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.
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.
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.
