Although we were equipped with standard flight instrumentation, it was necessary to physically control an aircraft every second it was airborne. There were no such luxuries as autopilot, a second pilot, aids to pinpoint one’s position or to guide one in for a safe landing. The airfields into which we operated had no let-down aids of any description. Very often, when cloud cover necessitated flying above minimum safe altitude to clear all high ground, our best assistance came from men on the ground saying something like, “We can hear you to our northeast.”
Once guided to approximately overhead it was a matter of entering into a gentle descending turn hoping to break cloud close to the airfield before reaching minimum safety height. Over flat sections of the Zambezi Valley this was not too bad, but in mountainous terrain immense tensions built up in one’s mind and body before breaking out below cloud and seeing one’s destination.
With no aids to assist navigation and let-down in remote areas I, like most pilots, often wondered how I could have let myself in for such a hazardous occupation. On these occasions I longed for the safety of jet flying which always brought one back to a major airfield with all aids, including radar. But, being stuck with the problem, one had to work at remaining calm and reminding oneself that Air Force training had been geared to cater for these frightening situations.
Even when the destination airfield, other than Air Force FAFs, had been located, danger existed because pilots were forced to rely on soldiers, policemen and civilians to mark the runway. I will say more about this subject later.
Flying Provosts was always less trying that flying Trojans in identical situations. The Provost felt sturdy, it had ample power to cater for the unexpected and responded well to throttle and flight controls. Wearing a parachute also gave some comfort if everything went pear-shaped. On the other hand, the Trojan could be a real bitch, particularly when laden and there was no alternative but to stay with the beast, no matter what happened.
Trojan characteristics
THANKS TO SUPERB TECHNICIANS AND the excellent training given to its pilots, the Trojan did a marvellous job despite its limitations. All the same, this aircraft’s unusual characteristics often took one by surprise by day as well as night.
I was returning from one recce sortie in Mozambique low on fuel when I encountered a solid line of cumulonimbus running the length of the escarpment. There was no way around the storm line, which was putting on a spectacular display of near-continuous lightning strikes. My destination was Centenary and it was already too dark to go into Mukumbura or Musengezi, so I selected a section between two huge cumulonimbus columns that appeared to offer the safest passage through the storm line.
With lights set to maximum brightness and having transferred attention to instruments, the cloud was entered with stopwatch running at an indicated height of 6,500 feet above sea level. Instantly smooth, straight and level flight changed as unseen forces within the storm cloud took hold of the Trojan and lifted it as if it was feather-light. Inside the aircraft the sensations, sounds and instrument indications were terrifying.
With all my strength I worked to keep wings level, paying scant attention to the varying pitch attitude as the airspeed indicator fluctuated rapidly between stalling speed and somewhere beyond VNE. The Vertical Speed Indicator was against its upper stop and the whole airframe shuddered and shook so violently that I thought it might break up. One minute and ten seconds after entering cloud, which felt like an eternity, the aircraft was spewed out of the storm into clear, calm air at 11,500 feet above sea level. Stretched out ahead was a fairyland of security lights burning brightly from Centenary’s farmsteads.
5,000 feet gained in such a short time was one thing; unstoppable descents towards the ground with full power applied was quite another. There were times when it seemed such descents must end in disaster. On one particular occasion I was flying along a narrow valley in the Shamva area with the high ground right and left a little below the level of flight. The aircraft started to descend rapidly under the influence of a strong crosswind flow so I applied full power and was in a normal climbing attitude, but the aircraft continued descending into the valley.
I was not concerned about going all the way to ground because it was obvious that wind flow must level off before this occurred. My concern was for the ridge at the end of the blind valley that was too narrow to allow turn-about. The aircraft levelled out at about fifty feet as expected and remained there until lifted upwards so fast that it had risen above the high ground well before valley’s end.
The Trojan’s response to local windflow and thermal activity could have it descending like a streamlined brick or climbing like a homesick angel. For me the Trojan’s sensitivity to air currents was especially annoying when I first started visual recce. It took some time to get used to trimming the aircraft and allowing it to float up and down without fighting to hold a fixed height. Somehow the downs seemed to equal the ups as the aircraft yow-yowed about the intended recce height.
SAS ops in Tete
UP UNTIL AUGUST 1973, SAS operations in Tete had not achieved what Brian Robinson had hoped for. Patrols succeeded in locating groups of ZANLA moving through the area but infantry reaction to SAS hot intelligence had been agonisingly slow and poor for a variety of reasons. The greatest of these was the pitifully small lift-capacity of only two helicopters operating from the co-located SAS and RAR Tactical HQs on the border at Musengezi Mission. Other helicopters were always tied up elsewhere on internal operations.
Parachute deployment of the infantry by Dakotas was an obvious solution but at the time there were no paratroopers besides the SAS. This was because the Air Force had only sufficient parachutes for the SAS and the Air Force Parachute Training School was short of PJIs (Parachute Jump Instructors). So, although planning and provisioning was underway to make all regular soldiers paratroopers, we were stuck with what was available.
When the SAS located CT groups, the two Alouettes had to make a number of round trips to position sufficient troops ahead of the assessed line of CT movement. This in itself involved a lot of time. But a greater limitation came from the noise of helicopters that carried for miles in the flat Zambezi Valley. CTs, having travelled through the silence of bush for many days, could hear helicopters flying as much as thirty kilometres away, which accounted for major deviations in their headings that invariably bypassed the awaiting troops.
The SAS had been entirely successful in their classical role of finding the enemy for the infantry. However, repeated failures by the RAR to capitalise on the good work of his men made Brian Robinson reconsider the SAS role. He concluded that SAS callsigns must continue in their classical role but take on the ZANLA groups themselves.
In essence, Brian advocated a ‘seek-and-find then shoot-and-scoot’ style of operation. To be effective in mobile reconnaissance as well as in static surveillance necessitated the use of small patrols. This meant that, when they came upon large groups that had previously been passed on to the RAR, they would not be able to engage the enemy in typical infantry fashion. Relying entirely on surprise, they would have to act rapidly to inflict maximum casualties and get the hell away as fast as possible. Such hit-and-run operations would obviously be dangerous and immediate air support had to be discounted. Nevertheless, Brian pushed for this new approach because he had supreme confidence in his men. They had all been painstakingly selected from the best volunteers and were trained to the highest degree possible. But he also realised that, if there was to be any hope of turning the ZANLA tide, it was essential that the SAS should operate in depth north of the Zambezi River with regular infantry covering the ground south of the river. For this he had to have at least two helicopters and two Provosts permanently available on immediate readiness at his Tac HQ.