Winds of Destruction

by Peter John Hornby Petter-Bowyer

  In what was probably the most successful ambush of the war, ZIPRA lost large numbers of men and equipment in an SAS ambush in southern Zambia. After the ambush landmines were laid to take out ZIPRA hierarchy who were sure to visit the scene once they felt it was safe enough to do so. Three days later, in spite of Zambian Army assistance and a very precautionary approach to inspect the devastation, ZIPRA suffered the loss of its military commander, Alfred Nkita Mangena, and three senior men wounded when their vehicle detonated one of the landmines that awaited them. SAS had put ZIPRA on the back foot again, giving the overstretched RSF the respite they needed.

  Deaths of du Toit and Nelson

  AS STATED EARLIER, FRELIMO AND ZANLA had regained composure and control in the Tete Province following the withdrawal of the SAS. RLI teams were still there when, on 28 July 1978, two G-Cars with a Lynx in support were tasked to uplift callsign 74. This was about thirty kilometres north of the position where Cocky Benecke’s Mini-golf bomb had relieved RLI callsign 75 eight days earlier. However, due to an aircraft un-serviceability problem, the RLI officer responsible for the external operation arrived to give the aircrew a briefing very late in the day. This unavoidable situation was a contributing factor to developments that occurred when it was too late to call for Hunter support.

  Just before sunset and about three kilometres short of c/s 74, Francois du Toit was leading Air Lieutenant Nigel Lamb at about twenty feet above the trees when both helicopters came under intense fire from their left side. Francois, flying some 100 metres to the left of Nigel, was seen to flare indicating he was force-landing before disappearing from Nigel’s view behind trees.

  Still under heavy fire, Nigel had no alternative but to press on to collect c/s 74 to bring troops back to check on the downed helicopter. As he did this, Nigel briefed Flight Lieutenant Mike Abrams flying the accompanying Lynx. When Nigel looked up for the Lynx he saw that “flak was bursting all around the aircraft.” This was most likely RPG 7 rockets and Strela.

  Due to high fuel weight, Nigel could only lift two men from c/s 74. Under supporting fire from the Lynx, he deposited the two soldiers, now called 74A, on the ground about fifty metres from the downed helicopter; but these two men came under intensive fire the moment the helicopter turned around to collect the remaining two members of c/s 74.

  The weight of fire coming from a position just fifty metres from the crash site, which was over to 74A’s right, showed the enemy’s strength to be far too great for the two soldiers. Nevertheless they managed to get to within thirty metres of Francois’ aircraft and reported that there was no movement whatsoever from the badly flattened helicopter. By then heavy fire, including RPG 7 rockets, was also being directed at c/s 74A and the Lynx from high ground 200 metres west of the crash site. Fire was returned by c/s 74A, the Lynx and the returning G-Car, but 74A remained pinned down.

  Moving behind the cover of a low ridge, Nigel and his technician-gunner Chris Saint, dumped everything possible from their fully laden Alouette preparatory to rescuing c/s 74A. There was no time to dump the helicopter’s refueller or the hot extraction gear. Fighting jangled nerves and uncontrollable shaking of his legs, Nigel flew back to recover the very distressed pair of soldiers. As he went he prayed for a safe LZ, a reliable engine and a very strong gearbox. Under heavy fire Nigel found a suitable LZ and Mike Abrams attacked to draw attention to himself whilst the two soldiers made a bolt for the helicopter. When the two panting men arrived, Nigel ordered them to abandon their packs before making a substantially overweight lift–off for Rhodesia. To have left the four RLI soldiers on the ground for the night was never a question, and it was too late to bring in other soldiers to the crash site.

  The next day, with Hunters overhead, the RLI moved in and confirmed what was already known. Flight Lieutenant du Toit and Sergeant Nelson were dead, Francois having been mortally wounded in the initial ground fire. He died in his seat before he could complete the autorotative forced landing he had initiated. Either bullet wounds or the resulting crash killed his technician because both bodies were riddled with bullet holes. Many years after this incident, Nigel told author, Beryl Salt, “I have found it more comfortable to believe that these were inflicted before impact.”

  Like so many of our aircrew youngsters then engaged in operations, I hardly knew Sergeant Nelson (whose brother had leaped to his death from the burning helicopter). On the other hand I knew Francois very well; and Beryl had a particularly soft spot for this super young man with his ever-ready smile.

  Second Tembue attack

  I ONLY LEARNED OF FRANCOIS’ DEATH when I was about to get airborne for another attack on Tembue, again as the Admin Base commander. It was early morning on Sunday 30 July when we set off for the Train to refuel in freezing cold weather before continuing on to Tembue. ZANLA had reestablished Tembue base a relatively short distance away across the main road running from Tete town to Zambia to the east of the original base. This base was nothing more than a number of interconnected camp areas containing small bashas with no major structures such as kitchens, lecture rooms or latrines.

  Two two-man Selous Scouts recce teams had been sent in but one was blown almost immediately forcing it to call for hot extraction. However, Schulie and his man remained in position and reported that, whilst CT numbers were way below expectation, there were certainly CTs present at the end of the base that they could see from their hide.

  Airstrikes went in on time followed by paratroopers, helicopter-borne troops and K-Cars. The DC7 staggered over the Admin Base and put down the protection party, ammunition and fuel exactly where I wanted them dropped. This admin base lay in a vlei three kilometres to the west of the main road with Tembue 2, commencing some six kilometres away and stretching eastward for another six kilometres to Schulie’s hiding place. Earlier admin area experience made the matters of parachute- and drum-handling run smoothly despite the discomfort given by the presence of many itchy buffalo-bean bushes. On this occasion I had a folding chair and a table on which to place my radio and keep simple records under a huge mahobahoba tree.

  It was clear from the outset that very few CTs were being accounted for. Selous Scouts blamed the Air Force for dropping the paratroopers in the wrong place, forcing them to walk too great a distance to the CT base areas in which the embers of many night fires still glowed red. Unfortunately Selous Scouts had changed character a great deal by this stage in the war and were quick to point fingers when they themselves may have been at fault. Anyway, I have no doubt that Flight Lieutenant Dave Thorne, who led the four paratrooper Dakotas, placed the troops precisely where they were supposed to land.

  At midday FRELIMO came to the party and commenced firing at helicopters crossing over the main road between the CT camps and the Admin Base. Explosions from the hills close behind us had me really worried until the protection troops said these were no more than echoes from the exploding RPG 7 and Strela warheads being fired at passing aircraft. Nevertheless there was now some concern for the safety of the helicopters and personnel in the Admin Base area, so SAS sticks were flown in from unproductive sectors of the CT bases to bolster the existing Admin Base protection party.

  During the afternoon one helicopter coming in to land passed directly over another whose rotor blades were still slowing down after engine shutdown. This forbidden action resulted in the helicopter on the ground sustaining damage when its still turning blades flapped down into the tail cone. Moments later, a sound resembling heavy-calibre machine-gun fire in the centre of the Admin Base made everyone dive for cover before it was realised that another helicopter’s rotor wash had drawn in a parachute that was being flayed by its fast-moving blades. Fortunately the only damage incurred was the destruction of the small plastic reservoirs on top of the rotor head; but these contained vital hydraulic fluid for the rotors damper systems and the aircraft could not be flown.

  By late afternoon we had two machines awaiting repairs in the field and were almost out of fuel. Happily the FRELIMO force had
moved off, probably having expended all its ammunition, but more fuel had to be flown in and it became obvious that everyone would have to remain where they were for the night. When the DC7 returned, its first drop was momentarily delayed beyond my ‘green light’ call resulting in a fuel pallet crashing through the mahobahoba tree under which I was standing and damaged my little table. What horrified everyone each time the DC7 passed 200 feet above us was the bright flaming of its ringed exhaust system that could not possibly be missed by Strela in the fast-fading light.

  None of the aircrew had any type of bedding for the cold night ahead, nor did we have anything to eat. However concern for a possible FRELIMO attack put hunger in second place as we gathered up parachutes, rolled into them and lay quietly listening to every sound of the night awaiting to be overtaken by sleep. Around us the helicopter vision screens reflected starlight so brightly that they appeared like beacons to an unseen enemy. By this time however, there were fair numbers of SAS troops ranged around the Admin Base, which was very comforting. Lying on my back in moderate comfort and gazing at the bright stars so tightly packed in cold clear conditions, I couldn’t help wondering why in the world war was so endemic to mankind when there was so much space for all to live in peace.

  I was still pondering on this when I felt a snake move across my shoulder, over my chest, under the parachute and down to my feet. There it turned direction coming back between my legs heading for my chin. I dared not move nor even whisper a word to those around me. I felt the snake’s head bump my chin then turn towards my feet again, this time outside the parachute. Then I felt a fluttering on my chest as the rest of the snake’s body kept flowing upwards. When the tail was out, I gently lowered my chin to see what the creature was doing, only to find many little field mice milling around on my chest and stomach. These little blighters were responsible for my uncomfortable moments, having made a snake-like, head-to-tail journey through the warmth of my makeshift bed.

  I rose at dawn in light, freezing fog to brew a cup of coffee. A little distance away I saw an old black man sitting by a small fire. He had been found close to the Admin Base the previous day and had been apprehended by the Army protection force to ensure that he did not go off to report our position to FRELIMO. The old fellow had been well fed with food he probably had not seen for years and seemed very pleased to be among us. Now however, in the cold dawn wearing only a pair of tattered shorts, he was very cold and his body shook in violent spasms that wracked his scrawny frame. I removed my anorak and took off the thick grey home-knitted jersey under it to give to the old man. Judging by the expression on his old face, nothing in the world could have brought him more joy.

  The whole helicopter force lifted off early for the return flight to Mount Darwin, leaving behind the protection party, the old black man and two unserviceable helicopters with their crews. There were also stay-behind forces in the Tembue 2 camp complex.

  It was only when we reached Mount Darwin that it dawned on me that the jersey I had given the old man had my nametag sewn inside its collar. Harold Griffiths, released from COMOPS for this operation, was returning to the Admin Base next day so I requested that he find the old man and remove the nametag from his jersey as a precaution against possible retribution by FRELIMO. When I saw Griff again, he handed me the nametag saying the old man had been sad to see everyone go.

  I left Mount Darwin for New Sarum during the evening of our return from Tembue 2. To see me off was the New Sarum Station Warrant Officer, Barney Barnes, who was enjoying a spell at FAF 4. He was full of bounce and just as noisy as ever when he closed my Cessna’s door and bid me farewell. So it came as a real shock to be told, only forty minutes later, that Barney Barnes had died of a heart attack as he entered the FAF 4 pub, having just seen me off.

  Griff looking completely beggared upon his first return from Tembue 2.

  Viscount disaster

  SADLY, AIR RHODESIA HAD DONE nothing to protect their Viscount airliners against Strela, despite Air Force warnings and their knowledge of two failed attempts by ZIPRA to shoot down South African Airways aircraft on scheduled flights to Victoria Falls Airport. The price for this omission was paid on 3 September 1978 when a routine flight from Kariba to Salisbury met with a tragedy that had the people of Rhodesia reeling.

  At this angle, Hunter exhausts became visible to Strela whereas the special paint rendered the airframe invisible. The Viscount on the other hand, having four large fully exposed exhausts plus a highly visible airframe was easily detectable for miles in any direction.

  Captain John Hood and First Officer Garth Beaumont took off from Kariba Airport on Air Rhodesia Flight 825 climbing the Viscount out westward over the lake in accordance with standing instruction. This was a precautionary procedure to guard against possible CT ground fire that might pose a threat on the easterly climb-out over land. They turned southeastward for Salisbury and were still in the climb over Urungwe Tribal Trust Lands when a Strela missile exploded between the two starboard engines. Both engines failed and an intense fire broke out.

  Having no option but to get the aircraft on the ground as soon as possible, John Hood put out a ‘May Day’ call but had insufficient time to give the Kariba Air Traffic Controller his exact location. Warning of an impending forced-landing was given to the passengers who adopted the head-on-knees posture to limit injury after touch-down. Following a relatively gentle landing on the best available open field, the aircraft rolled for some distance before pitching into an unseen donga that killed both pilots, destroyed the Viscount and ruptured fuel tanks that set the distorted cabin ablaze.

  Forty passengers and crew died in the crash but eighteen miraculously clambered out to safety, most with injuries. Five of the passengers helped settle the injured before going in search of water and help. They were some distance away by the time a group of ZIPRA CTs arrived at the crash site. Initially the CTs told the survivors not to be afraid, but then opened fire killing ten of then. Three managed to make their escape under fire.

  I flew one of a number of aircraft hurriedly gathered to search for the Viscount that was known to be down but whose fate was not yet known. Fortunately a Dakota, taking part in the search and assigned to the most likely area, was carrying SAS paratroopers fully prepared for deployment. It so happened that it was this Dakota crew who located the stricken airliner and the SAS parachuted onto site immediately. The horror of what they discovered and reported reverberated around the world.

  Interviewed on BBC television that same evening, Joshua Nkomo responded with a big smile and a hateful belly laugh as he acknowledged that ZIPRA was responsible for the deliberate downing of the civilian aircraft. The Western world heard this quite clearly but chose to ignore the horror because Rhodesia continued to be a hindrance to the West’s obvious desire to turn the country over to communists. So what if innocent civilians had been deliberately murdered!

  Rhodesians had become accustomed to the attitude of so-called friendly governments; though none of us ever understood why they were so determined to destroy what Ian Smith termed ‘responsible government’. They aimed only at appeasing black governments that had wrecked their once prosperous countries. This we had become used to, but the West’s total disinterest in the Viscount disaster was sickening.

  Dean of Salisbury’s Anglican Cathedral, John de Costa, conducted a highly emotional memorial service for the victims of the Viscount disaster during which he expressed the feelings of all anti-communist Rhodesians in a sermon that highlighted the ‘deafening silence’ from our very kith and kin in the West. “Nobody who holds sacred the dignity of human life can be anything but sickened at the events attending the Viscount… this bestiality stinks in the nostrils of Heaven. But are we deafened with the voice of protest from nations who call themselves civilised? We are not! Like men in the story of the good Samaritan, they pass by on the other side.”

  Ian Smith had continued in his attempts to involve Joshua Nkomo and his ZAPU party in the new order of government. Fol
lowing the Viscount disaster however, anger within his party and the Rhodesian people as a whole made further attempts impossible. Everyone wanted Nkomo’s blood together with those CTs responsible for mindless murder. One week after the Viscount disaster, a grim-faced Ian Smith addressed the nation and introduced martial law in selected areas. He also gave clear warning to neighbouring territories that they must bear the consequences of any defensive strikes we might direct at CT bases within their territories. This was no idle threat because over-border strikes into Mozambique and Zambia commenced one week later.

  Before Air Rhodesia had completed preliminary work to provide Viscounts with anti-Strela shielding, a second Viscount was shot down on 12 February 1979, again by ZIPRA. For some reason the scheduled departure of this Viscount, again from Kariba to Salisbury, was running a little late. Inexplicably, instead of climbing out over the lake, the skipper decided to take off in the opposite direction. Turning for Salisbury in its climb over land, the aircraft was critically damaged by a Strela missile that sent it plunging into heavy bush in very rough terrain. No one survived this time.

  Subsequent to the second disaster, Air Rhodesia succeeded in shrouding Viscount exhaust pipes and painting the aircraft with the appropriate low-radiation paint. The Air Force’s modified Strela test-bed was unable to detect Viscounts flying above 2,000 feet. If any other Strela missiles were fired at Viscounts, they passed unnoticed.

  Return to Chimoio

  TEN MONTHS HAD PASSED SINCE Chimoio was destroyed, leaving ZANLA in a state of chaos until re-established in their New Chimoio complex east of the original site. SB had put together intelligence which, when linked to photo recce, revealed what was believed to be the whole of the target area.