I cannot remember the date she came to me at FAF 5, asking to be dropped off at a village some thirty kilometres northeast of Mtoko. She had already arranged to meet with a large number of local women and had been given clearance, in writing from Minister P.K. van der Byl, to make the visit. However the Army was unable to assist immediately and the Air Force had not been notified. Nevertheless, I sorted things out with Air HQ and clearance was given to deliver her at sunset for her all-night indaba, and collect her at sunrise.
The location to which Philippa was going happened to be a particularly hot spot, so the G-Car in which she flew was accompanied by a K-Car to cover the landing. The G-Car pilot who delivered Philippa was very relieved when he saw the large crowd of expectant women rushing to meet her as she climbed out, skirt flying, to meet them. But, like all of us, the pilot could not help being deeply concerned for the safety of this very brave white woman.
When the war ended, I learned from ZANLA that the local ZANLA commander had been fully aware of Philippa’s impending visit and had instructed CTs not to fire at the helicopter but to keep a low profile. After dark and unbeknown to Philippa, ten CTs crept forward and remaining in the shadows surrounded the meeting place to listen to every word she spoke. So impressed were they by her fluency in Shona and the advice she gave the women that her departure by helicopter at sunrise went unchallenged.
Philippa’s husband, law Professor Dick Christie, was not only good-looking, he differed a great deal from his softly spoken and very well-mannered wife. Whenever distanced from his professional environment he always let his hair down. Dick was an Air Force Volunteer Reserve officer who flew second ‘dickey’ in Dakotas. His favourite place for call-up was FAF 7, Buffalo Range. Dick Christie always celebrated his last night at FAF 7 by mixing a strange alcoholic concoction that included mashed bananas. There were never many takers for Dick’s ‘free drink’ that went by some catchy name. In consequence, he drank more than he bargained for and got very happy, noisy and quite sloshed. It was in this condition that he became involved with others in ‘roof-rattling’ sleeping helicopter crews. Late drinkers often annoyed tired crew who had gone to bed at a sensible hour by throwing stones onto the noisy tin roofs of their billets. Dick joined in but, instead of throwing small sized stones, he heaved a brick that failed to make the height of the roof. Instead, it went through a window and broke the leg of a sleeping helicopter pilot. Next morning, a very sombre Dick was particularly embarrassed as he walked up the sloping deck of the Dakota past the unfortunate pilot who was lying strapped to a casevac stretcher. To add to his embarrassment, the pilot asked Dick if he was in a fit enough state to fly the Dakota.
Final tracker dogs trial
I HAD JUST BEEN AWARDED THE Defence Cross for Distinguished Service (DCD) for my project work when I was approached to try out dogs in a genuine track-down of CTs.
I learned that Flight Sergeant Terry Rubenstein, under direction from Wing Commander Rex Taylor, had resuscitated the radio tracker dog project. Rex and members of the Air Force Dog Section at New Sarum had been very annoyed by the Police Dog Training Centre’s inability, or disinterest, in progressing the system to full operational status, so they trained two African handlers and their Alsatians for the task. Wing Commander Peter Cooke had tried them unsuccessfully in April 1978. The problems Peter encountered then were resolved but it was considered that I was the best man to make a final test.
I could not expect to be given an Alouette III for this task so Ted Lunt converted me onto an Alouette II because there were some spare at New Sarum. I had not flown this aircraft before even though most of the earlier helicopter pilots had undergone their initial helicopter training on this machine.
The Alouette II was not as pleasant to fly as its big sister, the Alouette III, but for me it was so much nicer than any fixed-wing aircraft. With two handlers and two dogs on board there was hardly room to move. Again I chose to base at Mtoko where I arranged ten ‘volunteers’ to walk a trail in the late evening. Next morning the dogs followed the trail without difficulty. Having satisfied myself that the dogs and handlers appeared to know their business it was just a matter of waiting for someone to come up with CT tracks to follow.
When a radio call came through reporting a night attack on a farm with fresh CT tracks confirmed, I called for the handlers and their dogs. Almost immediately I noticed how nervous the handlers were. As we lifted off one or both of them made their nervousness known by releasing wind which filled the cabin with an unwelcome stench.
The moment the dogs were put on the trail it became obvious to me that they were not going to run. After a number of failed attempts I landed back at the farm and questioned the two trackers. Neither one had ever seen action and both had heard horrifying stories of soldiers and airmen being killed in helicopters. I decided then that the dogs must have sensed their handlers’ fear and that this was the reason they had reacted badly. I needed to prove this.
With JOC Hurricane’s approval I arranged for a group of black soldiers to lay a trail from the same farm at the same time as the CTs had attacked it. Next morning I put down on their trail at the same time we had landed on the CT trail the day before. The dog handlers knew there would be no shooting at the end of the run and the dogs reacted normally, easily running down the soldiers ten kilometres from the start point.
The handlers’ fear of potential CT fire and the adverse effect this had on their dogs had been proven. However, to give dog handlers airborne combat experience was an impossibility that threw the whole radio tracker dog concept out of the window. My own very biased opinion is that had I spent another year on helicopters back in 1969 this situation would have been foreseen and many successes might have resulted. The obvious solution was to train Air Force dogs to be handled by combat-experienced helicopter technicians or soldiers.
More enemy reversals
ZIPRA HAD BEEN PRETTY INEFFECTIVE inside the country because sporadic RSF actions had disallowed them from establishing themselves in the N’debele tribal areas as effectively as their ZANLA opponents had done in the east. So troubled were ZAPU’s leaders about their waning image that they even resorted to claiming one of ZANLA’s notable successes. This was an attack against the large fuel storage depot in Salisbury’s industrial sites.
During the night of 11 December 1978, a small ZANLA sabotage unit fired RPG 7 rockets into three fuel-storage tanks, setting them alight. Such surprise was achieved that the CTs were gone before the Police protection detachment realised what had happened. The resulting fires radiated such intense heat that the tanks partially collapsed, spilling fuel in a chain reaction that destroyed twenty-two of the twenty-eight tanks in the complex. This attack dealt Rhodesia a near-crippling blow and it took three long months before the country’s precious fuel reserves were restored.
In the meantime, ZIPRA agents and operatives in Rhodesia, obviously following ZANLA’s lead, had been very busy recruiting in Matabeleland causing JOC Tangent great concern for the sudden high outflow of youngsters to Botswana. Most were being taken out at gunpoint! Nevertheless ZIPRA was still considered to be in a state of disarray following earlier SAS activities in Zambia. So, for the time being, ZANLA remained our primary concern.