By late afternoon we had two machines awaiting repairs in the field and were almost out of fuel. Happily the FRELIMO force had moved off, probably having expended all its ammunition, but more fuel had to be flown in and it became obvious that everyone would have to remain where they were for the night. When the DC7 returned, its first drop was momentarily delayed beyond my ‘green light’ call resulting in a fuel pallet crashing through the mahobahoba tree under which I was standing and damaged my little table. What horrified everyone each time the DC7 passed 200 feet above us was the bright flaming of its ringed exhaust system that could not possibly be missed by Strela in the fast-fading light.
None of the aircrew had any type of bedding for the cold night ahead, nor did we have anything to eat. However concern for a possible FRELIMO attack put hunger in second place as we gathered up parachutes, rolled into them and lay quietly listening to every sound of the night awaiting to be overtaken by sleep. Around us the helicopter vision screens reflected starlight so brightly that they appeared like beacons to an unseen enemy. By this time however, there were fair numbers of SAS troops ranged around the Admin Base, which was very comforting. Lying on my back in moderate comfort and gazing at the bright stars so tightly packed in cold clear conditions, I couldn’t help wondering why in the world war was so endemic to mankind when there was so much space for all to live in peace.
I was still pondering on this when I felt a snake move across my shoulder, over my chest, under the parachute and down to my feet. There it turned direction coming back between my legs heading for my chin. I dared not move nor even whisper a word to those around me. I felt the snake’s head bump my chin then turn towards my feet again, this time outside the parachute. Then I felt a fluttering on my chest as the rest of the snake’s body kept flowing upwards. When the tail was out, I gently lowered my chin to see what the creature was doing, only to find many little field mice milling around on my chest and stomach. These little blighters were responsible for my uncomfortable moments, having made a snake-like, head-to-tail journey through the warmth of my makeshift bed.
I rose at dawn in light, freezing fog to brew a cup of coffee. A little distance away I saw an old black man sitting by a small fire. He had been found close to the Admin Base the previous day and had been apprehended by the Army protection force to ensure that he did not go off to report our position to FRELIMO. The old fellow had been well fed with food he probably had not seen for years and seemed very pleased to be among us. Now however, in the cold dawn wearing only a pair of tattered shorts, he was very cold and his body shook in violent spasms that wracked his scrawny frame. I removed my anorak and took off the thick grey home-knitted jersey under it to give to the old man. Judging by the expression on his old face, nothing in the world could have brought him more joy.
The whole helicopter force lifted off early for the return flight to Mount Darwin, leaving behind the protection party, the old black man and two unserviceable helicopters with their crews. There were also stay-behind forces in the Tembue 2 camp complex.
It was only when we reached Mount Darwin that it dawned on me that the jersey I had given the old man had my nametag sewn inside its collar. Harold Griffiths, released from COMOPS for this operation, was returning to the Admin Base next day so I requested that he find the old man and remove the nametag from his jersey as a precaution against possible retribution by FRELIMO. When I saw Griff again, he handed me the nametag saying the old man had been sad to see everyone go.
I left Mount Darwin for New Sarum during the evening of our return from Tembue 2. To see me off was the New Sarum Station Warrant Officer, Barney Barnes, who was enjoying a spell at FAF 4. He was full of bounce and just as noisy as ever when he closed my Cessna’s door and bid me farewell. So it came as a real shock to be told, only forty minutes later, that Barney Barnes had died of a heart attack as he entered the FAF 4 pub, having just seen me off.
Viscount disaster
SADLY, AIR RHODESIA HAD DONE nothing to protect their Viscount airliners against Strela, despite Air Force warnings and their knowledge of two failed attempts by ZIPRA to shoot down South African Airways aircraft on scheduled flights to Victoria Falls Airport. The price for this omission was paid on 3 September 1978 when a routine flight from Kariba to Salisbury met with a tragedy that had the people of Rhodesia reeling.
Captain John Hood and First Officer Garth Beaumont took off from Kariba Airport on Air Rhodesia Flight 825 climbing the Viscount out westward over the lake in accordance with standing instruction. This was a precautionary procedure to guard against possible CT ground fire that might pose a threat on the easterly climb-out over land. They turned southeastward for Salisbury and were still in the climb over Urungwe Tribal Trust Lands when a Strela missile exploded between the two starboard engines. Both engines failed and an intense fire broke out.
Having no option but to get the aircraft on the ground as soon as possible, John Hood put out a ‘May Day’ call but had insufficient time to give the Kariba Air Traffic Controller his exact location. Warning of an impending forced-landing was given to the passengers who adopted the head-on-knees posture to limit injury after touch-down. Following a relatively gentle landing on the best available open field, the aircraft rolled for some distance before pitching into an unseen donga that killed both pilots, destroyed the Viscount and ruptured fuel tanks that set the distorted cabin ablaze.
Forty passengers and crew died in the crash but eighteen miraculously clambered out to safety, most with injuries. Five of the passengers helped settle the injured before going in search of water and help. They were some distance away by the time a group of ZIPRA CTs arrived at the crash site. Initially the CTs told the survivors not to be afraid, but then opened fire killing ten of then. Three managed to make their escape under fire.
I flew one of a number of aircraft hurriedly gathered to search for the Viscount that was known to be down but whose fate was not yet known. Fortunately a Dakota, taking part in the search and assigned to the most likely area, was carrying SAS paratroopers fully prepared for deployment. It so happened that it was this Dakota crew who located the stricken airliner and the SAS parachuted onto site immediately. The horror of what they discovered and reported reverberated around the world.
Interviewed on BBC television that same evening, Joshua Nkomo responded with a big smile and a hateful belly laugh as he acknowledged that ZIPRA was responsible for the deliberate downing of the civilian aircraft. The Western world heard this quite clearly but chose to ignore the horror because Rhodesia continued to be a hindrance to the West’s obvious desire to turn the country over to communists. So what if innocent civilians had been deliberately murdered!