Winds of Destruction

by Peter John Hornby Petter-Bowyer

  I was having a drink in the small COMOPS pub one evening when, inevitably, the elections became the topic of conversation. Some time earlier I had come to the firm conclusion that, short of proscribing ZANU, there was absolutely no hope of stopping Mugabe coming to power. I expressed this opinion but had no chance to qualify it because a fiery COMOPS lieutenantcolonel was so put out by my words that he leapt across the bar counter intending to strike me with his fist. Major Peter Burford quickly came between us and told his colleague not to be a bloody fool. “I think the Groupie may be right. Give him an opportunity to tell us why.”

  My contention was this. The electorate could be counted on to give Smith and Nkomo a total of forty seats. For a number of reasons I thought this left the remaining sixty seats open to Mugabe. In terms of the Lancaster House Agreement, Mugabe should already have been ruled out of the elections for blatant and widespread intimidation and murder. But, the Brits were obviously not going to do this and, from what we could see, the NATJOC seemed either misinformed or too weak to force the issue, even though the Lancaster House Agreement had placed it in control of all security matters. NATJOC was specifically tasked with ensuring that the entire election process was conducted in a free and fair manner. With intimidation peaking and time running out, this made the NATJOC’s perceived inaction all the more intolerable.

  Muzorewa had shown himself to be weak and indecisive, whereas Mugabe had told the people that only he could stop the war. In Harare Township the urban people, who had been on-side throughout the war, were now openly singing Mugabe praise songs. To my way of thinking, the writing was on the wall. Eighty per cent of the black electorate lived outside Matabeleland, and all of these would vote ‘for peace’. They had suffered most and were now thoroughly sick and tired of a war they genuinely believed could only be stopped by Mugabe. That was my contention, but General Walls and the NATJOC obviously saw things differently.

  Possibly because he believed the information being fed to him and wished to uphold the morale of his forces, General Walls called a meeting of Army and Air Force officers at the New Sarum Sports Club. As I recall, no member of COMOPS staff was included.

  Since I did not attend the meeting addressed by General Walls, I cannot say exactly what was said. I do know, however, that he gave the assembled officers his personal guarantee that he would not allow Mugabe to come to power. I also know that the general’s speech left most officers with a clear understanding that military action would be taken against ZANU in the ‘unlikely event’ that it gained a majority at the polls. This notion, however, was very much at odds with what General Walls had told his own staff. In COMOPS we had been informed, categorically, that no unconstitutional action would be considered. General Walls said, “There is no question of Rhodesians indulging in a military coup.”

  The ‘whites only’ election was held on 14 February and went off smoothly with Ian Smith’s RF party gaining all twenty white seats, as expected. On 27, 28 and 29 February the ‘common roll’ voters went to the polling stations where illprepared London Bobbies and other Commonwealth observers watched the long lines of voters ‘to ensure that no intimidation was taking place’. They had no idea that ZANLA had told harassed tribesmen that the reason for three days of voting was simple. Day One was for all people voting for Mugabe; Day Two was for Muzorewa and Day Three for Nkomo. Anyone not voting on Day One would be dealt with very severely.

  The observers, most on African soil for the first time, were blissfully unaware of subtle intimidation going on right under their noses or of blatant intimidation against people approaching from beyond their sight; this was at its worst during Days Two and Three. But Rhodesians who watched could clearly see ZANLA’s underhanded methods. Intimidation was rife and people were told that voting for Mugabe had been extended to include all three days. “The spirits and special spies will reveal any individual who did not place his mark in favour of ZANU.”

  The news coming in from all around the country seemed to undo any false hopes amongst members of the NATJOC. High levels of frustration were evident with much toing and froing between COMOPS and Government House. General Walls sent an urgent signal to Margaret Thatcher in an attempt to stop the rot. He received no reply until elections were over, and there was not the faintest hint that any action would be taken by Britain against ZANU.

  Whilst this was going on, I continued to spend most of my time with ZIPRA and ZANLA. ZIPRA knew what was going on in the field and were thoroughly depressed. ZANLA knew what was going on in the field and were elated. Throughout the day of 3 March, results of the elections kept coming through but no clear-cut trend emerged until late that night. Things looked bad when I eventually retired to bed.

  I recall sitting at my desk the next morning when a sensation of overwhelming panic struck me just as a cup of tea was placed before me. Even though I thought I was fully prepared, final confirmation over the radio of Mugabe’s whopping fifty-seven seats victory floored me. It must have been really awful for those who had been so confident that Muzorewa would get more than eleven seats because he only gained three! During the afternoon the Ceasefire Committee held its closing meeting and a final photograph was taken on the steps outside the conference room.

  In a stunned state I wandered up to Air HQ to be near friends and to gaze out of the window of the office I once used for my projects work. Salisbury’s streets and avenues were filled with celebrating blacks. Open lorries were parading about, filled with excited people, flapping their arms and uttering the sound of a cockerel crowing at dawn—ZANU’s election symbol.

  Front row: General Barnard, Rex Nhongo, General Acland, Dumiso Dabengwa, PB. Middle row: Brigadier Gurdon, the pretty Rhodesian lady (half hidden) Miss C. Gardener who took notes for COMOPS, Lt-Col Parker Bowles, Lookout Masuku.

  Back row: Left: Rhodesian Army intelligence officer (face remembered but name forgotten). Not present: Josiah Tungamirai who had not yet returned from ZANLA’s pressure-electioneering campaign.

  Because I was a member of the Ceasefire Committee with continuing liaison duties between COMOPS, ZIPRA and ZANLA, it is not surprising that I was totally unaware that SAS and RLI were on immediate standby to take out ZANLA’s hierarchy in the event of a Mugabe victory. However, high hopes following detailed planning and rehearsed tasks, which included the employment of tanks and other heavy equipment, turned out to be a damp squib. The secret codeword to launch this top-secret operation was never given. Incensed by General Walls’s assurance that Mugabe would not be allowed to come to power, the disgusted SAS named the situation ‘Rhodesia’s Walls Street Crash’.

  At all of Salisbury’s major road intersections vehicle-borne troops waited for trouble whilst trying to put on a brave face for passing civilians—but nothing happened. Overhead, helicopters orbited, watching for any breakout of looting—but this did not occur. An air of depression and uncertainty hung over all who opposed ZANU as well as many who had been coerced through fear into voting for Mugabe’ party. Many people went home, shops closed and almost all work had ceased by midday.

  Radio and television stations ran some regular programmes, but for the most part Mugabe’s victory held prominence. Repeatedly listeners and viewers were reminded that Robert Mugabe would address the nation at 8 pm.

  When he came on air, Mugabe projected himself as a decent chap, preaching reconciliation and the need to put the past behind us. He was at pains to give hope and asked every citizen of the new Zimbabwe to move forward with faith and determination to build on its vibrant economy in a non-racial society. Whilst he was speaking, I sensed considerable relief. However, when he had finished, I thought things through.

  When released from prison in 1974 to participate in the Zambian-South African sponsored talks in Lusaka, Mugabe had broken solemn undertakings by escaping into Mozambique. He had failed to meet any promise made to Nkomo. Yet now, having blatantly broken every agreement with Britain and three other parties at Lancaster House, he was projecting himself as an honest
and fair-minded man. I could not accept this. The Mugabe leopard was not about to change his spots; he was a Marxist through and through and could be counted on to change direction whenever it suited him.

  Within an hour of the speech my mind was made up. I had to resign from the Air Force and decide if I should stay in Zimbabwe or sell up and move my family away from a Marxist government that would undoubtedly become a oneparty dictatorship, just like the rest of black Africa. Personal enrichment for Africa’s leading politicians had deprived their peoples of pre-independence wealth and their pathetic management had destroyed previously strong economic foundations. Zimbabwe would be no different!

  Joint High Command HQ

  SETTING UP THE JOINT HIGH Command Headquarters commenced on 6 March. Whilst COMOPS HQ was being wrapped up I, together with a handful of officers, commenced furnishing new offices in a newly built wing at Army HQ. Unfortunately Brigadier Peter Rich had retired and Brian Robinson was no longer with COMOPS so those of us remaining no longer enjoyed any spirit of fun and laughter. Brigadier Leon Jacobs replaced Peter Rich but I hardly ever saw him.

  Air HQ was already inundated with resignations. So, knowing that the notice period would only take effect at the end of the month, I did not tender mine right away. I had in excess of 300 days’ leave due, though only 184 of these attracted leave pay, but this was more than sufficient to cover the mandatory three-months notice period meaning that I could withhold my resignation to the end of March and leave the service immediately. As it happened, I stayed on until the end of May.

  The ZIPRA and ZANLA commanders moved into their offices as soon as they were ready. Progressively other offices filled and Zimbabwe’s Joint High Command HQ started to function under command of Lieutenant-General Walls who had been appointed to the position by Prime Minister Mugabe.

  My job was to continue as the linkman with ZIPRA and ZANLA, initially to prepare for the integration of forces. Since most of this involved Army matters, Lieutenant-Colonel ‘Fluff’ Templer worked with me. Amongst the many issues to be thrashed out was the question of bringing in all ZIPRA and ZANLA arms and equipment from Zambia and Mozambique. Though it took some time, ZIPRA handed me their ordnance schedules and, as agreed, Fluff Templer let them have sight of the Rhodesian Army’s schedules. I did the same by showing those of the Air Force.

  Rex Nhongo insisted on seeing all these schedules, even though he was not forthcoming with his own. This was largely due to the loss of Josiah Tongogara and utter confusion in Mozambique. Besides, most records were lost to ZANLA during multiple operations against the various Chimoio bases and finally as a consequence of the Monte Casino raid. Nevertheless, I refused to show ZANLA anything until they were in a position to reciprocate.

  ZIPRA’s lists were neat and well presented. They revealed larger numbers of battle tanks, APCs and other fighting equipment than we had expected. I had already left the service when ZIPRA’s equipment eventually came into the country via Victoria Falls, but was told that the equipment matched the lists, whereas ZANLA, as expected, never made any submission.

  ZANLA continued to claim having more equipment than ZIPRA. We knew this was pure bluff, which was later confirmed by a senior ZANLA officer. In a drunken state he let slip that there were no reserves in Mozambique and that, had the war continued, ZANLA would have collapsed around mid-1980. This was mind-boggling news making us realise that, had Op Manacle taken place, ZANLA would have been out of the game before the Lancaster House Talks were concluded. Bloody sickening! Nevertheless we were stuck with a political failure and had to make the best of the situation.

  Fluff Templer and I spent many hours in discussion with the ZANLA and ZIPRA commanders and provided them with every single idea on many matters relating to the integration of forces. Along the way, agendas were raised for repeat discussions with General Walls, the Commanders of the Army and Air Force, the Commissioner of Police and Ken Flower who continued to head CIO.

  Nothing that Fluff and I recommended was accepted in these long drawn-out meetings that covered the same ground but resulted in totally different agreements. I felt we were wasting our time but General Walls insisted that Fluff and I should continue because we were exposing ZIPRA and ZANLA to many issues and complications that prepared them better for the high-level meetings.

  When I submitted my resignation to Air HQ, the only real resistance to my leaving service came from Air Commodore Norman Walsh and Group Captain Hugh Slatter who both tried to persuade me to stay on. At Joint High Command ZIPRA and ZANLA received the news badly. All four commanders, individually, begged me to remain because they said they knew me better than any other RSF officer and had come to trust me above all others. This was the continuing issue of preferring Air Force to other services.

  My situation became especially difficult when Rex Nhongo said that he and all ZANLA and ZIPRA commanders wanted me to take overall command of all forces. He said Mugabe had supported this. I told Rex this was an absolute impossibility. Not only was I five rank-levels below the rank he was considering, I was totally unprepared in experience for such a position. His reply showed how differently he thought. “When the sergeant is better than the lieutenant-colonel, the sergeant becomes the full colonel.”

  This situation was altogether unexpected and I saw great danger in it. In Rhodesian terms, I knew I was totally unprepared for such a responsible position, and even less so for what promised to become a political post. Why I even thought the matter through I couldn’t say because my heart was already set on getting out of uniform. Strangely, I was helped in making a final decision by one of ZANLA’s field commanders who warned me that Zimbabwe would soon be driven by ideologies that would fail to fill peoples’ stomachs. He was certain that the ordinary man would fail to realise any of the ‘freedom’ promises made by politicians whose future actions would all be driven by personal greed.

  On Tuesday 27 May 1980, four days before my last day in office, I was leaving home for work when I spotted a stationary grey Land Rover with a long HF aerial. It was parked just beyond our garden gate on the other side of the street. Immediately I became suspicious and, as I passed by and looked towards the driver, I saw a white man of about sixty years of age flick his head away and raise a newspaper high enough to prevent my seeing his face through my rear-view mirror. Day and night for the next 730 days my movements were monitored from grey CIO Peugeot 504 sedans with long HF aerials.

  Air Marshal Mick McLaren had retired four months earlier and became Director of Shell and BP Subsidiary Companies. When I retired, he offered me a position as general manager of one of these companies. Within eighteen months I was managing two more and became a member of the Board of Directors of Subsidiary Companies.

  This must have been a headache for the CIO who monitored all my movements. From early morning until about midnight, one of four vehicles was always in one or other of three shaded parking spots outside my house. But what really floored me was that the other three vehicles were waiting at the three companies, all manned by elderly white men whom I deliberately ignored. My business telephones were fine but my home telephone was tapped whenever I was at home. About one second after line connection, a distinct click was followed by a dull background noise that persisted for the duration of each call.

  I can only assume that my reasons for refusing to stay on with the Zimbabwe forces were treated with suspicion, something along the line “If he is not with us he must be against us!” Funnily enough I became so used to being monitored that, when surveillance was lifted on 27 May 1982, I experienced a strange sense of nakedness knowing that I was no longer important. In November and December I went overseas to explore a business opportunity. Upon my return, full surveillance of my movements was reinstated, but only for one week. This made it safe for me to move out of Zimbabwe.

  In April 1983 I left the country of my birth for good. Beryl stayed on for another five months to wind up her hairdressing business and sell our home. Both our children had moved ahead of us t
o South Africa. Debbie was nursing at Groote Schuur Hospital and Paul was at Rhodes University in Cape Town doing Chemical Engineering.

  There was much pain in leaving such a beautiful country, but we had decided that Rhodesia no longer existed. This had nothing to do with the change of the country’s name or the fact that blacks were in power. It had everything to do with a top-heavy government bent on establishing a Marxist-styled one-party dictatorship that would almost certainly destroy our country. Anyway Mugabe’s promises of a country in which all could live in harmony and peace were already showing serious cracks.

  Many officers and men stayed on with the Air Force of Zimbabwe, all enjoying hugely accelerated promotion to fill gaps left by senior men who chose not to serve under the new political order. Those who remained were all fine men who gave their all to maintaining the Air Force they loved. But then things took a nasty turn on Sunday 25 July 1982 when South African-based saboteurs launched an attack against aircraft based at Thornhill.

  What these saboteurs hoped to achieve one cannot say but the repercussions of the incident were horrifying. Determined to find someone to blame for the embarrassment of losing four brand-new Hawk Mk60 fighters, Hunters and a Lynx, Mugabe’s bullyboys turned on Air Force officers who suffered arrest, foul torture and false accusations. This hysterical action by ignorant political thugs showed that ZANU did not understand that Air Force men could never have considered destroying the very aircraft they loved so much.

  I have to say that this horror made me pleased I had left the service when I did. But knowing my friends were in prison I sought to see what I could do to help. The Commander of the Air Force of Zimbabwe, Air Marshal Norman Walsh, told me to stay well clear of these matters, as they were very sensitive. He himself was under twenty-four-hour surveillance and did not require any more help than he and the imprisoned officers were receiving from lawyers Mike Hartmann, Rhett Gardener and Mike d’Enis.