by Al Venter
The result was that without the homing beacon, the aircraft were unable to find the DZ and the planes were told to return to Ondangua. This was a critical setback to the plan, with the attack obviously compromised. Shortly afterwards, Rutter confirmed a sudden intensity of activity within the camp: SWAPO was pulling out.
At that point, time became the most critical issue. The loss of the parachute battalion stopper group to the north of the camp meant that the escape route was open to the insurgents. Meanwhile, the Pumas had arrived at Ongiva and were tasked to return to Ondangua to uplift and ferry the original group of Parabats to the target. This meant that the whole operation would have to be further delayed by hours and would no longer be a first light attack as originally planned. It was mayhem.
The Alouette gunships, led by me in the command-and-control trooper, took off from Ongiva for the mini-HAG not long afterwards. We put down just before eight o’clock and headed for the command Ratel. The atmosphere was fairly relaxed because nobody seemed to have a clue what was going on, so we decided to brew some coffee.
We hadn’t quite settled down, and were still swapping stories with the ‘Browns’, when we heard a peculiar whistling noise followed immediately afterwards by a loud explosion about 800 metres west of us. It was now our turn for a little intense activity. In their wisdom, some bright sparks in the army had established their headquarters and our mini-HAG within comfortable range of the Angolan Army D-70 artillery guns at Cuvelai. Our entire camp was packed-up and deserted within ten minutes.
The new HAG was moved a few kilometres to the east, towards the edge of the Cuvelai River and it wasn’t long before it was operational again. Meanwhile, the Puma helicopters had returned with their Parabat component and the deployment started once more; we were going to hit the artillery base that had lambasted us earlier.
Captain Harry Anderson and his wingman, Lieutenant Mike Kohler, were tasked to give top cover to the Puma drops around the enemy camp. During this deployment, Anderson detected a Soviet-built Gaz truck secreted under some trees and moved his gunship closer. As he did so, the driver decided to scurry off and try to outrun the pursuing helicopter. His flight engineer, Jock van der Westhuizen, killed both the driver and passenger with a single salvo.
What could have been a significant setback to PLAN forces, turned out to be a missed opportunity for the South African Army. The destruction of a major insurgent command post would have successfully put a stop to any joint SWAPO and FAPLA plans to retake either Ongiva or the riverside city of Xangongo, both then under South African control. For the loss of one 32 Battalion soldier, from Lt van Staden’s Company, SWAPO lost two vehicles and five men. The rest of the SWAPO fighters disappeared into the bush. At the end of it, South African forces pulled back behind their own lines and started preparations for another cross-border onslaught, of which there were scores during the course of the conflict.
The Soviets issued the Angolans and the guerrillas with scores of SAM-7 (Strela) hand-held, supersonic anti-aircraft missiles. Also known as MANPADS, these weapons were extensively deployed against the SAAF, but they were never instrumental in bringing down a single helicopter, essentially because the South Africans tended to hug the ground when operating against what was accepted as a resilient and aggressive enemy. Author’s photo
Thereafter, a lot of effort was spent preparing for an assault on SWAPO’s ‘A’ Battalion, one of the most active enemy units in the region. Air reconnaissance had confirmed the site of their camp and the decision was made to carry out an attack without deploying the usual reconnaissance teams.
The base was situated on the edge of what locals called a chana, a huge open area that resembled a dry swamp, alongside the Jamba River which seemed ideal for a heliborne assault operation. It was estimated that there were about 200 enemy soldiers and, going by aerial photos, there was at least one clearly visible anti-aircraft position to the north of the camp. Intelligence specialists said the anti-aircraft gun was a Soviet ZSU-23 twin-barrelled, optically guided weapon, which concerned us. These guns had already been used to good effect in other wars, Beirut included, and a single hit could knock one of our Alouettes out of the sky.
From a close examination of the aerial photos of the camp, I felt that there was more than one gun and that they were not ZSUs. I suggested that they were actually single-barrelled ZPU-14.5s. However, either could be deadly against all types of aircraft, helicopters especially, and if they were not neutralised in the earlier stages of the battle, the weapons could prove to be decisive in the outcome of any battle that might develop. The secondary role of the guns would obviously be to fire on our advancing infantry, and experience had shown often enough that the effect could be deadly.
The region was sandy and few of the trees were mature enough to provide much protection, especially against our advancing ground forces coming across open areas to the north and east of the camp. The most obvious enemy escape routes were to the west and south of the camp.
The initial plan, drawn up by Pieterse and his staff, was to kick off with a bombing strike by Mirage F1s. Half the squadron would be tasked to attack the anti-aircraft sites, with the rest focussing their bombs on the camp area. There would also be two F1s on standby for close air support, should that be necessary. Immediately after the bombing run, the main assault group, consisting of Eric Rabie’s company, would be choppered in by Pumas and move into a position on the far side of the open chana, directly opposite the camp. Additionally, stopper groups would be deployed to the west and south of the camp, also using the Pumas. Our gunships would play a critical role as stopper groups, at least until all antiaircraft firepower had been neutralised. We would then move across the camp to give support to the men working the sweeplines and stopper groups.
My initial gut reaction was to disagree with the overall concept of the plan. For a start, I reasoned, Rabie would have some serious problems on his hands if the Mirages didn’t knock out all the antiaircraft guns. If they failed, the guns would almost certainly be redirected either at us or at our ground forces. My view was that we should place the assault group to the west of the camp, where ground cover was thicker, so that advancing troops would not then be threatened by the anti-aircraft guns while moving ahead.
CHAPTER SIX
DEATH OF A GOOD MAN
The following day was perfect for making war. There were no clouds in the sky and no wind. This was a good omen as the strike aircraft should have no difficulty in finding the target, and without any other distractions, our Alouettes could maintain a perfect orbit. The bush fire hazard to those on the ground would also be reduced: Africa always burns furiously during and after a battle because of the tracers used in modern wars.
In the pre-strike briefing, we discovered an amendment to the original plan. A pair of Impala jets loaded with napalm would drop their ordinance approximately four kilometres to the west of the camp at the same time as the main bombing strike. The rationale was that the camp inhabitants would see and hear the napalm tanks explode and this, together with the subsequent firestorm, would send them all off in the opposite direction.
At first I thought this was a joke and I said so. Whoever had come up with the idea obviously knew very little about who we were up against. However, the napalm drop stood and, I felt, it reflected not only inexperience on the part of some of our commanders but a misunderstanding of the nature of the war. I pointed out that anybody on the ground in that kind of bush country would be able to see very little beyond a few hundred metres. Also, all they would hear from the napalm drop would be a faraway explosion which could just as easily be a landmine, yet someone believed the enemy would observe the strikes from four kilometres away!
The commander of Sector 10, Brigadier ‘Witkop’ (white head) Badenhorst ended up agreeing with me and said that he was going in with us. He would fly in my command-and-control helicopter because he felt he needed first-hand information about the battle. He talked of ‘future reference’. Commandant Pieterse
would normally have accompanied me in the Alouette and monitor his ground forces from there. He was obviously unhappy with the decision, especially when I told him that the fuel on board would allow for only one passenger. With his immediate commander on the chopper, he would have been superfluous anyway.
At 10h30, we strolled out to the flight-line for our pre-flight inspections. All six gunships and my command-and-control chopper fired up satisfactorily for the lift-off 20 minutes later. Flying time to the target was 16 minutes: we were coordinated to arrive five minutes after the bombing strike. Just before the jets went in, I made contact with the crew of the Mirages and they said the strike time would be delayed by three minutes. This suited me as we would arrive over target while there was still a lot of confusion in the enemy camp following the bombing raid.
Colonel Dick Lord was in the lead Mirage and on the radio I heard him calling the roll-in—soon afterwards the first bombs exploded. From where the brigadier and I were flying, it was an awesome spectacle. Also, listening to the running commentary, I gathered there had been no anti-aircraft fire. Moments later I heard another voice over the radio shouting, ‘Going underneath!’ The next moment an Impala fighter passed right below me, almost like a flash, followed by the distinctive roar of a jet engine which rocked our helicopter. It was close. I’d been hovering about 150ft above the trees and there couldn’t have been much room between me and the Imps, then heading home after dropping their napalm tanks.
Our contribution started in earnest as I approached the camp from the south-west. We were abeam of the target when the familiar typing pool noise began and tracers began to flash past our nose. As leader of the formation, and with Brigadier Badenhorst sitting next to me, I fought the temptation to remain and, instead, climbed in order to determine what types of weapons were being used against us. It was then I realised that ‘incoming’ was not just small arms fire but also coming from some big stuff—12.7mms and 14.5mms. I banked hard and searched desperately for the antiaircraft site. Moments later I picked up one of the guns. It was quite easy to see as, out of a small cloud of dust kicked up by backblast, there protruded a series of pink flames about two-metres long, the distinctive ZPU 14.5mm auto-cannon signature.
By this time our formation had split to fly to our pre-planned orbits, with Pete Welman and his wingman west of the target and Mike Hill and his wingman to the east. Anderson was supposed to cover the south, but I told him to stay with me as I didn’t fancy attacking a 14.5mm gun-site with just my .303 machine gun. I also felt that with the huge volume of fire heading in our direction, it would be nice to even the odds a little. That was when I called Mission 262, our Mirage close air support pair, to do another strike on the gun position.
This time, the Mirages used their rockets against the enemy position and Anderson and I tightened our orbit to put us in a more favourable firing position. We were greeted by an amazing sight. As the jets moved away and we started moving towards the anti-aircraft position, the enemy gunners, almost like ants, swarmed out of their bunkers and again took up their positions on the guns. I understood perfectly what they were up to. The gunners would have seen the Mirages put their noses down, ready to attack with rockets, and ducked into nearby bunkers for cover. Once the rockets had detonated, they emerged from underground to man their guns again.
By then, we were one of a handful of targets over the camp and it seemed as if everybody on the ground was shooting at us: the volume of small arms fire, including dozens of RPGs, suddenly became very intense. For identification by our own forces, I had the usual illuminated panel stuck on my tail boom and, because of the volume of fire, I thought they might all be aiming at that. However, Anderson came on just then and said that he was also picking up a lot of flak.
Within moments, the battle had developed into a duel between helicopters and anti-aircraft guns, with the two Mirages returning several times in strike after strike until all ammunition was expended. The two jets actually broke all the rules in trying to silence the guns. At one stage, in a bid to improve their accuracy, their approach was so low that I was a little concerned they might collide with us in our orbit. Fortunately, they managed to destroy one of the larger gun installations before they were done
I was aware then that it would take another hour or more for the Mirages to refuel, rearm and return, so it was now up to us to knock out the two or three other installations. Also, until were we successful, Rabie and his men on the ground could not be deployed effectively, which was essential for the operation to succeed.
Anderson and his wingman did a magnificent job. They hung in above one of the gun positions and gave just about all they had back to the enemy, killing many of them in the process. It was intimidating to watch it all take place from so close. Elongated tongues of flame would reach into the air when the enemy fired at us and dozens of RPG-7s exploded all around. At that point I became concerned that we might lose a chopper and crew, which was when I ordered two of the other gunships to lend a hand. Anderson came on the radio moments later: ‘They’re gapping it now’, he shouted. ‘They’re running, ah fuck … taking the gap!’ There was relief in his voice when he shouted that the enemy was on the run. Anderson was decorated for bravery after the action.
As soon as all anti-aircraft guns had been silenced, I called in the Pumas that were transporting Rabie’s company, and they were deployed. It wasn’t all that simple. Rabie’s right and centre flanks ended up in some heavy firefights with enemy troops who had taken shelter in surrounding bunkers with entrances that were often concealed in the undergrowth. However, his unit did manage to cross open ground with only one casualty; an African soldier who took a light gunshot wound.
The Pumas returned soon enough with their airborne detachments, which were deployed into pre-planned positions towards the west. Meanwhile, a number of the guerrillas had begun to break out in that direction, and for a while I was concerned for the safety of the Pumas as the enemy, still potent in their desperate flight, had progressed almost to within sight of the LZ. In fact, once Swart and his paratroopers had deployed and formed up in a sweep-line, they immediately made contact with escaping SWAPO, and still more battles developed.
Once the enemy realised there was a stopper group in position towards the west they decided to veer northwards instead. However, that took them across a chana and open ground. Welman and his wingman flew their gunships there and quickly dealt with them.
Conditions on the ground deteriorated swiftly. An easterly wind had sprung up and fanned a succession of bush fires ignited by our bombs and tracers. The result was that Rabie and his troops were threatened from two directions—he had a raging veld fire, with flames reaching up to 10 metres or more, at his rear and a substantial guerrilla force ahead. The enemy might have been on the run, but they attacked just about everything in their path, Rabie’s men included
In a sense, it was a perfect situation to control as there was no need to urge the troops to advance. The encroaching fire took care of that option. SWAPO troops, in turn, were aware by now that they wouldn’t be able to escape towards the west and had started to put up a fierce resistance. Because of this, Rabie’s momentum had been halted and some of his troops were burnt by the encroaching flames. In fact, by the time the fire had passed through both Rabie’s and SWAPO lines and moved towards where the Parabats were operating, quite a few troops had virtually no uniform left intact as they had literally been burnt off their bodies and some of the men were left with serious burns. One section of the sweep-line had to turn tail and make a run for it to escape the flames.
Conditions had also deteriorated for the helicopter gunships. Smoke had enveloped the entire area and was so dense in places that the choppers were flying in IFR conditions. There were several near misses. At the same time, it was almost impossible to spot enemy troops on the ground, with the result that close air support couldn’t happen and any kind of effective control of our sweep-lines became almost hopeless. SWAPO made good use of this mayhem an
d brought our circling choppers under intense fire.
Once the inferno had passed, the battle started again. By now, the two sweep-lines were working in close proximity but, in turn, giving each other even more problems. The men pushing forward were partially disorientated by what was going on around them— they were coming under enemy fire and there were more brush fires—and there was also some confusion along the lines because they were stymied by poor visibility. In fact, things became so bad at one stage that one of the officers trying to control the situation on the ground believed that there was a real danger of friendly fire casualties, especially since the encroaching lines were only about 30 metres apart. The problem was further compounded by the bush which, even after the fire had burnt away most of the undergrowth, was too thick for either of the two units to actually see each other; erratic radio communications did not help.
At one stage 32 Battalion’s sweep-line believed they were under fire, which they were, as most of the Parabat rounds were ricocheting right past them and forcing the men to go to ground. A hasty tirade from Rabie over the radio on the open net put an end to that bit of mischief. Once that phase of the battle was over, all that remained was to sweep through the enemy camp and collect weapons and ammunition, destroy food and water supplies and collect documents that might be useful to the intelligence boffins.
During the troop uplift that followed, the seven Pumas, led by Captain Cor Greef, landed on open ground near the camp, with Anderson overhead providing top cover. Just as the Pumas took off, Anderson happened to see a small bunch of enemy troops lying partially hidden beneath one of the trees, their AKs trained on the lead Puma only 50 metres away. He shot them before they were able to do any damage, but said afterwards that had they actually opened fire at such short range they would almost certainly have caused serious damage.