A sudden change in course by the terrorists, who had been heading directly for the RAR ambush sites on the Nata River, must have been induced by the sound of the gunfire that killed Ken Pierson. A tracker-combat group under Lieutenant Bill Winall picked up on the tracks from the Nata River at around 10 o’clock.
The SAP helicopter arrived at Point 222 where the pilot indicated he was keen to become involved. However, we could not task him until we were given instructions on how he, his technician and his aircraft were to be employed and what restrictions, if any, applied. Nevertheless, both pilot and technician were able to assist with the interrogation of the SAANC prisoner who could only speak Afrikaans and Xhosa. They established that an SAANC man was leading the group and that he would respond to radio calls in Afrikaans.
John Rogers piloted the SAP helicopter whilst the two South African men held the SAANC prisoner and monitored his VHF transmission as he attempted to get a response from the terrorist leader. John kept an eye on the Becker Homer hoping to get a direction, but no reply was made. In hopes that the terrorist leader was listening in on the radio, the prisoner transmitted a prepared message in Afrikaans and, using his own pseudonym, recommended that the leader should surrender because there was no chance of anyone surviving as he could see the Rhodesian security forces were determined to kill him and all his followers. We never did find out if those calls were received.
When I flew over to check on his progress at around 11:00, I noticed that Bill Winall had two police handlers with their dogs. His callsign was moving in single file through high dry scrub with the dogs following the trail, now heading east for the first time. Flying high so as not to give terrorists any specific indication of the follow-up, I did a survey of the ground ahead. On the line of movement, about six kilometres ahead of the troops, thick scrub gave way to open, treed savannah where ground rose gently to a flat crest before descending more steeply to the banks of the Tegwani River. On a section of this river bright-green trees lining both banks contrasted strongly with the otherwise drab brown countryside. Here I found surface water in the riverbed, the only water for miles around.
Having seen this, I flew off northeastward well away from the area before heading back across the line of the followup group. When I passed over Bill Winall’s callsign, I was surprised to see how little progress had been made in the twenty minutes since I had plotted his last position. The line of men was moving very slowly in terrific heat and most noticeable was that the dogs were no longer leading but were trailing behind the troops.
At Point 222 I liaised with John Rogers and Major Mac Willar who had been gathering in new troops for deployment ahead of the terrorists. I told them of Bill Winall’s last position and of the water in the Tegwani River. We agreed the terrorists must have reached the high ground from which they would certainly have seen the green trees along the Tegwani River. This would undoubtedly attract them, having been without water since leaving Leasha Pan. I suggested we try jet-strikes along the south bank of the river and this was agreed.
An Airstrike Request was processed through Flight Lieutenant Doug Butler’s FASOC at Shapi Pans. We asked for a Hunter strike at 15:00 to be followed by a Canberra strike at 18:00. The reason for two strikes was that, if the terrorists had been caught in a Hunter strike, survivors would return to water and any kit they might have abandoned after about two hours believing that no further strike would occur. If on the other hand they had not yet reached the water when the Hunters struck, thirst would make them move to the inviting green trees feeling confident that no further air action would follow.
At 14:50 I passed high over Bill Winall and in veiled language told him that, “Cyclone One (Hunters) will be making a speculative strike, I repeat speculative, on a location ahead of you.” It was necessary to use veiled speech knowing that the terrorists might be listening to me on the captured radio. Ten minutes later, on a different frequency, I talked the Hunters onto the stretch of green trees on the south bank of the Tegwani. Four Hunters struck with 68mm rockets and 30mm guns exactly as instructed.
John Rogers’ helicopter was without fuel so he commandeered the SAP half-full helicopter to control the Canberra strike. At 18:00 he talked two Canberras, each with ninety-six 28-pound fragmentation bombs, onto the target. On his way back to Point 222 he switched from the airstrike frequency and immediately received a frantic call from Bill Winall. Bill’s callsign had been attacked by the terrorists and had suffered serious casualties. He had fought them off but did not know how far they were from his position.
John Rogers was too low on fuel to go to Bill’s immediate assistance. At Point 222 all fuel drums lay empty and it was getting dark. The SAP helicopter as well as John’s and mine were empty and it would be ages before Hoffy, Chris and Ian returned with fuel from Shapi Pans. In any event, any thought of going into Bill’s location that night was discarded as any helicopter with its landing light on would be a sitting duck to the terrorists whose location was not known, but whose aggressive intentions had been demonstrated on three separate occasions.
Earlier in the day I had seen an old half-filled drum of dieseline at a disused road camp near the game fence some two kilometres north of Point 222. In darkness Bob Whyte and I pumped this fuel into our helicopter to get us to the Company HQ where only one full drum of Avtur remained. We had been airborne less than ten minutes when our fuel-filter warning light came on. This meant having to land immediately to clean the filter. Four further night landings in remote ground were necessary before we finally reached the company base. There we had to drain our fuel tank of all polluted dieseline before we could take on Avtur to get us to Shapi Pans to join in on another night of lifting Avtur to Point 222.
The Shapi Pans base was deserted except for a handful of full Avtur drums because Brigade HQ and FASOC had already departed for Tjolotjo. This small village lay east of the action and only half the distance to Bill Winall’s position with operations moving that way. Shell & BP worked throughout the night transporting hundreds of drums of fuel from Bulawayo to Tjolotjo.
At midnight we lifted out the last of the fuel from Shapi Pans. Back at Point 222, after forty-two hours without sleep, the helicopter crews managed to get in four hours’ rest. At first light we commenced lift-out of Bill Winall’s dead and wounded to Tjolotjo where the Brigade HQ and FASOC were already established. This is when we learned the details of what had happened to Bill’s callsign.
Bill had not yet reached the edge of the treed area at the base of the rising ground when I spoke to him about Cyclone 1. He realised Hunters would be striking but failed to take in my essential words “speculative strike, I repeat, speculative”. Bill saw the Hunters and heard their strikes as his weary callsign continued its move to the area where trees provided welcome shade at the base of the rising ground. They reached this point before the Canberras’ strike and Bill had told his callsign to rest and ‘brew up’. Most men removed their boots and were sitting or lying down brewing tea. Unfortunately for Bill, he had come to the erroneous conclusion that we knew exactly where the terrorists were, hence the airstrikes. But he failed to follow fundamental soldiering procedures by not conducting a perimeter clearance patrol or even posting sentries.
At about the time Canberras were running in for their strike, Bill felt confident that all was well when, without warning, a black man in Rhodesian camouflage dress appeared out of the bush. In a loud voice he said, “Good evening gentlemen. I am a terrorist,” whereupon he threw a grenade into the middle of the callsign as a wave of terrorists charged forward, lobbing grenades and lacing the area with automatic fire. In spite of being caught so badly off guard and suffering casualties, the callsign retaliated so fiercely that it drove off the attack, killing two terrorists in the process and wounding others.
Hoffy and Ian picked up the seriously wounded before I put down where a soldier signalled me to land. Two terrorist bodies were loaded on the cabin floor behind me. As I looked over my shoulder I noticed the bowels of one
spilling out onto the cabin floor just as the stench of death reached me. Being squeamish, I started to retch. Bob Whyte saw this and came around the front of the helicopter, lighting a cigarette for me. As I drew on the fag it had the effect of multiplying the stench so I really had to force myself to regain control. Deliberately I took in very deep breaths of the foul-smelling air.
Whilst this was happening, a third body had been placed on top of the two dead terrorists. Only then did I realise it was an RAR soldier. The body of a white policeman, who I realised must be one of the dog handlers, was about to be loaded when I signalled the troops to wait for the next helicopter. I asked John Rogers who was waiting to come in behind me to uplift the policeman’s body. As I got airborne I spotted a dead black dog lying about 100 metres from the troops. I passed John Rogers its location and requested him to uplift the dog too. Though he did this, John said later that the stench of the dead dog had been horrific. This Alsatian was Brutus whose handler survived the attack.
On the flight to Tjolotjo I could not take my mind off the dogs. There were specific issues that occupied my thoughts.
Firstly, the dogs had been pulling against their leashes for about two hours before losing scent or becoming too tired to work. Secondly, had the dogs been free to track untethered at their natural speed, they would have caught up with those terrorists in less than an hour. Thirdly, the dogs were totally pooped by the time the callsign stopped to rest so, with human scent all around them, they had no chance of detecting the terrorist group. And finally, I had found it very easy to see the dogs from the air.
From these simple facts, the idea came to me that by using a helicopter to follow one or more dogs along a trail, it would be possible to overhaul terrorists quickly. The question I asked myself was, “Could dogs learn to be controlled by radio from the air?” This had to be explored so I decided there and then to follow this up when I returned to base.
Terrain and temperature conditions were tougher on Winall’s follow-up than for this training session on the highveld.
Bodies of Corporal Cosmos and three terrorists laid out.
As I landed at Tjolotjo I took a really deep breath and held it as long as it took to bring the rotor blades to rest then leapt out into the fresh air. The RAR troops laid out the three bodies then complained bitterly about the body of Corporal Cosmos having been carried on top of dead terrorists. They found this to be extremely offensive. I apologised explaining how I had been retching instead of watching the loading of my helicopter. A huge N’debele sergeant told me I had nothing to apologise for. He and his men felt that “the troops who loaded the bodies should have known better than to lay Corporal Cosmos on top of terrorist scum.”
From here on follow-up operations, which now included RLI troops, had the effect of fragmenting the terrorists, following a series of contacts in which one more RSF member was killed. Operation Nickel eventually wound up when it was clear that at least twenty terrorists had made good their escape into Botswana. Many years later, after Nelson Mandela’s SAANC came to power in South Africa, someone on TV mentioned that Chris Hani, then leader of the SA Communist Party, had been one of those who escaped from Operation Nickel. Joe Modise, Nelson Mandela’s first Minister of Defence, was another.
PB and Hoffy (top) RAR Officers’ Mess at Tjolotjo.
RAR Officers’ Mess.
Thirty-three SAANC and ZAPU men were known to have been killed, thirty-four were captured and twenty-seven were unaccounted for which, although a military success, had cost Rhodesia dearly in that eight of our security forces had been killed and thirteen wounded. One RSF man lost for just over eight terrorists killed or captured was considered far too high a price to pay. This was certainly a wake-up-call for the military.
There was a great deal of media coverage about the death of Spencer Thomas, the dog handler I had asked John Rogers to uplift. Spencer was a third-generation Rhodesian and his Alsatian Satan was missing, but not presumed dead. For two months Satan was lost until found by locals who lived many miles from where he had run from attacking terrorists. The scruffy and emaciated dog was returned to the Police Dog School where he quickly regained weight and his shiny coat.
Radio tracker dog project disallowed
BACK AT NEW SARUM I discussed the idea of using a radiocontrolled tracker dog with the man in charge of the Air Force Dog Section. Warrant Officer Peter Allen was certain the concept would work. I then went to Wally Jefferies in the Radio Section and asked if he thought it possible to make a two-part, lightweight radio arrangement for fitment into a harness for a dog. One radio was to be a receiver with earphone on one frequency. The other was to be an open transmitter with microphone on a separate frequency. Wally had a storm of questions that I was able to answer before he told me, very cautiously, that he thought it possible.
Squadron Leader Rogers had already given me his approval in principle so it was just a matter of getting Air HQ’s authority to explore the possibilities. The two most senior members of Air Staff immediately saw the advantage of speed tracking with helicopters and dogs. Both were especially interested in the possibility of wresting advantage from terrorists who might be lying in ambush. Except for the accidental death of Ken Pierson, most of our losses during Operation Nickel had come from ambush situations, hence the Air Staff interest. They realised that, if the tracker dog system worked, it would become essential to have additional airborne helicopters with troops for vertical envelopment of terrorists located by dogs.
With no objection from Air Staff, I put the same case to the Technical Staff. Here I found the same cynicism as when I had sought permission to develop pressure refuellers. The self-same officer who had spiked that request with his story about refuelling Spitfires from four-gallon Jerry cans spiked this project also. He asked, “PB, if we train elephants to fire machine-guns, will that interest you?” I said it certainly would but that this was not what I had come to discuss.
Any project requiring expenditure of money had to be wholly approved by both Air and Technical branches so the radio tracker dog plan, contested by only one officer, seemed to be doomed, at least for the time being.
Find Sherriff
ON 15 SEPTEMBER 1967, I flew to Sipolilo Police Station where Flight Lieutenant John Swart awaited me. He had been on a four-day exploration walk with Chief Superintendent Ted Sheriff in the northern section of the Umvukwes mountain range. They had become separated and big John’s search for the older and equally big Ted had been fruitless, so he walked out to seek help. His main concern was that Ted may have fallen and incapacitated himself in rough country that was full of ridges and deep ravines.
The mineral-rich Umvukwes range, known as ‘The Dyke’, runs for over 150 kilometres in a near-continuous mix of folded mountains and sharp ridge lines running from the southern Mcheka-wa-ka-Sungabeta mountain range to the high ground of the Zambezi escarpment between the Musengezi and Hunyani river exits into the Zambezi Valley. Within a northern section of this range known as the Horseshoe mountains there existed a unique species of palm trees known only to this areatogether with rare orchids and a great variety of birds. John and Ted’s interest in these wonders of nature had been the reason for their exploration trip.
The helicopter is a truly amazing machine when it comes to searching for someone who wants to be found. John Swart directed me to the spot where separation had occurred. In less than five minutes we made a detailed search of the area that had taken John one whole day to cover. It took another five minutes of searching to find Ted at the bottom of a deep ravine next to a fast-flowing stream from which we winched him to safety. Apart from his embarrassment, the chief superintendent was none the worse for his experience.
Mountain flying
IN OCTOBER 1967, I CONDUCTED Terry Jones’ helicopter conversion and finalised the mountain-flying phase Hugh Slatter needed for his helicopter instructor’s rating. Mountain flying was a very important aspect in helicopter training because it prepared pilots to recognise and manage da
ngerous wind conditions, to judge distances when approaching to land on high ledges and peaks and to conduct mountain rescues using the cable winches that we called hoists.
Mountain-flying training, though potentially dangerous, was great fun. Invariably our rest breaks included picnic lunches, trout fishing and naked swimming in icy mountain pools. For Hugh’s training with technician Ewett Sorrell we commandeered Corporal Jerry Duncan of the Station Photographic Section to make pictorial records of helicopter operations in the mountains.
One photograph we wanted necessitated placing Jerry on an impossibly small slippery rock to show hoisting work against the backdrop of Martin’s Falls.
In November John Rogers received notice that he would be leaving us. His disappointment at leaving helicopters was offset by his posting to command No 5 (Canberra) Squadron.
On the other hand, OC 1 (Hunter) Squadron, Squadron Leader Norman Walsh, was really distressed about his posting off Hunters to take command of helicopters. Like most pilots who had not flown helicopters, Norman looked upon thesemachines with disdain: “Bloody egg beaters! Not aircraft at all!” He was echoing a general view and did not believe me when I told him that he would come to enjoy flying Alouettes more than Hunters.
This photograph taken by Jerry Duncan shows Hugh Slatter on the cable operated by Ewett Sorrell with PB flying the helicopter.
Family in helicopter
Winds of Destruction Page 28
