Assault on Zanzibar

by E. C. Williams

  It was estimated that, exploding in the water, they would cause a pressure wave that would sink any dhow within two cables, and damage the hulls of those further away to an extent determined by the distance.

  Given the close intervals of a cable’s length or less at which the enemy fleet sailed, Dave thus hoped to knock out a couple of dhows with every bomb. Of course, this was all theory – no one knew if these numbers were correct. The big bombs could very well turn out to be only marginally more effective than their old standby the 100kg. This strike would tell.

  Charlie launched a strike of four Puffins, each carrying two 300kg bombs. Two Puffins had been down-checked as mechanically marginal until their engines received further service.

  “Black Leader, this is BENDE, approaching western horn, break. Where are you interrogative? Over.”

  “BENDE, Black Leader. Minutes away from you, sir, break. Sorry for the slight delay, over.”

  “Black Leader, BENDE. No worries, break. You boys be careful up there, over.”

  “BENDE, Black Leader. Wilco and thanks for the good wishes, Captain, break. You’ll see us momentarily. Black Leader standing by.”

  The Puffins flashed over their heads heading toward the enemy. Midshipman Boyd said, looking at the arc of his sextant, “Enemy within range now, sir.”

  “BENDE to task group: Open fire.” In immediate response, 37mm rifles cracked all along the line of schooners. Through his telescope, Kendall could see the splashes of near-misses, and a couple of small explosions on hulls or rigging of dhows indicating hits.

  He raised the telescope and watched the Puffin Bs as they bombed from formation a good sea-mile high. As each released its load, the aircraft seemed to literally bounce hundreds of feet higher; heavy bombs, then.

  As the formation turned and flew back over the enemy’s western horn, Dave and Tetch both looked over their side of the cockpit to evaluate damage done. There were no visible direct hits – not surprising from this altitude, and since the bombardiers had orders to try for near-misses between pairs of dhows, anyway. Damage below the waterline would not be immediately apparent. They would have to wait for Gannet’s damage assessment.

  Aboard Charlemagne, Lieutenant Ballard appeared on the edge of the Flag Box, and inquired formally of Todd Cameron, “Permission to approach the Commodore.” Sam raised his voice, speaking over Todd’s reply, and said “Come on over, Poet – no reason to be so formal in the midst of a battle!”

  As Ballard approached, Sam said, “Well, you look a bit more alive, now.”

  “Yes, sir – my nap was most refreshing. But the entire squadron needs rest, and more than a nap, Commodore. They’re exhausted. And the aircraft need some serious attention. The Puffin B airframe, and its Stirling engine, are tough, but they’re not unbreakable. I respectfully request that you consider an extended pause in air operations for aircrew rest and aircraft maintenance. I’m sure that Dave … Commander Schofield … will agree, when he returns, but I wanted to get the request in as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks, Mister Ballard. I was already considering it, and the request is granted. So inform Commander Schofield on his return. All aircrew to have a hot meal, and then turn in to rest until called. Tell him, also, that night ops are a possibility.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Sam had been thinking along those lines since the last strike had launched. He also knew, to the gallon, the fuel capacities of each of the schooners, and their consumption rates, and calculated that they would need refueling very soon. He knew their 37mm ammo load-outs, as well, but he couldn’t be as precise about their expenditure; he did know for sure that it had been considerable.

  It was time for the air-sea battle to enter Phase Two.

  “’Flag to BENDE: Retire southward, break. Rendezvous with Mother and Ouma, break. Now commence Operation Fabius Two, Over’. Repeat that radio signal with flags, PO.”

  When Black Flight had returned, and Ballard had relayed the Commodore’s orders to Dave, he agreed with them but wondered aloud if this meant that Poet had replaced him has CO of the squadron. Ballard assured him that, so far as he knew, this was not the case, and that he would continue to take orders from Dave.

  Dave instructed Mr. Patel to pull maintenance on the Puffins, and perform whatever services needed to be accomplished to make them fully airworthy, keeping in mind that the Commodore had mentioned the possibility of night ops.

  He and the rest of the aircrew then went below to a lavish hot meal now ready to serve to half the crew at a time, who had been released from action stations to eat by watches. They had last had a hot meal before dawn, supplemented since by a mug of coffee and a rice ball snatched while at stations or waiting for aircraft to be serviced, and were ravenous.

  Once everyone had been fed, Condition Bravo had been set – which meant the usual two watch rotation but with the watch on deck at a state of heightened readiness, with (in the case of the schooners) guns loaded and guns’ crews closed up.

  The schooner task group caught up with Charlemagne and Emma Lee, which had reversed course, then fallen off onto a close reach verging on a beat. One by one, the schooners went alongside Emma Lee and took on fuel and ammunition, then dropped back to form a line abreast astern of Charlie.

  Gannet reported fourteen dhows damaged in the latest strike, five of them in an obvious sinking condition with other dhows coming alongside to take off their crews, and the rest showing multiple streams of water going overboard from each. Sam could imagine their crews pumping like mad to stay ahead of the inrush of seawater while their DC teams frantically repaired ruptured frames and hull planking. The “superbombs” had proved their worth.

  Gannet also reported that the enemy’s eastern division had finally abandoned the head-and-horns formation – their general-at-sea not so stubborn after all – and were coming together in a rectangular formation on a broad front. The western division was just visible to Gannet, having crossed astern of the main force and clearly headed for Mafia Island, as Sam had anticipated.

  Sam heard Dave ordering Gannet to return to Charlemagne. He saw that the carrier’s carpenter’s crew and thrown together a temporary cradle amidships, between main and mizzen (or Tuesday and Wednesday – the crew commonly called Charlie’s five masts by the days of the work week), and a Puffin B was being lifted onto it, presumably to make room for the returning Puffin LR.

  Once the schooners had completed unrep, Sam ordered the task force to secure engines and proceed under sail alone. On all seven vessels, the inverted black cones came down smartly and, more slowly, the big drifters were hoisted up under square foretopsails, bellies filling, their close reach now becoming a broad one as the relative wind shifted aft.

  Taffy One was now running away from the enemy.

  Twenty-one

  Captain Francis Landry considered his dispositions for the coming attack, and wondered how they could be improved in the time remaining.

  He had established three widely-separated strong points along the north-eastern coast of Mafia Island, where he expected the landing to take place. The waters to the west of the island presented too many navigational hazards for the enemy dhows, and Chole Bay would have to be entered one vessel at a time; if he saw that the enemy planned to do that, he would have time to put all three of the Mafia class motor gunboats in the bay, at its entrance, and destroy the enemy as it entered, one vessel at a time. He didn’t think the Pirate commander would be that obtuse.

  He regretted that the Réunionnais had not seen fit, or perhaps been unable, to lend him two of their speedy gunboats, which would have been useful additions to his little fleet. As it was, he held great expectations for the gunboats he had. For as long as they survived.

  Each strong point was centered on one of the three divisions of the island defense force; from north to south they were the Mafia Kikosi, callsign Dapper (“Brave”), the Nosy Be Expeditionary Force, callsign Vetdruk (“Bold”) and the Réunionnais contingent, dubbed the Mafia
Task Force, callsign Wyd (“Valiant”). Landry, his HQ, along with his landing party, now composed of fifty seaman-gunners, were co-located with the Nosy Be force. As Commander Island Defense Force, callsign Doring (“Thorn”), he had a radio set-up capable of communicating with the gunboats; each division; CINCNAV (or CTF-1), new callsign Boer (“Farmer”) and the Chole Bay air detachment, callsign Seemeeu (“Gull”), via the hired stores schooner Soet Melissa, callsign Handelaar (“Merchant”).

  All callsigns were new, and promulgated as an appendix to Operation Cactus, the plan for the defense of the island. The op order itself had been distributed by hand of officer.

  Each strong point, and each of the gunboats, were now radio-equipped. The division HQs, located at their respective strong points, had to communicate with their subordinate units by runner, since the man-portable radios, long-promised, were still just on the verge of being field ready, according to the boffins. A prototype, just light enough for one man to carry (and another man to carry the battery pack), had recently failed its field test, proving too delicate to be humped through the bush and remain reliable.

  The strong points were located a few clicks inland, well into the bush, while the troops were dug in in the undergrowth where it ended above the high tide mark but well within small arms and mortar range of the beach.

  The Nosy Be Regiment’s armorers, responding to the request from Landry and Richburg for “…something like a grenade thrower”, had come up with a 75mm mortar, re-inventing it from incomplete references in old documents. It was simple, man-portable, and reasonably accurate, given good targeting information. There were six of them, allocated two to a division. More had been promised, but for now the half-dozen they had would have to do.

  On the bright side, Nosy Be had managed to come up with a generous number of SARS, enough for one per squad throughout the NBEF, and one or two per platoon in the other two divisions. Semi-automatic 25mm guns, five or six to each heavy-weapons unit, rounded out the large caliber and/or rapid-fire weapons available.

  Landry’s musings were interrupted by a radio striker with a message: Mafia Baharia, stationed ten miles off Ras Mkundi to loaf back and forth under sail and keep a lookout for the enemy’s invasion fleet, had spotted it, hull down on the eastern horizon. He acknowledged the message. Baharia already had her orders for that event; she would retire before the enemy, always keeping well ahead to minimize counter-detection. It would be just as well if the Pirates believed their appearance would be a surprise for the defenders.

  “Rich,” he said to Regimental Sergeant Major Richburg of the Royal Nosy Be Regiment, now his senior advisor on land warfare. “Looks like they won’t arrive off Mafia ‘til mid to late afternoon. D’you think they’ll attempt a landing then? Or anchor and wait until next day?”

  RSM Richburg owed his present rank and assignment to Landry’s lavish praise of his performance as head of the team of trainers – now all back with their regiment – that had played a major role in bringing the Kikosi up to its present state of high combat readiness, and repeated requests for him to stay as his advisor. Since the two were now fast friends, and Richburg, now a senior warrant officer, had risen as high as he could in the RNBR, given that officers’ commissions were so dependent on social and political connections he did not have, he was quite happy with the assignment.

  “I can’t pretend to know their thinking, Frank. I just know that, if I were in their shoes, I’d press on with the landing. If instead they anchored overnight, that would be the best outcome for us – the Mafia boats could be shootin’ ‘em up all night long. And the enemy commander will soon encounter them, and can figure that out for himself.

  “So, no – I’m pretty sure they’ll go right ahead with the landing, probably preceding it with a shore bombardment, and withdraw the fleet beyond the operational range of the gunboats.”

  “Then the battle on the ground will continue into the night. We’ll have the advantage in the darkness, since we know the terrain and they don’t.

  “Yeah – we’ve talked about that, Frank. I know the strategy.”

  “Oh, I know I’m just babbling, Rich. Nerves – sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’ve got the pre-fight jitters myself. They go away with the first round fired, ‘though.”

  “I know. I just hate the waiting.”

  The wind veered back into the south-east, and the Pirate invasion force, now on a reach, the best point of sailing for the lateen rig, was making good time. The breeze freshened as the afternoon wore on, as it often did, and the fleet made a steady six to seven knots.

  Captain Tendaji, skipper of the Mafia Baharia, said to his engineering advisor, LPO Gigot, “Sagenti, I think we shall be in battle very soon.” Since the gunboats were an integral part of the Kikosi, military rather than naval ranks were used aboard them.

  “I think you are right, Kapteni.”

  Tendaji had an RKN engineering advisor, or EA, because he had asked for one. All three captains of the Mafia-class motor gunboats had met, and were unanimous that they were not fully confident in their askari engineers, so all three vessels now had EAs.

  The fact was that the African settlers on Mafia who volunteered for the Kikosi were, for the most part, bold, enterprising, independent-minded men who aspired to be warriors and leaders of warriors. The best among them rose to become senior officers. On the other hand, not many wanted to be marine engineers – few were mechanically minded, because their environment had not encouraged such a bent. Unfortunately, those who chose this career did so for reasons other than natural aptitude.

  Captain Tendaji, for one, had come to believe that his askari engineer, Imani, had no real knowledge of how his engine worked, but instead secretly believed that it was a piece of kigeni magic, and that the procedures he had learned were just more magic, to control the demons inside mysterious complexities. His brother captains had confessed that they suspected the same of their engineers.

  Tendaji, on the other hand, more intelligent and more motivated to learn, understood more about how and why the engine worked, at least in theory, than did Imani. But he couldn’t be both engineer and captain, and he was sure as hell not going to give up command! Hence the EA, whose role was to tactfully advise his Mafian counterpart, help him, and take over if he seemed about to do something catastrophically wrong.

  Mafia Baharia was now under power alone, the wind too far forward to motor-sail, and on a southerly heading. The enemy force was closing, and soon Baharia’s next role, harassment of the enemy at extreme range, would come into play. All three gunboats were under strict orders to minimize risk to themselves, since Landry had in mind for them an important mission later in the battle. And one round from a Pirate dhow’s bronze three- or four-incher would sink a gunboat.

  As Baharia closed the island to within a couple of miles, she saw her sisters coming out to meet her. As senior captain, Tendaji was OTC of the little gunboat flotilla. He would communicate with them, at least initially, solely with signal flags or flashing light, as indicated by conditions. If the invasion fleet was not radio-equipped, its paymasters, the Zanzibaris, certainly were, and the possibility of one or more Zanzibari dhows with the fleet was highly likely; total radio silence for as long as possible was Landry’s order, and use of visual means whenever possible even after radio silence had been broken.

  Tendaji didn’t bother with flag signals to issue his initial orders; the other two boats converged on his, and he simply shouted, “Brothers, we will open to line-abreast at intervals of two thousand yards, close to no nearer the enemy than 1500 yards, and open fire. I repeat: No nearer than 1500 yards! Our Kamanda wa Juu Landry has so ordered. Execute!”

  The other two boats turned away and opened the distance between them and Baharia to about a sea-mile, then turned toward the enemy. When both had turned, all three came up to top speed, dashing toward the Pirate fleet. A corporal stood next to Tendaji, optical range finder – more uchawi wa kigeni– to eye; when the distance o
ff read 1600 yards, he shouted “Huko!”, and immediately the flag signal “Stop engines (break) Open Fire” soared up the gunboat’s stumpy foremast. The other two boats answered seconds later – expecting this signal, they had it bent on and ready – and as Baharia’s hoist came down sharply six recoilless rifles barked almost in unison. Tendaji noted with satisfaction that all six rounds found a target.

  The Pirates’ usual light-weight bronze gun, mounted on a mobile carriage so that it could be quickly switched between broadside and chaser, had an effective range, with a standard charge of black powder, of about a thousand yards. Its gunner could, by increasing the charge, extend that range out to a maximum of about 1500 yards, but accuracy was greatly diminished and that entailed a risk of the gun bursting. The RKN recoilless rifle, utilizing a superior chemical explosive, and with a rifled barrel, was effective out to 3,500 yards, but more accurate at closer ranges. At this range, with experienced gunners, it could not miss. Baharia and her sisters were shooting the enemy’s front line to pieces.

  The Pirate dhows not masked by their sisters were firing one or two guns each as fast as they could reload. As they sailed forward, shot splashes walked toward the motor-gunboats. When they got uncomfortably close, the gunboats simply withdrew another hundred yards or so, and resumed firing. They were using explosive rounds, and aiming for the dhows’ upper decks, so not sinking any but shredding rigging and sails, splintering the pulling boats nested on their decks for landing the ground force, and killing crew and land fighters.

  Before the gunboats cold be pushed uncomfortably close to the beach, Tendaji signaled his two subordinates to disengage and harass the flanks and rear of the enemy amphibious fleet. Baharia broke left and cruised down the eastern flank of the enemy, taking care to stay out of their range but within hers, and continued firing. Utukufu and Askari did the same on the western flank. They then hung about at the rear of the formation, keeping up the harassing fire. Occasionally, three or four dhows reversed course and came out to challenge them; the gunboats simply turned, ran out of their range, and picked away at them until they gave up in frustration and returned to the formation.