Winds of Destruction

by Peter John Hornby Petter-Bowyer

  When the lead pilot checked in about five minutes before reaching the IP, we would synchronise watches and confirm individual running times from IPs to target. I would be told what weapons were being carried and the sequence in which they were to be delivered. This gave opportunity to suggest how the weapons should be distributed on the line of attack, relative to my target markers.

  Formation leaders normally planned to arrive at IP with as much as three minutes to spare. This was useful as it allowed me to make a slow approach onto my own IP in a series of orbits that the enemy on the ground recognised as my normal flight pattern. Even when out of sight, the sound of a piston aircraft indicates whether it is flying on a straight line or orbiting. In orbit the sound varies from highest frequency when approaching to lowest frequency when departing. For reasons of surprise, I needed to ensure that this continued right up to the moment that I turned in to fire my markers.

  For Hunters covering ground at the rate of seven nautical miles per minute, or Vampires and Canberras at five nm per minute, changes in wind velocity seldom affected their timing by more than parts of a second. However, the same conditions could make an enormous difference to the slow Trojan, which is why my own IP was always relatively close to target.

  Because it was important to mark bang on time I planned my final orbit line to be farthest from the jet attack line. In this way I was able to make adjustments in response to the strike leader’s calls. If I was running late I could turn in early, and if running early, turn in late. There were other important reasons to be on the side opposite to the jet attack direction.

  The Trojan noise covered that of the approaching jets and its presence drew terrorist attention away from the direction of their approach. In earlier times I was seldom aware of enemy fire though I knew it was happening because of the odd hole in my aircraft; but any ground fire directed at me provided additional noise cover and a perfect distraction.

  The camouflage paint on all of our aircraft was incredibly effective. This made it very difficult, even impossible, for high-flying jets to spot the FAC aircraft before reaching target. A variety of visual aids were tried. These included flashing strobe lights but only one worked reasonably well. This was a huge white ‘T’ painted on the top surface of the Trojan’s fuselage and wings. To make the ‘T’ clearly visible to the leading jet was another reason for marking towards the jets.

  Visibility markings.

  The Squadron Commander of Hunters in the period 1973-4 was Rob Gaunt. Flying FAC for him was quite an experience. Unlike other leaders, Rob favoured a procedure that worked well for him. He descended from the IP to run in at low level about one minute out from target. In this way he always picked up my aircraft flying at 2,000 feet before he pulled up to his ‘perch’ point, keeping me visual all the way.

  As I pulled up to roll over into the dive, Rob had his nose pointing towards the target, finger on trigger. Just by watching my dive, Rob placed his gunsight pipper at the point he expected to see the marker rockets. On three occasions I recall seeing Rob’s 30mm cannon shells exploding bang on target just before my phosphorus rockets reached ground. The white markers looked puny in the centre of the large area covered by his 30mm cannon shell flashes that rippled through target at forty rounds per second. This was very spectacular but I always tensed my buttocks expecting Rob to collide with me. There was really no danger at all; his Hunter always flashed through well below me.

  There was seldom need to call corrections to succeeding pilots, usually three of them, who placed their strikes to cover the target area without overlaps. When all was over, the jets returned to base and I continued recce, seldom to know what results had been achieved. Occasionally I saw individuals running during my marker attack, then nothing until the last Hunter had run through target. There were always bashas burning furiously with much black smoke and dust drifting on the wind before any human movement was observed. On occasions secondary explosions removed any doubts I might have experienced when no persons were seen.

  I continued to deeply regret not being able to work in the SAS areas of operations. Had this been allowed, no airstrike would have been made without SAS verification of ZANLA or FRELIMO presence. Following an airstrike the SAS would have been able to capitalise on enemy confusion and the Air Force would have known what results had been achieved. Many months were to pass before SAS moved in immediately after every air action. In the meanwhile, the SAS created havoc on the ground using no more than twenty-four men in six sticks of four men each. It took FRELIMO some time to realise what was happening and then they themselves started employing large forces to search for the elusive SAS; a kind of terrorist war in reverse!

  A pathfinder group making a free-fall parachute descent at last light from a Dakota flying high-level over unpopulated territory usually preceded deployment of the main SAS force. The four-man pathfinder group would then search for a suitable site to receive twenty men who would be flown in the following night.

  At their selected DZ (drop zone) the pathfinders provided pilots with the QFE (altimeter setting for zero height at the DZ) and guided the Dakota captain by VHF radio directly towards the DZ. Flying at 500 to 800 feet above ground, the pilot was told when to switch on ‘red light’ (standby) and when to switch on ‘green light’ (go); whereupon twenty men would launch themselves into the black. The reason for such low-level drops was to minimise the possibility of paratroopers drifting beyond the DZ. With the advent of anti-collision aids for aircraft known as strobe lights, their highly visible flashes provided perfect beacons for pilots to home on. To screen a strobe light’s potent flashes, SAS set them up in such a way as to make them visible only to the para-Dakota.

  By daybreak all parachutes and stores had been cached and, following a final briefing, all six sticks split up into four-man patrols and dispersed to their allocated areas. During the following six weeks the sticks operated independently, except when a target required them to rendezvous to strike in strength. Otherwise regrouping occurred at fortnightly intervals to receive night deliveries of rations and munitions from a Dakota that would, again, be controlled from the ground.

  Back at Macombe, the Provosts and Alouettes remained on immediate standby. Calls for support always involved a long wait for the SAS men working a long way from Macombe. Brian Robinson often accompanied Provost pilots, not only to talk to his men directly but because he was crazy about flying. Helicopters were often called for casualty evacuation or ‘hot extraction’. Provosts usually accompanied these helicopters and were also called upon to provide close fire support to any callsign being harassed by large FRELIMO forces. Considering the vastness of the territory and the minimal effects of Provost machine-gun and 37mm Sneb rocket strikes, there was little more that one or a pair of Provost pilots could do other than provide distraction and interfering fire to give the SAS a chance to break contact.

  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 la
st 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.