Africa's Commandos - new book on the RLI

[JMA]

1968-71 : operations with the Portuguese in Mozambique Part 1


Operation Birthday, November 1968

As a young lieutenant, I was privileged to participate in one of the first of these operations codenamed Op Birthday in November 1968. Sadly, much of the detail of that trip has been lost in the passage of time (another way of saying that I’m suffering from a little bit of ‘old timers’ disease) but I do have some random recollections, together with some photographs, that may help other (more competent) military historians to fill in the blanks.

We left New Sarum in a Dakota and endured the usual long, noisy and uncomfortable flight, landing first in Tete before heading on up to a forward Portuguese base close to the Tanzanian border. As I recall, its name was Cassacatize, although I stand to be corrected on that. There we were, issued with our Portuguese camouflage outfits which included, would you believe, a camouflage shirt. That was something of a novelty as our Rhodesian camouflage at that stage had not progressed beyond camouflage denim trousers. Our Commanding Officer (CO) and team leader, Lieutenant-Colonel (Lt-Col) John Hickman, accompanied by Wing Commander Ken Edwards and with Lt-Col Ted Culbert (as an observer) joined their Portuguese counterparts for a joint planning session.

In the meantime, Lieutenants (Lts) Jerry Strong and Bert Sachse and I went to meet our troops. It was at that point that we gained an understanding of the enormous communication gulf between us and our men. I believe that most of them were cacadores or conscripts from Metropolitan Portugal. They seemed rather amused at our attempts to educate them in fire and movement techniques. Apart from being able to ask for a cold beer, I spoke no Portuguese and they spoke no English. If they did, they were certainly not going to show their hands and I eventually had to resort to giving my instructions in broken schoolboy French which some of them appeared to understand. That said, I still had some serious misgivings about how successful our battle drills might be if we got into a really hot contact.

We assembled that evening for a briefing from John Hickman and were astonished to learn that we were going to be deployed to an area where there was absolutely no indication of any communist terrorist (CT) activity. It seemed that we were going to be kept away from the main infiltration routes. We gained the impression that the CO was having to engage in a certain amount of politicking until he had established a reasonable level of trust with his Portuguese counterparts.

The following morning we were shuttled out in Rhodesian G-Cars to our operational area where we began patrolling. Early rains had fallen and the bush was an Eden of short green grass and unspoilt woodland. The going was easy and the troops relatively responsive to my hand signals even if they insisted on holding their G3s by the muzzles, with the stocks casually resting on their shoulders. The area was a free fire zone and I could see why. The odd village that we found had long since been abandoned, with the occupants either having been moved to the Aldeamentos or having fled to other areas. Meanwhile, Squadron Leader Petter-Boyer was doing what he did best; criss-crossing the area in his Trojan, scanning the terrain below for telltale path patterns. Eventually the word came back that he had found something suspicious and the G-Cars moved in to uplift our patrols and shuttle them to landing zones (LZs) closer to the target zone.

Now, with heightened awareness, we began moving towards the suspected CT camp. Still, the cacadores insisted on holding their weapons by the muzzles. As we moved through the relatively open countryside towards a collection of granite outcrops, it was hard to imagine that we had not been seen. We finally arrived at the target and, sure enough, there, tucked under the trees, was an extensive but deserted camp. We began counting the bashas to see if we could establish the number of occupants but as we continued our search it became more and more apparent that the bulk of the residents were displaced locals and not CTs at all. Tucked in every nook, cranny and crevice of the granite kopje above the camp were all the trappings of civilian men, women and children. It is worth remembering that this was our first exposure to counter-insurgency operations in which the local populace was such a key factor. We had hitherto been fortunate to have conducted most of our operations in Rhodesia in wilderness areas, where the CTs could not benefit from the eyes and ears of a local populace with intimate knowledge of its surroundings. This was a new dimension for us but, in my naivety, I did not envisage such a situation ever developing in Rhodesia. How wrong I was!


to be continued...

[JMA]

1968-71 : operations with the Portuguese in Mozambique Part 2


We recovered as much of the stashed effects as we could for uplift to the forward base. I was amazed to find an excellent Johnson & Johnson medical kit hidden in a crevice and, in line with the rules of the game at that time, I wrote on the tin box that I would like it. Imagine my delight at being handed the box when we returned to the forward base. Someone had the last laugh on me as I discovered that the entire contents of the tin box had been removed and I learned later that the Portuguese troops were allowed to sell the spoils of war to supplement their meagre incomes.

Having by this time established our bona fide, the decision was reached to redeploy us to a hotter area and we were uplifted to another forward base named Cassuende. There we received a report of an ambush on a Portuguese convoy. Although I was not present when the news broke, I am told that the Portuguese colonel rushed up to John Hickman shouting “Good news, good news….we have been ambushed!” We scrambled aboard the G-Cars together with the Special Air Service (SAS) tracking team under Brian (aka Barney Rubble of Flintstones’ fame) Robinson and headed for the scene to start the follow up. We found that one of the convoy’s Berliets had detonated a mine earlier in the day but there was considerable doubt in our minds about the ambush. There were no firing positions to be found and the cacadores lounging around were somewhat vague as to the details of the ‘ambush’. We cast around for some time looking for spoor, to no avail, and we were forced to conclude that the mine had been laid some days before.

The G-Cars began to recover the troops, but the storm clouds were gathering and only one lift of the trackers had taken place before it began to bucket down. Jerry Strong and I sat huddled under a single shelter lightweight, which was all we had between us, and waited for the storm to abate. It didn’t, and we began to regret the indecent haste of our departure from Cassuende with just our weapons and webbing. The old adage, ‘never get separated from your kit’ took on a new and potent meaning as dark grey clouds relentlessly dumped their load on us throughout the rest of the day. All we could see when peeping out of the shelter’s lightweight into the gathering dusk was a thick mist – ‘Harry Clampers’ in Blue Job (air force) terminology - and it was painfully clear that there would be no recovery that night.

Jerry and I debated on how we would be able to get some sleep as the rain continued to hammer, without pity, on the shelter. We were both cold and totally saturated, and we eventually resolved to zip ourselves back-to-back into the shelter’s lightweight and hunker down for what we knew would be a very, very long night. By the time Jerry had wormed his not inconsiderable frame into the shelter, there was almost no room for me and it was with great difficulty that I managed to close the zip. Once that had been achieved we would have made for an interesting sight to any observer, stuck as we were like two peas in a pod, almost unable to move. The situation was not without its hilarity and, of course, the details of that night would lose nothing in the telling. We emerged rather sheepishly from our cocoon the following morning to another grey and miserable day. Having not eaten since leaving Cassacatize, we were more than a little peckish, but we had no option but to sit tight and hope that the clouds would lift. Eventually we received the order to proceed the short distance to the road for uplift by Portuguese convoy. Landmine warfare was something new to us and the sight as we travelled around of the mangled remains of numerous mine-damaged Berliets cemented my resolve to avoid any movement by road. Alas, the alternative was another cold, soggy and hungry day and we needed little persuasion to clamber aboard the Berliet, jostling with the cacadores for somewhere comfortable to sit.
Back at the forward base, there was not much going on. The weather was still clampers and neither PB nor the Alouettes were able to fly. We sat around waiting for something to break, and I very foolishly took off my glasses and picked up a magazine. The next moment there was an ominous ‘crunch’ as someone walked by and, to my horror, there were my glasses lying on the floor with one lens completely shattered. I managed to find a piece of cardboard to place in the frame and went back to the magazine.

The boredom and frustration were palpable but, just when it seemed that nothing would happen that day, we heard several long bursts of automatic fire and even the odd crack and thump from somewhere close by. We leapt to our feet, grabbed our weapons and rushed outside. The cacadores were all milling around but we, in the Rhodesian contingent, quickly formed ourselves into a sweepline and moved out in the direction of the firing. There was something ludicrous about a collection of Rhodesian officers in Portuguese camouflage, advancing on an unseen enemy with their rifles at the ready, being watched disinterestedly by 30 or so Portuguese conscripts. I found myself on the left flank of the sweepline feeling very vulnerable with my cardboard lens and limited vision. I kept having to turn my head all the way round to the left to check the flank at the CO’s almost continuous insistence. The firing had ceased but we kept going and before long we caught a glimpse of Portuguese camouflage through the trees. Something made us hold our fire and it was as well because there, to our utter amazement and disbelief, was a militiaman busy cutting the throat of a cow which he had just finished filling full of lead!
That evening the wind picked up and the clouds gathered again. Shortly after dark the heavens opened and twelve of us Rhodesians ran for the shelter of our large ‘A’ frame tent dug into a pit about one metre deep. We settled down to catch some sleep, but it was not long before the effect of wind and rain formed a large and ominous bulge in the tent roof. As we gingerly tried to manoeuvre the bulge with the muzzles of our rifles, its contents began to pour through everywhere we touched the canvas. It was another long night as the wind howled and we dodged mini cascades and the tent pit inexorably filled up with water.

Again the day dawned grey and miserable and we wandered through the base surveying a scene of utter devastation. Every tent and mortar pit was filled to the brim with water, the mortar barrels poking comically through the murk. The toilet and shower enclosures were all flattened.

Happily, it was time to pack up, and we held a rather inconclusive debrief. On the face of it, and by Rhodesian standards, we had achieved very little. In reality, however, we had been given a priceless insight into the type of war which we would eventually have to fight back on Rhodesian soil. Perhaps, if we had had the prescience to realize that, we might have given much greater emphasis to the part that the local populace would play in future campaigns.

[JMA]

Chris Donald who commanded 3 Commando in 1976 reaffirms where the backbone of any effective combat regiment lies:


So what made 3Cdo so special for me? Success yes, being at the right place at the right time, yes yes yes. We had great troop commanders and just who they were at the time made a significant and substantial impact. However, the role played by our CSM, our sergeants and corporals, from top to bottom, just had to be the difference. They were the continuity, the professional soldiers, and the people who kept the culture, professionalism and family together over the long haul. It is they we were indebted to for what made 3Cdo.

and also:


During my time with 3Cdo the decision was taken to have the RLI as a parachute battalion. When it was our turn to have everyone in the commando parachute trained, the decision of who or which troops were going on the first course and who was going last, was a decision that neither I nor anyone wanted to make. I can’t recall how we solved this but I do remember the first group of men who returned with their wings. They were the centre of attraction and envy of us all with many questions being asked by those who had not yet been trained. As far as the new trained para commandos were concerned, they were now in a league of their own. To say you were now parachute trained and to wear the wings made such a difference to each individual. I am sure many slept with their wings! To be able to make use of this new troop and additional quick troop deployment was not only a learning curve for me but was also a great new enhancement to the way we operated.

[JMA]

RLI troopie brewing up for the lads in the early days of border control:

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8469/8133998786_641fd37146.jpg

[davidbfpo]

One Rhodesian Army commander who visited the Portuguese in Mozambique, on a staff visit before 1974 returned impressed, especially given the constraints upon them - notably resources and geography. A staff visit is very different to the experiences JMA has posted.

Whilst Rhodesia had a long history of black African participation in the police and the army at one point the Portuguese in their campaigning suddenly were able to recruit and field very successful local African units. First in Mozambique and then Angola, IIRC they were called "flechas" and were primarily given the title, if not role of commandos. A very scanty Wiki:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flechas and a wider, better Wiki on Portugal's colonial wars:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Portuguese_Colonial_War

What is often overlooked is how the Portuguese had virtually defeated the nationalist movements in Angola (except a small UNITA) and Mozambique. Portuguese Guinea being the exception. The came the 1974 coup at home and the decision to exit quickly from Africa.

I wonder if inspiration for the Selous Scouts was influenced by this experience?

On a quick check they were formed in 1973:
The Selous Scouts had many Black Rhodesians in their ranks who were from 50%–80% of its ranks...

From:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selous_Scouts

[JMA]

The then Lt Col John Hickman wrote of the Mozambique operations:


On 8 December 1968 the first of a number of attachments to the Portuguese Forces in the Tete Province of Mozambique took place. The objective was to assist the Portuguese in their counter-insurgency war against the Frente de Libertaao de Moambique (FRELIMO), who were then penetrating this area from Malawi and Zambia but for the most part were confined to areas north of the Zambezi River. We in Rhodesia were justifiably concerned about FRELIMO and by association their new allies, Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA) occupying Mozambique, thus opening up the whole of our vulnerable eastern border. The real reason, however, was to stiffen up our allies military resolve to engage the enemy aggressively and demonstrate some of the successful methods of our joint service Counter-Insurgency (COIN) warfare.

Our first deployment was to Bene. This was in fact the Headquarters (HQ) of a cavalry battalion (Batalhao Caadores 2350). Initially, the Army component consisted of combat trackers (two teams from the SAS, myself and several junior officers from the RLI. These were jointly to lead the Portuguese follow-up troops. The Air Force contingent comprised of four helicopters and crews under the redoubtable Squadron Leader Norman Walsh. The ground element was flown to and from Bene by one of our Dakota aircraft. We were all dressed in distinctive Portuguese camouflage and were instructed that this and subsequent missions were rated as Top Secret and that the need to know principle applied, even within our respective units.

Bene is a small village situated northeast of Mt Darwin, approximately halfway between the Zambezi River to the south and the Zambian/Mozambique border to the north. It is about 20kms south of Tembue. The dam wall for Cabora Bassa Dam was under construction at that time. Because of the intensive use of anti-vehicle and anti-personnel mines by FRELIMO in Mozambique, the Rhodesians were warned not to travel by road but to use the helicopters for operational transport. This was not always possible under the conditions pertaining at the time - a heavy rainy season. As a result the ground component spent many nervous hours in the back of Portuguese trucks which only had mostly inadequate sandbags for protection. We certainly learned to be landmine-conscious and more alert.

We soon found that, despite lengthy and time-consuming conventional war type Operation Orders, including such unnecessary data as Start Lines and Phases of Attack, etcetera, that these were seldom applied in a practical sense. In fact, on one occasion an imminent surprise attack on a FRELIMO base was aborted because another phase was due according to the original order. Not to overstate the case, we found that we were making the hard-yard with little or no support from our allies, so much so that the ground troops were reinforced to provide the combat trackers with our own immediate, but limited, support. Some of our operations were described as a turkey shoot for we found that FRELIMO were not accustomed to long, bold and aggressive patrolling and immediate assaults on their bases, no matter the size. The Portuguese troops, on the other hand, when and if they did patrol on foot, were of short duration and insignificant distance. They were often too noisy and appeared to be over-dependant on fresh rations, particularly fresh bread, which dictated the length of their patrols. They also had a definite defensive complex and preferred to barricade themselves in isolated bush forts for the duration of their operational tours and venture forth as little as possible. There they became the victims of intensive mining and ambushing campaigns on the bush tracks linking the forts and subject to frequent
mortar and rocket attacks from a free-moving enemy.

There was a considerable social difference and standing between the Portuguese officers and their men. The former were mainly from the aristocracy, the wealthy or those of good education, while the latter were, for the most part, peasants and treated as such. Again as a generalisation, the officer corps gave us the impression of being aloof and on different strata from those under them. Certainly, there were some of a good calibre by any military standard but most had little liaison with their troops. The bulk of the soldiers were National Servicemen completing a three-year engagement from the Metropolis to a distant African colony that had no attraction for them whatsoever. While immigration was encouraged, the National Servicemen had to return to Lisbon for demobilization and then had to pay their own way back. Few were interested. This dangerous gap between the privileged and the peasants was made obvious in the rural bush forts where, despite the Portuguese love of football, there were seldom any facilities, not even a single goal post to shoot at, to keep the men occupied while in base. Their recreation facilities appeared to be non-existent, not a good feature in maintaining high morale but rather an encouragement to negative attitudes such as boredom and lassitude. To us man-management was seriously lacking.

Norman Walsh and I had got into trouble, and were reprimanded by our respective HQ, for using helicopters to uplift stop groups for vertical envelopment in a contact towards the end of Operation Excess. However, here in Tete and free of the military hierarchy, we used this tactic on several occasions. In one such occasion, the Portuguese had captured a FRELIMO terrorist but were unable to interrogate him for he spoke only Chinyanja (the language of the lakes - Lake Malawi). As he was a fresh capture, I questioned him and learned that his former base was at the junction of two streams fairly close to our operating base. Naturally, he could not indicate the location on our maps for he could not read a map, let alone read or write, but reluctantly agreed that he could indicate the position if we flew down one of the streams. We therefore filled three helicopters with our troops, while a fourth helicopter, piloted by Norman Walsh, with his technician, a fellow 1RLI officer, the captive and me, led the way, at low level, in the vain hope of using the element of surprise, conducting a vertical envelopment on the terrorist base. Not unexpectedly it was all in vain, but an experience nevertheless, with the agitated captive obviously thinking this was a ploy to throw him out of the helicopter. In his terror he was spraying saliva and mucus in all directions which was most unfortunate for I had to remain as close as possible to him in order to hear his directions above the noise of the helicopter. Not so amusing at the time.

Officer Commanding (OC) SAS Major Porky Rich and I alternated as the Army commander on these missions. As far as I can remember - over 40 years ago we conducted operations in Bene (twice more) Furancunco (near the Malawi border), Vasco da Gama, Chicoa, Tembue, Chifombo and several other isolated bush forts near the Zambian border. Besides the Batalhao Caadores 2350, we served with the Batalhao Caadores 2/503 and Regimento Caadores Para Quedistas (I have their pennants) amongst others whose titles I do not now remember. Although I have been critical of the Portuguese Forces operational modus operandi, their hospitality to our teams was always excellent and offered with warmth and courtesy. These attachments did have a lighter side. On one deployment to an unusually primitive fort near the Zambian border, our operations required the use of a radio relay station. We had been joined, as an observer, by a rather pompous, very English, senior officer, who was well known for his not inconsiderable theoretical knowledge of military affairs, but was rather lacking in practical experience. Being short of first-line troops as usual, we issued him with several radios, water and dry rations and sent him by helicopter to the top of a nearby bald granite hill. There he remained, in the blistering valley heat, in a vulnerable and exposed position for the duration of our commitment. As he was fairly pale in complexion and bald into the bargain, he rejoined us looking fiery red, hot and bothered, at least now with more practical experience. Also, Porky Rich and I were mates but not adverse to the odd practical joke against one another.

At one of the final debriefs to the Operations Coordinating Committee, at which the Prime Minister was present, I stated seriously that if the whole 1RLI battalion was deployed we could hold the line of the Zambezi River as a major obstacle in the northwest sector of Tete Province, but obviously, for diplomatic reasons, as well as the military pride of our Portuguese allies, this was impossible. It could have affected ZANLA’s aspirations, at least initially but, with hindsight, with the collapse of the Portuguese Empire, this would only have bought more time. The collapse of the Portuguese in Mozambique was a major, fundamental factor in the unfortunate outcome of our bush-war.

[JMA]

The following two court statement makes for interesting reading, not so much for the events that took place (although contacts are of interest), but for the fact that an experienced Rhodesian Army officer was required, by law, to immerse himself in legal bureaucracy. The fact of the matter is that, even as late as 1974, Rhodesian civil authorities, with heads buried in the sand, still believed the insurgency was a matter that the police and the courts could deal with.


Centenary C. R. 1/3/74: Statement No. ‘......’:

Richard John Alexander Passaportis states:
I am a lieutenant in the Rhodesian army attached to 1 Commando, 1st Battalion of the Rhodesian Light Infantry based in Salisbury.

On Tuesday, 26th February, 1974 I was on operational duties and stationed at Rumange Farm, Centenary. At 0900 hours on this date I received a radio instruction to stand by to give immediate support to a follow-up then in progress between a detachment of the RAR and a gang of terrorists (hereinafter referred to as Ters).

Some 15 minutes later I was uplifted by helicopter, commanded by Lieutenant Anderson, to Stacey’s farm where we arrived at about 10:15am. I had with me a section of three men and radio communications. At Stacey’s farm I was briefed on the position regarding the follow-up. I was then instructed to proceed by helicopter with my men to a grid reference south of Mutungagore Hill where I was to establish a stop line. In the helicopter I was in radio ‘intercom’ contact with the pilot and I overheard instructions being relayed to the pilot of a Provost aircraft to conduct ‘recces’ in the general area where I was to establish my stop line.

Some five minutes later I saw the Provost and I overheard his report that he had spotted a group of some ten Africans dressed in civilian clothing climbing through the fence into a tobacco field. The Provost pilot then stated that he was going down to a lower altitude to have a closer look at this group as at this time he could see no weapons. Still airborne in the helicopter at this time I could not see the group of suspected Ters. However, I saw the Provost going down and then recognized green and red tracer bullets arching up towards it. I heard the Provost pilot report that his aircraft had received bullet hits. I then pinpointed the source of the fire being directed at the Provost and I counted eight Africans in the tobacco field who were directing fire at the Provost. I saw these Africans, now established to be Ters, running in single file between two rows of small tobacco plants.

Lieutenant Anderson then orbited the tobacco field at which stage we also came under automatic fire. I notice one Ter lying on his back aiming an RDP machine gun in our direction and assumed that he was firing at the helicopter, although at this stage we received no hits. I then instructed the helicopter pilot to land and indicated a small ridge about 50 yards southwest of the Ter position. I later ascertained that this action was taking place on Panorama farm. The ridge obscured the helicopter from the Ter position and at this stage no further fire was being directed at us. I noticed the Provost pilot now making strafing runs on the Ter position.

I put my men into extended line and we moved forward towards the Ter position. We were in mopani scrub which afforded a fair amount of cover and managed to get right up to the fence bordering the tobacco field. I climbed through the fence and having taken up a firing position ordered my men to follow. As they were doing so my position came under heavy automatic and semi-automatic fire from the Ter position.

The helicopter, which had now taken off again, then opened fire on the Ter position from directly above me at an altitude of about 100 feet. I then heard the helicopter pilot report receiving hits to his aircraft and I actually heard two metallic strikes on the aircraft from my position. The helicopter then left and took no further part in action that followed.

My position was now coming under very heavy fire and I was pinned down, taking cover behind a furrow. My radio was now only receiving and it could not transmit. The Provost pilot then afforded me covering fire by diving on the Ter position and firing with his front guns. With this cover I then assaulted the Ter position in extended line. I had been pinned down by this time for about four to five minutes. As the Provost ended this strafing run the Ters then began to reappear from the cover they had taken and attempted to redirect fire at my position. We engaged opportunity targets as they presented themselves and swept through the Ter position, noting a number of dead bodies in the process.

I then noticed the Provost pilot conduct another strafing run on a position some 150 yards northeast of my position in the main contact area and I assumed that the Ters had fragmented and the Provost was directing fire at the remnants of the group. I heard the Provost pilot report over the radio that he was engaging two running Ters and during the subsequent sweep of this position located a wounded Ter lying under a tree. This Ter eventually died of his wounds.

I conducted a sweep of the main contact area with my corporal, leaving the two other men to guard the wounded Ter. As I was returning to the main contact area I saw two Ters hobbling off in a southerly direction. Both were dressed in civilian clothing and I noticed the one, who was not wounded, undoing the chest webbing which he was carrying. I called on them to stop which they did. I took possession of the webbing and found that it contained a quantity (I did not count them) of 7.62 intermediate ammunition and one Chinese stick grenade. The other Ter had a leg wound. Neither was carrying weapons at this time and in response to my question they both indicated their weapons lying on the ground among the dead bodies in the main contact area.

I now see the two Ters referred to above as the two accused in this case.

I then examined the main contact area and counted six dead terrorists. I located the following weapons and equipment:

4 AK-47 rifles
5 SKS rifles
large quantity 7.62mm ammunition,

together with the 7.62mm ammunition and a grenade which I took possession of from the accused.

A short time later D/P/O. Bacon, the CID representative arrived at the scene and I handed the above weapons over to him.

I now see that equipment as EXHIBIT ‘……….’:

Signed: R. J. A. Passaportis

D/Inspector K Samler
RLI
27/11/74

[jmm99]

a large segment of the UN and EU legal community believes and asserts that terrorism is a matter that the police and the courts should deal with - and generally work to limit the "War Paradigm" as much as possible.

And, so it goes ....

Regards

Mike

[JMA]

a large segment of the UN and EU legal community believes and asserts that terrorism is a matter that the police and the courts should deal with - and generally work to limit the "War Paradigm" as much as possible.

And, so it goes ....

Regards

Mike

One more for the record:


Richard John Alexander Passaportis states:

I am a lieutenant in the RLI, 1 Commando. Normally based at Salisbury, but at present engaged in ‘operational duties’, in the northeastern border area of Rhodesia. I know the accused Lameck Wandiawona and Felix Takavarasha, only in connection with this case.

On 28th April, 1974 and at first light, approximately 5:45am and acting on instructions received, myself and members of my troop were uplifted by helicopter from Mount Darwin and dropped at an area in the Kandeya Trust Lands at a map reference US453752. The reason for this was that a group of terrorists were believed to be residing in a tin hut at this location.

I carried out an assault on this hut but found it to be empty. At this time helicopters and a Provost aircraft were overhead giving my troop ‘top cover’. I observed one helicopter circling approximately 700 yards to my northeast and then heard a burst of automatic fire from the ground which was directed at the helicopter. With my troop I then ran about 600 yards towards the point that I had heard the automatic fire come from. At this time both helicopters and the Provost were conducting ‘ground strikes’ into the area from where there rifle fire had come from.

I formed my troop into extended line and commenced a frontal sweep into this area which was made up of short mopani shrub. When I reached a position, approximately 50 yards into this scrub, I was fired upon by a burst of automatic fire. Having been in contact with terrorists on numerous occasions I knew this to be rifle fire from a communist AK rifle.

I then deployed one section into ‘fire position’ and instructed them to fire into the bushes from where the fire had come from. I then carried out an assault on this position with the remainder of my section. On reaching a clump of bushes where the fire had come from, I observed a wounded terrorist lying on the ground. This person attempted to bring his weapon round to fire at me and I had no alternative but to shoot and kill him, which I did.

I then received a report over the radio from a helicopter to the effect that further terrorists had been seen running from my position towards the Karuyana River. I then called in the Provost to carry out an air strike on this group prior to my moving in on their position. This the pilot did. I observed the Provost firing into a ridge in a field. I then ordered my machine gunners also to fire at this position; this they did. We then swept through this area.

I there located, in this ridge a wounded terrorist. I now know this person to be Lameck Wandiawona. He was lying on his stomach. I instructed him to be turned over and observed that he was holding a folding-butt AK rifle (no. 601743). I took possession of this weapon. I also observed that he was wearing civilian clothes but over these he wore a terrorist-type ammunition pouch, which contained two fully loaded AK rifle magazines, one clip of ammunition and several loose rounds. He was also wearing a blue anorak.

I now produce that ammunition pouch and the magazines before the court as: EXHIBIT ‘……….’

I then instructed two of my troops to remain with the accused while I carried on with my sweep down to the Karuyana River. A helicopter directed me to an area where we he had fired on a terrorist who was wearing blue clothing. I swept this area for about five minutes and my left-hand section located a wounded terrorist in some thickly wooded rocks. I went to this position.

I there observed a wounded terrorist, who I now know to be Felix Takavarsha. His weapon was lying beside him. It was an AK rifle (no. 14162347). I also observed that he was wearing civilian clothes, a brown hat, but what bought my attention to him was that he was wearing a police reserve jacket. I also observed that he was also wearing a communist-type ammunition pouch which contained rounds of ammunition.

I took possession of this property and now produce it before the court as: EXHIBIT ‘……….’

I then caused the helicopter to land and uplift the two accused and the deceased. The two accused required urgent medical attention. I later handed the two AK rifles, the property of the accused, and the deceased’s AK rifle to Superintendent K. MacDonald of the BSA Police.

During this confrontation with the group of terrorists I cannot say how many rounds of ammunition were fired by the terrorists. I can say, however, that numerous bursts of automatic fire were directed at my troop, the helicopters and the Provost. In fact one such burst passed between me and my troop corporal missing him by inches.

Signed: R. J. A. Passaportis
Mount Darwin,
31st July, 1974

[JMA]

Op Mulligan

Extract from Stick Leader RLI, Just Done Productions Publishing, Durban, 2007, pp 114-117
By Charlie Warren


Op Mulligan took place on 16 June 1979 northwest of Salisbury. I don’t remember where we based as a Fire Force as the call-outs were coming in thick and fast daily, and we were moving from Fire Force base to Fire Force base. This particular call-out was for a group of gooks that had kidnapped a woman by the name of Mrs Mulligan. At the briefing after the siren sounded, we were told that this woman had been kidnapped from one of the farms just north of Salisbury. As she was overweight, she could not keep up with the group of terrorists, so they had stolen a wheelbarrow in which to push her to Mozambique as a prisoner.

The sticks were already at their choppers waiting for the pilots and their stick commanders. While the pilots did their pre-flight checks, the stick commanders briefed their sticks. Little did we know that this was going to be a black day for 3 Commando. The K-Car took the lead and the G-Cars followed in formation, resembling dragonflies flying low searching for water. I had my headphones on to keep up to date with any new information, but it was the normal conversation between the K-Car and G-Car pilots. After about 20 minutes, I heard the K-Car pilot say, “K-Car pulling up,” which meant we were near the contact zone. The K-Car commander was in orbit with the G-Cars flying in orbit below him but there was no sign of any gooks. Eventually, as we were orbiting, we saw a whole lot of villagers sitting in the centre of one kraal. This was unusual as it was not their normal practice, although they had been told countless times that if the choppers orbited their area they should sit where they were and not make any attempt to run (which they usually chose to ignore). The K-Car commander was suspicious and, as we were in the area, he proceeded to put stop groups down around the kraal line about 200 metres away from the kraal where he had seen the sitting villagers. It was at this point that he noticed that there were young males with the usual terrorist dress sitting amongst the villagers. (There were hardly any young males of terrorist age, 16-25, in kraals anymore as they had either left to look for work in the bigger towns or they had been abducted for terrorist training, or had left for terrorist training of their own accord.) While the K-Car was orbiting this kraal, one or two of them made a break for it with their AKs.

The contact was initiated by the 20mm cannon and then there was an eruption of gunfire from all over the contact area. I had been dropped to the east with my stick and told to wait. The other sticks had been dropped north, west and south of the contact zone.

At about 1500hrs while we waiting in the mealie fields outside the kraal, we heard a large contact to our west approximately 300 metres away. The K-Car called the stick leader of the stop group he had dropped there and asked what had happened. There was silence for a while and then the leader came on air to request a casevac for two members of his stick. We didn’t know where the gooks were, and kept our eyes peeled to the west. The K-Car sent a chopper in to uplift the casevacs, but sadly it was to remove the bodies of two of our troopies, Bruce McKend (Rhodesian) and Eike Elsaesser (Canadian). They had been killed in the initial firefight. This we heard over the radio and I couldn’t believe it as we had never lost two soldiers in one contact before. While we were watching the villagers in the centre of the kraal, I saw one young male dressed in blue jeans and a denim jacket starting to get up; then he ran to a hut about ten metres away. While watching him run, I saw he had an AK under his jacket. I told the gunner and the other two riflemen to give me cover from the group of villagers from where this gook had run, and instructed him that if any other gooks made a move from this group, he was to open fire on the whole lot of them. I wasn’t prepared to take the chance of any of my stick being killed or wounded. I ran towards the hut the gook had entered; at the doorway I saw that there was more than one gook in the hut.

I radioed K-Car and told the Officer Commanding what I had seen and that I was outside the hut preparing to throw a bunker bomb through the window. He acknowledged my position and told me to carry on. I pulled the pin of the homemade bunker bomb and lobbed it through the window, but it was a dud and didn’t explode. Then three gooks came running out of the hut firing. I managed to get off two or three rounds at the gooks before the K-Car opened up on them about ten metres from me. The 20mm high explosive (HE) rounds started exploding around me and eventually drew away from me and found their targets. At the time the K-Car was firing at the gooks near me, I felt something like a bee sting on my left hand, but was too busy ‘$hitting’ myself because of the HE rounds exploding near me to care about it. I ran behind the back of the hut to get away from the K-Car fire. I saw my stick, and the gunner was gesturing to me if I wanted them to come to me. All hell had broken out at the doorway of this hut with the gooks’ rounds going off in virtually every direction. I had done a foolish thing by running up to the hut, but had wanted to blow up this gook in the hut with a bunker bomb after hearing about the deaths of Bruce McKend and Eike Elsaesser. I felt flies on my left hand and it was starting to throb and I thought that I had been stung by a wasp. I then took my hand off my rifle to look at the ‘sting’ and saw I was bleeding like a slaughtered pig from between my middle and third finger. My hand was starting to swell and I still couldn’t understand it. I put my hand back on my rifle and winced; I couldn’t grip it properly, so I took my right hand and rubbed my finger over where it was bleeding. I felt something hard and tried to pull it out but it was too painful so I left it.

There were contacts taking place all around this kraal and the group of villagers started running in every direction, a lot of them being killed and wounded in the crossfire. The K-Car ordered my stick to sweep towards the village in a westerly direction, and then do an about-turn and return to the village, which we did. When my stick reached the village and we had cleared our area of sweep, I asked the troopie carrying the medic’s kit to clean my hand properly with water, so that I could see what was stuck there. Once he had started pouring water over it and rubbing the drying blood of the wound, I could see that it was a piece of shrapnel from the K-Car’s 20mm cannon. I told him to pour some Acriflavine on the wound to prevent infection even though this was about 30 minutes later. The Acriflavine hurt more than the shrapnel and I told him to stop. He covered my hand with a field dressing. I had no feeling in my hand anymore (bar the throbbing). I asked him to give me a couple of paracetamol tablets for the pain and swallowed them with some water. I contacted the K-Car commander and told him what had happened and that I couldn’t use my rifle as I had no feeling in my left hand. He shat all over me for taking so long to tell him that I was wounded, and told me to leave my stick with the 12 Troop stick commander who had lost two members of his stick in the initial firefight, and then to pick up a captive and take him with me for uplift to return to base.

As I couldn't grip my rifle properly, I slung it over my shoulder and took out my 9mm pistol. I made sure the captive had his hands tied and went to the mealie field not far from the contact zone and called the chopper in to pick up the captive and myself, which he did and just before last light. Back at the base, I was sent to the camp doctor who gave me a lignocaine injection in my hand as well as a shot of penicillin for the infection, and a few painkillers. While he waited for the lignocaine to take effect, he went out to dispense some medicine to someone who was sick in the wards. He came back and put on a surgical mask, picked up a long pair of steel tweezers shaped like a pair of scissors, and told me to look away. I looked in the other direction and could feel him working on my hand. I looked at him and then my hand, and saw he had these tweezers halfway into my hand and was trying to pull the shrapnel out. After I had seen this I started to feel the pain, even though he had deadened the area with lignocaine. He eventually told me that I would have to go to Salisbury for X-Rays and they would remove the shrapnel after examining the X-Rays.

I went back to Salisbury the next day with the duty vehicle. I had the X-Rays taken and the shrapnel removed at Andrew Fleming Hospital the following day. I was put on light duties for about a week, but returned to the bush to do them as I didn’t want to do battalion orderly sergeant duties at the RLI Barracks while on light duties as there was too much crap involved in barracks.

It was a sad day for the commando on the day of the Mulligan contact when we lost two fine soldiers in the prime of their lives. We never found the woman (Mrs Mulligan) that day as we had hit the group who was waiting to take her over for transport to Mozambique.

It was to be exactly a month to the day and year, when we were to lose another two good soldiers from the commando in a totally different part of the country - Buffalo Range.

[JMA]

First contact, first kill



A young Rhodesian troopie, who joined 2 Commando in May 1979, remembers some good times, and some bad:

…The passing out parade went well. For me this meant that I managed not to pass out! A few days earlier an abscess had burst in my mouth and as a result I was as sick as a dog, having swallowed a whole lot of pus. I remember little of the parade, and nothing of what anyone said, except that as we left the parade ground and marched around the holy ground we passed Sergeant Hodgson BCR. He was looking rather pleased with himself and said, “Well done, girls!” High praise indeed! The sergeant had been Blue Squad’s instructor for most of the course—a rather terrifying one but a good one nonetheless (not one of this Blue Squad was killed over the next nine months). A few days’ leave and then we took up residence in 2 Commando, looking very raw and self-conscious with our new stable belts and silver badges on our berets.

First contact: The next day we left for Grand Reef to join the rest of the commando. Once there the first few hours consisted of people having fun at our expense. ‘General’ Lovemore introduced himself very confidently. He turned out to be one of the batmen. Some corporal sent one of us to get some 12.7 chest webbing from the quartermaster—just making us feel welcome! Once settled in we were quickly allocated to sticks and did not have to wait long before the commando was called out by a Selous Scout call-sign (we would soon learn that these usually were not lemons). I was in a helicopter stick and nothing in life to that point had come near to the thrill of taxiing off down the runway to go to war. You could always tell the new troopies—they were the ones holding on in the helicopter, yet to realize that they could not fall out of an Alouette. (In time one came to trust this fact implicitly and sat with both hands on the rifle no matter what the pilot did.) So this day I held on—but it was still a glorious ride and my nervousness just made it all the more exciting. We touched down (all the way this time) and jumped out running to cover, eye on the corporal. He was quickly onto his radio and we then joined up with another stick and began to sweep down the side of a stream with the poor corporal desperately trying to stop us rookies from bunching.

Suddenly all hell broke loose on our right flank (the one closest to the stream). We dropped down for a moment and then the corporal shouted at us to follow him and we wheeled right and headed for the noise. I have no idea how he knew to do this but we soon arrived on the edge of the stream and the corporal and other experienced troopies added their firing to the bedlam. I could see nothing to shoot at (or maybe I was just too scared to lift my head high enough). Eventually the firing stopped and we went down into the stream. About eight bodies lay there, most being terrorists. I stepped over the body of a young woman. She had no webbing—a civilian. For the first time I saw what destruction a 7.62 long round caused to a frail human body and smelt that smell which means violent death. As I approached a body on the far side of the stream I got the fright of my life as the terrorist sudden turned his head, sat up a bit and looked at me from about one metre. My rifle was pointed at him and I hate to think what expression he saw on my face. He tried to say something—begging for mercy I think. I will never know for the corporal shot him from right next to me before I had time to wonder about mercy in this new world of violence. I will never forget the terr’s body slowly sagging down to the ground again, his last breath hissing out of his lips—a welcome from him to me to men’s madness.

“Take off his webbing!” ordered the corporal and left me to this grizzly task. I had never seen a dead person before and now I must remove webbing from a smashed body who just a moment before had looked at me with such pleading eyes? I must have gone about it too gently for someone told me, not so gently, to get on with it and came over and helped rip it off, caring nothing for what had been a human. One of our guys had been wounded in the contact. It was not serious, ‘just’ a flesh wound, but he was in a lot of pain and spitting mad! We sorted him out and then, gathering the weapons and ammunition (and any money, watches etc. going), left the bodies and made our way back to the LZ.

As we flew out it was as if my world had changed forever. But I did not realize that that was still to come, for none of those bodies had my bullets in them.

[JMA]

Boys will be boys....

Bruce McGregor:


Women in commando lines

Men are men. In the military services men are drilled, chased, moulded and turned into better men. The RLI was certainly no exception. Did it make us into better lovers? I doubt it - but nature delivers a broad average that guarantees our survival; there is a woman for every man and vice versa – so if a woman does not find you attractive, she may well find your friend so, even if you felt that he was so ugly that when he was born the doctors did not know which end to slap. Little wonder then that there were some women who were sufficiently drawn by the RLI manhood to venture into the barracks and (more than) fraternize with the men.

Standing orders prohibited the entertainment of women within the commando lines, without exception. But such is the hormonal magnetism between the sexes that this rule was broken time and again. One would hear the stories, most of them expanded upon. I remember one tale where there was a woman – with a dog – in the corporal’s room just before the Officer Commanding’s (OC’s) inspection and she threatened to let the dog loose on him if he left her to attend the inspection. There was another tale where a woman was pushed through the trap door in the ceiling to hide her from the officers during inspection. Apparently she stayed there for a week with food from the mess being brought to her daily. Maybe it was the same woman but where would they have put her dog? How about the woman who came into training troop line and went through the entire barracks? This woman would have to be deranged in some sick way to have a libido like that. On the other hand she may have come in with a man expecting something more private and romantic but received quite a surprise, but of one thing I am sure: no woman in her right mind could expect to go into an army barracks line at night and be guaranteed a quiet uninterrupted night with the man of her choice. There are more realistic stories like the woman who would be sneaked in and out by an arrangement with the guard at the front gate to ‘look the other way’ but this would really need to be a wholly nighttime operation.

It was common knowledge that one particular woman would arrive at night and sleep with the base orderly sergeant. There was also the trooper who had a girl in the line and they overslept. He could not get her out through the gates because the sun had already driven the last shadows from the landscape and the Saturday was well under way. The only thing he could do was to throw a blanket over the fence at the back of the Base Group car park and lift her over into the veld beyond. Apparently, he was at the fence and about to give her the lift up when all his friends lent out the Base Group windows and shouted “Ah haaa!” and in a panic the lift became a shunt and she flew over the fence. Talk about an undignified exit.

Certainly these clandestine intrigues would not go unnoticed by the powers that be and I remember one morning the entire group was mustered to parade before the Company Sergeant-Major (CSM) ‘Rockjaw’ Kirrane who proceeded to explain both the medical and future financial consequences (no doubt under the direction of the OC) of bringing women into the lines.

Kirrane was also a bit of a legend. Some of us always used to joke that he would get up in the morning, do his ablutions, put on his uniform, and then get his wife to iron him before reporting for duty. But I digress.

The tales were many but on a particular night I was the duty driver for the battalion. My duty was with a few non-commissioned officers (NCOs) who I knew were unforgiving about any woman within the lines – probably because they were not getting any action themselves.

Back in 2Cdo lines Trooper (Tpr) Price was under open arrest. For what, I don’t remember. It was ironic, though, that his brother was in the Military Police and was notorious for his uncompromising attitude toward RLI drivers. But I digress … again.

Tpr Price and I had become friends when I picked him up after he had reported to the guardroom for the evening and took him back to his lines. The commando was out in the bush at the time and there was nobody around the commando but him. He invited me to the barrack room promising to show me something really wild. I went with him and he opened the door and there in his bed was the girl well known by the battalion. No name, no pack drill – she was known by some of the men as ‘Psst!’ as this was the way she would attract attention when she wanted to come into the front gate. Well finally there was truth in the stories. He then asked me a favour. The next day was Monday, and some of the men would be returning from the weekend and he was under open arrest. If they caught her there, his short-term outlook on life would certainly go downhill. Could I sneak her out of the barracks and take her home to Avondale? How the hell would I do that? I was not allowed out of the battalion with an army vehicle unless I had been assigned a task – but I assured him that I would see what I could do.

Fortunately I established that on my roster of duties there was an officer who had to get to KGVI Barracks (King George VI) early the next morning and I would have to take him. Perfect! Morning came and I took tea down to the guards in the magazine and then, on the pretext of taking the tea urn back to the kitchen, I raced down to pick up the girl. I pulled into 2Cdo lines and hooted quickly three times, a pre-arranged signal. Price brought her out and we stuck her under a tarpaulin in the back of the Land Rover. I then drove to the officers’ mess to pick up the officer. When I got there and presented myself as his driver, he informed me that I was no longer required because he had a lift with someone else. Oh my God! Here I am stuck with a girl in the back of my vehicle with no reason to leave the battalion. To compound matters, I was due to knock off in an hour and would have to return the vehicle back to the pool. Not good! She was not my problem, I figured, so I drove back to 2Cdo with every intention of giving her back only to find that the lines were now well represented with men and NCOs. Returning her to Tpr Price was not an option. Boy! What a pickle I was in. I remember thinking, “I did not get any sex last night but I’m still f---ed!”

I was driving up the back of 1Cdo and noticed that the regimental police were already on duty at the back gate and on duty was a regimental policeman (RP) NCO that I was on good terms with, so I pulled up at the back gate and said, “Howzit? (no name no pack drill) I have ‘Psst!’ in the back of my vehicle and I have to dump her, please help me”. He thought I was bull$hitting of course and demanded to see the evidence. OK, why not? I lifted the tarpaulin and the RP saw for himself, not once, but a few times because he needed to get back to his post to raise the boom for personnel arriving to work in their cars. He said to her, “$hit! You’re an ugly bitch first thing in the morning” and then turned to me and asked me how I was able to get her for the night when I had to sleep at the guardroom. I explained to him that she was not with me but apart from the fact it was a sergeant, I could not tell him. He said, “OK! But if you are caught I will say that you lied to me that you had to pick up someone”. I said this was not an issue as my authority to travel had already been signed by the base orderly sergeant to drive an officer to KGVI. Without another word he turned and lifted the boom. I got into the vehicle and drove out of the battalion.

I took her home and returned to Cranborne without further incident. The things friends do for friends.

[JMA]

The Mount darwin Fire Force Base:

http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8490/8165512489_42e4e85db3.jpg

[BayonetBrant]

Any word from JMA? Anyone heard from him since November? I hope nothing's happened, but fearing the worst... :(

[davidbfpo]

Rest easy. JMA is working away from home into next month; we exchanged emails just before Xmas. I don't think he has time to view SWC, but does pick up emails.

[BayonetBrant]

That's great to hear. Thanks for the quick update. Given the nature of the work of many folks here, when someone drops off the 'net for a while, you're never sure what happened. I know JMA's operational days were quite some time ago, but you still wonder.

Thanks again

[BayonetBrant]

I don't recall seeing it mentioned anywhere, but will there be an electronic copy of the book available?

[davidbfpo]

I'd be surprised if the JMA team would go that far. Originally the project was envisaged as a book for ex-RLI members and families, hence the small print run and being sold privately.

Anyway JMA will appear here one day to give the answer.

[BayonetBrant]

any updates on the book, or JMA?

[davidbfpo]

JMA is alive and well I can report. He is working hard in security in a new place, not very new for him as he's been there for at least eight months IIRC. It appears he no longer checks in on SWC.

Back to the book itself. Since the book is very much a photo gallery, with accompanying text, plus the size I doubt it will become an e-book.

[jmm99]

... finally ... and it sits per USPS tracking in the Houghton post office, 2.5 miles away. So, I should get it Monday. :cool:

Regards

Mike

[BayonetBrant]

... finally ... and it sits per USPS tracking in the Houghton post office, 2.5 miles away. So, I should get it Monday. :cool:

Regards

Mike

Mine should be in today or tomorrow :)

[BayonetBrant]

Book arrived yesterday. Hard to put it down - dammitall for having to work in the mornings!

[BayonetBrant]

review posted at GrogHeads.com

http://grogheads.com/?p=2294

Link to buy with Amazon, which means SWJ get a referral fee:http://smallwarsjournal.com/content/support

[JMA]

I surface above the jungle canopy of West Africa to express my thanks for the review. As the 2nd edition of the book has now appeared as a mainstream publication the challenges of obtaining a copy should now be a thing of the past. The royalties still go to the regimental association where they are applied to serve an ageing membership, some with residual PTSD issues. Thank you for your support.

[Stan]

Hey Bro !

While I have numerous pathetic excuses for not posting, I am indeed glad to see you are back and pesky as ever before :D

I have enjoyed your posts and the unique look at your past in what we consider the dark continent.

Welcome back !

Regards, Stan

[jmm99]

It's resurrected !! Presumably, it's still "rather serious" regardless of locale. :D

I'll confine myself to a brief review of the literary genre.

But, first off, my initial remarks apply to the hardcover version, which is a high quality production in both binding and paper quality. As such, it reminds one of the Sarpedon-Spellmount republications (1996 & 1997) of Rudyard Kipling's monumental histories of the two WWI Irish Guard battalions, "The Irish Guards in the Great War" (1st Bn (http://www.amazon.com/The-Irish-Guards-Great-War/dp/1885119380) and 2nd Bn (http://www.amazon.com/Irish-Guards-Great-War-Battalion/dp/1873376839)). The color plates are very well done, for example; and text (as opposed to the illustrative photos) abounds. In short, this is not a coffeetable photo gallery book; it is very content oriented.

Kipling's histories exemplify one way to approach unit histories - start at the beginning and write what, in essence, is an after action report. I find nothing wrong with that (the history of my dad's WWII battalion and its companies follows that method). It does, however, tend to an impersonal presentation.

The other approach is to present a series of oral histories - e.g., Al Santoli's Vietnam books (http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=al%20santoli%20vietnam) and Lyn Macdonald's WWI books (http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=lyn%20macdonald%20). Many others of this genre could be listed. It seems the "modern" approach.

It's use in unit histories, however, runs back at least to the 1930s. The earliest I have in unit histories (as opposed to autobios, bios and fiction) is Dunn's "The War the Infantry Knew 1914-1919 (http://www.amazon.com/Infantry-Knew-1914-1919-History-Greats/dp/0349106355)", which supplements his own diary with numerous recollections written by members of the 2nd Batt., Royal Welch Fusiliers (including Sassoon and Graves). Africa's Commandos is a more polished product than Dunn's - e.g., compare Dunn's "plates" (quite primitive).

So, all in all, an outstanding effort.

Regards

Mike

[JMA]

Hi Stan good to hear from you.

Will be in and out as not always online... yes there are still places in the world where the WWW has not reached.

Interesting note on West Africa is that the wars here are seldom army against army but rather the winner is the side that butchers enough of the other side's civilians until they capitulate.

More to talk about in due course.

regards
Mark



Hey Bro !

While I have numerous pathetic excuses for not posting, I am indeed glad to see you are back and pesky as ever before :D

I have enjoyed your posts and the unique look at your past in what we consider the dark continent.

Welcome back !

Regards, Stan

[JMA]

Thanks Mike,

Initially it was difficult to select the form the book should take. The initial idea was that I would request personal accounts far and wide and then write the narrative myself which would compliment a larger number of photos.

Two things led to a change. One was that we did not have a sequence of photos that could merely be connected with text. Cameras were not allowed on ops and I continue to be surprised how many photos actually came out of the war.

Secondly the contributions I received were very personal, sometimes emotional and always heartfelt. Who was I then to take those stories and put them in my words. We agreed that the text editor would use a light hand to retain as much of the original contribution's grammatical and emotional impact as possible. I hope that worked in that each of the 'stories' has a unique flavour to it. The reader be the judge.

I am looking to do a follow up with perhaps emphasis upon tactical aspects of the war again drawing from those who knew best. We shall see.

regards
Mark



It's resurrected !! Presumably, it's still "rather serious" regardless of locale. :D

I'll confine myself to a brief review of the literary genre.

But, first off, my initial remarks apply to the hardcover version, which is a high quality production in both binding and paper quality. As such, it reminds one of the Sarpedon-Spellmount republications (1996 & 1997) of Rudyard Kipling's monumental histories of the two WWI Irish Guard battalions, "The Irish Guards in the Great War" (1st Bn (http://www.amazon.com/The-Irish-Guards-Great-War/dp/1885119380) and 2nd Bn (http://www.amazon.com/Irish-Guards-Great-War-Battalion/dp/1873376839)). The color plates are very well done, for example; and text (as opposed to the illustrative photos) abounds. In short, this is not a coffeetable photo gallery book; it is very content oriented.

Kipling's histories exemplify one way to approach unit histories - start at the beginning and write what, in essence, is an after action report. I find nothing wrong with that (the history of my dad's WWII battalion and its companies follows that method). It does, however, tend to an impersonal presentation.

The other approach is to present a series of oral histories - e.g., Al Santoli's Vietnam books (http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=al%20santoli%20vietnam) and Lyn Macdonald's WWI books (http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=lyn%20macdonald%20). Many others of this genre could be listed. It seems the "modern" approach.

It's use in unit histories, however, runs back at least to the 1930s. The earliest I have in unit histories (as opposed to autobios, bios and fiction) is Dunn's "The War the Infantry Knew 1914-1919 (http://www.amazon.com/Infantry-Knew-1914-1919-History-Greats/dp/0349106355)", which supplements his own diary with numerous recollections written by members of the 2nd Batt., Royal Welch Fusiliers (including Sassoon and Graves). Africa's Commandos is a more polished product than Dunn's - e.g., compare Dunn's "plates" (quite primitive).

So, all in all, an outstanding effort.

Regards

Mike

[JMA]

Mike, sincere thanks for posting a review on Amazon.com. Much appreciated.
Regards
Mark

[BayonetBrant]

I surface above the jungle canopy of West Africa to express my thanks for the review. As the 2nd edition of the book has now appeared as a mainstream publication the challenges of obtaining a copy should now be a thing of the past. The royalties still go to the regimental association where they are applied to serve an ageing membership, some with residual PTSD issues. Thank you for your support.

Glad to support both the cause and the history behind it. It's a fantastic book that's worthy of whatever praise can be heaped on it.

[JMA]

Glad to support both the cause and the history behind it. It's a fantastic book that's worthy of whatever praise can be heaped on it.

Your comments are appreciated as is the posting of your grogheads.com review on amazon.com

Many thanks