: “Stop 1 still having contacts. Hold where you are.” K-car 3 coming up to support Stop 1: “Stop! Romeo 3—Charlie Tango lying down just in front of you.” At 1044 hours, Stop 1 began to enter area B. Here they joined Stop 2 and compared notes. Stop 1 advised Robinson: “Stop 1 killed 25. Stop 2 killed 45 on move up to Bravo. Not many dead in Bravo.” Stop 4 came on: “Killed 80 at Camp Alpha—still killing.” Later followed by: “Have located camp office. Can we have Sierra Bravo?” SAS Stop 6, still at camp F, reported killing 23 and capturing one. They appeared to be in a receiving and controlling centre. They requested Special Branch to come in and have a look. Stop 1 began to sweep the western side of B where they arrived at some huts and found interesting documents. An SB party moved up to investigate. Further documents indicated a magazine in area C or B. Stop 1 moved

forward and was involved in further contacts. It was obviously thirsty work because 20 minutes later they asked for more ammunition and water. They blew up a munitions dump after which they were joined by Stop 2 and cleared Camp B. Robinson told Stop 3 to link up with them and then ordered all three to move to the LZ. Stop 5 had found a large arms cache, including 75mm and 82mm mortars, grenades and much ammunition and got busy setting up demolition explosives. At 1445 hours they reported the demolition complete. At the camp office Stop 4 requested: “Require G-car to uplift documents plus two prisoners. Killed 150 in Camp Alpha.” Three 12.7 anti-aircraft guns were found, one damaged by the air strike. Both serviceable guns were dismantled and uplifted. At 1450 hours the energetic Stop 4 came back on air: “Captured terr maintains 1,000 Charlie Tangos left last night for another camp to the north and another 500 to Bene in the south. Require replacement K-car as still sweeping the area and still finding Charlie Tangos. Estimate further 45 minutes to one hour to complete task.” The reason the camp had been ‘under-populated’ by ZANLA that morning was now explained. Wasting no time Walsh got on to ComOps: “Have located new camp at Victor Uniform 815688. Permission to take out?” He had a reply in less than 3 minutes: “Okay, given to take out new camp.” At 1630, the new camp, which was centred around an old Portuguese trading store 35 kilometres north of Tembué, was Golf-bombed by Hunters, followed by an Alpha-bombing by the Canberras. Immediate results were not ascertainable but later reports indicated that the occupants had sustained heavy casualties. At Tembué itself the fighting had literally died out. RLI Stop 2 and SAS Stop 6, along with the collected parachutes, were uplifted back to Rhodesia. The remaining stops set up ambush positions for the night—Stop 1 east of Camp B; Stop 3 in Camp B itself; Stop 4 in Camp A; and Stop 5 west of B. At dawn, top cover was overhead but all stops reported a quiet night. Stop 4 had ‘enjoyed’ a first-light contact with returning insurgents and had killed a few. Several prisoners had also been taken. By 1230 hours, all troops and prisoners had been lifted out of the area and were on their way back to Rhodesia. Jimmy Swan was again in the thick of the action at Tembué: … 2 Commando as a whole unit would jump from the DC-7 and act as stop groups

and mortar teams for the main assault, made up of Support Commando, 1 Commando and SAS. Coming with us on the DC-7 would be the fuel supply for the choppers. According to the briefing, Tembué was a smaller camp. We expected to encounter many of the gooks who had escaped the Chimoio raid. They would be demoralized and exhausted. The huge plane would be used to deploy the commandos, all with 50kilogram CSPEPs, packed with mortars, mines, spare ammo and the like. The plane was totally stripped down to form a huge hollow cylinder and would deploy 70 men, 50 drums of chopper fuel, and more. It would be a dispatcher’s nightmare. We were still reeling from Chimoio and all we wanted to do was get to the pub and drink ourselves stupid. While we packed our containers and re-established our tasks, we wiped the mud and blood off our webbing and nurtured the blisters and cuts from the Chimoio raid. We simply looked at one another, cracked jokes and pumped ourselves full with extra-sweet tea and the favourite beans and franks … cold. We kitted up and slept with our parachutes. We were woken at 0300 and gulped down hot coffee and sandwiches. We had the final briefing and kitted up. The CSPEP containers were large and clumsy. Each man was carrying around 80 kilograms and hence most uncomfortable. We moved in single file onto the plane, which was dimly lit. We had already fitted our ’chutes and strapped our weapons. We dragged the containers and finally we sat in discomfort in our positions. The fuel and other supplies had been loaded beforehand; hence we would land first and secure the DZ for the later supplies. We took off before first light from the long New Sarum airstrip and headed for our target, just past The Train, being the mountain range in Porkos with which we were all too well acquainted. We flew low to avoid ground fire. The dim lights in the plane allowed us to just see our buddies and equipment. We crossed the border and could see the choppers and other aircraft falling in below. Then we felt the increase in altitude in a sudden upward movement and we knew we were over the DZ area. By now the jets had commenced their attack. We were told to “Stand up, hook up and check equipment”. The dispatchers moved through the sticks, doing their final checks. Then we moved forward in the famous two-step, shuffling clumsily with the weight of equipment. We were up and ready, packed close together. I could see the trees clearly below. Then the command to stand in the door. “ONE TWO” is

the chorus from the entire plane as our first man stands in the door, part of his body protruding into the slipstream. The dispatchers look up at the light and we all take a deep breath. Now the pilots are turning sharply and heading for the DZ. Taking ground fire now could be deadly as we are packed like sardines, and surrounded with drums of fuel. It would just take one tracer … Then it happens and our day is about to begin. “GO!” We all push forward and leave the aircraft, into the slipstream, under the tail. Seconds later, the jerk of the canopy, look up and all in order. There are paras everywhere and we cannot wait to get down. Jesus, we are in the trees, no time to jettison the container. We ride them in. We have been dropped far too low. We come in at 16 feet per second into a DZ that is non-existent. We plough in, weapons broken, bodies broken, some serious casualties. We are advised later that there was a miscalculation by the pilots and we jumped from under 300 feet, way below the safe height. I was fortunate as I had landed in a relatively soft spot. We regrouped as best we could, pulled in the parachutes and gave the okay for the supplies to be dropped. One of my guys had landed in a tree and we had to cut his lift webs to get him down. Fortunately there was no sign of gooks in the area. The medics dealt with the casualties who would stay put until the casevac choppers would uplift them an hour or two later. We unpacked our firearms and the mortars and formed positions of ambush. I had the 60mm mortar with a total of 18 bombs, which, if fired with precision, was a formidable weapon. It took us a matter of ten minutes to get into position and ready for any unfortunate gooks who might try and escape in our direction. The fuel was then para-dropped and another team of men was put in charge of setting up refuelling points in suitable LZs for the choppers. Not a pleasant job manhandling the 44-gallon drums. We could hear the scream of the jets and could see choppers over the target at 1,000 feet, smoke emanating from their guns as they fired down on the enemy. I always loved the action of the K-car as its frame jerked sideways when firing the 20mm cannon. The day was humming but in a different way from the day before when we were the assault force. We were the ambusher, we had cover, we had camouflage and we had positioned ourselves well in relation to the killing ground in front of us. In many ways, it was a relief to be static and observe the action from safety of our position.

The day progressed and we saw little action. We got word at around 1500 hours that we were moving. We had to basically pack up all the weapons, blow up any left-over fuel, gather up the parachutes and await uplift. One thing that was assured was that all main-line assault troops had been given five-day passes. We flew home and it was over … for the next five blissful days. We had two salaries awaiting us as we had been away from barracks for well over six weeks. That was a lot of beers … Charlie Warren adds his thoughts: … Eventually after a few of us had started to throw up from the long and uncomfortable flight, we were given the instruction to stand up and hook up, and get ready to jump. We couldn’t wait to get out of the aircraft, even though it meant jumping into enemy territory— just to get out of the aircraft was relief enough. The DZ was a small, open vlei with clumps of bushes interspersed. (These bushes we were later to find out were the dreaded ‘buffalo bean’ bushes and most of us were affected by the hairs from this bean which made us itch uncontrollably, to the point that we could not concentrate on what we were doing.) There we regrouped and waited for the choppers to uplift us and take us to the actual camp area. Here we waited while the choppers began to come in to land. We were confused as no one had been given instructions as to who was being picked up first and who would follow. None of our hierarchy had bothered to tell anyone that we were being put on ‘hold’ or as to what was happening in the attack. All we were told was to take up defensive positions around the choppers while they refuelled. It eventually became late afternoon and we were still being treated like the ‘Mushroom Club’ (kept in the dark and fed on sh*t). The choppers all landed in the centre of this vlei and switched off their engines. Our officers all went to the centre of the vlei and were talking to the pilots and techs as to what was happening in the camp area. Again nothing filtered down to us. It was becoming extremely late now and to deploy chopper sticks at this time would suicidal. I had been joined earlier by two soldiers (one black, one white); both stank to high heaven and said very little to anyone. They had taken their positions among my stick. The white soldier was a giant of a man with a huge beard and eyes that looked like they could penetrate steel. The black soldier was also a quiet guy and one could see that these two were a team. The white soldier sat on a log and was eating peanuts. He sat on a dead branch and

didn’t say much. His black mate sat a few metres away from him and rummaged in his pack for something to eat. It was impractical for the choppers to return to Rhodesia, so this vlei, onto which we had para-dropped, was used as an apron for them and which was to be guarded by the paratroopers. It was now dark and we were still not told what was going to happen. I glanced in the region of the parked choppers and before I could wipe the sh*t out of my eyes (we were deep into enemy territory), the next thing I saw, was that the chopper crews were taking their folding camp stretchers from behind the front seats of the choppers and shaking their white sheets in the air, to make their beds for the night. I stood there dumbstruck as I looked at what the Blues were doing about 50 metres from my position. I looked at this soldier who had joined us from nowhere and said to him, “Typical Blue Jobs. They can’t rough it, can they?” He just stared at the spectacle and grunted. Eventually one of the 3 Commando officers came over to my position, and told me to go and look for a Mr. Schulenburg. The stranger in our midst looked at the subbie and said, “I’m Schulenburg, what do you want?” This subbie (officer) went pale and introduced himself, still staring in awe at this giant in front of him, at actually having met and spoken to THE Captain Schulenburg. The subbie then explained to Schulenburg he was needed at the briefing. I and my stick were also staring in awe at this giant as we had all heard about him and his legendary exploits. We had never seen him before but his reputation had preceded him. Eventually one of the officers came and informed the sticks in all-round defence that due to circ*mstances we were to spend the night in Mozambique, and that we would be choppered out first thing in the morning. No briefing on the current situation was given and when the officer was asked what was happening with the camp attack, he told us that we would be briefed in the morning. Tembué had been attacked, we had been waiting all day to be choppered into the camp, but that was all we knew. Guards were duly posted but no one slept too well, except maybe the Blue Jobs who had brought their own stretchers and bedding. As luck would have it, the night passed uneventfully and the guards wakened everyone before first light. The noise made by the officers in the centre where the choppers were parked was astounding—one might think we were in a base camp back in Rhodesia. We were later told to

collect the ’chutes and deposit them in a central area and we were then allocated choppers for our exit back to Rhodesia. ***** Tempo magazine published an article (18 December 1977) on the attack on Tembué: ‘On 26 November 1977, Rhodesian troops attacked Tembué, which is located 245 kilometres northwest of Tete. 246 people were killed in the attack, including five Mozambicans (FPLM). 147 were wounded and were hospitalized.’ The attacks on Chimoio and Tembué, given the odds, were astounding successes out of all proportion to the means employed. The battle strategy and ground tactics had worked perfectly. That the Rhodesians could even contemplate taking on such impossible odds so far from their own borders is a measure of their determination, their complete understanding of the enemy, and their own fighting capacity. The success itself was limited only by the available resources. Lamenting this some 25 years later, Robinson, in correspondence with Charles Melson, stated: ‘We killed over 2,000 terrorists. If I had had your [American] resources we could have killed 8,000. The Fireforce method of vertical envelopment works.’ Ian Buttenshaw recalls: … All in the end worked well and many valuable lessons were learnt—mainly you cannot cuff [under-emphasize] an admin area deep inside Mozambique. There had to be enough men to provide local defence and enough men to move fuel drums around and unload casualties etc., under one commander, plus having an Air Force LO. This was taken on board for future externals.’ Both Walsh and Robinson were made Officers of the Legion of Merit (Operational) for their parts in devising, planning and executing the operation. Operation Dingo had a huge morale-boosting effect on the Rhodesians, stoically enduring a depressing political and military stalemate. Conversely, it had a further demoralizing effect on the ZANLA rank and file. However, more importantly, it made no difference to Robert Mugabe, who merely steeled himself in his resolve to take Rhodesia.

Captain Webster’s diary Diary of Captain C. H. Webster, Regimental Medical Officer, 1RLI. TT120180 / 011130B: February 1977

Report received of ambush near Angwa high-level bridge. Leave in Cyclone 4 with two Sparrows on board to track. Climb and fly northwest over Centenary East European Farming Area. The Mavuradona Mountains loom in the distance. Rain clouds everywhere, with rain hanging down like grey curtains. Farmers’ lands all green with crops. Pass over St. Albert’s mission, now closed, scene of mass abduction of African school children to Mozambique. Up over mountains and skirt around highest peak. Then drop down onto flat Zambezi valley floor. Fly approximately 1,000 feet above floor. Horizon stretches away to our right (north) and mountains move away to our left (south). Thick bush on valley floor but three bright green patches stand out on the valley floor approximately ten miles apart. They are Tilcor sites where Africans grow wheat etc. Pilot, Leon du Plessis, locates tsetse fly game fence. And we follow this now flying almost west. As the valley floor is so flat there do not appear, to me, to be many navigating features. Eventually see Angwa River ahead, flowing and with thick jungle around it. Fly over Lighthouse fort and over airstrip which is two miles away. See DAs below who have cleared strip and are waiting for us. Come in and land. Sparrows and pilot wait while some of Intaf details take me up to fort in seven-tonne truck. Pass spot where Intaf tractor was ambushed two days ago and driver killed. Oil and blood on road. Into fort and treat casualty. One of DAs patrolling walls shouts he can see terrorists coming. Commander sees ten terrs moving north across river and heading toward road between us and airstrip. We have the only local transport so we must get back. Load patients on back of truck. Everybody on back lying outward with weapons co*cked in case we get ambushed on way back to strip. Slowly back to strip. Load up, taxi to end of strip and roar off. Don’t hang around in case terrorists give us a quick squirt from end of strip. Mavuradona sure is beautiful. VR190940 / 271915B: February 1977 We moved to Mtoko today to take over JOC Mtoko from 1RAR. JOC Mount Darwin was handed over to 1RR yesterday and we pulled out yesterday afternoon to have a night at home. First light today HQ convoy left RLI Rear and we are now settling into JOC Mtoko. At 1900 hours, change to civvies to attend farewell braaivleis [barbeque] booze-up for RAR. There 15 minutes when we get message that Selous Scouts have been ambushed while deploying at last light and are 15 minutes’ flying time to north of our location. Terrorists are still revving them and they have six casualties, two of them apparently urgent. Quick briefing and decide that I will go in one of two G-cars, and a K-car and Lynx and will strike to keep CTs’ heads down. They are attacking from the east and I will be dropped in from the west with friendly forces between me and the CTs. (Hopefully!) Change to camouflage and kit up.

I take off in Cyclone 7 with two other Cyclone 7s and we head north, on my first scene from our new home, Mtoko. It is a bright, moonlit night and I can see countryside below in a grey, ghost-like light. Can actually make out fields of locals in Mtoko TTL and see old kraals scattered all over with PVs dotted around. Huge granite kopjes tower up in a sort of silent sentry role and seem to turn around and follow us as we pass. Start rapidly losing height as we approach and one of two Scouts vehicles quickly flashes its lights twice so we can see where they are. Pass over approximate CT position and around to north of scene. CTs do not fire at call sign on ground or us. Probably nervous now that four aircraft have arrived and have decided to avoid a snot-squirt at this time. My Cyclone 7 comes around from west and down, and I leap out with kit. Gunner throws out two stretchers and chopper pulls up and climbs to join three other aircraft in orbit above scene. When things quieten down I sneak over to vehicle and to where I can see the shadows waiting. They guide me to a vehicle and in the back (covered) I find two wounded men. One of the African Scouts lights a match in cupped hands and I snatch a quick examination. Cannot turn on the lights as terrorists are sneaking around near us. Find more wounded in vehicle, one is nearly dead with GSW in middle of anterior chest. No exit at rear of chest. Only half box of matches so tell Scout to hold it with matches while I prepare drip as we will need all the matches we can get to put drip in. Nearly ready with drip as I realize patient has stopped breathing. Light match. Eyes fixed and staring at roof. Confirm he is dead. Check other wounded in vehicle, minor wounds and patch up, he can go as sitting case. Other four wounded are scattered around in bush nearby where they scattered to find positions to return fire. I sneak around and eventually locate them. Two stretcher cases, one shot through back and into abdomen and yet he has been laying down heavy fire on CTs with his weapon. Prepare one stretcher and one sitting case and whisper for radio. Talk to Cyclone 7 and say one load ready for uplift. Also have to have torch as matches ran out and must have light to prepare second stretcher case. He is in a ditch so I can hide the light. VS081290: 15 April 1977 To Pfungwe TTL (back at RLI again) by Spider to scene of LM (landmine) blast. Nyadiri Mission ambulance is reported to have been hit by a LM. Find scene. European sister, Ruth Leindgren aged 35 years, with head injuries. African nurse blown in half. Another African nurse missing in bush. African driver with minor injuries. Back to Mtoko with European sister and, after transfer by ambulance to Nyadiri Mission, leave her there. US834039 / 231600B: April 1977 To Marula TTL at above locstat. Nice birthday flip. Two Spiders go to take stick of Sparrows to scene where Intaf Leopard has hit LM.

On arrival zero casualties so enjoy country while people look for spoor etc. Home at last light. A casevac lemon! VR888682 / 111030B: June 1977 Report of LM. One EMA and one AMA seriously injured. Depart by Cyclone 7. 40-minute flight. Land on road south of scene and approach. Good ambush site, long downhill stretch of road with kopjes on either side. Vehicle is a wreck. One AMA in crumpled dead heap in bush nearby. One AMA with lacerations and left leg blown off at approximately mid-tibia. BP low. Drip up and morphine. Remainder of tibia in shreds up to knee. AK tourniquet applied as bleeding ++. EMA nearly dead. BP high, pulse low, head and cervical injuries. Not wearing seat belts. Must have shot up and hit roof. Drip up on EMA, morphine, LOC1 and going fast. Quickly depart. Halfway back patient deteriorating fast, land in bush on top of large gomo. Tech and pilot keep lookout, I find EMA has stopped breathing, not a lot can be done. Take off and continue to Mtoko. AMA casevaced to Harare with medic. Will probably need AK amputation. No external injuries on EMA. I’m sure he would have survived had he been wearing his safety belt. Died for what? VR038305 / 111300B: June 1977 Just finished previous casevac when report received of tractor and trailer full of farm labourers which has detonated landmine in northern Macheke farming area. Off in Cyclone 7 again heading southwest, nice farming country, still many farms (Europeans) occupied and they have got electricity, not like Mayo area. Approximately 20 minutes’ flight, over scene, see hole in road, buckled trailer and Africans lying everywhere. Land in bush nearby. Two PATU sticks had just arrived and in all-round defence. On road through Paradise Farm! Bleak scene, three AFAs, four AMAs dead, legs missing, heads split open and limbs in strange positions like rag dolls. Right wheel of trailer detonated landmine. Find six AFAs who need urgent casevac and two minor casualties. All six prepared for onward move to Harare Hospital, Salisbury. One AFA might not make the grade, running out of blood. By 1700 hours all necessary drips, dressings, antibiotics, ATT etc and in 2.5 Field Ambulance and on way to Salisbury with escort. Chioco 150930B: June 1977 Corporal Keith Nelson, medic. External op. Report via radio that one of my medics, Corporal Keith Nelson (ex-US Special Forces) has been injured by AP mine and condition critical. He is a medic with a troop of 2 Commando on external operations. Poor bugger, his first op and he is a good medic, good bloke. Troops were attacking Chioco, a Fred (FPLM)/terr base when he stood on mine. Call sign on ground thinks he is fading fast. Leave immediately in G-car with Kcar and Cyclone 4 (Lynx) as top cover. We are now over a NO GO area. Fly northeast, weather cloudy.

North of mountain range turn due north, drop down to tree level and head into Fred country. K-car keeps station above us. Cyclone 4 goes up into cloud as now possibility of SAM-7s etc. Can almost touch trees as they pass below me. Odd huts on edge of small plots with dry mielies. Air gunner follows all of them with gun as we pass in case someone opens up, but all deserted. It’s almost like a nuclear war has wiped out population. Bush getting very thick as heading toward Zambezi. Can hardly see the ground. Millions of baobab trees in thick bush, also strange skeletons of trees, silver on one side, dark grey on the other side, like they have been frozen on one side. Only the odd low hill. Horizon flat. Fifteen minutes over enemy territory see enemy base ahead. Between us and them a wide sandy river, looks approximately size of Lundi River in dry season. Scene below has changed to thick jungle. K-car heads over enemy base. Camp has already been hit hard but K-car has 20mm HE shells so will keep down anyone who opens up on us. Deserted! Call sign on ground has moved Keith across river and into jungle on other side of river. We make one pass over enemy camp in the Kcar and swoop down across river and into jungle and land on what seems like half a tennis court-sized area cleared by troops. Troopies are anxious. Keith’s sinking and troopies have been unable to get drip up. Why does it have be medic hit? Chopper will have to shut down while I work on him or else we won’t get him back to Rhodesia alive. Troopies lead me over to him. I can see enemy base through trees and across river, tin huts and whitewashed huts surrounded by bush etc. K-car circles overhead and I can hear Cyclone 4 humming a couple of thousand feet above in cloud. Keith still conscious and calm, seems pleased to see us. Says, “Hello sir” in his Chicago drawl. Gives me a very coherent account of his injuries which pleases me. No neurological problems. BP 80/40, tongue surprisingly pink, pulse 100, right leg off just below knee, left leg bad compound fracture just below knee and leg and foot below that just a mangled wreck. It will never be saved. Both limbs a muddy, bloody mess. Right forearm flesh torn away, shaved upper 2/3rds of ulna and some of radius. Right hand mashed. Generally body blackened from blast. Must work fast. K-car on radio, anxious as cannot hold long or fuel will not get him back to Rhodesia. Must get drip into left arm. Pray for vein. If can’t get one will have to do out-drain and choppers cannot wait that long. Several sites destroyed by troopies’ attempts. Site in cubital fossa and it will have to do. Try. Bingo! First time. Drip running fast. More morphine for IV route as Keith still in pain +++, arteries in limbs must be in spasm as no haemorrhage. Must get going, long trip back, pass makeshift stretcher into chopper. Start up, up vertically out of trees. Up in orbit to protect Kcar while he sneaks in to pick up a passenger. K-car shoots up vertically out of trees and troopies melt into jungle. We head back for friendly territory.

Just across border land on old campsite to sort out Keith a little more. K-car circles about, anxious to move on as is G-car as fuel is running out. Five minutes on ground, up and off again. Head for Kotwa. Arrive at Kotwa. Keith still alive so organize change to the Cyclone 4. Stretcher, change drip and new litre R/L [Ringer’s lactate/plasma] and head for Mtoko. Over granite hills again. Weather very bumpy and rough as I sit on floor behind pilot Roger (also US man, Vietnam etc.) and work on Keith. Land Mtoko, take on the necessary, out and on to runway and away again. Still 40 minutes to Salisbury and Keith keeps losing consciousness, looking ghastly grey/yellow and tongue paler by the minute. Oxygen given, another litre R/L up, bicarb given, stimulate with nikethamide. Radio ahead for chopper to meet us and fly immediately to Andrew Fleming. Traffic control to ask AF to have duty orthopaedic surgeon standing by. It’s a very bumpy flight and I am really feeling sick by the time we see Salisbury runway ahead. Roger says roughest he has known it in Africa but we cannot slow down. Land, taxi up to chopper, transfer Keith to chopper, up and away past civilian territory. Salisbury buildings ahead, clean, white and peaceful, past RLI barracks. Round at Hilton Heights and straight onto the helipad. Into ambulance and to casualty. Arrived at 1315 hours, four hours and 15 minutes since Keith stepped on LM. Troopies say it was boosted as crater two metres wide and 18 inches deep. Hand over to Mr. James, orthopaedic surgeon. Thank goodness Keith made it alive. I had my doubts. Back to waiting chopper, back to New Sarum to waiting Cyclone 4, phone home and head back to base again. Arrive at 1515 hours. VR530194 / 061630B: July 1977 Leave on urgent casevac to Tande TTL in Cyclone 7. All I know is one case critical and dying and two others injured. Heading south at treetop level. Usual Mtoko farming area and then over west end of Budjga APA and into Tande. Terraced hills and palm trees below again with ruins, relics of Arab and early Portuguese traders. Beautiful granite kopjes with high blue mountains of Tuyanga to southeast. As we approach the scene we find it is contact and not LM. Surprise, surprise! A DO is on top of high hill and guiding us in. As we approached over some flat area, DO radioes that we are under fire and he has terrorists visual running over flat granite rock below and to right of us. Pilot, (Steve Murray) turns hard right, climbs and rolls onto left side for guns to bear but both tech and myself see no movement now. Into narrow gully between two huge kopjes and out onto land beyond. As we zoom through gully we see two bodies lying in open. On radio to DO we find none of our forces on ground at ambush site. DO and DA (only survivors at scene of ambush and they had to climb huge kopjes nearby to get comms) instructed to return to site for

cover for us. While we are waiting we fly north two kilometers to try and locate terrorists again. DO radioes ten minutes later and we go into gully again and touch down in small clearing on south side and I run into cover. Cyclone 7 up and disappears. I see DO and DA and join them. We are at south end of gully which has kopjes rising a couple of hundred feet on each side with numerous granite rocks to hide behind. 100 metres to north of us large granite rocks in middle of gully. The DO says terrorists were on both sides and behind granite rocks to north. Patrol of Intaf (seven) approached from south and were ambushed from south and from higher on both sides. One cadet and two DAs hit and two DAs took gap and last seen running south. Foremost injured only 15 metres from northern rocks in gully. DO goes right, DA left and I creep up and check for foremost casualty. DO thinks terrorists he shot at and hit are in rocks first ahead. Foremost DA (corporal) dead, I retreat backwards to European cadet but dead, hit through chest three times. Reverse, covering front, to third body, DA, also very dead. I have no work. Heavy firing from north suddenly starts. I’m back in good cover now, didn’t like being exposed out there clutching bodies. Firing is heavy, can hear FNs, AKs and RPDs pumping away. Unable to raise Cyclone 7. DO thinks Intaf/Bailiff chaps coming in to help have been ambushed. Later it turned out they had. No weapons with bodies, presume terrorists have come back and taken them. Still there? Two wounded terrorists just ahead. DA who is nervous ++, thinks that he sees movement ahead, up gully. I order myself, and suggest others follow, up east side of hill and we take up a good defensive position to take what comes. Now getting dark, long shadows and gully in shade. Firing in north stops, Cyclone 7 comes in from north, get communications. We climb down and cover while Cyclone 7 drops two 3 Indep guys and one Shangaan tracker. Cyclone 7 disappears and returns 20 minutes later with identical load, unable to find second ambush as no communications, no flares, no smoke! Drag over bodies into cover, 3 Indep c/s to sleep with them for the night and then to move north to pick up tracks at first light. Me up in Cyclone 7 and now only just able to make out the bush. As we rise up the sun is setting in the east and we head east for lights of Tande base. Arrive and refuel, but unable to get home, so sleep there for the night. Nice supper, old African cook who has retired to Tande TTL, worked in South Africa for 15 years, five of them at the then Government House as cook (one of them) for Field Marshal Jan Smuts. Nice supper with homemade bread etc. Bill Purves is there I find and also Norman Nicholson whose sister went through school with me. They are with 4RR. Bulldust till 2200 hours about war and why we are dying … for what? Black government? Sleep in borrowed sleeping bag. Up at first light. Cyclone 7 back to scene to do trooping of call signs that had moved up during night. Two dead CTs found and dropped with us. Both in new blue denims with AKs. One with

widebrimmed bush hat with ‘Where there is unity there is freedom’ written around the edge. Two DAs who headed south later found to have drifted back to first ambush site and onto second ambush site where they eventually met up with the men of the second ambush. They hid the weapons of dead on their way through; only time they used their heads! 0815 hours uplifted by fixed wing and back to Mtoko. Arrive 0900 hours. 3 September 1977 Leon du Plessis killed today in Thrasher area. Was in a scene and went in with air tech, a Sergeant Underwood. Both killed and Lynx destroyed. Tech went along for the ride. He shouldn’t have been on board.

A letter from 1 Commando To wind up the year, here follows a letter written by an Australian, the late John Foran, to a fellow RLI comrade after the war: … It was nice to hear from someone who has shared the same experiences as me. I have not really kept in touch with ‘the boys’. I had a few nights out with Roy Robinson since returning home but sadly have lost touch with him. He was originally from Tasmania; he served with the 2nd Cavalry in Townsville and Vietnam. Robbo was a very good soldier in the field but a bit of a rogue, which brought him into conflict with the CSM on numerous occasions. He was very likeable and typically Australian. There was Rod Ellison from Western Australia who was best man at my wedding in the RLI chapel. He was working in New Guinea before going to Rhodesia. He is at present working at a hotel in Victoria Falls. I never heard of any previous military service with Rod. Richard Gledhill was another Aussie who was in 1 Commando. He went on to SAS selection and then I think Selous Scouts, but I’m not sure. Terry Tangney and I got on very well. I gave Terry’s parents his sergeants’ mess and commando shields. Pete Binnion was another Aussie in Support Commando. I met Pete in the Round Bar of Le Coq d’Or the first night he arrived in Rhodesia. We had an argument because he had already decided how the Rhodesians should be fighting the war. I will give him his due though; he won a Bronze Cross and they never handed those out with the rat packs. The way the RLI worked in the field with three commandos in the bush and one in town meant that social events with other Aussies in the different commandos were rare. During my three years with 1 Commando (May 1976

to May 1979), I worked with Support Commando on two occasions. Once on the raid into Zambia in October 1978 and once when we were seconded to Support Commando at Inkomo Barracks, awaiting an incursion of approximately 200 terrorists pushing toward Salisbury. This operation was run by Support Commando who acted as stop groups while 1 Commando did the sweep. This was an almighty failure as we swept for miles all day, getting very little for what was on offer. I always knew when we followed Support Commando—Terry’s habit of painting kangaroos on the tail planes of the helicopters was a giveaway. I will now relate a story of a contact we had on Christmas Eve 1977 … We were called out mid-morning from Grand Reef near Umtali. I was in Para 1. There was the K-car, three G-cars, the Dakota, 28 troopies in seven sticks and we had an unknown number of terrorists on this mountain. It was raining quite heavily and continued to rain all day. The three stop groups were deployed and we were dropped behind the mountain. Climbing the rear side we then began to sweep down the terrorists’ side, 16 troopers in extended line. The mountain was honeycombed with natural caves, which we had to clear on the way down. Approaching the base camp we had our first contact. Two terrorists broke cover and tried to run for it. I got one of them. We swept on through the base camp area, securing it before clearing the massive cave alongside. Lieutenant Paul Courtney and I then proceeded along a ledge, about 30 metres wide, to check out the cave. Midway along the ledge we came under fire from automatic weapons. We retreated to cover and marked the cave with a white phos grenade for the Lynx aircraft. We moved back to allow him to drop a Frantan bomb but he hit the wrong target so we climbed up and over the ridge to come at them from the other side. The rain continued to pelt down. On the way down the other side I found myself directly above the entrance of the cave. From my position I could see the lower portion of one terrorist’s legs while he was standing at the entrance to the cave. Informing Paul of this I prepared to toss in two grenades, a WP and an HE. The white phos was a mistake, as in the heavy rain it acted like a smoke screen. One terrorist escaped in the smoke despite the grenades and the bullets we put in there. The rest still refused to come out. We decided on a frontal assault and in this Lieutenant Courtney was killed. The fight dragged on and I fired at least a dozen tear-gas bombs into the cave along with HE grenades.

We were about to use a bunker bomb when they called out to surrender. I moved to my old position above the cave. The terrorists were instructed to come out with their hands up. The first one emerged with his hands behind his back, ostensibly trying to locate our voices. I shot him from point-blank range as he had a grenade in his hands. The next one came out with his hands in the air. Upon questioning him he admitted that one more terrorist remained inside the cave but that he was badly wounded. We sent him back in to bring the other one out. When this was done I entered the cave to check it out. It was deserted. Three AK-47s and one SKS lay on the floor. The wounded terrorist died. Night fell and Christmas Eve was spent on a muddy, wet mountainside with one dead troop commander, three dead terrorists and one prisoner. It was a very sad, very cold, very wet and hungry Christmas Eve. We were uplifted at first light. Lieutenant Paul Courtney was 4 Troop’s officer from when I joined the commando in November 1976 until his death. He was born in Kenya, raised in New Zealand, a graduate of Sandhurst, with two tours of Northern Ireland, one in Cyprus and one in British Guinea. He was a man of courage and respected by his men. He commanded 4 Troop which consisted mainly of foreigners. I still have his para log book in my possession, but I gave all his photos to his father in NZ …

References Alex Binda, draft Masodja—A History of the Rhodesian African Rifles, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, due 2007 Chris co*cks, Firefore—One man’s war in the Rhodesian Light Infantry, 4th edition, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa, 2006 Charles D. Melson, draft ‘The Killing Machine’, 2003 Peter Petter-Bowyer, Winds of Destruction, 30° South Publishers, Johannesburg, South Africa 2005 Barbara Cole, The Elite—The Story of the Rhodesian Special Air Service, Three Knights, Amanzimtoti, South Africa, 1988 Beryl Salt, assisted by Wing Commander Peter Cooke & Group Captain Bill Sykes, A Pride of Eagles: The Definitive History of the Rhodesian Air Force 1920–1980, Covos Day, Johannesburg, South Africa 2001 Charlie Warren, Stick Leader—RLI, Just Done Productions, www.justdone.co.za, Durban, South Africa, 2006

Bruce Kidd aka ‘Jumping Jack Flash—Strength Fives!’

Ian aka ‘Star Wars’ aka ‘Giles’ Gillespie of 12 Troop, 3 Commando. The face veil draped around his neck was arguably one of the most useful items of issue uniform, used for a variety of purposes.

Charlie Warren BCR smiles coquettishly from the cab of a 4.5.

Just another day A Rhodesia Herald reporter filed this story to ‘celebrate’ the New Year. For the RLI Fireforce troops, it was just another day at the office. Ten insurgents were killed in the first contact, eight in the second; one was a woman wearing a green uniform with webbing strapped across her bosom. Nine insurgents died on the third day. Here is his story: … The terrorist is ‘visual’. He is wearing green trousers and a blue shirt and is carrying an AK assault rifle. He moves slowly, casually, across the complex of huts. Smoke from the cooking fires drifts lazily upward towards the grey skies. A small child chases a thin uncared-for dog. Cooking pots are washed in an old oil drum containing water. Another terrorist steps out from one of the huts. He pauses, looks upward to the gomo, his AK slung over his shoulder. He turns and re-enters the hut. The young section leader with the police Support Unit puts down his binoculars and gets on the radio. It is only minutes later that at the Grand Reef military base many, many kilometres away, a siren sounds and fighting men converge on the operations room at the double. Telephones are ringing and messages are shouted out in staccato tones. The Fireforce commander pores over a map. He is a tall, young man and mature beyond his years. He stabs the map with a finger, tracing the outline of the hill feature. “We will drop sticks in here and here, sir,” he says. The base commander nods his head in agreement. “Send it!” he says. There is a tremor in his voice. Within seconds, the helicopters are hovering over the small groups of young soldiers standing beside the runway. They drop and the men run forward, their heads low to avoid the rotor blades. The helicopters nose forward and are airborne. As they sweep away to the nearby gomos, the troopies give the thumbs-up. This is a full Fireforce operation. Young men of the ‘second wave’, their arms, legs and faces covered in thick camouflage grease, clamber aboard trucks. The rain is coming down in torrents; the men don’t smile. There is a fixed grim look on their faces as they drive off into the unknown. Across at the Air Force section, the Fireforce paras have donned their gear and are huddled together beneath plastic sheets seeking shelter from the rain. They don’t know whether they are going to be dropped. They sit and wait, staring straight ahead. They don’t talk.

The Fireforce commander decides where he will place his stop groups, the men on the trucks, and where he will drop his paras. “There are twelve visual,” he tells his men as he emerges from the briefing. There is a murmur of approval. The Fireforce is out to beat its record kill for a bush camp and this number will go a considerable way toward meeting the objective. Tensions have relaxed all round—there is now an eager desire to get stuck in. Then there is the command, “Paras into the Dak.” Five sticks run forward through the pools of mud toward the Dakota. They are in and the ageing giant roars down the runway, then she’s up, up and away. The men still say very little. Their thoughts are on the unknown. They don’t know the type of ‘scene’ they will be dropping into. The helicopters, spanned out across the sky, surge forward, skimming the tops of the gum trees and scattering cattle in the fields below. The police station comes into view. The helicopter pilot banks sharply to the left and drops for a soft landing in a field. The rotor blades splutter to a halt and other helicopters land, throwing up a smokescreen of dirt, leaves and grass. This is the first rendezvous point. At a briefing, the police tell the Fireforce commander that 12 terrorists have been ‘visual’. They are all in and around the kraal complex. Maps are studied. If the terrorists run, in which direction will they head? The huts are fairly isolated but there is a thickly wooded hill feature on one side and open ground and a river on the other. There is also a mealie field and a thick crop of bananas. The helicopters are four minutes away from the scene. As they approach, the Support Unit call sign radios to say the terrorists have started to break. “They are going in all directions,” he yells. “Don’t panic!” the Fireforce commander replies with the calm of a veteran. He has the kraal located and hovers while the troops are landed. The terrorists fire two RPG-7 rockets. They are both way off direction. “Cheeky!” says the Fireforce commander. The Dakota is almost overhead. The commander is in radio contact with the pilot. He wants the scattering terrorists. “How many sticks?” asks the pilot. “All five!” The men are gone within seconds, immediately cutting off one escape route. The weather has cleared considerably by now but there is a crosswind

and the men tend to drift. One hurts his ankle against a rock as he lands; another damages his neck—two minor casualties. Two terrorists running for the river come face to face with the para-drop, stop and head back toward the kraal. They run straight into FN fire and drop instantly like two stones without so much as a whimper. The security forces have the kraal virtually surrounded. Most of the terrorists make for the shelter of the banana trees. On the hill feature, security forces are firing at those terrorists still seeking shelter among the huts. One has placed a blanket around his shoulders and surrounded himself with small children, pretending to be a village woman. He is shot from 100 metres and the AK falls out of the folds of the blanket. The children scatter, terrified. Without warning, a terrorist pops up from behind a rock a few metres in front of the security forces’ position on the hill feature. He doesn’t live long enough to pop down again. The main battle concentration has moved to the banana trees; it provides thick cover and in all, the fight goes on for more than five hours. In this time, one terrorist surrenders waving a white flag. “I have never seen that before,” says the Fireforce commander. The Fireforce sweeps forward, three men move in single file to search a rock feature. A terrorist emerges from the shadows unseen. He aims his AK but it has jammed and he is captured. In come the helicopters, first to evacuate the civilians injured in crossfire, then to carry away captured terrorists. They are stripped of all clothing except their trousers and blindfolded. They are met at the second rendezvous point by Special Branch. Civilians suspected of actively assisting the terrorists are taken to the same rendezvous point. There is initial questioning and one old man is immediately released. The others climb into the back of a truck and are driven away. The helicopters fly out the bodies, captured equipment and personal belongings. The troopies at the rendezvous point search the bodies and strip them of webbing. Tucked inside a magazine is a letter from a girlfriend. They carry cigarettes, charm beads to protect them from death, and spare clothing. This particular battle is over. The men are being flown back to the rendezvous point for the long ride back to base. Their parachutes are being collected. They look like a line of dead bodies—there is no comment. They have been out here for five hours and their faces record the strain. Then someone reads an entry on one of the captured documents—‘We were never

told about the power of Fireforce on the other side,’ the terrorist had written. The troopies laugh.

A bad day for the Air Force Beryl Salt in A Pride of Eagles highlights the dangers the Fireforce aircrews faced on a daily basis: … During a major contact with insurgents 12 January 1978, the airborne Army commander was wounded and unable to continue to control the battle. Flight Lieutenant Gerrit Francois du Toit, flying an Alouette III, took over command of all the Army stop groups and deployed them to surround and cut off the terrorists. For the remainder of the day-long battle, during which he flew for six and a half hours, Flight Lieutenant du Toit continued to command the operation. He later received the Military Forces Commendation (Operational). Norman Maasdorp was the pilot of one of the G-Cars: ‘On 12 January 1978, I was part of the Mtoko Fireforce cleaning up after a lemon to the west of Mtoko when the K-car with Chas Goatley and Ian Fleming was ambushed as they went through the Nyadiri River gap just west of the base. We heard that ‘Flamo’ Fleming had been hit and the rest of us packed up and moved out asap to carry out a follow-up. We returned to Mtoko where Henry Jarvie and I refuelled, picked up a fresh RAR stick and returned to the area where Flamo had been shot. Chas, who was back running the scene as K-car pilot, guided me to an LZ, and as soon as I had it visual he broke away to attend to something else. As I entered the LZ there was instant pandemonium and we came under heavy RPD fire. I can remember the bullets striking, sounding like a myriad of strange loud cracking noises—nothing like one hears on the movies. Henry slumped over onto the middle of the floor and the troopies just froze, not knowing what to do. The instrument panel seemed to vibrate and vanish as all the radios and instruments were shot to pieces. My legs also seemed to feel a bit funny and there was a sting going up both of them. The collective lever immediately became very heavy owing to the loss of hydraulics, so with maximum effort I just pulled like heck and flew out and tried to get away as far as possible. I was unable to get hold of anybody as the radio was out. I was concerned that there might be possible structural failure and even fuel leakage, so I put down in an LZ that I hoped would be safe from attack.

Once on the ground I found that the stick commander had been shot through both his leg and hand, so I took over command of his stick and placed them in a defensive circle to guard us. I was unable to walk and was not sure why, so I crawled around the chopper to check on Henry but when I got to him I could see he was dead. Under the chopper was a loud gushing noise, and looking underneath I could see the fuel pouring out at quite a rate as there was a large hole in one corner of the fuel tank. I was relieved that I had landed and had not kept going. I then crawled back to the stick commander to see if 1 could help him. I gave him first aid and painkillers and then took his radio to call for help. The shock had by this time set in and I could barely make a coherent transmission. Eventually 1 was able to speak, and the other K-car tasked Al Thorogood to casevac us out of there. I nearly got left behind as nobody realized I could not walk and I had to call him back to fetch me. It turned out there was shrapnel in my legs and heel. According to the techs who examined the aircraft afterwards, they were amazed that I had received such light injuries considering the extent of bullet damage around the pedal area.’ Flight Sergeant Alexander Ian Fleming, flying as a technician/gunner for Air Lieutenant Chas Goatley, was killed by fire from the ground about two minutes flying time west of Mtoko …

Politics Having conceded majority rule, Smith and the moderate black leaders within the country in early March sat down to hammer out a new constitution. In The Struggle for Zimbabwe: ‘On 3 March, Smith, Muzorewa, Sithole and Chirau had met in the Governor’s Lodge in Salisbury under a portrait of Cecil Rhodes and signed an internal agreement for a one-year transitional arrangement leading to the hyphenated state of Zimbabwe–Rhodesia.’ There would be an election. The new Parliament would have 100 seats, 28 of them reserved for whites. Any amendments to the new constitution would require the approval of 75 percent of the House. The Patriotic Front of Mugabe and Nkomo had been invited to participate in the process but both rejected the plan out of hand. They also both announced their intention to disrupt the forthcoming elections. In the new ‘Government of National Unity’ (the Transitional Government) each ministerial post was shared by a black and white minister and the country was ruled by an executive council. As far as

the British government was concerned none of this was progress. The United Nations Security Council also snubbed the agreement and the war continued unabated.

Operation Turmoil Beryl Salt again: … Mention had been made during 1976 of a ZIPRA camp on the Zambezi River close to the village of Kavalamanja in Zambia. The name of the camp, which was said to contain Chinese instructors, was given as Feira Base. During August and September 1977, the name cropped up again. Air reconnaissance was carried out but nothing unusual could be found on the photographs. Toward the end of June 1977, an SAS team was sent in. These men reported a large Zambian army presence but no guerrillas. However, radio intercepts kept coming up with references to ‘freedom fighters’ in the area. These reports seemed to indicate a small camp and as other areas were more urgent, Feira Base was ignored. Then on 6 February 1978, a radio intercept relayed some startling information that, owing to a shortage of food at Feira Base, offensive exercises had been suspended. Suddenly Feira Base became top priority. Army personnel were placed on the Rhodesian bank of the Zambezi opposite Kavalamanja to keep watch and they confirmed the presence of ZIPRA cadres. A platoon scouting the Rhodesian bank further upstream surprised a group of ZIPRA crossing the river. The security forces opened fire. The dead ZIPRA men together with some survivors floated downstream in their inflatable boats and as they drifted past the observation post the troops manning the post opened fire. This was unfortunate because it revealed the presence of security forces in the area. Fire was returned by the ZIPRA forces at Kavalamanja, and soon a battle was in full swing with mortars and machine guns hammering away across the river. A Hawker Hunter was called in and the enemy ceased firing. The question now was, knowing that there was a security force presence in the area, would the ZIPRA forces pull out of Feira. No aerial reconnaissance could be carried out because of unfavourable weather, so on 1 March, Chris Schulenburg and Sergeant Chibanda were dropped by helicopter into the mountains west of Kavalamanja. By the following night they were in position overlooking the camp. Their task was

to ascertain the type and quantity of any defensive weapons, particularly antiaircraft guns, to identify the various sections of the camp and estimate the number and status of the occupants. They had to act with caution because the Zambian Army base was only about ten kilometres away. The two men passed their information back to the Scouts at headquarters and plans were developed for an attack. Two commandos of the Rhodesian Light Infantry, one company RAR, and members of the SAS were chosen for the task. The plan was that the SAS would drop in to the north, carrying anti-tank weapons to block the road, and guard against an attack from the Zambian army. Operation Turmoil as it was code-named was scheduled for 0800 hours on Sunday 6 March 1978, but it had to be delayed for two hours because of low cloud and heavy rain. Hawker Hunters went in first to neutralize the anti-aircraft positions. The Canberras followed. Coming in at low level from the southwest along the course of the Zambezi, they unloaded their Alpha bombs. Behind the Canberras came the paratroop Dakotas, together with the troop-carrying helicopters. The heli-borne troops were put down on the western side of the complex, while the paratroopers were dropped in on the northeast. The army commanders were aloft in fixed-wing aircraft to direct strikes onto any stubborn pockets of resistance. The attack went exactly to plan. Once the troops were on the ground, they began sweeping from the perimeter toward the centre of the camp. However, their advance was delayed by heavy rain and thick bush so that most of the enemy was able to escape into the surrounding scrub. In fact, it was late afternoon before the security forces reached the ZIPRA base area. When darkness fell, the sweep had to be abandoned until the following morning, by which time any ZIPRA cadres still in the area could have made their getaway. Only 42 bodies were found although a large quantity of ammunition was destroyed. During this air strike at least one Strela was fired at the Hunters. Tony Oakley comments: ‘With regard to Strela, we simply accepted that we could not reduce our heat signature on the Hunter. Instead we relied on our speed and the lack of skill of the operators. We certainly had our fair share of Strelas fired at us without success—except one. We actually saw the Strela launch as an opportunity to pinpoint the bastards. Then we could stomp them nicely with the cannon. You simply followed the white smoke trail to the

point of launch. One such occasion was at Kavalamanja when a Strela team launched a couple at Vic Wightman and me from a vehicle. There is something very satisfying about having a vehicle in your gun sights. They found themselves on the receiving end of a large number of 30mm shells.’ Schulie and Chibanda remained to observe for two further days but they only spotted two ZIPRA men who sneaked out of the bush to recce the abandoned camp. On 9 March, a party of Zambian soldiers appeared on foot, foraged around and then left. On 10 March, the SAS men were uplifted by helicopter and flown home … Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Bate, then serving as Brigade Major at 2 Brigade, writes: … I was the overall commander with a small Brigade Tac HQ. In planning the operation I had asked for Major Pat Armstrong to be released from Army HQ to be airborne commander. We kept on having to delay the op due to heavy mist and eventually at about 1000 hours it cleared and the Air Force, led by Hawker Hunters and followed by Canberras, attacked. I recall waiting on the ground at Kanyemba airfield to be airlifted onto a prominent peak overlooking the camp. Just prior to H-Hour, radio silence had been imposed and was broken exactly on time by the lead Hunter. Shivers went down my spine when I heard the words “Turning in live” from Red 1. The initial assault by RLI made slow progress due to thick bush and trees. Fighting was fierce and we reinforced the SAS stop group who were based on the incoming road from Feira with a call sign of Selous Scouts. Unfortunately the SAS were not aware that the Scouts were dressed in normal terrorist garb and opened fire. Luckily casualties were light. I had 1 Brigade Signals detachment with me and we were monitoring the Zambian Army frequency. Feira was calling for help and Zambian Army HQ kept telling them no one was available as they were all out to lunch. Eventually they got their act together and sent reinforcements. It was getting late in the afternoon and we still had not cleared the objective and had taken casualties. Hunters patrolling overhead reported a column of Zambian Army troop carriers approaching. Bearing in mind the difficulty we were having in clearing the objective I did not wish our troops to be compromised or endangered in any way while still fighting. I therefore authorized the Hunters to take out the Zambian Army convoy, which they did with deadly efficiency …

Trooper Giles ‘Star Wars’ Gillespie, 3 Commando, was on the ground: … The day of 6 March 1978 dawned with heavy rain and overcast conditions and we awoke, as always before a big ‘external’, feeling nervous and anxious but also excited. We had been briefed the previous evening on the plan to attack a ZIPRA base camp in Zambia, just on the northern side of the Zambezi River, near a village named Kavalamanja. The camp had been under surveillance on the Zambian side for a number of days by ‘Schulie’ and Sergeant Chibanda of the Selous Scouts. Using the typical modus operandi to attack a large camp, air strikes by Hunters and Canberras would go in first, with heliborne troops to be placed to the west and paratroops to the northeast of the camp immediately afterward, with the Zambezi River to the south and a flood plain to the east to complete a rough encirclement of the camp. We of 3 Commando would be part of the paratroop deployment from Dakotas while 1 Commando and a company of the RAR were also participants, with the SAS to be involved in securing the road north from the camp to the town of Feira where there was a Zambian Army camp. My heart sank as we were now informed that the operation was on hold for the moment due to the weather conditions—this was my first big external and I didn’t want to miss it! Soon, however, the weather started to clear and we were told that we would drop in at 1000 hours—it was on! We put on and checked our equipment and parachutes and clambered awkwardly into the six waiting Dakotas. After taking off, as usual there was mainly silence as we sat smoking and prepared ourselves mentally for battle, perhaps offering some prayers silently upstairs, something far more common than might be supposed from a bunch of tough, irreverent, hell-raising troopies. I think we were the first Dak in line and I remember looking out the window and seeing the others flying alongside, a most impressive and uplifting sight. It wasn’t quite a D-Day-sized force, but nevertheless very significant for our time. Finally, after a flight of maybe half an hour, the call came: “Stand up, hook up, check equipment,” and the butterflies in my stomach really started to go crazy. I believe we had four sticks of four men each in the Dak, and I was in the middle somewhere. The red light came on, and our front man stood to the door, then in no time at all the green flashed and the dispatcher was piling us out as fast as possible at about 600 feet above ground. The adrenaline rush was exhilarating as I was greeted by fresh air and felt the canopy billowing open above me. As I looked around and down from the air I was greeted by a sight I will never forget for the rest of my days—a Hawker Hunter actually

delivering its dive-bombing run onto the camp, directly in front of and below me—what a grandstand view! Seconds later my fall was arrested by the trees of the dense undergrowth, more like jungle, that surrounded the camp. Landing in trees was often unavoidable and usually less of a problem than might be imagined—the speed you were going meant that your momentum usually carried you through injury-free and you ended up somewhere near the ground. I managed to clamber out of my harness, reach the ground and looked around for my stick leader and the other members of my stick, who fortunately had all landed close by. The reasons for using such a low height for dropping paratroopers, usually five to six hundred feet above ground and virtually untried elsewhere in the history of warfare, were twofold—it gave less time as a target in the air from the ground, and enabled troops to land close together. There were a few last bombs going off for the moment, and some sporadic gunfire, otherwise it was eerily quiet. At the end of a good rainy season the bush in the area was unbelievably dense, and caused us huge problems in the ensuing two days. We left our parachutes where they were for the moment, formed up into a long sweep line and started advancing toward the camp. However, due to the number of troops involved, the difficulty of forcing our way through the bush and the necessity to maintain a straight line where you could clearly see the man on your left and right, we constantly had to stop, wait and reform the sweep line. We were literally clawing our way through heavy undergrowth. The oppressive heat and humidity was also sapping our strength and within minutes our clothes were soaked through with sweat. On this op we had been dropped too far from the base itself, and it took us a long time to get there. For the first several hours we did not come across any hiding or fleeing enemy, although we could hear some action going on elsewhere. At one point the Canberras were recalled to drop their 500-pound bombs somewhere close by, and the earth literally shook with the resulting force. I always found that—before going into battle—fear was very real, but once you were on the ground and advancing toward or through an enemy position, this fear was pushed to the back of your mind. It was too important to concentrate hard on surveying the ground ahead of you, looking for enemy or any areas where he might be hiding. By mid-afternoon, my three fellow stick members succumbed to heat exhaustion and had to be casevaced by chopper back to the forward base area just inside Rhodesia. I was also offered a ride out but fortunately I had

not suffered to the same degree and so I asked to stay. We had been the last 3 Commando stick in our section of the sweep line, and there were 1 Commando sticks around us, so I tagged onto one of them instead. As we approached the main camp area in the late afternoon, things started to hot up. We suddenly came under heavy fire from a dense section of bush in front of us, although we couldn’t see anything there at all. We dropped to the ground and fired back lobbing some white phosphorus, or ‘Willy Peter’, grenades as well. Guys to my left and right, both from 1 Commando, were hit by small-arms fire but fortunately did not receive life-threatening wounds, as with darkness upon us it was too late to call in the choppers to casevac. The medics had to dress the wounds, put up drips and tend to them there. We stayed there for the night. During the night there seemed to be constant firing everywhere, with tracer bullets zipping spectacularly through the air in all directions. We weren’t sure who was firing at whom and although some tracers appeared alarmingly close, we were no longer under any immediate threat. We laid low, comforted the wounded, tried to snatch some sleep and waited until morning. At first light one or two choppers casevaced the wounded and re-supplyed us with water in cans. It had been so hot and exhausting the previous day that most of us had just about used up all our water. We then reformed the sweep line and kept going. Not long after we had resumed, Lieutenant ‘Bambi’ Thornton of 3 Commando, a little to my right but within my sight, almost tripped over a terrorist who had been hiding in the long grass, obviously hoping we would pass on without noticing him. Fortunately Bambi was able to gather his wits first and put a quick end to him. We now came to the perimeter of the camp proper, which was pretty much deserted. However, there was still action going on elsewhere in the vicinity, and I remember hearing an action on the radio where Trooper Frank Battaglia, also of 3 Commando but in another part of the battle zone, was unfortunately killed in action. In his thirties, Frank had originally fought in Vietnam with the 81st Airborne, joining the commando at the same time as me and was with me throughout Training Troop. His wife had joined the Rhodesian Air Fore as a parachute packer, his younger brother Dennis joined the RLI, ending up in 3 Commando. His was a sad loss; the only one in the operation, I believe. We spent some time going through the now-deserted camp, carrying out supplies, arms and ammunition left by the terrorists and gathering a few mementoes along the way. I scooped up a Warsaw Pact conventional army

helmet which I still have to this day. We were then taken to where we’d left the parachutes the day before, and spent some considerable time gathering them up for recovery by helicopter, not an easy task given that most were snarled in trees and we were all now quite exhausted. I remember that we had run low on water again but the Air Force guys wouldn’t re-supply us until we had recovered all the ’chutes—they weren’t popular! We then jumped into waves of departing helicopters which took us over the river back to the forward base camp in Rhodesia. All in all 42 ZIPRA terrorists were killed out of an estimated total of 150. The camp did not function again, so the operation was a success, although if the terrain hadn’t been so difficult and we’d been able to reach the main camp earlier on the first day, the kill rate would have been considerably higher … Charlie Warren of 3 Commando mentions: … The timing of the operation was delayed due to the thick bush that surrounded the camps. The going was hectic for all troops involved, and there were contacts taking place throughout the day. Due to the thick bush, the sweep line failed to reach the camp complexes by last light and had to ambush the site that they were in. The stop groups had contacts throughout the night. The following morning, the sweep line cleared the camp complexes. The total number of ZIPRA killed amounted to 42. The remainder of the terrorists escaped through the thick bush. Added to this there were too few stop groups around the camp to prevent these terrorists from getting away—another lesson that was to be learnt from planning camp attacks with too few assault troops. We (3 Commando) and the assault force as a whole lost one man in this attack … Ian Bate again: … I do not remember how many kills we achieved that day but it was a substantial number. Again, the main point of the attack to disrupt ZIPRA build-up had been achieved. More importantly we captured the latest Russian Strela anti-aircraft missile which was starting to give our Air Force problems. This weapon together with a sizeable cache of goods was returned to Salisbury post haste. I understand that it was sent to CSIR in Pretoria for evaluation so that counter tactics could be worked out. Late that evening I was called to the radio to speak to General Walls. The general was understandably highly pissed off with me for creating an international incident by authorizing the destruction of the Zambian Army column. He proceeded to give me a right royal roasting. When I was able to tell him why I had done it his reply was: “Why didn’t you tell me before?” General Walls

always supported his field commanders and nothing more was said about the incident. In my opinion this was a very successful operation. Credit must be given to Schulie who pinpointed the base and was able to guide us in to the attack. I was most fortunate to have the command of the Brigade Tac HQ on many internal and external operations. This stood me in good stead for when I took over as CO of RLI on 26 June 1978 …

‘Ceasefire’ and SFAs As regards security, black Rhodesians were now to be conscripted—hardly necessary as more and more blacks were, and had always been, applying to join the security forces—more than could be accommodated. The regular army was 68 percent black and 32 percent white; the regular police force was 80 percent black and 20 percent white; the Guard Force was 87 percent black and 13 percent white. Muzorewa and Sithole, both of whom claimed large ‘insurgent’ followings were now tasked to ‘put their money where their mouths were’ and bring these supporters to heel so that they could be trained to fight for the new government. This arrangement required the formulation of a ceasefire policy for these former, so-called insurgents. These supporters became known as Pfumo re Vanhu (Shona) and Umkonto wa Bantu (Sindebele), literally ‘The Spear of the People’. They were never as effective as hoped but proved useful in their own tribal areas in keeping, in their own words, ‘the Mugabes and Nkomos’ at bay. Initial training (four weeks) was provided by the Selous Scouts and later the RAR. From an initial 3,000 the SFAs (Security Force Auxiliaries) grew to over 10,000 by 1979, most of them local civilians, with only a few former true insurgents. The text of the Ceasefire Circular issued by Combined Operations Headquarters on 19 August 1978 read as follows: Introduction 1. The following information is to be notified to all units under command. 2. Formal Safe Return Policy (SRP) The Formal Safe Return Policy (Surrender Policy) introduced at the end of last year was aimed at significantly reducing the CT force levels. As was stated at the time, the benefits flowing from the SRP would include the following:

a. A reduction in the ability of the CTs to inflict casualties on the civilian population. b. A possible reduction in Security Force casualties. c. An ultimate end to the war being brought closer. d. A significant improvement in the flow of intelligence. e. A lowering of CT morale. 3. The failure of the formal SRP can be attributed to the reluctance of the CTs to surrender because there was no political incentive. 4. De-escalation of the war The Executive Council, on taking office, stated that its priority task was to bring about a ceasefire. There are several important points that should be noted in this context: a. It is a fact that in the view of the Anglo-Americans the entire credibility of the Transitional Government hinges upon its ability to bring about an effective ceasefire. b. In general terms, the spheres of influence of the black members of the Executive Council lie within ZANLA forces. Phase I of the ceasefire exercise must therefore be directed towards this target group. c. Because of the above, ZIPRA forces must be considered as a Phase II operation, although every opportunity will be exploited during Phase I to embrace this element. Phase I 5. Implementation Phase I has commenced. This began as a covert operation for the following reasons: a. It was essential that the CT groups opposed to the Salisbury Agreement should be denied the opportunity of interfering with the operation at its inception. b. The establishing of the necessary contacts and the creation of mutual trust and confidence was an extremely delicate operation. It is vital that this was conducted on a strictly ‘need to know’ basis. 6. Procedures It must be fully appreciated that not only was it impossible to require prosettlement CTs physically to lay down their arms but it is in our direct

interests to have them actively support the Salisbury Agreement and commit themselves to engaging the common enemy. 7. The groups operate in designated areas (circ*mscribed and prescribed) within TTLs/APLs. In the interests of their own security they are not permitted to operate outside their designated areas without the prior approval of the Controlling Authority. Their laid-down and accepted functions are: a. To prevent enemies of the State entering or occupying their designated area in whole or in part. b. To provide intelligence. c. To assist the Transitional Government and Civil Administration in all civil aspects affecting the designated areas regarding important issues such as: i. The dipping of cattle to prevent diseases such as Red Water and Gall Sickness; ii. Control the movement of cattle in the event of Foot and Mouth disease; iii. The re-opening of schools, clinics and other public services necessary for the wellbeing of the people; iv. Obtain the co-operation of the people in such matters as directed by the DC (District Commissioner). d. To give assistance to the BSA Police in the maintenance of peace in their designated area. e. There will be no need for any physical contact with pro-settlement CT groups by members of the Security Forces, except those mentioned in paragraph 8. 8. Co-ordination Co-ordination of the groups will fall within the normal chain of command i.e. JOC, Sub-JOC, with the normal administration of the area in which the group operates, being conducted by the DC or his representative. The team responsible for the co-ordination will consist of: a. An SB officer. b. An Army officer. c. The Commander of the Group. d. A Nationalist Party official.

e. An Internal Affairs representative, where applicable. 9. Direct liaison is to be maintained between the SB/Army officers and the JOC and Sub-JOC. 10. Implications It is fully accepted that calculated risks are being taken in this operation; these are inevitable. The maintenance of the groups will be the responsibility of the Government and will be carried out by the controlling authority. This manner of control is essential to avoid the possibility of the groups being obliged to live off the local population. Groups which contravene the spirit of the ceasefire will be considered as defectors and therefore enemies of the state. 11. It must be clearly understood that the authority to take action against offenders is vested in Combined Operations HQ. Should such action be contemplated, full reasons will be required by ComOps HQ from the JOC involved. 12. The benefits that can result from this operation will include: a. Those referred to in paragraph 1. b. Additional forces will become available to combat the common enemy. c. By reducing the number of hostile areas, troop density can be increased to combat CTs in other areas. d. The possibility of the operation gaining momentum and expanding through compounding successes. Conclusion 13. It is a fact that the Salisbury Agreement will stand or fall on the ceasefire operation. It is, therefore, incumbent upon all to cooperate fully and to make it work. The creation of an atmosphere of mutual trust and confidence is essential and although it is accepted that this may be difficult, it must be achieved. 14. Those groups that support the Interim Government are referred to as ‘Security Force Auxiliaries’. Those outside designated areas are classed as enemies of the state and are referred to as ‘CTs’.

Atrocities and Operation Splinter

In spite of the fact that Mugabe had been raised a Catholic, this year, the ever-present anti-religious sentiments of the insurgents were again demonstrated when ZANLA murdered eight British missionaries at Elim Mission near the Mozambican border. On 3 September, Nkomo’s ZIPRA shot down a civilian Viscount airplane (Viscount Hunyani) and murdered the survivors. In a later television programme, using live satellite link-up and hosted by David Frost, Rhodesians watching at home were appalled to hear the British audience applaud as Nkomo claimed responsibility for this act. At the end of the year the insurgents scored their most spectacular coup of the war by blowing up the huge oil complex in Salisbury’s industrial sites. At this stage of the conflict ZANLA claimed to have over 13,000 insurgents in the country. ZIPRA had ‘re-activated’ itself, forming their Northern Front Region, which was countered by the Rhodesians opening the Operation Splinter area along the entire length of Lake Kariba. (The Rhodesians persisted in their rather confusing practice of referring to an operational area as an ‘operation’. It was confusing because one-off raids such as Operation Dingo were also referred to as operations.)

Fireforce matters General Sir Walter Walker, former NATO commander, writing in the Times in January 1978, said of the Rhodesians: … Their army cannot be defeated in the field, either by terrorists or even a more sophisticated enemy. In my professional judgement, based on more than 20 years’ experience, from lieutenant to general, of counter-insurgency and guerrilla-type operations, there is no doubt that Rhodesia now has the most professional and battleworthy army in the world today for this particular type of warfare. Here is a breed of men the like of which has not been seen for many a long age … The concept and composition of Fireforce has already been explained but by the end of 1977, various problems had become obvious to those involved in Fireforce operations. The main two were: a) The insurgents themselves were evolving tactics to evade an impending Fireforce arrival and b) The talk-ons by OPs—Selous Scouts and RAR—were often being mis-read. As a result there were mass escapes of fully armed insurgents. In a move to remedy this, a meeting on Fireforce tactics was held at KGVI Barracks on 9 May 1978. The meeting was chaired by Brigadier H. Barnard, as DG Combined Operations and addressed by Lieutenant-Colonel. R. F. Reid-Daly,

commander of the Selous Scouts. Also present were Group Captain Norman Walsh of Combined Operations; Group Captain N. K. Hemsley of Air HQ; Colonel Leon Jacobs of JOC Repulse; Lieutenant-Colonel Mike Shute, CO 1RAR; Lieutenant-Colonel John McVey, CO 2RAR and Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Bate, CO 1RLI. Speaking in his usual succinct and direct manner ReidDaly outlined the current insurgent tactics being used to counter Fireforce actions: a. The enemy was positioning two ‘air sentries’ well away from their camp concentration with the sole function of listening for aircraft. b. On hearing approaching aircraft i.e. Fireforce, the enemy would be warned and, if the Fireforce appeared to be reacting to their position, they would immediately begin to leave the area in ones and twos (bomb-shell) and then meet up again at a pre-arranged RV. If the aircraft overflew they would move back to their base. c. Depending on the type of terrain the insurgents would either hide their weapons and act as locals or they would retain them and stick to thick undergrowth while moving away. Reid-Daly pointed out that it was a misconception that Selous Scouts operators only called out Fireforce to an actual sighting. They would also call out Fireforce on a ‘behaviour pattern’ and this fact would be stated when making the request. The following factors, continued Reid-Daly, would favourably affect the outcome of a Fireforce reaction: a. Target indication had to be immediate and accurate. Fireforce commanders were asked to be patient as many Selous Scouts call signs (the OPs) were AS (African Soldiers) with English their second language. b. On arrival Fireforce needed to react swiftly. They needed to note the advice of the Selous Scouts OP as they had an intimate and detailed knowledge of the area and as such would be aware of likely enemy escape routes. c. If and where possible the Fireforce should approach from behind the OP. This was because the OP, if manned by African soldiers, prepared their talk-ons in advance. If the Fireforce approached from a different direction the OP could be thrown into confusion. d. The K-car should, if possible, maintain a low level while being talked

onto target to obviate the problems normally experienced with highflying aircraft. Reid-Daly concluded by emphasizing that time spent on planning a Fireforce deployment would produce better results—though this obviously could not be taken to extremes. It was decided that Combined Operations HQ would issue a Fireforce call-out procedure, the salient points of which would be: a. The call-out of Fireforces would be made directly to JOCs. The requesting agency would simultaneously contact the Fireforce on the army command net so that three-way discussion could take place. The JOC would have the ultimate say on whether the Fireforce should be committed. b. Briefings for Fireforce deployments were to be standardized and conducted ‘under one roof’. c. Time spent on good briefings produced the best results. d. All Fireforces to use a joint ops room to maintain continuity and uniformity of briefing. It was agreed that the present (and optimum) composition of Fireforce i.e. one K-car and three G-cars should not be decreased.

The Troopie statue Back at the RLI, a proposal for a memorial statue was mooted. The Cheetah records: … A memorial statue is to be cast in bronze of a typical trooper of Rhodesia’s crack airborne light-infantry regiment, the RLI. This life-size statue will stand on a plinth in the centre of the ‘Holy Ground’ [a large circle in front of Battalion HQ, so named as in the original plans for the barracks, an open-air pulpit was designed to stand in the centre of the circle, for use during church parades] in the RLI Barracks. The statue to ‘The Incredibles’ will commemorate those members of the battalion who have died in action from the beginning of the war. Over this ten-year period a total of 52 members of the unit have been killed in action and eleven have died while on border-control operations. There were a total of 29 non-operational deaths during this period. In return the RLI has achieved the highest kill rate of any

unit in the war. Although reluctant to release complete terrorist casualty figures accounted for by this remarkable unit, it is believed that they number in the thousands. Renowned for their aggressiveness and professionalism, the RLI has been the spearhead of the nation. In addition to the statue being erected in the centre of the ‘Holy Ground’, the surrounding ‘Holy Ground’ is to be re-organized and the area suitably prepared to add to the beauty of the memorial. Furthermore the chapel will undergo major renovations, including a complete re-fitting of the pews and general furnishing as a mark of respect to those who have given their lives for the country. The design of the statue has been undertaken by Captain Blackman and will be cast in bronze in Rhodesia by Mr. R. Fiorini …

A sad and gruesome sight. The larger pictures depict a massacre by ZANLA in the Sinoia area of Lomagundi in 1978. Such acts of barbarity were beyond comprehension, other than to negate any ‘hearts and minds’ campaigns by the Rhodesians in their (futile) efforts to get the locals ‘on sides’. ZANLA in particular used terror tactics as a matter of routine and would totally wipe out the inhabitants of a targeted kraal—men, women and children—on an apparent whim, or to transmit some perverse, inexplicable lesson. Summary executions and torture were also used as a matter of course with dismemberment being commonplace. As seen in the strip pictures top left, even the livestock was not immune.

Lieutenant-Colonel Ian Bate writes: … Not long after I assumed command of the battalion, I was scratching through my desk when I found a note by Lieutenant-Colonel Derry MacIntyre. A great CO of the battalion. He had doodled some thoughts on an RLI memorial. I got thinking about it and reckoned it was about time that we had a separate memorial to all the brave RLI men who had passed on to higher service. I called in RSM Ken Reed

and fielded the idea to him. His reaction was extremely positive and in no time we had a prototype picture of a trooper resting on his rifle with his hands over the muzzle, strictly incorrect but nevertheless true to his nature. Next we had to sort out how to raise funds to do it. We then had a brilliant idea which was to involve the Regimental Association of ex-members. Wally Watson, then chairman, convened a meeting and again our idea was greeted with great enthusiasm. Wally quickly mustered his committee of volunteers and soon a national advertising campaign was launched. The event really caught the imaginations of the Rhodesian public. Money came in from fundraising campaigns all over the world. The Association did a proud job and raised not only sufficient money to pay for our statue but also to completely revamp the regimental chapel. Army HQ also came to the party with the donation of empty cartridge cases (from which the statue was cast), arranged by my good friend Colonel Mike Shute. Captain Mike Blackman finalized all the diagrams and arranged for a sculptor, Mr. Romillo Fiorini, to cast the statue. Major Pat Armstrong, the battalion 2IC, did sterling work coordinating the project … On the subject of memorials, on 30 November, Mrs. Gilly Parker, wife of the late Colonel Dave Parker, officially opened ‘The Dave Parker Memorial Squash Court’. Fundraising for the court had begun in late 1977 with WO1 Len Monson, the battalion’s chief fitness instructor, directing the project. When finished, the court, which was of international standard, had seating capacity for 150 spectators. It was overlooked by the pub whose patrons could enjoy the best of both.

Notes A new CO On 26 June 1978, Lieutenant-Colonel Ian ‘Tufty’ Bate was appointed Commanding Officer of the RLI in succession to Lieutenant-Colonel Peter Rich. He had previously served as commander of 10 Troop, 2 Commando in the late 1960s. He recalls: … I was totally stunned to be awarded what to me was the highest honour in the Army—to command the RLI. Shortly after rejoining, we were called to do an op into Mozambique where we would use a Canadair aircraft to drop troops for the first time. This turned into a nightmare. Fortunately no one was badly hurt. I nearly had to jump out myself without the benefit of previous para training! At the last

moment ComOps relented and laid on a helicopter for me to get to the forward command post. The very first thing I did after this was to become para trained. WO1 Len Monson, the Battalion PTI, put me through hell to try and get me into shape for the course. It was terrible as in my squad I was the oldest. The rest were youngsters who had recently qualified on an SAS selection course. The instructors took great delight in making me do countless press-ups for being last in every competition. Well, the youngsters took pity on me and from then on I was always ‘first’ with the rest in a perfectly straight line behind me. When I took over command of the RLI, Battalion HQ was running JOC Darwin. Shortly afterward the decision was made to keep HQ in reserve. This turned out to be a good decision since we became more and more involved in cross-border and special internal operations. The HQ was then able to provide tactical command where necessary. In the early days of the war all contacts were handled by the BSAP and eventually the JOC system was introduced. However, all decisions had to be made jointly. This did not always work in favour of promoting speedy reaction. Inter-service rivalry really got to ridiculous stages. At my level we were pushing for the ‘Supremo’ concept. A tried and tested formula for command which had proved successful in Malaya; this was partially adopted when Lieutenant-General Walls was appointed Commander Combined Operations in March the previous year. JOCs became too parochial to the detriment of the overall prosecution of the war. The in-fighting for control of Fireforces was unnecessary. The winning concept of massed Selous Scout call signs and a huge Fireforce should have been introduced earlier … ***** The following commando notes are reproduced from a 1978 edition of The Cheetah, the RLI magazine for which the author gratefully acknowledges the writers. Widely read by the troops, the magazine incorporated acerbic wit and tongue-in-cheek humour with its informal newsletter style. With due disregard to rank, it pulled no punches, but always without malice. The magazine was, perhaps unwittingly, an important tool in keeping the average trooper abreast with goings-on in the rest of the battalion. After all, the battalion rarely operated as a single unit and ‘Joe Trooper’ thought little beyond his immediate stick, his own troop and occasionally his commando.

Always time for a game of volleyball.

A 3 Commando makeshift forward base camp in the rainy season.

Sgt. Fraser Brown (2 Commando) with Selous Scouts ‘pseudo terrs’.

3 Commando forward base camp.

Territorial officers pore over a map. TF/TA soldiers (Territorial Force/Army) were part-time soldiers who provided the ‘numbers’ in the Rhodesian Army.

Above and below: A study of a 3 Commando stick leader, Bruce Kidd, in a kraal. Kidd came from a Bulawayo TF unit to the RLI and served with distinction for three years, earning himself a Bronze Cross in the process.

2 Commando troops clearing a village suspected of harbouring ZANLA guerrillas, Op Hurricane.

14 Troop, 3 Commando soldiers return from a recce operation in Zambia. From left: Nick ‘The Greek’ Ambrodias, Budgie Holmes (with MAG and Bergen) and Mark Pilbeam. In January 1979, Pilbeam was shot in the face during a contact in Op Thrasher and blinded.

12 Troop looking gung-ho. The passenger is Bruce Kidd and the driver is Charlie Norris. Standing second from left is Keith Leighton and second from right Ian Foulds.

‘Flex’ Troop aka 12 Troop, 3 Commando—for their fondness of working out. Standing from left: Ian Gillespie, Pete Watt, Trevor MacIlwaine, Dave Greenhalgh, John Connelly, Bruce Kidd, unknown, Gerry Smeiman and Gordon Fry. In front from left: Derek Bowhay, Claude Botha and Ray Wilkins.

2Lt Dave Greenhalgh (at right) and his 12 Troop stick. At left is Ian Gillespie, the gunner is Claude Botha and Pete Watt crouches.

Claude Botha, Nick Fergus, Jerry Stander and Alex ‘Flex’ Nicholls.

A classic sequence of a training jump at Tempe Base, Bloemfontein in the Orange Free State. Without SADF assistance, it would have taken years for the RhAF to have trained the entire RLI. The paras are wearing SADF fatigues, presumably for security purposes. The South Africans didn’t want to overtly appear to be supporting the Rhodesian military, but in truth it was common knowledge that the Rhodesian security forces could not have survived without South African fuel and ammunition.

A training jump near Grand Reef.

Above and below: Security Force Auxiliaries (SFAs), or the grandly termed Pfumo re Vanhu (Spear of the People), was a Rhodesian attempt to reduce the war burden on the white populace and to ‘Africanize’ the war in an effort to confront the guerrillas with their own ilk. Results were mixed—from mediocre to outright failure. On occasion regular troops were called in to quell out-of-hand SFAs, often with bloody results.

The 2 Commando mascot, Aussie the bushpig, sleeps it off. Aussie had a fondness for beer, a habit that was spurred on by the troops. Many was the night that an unsuspecting trooper stumbled to his cot to find Aussie drunkenly splayed out on his pillow.

An Achilles heel. After the closure of the Mozambican border Rhodesia was wholly reliant upon the Beitbridge corridor from South Africa for her imports. The main Salisbury–Beitbridge road, a crucial artery, was an obvious target for ZANLA guerrillas infiltrating through Op Repulse and ZIPRA through Op Tangent. In spite of the heavily protected convoys and a dawn-to-dusk curfew, civilian vehicles fell prey time and again to guerrilla ambushes. Here a tanker burns after being struck by RPG rockets.

Parachute dispatchers give paras a final check-over prior to emplaning.

Assistant dispatcher Warren in the door of a Dak. The swastika taped on the side is a manifestation of his wry humour.

Charlie Warren (with cap) and WOII CSM Terry Miller (face at left), 3 Commando assistant dispatchers, help troops board a Dakota.

On the far left the senior dispatcher on the flight, PJI Tidman, keeps an eye on boarding procedures. The assistant dispatchers by the door are Jimmy Gibson (left) and Johnny Norman (right).

Green light on … “Go!”

Tony Young (Support Commando) assists a fellow comrade into his ’chute.

3 Commando NCOs Chris co*cks (left) and Grant Hughes back at base after a Fireforce action.

Acting Troop Commander L/Cpl co*cks (centre facing left) briefs 11 Troop personnel at Grand Reef prior to a Fireforce call-out. Identifiable are Simon Mesham (far left and within close proximity to his cup of tea on the ground) and Kevin Grace (3rd from left). Because of manpower shortages it was not uncommon for junior NCOs to command a troop. A crouched chopper pilot and tech study the map on the right.

Minutes before flying out on a Fireforce call-out out of Grand Reef. 2 Commando personnel are: Sgt. Pete Keavney (facing the camera), Tprs. Denis Battaglia (front left) and Jakobus Boolsen (front right) with their backs to the camera. Denis (USA) joined the RLI after his brother Frank Battaglia (Vietnam vet and 3 Commando) was killed during Op Turmoil—a cross-border attack against ZIPRA forces in Zambia.

RLI personnel on the embankments of Fireforce Base Grand Reef watching a Dakota come in to land.

The ever-reliable and evertrusty Dak.

Trooper Wayne Hannekom, the model for The Troopie Statue.

1 Commando Operation Hurricane. After a few months absence, The Big Red found itself on Fireforce once again. Although the bush trip was not a record one, it was fairly successful both on and off the field. Off the field, Lt. ‘Orca’ Storey made sure his last fling with the commando was a hefty one, while on the field, 2Lt. Colin Wehlburg was introduced to the ‘crack and thump’ side of operations. So successful was this introduction that towards the end of the bush trip the young subbie had to be loaded into a chopper, so laden was he with grenades and bullets. Wherever he landed there was sure to be a fierce punch-up. During breaks, a hard-core card school was always on the go, Bastard Bridge and Black Bitch being the favourites. Here 2Lt. Bob Graves, the butt of most jokes since the departure of Neil Storey, procured the name ‘Flash’, due to his amazingly sluggish reactions during the hours of play. The commando was visited by General Hickman, and we have since heard he is not too keen to return, having been served raw potato salad over lunch by the normally efficient CSM Edwards. The burly WO2 Edwards in turn earned himself the title ‘Mtoko Mauler’, for reasons best kept quiet. However Big Red is interested to see that a certain Pro-wrestler from that area has since retired. An interesting side line to the bush trip was the fitness kick of the beefy 2IC. Unfortunately on the second day of his rigorous schedule, Lt. Mick Walters found that sharp sprinting after a four-year lay-off was a trifle far-fetched, as did his Achilles tendon. Nevertheless, this injury was accepted with much delight by the Andrew Fleming Hospital nurses, and there was much scheming about whose turn it was on night duty, when Big Mick was wheeled in. Walters, a Robert Redford lookalike, and apparently totally devoid of arrogance, was well regarded by his troop. When he joined 1 Commando, he, as a subaltern fresh from Gwelo’s School of Infantry, wisely did what all subbies should do i.e. consult and confer with the old sweats. Marshall Ross concurs: … Mick Walters was a regular officer, not a national-service subaltern. When he arrived at 1 Commando and took over as 2 Troop commander, he took Ed Nel, Red Kerr and me aside and told us that he knew nothing. He then told us to keep leading the troop until he had learned the ropes. He remained bloody true to his word. One of the very first

jobs he joined us on was to carry out a clandestine OP in the Kandeya TTL. The Kandeya TTL was in the Op Hurricane area and northeast of Mount Darwin. The Ruya River runs through it. Because the locals could spot security forces’ spoor a mile off, we had taken to walking into our OP positions at night, barefoot. This meant being dropped off the back of a moving civilian-type vehicle such as a bread van at dusk and marching off over some very rough country for several kilometres. The first time we did it with Mick the poor bugger really suffered but to his credit never uttered a word. On R&R he didn’t like being addressed as ‘sir’ and insisted on being called Mick. He was a very fair officer and commanded a lot of respect as a soldier as well as an officer. He was a pleasure to work with and he was a top bloke. He loved a drink and even had a number of us back to the officers’ mess for a drink from ‘the fridge’ in his room after all the pubs were closed in town. I believe he got into a fair bit of strife over this because none of the officers would have known about it except for the fact that I hadn’t made it back to the commando block, having fallen asleep on the main pathway leading to the officers’ quarters from the mess—where I was discovered by the acting commando 2IC Lieutenant MacFarlane—who was not amused. MacFarlane was a stickler for maintaining the distinct line between officers and men … The Thrasher bush trip was split, the first month being ground deployment, and then back to Fireforce for two weeks. So it was large packs (loaded mostly with paperbacks), and a spot of pressure on the feet. The lightest pack belonged to Sgt. Stu Taylor, who was often observed moving off on his seven-day deployments with a maximum of two tins (normally chopped ham) strapped to his ancient webbing. Lt. Dick Stent spent his days moving from gomo to gomo, searching for the one best suited to sun-tanning. Anti-tracking in his case was useless, as his trusty sergeant, Merv Bramwell, suffering continually from the dreaded gypo-guts, left a fresh trail wherever the call sign moved. OC Major Fred Watts suffered from this affliction along with the commando, and his IA [Immediate Action] drills in the K-car when nature called were fairly interesting, ensconced as he was inside a chopper, flak jacket, jumpsuit, and in mid-air. It was about this time that Cpl. Ed Nel had the OC in the K-car foxed for a while. Finding himself under pressure with his stick, in thick bush, Ed’s

answer to the high-orbiting choppers call of “Where are you?” was a confident “I am above you … Now!” On the social front: Pride of place goes to the OC and Colleen on the birth of a son (albeit without wings on the right shoulder and a moustache). Congratulations also to Cpls. John Foran and Errol Lottering on their respective weddings. Promotions: OC to major, Neil Storey to Lt, Rich van Malsen to Lt, Tony Edwards to WO2, Jimmy Lynch and Trevor Penna to L/Cpl. Cheers to: Three very prominent members of the commando over the last few years have left, and will be greatly missed. Lt. Ian Scott posted to 4 Brigade, Lt. Rick van Malsen (the aggressive goblin) is the battalion’s new RSO (Regimental Signals Officer), and Lt. Neil Storey has left the Army. We owe much to their hard work and humour and to them a big thanks and good luck. The same to Cpl. Pappy Bolton, posted to Engineers and Al Chambers, on finishing Intakes 156 and 157. General: Once again the Big Red took first prize in the Industrial Section at the Gatooma Show, thanks to Neil Storey and his team, who worked hard to achieve this. The death of Sergeant Coenie Marnewech has saddened the commando. The popular and able Marnie will be greatly missed. Cheers mate. 2 Commando Once more it is time to go to print and update you with the commando. Since the last contribution the commando seems to have travelled many, many miles and has twice had to move literally from one side of the country to the other. This with its inherent puncture breakdowns and mishaps seems to have occupied a fairly large amount of our time. At the last time of writing, the commando, as can be seen from the last notes, was taking flak from a large number of directions. The flak and other things that were flying around appear to have settled somewhat. With the departure of five members of our local Mafia to the glorious holiday resort located in an obscure corner of Brady Barracks [DB], things have almost returned to normal, except that most of the junior NCOs proved to be cardholding members of the Mafia. This has created a problem with leaders. When we say ‘almost to normal’ we mean it. Various members were alleged, by you know who, to be carrying on a very lucrative trade in terr weapons. This led to many searches and long hours of questioning; the boot of a small

car was searched as ‘they’ had it on good int that it contained a 14.5mm heavy machine gun. Alas, they were disappointed and departed, without even a red face. As normal the population of the commando has fluctuated considerably with postings in and out and members leaving on completion of their time. Arrivals: Captain Pete Hean as 2IC, posted in from adjutant. Welcome Pete and hopefully your profound knowledge of administration will greatly assist us. C/Sgt. Stew Hammond as CQ posted in from MT. As Stew is a qualified driving tester the commando can now move legally. 2Lt. Duff Gifford—a national service subbie fresh from Hooters [The School of Infantry in Gwelo] and now OC 8 Troop. Good luck, and don’t burn your body out before we can use you. L/Cpl. Gerry Doyle—having reported him as leaving in the last notes Jerry is now back. His intention to return to Canada came unstuck after a long bout in the Lion’s Den [a Salisbury pub]. On attempting to purchase an air ticket he discovered he had no funds. Sgt. Keavney on temporary attachment—another Brit—we are becoming inundated. Also back with us for a short period are various members of intakes 156 and 157 doing their first TA [Territorial Army] call-up. It’s good to see them back and we hope they enjoy it. Departures: Captain Jesse Hickman across the fence to HQ 2 Brigade. Thanks Jesse for all your work and no doubt you will be a frequent visitor during R&R. WO2 Arthur Budd on posting to 2RAR as RQMS. Good luck Arthur and thanks. L/Cpl. Fig Figuredo, L/Cpl. Richard Bratt, L/Cpl. Ant Boise—on completion of time. Thank you all for your services. Good luck in Civvy Street. Promotions: There have been a few promotions in the commando which probably accounts for our greater turn-over of beer: Cpl. Mick Clayton to sergeant and posted to 6 Troop. L/Cpls. Danny Danielson, Nico Boer and Tony Braunswick to full corporals. Tpr. Steve Devine to l/cpl. … for the second time. Congratulations all of you. Obituaries: It is with great regret we record the death in action of Tpr. André Botes on 22 June 1978. Our deepest sympathy to Mrs. Botes, family and friends. Finally we have a number of wounded and injured members: Sgt. Fraser Brown—minor injury to his leg as a result of an electric detonator going off accidentally. Tpr. Jordie Jordan—shot in the head in a contact. Fortunately it was his head as he has recovered very well and is now on holiday in

Durban, by kind favour of the Terrorist Victims Relief Fund. Tpr. Roger Emery—head injury as a result of a vehicle accident. Now convalescing at Tsanga Lodge [re-habilitation centre in Inyanga, run with great dedication by WO1 Dick Paget and his wife Anne] Tpr. Steve Bacon—shot in the leg in a vehicle ambush. Not serious, just enough to leave a scar to show his grandchildren and tell war stories about. Get well quickly all of you and we look forward to seeing you all back in the fold. 3 Commando Well The Lovers have done it again! For the second bush trip in a row we have proved that we are able to make love and war by beating, for the umpteenth time, the battalion record for the number of kills in a bush tour (a record we held anyway). During 13 June to 25 July 1978 we managed to account for 80 Charlie Tangos (their Last Tango in Mtoko) and in our latest tour, 9 August to 20 September 1978, 84 chenjis (a Lover’s derogatory term for a terrorist) were exterminated. Come on the other commandos—we can’t carry you all the time! See our new training manual All’s fair in love and martial war on general issue to all Lover personnel (or would-be Lovers). Ex-Lovers: Lt. Jug Thornton has passed on to other pastures and has been posted to Battalion HQ for a while. Once again it is noted that the battlehardened Strike Force knew where to look for a true talent. Jug goes nursing his ‘old K-car injury’ after a profitable and exciting tour with The Lovers and we wish him a fond farewell. 2Lt. Fabian Forbes, our mangwanani [‘Good morning’ in Shona] specialist is off to Training Troop for a while to teach Shona customs. A place will be reserved for you in the commando until February next year so see you then with luck. 2Lt. André Scheepers has now successfully passed the SAS selection and we wish him happy soldiering and good hunting in his new unit. WO2 John Norman, DMM [Defence Forces Medal for Meritorious Service]. Congratulations on your new promotion and well-deserved award of the DMM. WO2 Norman has been posted to Training Troop and we wish him luck and thank him for all the excellent service he gave 3 Commando. C/Sgt. John ‘That reject from Andrew Fleming’ Coleman has successfully passed the Potential Officer’s Course, Officer Selection Board and is attempting to coerce the staff of Hootersville [the School of Infantry in Gwelo] into issuing him a pip or two! You know what they say about bullsh*t baffling brains? Jokes aside—good luck Colour. We hope to see your dazzling shoulders in the near future. Sgt Paul Abbott is

off to destinations unknown. We thank him for his creditable operational service and wish him luck in his new appointment. New Lovers Karibu [Swahili for ‘welcome’]: 2Lt. Chappie ‘wet behind the ears’ Rosenfels is now the new leader of 14 Troop. CSM Terry Miller has taken over as Chief Whip. C/Sgt. Brian Lewis is now the new ‘mustard to custard’ specialist. Karibu to the following new troopies: Michael Chance, Eike Elsaesser, Rodney Taylor, Keith Rogers, Alan Palmer-Jones, and our new doc, Cpl. Pete Rice. Attached Lovers: Cpls. Charlie Norris and Percy Hodgson are doing service with Training Troop. What with 2Lt. Forbes, CSM Norman, Cpl. Norris and Cpl. Hodgson all overseeing the training, the other commandos can relax with the knowledge that they will in future receive an injection of Lover fighting ability, charm and fortitude, otherwise only experienced in 3 Commando. We hope that it will serve to bring the other commandos up to an acceptable standard. Killed on active service: The commando deeply regrets the loss in action of two of our fighting Lovers. Tprs. Simon Clark (NZ) and Joe Byrne (USA) died fighting for Rhodesia—both excellent soldiers who will not be forgotten by the commando. Our sympathies to their families. 11 Troop news: Since the last issue we have undergone numerous changes —for better or worse is highly debatable. We say our fond farewells to 2Lt. ‘Rommel’ Forbes who goes to Training Troop (there goes the standard of recruits), C/Sgt. John Coleman on Potential Officer’s Course (him an officer?) and finally to Cpl. Bob ‘Shoulders/Basic’ Smith to DRR [Depot the Rhodesia Regiment—training depot for national servicemen in Bulawayo] we hear by special request of the RhMP [Military Police]. Thanks to you all and best of luck. From 12 Troop comes Sgt. (check in the last issue for attributes) Coom. Our two faithful NS ‘Please can we go on Stop 1, Banana 6 and all externals’ Mesham and Anderson return to the fold with happy heart. To them and the new bunch of troopies—welcome. Our heartiest congratulations to L/Cpl. George Galloway on his well-deserved BCR. Confirm you only did it for a few days off in town? Enough is enough and we end with a quick ‘it really did happen’ from our new troopies: “Mark, do you have the camo cream?” “No, ask the tracker.” “Matshonga, do you have the camo cream?” “Aaah, eweeh!” … plus the rest.

12 Troop or ‘Mobile Flex Unit’ continues to ripple around the camp, barebreasted with biceps bulging. First of all we would like to say goodbye to Sgt. ‘Fonz’ Coom who has gone to impart good manners and ‘how to behave in public lessons to 11 Troop. Hellos to C/Sgt. ‘Daisy’ Flowers, Tprs. Rock Botha, Yank Elsaesser, Gordon Fry and welcome back to our TA member, Jerry Stander, with his mobile Daglo panel [bald pate]. Welcome back also to the two flexes who have recovered from flex injuries, Claude Botha and Alex Nicholl. The latter has returned from his three-month skive, deep in love, and is heard to hum himself to sleep with The Wedding March. Derek Bowhay, who has returned from the ‘Donkey Wallopers’ [Grey’s Scouts] after discovering that cleaning out horse manure wasn’t such a skive. He has excelled himself on the volleyball court—when no one else is available to play. ‘War Story’ Walsh has left us for a month’s vacation, all expenses paid at a well-known hotel in Bulawayo [Detention Barracks] where no doubt he will recount his experiences to spell-bound listeners. ‘Piggy’ Watt and Chalky are at the moment oozing charm and sex appeal to the birds in Durban and no doubt we will hear about it when they return. ‘Star Wars’ Gillespie continues to cook like an extraterrestrial alien scattering the enemy in all directions. ‘Blob’ Wilkins has swelled the ranks with his considerable flex frame. Well, that’s all, keep flexing. 13 Troop: Well a lot has happened since our last news. Some for good and some for bad and some mediocre and some … Starting from the top, Lt. Rog Carloni has taken over from 2Lt. André Scheepers (that’s the bad news!). Cheers to 2Lt. Scheepers and well done on your recovery and passing SAS Selection [Scheepers was known as ‘Scar Tissue’ in the SAS for the amount of times he was wounded, by both enemy and friendly fire.]. Cpl. Percy Hodgson has been attached to Training Troop for a while but will be back. Q: “What do you get with happy wedding bells?” A: “Unhappy bank managers and in-laws.” Cpls. Jimmy Gibson and Ed Wandel have got—unhappy bank managers— congratulations and condolences. Congratulations and farewell to Mark Wentzel who married a day after his discharge. Cheers Wentz and good luck. Welcome to national servicemen, Tprs. Pascoe, Weaver, and Taylor. Also welcome back to Tpr. Bain who is now a TA—poor lad! L/Cpl. Gavin Fletcher recently departed to the Okavango Swamps to try and locate the rare Okavamb