SAS training on low-level static-line delivery. Note the various stages of parachute canopy development.
Hot extraction by helicopters necessitated great courage by the helicopter crews who almost always came under enemy fire before, during and after snatching breathless soldiers away to safety. With little or no time to find suitable LZs, and under stress from enemy attention, many helicopters suffered minor damage to rotor blades as they sliced their way into extra-tight landing spots before struggling upward with the extra weight of troops.
Hoisting gear was seldom fitted to helicopters on operations because of the weight penalty they imposed. In any case the cable took ages to reach ground and was slow in lifting one or two men at a time; an absolute no-no for hot extraction! So an alternative device was employed. Where landing was not possible, a fixed length tethered cable with a crude bar arrangement at its end was thrown over the side to lift a maximum of four soldiers out of hot spots. Once well clear of the enemy, the soldiers were put down where the helicopter could either land to bring them inside or leave them to continue their work. But use of the hot extraction cable was a last resort. When a helicopter is hovering close to the ground, it is flying ‘in ground effect’ which means that the cushion of air caused by backpressure from the ground assists in producing lift. In this condition the power required to remain airborne is a great deal less at any given weight than when the helicopter is hovering high ‘out of ground effect’ at the same weight.
When the hot extraction device was used to lift only two soldiers, power demand was usually close to maximum. With four soldiers clinging to the hot bar the power demand was always above gearbox maximum allowance, causing rapid overheating of the main rotor gearbox. Because of this, a pilot lifting more than two soldiers needed to get into forward flight as quickly as possible to bring down the load on gears. In so doing, soldiers were sometimes dragged through bushes and trees during lift-off from the ground. Landing them was easier because the pilot could choose his ground away from enemy attention.
Seldom were SAS sticks returned to base. They were simply moved away from the immediate danger area and re-deposited to continue their offensive work. The admiration aircrew had for these amazing SAS men was beyond expression and, despite the dangers involved, every effort was made to ensure their safety. The SAS had reciprocal opinion of the Blues
At the end of six weeks the sticks moved to their original cache point for helicopter uplift of parachutes and men. Extra helicopters were usually made available from internal operations for these pre-planned extractions. For the men on the ground there was no sound in the world so pleasing as that of helicopters flying in to take them home. For the helicopter crews this particular task was a bittersweet one.
Just consider picking up men who had been operating in the bush for six weeks in conditions alternating between blinding heat and ice-cold rain, yet wearing the same sweaty grime-caked and torn clothes day in and day out. With blackened and bearded faces to hide their whiteness, they had had no chance to bath or wash their clothing. On the other hand the helicopter crews, fresh and clean from daily showers, comfortable beds and good food, could never be fully prepared for the appalling stench that invaded their helicopters. But SAS smiles, exaggerated by the whiteness of teeth and eyeballs, made their job very special.
On arrival at Macombe the weary men were treated to long-awaited baths or showers, shaves and the joy of fresh clothing. Only when clean and comfortable did they turn to ice-cold beer and a good fresh meal. Following a full debriefing the men were flown back to Rhodesia for their short ten-day R&R (rest and retraining—also known as rest and recuperation) break. Whilst this was happening, other SAS callsigns were deploying for their long stint in hostile territory.
On Christmas day 1973, I cut short a visual recce flight to go into Macombe to collect the Army Commander, General Peter Walls. He had parachuted in during daylight hours to be with the deployed SAS callsigns who had congregated to celebrate Christmas miles from any FRELIMO area. Descending with him were parachutes delivering hampers of hot turkey, ham and all the trimmings.
After two hours with the men, the general was taken by helicopter to Macombe where I picked him up for a flight to Centenary for further visits with his troops. Along the way I took the opportunity of showing General Walls a major base that had been established by ZANLA inside Rhodesia. ZANLA called it ‘Central base’.
First internal recce success
GROUND FORCES CAME UPON CENTRAL base during a follow-up on CT tracks. This base was on the Zambezi Valley floor many miles from the nearest village. When I saw it I was horrified that I had been working in Mozambique in the belief that I could not be too useful in Rhodesia. But Central base, though quite different to any base in Mozambique, was so blatantly obvious that I decided to get back to internal recce.
Having covered the remote regions on the Zambezi Valley floor without finding anything like another Central base, I returned to the difficult terrain in the populated areas on the high ground. After two days of fruitless work, I found a small base near Mount Darwin and judged it to be occupied. The base itself was in a line of thick bush running north to south along a ridge. A river ran east to west past the north end of the base and open ground lay on both the east and west sides. I gained the impression that CTs would only break south through the best bush cover available.
I landed at FAF 4 where arrangements were made to borrow two helicopters from FAF 3 to add to the two helicopters based there and the RLI put together twenty troops. When all were assembled, I briefed everyone before getting airborne to mark the target with a salvo of thirty-six rockets. When I pulled out of my attack, the helicopters swept around the target dropping their RLI sticks as planned. From there on, four groups of troops, who I could see clearly, moved forward ever so slowly, fearing to bump into each other. I attempted to direct them but the officer on the ground was reluctant to accept advice and directions from above. Only when they were close up against the base did the CTs open fire.
As soon as the CTs started running I saw them clearly and could not understand why I had not seen them before. However, every time an individual stopped moving he was lost to my view, even though I knew precisely where he had stopped. The action was short, resulting in six CTs dead and one captured wounded. Nine got away through the cover in the south, just as I had expected. It was a frustrating experience to see those CTs slipping away when I was unable to strike and had no 4 Squadron aircraft or helicopter airborne to kill or block them.
Up until this action helicopters had seldom gathered to place meaningful numbers of troops around CT groups. I cannot say for certain that this marked the beginning of what was to become Fire Force, but I do know that it influenced the Army to have an officer airborne for similar set-piece actions that followed.
Having experienced this minor success inside the country, it was time to teach internal recce to my pilots. This was a difficult task considering I myself was still struggling to develop the art of finding CTs in TTLs. Mike Litson was the first pilot to fly with me because he had shown keen interest in the role. Together we had a few more successes. Unfortunately I did not get any further with other squadron pilots for a while because Police General HQ brought pressure to bear on Air HQ to teach visual recce to the Police Reserve Air Wing.
Training PRAW
WING COMMANDER OZZIE PENTON HAD become deeply involved in managing the Air Force Volunteer Reserve squadrons and, through this, had been roped in by PGHQ to act as an air liaison officer for their PRAW. It was he who had been persuaded by PGHQ to have PRAW trained in visual recce as a matter of urgency, so Ozzie sought my cooperation.
The Police Air Wing pilots and observers were very keen to become as active as possible against CTs; a welcome break from dull communication flights as glorified taxi drivers. Of greater importance was the fact that most PRAW were farmers who longed to settle scores with those CT groups that had been attacking farms in their areas.
Unlike
most of the young pilots on my squadron, these reservists were very attentive, never seeming to be bored during detailed lectures and long training flights. But, despite their keenness, it soon became clear to me that few would master the art of scanning large tracts of ground and become proficient at separating normal from abnormal signs in the vast networks of paths created by men and beasts.
Bill Ludgater and his observer, Wally Barton, spent enormous effort and time making long reconnaissance flights in Bill’s Cessna 180. Unfortunately, their efforts amounted to very little. The problem was that Bill had far too many places checked out by ground forces that soon lost interest in chasing ‘lemons’. (‘Lemon’ was a term used to indicate the non-presence of CTs; a sour experience.)
Hamie Dax and his observer Sarel Haasbroek were at the other end of the scale. Right from the beginning it was obvious to me that they would do well. The aircraft they operated was far from ideal because its low forward-set wing design made it a very poor reconnaissance aircraft. In time, and in spite of this limitation, these two were so successful that they gained an excellent reputation with Air Force and RLI following a number of good contacts they initiated within the Centenary and Mount Darwin regions.
In the meanwhile the number of armed contacts with ZANLA groups was rising. In one of these, Air Lieutenant Dave Rowe had a lucky escape thanks to cool thinking between himself and his technician, Sergeant Carl de Beer. Dave’s right arm and right leg were instantly incapacitated by enemy fire during an approach to land troops. Transferring his left hand to the cyclic control column Dave was able to hold direction but he needed Carl to manage the collective control lever. Once full control was established with the aircraft level at cruising speed, Carl turned up the friction knob to hold the collective lever in position so that he could safely leave it and attend to Dave’s wounds. Having repositioned the troops that were still on board. Carl worked from an awkward angle behind Dave’s seat to stem the flow of blood. On arrival at base Dave and Carl co-ordinated their control movements for a roll-on landing that, to the relief of the troops, was a safe one.
Note the profusion of pathways in this photograph. Sweeping around the hill from top to right are typical cattle tramlines. Others are normal human routing paths. The squiggly pathway centre bottom leading to the regular path rising from right to centre was the telltale indication leading to the terrorist base amongst large trees within the rocky outcrops at photo centre.
Strela missiles
RUSSIAN ANTI-AIRCRAFT MISSILES (NATO codename Grail but better known as Strela) were known to be in FRELIMO’s possession so, late in 1973, I made a request to Air HQ to take steps to protect our aircraft from these ‘heat seeking’ weapons. It was only a matter of time before one of my squadron’s aircraft would be shot down and I was acutely aware that I was the most likely candidate because I was exposed to FRELIMO forces for many hours on end, flying at heights perfectly suited to Strela.
Apart from myself, I worried about my Provost pilots acting in support of the SAS in FRELIMO-dominated territory, particularly when they conducted strikes on the enemy. The helicopters, though vulnerable at height, always flew just above the trees to give them best protection against all types of enemy fire except when hovering, landing or lifting off.
Months passed but no action was forthcoming from Air HQ or the technical boffins at CSIR (Council for Scientific and Industrial Research) in South Africa. During a visit to Air HQ I raised the matter again and was told that counter-missile work could not be undertaken, as this had not been catered for in the Air Force budget. Instead I was instructed to include Strela protection in 4 Squadron’s 1975 bids. Being really upset by this standard response, I expressed the view that we would have to lose aircraft and crews to Strela before any action was taken. Unhappily I was proven right.
Crop-spraying in Tete
IN JANUARY 1974 I NOTICED that maize crops, which had not been grown in Tete south of the Zambezi for the past two years, were flourishing. This meant ZANLA would be able to feed off the local people who were obviously returning to areas from which they had fled in 1972. Most of these people, then living in small hidden camps, appeared to have come out of the Portuguese aldeamento at Macombe. However, the benefit that would derive to ZANLA from the availability of maize meal was unacceptable and a decision was made to destroy the crops and force the civilians to return to the aldeamento.
A Cordon Sanitaire was still being constructed along the northeastern borderline where thousands of anti-personnel mines were laid between two electrified fences. Between and either side of these fences, a chemical defoliant had been sprayed to destroy vegetation. The defoliant had worked well on bush but its effectiveness against crops was not known. Nevertheless it was decided to use the same stuff because ample stocks were immediately available.
Only one civilian crop-sprayer pilot was prepared to take on the job in hostile Tete. I cannot recall the name of the well-built pilot I briefed at Mount Hampden Airport. He calculated the amount of fluid he required and this was positioned at the RAR Tac HQ at Musengezi Mission. I provided top cover and guided the pilot from field to field. Once he saw each field, or complex of fields, he did his own planning and meticulously covered the awkwardly shaped crops whilst I looked on from above.
On return to Musengezi after his fourth flight to recharge his tanks, he experienced difficulty in keeping his twin-Comanche on the runway. A bullet strike to the aircraft had punctured a main wheel tyre but little other damage had occurred. As soon as a replacement wheel from Salisbury was fitted the pilot got airborne again and we completed the job on 19 January 1974. Fortunately the rain held off long enough for the spray to be absorbed by the maize plants and in five days browning of the crops confirmed that the spray had worked.
Chris Weinmann joins 4 Squadron
BECAUSE I SPENT MOST OF my time in the operational areas, I placed great reliance on Rob Tasker and Bruce Collocott to manage the squadron at Thornhill. However, we started experiencing some discipline difficulties amongst a handful of young pilots because Rob and Bruce, though excellent officers, were too gentle in nature to handle them. Another problem I had was that 4 Squadron had no qualified PAI to ensure pilot proficiency in weapons delivery at a time when we most needed this. Until this time we had been reliant on John Blythe-Wood and myself, both unqualified substitutes.
Air HQ approval was given to my request for Chris Weinmann to replace Bruce Collocott. Flight Lieutenant Chris Weinmann seemed to be the ideal man for our needs because he was a qualified PAI who struck me as being a no-nonsense disciplinarian. Rob Tasker, being the only instructor beside myself, remained essential.
Chris had flown Trojans when they first arrived in Rhodesia but was then flying Hunters In November 1973 he was posted to 4 Squadron and Bruce went to 3 (Transport) Squadron. Whereas Bruce was openly delighted with his posting Chris secretly hated having to leave the glory of Hunters to step down to slow piston-driven machines. Typically, he put his personal desires aside and settled to his new responsibilities with the determination I had expected from him. As soon as Rob re-familiarised him on Trojans and Provosts, Chris got stuck into improving weapons proficiency amongst all pilots, myself included. Thanks to him, disciplinary difficulties that had existed at junior pilot level ceased.
Chris Weinmann.
Night casevacs
4 SQUADRON PILOTS WERE FACED WITH major problems operating Trojans into remote airstrips at night in response to calls for casevac or urgent re-supply. This was because no facilities existed to clearly demarcate runway boundaries for take-off and landing.
On grass runways at main and established Forward Airfields, gooseneck flares were placed on the 100-metre markers along one side of the runway. Two flares at start and end of the runway, on the side opposite to the flare line, defined where runway centre-line lay. This assisted pilots to clearly identify the runway and to judge their landing approach angle and hold-off height for touch down.
A gooseneck flare was som
ething like a squat domestic watering can with carrying handle. A thick wick in the spout was exposed for about four inches outside the spout with the other end lying in raw paraffin inside the can. The wick fitted tightly in the spout to ensure that flame at the lighted end did not transfer to paraffin in the can.
In remote areas there were no cumbersome gooseneck flares, so a crude system of marking the airstrip was used. Invariably there were Army or Police vehicles at the strips into which 4 Squadron aircraft were called, so we used these as runway markers. Two vehicles were placed on the runway centre line, one at each end of the runway. With head and taillights on, the vehicles faced the direction the ground forces wished a pilot to land. On his approach for landing, a pilot saw the rear lights of both vehicles and the headlights of the first vehicle, when bright enough, helped him judge the round out for landing.
Though this method was successfully employed it required great skill in judgement and I considered it too dangerous to continue. What was needed was something along the lines of the gooseneck flares to mark an entire runway; so I produced small one-time disposable mini-flares for all ground forces to carry as standard equipment.
I acquired empty half-pint paint tins with metal bungs and screw caps. Each tin was filled with paraffin and a round wick was inserted into the paraffin through a hole in the metal bung. The screw cap trapped the outside of the wick and sealed in the paraffin until removed for use. Night-landing trials with these mini-flares were successful and eliminated any need for vehicles that were, themselves, hazardous obstructions on any runway.
Winds of Destruction: The Autobiography of a Rhodesian Combat Pilot Page 50
