SAS, was then CO of the RLI and based with his soldiers at Nyamasoto.

Immediately 4 Squadron arrived, I suggested that I should go over border to build up an intelligence picture of the ground. Initial reaction from Peter Rich was negative. He felt that I would upset ZANLA and make the Army’s task more difficult. However this officer with a fast penetrating wit eventually gave in to my nagging and agreed to “give this newfangled air recce a try”. Within an hour on my first flight, I picked up a temporary base in a small break in a line of low hills, fairly close to a main path. Initially I was concerned this might be a path network created by wild pigs either side of heavily treed and broken rock cover. However, a strong link to the main pathway did not fit with anything but men, so I called for troops to be brought in by helicopters. Peter Rich sounded distinctly sceptical but he agreed to respond.

Although I was quite certain that this was a base without structures, I had no way of knowing if it was occupied. Nevertheless I did not wish to give any terrorist the impression of being too interested in the spot so continued to orbit getting progressively farther away. When four helicopters checked in with me, I cut across country to pick them up to ensure we arrived at the base at the same time. Immediately we got there the helicopters landed all their troops in long grass south of the base. I watched the troops shake out into an echelon formation then move directly towards the gap in the hill line.

I was greatly relieved when contact was made with terrorists who had gone to ground inside the base area. From Nyamasoto, Peter Rich called, “Bloody marvellous, I owe you a beer.” Had he taken my information more seriously, the advice to split the troop deployment either side of the gap would have disallowed escape of most of the terrorists who broke northward. Final results were fair with seven killed, two escaped wounded and three captured out of a group of twenty-four ZANLA. This was one of a number of groups that had come from Zambia through Tete carrying supplies, now hidden in Rhodesia. We had caught these terrorists on their way back to Zambia in what was no more than a regular resting spot on water along their route to and from Rhodesia. Personal equipment that had been abandoned by terrorists was booby-trapped with phosphorus grenades, accounting for another terrorist two weeks after this action.

Back at Nyamasoto, Peter Rich apologised for not having taken me seriously because he did not believe it was possible to locate terrorists from the air. I told him there was no need for any apology because my squadron was still on a pretty steep learning curve.

I do not know if it was our three captures or an SB agent within ZANLA that led Peter Stanton to ZANLA’s bush ‘post box’; a lone hollow tree inside Rhodesia in which instructions were lodged for ZANLA’s group commanders. Not only was Peter able to record the latest instructions found in the ‘post box’, these led him to a huge arms cache, which included landmines, on the side of a prominent hill not far from the post box. Here Peter unearthed weapons in such numbers that he was astounded so much communist equipment could have come into the country unreported by the locals and undetectedby police ‘ground coverage’. Obviously, indoctrination of the local people was already well advanced!

My plan to continue putting together all available visual recce information along the border was temporarily interrupted by a call to assist the SAS. Callsign 21 reported being pinned down inside Mozambique by enemy fire coming from a high ridge overlooking their flat exposed position. There was no way the callsign could advance or retreat from where individuals lay in the best cover available. I raced to the Provost and flew directly to the given map reference. This particular Provost was different from the others in that it had a trial-fit of four .303 Browning machine-guns, two in each wing, instead of the standard pair. The four guns had received limited testing so this call gave opportunity to see how they would fare on their first live target. It happened also to be my first-ever live attack in a light fixed-wing aircraft.

The target description was so well structured that I knew where to lay down fire whilst still some distance out. I told callsign 21 that I would commence firing at long range and asked him to give me corrections on fall of shot that he should pick up easily from dust and tracer rounds. As soon as I started firing I received his call, “On target”. So I laced the appropriate section of the ridge-line, then stood off to await developments.

The terrorists, who were almost certainly FRELIMO and obviously shaken by the noise of 1,000 rounds cracking around them, ceased firing at callsign 21 to flee from the area—though I saw nothing of them. A sweep up and over the ridge succeeded in locating the terrorist firing positions but apart from expended communist 7.62mm cartridges and many .303 bullet holes in the trees nothing was found. The SAS continued on their intelligence gathering patrol and I returned to Nyamasoto.

Visual reconnaissance across the border was made difficult by the paths of many refugees, some into small hidden camps and others into Rhodesia. Quite why they were running from FRELIMO was difficult to understand initially. Then, following up on an SAS report, I picked up the trail of a very large herd of cattle that had obviously been stolen from the Mozambican tribesmen. They had been driven away to the north by FRELIMO but I broke off my search having tracked the herd for more than forty kilometres from our border.

I also noticed that most Mozambican villages had been abandoned and that no crops had been planted. All this confirmed that FRELIMO had been in control of Tete, all the way up to our border, for some considerable time. It also meant that we would have to fight both FRELIMO and ZANLA to prevent terrorism from taking root in Rhodesia.

Although every consideration and effort was given to preventing civilians becoming involved in any armed conflict, it was inevitable that unexpected incidents did occur. One such occasion gave rise to a situation that was described to me by one of the helicopter pilots. Although I was not involved in any way, I think it is a story well worth repeating in the style of its telling.

Nicholas and the old man

RLI PURSUED A MIXED GROUP of FRELIMO and ZANLA in a running action from the Rhodesian border deep into Mozambique. Most Mozambican civilians dispersed and ran from the fighting in the general direction of Rhodesia. Then during this day, one RLI callsign of four soldiers came upon a very old, partially blind man standing by himself under a largetree. He was in a state of fear and confusion. The soldiers did what they could to calm the old fellow with drink and food but it took time to understand that his distress centred on the loss of his personal donkey. It transpired that the donkey’s name was Nicholas and that he was no ordinary donkey; he was blue-grey in colour. The old man relied on Nicholas to carry him about and he had been trained to answer to his name. Nicholas was also trained to make mounting easy for the old man.

The soldiers called for helicopter assistance but were told that all the helicopters were too busy—one would come over when there was opportunity. The hours moved on and, though the white soldiers with their new-found charge tried to be patient, they called many times to make sure the Air Force had not forgotten its promise. When eventually a helicopter could be spared, the pilot was surprised to be asked to search for a blue-grey donkey.

Helicopters are extremely expensive to run and, in operations involving the movement of troops, fuel endurance is limited. Nevertheless the RLI soldiers’ story touched the pilot’s heart so he started a search. He managed to find a handful of donkeys, which he herded together before driving them towards the far-off tree under which the old man waited with his RLI friends. When the donkeys were close enough, the pilot broke away for Rhodesia to refuel.

The RLI soldiers were tickled pink when one donkey responded to the old man’s frail call, “Nicholas, Nicholas”. Sure enough the donkey that came to them was blue-grey, not like those other common brownie-grey jobs. He trotted straight to the old man whose eyes streamed with happy tears. But this was not the end of the story for the Air Force. The RLI troopies were not going to leave the old man and Nicholas behind because all of his kinsfolk had disappeared; so they called for helicopter uplift of themselves, the old man and Nicholas.

When a helicopter pilot said he could take the old man but that there was no possibility of getting Nicholas inside the helicopter, the RLI soldiers already had the answer to that problem. They had ripped apart their webbing and had fashioned a harness to lift Nicholas back to Rhodesia by way of the cargo sling, which was fitted to every helicopter.

By this time the helicopter pilots, who had just about completed the uplift of RLI troops back to Rhodesia, were getting a bit fed up with the persistence of the troopies. Being closest to the border, they were assigned for

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