the last lift but their persistence and 7 Squadron’s flexible attitude soon had the callsign and old man airborne with one braying donkey hanging under the helicopter.
The flight had to be made at slow speed so as not to spin the donkey or drown him in the airflow. At the RLI’s bush base, Nicholas came into contact with the ground gently, the pilot pressed his cargo release button and Nicholas waited patiently for his harness to be removed. Within five minutes he was nibbling fresh green grass. The old man had his own tent, complete with the most comfortable bed he had ever known. He was given a hot shower and fresh clothing to replace his rags.
The old man and Nicholas were tended day and night by the troopies who had found him. When these soldiers went on patrol they handed their wards into the care of other soldiers. For two weeks Nicholas and the old man were comfortable and both gained weight. Then, out of the blue, there was the sharp crack of a rifle shot in the camp. The small contingent of soldiers and helicopter crews in base rushed to investigate and were horrified to find Nicholas lying dead from a bullet through his brain. A vehicle was racing away westward and the INTAF man, who came to shoot Nicholas for being ‘illegally imported into the country without veterinary inspection and compulsory quarantine’, was lucky to get away with his life. Had the RLI soldiers who gave chase in a lumbering Army truck caught up with this guy, there can be no doubt that theywould have killed him, so great was their anger.
The helicopter pilot who told me this sad story was the one who intercepted the INTAF man, possibly a District Officer acting on instructions from the District Commissioner, and flew him to safety. This he did to protect RLI soldiers from committing murder, certainly not out of pity for the detestable INTAF man. An attempt to console the old man and find a replacement blue-grey donkey failed when, just a few days later, he died broken-hearted. Internal Affairs’ reputation, already poor amongst operational soldiers and airmen, worsened.
For me, this story highlighted the very best and worst of the human spirit but it also raises another issue that you, the reader, can judge for yourself. I recorded what you have just read in about 1985. Now in 2001, following publication of Beryl Salt’s book—
As the final day progressed, with time running out, I was able to pile more and more people into my Alouette III as fuel burned off. My last load, with fuel down to 110 pounds, was a total of twenty-nine passengers (surely a world record), with my tech Finn Cunningham sitting outside on the running board with his feet on the port wheel.
This load included an old man with a crude type of skateboard. The RAR CSM approached me saying that the old man was a cripple who had trained a donkey called Reggie to pull him around the village and into the fields. It was his most treasured possession. In the fading light, I agreed to do one more lift. We set off with a cargo net and sure enough, there in the field standing alone was Reggie, a riempie halter around his neck. We loaded him into the net without any fuss and with the donkey dangling under the chopper we delivered him to his owner who was beside himself with joyat having been reunited with his companion.
The District Commissioner, who was probably under orders, had specified that no livestock would be permitted. He summarily shot Reggie. The RAR were so incensed that they had to be restrained from evening the score.
I prefer the first story and like the name Nicholas better than Reggie, but I am left wondering if Ian Harvey’s account is the correct one or if there were two old men with special donkeys. Seems unlikely!
Beit Bridge rail link
THE SERIOUS DEVELOPMENTS IN THE northeast confirmed our worst fears that the Portuguese would not contain FRELIMO. It also brought into question just how long our roads, railways and oil pipelines linking us to the port at Beira would remain secure. Similar concerns were developing for the future security of Rhodesia’s other rail lines to the coast. These ran to Lourenco Marques, the capital of Mozambique, and to South Africa via Botswana. Botswana showed no sign of outright hostility to Rhodesia, but it was clear that Seretse Khama’s black government could be forced by African governments to turn the screws on us.
Ian Smith knew that only a direct rail link with South Africa via Beit Bridge would overcome future political crises; to which end planning for a new line from Rutenga to the Limpopo, to link into the South African rail system at Messina, was stepped up. This 147-kilometre line was eventually built in just three months instead of twelve months as originally planned.
Commencement of Operation Hurricane
BY DECEMBER 1972, REX NHONGO’S ZANLA group had been in the St Albert’s Mission area for over seven months, politicising the locals, taking out recruits for training and building up war supplies. His group was based exactly where 4 Squadron had reported its presence in late July. Undisturbed, Rex Nhongo (his
By now Rex was ready for offensive operations that he planned to launch between Christmas and New Year when he guessed many servicemen would be on leave. ZANLA groups to his east were supposed to open their offensive at the sametime. But news from the eastern groups was bad, so Rex decided to strike immediately with a view to drawing Rhodesian forces away from stressed comrades.
On the night of 21 December he attacked the farmstead at Altena Farm, which was to the west of his base area. Though this attack occurred earlier than intended, it fitted with Rex’s fundamental plans. A list of farmers who were unpopular with their labourers had been drawn up as primary targets. Popular farmers were also identified so that they might be left alone, at least for the time being.
His plan was to attack Marc de Borchgrave’s Altena Farm then stand off to see how the security forces would react. There was no special planning for the attack itself. During the approach to the homestead, the telephone line was cut and a landmine was laid in the roadway. A close-in recce of the house was made before Nhongo and his men stood back and emptied two magazines apiece from their AK-47 assault rifles through windows and doors. The group then ran off into the night, whereupon Rex found himself separated and alone.
In the de Borchgrave home the children were sobbing with fear and Marc was perplexed by his family’s isolation with no telephone or any other means to alert police and neighbours. His one little girl of seven was hurt but fortunately not too seriously. Fearing there might be another attack or that an ambush had been laid for his vehicle, Marc waited with his family for some time before setting off across country on foot to get help. The possibility of a landmine in the roadway had not crossed his mind.
Seeing military activity developing around him at first light Rex Nhongo, having first hidden his outer set of clothing, weapon and other paraphernalia, commandeered a bicycle from a youth. He was stopped by police and questioned. He claimed he had neither seen any armed men nor heard any firing. Presenting his
Many, many terrorists were to escape capture in this manner. From the earliest days of Op Hurricane, which was established the morning after Altena Farm was attacked, terrorists wore more than one set of clothing
