Winds of Destruction

by Peter John Hornby Petter-Bowyer

  We continued on for a night landing at the Army camp on Kariba Heights where we spent an evening with the Brown Jobs. The rest of the trip was a resounding success and proved the value of taking new helicopter pilots through the widely varying situations that they would encounter during operations.

  A few days after returning to New Sarum, I was ordered to report to the Air Force Commander. For the second time in seven weeks, I entered Air Vice-Marshal Harold Hawkins’ office. The AVM asked me if I had been flying in the area of Mana Pools at around 18:30 on 9 September. I said I had. The AVM then told me that he had received an angry report from a Member of Parliament to say that we had endangered his life and those of his family and friends by driving elephants directly at them. I told the AVM what had happened and how we had deliberately stopped the jumbos before breaking away to let the people on the ground enjoy the animals at relatively close range. He said he was pretty fed up with complaints that came from the same handful of high and mighty people. More in jest than annoyance he told me to “run the blighters over next time.”

  Ian Harvey (wearing cap) and technicians taken during a mountain training rest period.

  First helicopter engine failure

  TRAGEDY WAS TO BECOME COMMONPLACE in a war that had started slowly. But on 12 October 1966 it struck the Special Air Service badly. The nation was shaken by news of the deaths of Warrant Officer Bouch MCM, Colour Sergeants Cahill MCM and Wright MCM and Chief Superintendent Wickenden who had been killed in an accidental explosion on the banks of the Zambezi River.

  Officer Commanding SAS, Major Dudley Coventry, and these four men had been preparing canoes at the water’s edge before crossing the river and proceeding to Lusaka to blow up ZANU Headquarters. The major had returned to vehicles parked above the high riverbank for some reason or other when an enormous explosion occurred. The force of the explosion was so great that, even with the protection of the bank, the major was knocked unconscious. He awakened to find his hair burning, his scalp peeled back off his skull and his hearing completely gone.

  Regimental Sergeant-Major ‘Bangstick’ Turle of the Rhodesian Light Infantry heard the explosion from his base at the Chirundu road bridge that linked Rhodesia to Zambia. He set off without delay to investigate and found the blood-soaked major staggering along the road on his way to find help. Sergeant-Major Turle immediately called for a helicopter and was badly shaken by what he found below the bank on which the damaged SAS vehicles stood.

  Mark Smithdorff piloted the helicopter sent to uplift the dead and convey Dudley to Kariba where a Dakota and doctor were standing by for his onward flight to Salisbury Hospital. Having just crossed the Chirundu tarmac road a terrific screaming noise came from the engine. Quick as a flash Mark turned back for the road and was in reach of it when the engine casing burst with a bang. He ‘dumped collective’ (reducing all main rotor-blade angles to zero) and made an expert forced landing through the narrow gap between trees overhanging both sides of the road.

  Being deaf, Dudley Coventry had not heard the engine scream or the casing explode. He climbed out of the aircraft and turning to Mark asked in his usual polite manner, “What seems to be the problem old boy”? Pointing to the burst engine casing and using sign language Mark was able to answer the major’s question. Two unhappy incidents in one day did not seem to get the major down. He was a really Tough old bird.

  In time to come we were often left wondering if Dudley Coventry had been blessed with the many lives of a cat. Much of what he did during his incredible life may never be told but, having survived many wounds and dangers, it seems quite unfair that, in his old age in independent Zimbabwe, he was brutally bludgeoned to death by an intruder in his own home. I know of some of the close shaves he had but can only recall details of one.

  This occurred on 26 May 1967 when Dudley was leading an SAS team in an armed roadblock above the escarpment on the Chirundu road some way south of where Mark Smithdorff’s forced landing had occurred. Intelligence had picked up information that a particular pantechnicon, purporting to carry furniture, was entering Rhodesia from Zambia with a load of armed terrorists and war material.

  The vehicle was duly identified and waved to a halt. The driver denied that he was transporting terrorists but refused to open the back doors. As the SAS moved to force them open, automatic fire initiated from inside the vehicle. This, together with intense return fire from the SAS, turned the pantechnicon’s sides into sieve-like surfaces.

  During the exchange, Dudley received a hit high up on his inner thigh. He dived for cover and dropped his pants. Satisfied that his manhood had not been affected, he ignored his heavy bleeding and continued firing into the vehicle. All the terrorists were killed and Dudley recovered from the strike that narrowly missed his femoral artery.

  British military versus Labour Government

  FOR SOME TIME THE ARMY had been involved in continuous border-control operations along the Zambezi River line. This involved what the Army referred to as ‘side-stepping’ between bases to check for tracks of terrorists crossing into Rhodesia. One day all callsigns moved left from one base to the next and returned along the same route the following day. Except for the odd senior Officers’ visits and casualty evacuations (casevac), the Air Force had little to do with Border ops in early times. The Hunter and Canberra boys also flew the river line on odd occasions, but for a very different reason.

  The RAF Javelin squadron personnel were billeted in chalets, which were modified cattle sheds in Lusaka’s show grounds. The squadron leader commanding this British fighter squadron happened to be South African and, like every man under his command, he had a soft spot for Rhodesia. They made telephonic contact with our jet squadrons to offer our men best wishes and suggest that it would be fun to meet in the air. Our pilots needed no second invitation. On a few occasions Hunters or Canberras met the Javelins to fly along the Zambezi River in formation with crews waving and taking photographs of each other.

  Javelin.

  On the pretext of going on Christmas break to South Africa, a number of RAF guys took civilian flights to Salisbury, via Johannesburg (no passports were stamped). They were welcomed and, out of sight of prying eyes, given a great time. I have no idea if their desire to meet Ian Smith was fulfilled. But one can only guess that Harold Wilson and his Labour Party would have been horrified if they had known of these goings-on and especially that the Javelin boys had made it clear that they would never have responded to orders to make strikes against Rhodesians.

  When, in August 1966, the British Government announced the withdrawal of the Javelin squadron, the Rhodesians gave the RAF fellows a grand farewell party at Victoria Falls. But it was not only the Royal Air Force that had a soft spot for Rhodesia; the Royal Navy seemed to have had similar sentiments.

  When Ian Smith met for talks with Harold Wilson, first on HMS Fearless and later on HMS Tiger, one of his team was Flight Lieutenant Brian Smith, a Rhodesian Air Force communications Officer. Brian received the highest possible cooperation from the Royal Navy, resulting in perfectly secure communications with Salisbury. By all accounts, Ian Smith himself was accorded greater respect and acknowledgement by all ranks than Harold Wilson.

  We were aware that the British forces were violently anti-communist and sympathised with Rhodesia, but this did not apply to the British Government who seemed hell-bent on forcing us into a communist take-over. Sanctions were taking effect in so far as open trade was concerned but Rhodesia had turned towards South Africa and Portugal and our sanctions busters were becoming increasingly effective. For the ordinary man in the street not much had changed and support for Ian Smith and his RF party strengthened with every new threat from Whitehall.

  Ian Smith and Harold Wilson aboard the HMS Fearless.

  A different way of thinking

  IAN SMITH DESCRIBED THE BLACK folk of Rhodesia as the nicest and happiest people in all of Africa. I have no doubt that this was so because they needed no persuasion to report the presence of terror
ists whenever and wherever they appeared. Through 1966 to 1972 very few of our black countrymen were even aware of the ZANU and ZAPU armed incursions and continued to lead normal lives.

  Many amusing stories of these times can be told of our black countrymen and the way that they interpreted non-tribal issues. I give some short examples here.

  What with a drought and one thing and another, an old man in the southwestern region near Kezi, was facing hard times. For hours he contemplated what he should do until he recalled being taught by missionaries many years before. “Ask and it shall be given unto you.”

  The old man decided to act on this and wrote a letter to God asking Him for £10 to overcome all his problems and promised never again to trouble Him if he received this help. When the letter was in an envelope the old man was in a quandary because he did not remember being given God’s address. Deciding the post office people would know what to do, he addressed the stamped envelope ‘TO GOD IN HEAVEN’ and posted it at the Kezi Post Office.

  The sorter of mail did not know what to do with the letter so took it to the postmaster who was a white man. The postmaster said he would handle the matter. At the end of his working day he drove to the local Roman Catholic mission and handed the letter over to the senior father who was so pleased by the writer’s faith that he passed it all the way around the mission. A total of £5 was collected in silver that was reduced to a £5 note and mailed to the old man with an accompanying letter.

  During the following week a second letter addressed ‘TO GOD IN HEAVEN’ arrived at the mission. In this the old man thanked God for the gift of £5 but suggested that, in future, God should not make any payment through the Catholic mission because they keep half of His gifts.

  A terrorist was captured unhurt but in an emaciated state. He was armed with an SKS rifle and had plenty of ammunition. His belly had been empty for days and the urine in his water bottle had turned to acid because he had failed to find water. Once he had been fed and his thirst had been quenched he was interrogated by Special Branch. He told SB that he was the sole survivor of a contact with the Army and had been trying to get back to Zambia. The matter of hunger and thirst came up and he was asked if he had seen any game. He said he had seen plenty of animals. When asked why he had not shot something to eat, he said, “I do not have a Government hunting licence!”

  An old headman near Chipinga came with his people to inspect my helicopter—the first they had seen close up. The headman was delighted to be taken on a short goodwill flight around his own territory accompanied by his ten-year-old grandson. Having experienced flight for the first time in his life, the old man declared that he was now the possessor of untold knowledge. He understood cars, buses and tractors, all of which he had driven. He understood most mechanical things, having worked with ploughs, farm implements and dairy milking machines. He said he even understood jet airliners because he had seen them flying high in the sky. But there was one thing that really puzzled his mind. He could not understand how white men put whole sardines into a totally enclosed tin. When I told him how this was done and pointed out the solder lines around the crimped lid he was tickled pink but asked me to promise that I would keep this amazing secret to myself.

  When we were operating in the Kanyemba area, I came upon some of the people of the two-toed tribe known as the Vadoma. Not all members of the tribe suffered the affliction, but all seemed to be resistant to the killer disease ‘sleeping sickness’ caused by tsetse flies that plagued that area of the Zambezi Valley. Every time I was bitten by one of these creatures I not only jumped at the sting but also came up in a red and painful swelling around the bite. When I asked a Vadoma chief how he put up with the tsetse fly menace, he said he suffered no problem. He always made certain that a person who was more attractive to the flies than himself stayed close to him, day and night.

  My father was overseeing the monthly dipping of tribal cattle when a delegation of old men approached him driving three oxen before them. These animals had been castrated many moons back but the men had come to Dad to say they had made a big mistake; these beasts should never have been castrated. Would ‘Mambo’ please turn them back into bulls!

  Amongst European traders there was always good-natured rivalry evidenced by notices and nonsensical poems affixed to shop windows. I cannot recall any that I saw but Maria Pickett, who lived in Gatooma, told me of one incident that typified the rivalry between people trading in similar lines. This involved two chemists whose premises were opposite one another on the main street in the middle of town. One altered his display window to promote a whole range of quality hand-soaps. Included was a poem that read, “I am young and full of hope—I wash my pussy with Coal-tar soap!” Seeing this, his rival responded by filling his window with all sorts of low-cost soaps and displayed them with the following message: “I am old and have no hope—I wash my cock with any old soap!”

  FAC courses and smoke trails

  AT THORNHILL THE HUNTER AND Vampire squadrons were running Forward Air Controller (FAC) courses for Army officers undergoing company and platoon commander training at the School of Infantry, Gwelo.

  The FAC courses were primarily intended for situations of conventional warfare where the Army might need air strikes to be undertaken against a variety of targets, including tanks, other armoured vehicles and artillery. These courses were the foundation upon which the Army and the Air Force developed very special bonds between units and individuals. Most of the participating Army officers were majors, captains and lieutenants who became senior commanders in future operations.

  Arising from the FAC courses, I thought that situations could arise in which helicopter pilots might also have to undertake airborne FAC tasks by directing jet pilots onto pinpoint targets. It occurred to me that if two helicopters could trail smoke from different directions towards a target, jet pilots would be able to visually extend the lines and strike the intersection point. With official approval to investigate this possibility I had special nozzles made to inject atomised oil into the combustion chamber of the jet engine. For weeks I worked on this with the willing assistance of the squadron’s technicians, often covering the entire airbase in a cloud of white smoke.

  PB, Rob Gaunt and Eddie Wilkinson seen here with Army officers of an early FAC course. Most of these officers were to become the mainstay of Army operations as excellent field commanders.

  When the nozzle design and method of pumping the fluid into the engine seemed right, airborne tests were conducted with a Canberra. The Canberra’s crew could easily see the smoke trail from over twenty nautical miles but it soon became apparent that a helicopter’s flight line and the smoke trail differed considerably, even in the gentlest of wind conditions. Since this was bound to lead jets into striking wrong positions the project was discarded.

  Missing rhino

  AIR HQ RECEIVED AN UNUSUAL request for help from a farmer living a few miles west of Salisbury. He ran game on his place. Included was a white rhino that had gone missing. I was tasked to find the animal and, if possible, drive it back to the farm. A pass up one of the boundaries revealed a break in the fence through which the rhino had escaped. Fairly high grass on the adjacent farm clearly revealed the line the rhino had taken and led me to the big fellow who was having a snooze under trees some five miles from the gap in the fence. The animal responded well to helicopter shepherding and trotted back to where the farmer and his workers had positioned to guide the animal through the broken section of fence.

  However, when the rhino spotted the people ahead of him he became confused and gave me a run-around as I moved about trying to steer him in the right direction. The people on the ground waved hats and other objects to help but two of them only succeeded in getting knocked over by the rhino before I eventually came very close and forced him through.

  The fun of helicopters

  IT WAS UNUSUAL EVENTS SUCH as this that made helicopters so much more fun to fly than any fixed-wing machine.

  Because of the heli
copter’s versatility, every opportunity was taken to reduce stresses and make a student’s training a special experience. Intensive training was broken down into short periods with rest breaks taken in a variety of locations. This allowed students to meet a whole range of people, which was not possible when operating conventional aircraft.

  Many of our training flights included tea and luncheon stops with farmers who were always delighted to have us drop in on their front lawns. Seldom was this done without forewarning and, in consequence, there were usually additional guests invited to join the helicopter crew for a swim and sumptuous meal.

  Visiting Great Zimbabwe. Hotel out of sight to the right.

  A number of officers at Air HQ considered such practices a misuse of helicopters. Fortunately, most recognised the true value of these stopovers because it saved many wasted flying hours. If two hours of actual flying training was to be done in two parts and a farm visit was taken in between, it saved the high cost of having to route to and from the training area twice. The second benefit was the all-important matter of generating good public relations for which the Air Staff received loads of good reports.

  Police Reserve Air Wing

  ANOTHER GROUP OF PEOPLE WE were getting to know in these times were pilots and observers of the Police Reserve Air Wing. PRAW had been established along the same lines as the Kenyan Police Air Wing that did such good work during the Mau Mau rebellion in Kenya.