At the Chimanimani Arms Hotel, we learned from him about SAS and its style of operations. He told us we would probably be seeing a number of young soldiers in the mountains undergoing an SAS selection process. The next morning on our way into the mountains we spotted SAS tents near the base of the mountains at Dead Cow Camp from which place the selection course was being conducted. Then, late in the afternoon, I was flying with my technician Butch Graydon when I spotted two men climbing the long slope of Ben Nevis. One virtually carried the other.
I landed on the steep slope right next to these two exhausted men and established that the man being assisted had broken his ankle some hours earlier. I asked the injured man to come aboard so I could fly him out for medical treatment. He refused point blank saying he would fail the SAS selection process if he did not get to the top of Ben Nevis and then complete the descent to Dead Cow Camp next day via a really tortuous route running down a very long and steep forested ravine. Not fully understanding the harshness of the SAS selection process, and using rank, I ordered the injured man to come aboard saying I would explain to his seniors that I had forced him into doing this. Reluctantly he boarded the aircraft, but his mate refused a lift saying he would be fine now that he no longer needed to assist his injured mate.
We flew down to Dead Cow Camp where I met Warrant Officer Bouch MCM for the first time. He struck me as a frosty old-timer who was not at all pleased with me for interfering with his selection course. I explained that, apart from the injured man’s foot being in serious need of attention, I was concerned that his mate might also become a casualty when bringing the injured man down the mountain ravine. Fortunately, Major Coventry showed up. He accepted that I had acted in good faith and all was forgiven. Happily both the injured man and his mate were accepted into the SAS.
Nevada murder
AT 04:30 ON 25 MAY 1966, I received a call requiring me to report to the squadron with my bush gear. Since this was always ready and packed, I left home within ten minutes of the call. On arrival at the squadron I found our technicians, who lived on station, preparing four helicopters. At a short briefing in New Sarum Operations Room, Squadron Leader John Rogers, Gordon Nettleton, Ian Harvey and myself were instructed to fly to Nevada Farm just north of Hartley where a gang of terrorists had murdered a farmer and his wife.
Our arrival at Nevada Farm was at dawn. We went into the farmhouse where the naked body of Mr Viljoen lay sprawled on the floor close to his dead wife. Three exhausted Special Branch (SB) men lay fast asleep on the bed from which the couple had risen to investigate knocking on their bedroom door.
It appeared that Mr Viljoen had been reluctant to open the door to late-night callers because the bullets that cut him down had been fired through the door. Mrs Viljoen had obviously gone to her husband’s aid only to be cut down too. The terrorists then broke down the door and stepped over the dead bodies. A baby sleeping in her cot in her parents’ room was narrowly missed by bullets that remained embedded in the wall above and below her. Two other children sleeping in their own bedroom escaped injury. By the time reports of gunfire brought help to Nevada Farm, the terrorists had vanished into the night having first put the three children back to sleep and looted fridge and pantry of all foodstuffs.
All day long we deployed police and SB groups for miles around to search for leads on the whereabouts of the group responsible for these awful murders. Feelings ran high as more and more police, some with dogs, arrived and set up camp next to the farmstead. A police mobile canteen had been established by 7 am and from it we were able to snatch the odd cup of coffee and ultra-thick sandwiches between flights. In the evening, cold beers and a good meal were followed by welcome sleep. At daybreak a substantial breakfast, served by very friendly Police Reserve men and women, set us up for the day.
I was required to take six PR men to a position where the Umfuli River passes through the Mcheka-wa-ka-Sungabeta mountain range to guard a damaged helicopter. Gordon Nettleton had struck a tree with his main rotor blades whilst landing in the heavy bush that made this untamed area of countryside so beautiful. Fortunately, a technical inspection showed that Gordon’s aircraft would be safe for a one-time unloaded flight back to Nevada for rotor blades to be changed. With Gordon’s aircraft gone, the PR men I had brought in linked up with the ones from Gordon’s aircraft and together they set off on a patrol, seeking leads on what had become known as the ‘Nevada Gang’.
After dark Ian Harvey and I were required to return to uplift these same men because they reported having hot information. Landing in that general area by day was quite tricky, but finding the same location and landing in the dark could have presented major problems. As it happened, the PR had located an open ledge on the side of the Umfuli River making single-aircraft entries fairly straightforward for both Ian and myself.
Though not needed for this uplift, our OC decided to tag along flying very high above us. He did this in hope of picking up a campfire in the remote and unpopulated area. When we were already on our way back to base, John Rogers told us that he had located a fire close to a distinctive bend on the Umfuli River. Judging by its relative position to the river, his map showed it to be on a steep slope and he was certain this was where the terrorists were camping.
Back at Nevada Farm however, he became frustrated by the Police choosing only to react to ground-acquired intelligence and refusing to accept any lead given by a pilot. Two days later a cave with freshly burnt embers, at the precise location John Rogers had plotted on the police operations map, proved to have been occupied by the terrorist gang on the night in question.
Intelligence established that the Nevada Gang, comprising seven men, was a component of the twenty-one men who entered Rhodesia together then split up near Sinoia. The Armageddon Group had remained in the Sinoia area where it had been annihilated and the third group of seven had gone on to Salisbury. An ex-BSA policeman by the name of Gumbotshuma led the gang we now sought. He turned out to be a wily bird because he understood police thinking and tactics. In particular he understood the police cordon-and-search system and obviously knew how to exploit its weaknesses, as we were to find out.
Following discovery of the cave, ground leads indicated that Gumbotshuma and his men were currently camping on the side of the Mcheka-wa-ka-Sungabeta mountain, some way northeast of the cave. This section of the mountain range formed the western boundary of the Zowa African Purchase Land for black farmers. It was from a named farmer that the Nevada Gang was receiving succour. From his lofty perch Gumbotshuma could monitor all movements on the African farms below. Nevada Farm was only thirteen miles away and all roads leading into his area were visible to Gumbotshuma.
He watched the helicopters flying to the ridge behind him and knew that they were deploying men of the stop line. He watched the vehicles arriving at the base of the mountain and saw flanking men climb the mountain in two lines on either side of his position. After a long while, the sweep line at the base commenced its slow climb towards him.
All of the terrorists were closely grouped in a gully and moved slowly forward under directions given by Gumbotshuma. When the gap he was watching for seemed right, the gang tucked against one bank of the gully and listened as the closest men in the sweep line passed noisily by. Having been missed, Gumbotshuma knew the force would be uplifted from the ridge by helicopter and flown back to the waiting vehicles below. All he had to do was stay low until all the police returned to base.