Winds of Destruction: The Autobiography of a Rhodesian Combat Pilot

by Peter Petter-Bowyer

  Returning to Op Cauldron itself. On 26 March 1968 three young Rhodesian Light Infantry soldiers were killed in two separate actions; all three happened to be under the age of eighteen. This caused such an outcry throughout the country that every soldier under eighteen years of age had to be withdrawn from operations. Most were in the field at the time and had to be gathered in by helicopters. Almost without exception they objected strongly and tried to lie their way out of having to return to base.

  In the meantime Hedebe’s group was already well south and closing with the farming area on the high ground above the escarpment. So a second forward HQ manned mainly by police reservists was established at Doma Police Station. This was called Red Base. When I arrived there my first tasks were in support of small teams of PATU (Police Anti-TerroristUnit) who, using African game-trackers, were cross-graining for Hedebe’s group along the northern most farms fence lines. Quite by accident I learned of shotgun traps set for wild pigs in maize fields where they did great damage to crops. Through the Police I arranged for the farmers to disarm all the gun-traps to safeguard PATU cross-graining patrols as well as the RLI tracker-combat group following Hedebe’s trail.

  Red Base was well organised by PATU who were all local farmers. With wives roped in, they provided excellent meals and a good bar service. Toilets and showers were pretty basic but they proved to be an absolute luxury for Norman Walsh and his technician when they flew up from the discomforts at Dean’s Camp. Following a hot shower and a good meal, Norman prepared to return to flies and dust whilst grumbling at me for being “a sporny blighter with all the comforts”.

  On 2 April, I flew from Red Base to the tracker-combat group, now on lush high ground some five kilometres north of the east-west fence line running next to the maize fields from which gun-traps had been removed. I found the callsign of about 15 RLI men moving in shallow echelon formation across an open grass vlei with clumps of trees and small rock strewn hills ahead. As soon as I saw the lead trackers I also saw the well-defined trail that the terrorists had made through lush green grass. I followed this trail without difficulty to where it turned east just short of the fence line.

  The trail meandered in and out of heavily treed patches until it reached the last group of trees with open grass vlei beyond. I could find no exit line and became confused by many trails that looked identical to the one I had been following. I did a fast low-pass next to the trees and noticed many small patches of upturned earth made by wild pigs digging for roots.

  Realising that pigs were responsible for the multiple trails, I opened my search and picked up the terrorist trail running north into a line of small hills covered with large boulders and trees. The trail led through an open gully of short grass before it circled around and led back to boulder-strewn ground overlooking the open gully. This looked to me like a deliberate ambush set-up. I was absolutely certain Hedebe and his group was waiting here for the RLI troops, so I called for troops to be helicoptered in.

  There was immediate reluctance on the part of the Army to use a small reserve of troops that had only just reached Red Base. So far as the local commander was concerned, responding to calls from the air was unproven, whereas the tracking callsign was still on fresh tracks and must, sooner of later, catch up with the terrorists. I guess Norman Walsh changed the Army’s mind because troops were made available quickly enough.

  John Barnes.

  I remained over the spot whilst John Barnes and a second pilot flew in RLI troops of 3 Commando. My fuel warning light had come on, forcing me to leave the area as soon as I had shown John the terrorists’ position. On my way back to Red Base, the troops called ‘contact’ and then I heard John Barnes voice being overlaid by his own MAG fire. John’s gunner, Brian Warren, killed one terrorist and another three were killed by the RLI. Unfortunately the use of only ten RLI soldiers against more than twenty terrorists was insufficient to prevent Hedebe and most of his men from escaping. Nevertheless, the Army acknowledged that the terrorists had been in a very good ambush position and, had the Air Force not wrested the advantage from them, the tracker-combat group would almost certainly have suffered serious casualties.

  Disappointed at having missed the action, I flew back to pick up the terrorist trail again, this time at Army’s request. It proved successful and showed that the terrorist survivors had moved east through vlei grass before moving onto a well-worn cattle path running along the fence line. The direction having been established, I made a reconnaissance of the ground well beyond the farming area and returned to Red Base. John Barnes and I then flew an RLI ambush party to a likely site I had chosen well ahead of the terrorists. Here the only well-worn path for miles around crossed over a dry riverbed.

  The soldiers remained in position until, at 10:00 next morning, the troop commander called for the ambush to be lifted. The soldiers were preparing their kit for helicopter recovery when Hedebe’s group suddenly appeared, comingdown the very path for which the ambush had been sited. The terrorists were just as surprised as the troops. Both sides opened fire simultaneously as the terrorists broke north and disappeared into the bush. Neither side sustained casualties and Hedebe had survived his third encounter with RLI. Back in the valley contacts with small groups and lone terrorists continued on a daily basis. By 4 April it had become clear that Hedebe’s group of around sixteen men constituted the only worthwhile objective when, much to my disappointment, I was recalled to base to continue helicopter instruction. Terry Jones replaced me.

  Two days later the RLI killed most of Hedebe’s group in a series of running actions. Four of these had holed up before being taken out with phosphorus grenades. After this action helicopters had to fly out the terrorist bodies because there was no road access into the contact areas. Prior to Op Cauldron we had always loaded terrorist bodies into the cabin. This created real problems because the helicopter’s nose-down attitude in loaded flight caused blood from the bodies to flow to the rudder pedals and around the base of the instrument console. The corrosive effects of blood, though bad in itself, was made worse when water was used to clean up because diluted blood simply penetrated deeper into unreachable areas. Because of this, blood was allowed to dry so that most of it could be brushed or vacuum-cleaned away.

  Whereas we continued carrying our own dead inside the cabins, there were so many more dead terrorists to carry that we were forced to reduce the blood spillage problem by carrying their bodies in underslung cargo nets designed to carry fuel drums.

  The four terrorists killed by phosphorus were lifted by Flying Officer Terry Jones who was instructed to fly them to Karoi. Phosphorus is really naughty stuff and only burns when exposed to air. When in contact with human flesh, phosphorus burns until below surface where oxygen is denied by flesh closure over entry points. Terry Jones was blissfully unaware of the fact that, in flight, the airflow had opened the dead terrorists’ wound points sufficiently to expose and re-ignite phosphorus that was then also burning the cargo net.

  Because of turbulent flight conditions, Terry did not register the weight loss as all four bodies broke through the net. Only on approach to land at Karoi did his technician look down to see that the net was tattered, empty and trailing high. Terry reported the matter to JOC Karoi just before a somewhat irritated farmer phoned the JOC complaining that Air Force had just dropped four smoking bodies onto his front lawn. After being persuaded that this had been an accidental release, the farmer was pleased to hear that an Army truck was being dispatched to clean things up.

  Op Cauldron was wrapped up when it was clear that Hedebe plus one member of his group had broken north and reached safety. sixty-nine terrorists were killed, on the basis of body counts, though many wounded were believed to have died and not been found. Fifty terrorists had been captured.

  I was at Kanyemba on another unrelated operation some weeks later when a call was received from the Portuguese Chef do Post at Zumbo to say he was holding Hedebe in his prison cell. One of our helicopters flew an SB man across th
e Zambezi to collect him. Like everyone else around, I was very disappointed when Hedebe climbed out of the Allouette. 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 Hedebe 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 from Zambia, joins the Zambezi River. The people agreed to do this. When, however, Hedebe got into the canoe he was laid low with a blow to the head and was bound up because, unknown to Hedebe, the Mozambicans knew that they had a reward coming from the Chef do Post for handing over any live terrorist. When the locals told the Chef do Post of Hedebe’s coming for help, the Chef do Post gave them hell for letting Hedebe walk to the river, saying he might have escaped. An old man responded by explaining that he could see no sense in carrying Hedebe to the river when he was fit to walk the long distance and wanted to go there anyway.

  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. 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 of the troops had been in the bush for many days without having bathed or changed their clothing. The use of deodorants was forbidden because even the lightest scent would give terrorists early warning of troop presence. It was for this reason that had I elected to collect 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 circumstances, 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 faintly rotting onions. With the passage of time, the intensity increases but the basic odour remains much the same. On the other hand, the smell of unclean whites varies from individual to individual ranging from stale, sour milk to rotten 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.

  P. K. van der Byl

  P. K. VAN DER BYL WAS a very colourful, eccentric minister in Ian Smith’s Rhodesian Front Cabinet. Of South African aristocratic stock, he spoke with a very affected nasal accent in a style somewhat akin to Eton graduates. He did not wear underpants and dressed ‘to the left’ in a manner that confirmed his reputation for being well endowed.

  Following the Vampire strikes against Hedebe’s group, PK decided to visit the site. He was not really known to the men in the field at that time and his arrival at Karoi for his helicopter flight to site was quite an eye-opener because his dress was so appalling. Below his Australian bush hat he wore a pink shirt with bright-blue tie, khaki shorts with black belt, short blue socks and vellies. On return to Salisbury he appeared on national television properly attired in suit and tie. Speaking of his visit to the airstrike site and making grand gestures with his hands he told of seeing “Blood, blood everywhere!” In fact we knew the red fluid splattered about the area was mopani sap oozing from shrapnel wounds to the trees.

  When the RLI and SAS got to know him better, PK became very popular with the soldiers. His ridiculous accent appealed to them just as much as his strange dress. He often requested to be taken on patrol so he could “shoot a terrorist” but asked that care be taken not to get him “lawst”.

  After one of his many field visits, he was flown back to Salisbury in a helicopter piloted by Peter Simmonds. Contrary to orders given Peter to take the minister to New Sarum, PK ordered Peter to drop him off where his servants would be awaiting him close to his home. When the helicopter landed in Salisbury Botanical Gardens, right next to the main road during rush hour, all vehicles came to a halt to watch the unbelievable sight of ‘white-hunter PK’, with elephant gun over shoulder, leading white-clad servants carrying baggage on heads.

  After he became better known to the Air Force, he arrived by air at Thornhill to attend some official function or another in Gwelo. Station Commander Group Captain Ken Edwards offered the minister lunch in the Officers’ Mess after his official function was over. PK said he had an awful headache and declined the offer. However, when he returned to Thornhill, he told Ken that he had changed his mind and would love to take up the earlier offer of lunch before flying back to Salisbury. Not surprisingly the caterers were in a bit of a tizzy for receiving such late notice but, as always, they presented a superb meal.

  There were many officers and wives enjoying a Saturday lunchtime drink in the Grog Spot when John Digby walked in wearing P. K. Van der Byl’s very smart Homburg hat. He had found this on the table in the entrance hall to the mess. “Surely the minister with his British Army background knows better that to leave his hat in the entrance hall of an officers’ mess when its rightful place is in the cloak room!” Having said this, John placed the hat on my wife’s head.

  Beryl immediately sat on the bar counter and posing in an exaggerated manner made some statement in PK’s affected accent. She was still doing this when Eddie Wilkinson whipped the hat from her head and, before he could be stopped, poured a full pint of beer into it causing instant loss of shape. Some officers took sips from the hat before it became the object of a roughhouse rugby match during which it shrivelled and shrunk into a shapeless mess. Once the match was over, the hat was unceremoniously driven down one of the horns of a kudu trophy hanging on the wall. When the minister was ready to leave, his headache immediately re-developed because he could not find his prized hat. Group Captain Edwards tore into the Grog Spot to see if anyone had seen it. Everyone pointed to the kudu horns.

  PK took off for Salisbury in a thundering bad mood and John Digby phoned officers at New Sarum to brief them on what had happened. A whole group of them rushed off to find hats and gathered at Air Movements in time to meet the minister. As PK emerged from the Dakota, everyone doffed their hats in greeting. Unable to respond, the minister’s annoyance and headache worsened. Fortunately he was humoured sufficiently to accept the offer of a drink in the mess where his headache dissipated before his departure for home in good spirits.

  John Digby took all the Saville Row hat-maker’s details from the destroyed hat and, through his brother in London, had a new Homburg made. When Terry Emsley was persuaded by John to present the new hat to PK, the minister vowed never again to leave it unattended in any place other than a hatbox in the boot of his car.

  For all his eccentricities and flamboyance, PK was a bright politician who spoke fluent German. I heard it said that he very cleverly saved Rhodesia many millions of dollars by ‘confiding’, very loudly, with a fellow passenger on a Lufthansa flight out of Germany. This was done to make sure that an agent, whether British or American I do not know, sitting behind him could hear his words. He knew the agent was trying to establish the purpose of his visit to Germany—and PK wanted to oblige. This was because he had just received confirmation from home that the new Rhodesian Mint had successfully started pumping out high-quality Rhodesian dollar notes. By boasting loudly about the German firm that was about to deliver Rhodesian currency through an agency he named, he triggered a UN action that blocked the deal. Thanks to PK, this ‘UN sanctions-blocking success against Rhodesia’ not only saved millions in foreign currency at UN expense, it highlighted anotherof the country’s self–sufficiency triumphs.

  P. K. Van der Byl stood out in any situation—even in this official Parliamentary record fcirca 1976. His pose and dark glasses make PK easy to spot.

  Roland Coffegnot

  SUD AVIATIO
N’S CHIEF TEST PILOT, Roland Coffegnot, made his second visit to Rhodesia to discuss any problems we were experiencing with our Alouettes and to fly with instructors. Being Sud Aviation’s test pilot for the Alouette III’s, Roland knew the absolute limits of these machines, which made flying with him both enlightening and frightening.

  The first thing he demonstrated to me seemed crazy. In the hover at about shoulder height he applied full rudder. The helicopter tail swung around with increasing speed and the nose pitched progressively downward until it seemed the main rotor blades were about to strike the spinning ground. At this point full opposite rudder was applied to stop the rotation, which caused the aircraft to shoot off into forward flight as if catapulted. It was nice to know this was possible but, not seeing any operational value in the manoeuvre, I never tried it myself.

  Next, Roland asked me to hover. I was settled when, without warning, he slammed the fuel-flow cock closed. This was my first-ever powerless landing that worked out well enough, although touchdown was a bit heavy. Only then did Roland realise that I had no prior ‘engine-off’ experience, so he repeated the exercise twice. Next on his programme were three engine-off autorotations from height, which I enjoyed. This is when he told me that, when instructing a student, I should always cut power when the student least expected it to happen.

  He insisted that it was absolutely essential for an instructor to be quite certain that his students would automatically check the yaw that occurs with power loss and instinctively ‘dump’ the collective pitch lever to ensure minimal loss of rotor speed. Hesitation would be fatal. He then demonstrated and made me practise hair-raising, power-off, forced landings from the hover at 500 feet. When hovering below this height recovery from an engine failure was impossible.