Dingo Firestorm (33 page)

Vic’s ankles, nose and pride healed and he continued flying the ‘frightening Lightning’ until, a few years later, his wife, Shirley, unexpectedly fell pregnant with their fourth child. Saudi was not a great place to be for childbirth, so Vic resigned from the Saudi Air Force and later that year, 1973, the Wightmans decided to head back home to Rhodesia.

Vic had joined the RRAF in 1958. He was posted to No. 11 Short Service Unit with the likes of Ian Harvey, Rich Brand and Tol Janeke. In many ways, Vic was not a typical air force pilot. He liked challenging the system, hated wearing shoes, disliked routine and got airsick. But he got his wings, and after the two-year contract was over, he left for England to join the RAF, where he spent time flying Canberras and Gnat trainer aircraft before volunteering to teach Saudi pilots to fly the Lightning.

Vic rejoined the RhAF and flew Hawker Hunters in No. 1 Squadron. Two years later, he spent time instructing ‘snotty-nosed students to fly the Impala and Vampire’. Just before Operation Dingo, Wightman returned to No. 1 Squadron as Rich Brand’s deputy. He would be the first pilot to deliver a new weapon on an external target – an antipersonnel bomb called flechettes.

Peter Petter-Bowyer had studied a French anti-personnel rocket system that delivered thousands of small darts (
fléchettes
in French) at high speed. This weapon was eventually banned by international treaty, mainly because the darts tended to tumble, making awful exit wounds. ‘What never made sense to me,’ recalls PB, ‘was that ordinary rifle bullets caused more damage and were just as lethal – yet they were not banned.’

PB experimented unofficially with a locally made version of the flechettes in 1964, launching a canister armed with the darts from a Provost, but the project was shelved. Twelve years later, having completed his work on the highly effective Golf bomb project, PB applied himself to completing the new weapon.

With his usual passion for simplifying things, PB had the darts made from headless six-inch nails, onto which were fitted moulded fins made from recycled plastic. They were packed into a single dispenser that held 4 500 darts. Being dropped at high speed – 450 knots was ideal – increased the weapon’s effectiveness. There was only one aircraft capable of achieving this speed: the Hawker Hunter.

PB had tests done from a Hunter in the typical gun or frantan profile, a 30-degree dive. ‘The tests proved that the new weapon was accurate and highly effective. Released in pairs at 450 knots resulted in an immensely dense cloud of flechettes flying a shallow trajectory, which made survival of those exposed within the 900 metres by 70 metres strike area impossible.’

The effect was equivalent to 340 Browning machine guns firing simultaneously. PB had developed yet another remarkable weapon.

Norman Walsh was not keen for the new weapon to be used during the Chimoio raid, however, because the UN High Commission for Refugees was bound to visit the complex after the raid. Because Tembue was so far off the beaten track, however, such a visit was unlikely, so Walsh approved their use for the second raid, Zulu 2. Vic Wightman would deliver the first flechette canisters on a ZANLA target in Mozambique.

The ZANLA Tete Province HQ at Tembue comprised three complexes along the Luia River, at the base of the Angonia Plateau of northern Mozambique, near the picturesque hamlet of Catane. The hamlet sported its own 900-metre grass runway, registered as Tembue airstrip, not to be confused with Tembue Town, also known as Chifunde, which is 12 kilometres to the north.

The Rhodesians knew Catane well, having visited it many times to liaise with the Portuguese military in the pre-FRELIMO days. It was only 25 kilometres from Bene, another place often frequented by the Rhodesian military in the days of Portuguese rule. Bene was known for the stench of the open latrines; it was also where the Rhodesians had first set eyes on a K-car belonging to the Portuguese. The Tembue airstrip is easy to find by air, as it lies near Serra Techecunda, a nearperfect conical mountain known by some as the Tembue Tit.

The three ZANLA camps at Tembue were made up of 400 mudand-thatch buildings situated between the Bene–Tembue road and the Luia River. Camp A, a basic training camp for recruits, was isolated, lying six kilometres north of the other camps, not unlike the recruits’ camp at Chimoio. Camp B was where ZANLA taught specialist skills to already trained guerrillas. Camp C, just less than three kilometres to the south of Camp B, housed fully trained guerrillas ready to deploy into Rhodesia. Each camp had a series of anti-aircraft pits surrounded by thick timber walls; these were dotted around a vast number of defensive trenches and bomb shelters.

In the aftermath of the Chimoio raid, it was not inconceivable that FRELIMO would decide to react this time, although Tembue was much more remote and isolated than Chimoio. The nearest threat to the Rhodesians was a platoon at Bene, 20 minutes away by road, and a company of 150 soldiers at Tembue Town, 30 minutes away. Any other potential FRELIMO reaction would take longer. There was a battalion at Fingoe, three hours away, and a FRELIMO company at Farancungo. The biggest threat was a reaction from the FRELIMO brigade HQ at Tete, six hours away by road. As a precaution, the roads leading to the target would be mined, ambushed and a mortar site set up within range.

The problem posed by Tembue was its distance. At 200 kilometres from Chiswiti, the final staging post inside Rhodesia, it was well out of range for a fully laden Alouette. Besides the admin base near Tembue, another refuelling site was needed on the way, ideally about halfway between Chiswiti and the target. The halfway mark, however, was bang in the middle of the widest part of Lago de Cahora Bassa (Lake Cahora Bassa), a large hydroelectric reservoir and dam holding back the Zambezi River.

Norman Walsh pondered the options. The lake’s shoreline was very rugged and too close to habitation. Landing beyond the lake was out of the question because that would push the Alouettes beyond a safe fuel reserve, not a good idea over dry land and even less attractive over water. A secure open piece of ground south of Cahora Bassa was needed. Walsh knew the area well from his earlier days as boss of No. 7 Squadron, when he often flew into Mozambique for meetings with the Portuguese and to fight FRELIMO. He needed a secure area away from populated areas and roads, but within an hour’s flying time of the target at Tembue. Walsh pored over the aerial photographs and maps, and soon realised exactly where the best place was.

About 40 kilometres north of the Rhodesian border in Mozambique was an ancient plateau, rising 700 feet above its surrounds. This tabletop feature ran broadly west–east, and measured 26 kilometres from end to end. Over the ages, it had eroded into an irregular shape, resembling a long-necked cat when seen from directly above at high altitude. When viewed from the ground in Rhodesia, the feature resembled a giant train heading west. The two parts forming the cat’s tail were the engine and coal tender, followed by irregular carriages ending with the cat’s head, resembling the guard’s van. Rhodesian pilots flying in the north-east on a clear day would often use the ‘Train’ as a navigation aid.

Being flat-topped, the plateau should make a good helicopter refuelling point, thought Walsh. It was exactly one hour from Tembue for a loaded Alouette, and only 21 minutes from the home staging base at Chiswiti. Another important factor was that the Train was inaccessible by land vehicle, making it a safe haven in the heart of hostile territory.

‘That’s where my first admin base will be,’ said Walsh as he planted a mapping pin, giving the cat a left eye, or, when looking at it from ground level, forming the roof of the guard’s van.

Walsh chose Wing Commander Rex Taylor as his ‘train driver’, or, more accurately, as the ‘guard’. Taylor had joined the second SSU as a cadet pilot in March 1952 along with Frank Mussell and 10 others. After the two-year contract was over, Taylor, together with Vic Paxton and Barry Stephens, joined the Kenya Police Air Wing. Both Taylor’s colleagues would perish in air accidents in Kenya. Taylor rejoined the RRAF in 1957, later becoming a founder member and instructor of No. 7 (Alouette) Squadron in 1962.

Rex Taylor loved the outdoors, nature and fishing. He also liked a bit of comfort in the bush. ‘In the late 1970s, I was “retreaded” out of a cosy office back to the cockpit of an Alouette III and fed into the Fireforce operating out of Grand Reef.’

After deploying a stick of troops during Fireforce operations, the G-cars would land nearby and await developments. But there was no tea served in the middle of the bush, so Taylor came up with a plan:

Legend has it that the army marches on its tea, but I was sure that I could make a brew which could be drunk, not marched upon. I acquired a gas stove and a cardboard box. From our caravan camping kit I borrowed the aluminium teapot and four plastic cups. The ration packs yielded tea, sugar and milk powder. The box shielded the gas stove and teapot from the wind, and the cups were painless to drink from, unlike the metal ones in issue.

It was no surprise that the Fireforce pilots and reserve sticks of infantrymen would gather around Taylor’s helicopter for tea. ‘Our tea tin shared the rigours and dangers of a gentleman’s war, camaraderie, banter and real bullets too.’

One of the first things Rex Taylor loaded into the Alouette about to ferry him from Mount Darwin to the Train was the Tea Tin Mark II and some fresh milk. Five Alouettes took off in the late afternoon, on the eve of the raid, bound for the Train, carrying Taylor and stopping at Chiswiti to pick up the RLI protection troops. Their role was to prepare the base for helicopter landings and a fuel drop early the next morning. There would, unfortunately, be no time for tea that evening.

‘The photographs had shown the landing zone to be a flat area covered in grass,’ recalled Taylor. ‘My first jolt came as we approached to land. In the fading light, the LZ seemed too good to be true, but as we got closer, what had seemed like grass suddenly became a grove of thick saplings. None of the choppers were able to land, and the whole company, plus a trembling, grey-haired airman, deplaned by jumping the last six feet into and among the stiff trees.’

Fortunately, no one was hurt, and Taylor and the RLI troops got down to clearing three hectares of bush as the full moon was rising. ‘I paced out the smallest individual landing circles that I dared, while my army colleague split his men into small groups to cut the clearings with pangas.’

The bush was thick, making the going tough. It took the men, including Taylor, until three in the morning to cut sufficient clearings for the helicopter fleet. Taylor’s ‘army colleague’ was none other than Major Simon Haarhoff, who had successfully formed the north side of the box with his 2 Commando heli-borne troops at Chimoio two days earlier.

Haarhoff saw the bush-clearing effort in a slightly different light than Taylor: ‘As soon as the troops started to clear the LZ, it became apparent that our equipment was woefully inadequate for the task. Army-issue pangas with blunt edges were just not able to cut the branches of the bushes, let alone the trees.’

Eventually, Haarhoff ordered his men to use a well-known panga substitute, the FN infantry rifle. He explains: ‘The 7.62-mm FN “chainsaw” was brought into action, and a number of the larger trees and bushes were cleared using this cunning device.’ Then it was time to sleep:

Each man found a hollow where he could crawl into his sleeping bag. I found what seemed like a game trail and spread my tense body into it, making a little scrape for my hip, as I had been taught in my scouting days. The advice was not sound – my hip seemed to find only jagged stones on the edge of the hollow! We were all probably too tired to sleep, but maybe those battle-hard toughies were made of sterner stuff and slept like the babes they really were. Ominous clouds had been threatening our little detachment and it wasn’t long before the heavens opened. Luckily, the storm just missed us, but my game trail revealed itself as a natural drain. I shifted out of the trickling water and fell asleep again.

After barely an hour’s sleep, the exhausted ‘train gang’ were up and about at the first hint of dawn, ready to receive the fuel drop. At Mount Darwin, Brian Robinson and Norman Walsh were anxiously waiting to hear the code word ‘Knock-Down’, confirming the base on the Train was operational. Taylor duly obliged: ‘My first act of war was a one-word transmission confirming that the weather was clear and we were ready for the fuel drop.’

Taylor barely had time to boil the water for tea before the sound of radial engines broke the early-morning silence. The fuel drop was very accurate. As Taylor observed:

We didn’t have time to admire the accuracy of the drop because, by my watch, the choppers were now starting engines and engaging their rotors. The eager RLI beavers rolled and wiggled two drums to each LZ and stood them up just off centre and forward of each clearing’s midpoint. The distance was such that if each Alouette landed with its starboard wheel alongside the drum, its vulnerable tail rotor would be within the safety of the clearing. More than that, the tech would simply have to open a drum, slip in the refuelling hose, and before the rotors had come to a halt, the chopper would be nearly full.

The defining tactic was that one soldier in each section donned a shiny, starched white dustcoat and stood in the middle of each clearing. In the gloom, the chopper pilots were able to pick up an LZ and land after homing onto our white-coated ‘pointsmen’.

Taylor’s eye for detail would make a big difference on the Train.

The nine cricket code words marking the major milestones on Zulu 1 were substituted by 10 boxing terms for Zulu 2, the extra milestone being the Train. The Zulu 2 milestones were First Round, Knock-Down, Square Ring, Last Leg, Punch Leg, Tight Rope, Corner Seat, Seconds In, Fat Lip and Broken Nose.

For Zulu 2, the Hunters would operate from Salisbury, which was 112 kilometres, or 16 minutes, closer to the target than Thornhill. The reconnaissance Lynxes and all helicopters would leave from FAF 4, the air force base at Mount Darwin. After the paradrop, the Dakotas would land at Mount Darwin to be on standby to drop reinforcements, should the need arise.