Winds of Destruction: The Autobiography of a Rhodesian Combat Pilot

by Peter Petter-Bowyer

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 Lourenço 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 chimurenga pseudonym) and his men had lived in relative luxury, sometimes in caves, enjoying all the free food, beer and women, provided for ‘the boys in the bush’ by willing locals.

  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 situpa (identification document) that gave his name as Solomon Mutuswa, he was allowed to go on his way.

  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 for two basic reasons. Firstly, an armed guerrilla is better off without telltale rucksacks to carry changes of clothing and, secondly, identity of dress could be switched by exchanging inner with outer clothing or simply removing and hiding the outer clothing. Pseudonyms were discarded for real names and authentic situpas were presented.

  The de Borchgrave family moved in with friends whilst Altena Farm was thoroughly checked over. They were unlucky enough still to be at Whistlefield Farm when another of Rex Nhongo’s groups attacked it two nights later. Rex told me eight years later that this attack had also been made to study security-force reactions.

  On this occasion, Marc de Borchgrave and another of his daughters were injured, but again not too seriously. Unfortunately, however, Corporal N. Moore of the RLI died when the Army vehicle in which he was travelling to Whistlefield Farm detonated a landmine on the approach road to the farmstead. This occurred in spite of the fact that, during the follow-up at Altena Farm, the landmine planted by Rex Nhongo had been found and lifted.

  At this time the SAS had been withdrawn from operations over the border in Mozambique to assist JOC Hurricane, which based itself at the Centenary Airfield. Rex Nhongo’s plans to draw forces from the east had worked, just as he hoped.

  SAS trackers accompanying the RLI on the Whistlefield call-out were lucky because they had climbed off the truck to commence a search for tracks just before the vehicle hit the landmine. These same trackers, now angered by the mine incident, picked up the trail of the terrorist group and started after them. They tracked all day until darkness fell. Unknown to them, they slept very close to where the terrorists had stopped to rest. They only found this out when they came upon ZANLA’s campfire soon after tracking recommenced at dawn.

  Major Brian Robinson, who had recently taken command of the SAS, was at Centenary. He decided to deploy another SAS callsign by helicopter as a cut-off force ahead of the tracker group. The position he chose was spot-on and resulted in the death of three terrorists and the capture of two others in the first military contact of Op Hurricane. The RLI were especially pleased by this success against the group that had laid the mine that killed one of their men and injured others.

  Countering landmines

  EVEN BEFORE THE COMMENCEMENT OF Op Hurricane, landmines had become a serious menace, playing havoc with vehicles and causing serious injuries and loss of life. On 27 April 1971 Lance Corporal Moorcroft and Trooper Meyer were killed in a single mining incident. Two months prior to Op Hurricane, Sergeant Hill died in another landmine detonation.

  Efforts to counter the threat were redoubled and many satisfactory though crude solutions were found. First efforts revolved around correct sandbagging of floors and filling tyres with measured quantities of water. Within eighteen months hideous-looking vehicles started making their appearance and, insofar as military vehicles were concerned, landmines ceased to be the dangerous weapon of early times. Rhodesia and South Africa worked t
ogether to become world leaders in countermine warfare. This was achieved with specially designed mine—defecting modules affixed to standard truck and Land Rover chassis.

  Loss of life and injuries to military and paramilitary personnel was almost completely eliminated and most vehicles that struck landmines could be returned to service at relatively low cost. When death or injury did occur, it was usually through failure of passengers to observe correct seating and securing procedures. Hapless civilians were not so fortunate; hundreds were killed or severely maimed when unprotected buses and cars detonated mines that had been laid without concern for civilian traffic.

  There was always a worry that airfields would be mined because there was no way of protecting aircraft from catastrophe if one detonated a mine. Why the terrorists did not capitalise on this one cannot say, yet I only recall two landmines laid for aircraft. One was planted in the aircraft parking area of a remote airfield but was detected and lifted. The other occurred on 19 February 1979 when Byrne Gardener, an Internal Affairs pilot, died when his aircraft activated a land mine on the Mrewa Airfield.

  Because landmines planted by well-trained individuals are impossible to detect visually, many electronic devices were developed as substitutes to the slow and laborious ground prodding method. One electronic system was borne by a vehicle known as the ‘Pookie’ (nickname for a Night ape). Its purpose was to act as lead vehicle to detect mines ahead of vehicles travelling in convoys.

  The Pookie was a light vehicle based on the Volkswagen Beetle chassis, riding on four very wide, low-pressure tyres. It was fitted with a single-seat mine-proof module for the driver who monitored signals coming to him from a wide mine-sensing unit mounted crosswise to the module base. This vehicle, which looked as if it had come from outer space, could pass over a mine without detonating it. But because the detector response rate was slow, and the need to stop quickly to prevent following vehicles reaching a detected mine, Pookies could only travel at about 40 kph (25 mph). These vehicles came into Rhodesia’s bush war in small numbers and only served to give convoy protection along the highest-risk routes. In consequence, most convoys continued as before.

  One such convoy was travelling along a typical TTL dirt road with gunners standing in their vehicle cabs manning machine-guns mounted on a ring affixed to a hole in the cab roof. From their elevated position they had a good vantage point from which to search for threats on roadway and surrounding bush. They passed a couple of young children who, as the lead vehicle went past, stuck their fingers in their ears and distorted their faces in obvious expectation of a big bang. The lead gunner slammed the top of the cab with his hand to signal the driver to brake hard. It only took a minute of prodding to find the landmine lying just two metres from the front right wheel. The kids had disappeared, probably disappointed, but they had given the best mine warning any soldier could hope for.

  Centenary days

  WHEN JOC HURRICANE WAS ESTABLISHED, I sent Rob Tasker with three pilots, four technicians, two Provosts and two Trojans to join four helicopters at Centenary Airfield. This airfield, initially with grass runway, became FAF 3 under command of Squadron Leader Peter Cooke who did such a fine job that he remained there for many months.

  When operations in the northeast spread eastwards from Centenary, JOC Hurricane, the senior controlling body, moved to Bindura and the regional Sub-JOCs adopted the name of the place at which they were based. This gave rise to Sub-JOCs Centenary, Mount Darwin and Mtoko. The associated Air Force bases were FAFs 3, 4 and 5 respectively.

  Back at Thornhill I had lost Gordon Wright on posting to Hunters. Rob Tasker became ‘A’ flight Commander and Bruce Collocott ‘B’ Flight Commander. Since Rob and I were the only instructors on 4 Squadron and Rob had done little time on ops, I decided that I should remain at base to complete Greg Todd’s conversion and handle general squadron matters. In particular, I needed to run Bruce Collocott through his new management responsibilities.

  Peter Cooke (centre) with President Clifford Dupont and Air Marshal Mick McLaren. Loading a .303 ammunition belt to the starboard wing gun of a Provost are Sergeants ‘Flamo’ Flemming and Chris Nienham.

  This photograph is of FAF 5 at Mtoko.

  Flight Commanders Bruce

  Collocott, Rob Tasker and

  Gordon Wright.

  For a while activities in the northeast were limited to follow-up operations on increasing numbers of farm attacks, sightings and reports, but physical contacts with elusive terrorists were limited. Having secured the support of the locals, ZANLA groups were operating so much more effectively than in previous times and for very little effort they were able to tie down hundreds of security force men. 7 Squadron’s helicopters were busy all the time whilst 4 Squadron provided some top cover, made a few airstrikes and conducted casualty evacuation to rear base hospitals.

  Territorial Army and Police protection teams were allocated to farmsteads whilst private companies made a financial killing setting up an inter-farm and Police radio-communication network (Agri-Alert) and erecting security barriers with flood-lights around farmsteads. The farm workers’ compounds were not protected in the same way because it was realised that to do so would bring terrorist retribution on workers’ families living in the TTLs.

  Because of the demand for trackers and follow-up forces, the SAS continued to be used as infantry, which was a terrible waste of their potential. Brian Robinson pressed for his squadron to return to the role for which it was intended and trained. This was to operate in depth inside Mozambique to counter ZANLA’s freedom of movement through Tete Province. He did not have long to wait, though the SAS return to Tete came in an unexpected way.

  On 8 January 1973, three white surveyors and two black assistants were ambushed in their vehicle near the Mavuradona Pass on the road to Mukumbura. Robert Bland and Dennis Sanderson were killed. They were the first whites to die at the hands of terrorists since the Viljoens were murdered at Nevada Farm in May 1966. Gerald Hawksworth and two black assistants were abducted and marched off towards Mozambique.

  Under pressure from the Rhodesian Government, Portuguese approval was given for the SAS to move back into Tete, ostensibly to free Hawksworth and his two black companions. Their operations were initially limited to areas south of the Zambezi River but, having got a foot in the door, the SAS were to continue operating in Mozambique for many months to come. They failed to find the abductees who had already crossed the Zambezi because the SAS were belatedly cleared for the search.

  ZANLA’s direct entries from Zambia into Rhodesia had ceased long before Op Hurricane started, so it came as a shock when Ian Smith closed the border with Zambia on 9 January. He blamed Zambia for allowing ZANLA and ZIPRA free access across the Zambezi to attack white farmers and to abduct civilians. South Africa and Mozambique had received no warning of this unilateral action that threatened their lucrative trade with Zambia. Despite the ideological differences that existed between South Africa and Zambia, Prime Minister Vorster and President Kaunda favoured dialogue with free trade in southern Africa and a situation of détente developed between their two countries. South Africa was incensed by the situation, which if allowed to continue, would mean the loss of over 300 million rands in valued annual exports.

  Ian Smith had been under pressure from South Africa for some days when he received assurance from a Zambian envoy that no terrorists would be allowed to cross the Zambian/ Rhodesian border. This gave him the excuse needed to reverse an obvious political error and the border was declared open on 3 February. Kaunda however refused to reopen it. The economic effects of this emotional decision on South Africa, Mozambique and Rhodesia were enormous; for Zambia they were disastrous. By throwing his toys out of his cot, Kaunda denied his country access to four major seaports in South Africa and Mozambique. He was therefore limited to Dar es Salaam and Luanda, the latter involving enormous distance via unreliable Zaire and war-torn Angola. Neither of these routes was efficient and the implications of Zambia’s self-imposed v
ulnerability introduced new factors into Rhodesian counter-terrorist thinking.

  A week after Kaunda decided to keep the border closed, I was tasked to make a study of the Zambezi River from Kanyemba to Kariba, concentrating mainly on the Zambian bank. This three-day recce task was a welcome break from instruction but, apart from updating maps, nothing suspicious was located. By this time, most callsigns along the river were South African Police units who exhibited the same habits I had seen five years earlier when I was still flying helicopters. They swam naked in the Zambezi River and continued to ignore the crocodiles around them.

  Deaths of Smart and Smithdorff

  HAVING COMPLETED THE BORDER recce I reported to Air HQ. Whilst I was there on 21 February, Flight Lieutenant John Smart and his technician, Tinker Smithdorff, were reported overdue on a flight from Rushinga to a location to the northwest. Why Wing Commander Sandy Mutch was required to oversee a search for the missing helicopter I cannot say, but I was tasked to fly him to Rushinga and remain there to assist him.

  I hardly knew John Smart who had recently joined us from the RAF. On the other hand, Tinker was well known to me. Brother to Mark Smithdorff, Tinker was quiet by nature and very popular with all who knew him. He was also an excellent technician and a good rugby player.

  Tinker Smithdorff.

  Whilst Sandy gathered in aircraft and tasked them for what was expected to be an easy search, I was finding out what had been happening in that area. From the Special Branch and Police I learned that a group of terrorists had been reported moving northward along the Ruya River two days previously. I asked if John Smart knew about this group, to which I received an affirmative reply; so I went to Sandy Mutch and suggested he should include the Ruya River in his search plan. He would have nothing to do with this because the Ruya did not fit in with his now finalised search plan.