At dawn the troops moved cautiously forward only to find that the terrorists had extricated themselves during the night. A sweep through the area revealed five dead terrorists with evidence that others had been wounded. Large quantities of Russian equipment, mislaid during the battle and silent withdrawal, lay scattered over a large area. Notwithstanding the withdrawal, there was no doubting we were involved with a new breed of fighters. The aggression and efficiency shown by ZAPU and SAANC at Inyatue revealed that they were both prepared and able to fight and were unlikely to turn back for Zambia as might be expected from experiences with ZANU. Rather, they would continue in a southerly direction through the Wankie Game Reserve or along its eastern boundary, which was the railway line.
By 10 am three extra helicopters were available and the trackers had found that the terrorists had not made a completely ordered withdrawal. An initial assessment was that they had become divided in darkness into three separate groups. One large group and a lesser one were heading southwards into the Wankie Game Reserve and a very small group of four had set off south-eastwards along the line of rail. An ambush was established near the railway village at Dett where the four terrorists were killed.
For two days, trackers cast ahead but were experiencing some difficulty in getting a clear lead on the biggest group because the terrorists had spread out employing anti-tracking techniques as they moved through open savannah terrain. The countryside was bone dry, so surface water had to be the key to locating them.
With the general southward movement there was need to relocate forces. No 1 Brigade HQ, commanded by Brigadier Godwin with his staff officers Majors ‘Mac’ Willar and ‘Buttons’ Wells-West, moved to Shapi Pan during the course of the next day, 18 August. A FASOC, commanded by Flight Lieutenant Doug Butler, together with large quantities of drummed Avtur, was positioned next to Brigade HQ.
By the time our four helicopters arrived at Shapi Pans, Lieutenant Ian Wardle and his RAR tracker-combat team had been following spoor of the smaller group estimated to be for fifteen terrorists and twenty-four-hours old. The next morning Ian reported that he was passing Rhino Pens where National Parks nursed sick or hurt rhinos back to health. The terrorists had not seen water since leaving Inyatue and were moving down a line of water pans that were all baked white and bone dry.
A little later in the day I was returning from a deployment task when Brigadier Godwin requested that I divert to establish Ian’s exact position because he had just reported being two hours behind the terrorists and about to enter a forested area. Having established Ian’s location, I returned to Shapi Pans to refuel. Brigadier Godwin then asked me to return to Ian Wardle with a supply of water because Ian felt certain he was close to making contact.
I met Ian and his black soldiers in a tiny clearing deep inside the treed area. Everyone was drenched in sweat and, having filled water bottles and quenched their thirst, delighted in pouring cold water over their already soaking wet bodies. Watching these men made me wondered how the terrorists were faring having had no water since leaving Inyatue. Filthy dirty, unshaven and bubbling with enthusiasm, Ian said he would make contact in less than two hours and moved off at the head of his men. They were all out of sight before I had chance to wind up and lift off.
No sooner had we refuelled at Shapi Pans and settled down for a cup of tea when Buttons Wells-West ran over to say, “Get airborne chop, chop, Wardle called ‘contact’ on his HF radio. We heard heavy firing during the transmission but have heard nothing since and cannot raise him. Please get over there and find out what is happening.”
As I headed back with Bob Whyte, who I had taken on as my technician, I attempted, unsuccessfully, to raise Ian. We noticed heavy smoke rising from the bush way ahead and realised this was close to where we had last seen Ian. Even before we arrived overhead we saw that the fire was racing outwards spewing heavy black smoke. Already many hawks were heading towards it to feast on insects disturbed by the fire. Again and again I called but there was no response.
We had started an orbit over the already burnt-out area of the forest before a deep breathing and obviously excited Ian Wardle answered. I told him we had been very worried having heard nothing since his ‘contact’ call. “Hell, no sweat. We have killed most of the bastards but we think a few got away. It is safe here now. Come on down and take a look. I will have a couple of my men watch the chopper.”
I passed on the good news to Brigade and found a bigenough gap in the trees close to where I saw Ian waving his map. The whole area was burnt out so the helicopter had to be placed on the ground very smartly to limit the swirl of black ash thrown up by rotor-wash. Ian and his men were black from head to toe. The whiteness of eyes and teeth and the pinkness of mouths surrounded by matt-black faces emphasised their huge grins. These were very happy guys who had come through a very noisy though short-lived experience. Ian couldn’t wait to take us, step by step, through every action.
After their water break, the refreshed troops advanced in an echelon formation either side of trackers moving in heavy shade under high trees. Ian was next to the lead tracker when he detected movement under the trunk of a tree that had been pushed over by elephants. His eyes immediately focused on the unmistakable outline of the barrel and bipod of a Russian RPD machine-gun. He opened fire instinctively. The whole callsign joined in as terrorist movements were picked up over an area of no more than thirty meters square, centred on the point where Ian concentrated his fire. Suddenly, from this spot, a double explosion rocked the area and initiated a bush fire.
Retaliation from the terrorists was limited in the face of RAR’s overwhelming firepower and most terrorists died immediately. When firing stopped the force swept cautiously forward. Moaning was heard before it turned to screams as one terrorist, his cloths on fire, emerged from behind another fallen tree. Ian dropped him with one shot and the sweep continued right through the area. When certain that there were no live terrorists around, Ian gathered his men for a site debrief. The men who had been on Ian’s right during the firefight had spotted eight terrorists breaking as a group. They knew they had accounted for three, which Ian found lying some distance from the main group of eight dead men, but five had escaped.
Ian was preparing to continue with the follow-up on the survivors when Brigadier Godwin ordered him to prepare for uplift. A Provost pilot had reported the huge extent of the fire and it had been decided to deploy fresh troops ahead of the survivors who had headed off in a southerly direction, probably running ahead of the fast moving bush fire.
Ian had pushed his men almost ninety kilometres in less than forty-eight hours so, although Ian himself was disappointed at being pulled off, his men deserved a break after a job well done. In the Brigade Officers’ Mess marquee that evening the brigadier invited Ian to recount events for the assembled RAR and Air Force officers. Like many of our Army officers, Ian Wardle’s speech was somewhat affected but his briefing was graphic and amusing. About the burning terrorist incident, he said, “The man was screaming, burning and making a general nuisance of himself, so I shot him.”