Xivatcha often saved an operation from disaster through his calm and decisive reactions. This was the case when we conducted a reconnaissance of a suspected SWAPO base in the area of a forward FAPLA detachment at a settlement called Chiunga, in southern Angola.
As part of a large offensive against SWAPO detachments, Sector 10 had established a forward helicopter base known as a helicopter administrative area (commonly referred to as an HAG, after its Afrikaans name, Helikopter Administratiewe Gebied) inside Angola. The purpose of the HAG was to provide a quick-reaction capability to 32 Battalion companies deployed to hunt down the enemy, while twelve-man paratrooper sticks were placed on immediate standby at the helicopters.
Our recce team from 31 Battalion, under the command of a newly trained lieutenant from the recce wing, was flown in from Ondangwa to the HAG and tasked to locate the SWAPO base. I was to act as the team’s second-in-command. From the HAG we had to cover 20 km on foot to the target during the night, find the base by first light and call in the reaction force for the attack the following morning.
Little did we realise that the reconnaissance was meant to provide a reason for the commander to initiate offensive actions against the FAPLA company at Chiunga, as they were suspected of harbouring SWAPO cadres. At that time FAPLA troops were not considered enemy, but the South Africans were frustrated by the fact that SWAPO shared facilities with FAPLA elements. Often it was impossible to distinguish between the two forces, as they used the same weapons and equipment.
By first light we hadn’t located the base, and we realised we were in trouble. Now we had to find the enemy base in broad daylight, a predicament compounded by the fact that our vision was restricted as we moved east towards the rising sun. By mid-morning we found evidence that we were close to the base, but we had not seen any enemy yet. Suddenly, across an open stretch of omuramba, we spotted a group of soldiers running away from our position. Two of us, the team leader and I, moved forward to establish an OP in a tree on the edge of the omuramba, leaving the rest of our patrol in the relative cover of the bush.
To have a better view across the omuramba, the team leader insisted on scaling one of the young mopane trees, an effort accompanied by much huffing, puffing and swearing. Above the commotion I suddenly noticed another sound, coming from the direction where we had left the rest of our team. It initially sounded like the far-off barking of dogs, but we quickly recognised it as the high-pitched yelling of people moving in on the hide. Then some shots were fired, and the two of us started sprinting back to the hide.
By the time we reached the team, the skirmish had developed into a full-blown contact. We automatically started to withdraw and fell into a well-rehearsed routine of “buddy-buddy” (or fire-and-movement, where one person in the buddy pair would move under cover of his buddy’s fire), eventually splitting into two groups to peel off to both flanks of the advancing enemy. Soon my team was out of the line of fire and we made good our escape by circling behind the enemy’s advance.
The team leader, Xivatcha and a third member of the team were not so lucky. By this time they had been caught against the open omuramba on their right flank, and as a result had to withdraw while squarely in the line of fire. The team leader, not knowing whether we were dead or still fighting, realised that he had to establish radio comms to call in the reaction force. However, they now found themselves in a desperate fight, pinned against the open omuramba and with no way of disengaging from the contact.
At some point during this extended battle, Xivatcha shouted at the lieutenant to stay down, insisting that they set up the radio and establish comms, even if it meant making a stand against the advancing and much superior enemy force. He then took it upon himself to defend the position while the other two got the radio into action.
As Xivatcha kept a constant volume of fire going, the other two established comms, with the result that the parabat reaction force could soon be trooped in by helicopter to engage the enemy from behind. Heavy fighting ensued and lasted for most of the day, but our two teams were soon reunited and evacuated to the HAG.
On another deployment, Xivatcha again saved the lives of his team members by correctly assessing the situation and responding appropriately. Under the code name Operation Carnation, the recce wings of 31 and 32 battalions had to do the route reconnaissance for some of the combat groups that would advance into southern Angola during Operation Protea in August 1981. Operation Protea was aimed at neutralising FAPLA bases at Xangongo, Ongiva and Peu-Peu through semi-conventional attacks by mechanised forces and to destroy SWAPO in the area between the Cunene and Cubango rivers.
My team did the reconnaissance for Combat Group 30 from Beacon 16 north of Ombalantu to the tar road leading from Ongiva to Xangongo in southern Angola. As part of the larger offensive, Combat Group 30 had to approach Xangongo from the east, then swing north in order to neutralise FAPLA forces at Peu-Peu, while three other combat groups would attack Xangongo. This time I was compelled to take a six-man team, so that we would be able to “make a stand” in an encounter with the enemy. Fortunately, the idea of a ten-man team for reconnaissance missions had by then been exposed as ridiculous.
At the time I did not argue the matter, as a route recce did not require the same levels of secrecy and stealth as a point-target recce. In fact, I decided to approach the job more aggressively and prepared the team as a fighting patrol. Everyone therefore kitted up with support weapons and loads of ammunition. The real reason for this was that we would most likely end up in contact situations alongside elements of the combat group, and I had nightmares about running out of ammunition and having to quit in front of our national servicemen.
Once again, Xivatcha was part of the team. During the recce we painstakingly worked out, logged and memorised a route we would be able to follow at night, leading the combat group in towards Xangongo in the pitch dark. To ensure that we would follow the correct route, I took rolls of toilet paper and wrapped it around trees and bushes all the way up to the tar road. We had quite a laugh trying to imagine what message a SWAPO patrol might have gleaned from the wrapped-up trees – anything from “the shit is coming your way” to “begin solank gat skoonmaak [start cleaning your arse, or get away while you can]”.
On the third day of the mission, instead of running out of ammunition, we ran out of battery power for the radio. With the last bit of battery life, I called in a resupply. This was done by Alouette, which didn’t need a large landing zone, so I left four guys in the hide among the trees and headed off with one Bushman to an open area a few hundred metres away. The resupply went smoothly and soon the noise from the two Alos died away as they disappeared to the south.
I was still speaking to the pilots on the VHF radio when two Bushmen suddenly dashed into the open from the direction of the hide, eyes wild and thumbs pointing down from their closed fists in the familiar sign for “enemy”. Xivatcha and his buddy were nowhere to be seen.
“SWAPO, baie, baie [many, many]…!”
“How many?” I demanded and they cried out, “Maar baie, baie, Luitenant. Miskien twintig of veertig [A lot, Lieutenant. Maybe twenty, or forty].”
I immediately called back the two retiring choppers, just managing to get a signal through by holding the radio above my head. The pilots, keen for some action, didn’t hesitate.
At that point I was expecting the worst, thinking that the other two members of our team had been overpowered by the enemy. We rushed back to the area of the hide in line-abreast formation, going low as we approached. They were still there, Xivatcha and his buddy, guarding our packs and watching the enemy moving past them to form up for an attack. Suddenly the choppers were there, circling overhead.