The SAAF MAOT at Eenhana called out an Impala strike to just west of the base to assist a hard-pressed Koevoet stick, firing salvos of rockets into SWAPO defence lines. In general, the SAAF contribution had been heliborne with ships from 16 and 17 squadrons involved, operating from the Ondangwa, Eenhana and Ruacana bases. By day four of the operation, a total of 15 Pumas and 22 Alouette helicopters were operational.
There is a certain poetry in the fact that SAAF helicopter crews were in at the beginning and the end but there certainly seemed to be a great deal of unnecessary bloodshed considering that peace had already been negotiated. However, what cannot be denied and what perhaps is fitting as a last comment in this narrative is that the courage displayed by the PLAN units involved in the incursion, whatever might have been the mindset of their political handlers, was more frequently than not above reproach. In fact, many of the PLAN incursions were similarly undertaken by extraordinarily valorous men, with more attention than is perhaps fair being given to the SADF and associated security forces for the skill with which these men were tracked down, run to ground and killed. This is true, but it takes a particular type of courage and commitment to set off in the direction of almost certain death in the furtherance of an agenda that had about it all the Orwellian attributes that the 21st century has revealed in the African revolution. Another point worthy of ending upon.
APPENDIX:
ACCOUNT OF AN MAOT OFFICER DURING OPERATION ASKARI
BY CAPTAIN CHARLIE WROTH
On a Friday afternoon, early in November 1983, Spof Fee, Russell Espley-Jones and I landed our C-130 at AFB Waterkloof and made our way to the officers’ mess for drinks. Here we discovered that one of us was required for a two-month ground tour on the border. Being the youngest I was ‘volunteered’. I flew out on Sunday morning to AFB Grootfontein where I learned I was to be the MAOT with 61 Mechanized Battalion during Operation Askari.
At AFB Grootfontein I was issued with a specially equipped command Ratel, an armoured fighting vehicle nicknamed ‘Asterix’. My team consisted of my army driver, ‘Herman von Fochville’, Citizen Force Corporal Paul from Stellenbosch University and a flight sergeant radio operator ex-Rhodesian Air Force. The command vehicle used by SAAF differed from the Ratel used by the army in two ways: a) the SAAF vehicle had no armaments and b) the rear section of the SAAF Ratel was filled with mattresses.
After crossing the cut-line at Oshikango, 61 Mech headed toward Ongiva. En route the army commander exercised his unit by shouting “Visgraat!” over the radio. This term was used when enemy MiGs were in the vicinity to rapidly disperse the armoured column: vehicles turn off the road, alternately left and right, to park under the cover of the nearest suitable tree. The Afrikaans word translates to ‘fishbone’ and is very appropriate. The reaction appears chaotic but it worked. Within seconds the 100-vehicle convoy had disappeared. However, getting the column reorganized turned out to be quite a mission.
We continued north from Ongiva toward Mupa, our first target. The attack was led by Ratel 90s, supported by mortar fire and accompanied by psychological warfare loudspeakers belting out the theme tune for The Green Berets. The town was taken in a surreal atmosphere, my first impression that it was something out of the Kelly’s Heroes movie. Normality returned when two Alouettes piloted by Carl Alberts and Mike Fagin rendezvoused with the battle group. Sleeping out under the Angolan stars was a new experience for the SAAF. Everyone had to dig their own slit trench to sleep in. Once again, the difference between the browns and the blues was obvious: each SAAF trench had a mattress in it.
The battalion stopped in Xangongo to regroup, giving me the opportunity to see the damaged caused to buildings during Operation Protea, targets of AS-30 missiles fired from my Buccaneer. Operating off Xangongo airstrip were two SAAF Pumas, two Alouettes, a Bosbok and a team flying the RPV.
In Xangongo I met a group of soldiers who had found the wreckage of the SAAF Canberra shot down on 14 March 1979. They had organized the digging of a deep trench and had buried the remains of the aircraft. I was touched by this deed as Second Lieutenant Owen Doyle who was killed in the crash had been my roommate in the SAAF and we had attended Grey College in Port Elizabeth together.
From Xangongo we moved west on our mission to capture a Soviet SAM-8 missile system near Ediva. At this stage Major Dudley Wall was allocated to my vehicle. I was never quite sure of his mission, nevertheless we became good friends. After approximately three days, we launched an attack near Ediva but were met by Soviet T-54 tanks and BRDM armoured cars, well supported by their mortars. A number of our Ratels had wheels knocked out and a Unimog took a mortar in the back. Casualties were suffered and the attack was called off. While recovering injured soldiers from damaged vehicles, the medics took serious shrapnel wounds in their backs and were later decorated for bravery under fire. Light was starting to fade but I called in a Puma to casevac the injured. Escorted by two Ratel 60s, I set up an LZ in a disused quarry. Light was fading fast and the Puma called for white phos (phosphorus grenades) so they could locate the LZ as they were looking straight into the setting sun. With great caution I pulled the pin from the grenade and threw it farther than I have ever thrown a cricket ball. Captain Steel Upton landed the Puma and the medics, after stabilizing one of the seriously wounded soldiers, loaded the injured and the helicopter took off for Ondangwa. Sadly, we learned that the soldiers passed away during the flight.
61 Mech then repositioned northeast of Cahama and spent a week in the bush moving between Cahama and Chibemba. (One of the principles of war is that of manoeuvre; this is what 61 Mech was busy with. No commander enjoys having his enemy moving around his flank or manoeuvring in his rear.) On either Christmas Day or the day after, one of our Ratel 90s detonated a triple landmine. The blast split the vehicle’s shell and burned the men inside from the top down. However, although they were all as black as night, they were casevaced out and survived. The casevac helicopter brought in General Constand Viljoen for a quick flying visit even though we were 350 kilometres inside Angola.
The next day we set up an ambush on the road between Lubango and Cahama. A military Mercedes truck drove into the ambush and was shot up. Everybody on board was killed except for an Irish nurse. I was asked to fly her out but due to the lateness of the day this was not possible. She spent the night with a Special Forces unit. The next day when I briefed her on helicopter boarding drills, she said there was no need because she already knew the drilclass="underline" the SADF had ambushed her vehicle exactly a year before.
The ambush was re-set and an Angolan reconnaissance team investigating the still-smouldering vehicle entered the killing zone. There was a lot of whispering on the radios trying to confirm they were not our troops when suddenly all hell broke loose. “Gat toe, gat toe!” (To the trenches, to the trenches) was yelled as we all dived into our slit trenches, even the SAAF personnel. Two RPGs were fired in our direction, one exploding against a tree right behind us and the other self-destructing a bit farther away. My deafness lasted quite a few days. Once again, our troops managed to get the upper hand and destroyed the enemy recce team. The Angolan team leader was buried in a shallow grave next to my Ratel.