Dingo Firestorm (21 page)
‘Everyone including his dog seemed to be there,’ thought Kevin Milligan when he walked into the hangar. ‘Everyone who was anybody, that is. I then saw the huge model on the hangar floor. Then I knew why our Parachute Training School windows had been sealed. This just confirmed my suspicions that this was big – far bigger than anything we had seen before.’
Keith Samler of the Special Branch had different thoughts; he was worried to see so many people at the briefing. His detective instincts warned him that the law of averages meant there was a very strong possibility of a leak.
People occupied their seats or clambered up the rugby grandstands, set out like a theatre. The SAS were surprised to see RLI soldiers, and vice versa. Combined ops between these two units were rare. All eyes were on the large target model on the floor.
What particularly impressed PB about the model was that by being on the floor, it gave the same perspective one would have from the air. There were marked tapes across the target, indicating a simple alphanumeric scale – letters from left to right and numbers from bottom to top. This turned out to be vital, especially before calling in air strikes. The aircrew and ground commanders were given their own photographs of the target with the grid lines clearly marked.
‘Norman Walsh would not give his pilots map references. Instead, he would give them a grid reference from the photograph. Then he could turn away and focus on the next task, confident that the target was about to be zapped,’ PB added.
Walsh had also asked the modellers to superimpose clear, easy-tofollow ‘circuit patterns’, a series of red curved arrows, for the pilots to follow to reduce the chances of mid-air collision.
The buzz from the audience turned to silence as SAS Intelligence Officer Captain Scotty McCormack stepped forward. ‘He stood right in the middle of the target, with no microphone,’ remembers PB, ‘and then walked around inside the target, on the many stretches of open ground, as he explained what the various areas were and what they were called.’
McCormack explained that the massive complex laid out on the floor was a model of New Farm, the military headquarters of ZANLA in Mozambique, the very nerve centre of the organisation. He pointed out that Robert Mugabe, Josiah Tongogara, Rex Nhongo and most of the ZANLA hierarchy spent much time at Chimoio. He pointed to Mugabe’s sleeping quarters on the model for effect. The attack was planned on a day that the ZANLA war council, the Dare reChimurenga, was known to be meeting, presenting an opportunity to decapitate the organisation.
McCormack reminded the audience that although the HQ was a prime objective, the real issue was to attack the vast numbers of trained and semi-trained guerrillas before they could enter Rhodesia.
Flight Lieutenant Mark McLean, who flew a K-car on the op, remembered:
They listed all the friendly forces, the RLI, SAS and aircraft that would be involved, and you could see it was going to be a very big operation. The friendly forces added up to about 200 people. Having done that, they turned to enemy forces, saying that they estimated about 5 000 Charlie Tangos [communist terrorists].
It was the first time in my life that I had heard a tremendous collective gasp, a huge intake of breath by 200 people … everyone was stunned.
Then some wise guy at the back, using the punchline from a wellknown Japanese kamikaze flying joke, shouted in an appropriate accent: ‘Are you fucking mad?’, whereupon everybody burst out laughing loudly, which broke the tension.
After the tension-releasing laughter had died down, McCormack spoke about a constant stream of new arrivals coming in from Tanzania, Ethiopia and China, so there might be a lot more than 5 000, he warned the audience. Up to 8 000 had been estimated from an earlier aerial photograph, which brought another collective gasp from the audience. McCormack described each major target in turn, its function and the numbers of personnel expected to be there. All in all, there were 17 targets, each given an alphabetic letter.
If that weren’t bad enough, McCormack mentioned that in Chimoio Town, there were expected to be large numbers of FRELIMO troops, supplemented by elements of the Tanzanian Army and up to 100 Russian and Cuban advisers. What made the airmen shudder was the mention of Strela heat-seeking missiles, backed up by 12.7-mm and 14.5-mm anti-aircraft weapons. The mention of tanks and armoured cars at Chimoio Town worried the infantrymen.
Second Lieutenant Neill Jackson of the RLI recalls:
We were given an exceptionally professional and clear briefing at New Sarum by SAS Intelligence Officer Captain Scotty McCormack. I remember being stunned by the vast scope of the operation, but drawing much confidence from the coolness and professionalism of the SAS soldiers that I had befriended on a diving course, as we all listened to the briefing and made the relevant notes.
Ever since Mugabe and Tongogara had cracked down on the poor discipline at their HQ, the ZANLA routine was to assemble on the parade square each day at 07:00 for drill and to listen to speeches by commanders and political commissars. This process would usually keep them on the parade square for an hour. The timing of the initial air strike would be built around this ZANLA routine.
After McCormack’s spellbinding presentation, Group Captain Norman Walsh took the floor. Using military terms for the day of the operation (D-day) and the time it would commence (H-hour), he announced: ‘D-day is November 23; H-hour is 07:45 Bravo.’
As it sunk in that the attack would start at 07:45 the next morning, a buzz of adrenalin-fuelled murmurs swept through the hangar – these guys are serious and in a hurry, was the thought running through many heads.
Walsh explained the air-strike sequence. First, a DC-8 cargo jet would fly over the target as a decoy, making as much noise as possible. When the assembled terrs heard the DC-8, they were likely to scatter and dive into the trenches or man the anti-aircraft guns. When they realised it was a false alarm, they would start reassembling on the parade square, by which time Red Section would be about to launch the initial strike. The DC-8 would also mask the sound of the approaching Dakotas and helicopters.
It was unprecedented to use a civilian jetliner at the leading edge of a major air attack. The aircraft in question belonged to Air Trans Africa, a Rhodesian sanction-busting airline operated by a former World War II Spitfire pilot, Jack Malloch. Jack was sitting in the audience. He would not be flying the DC-8 himself; instead, he would fly a propeller-driven DC-7, the aircraft every helicopter pilot would rely on for fuel.
Walsh continued:
At precisely H-hour, Red 1 will strike the HQ building complex here, with Golf [percussion] bombs, while Red 2 will plant Golf bombs here, on target Mike [Chitepo College], and Red 3 will drop frantan here, on Lima [Pasidina 2, a guerrilla convalescence centre]. The weather forecast is good, but if there is cloud, frantan will replace Golf bombs. Red Section’s strikes will be the markers for Green Section, which will strike with Alpha bombs at H plus 30 seconds.
Walsh explained that the Vampire squadron would strike the recruits’ camp nearly seven kilometres to the north-east with rockets and 20-mm cannon, also at H-hour.
As the Canberras of Green Section were releasing their bombs, Walsh wanted the next wave of Hunters, White and Blue Sections, to be already in their dive profiles to attack the four main anti-aircraft-gun emplacements. ‘Gentlemen, timing is crucial,’ warned Walsh, ‘because by now, the six Dakotas of Silver Section will be approaching to drop the troops here and here,’ indicating with his pointer stick the two sides of the ‘box’, or target. ‘The G-cars of Pink Section will drop the helitroops on the lee side of this ridgeline, making up a third side of the box. At H plus five, the 10 K-cars will attack these targets …’ Walsh pointed out six target zones, four of which would be attacked by pairs of K-cars to ensure a constant presence when one ran out of ammo or fuel. He amplified the orbit patterns and warned his pilots of the risks of mid-air collision.
‘Pink Section, once you have dropped the troops at the target, fly directly to the admin base,’ said Walsh, pointing to a mark on a large map, ‘which is 13 nautical miles north on a heading of zero-zero-three degrees magnetic. It should take you nine minutes to get there. Land and refuel; wait for further instructions. However, don’t get in the way of the K-cars – they have refuelling priority.
‘Yellow Section, your task is to fly men and equipment between Lake Alexander and the admin base, as listed on the schedule and as directed by me or the command Dak.’
Walsh emphasised again just how crucial timing was. It had to be down to the precise second. If just one element in the chain erred, the entire operation could be compromised.
‘Gentlemen, there is no room for error. Any questions?’
Major Brian Robinson then strode up, commanding absolute attention as he outlined the plan for the attack troops. By definition, this had to be very detailed, even down to how many water bottles and rations each man should carry. He also reminded the men to write their blood group on their shirt, a necessary instruction, but one that always got the adrenalin going.
Dingo was essentially a Fireforce operation, only 11 times bigger. And besides scale, there was another difference. A typical Fireforce operation worked on a ratio of two enemies to one Rhodesian troopie. With Dingo, the most favourable ratio would be seven enemies to one Rhodesian, but that ratio could rise to 40:1. The odds seemed overwhelming.
Dave Jenkins, the technician tasked to fly with Norman Walsh in the command helicopter, remembered the concern about Rhodesian casualty estimates: ‘If I recall correctly, we were told that losses could be as high as 10 per cent. I might be wrong about the exact percentage, but I remember it was quite high. It was definitely a topic of discussion after the briefing.’
Lieutenant Mark Adams, officer commanding the RLI’s 12 Troop, 3 Commando, remembers a projected casualty figure of 30 per cent. ‘I also found out later that two entire floors had been quietly cleared out in the Andrew Fleming Hospital [Salisbury’s main hospital] to handle a big influx of casualties.’
Robinson told the men that six Dakotas would drop 144 paratroopers on two sides of the target box, and another 40 RLI troops would be choppered in to the third side. The thought going through many soldiers’ minds was: ‘It will be no problem getting 184 troopies in there, but if things go badly, how the hell are we all going to get out?’
Robinson made it clear that the G-cars would fly in to extract the troops only when the battle was over, adding that the parachutes and helmets would be lifted out first; the troops would leave last.
‘On landing,’ he said, ‘get out of your harness, link up with anyone in your immediate area, take good cover, wait and shoot.’
Having outlined the sweep plan that he would control from the command helicopter, he then gave details of radio-communication frequencies, callsigns, withdrawal, emergencies, and so on.
After questions and clarifications, a tea break was ordered. Everyone filed out into the other half of the hangar, the PTS side, where tables with tea and biscuits were waiting.
Meanwhile, back in the briefing hangar next door, the model makers were scurrying about removing the Chimoio model and replacing it with the one of Tembue.
During the tea break, the leader of No. 1 (Hunter) Squadron, Squadron Leader Rich Brand, approached Norman Walsh. ‘Sir, if taking out the ZANLA leaders in the HQ is key, then may I suggest I use guns rather than bombs?’
Brand was the air force’s top marksman; he was deadly accurate with the 30-mm cannons. Walsh saw the wisdom of the suggestion. ‘Okay, but then both your wingmen must carry Golf bombs.’
When they walked back into the hangar, the new target caused another buzz of excitement. A very different-looking target now occupied the floor. This was the second phase of Dingo, codenamed Zulu 2. This target was simpler than Chimoio, with only three camps along the banks of a river running north–south, making for easy orientation. Much of the operational detail had already been discussed, therefore the briefing for Zulu 2 was much shorter. Afterwards, Walsh called everyone’s attention to a master clock with a large face and a second hand. Everyone was to synchronise their watches to that clock – to the second.
The command structure was then explained. Group Captain Norman Walsh was the airborne commander, with Squadron Leader Harold Griffiths, the helicopter squadron boss, as his deputy. Major Brian Robinson was the ground-force commander, with Major Mike Graham nominated as his deputy, but also serving as commander on the ground.
If the command helicopter became disabled or needed to leave the battle area, Griffiths would extract Graham from the battlefield and the two of them would then assume the role of the command helicopter. In such an event, the ground-force command would pass from Major Graham to Major Jeremy Strong of the RLI.
After a final question-and-answer session, Lieutenant General Peter Walls, the supreme commander, addressed the hushed gathering and emphasised the importance of Operation Dingo to the bigger picture, then wished the men well. People filed out of the hangar, all deep in thought, arranging their minds around what needed to be done over the next 18 hours.
‘During the briefing,’ recalled Dave Jenkins, ‘the need for absolute secrecy was impressed upon us, to the extent that we were not allowed to leave camp.’ Indeed, to ensure secrecy, most of the men were quarantined in New Sarum.
After the briefing, people broke up into their own groups for further briefings and discussions. That is when Jenkins found out he would be flying with ‘Boss’ Walsh in the command helicopter. ‘It was after the briefing that Geoff Dartnall told us who we were flying with. Why I was tasked to fly in the command chopper I’m not sure. However, I remember Geoff saying to me that I was to make sure the aircraft stayed in the air at all costs. I was a bit miffed, and probably replied along the lines of “how the fuck do you do that when you get shot out of the air!”’
It was a busy afternoon for Derek de Kock and his parachute jump instructors: ‘All the PJIs were involved. We took our individual sticks and went through the aircraft drill and general para refresher training.’
