by Ian Smith
The next morning, 9 April, brought a visit from one of the senior and most respected pilots of the police air wing, to tell me they were all deeply concerned at the lack of positive thinking and leadership from the security chiefs, leading to the prevailing air of pessimism. To say that feelings were strong was putting it mildly. They now referred to the current depressing feeling as ‘Comops’! I asked him to use his influence to attempt to get our people to stand their ground, in spite of personality problems, as this would best serve the national interest, and thus the interests of everyone.
This was followed by an interesting discussion with McLaren, who came to inform me the next day that he had handed in his resignation, not only because of his belief that Comops had served its purpose but, into the bargain, was completely discredited. He wished to disassociate himself from the duplicity associated with Comops and the resultant total contempt in which it was held by every serviceman. McLaren revealed that when details of the Lancaster House agreement were made available to our Nat JOC it had caused great concern, indeed alarm, until Walls had returned from London and assured them that the British were on the same network and working in total collusion with us. Under no circumstances, Walls had declared, would Mugabe be allowed even to get to the starting post — both Margaret Thatcher and Carrington had assured him on that point. Moreover, in the run-up to the election he had consistently reported that Soames was in agreement with the plan to disqualify Mugabe’s ZANU(PF) in certain provinces, but when the time came, Walls was found to be wanting, and all his supporters were left hanging in mid-air. No wonder that at this moment he was the most discredited man in the country.
Don Hollingsworth, a police weapons expert and one of our great Bisley shots who has represented Rhodesia on many occasions, kindly dropped in to look at a couple of my antique guns. He could not get over the election — the biggest confidence trick ever pulled. I informed him that up to the day before the election results came out I had been assured by our Comops that Mugabe could not win, so who was the true culprit? His response was that they had all been given the same message. He felt that ‘Feelings are so strong that it’s surprising they [Comops] are still alive and walking around!’
I received a message that day, 10 April, asking me to see the new Prime Minister, so after lunch I walked into my old office in Milton Building, received a courteous reception and was accompanied upstairs by his secretary. We discussed the settling-in process and the tremendous pressure of work. I said I believed that once the initial period was over the pressure would gradually slacken, with cabinet ministers who were new to the game taking time to slot into their positions. As always, there would be a long line of opportunists attempting to climb on the bandwagon, and one should be on guard against accommodating impostors. I then turned to some matters deserving of his attention. The wonderful development in our Lowveld centred on the sugar industry, which for some time had indicated growing concern over insufficient water supplies. The record had proved that the Kyle Dam catchment area was inadequate. It was clear that the proposed dam on the Tokwe River would solve the problem and, in addition, provide for extended development. Had finance been available we would have commenced the scheme. Next was my concern over reports that his ZANLA troops, under the influence of alcohol and with guns over their shoulders, were provoking hostility in certain farming areas. This could lead to someone getting killed, I warned. He expressed concern and undertook to give it his immediate attention. My third point was that it appeared to me that Comops had served its purpose and could be wound down. Into the bargain it could be a good political move. Mugabe was clearly interested and said that Walls had complained to him that he had never been given the necessary elevation in rank to do his job properly, and hoped that this would be attended to. I replied that this was an old chestnut and, on all the evidence given to me, it would clearly compound problems. I then informed him of my decision to be out of the country for the independence celebration, as I believed this would be the tactful thing to do. He replied that he could not see any problem, but the decision was a personal one for me. My intention was to maintain a low profile, co-operate with the new government, but maintain a balance and where necessary produce constructive criticism, otherwise the white people would think I had emigrated — he laughed and said: ‘Bought a farm in South Africa and moved your cattle there!’ My main function was to boost white morale, and to encourage them to stay and contribute. He agreed completely.
I took my leave, stressing that I had spoken frankly, and that he would find that, although we might not always agree, there would never be any doubt in his mind as to where I stood. He expressed his appreciation for my giving him the benefit of my views and, importantly, letting him know what our white people were thinking. He hoped we would continue the communication.
It seemed clear that the situation had progressed to a stage where any thought of declaring the election null and void, and removing Mugabe and his government from office, was now a pipe-dream. Many responsible, clear-thinking people, however, were still living in hope for some plan which would restore honesty and legal constitutionality to our country. There was still much open talk of British treachery and betrayal. I had made it clear that any unco-ordinated action, not directed at restoring legality and without the support of Comops, would not receive my blessing. There was no doubt in my mind that, if anything happened, fingers would be pointed in my direction. So for a number of reasons, I felt the sooner I got out of the country the better. Janet and I departed for the South African coast in the hope that at least some of our anxieties would be left behind.
22
The Aftermath of the Election
We returned to the new Zimbabwe; that the old Rhodesia had gone was driven home by the opening of Parliament on the morning of 15 May 1980. It was carried out with the usual pomp and dignity. The only difference for me was that as we entered the chamber, Mugabe was on the side occupied by the Prime Minister while I walked at the head of the column as leader of the opposition.
I had an interview with Mugabe that afternoon and informed him of my concern that on my return from South Africa I had detected a definite drop in white morale, occasioned by wild statements from certain of his ministers. For example, one of his colleagues had stated that government was giving consideration to the elimination of the twenty white seats in Parliament. He replied that, unfortunately, some people occasionally had a rush of blood to the head and made irrational statements. He assured me that government had no such intention. In fact, the President’s speech that morning made it clear that there was no plan to interfere with the constitution. I then turned to the deteriorating situation of general lawlessness and the marked increase in stock-theft, with the accompanying danger of people taking the law into their own hands. He made notes and undertook to investigate. Next I turned to the disintegration of our security forces and the adverse effect this was having on white confidence. He conceded that the Selous Scouts would have to go, for political reasons, but that there was no plan for any action with the other regiments. I impressed on him that the whites were professional soldiers, and as such would be his most loyal troops — I hoped he realised that he lived in Africa, and was aware of the record of Africa in this regard. He smiled and said, ‘Yes, they have had a few coups recently!’ Moreover, I assured him that if he continued with his policy of reconciliation, and support for the free enterprise system, the white population would give him their political support. He expressed his gratitude.
Finally, I informed him of my recent discussion with P.W. Botha, who was pleased to hear my positive attitude and belief that things could turn out better than we had originally thought — at least there seemed to be some hope. I was satisfied that the South Africans had made up their minds that they would have to live with the decision that had been made, and as long as our government behaved responsibly there would be reciprocity from their side. So all around it did seem to me that Zimbabwe had much going its way and that we were
heading for fair weather, but it did depend on a firm, responsible hand on the rudder.
On the evening of 22 May 1980, I visited the RLI (the Rhodesian Light Infantry) briefly to pay my respects to the corporals’ mess, and then on to the sergeants’ mess, with a number of officers present, for what was termed a massive ‘prayer meeting’. I had a tremendous reception and it was an emotionally charged occasion, because there did not seem to be much doubt that this was a kind of farewell visit from me. They gave me a full voiced rendering of ‘The Saints’ — their regimental song — and it is difficult to explain adequately the ‘welling-up’ sensation that one experiences on such an occasion. There was a clear message that they would be prepared to follow me, if need be, to the end of the earth, but they would not permit mention of the security chiefs. Although there was deep concern about the impending scene, the majority were willing to give it a fair trial, in the belief that this was the best way to serve their country, and I encouraged them in this line of thinking. Tough and merciless in their profession as soldiers, they nevertheless displayed great maturity and sound logic when assessing the problems which confronted them. It was a combination of these qualities which made the Rhodesian army one of the most efficient in the world — they were always resolute and competent in performing their task.
I was up at 5 a.m. on 23 May to fly down to the Lowveld. There, I spent a happy day, stimulated by the people and that glorious country where everything grows so magnificently. I returned in time for a quick change before attending the final SAS dining-in night. Apart from the regular officers, there were only three others: Hilary Squires, who had been their highly regarded Minister of Defence during the latter part of my government; Jack Malloch, who had been one of our principal sanctions busters with his local airline and who had carried out more SAS paradrops over enemy territory than any other pilot; and myself. As with the previous night’s function with the RLI, it was a moving occasion, all the more so because the regiment was breaking up the following week, one-half going to South Africa and the other half remaining in the hope that they would be able to make a contribution. The feeling against their security chiefs was overwhelming: ‘They betrayed us, and know that they dare not set foot in this place.’ Their CO presented me with their regimental plaque and SAS tie, saying that to his knowledge it was the first time this had been done to a non-member of the SAS. He vowed: ‘We will go all the way with you, but not those other blokes, our so-called leaders.’
On 26 May, Jack Malloch dropped in during the evening, and we covered a lot of ground, from the Spitfire he was restoring, to world politics. He had received attractive offers to take his services to other parts of the world, but he was too dedicated a Rhodesian to desert the ship.
I saw Mugabe again on Wednesday morning, 28 May, to compliment him on his press interview the previous Saturday, when he had corrected a number of mis-statements made by some of his ministers. While this was obviously of assistance, the original damage could never be entirely remedied, I said. He hoped we were getting to the end of wild statements from ministers. I then mentioned the community schools, which we were told had been accepted in principle, but there seemed to be some hold-up. He claimed this was news to him, and that he would ask for details. I stressed the point that the concept behind the plan was to preserve high standards of education, and not racial privilege, and that this was something which should be constantly monitored. Moreover, education was one of the largest items in the government budget, and the parents at these schools were happy to make a siseable contribution towards their children’s education, thus relieving the burden on the fiscus.
The next problem was rugby — he laughed and said: ‘We all know you are a rugby fan.’ The game against the visiting British Lions in Salisbury was being threatened because, first, the South Africans were guilty of apartheid, and second, because the British had defied the Gleneagles agreement (which banned sporting links with South Africa) and were touring South Africa. Because of these so-called crimes, Zimbabwe, the innocent party, was to be penalised. He conceded the justification of my case, but said he had been under great pressure, with a phone call from the head of OAU, and also from the local British representative. I suggested a possible solution, with a plan for some French players to meet the returning Lions at Nairobi, and then an informal combination team to visit us. He assured me that he would try to help.
I made no apology for returning to the question of security. His greatest strength in the fields of law and order and constitutional integrity rested on professionals who through training, tradition, ingrained integrity and loyalty would not allow themselves to be corrupted. In all fairness, his black troops had not reached such a position, and he was well aware of the tribal divisions in our country with the resultant pressure groups. If one looked to our north, in those countries where the previous metropolitan power had been retained in a security role, there had never been a coup, but where local security troops had taken over there was a marked reversal of this trend! The fact that he was attempting to implement the proclaimed policy of reconciliation, with its accompanying balance and fairness to all parties, would be provocative to those who were anticipating the reward of favoured treatment, and I hoped he would mark the words of one who spoke from experience. He was obviously thinking deeply, and replied that he hoped the right information was coming through to him, but that he wished to express his gratitude for the concern which I was showing, and he would certainly give my thoughts serious consideration.
Once again I pondered to myself over the man’s maturity, reasonableness and sense of fair play. Was I about to find myself in a situation where our erstwhile friends and allies, the British and South Africans, had treacherously deceived and betrayed us, while our deadly enemy of recent years was going to prove himself an honest and trusted person working in the mutual best interests of our country?
I had another talk with Mugabe in Parliament on the afternoon of 3 June. He apologised for having done nothing over the community schools, but assured me he would get to it within the next few days. The continuing trend of attacks and insults hurled at the white community was in total conflict with his proclaimed policy of reconciliation and was having an adverse effect on morale and further aggravating emigration. He expressed complete support for my sentiments, deplored what was taking place and assured me that he was interviewing the ministers concerned the next day and would deal with the problem then. I then mentioned that one of the local Lonrho chiefs had approached me, saying that Tiny Rowland was eager to reinvolve himself in local affairs, but was concerned that he might be persona non grata with Mugabe. He quipped: ‘Wasn’t it the same with you?’ And we laughed. I commented that when I had been in his position, the national interest had taken precedence over personalities, and that I was sure the same applied to him. For that reason I said I had agreed that Rowland should arrange those meetings with Kaunda and Nkomo. I believed his international connections could be of benefit to Zimbabwe. He replied that if Rowland had interests in this country, then of course he should be entitled to attend to them. There was the important question of the Beira — Umtali oil pipeline and he had heard that there were problems associated with getting it back into operation — anything I could do to assist would be appreciated. So please inform Rowland, Mugabe said, that he was welcome to return and get on with things. Again he showed remarkable maturity and no sign of bitterness.
On 12 June David Smith came for a consultation before his departure for Europe. He said that there were big problems and many pressures within cabinet, but Mugabe and the majority of his ministers, including Nkomo and the other four Matabeles, were balanced and responsible. But there were a number of wild men who never lost an opportunity to provoke, and they needed constant watching. The position with the South African government was not good. On his recent visit they had given him a tough time, especially P.W. Botha, who had thumped the table and threatened him. I asked him if he had reminded them that we had complied with their e
very request at and after Lancaster House, and how, given this, had they any justification for complaining? ‘Well,’ he replied, ‘you know better than any of us that they believe they have the answer to every problem in Africa, and when it doesn’t work it’s always the other person’s fault.’ A couple of them had been most helpful — van der Merwe and Jansen — and suggested to David that he try the tactic of getting South African leaders of commerce and industry on his side and use them to influence the two Bothas.
‘What about the British,’ I asked, ‘are they doing anything meaningful?’ David Smith replied that they had made a lot of promises. ‘But it remains to be seen if their words are backed up by deeds. As long as it is not too great an effort, they will try, but in truth they are more concerned with their own problems.’
I found his comments refreshingly frank, especially in view of the fact that he had worked so closely with both the British and South Africans to bring about the present situation. I sensed a growing cynicism on his part — maybe, after all, things were not going the way he thought they would.
The South Africans were learning from experience, and because they knew so little about the psychology of their black counterparts, they were learning the hard way. When I had warned Vorster of the fallacy in his détente policy, he had replied that I was out of touch with the world around me. History has proved that he was wrong. When I told Pik Botha in London during our Lancaster House conference that by supporting Carrington’s plan, they were playing into Mugabe’s hands, he told me that was not in keeping with their assessment. History proved that he was wrong. One hoped that they were making a more realistic assessment of the South West Africa problem. And even more important, that they were beginning to take a realistic look at their own situation, and how they intended to deal with that. Because, as I had warned them on a number of occasions, it was going to arrive on their doorstep sooner than they anticipated, and they would not be able to pass the buck on that one.