Africa's Commandos - new book on the RLI

[JMA]

Lt Mike Rich recalls:

2Cdo were woken at 0300hrs on D Day, Wednesday, 23 November 1977, and drove from Grand Reef to Lake Alexander in the mountainous Eastern Highlands terrain adjacent to the Mozambique border. The vehicles arrived in the early morning light to an incredible sight. Thirty-two helicopters stood scattered on the grassy shores of the picturesque lake like a swarm of giant dragonflies. For those of us used to Fire Force deployments of four choppers, this spectacle was quite awe-inspiring.

We took off en masse, ten G-Cars carrying the 2Cdo troops; ten K-Cars; two command helicopters and ten G-Cars carrying the Support Commando troops detailed to man the forward admin base and ferry in fuel and supplies to the target area.

The flight provided us with some impressive and memorable visuals. All 32 helicopters were flying in single file through the majestic Penhalonga Mountains, some of the most magnificent terrain in the world. The troops gazed in awe at the spectacle as they leaned out of the Alouettes and looked around.

Two or three Canberras thundered low over us en route to their targets. For a few minutes there was the amazing sight of the command helicopters and the ten K-Cars peeling off in front of us to position over their allocated targets; the six paradaks dropping the 3Cdo and the SAS paratroopers; and the Hunters diving in on their targets. The air was thick with dust and smoke and the streaks of SNEB rocket trails.

As our helicopters descended, we could see the enemy fleeing towards us, away from the conflagration, and immediately upon landing we began having contacts with them. We were positioned with 6 Troop and 10 Troop on the left on the sweepline, under the command of Vernon Prinsloo and Bob Halkett respectively; my father and Simon Haarhoff in the centre; my troop, 7 Troop, were to their right, and to the far right of the commando line was Graeme Murdoch’s 8 Troop. Graeme’s men had been dropped in a single landing zone a short distance away from us, and took almost an hour to fight their way back through the retreating enemy to RV with the rest of the commando.

[JMA]

Major Simon Haarhoff recalls:

Well before dawn the convoy left Grand Reef for Lake Alexander, which was the rendezvous (RV) point with the helicopters. When the troops arrived at Lake Alexander final checks and briefings were concluded and sticks positioned on the LZ awaiting the helicopters. The helicopters arrived as per schedule and with minimum fuss loaded up and headed out for Chimoio.

As always they kept just above treetop level and everyone was keenly watching and waiting for the start of the operation. As the helicopters flew around the northern end of the camps to position the sticks there was a great view of the start of the operation. In the centre there was a swarm of angry bees – the Air Force’s entire strike capability throwing any and every ordnance they could carry into the camp area. While this was going on the fleet of Dakotas were dropping streams of paras on the periphery of the camps. A truly remarkable sight and it filled one with awe. The helicopters were flying too low to see anything going on at ground level, so there was no indication of what may have been awaiting the sticks.

The 2Cdo sticks were dropped in a series of LZs behind a low ridge between the helicopters and the main camp areas. The orders were to move forward to the ridge, take up positions and await further orders from the commanding K-Car controlling the operation. The G-Cars left immediately they had discharged the sticks and returned to other tasks. The sticks moved on to the ridge, took up position over an area of about 300 yards and waited.

Within minutes firing started all along the line of sticks as terrs began breaking cover in front of the ridge and were picked off. It was like a badly organized turkey shoot with the Air Force as the beaters and 2Cdo as the shooters. Surprise was again complete as all the terrs were looking over their shoulders at the camp areas and the commotion caused by the Air Force.

After a relatively short time the number of terrs running into the 2Cdo position decreased as they heard the firing and realized that there were Rhodesian troops ahead. After the initial flurry it became quiet and not much action was taking place. This was not the case with the SAS and 3Cdo sticks that had dropped in and it was apparent from the command radio that a lot of action was taking place in other areas.

[JMA]

Lt Mark Adams remembers:

On the run-in to the target Cpl Bob Smith, ex-Brit Paras, of 11 Troop was standing in the door (being the first man to jump). He turned and shouted back into the aircraft that he could see the airstrikes going in and they looked, “Fooking greeat!” Then there was the cracking sound of rounds passing close by our aircraft which tended to focus the minds of all in the Dak. The red light switched to green and we were out the door and the game was on.

My Fire Force experience made me familiar with the sounds of a single gunship firing but here we had ten. This was one big Fire Force operation. A very big one. I remember the green grass growing under the trees through which I crashed to land. It was after all November and the rains had started. The one thing learned pretty quickly on Fire Force was who and what was firing (in terms of the weapons and who was likely to be pulling the trigger) and whether it should be taken personally. What did help in this identification was that our weapons, the FN rifle and the FN MAG light machine-gun, and theirs, the AK47 assault rifle and mainly the RPD light machine- gun, made a distinctive sound when firing. To a combat seasoned ear the weapon being fired could be easily identified.

There was a lot of firing. The gunships with their 20mm cannons were letting rip. Watching the little Alouettes buck as the 20mm cannons were fired with the puffs of smoke gave a good indication why the gunners had to fire short bursts only. Fascinating. The gooks were returning fire with their AKs, and their green tracer could be seen reaching out into the sky, if the angle was right. Then there was the sound of the enemy 12.7 and 14.5mm heavy machine-guns firing, a new and ominous sound to me at the time. Then into the mix were the menacing sounds of the multiple Soviet origin RPD light machine-guns, carried by choice by C Squadron SAS who were obviously very ‘busy’. It was somewhat confusing to our RLI ears but we had to adjust our response accordingly.

On the way to the ground a number of the troopies received bullet holes in their parachutes. Luckily the gooks were not able to figure out how to lead off when aiming at this moving target of a paratrooper which was dropping and drifting at the same time.

[JMA]

Mike Kelso - an American, now a retired CSM and member of the Ranger Hall of Fame - remembers back in the day:

“Participating in Op Dingo-Zulu One was a highlight of my career. One of the things that stand to mind was the close proximity of the close air support as we conducted the para assault. I was in Sgt Derrick Taylor’s stick and with L/Cpl Grant Hughes was an anti-tank team. Hughes carried a RPG7 (Soviet made rocket launcher) and two rockets while I carried two rockets and a Soviet AT (anti-tank) mine. We were the only two carrying rucks (rucksacks) and, of course, were the last two to exit the paradak. Most of the sticks were long gone by the time we got to the door. As my chute inflated directly overhead the Hunters and Vampires were making their gun runs. I would swear the jets were not 100 feet above my canopy. Quite a thrilling sight.”

[JMA]

Major Jerry Strong remembers:

“As I had not jumped for a considerable time I threw rank and ensured I would be first out of the aircraft when the green light came on. Flight Sergeant Wiltshire was the Parachute Jump Instructor (PJI) and as we neared the target area he kept shouting, “It’s looking good chaps, it’s looking good!” whereupon another two or three troopies would throw up! I couldn’t wait to jump and after what seemed an eternity we were told to “stand up, hook up and check equipment”. Pretending to know what I was doing I fumbled around and shouted “number 2 OK!” and then stood to the door. As I looked around I beheld an incredible sight. The Hunters (Hawker Hunter jets) were screaming into the target area which was ablaze with fire and smoke. There was ack-ack flack exploding all around us – it was complete pandemonium and it looked just like something out of a Stephen Spielberg movie. I now really wanted to leave the aircraft in a hurry and as soon as the green light came on, I jumped. My chute opened - thankfully with no twists - and there I was floating down to Mother Earth. My surreal experience was abruptly curtailed as I suddenly realized I was being fired on by a terrorist in a tree which I had earmarked to aim for to help break my fall! I landed like a sack of potatoes nearby and was relieved to hear L/Cpl White thud into the ground next to me. As he was a machine-gunner I had ensured he was next out of the Dak after me and within seconds he had let off a short burst at the guy who had been firing at us from the tree, resulting in him coming crashing down – our first kill!”

[JMA]

Corporal Jimmy Swan continues:

As we came over the last rise, we pulled up off the trees and broke into a circle on the outer perimeter at approximately 1,000 feet. As we looked out, it was Armageddon all over. Just flashes, smoke and miniature people running. The stench of napalm was incredible. We now had light and it was a perfect day to kill. Before we knew it, the choppers were coming in at pace, hitting the ground with some force. Already half-leaning out as we hit, we jumped down and ran for cover, expecting ground fire. We dashed into cover in our normal 360-degree formation, protecting ourselves and the choppers, who always gave us the thumbs-up on departure.

We kneeled at the ready, eyes keenly peeled and waiting for instructions to either get into stop positions or the okay to start the sweep. To our left, more choppers came in, more 2Cdo troops, and then one of my guys hissed, “Corp, check the paras.” We could only see the odd aircraft on the horizon, but like miniatures, the paras dropped from the Daks, completing the box cordon. We felt we were untouchable.

[JMA]

Lt Mike Rich continues:

The entire day was a hectic blur of contacts, airstrikes and general mayhem. After the initial contacts with the fleeing terrs, subsequent sweepline contacts were mainly initiated at close quarters, with the gooks well hidden in thick undergrowth, huts and trenches. It seemed as though they would only fire once you were almost upon them. Clearing likely hiding places with small-arms fire and grenades was the order of the day. Amongst the chaos we had a close call when a wayward rocket from a Vampire overshot its target and landed right in front of us. Thankfully no-one was hurt.

The unique experience of fighting in action with my father cannot easily be explained. Thousands of fathers must have seen their sons off to war and feared for their safety, but I am certain that very few have literally fought shoulder to shoulder in combat with them. There was more than the occasional glance between us to see if the other was OK. My father later recounted the experience with his legendary sense of humour by commenting that he had noticed with disappointment (as a cool old hand, of course) that I tended to snatch the trigger when firing! Well, it wasn’t exactly bisley! His presence was a tonic to us all. His humour was ever present as he typically lamented the absence of tea breaks during the battle, and quickly lit up a Matinee cigarette during any pause in proceedings.

[JMA]

Lt Mark Adams continues:

I loved the welcome and reassuring sound of our beloved FN MAG light machine- gun. In the RLI we carried one MAG in each stick of four men. In the hands of a skilled gunner the controlled bursts fired mainly from the hip were a mean and effective ‘gook killer’. As we moved forward the sounds of firing from up and down the sweepline kept up a steady rhythm. On that day hundreds of gooks found out, to their cost, that the one place you did not want to get caught was in front of an advancing SAS or RLI sweepline.

We were building up a nice momentum moving forward towards the main gate and the main camp headquarters area.

Corporal Tony Coom recalls:

“The battle found our sweepline soon and bullets started cracking around us, coming from the bush to our front. Lt Adams was full of spirit and screamed to advance and fight through and all that spirited stuff. In the confusion you just follow the crowd, double tapping (firing two quick single shots) at likely hiding places and really hoping that the idiot opposing you was more confused than you were…”

[JMA]

While this book - Africa's Commandos - relates to the RLI, on Op Dingo 96 paras from C Squadron, SAS were involved. Their role should not be underestimated and can be found in other books.

Another extract from this book:

OPERATION DINGO: Rhodesian Raid on Chimoio and Tembue' 1977

... The tracer fire spitting at them through the billowing smoke from the burning camps, failed to distract the six Dakota pilots as they flew their aircraft, steadily maintaining an altitude of 450 feet above ground, along their allotted sections of the dropping zone, disgorging paratroopers. Almost as they opened, the dull green parachutes floated rapidly down into the trees.

... Corporal Charlie Warren of Stop 2 and MAG gunner, Trooper Keith White, were still in the air when they came under fire from a dozen ZANLA cadres running at them. Warren drew and returned fire with his 9mm pistol. This distracted him and he did not have time to adopt the correct flex-kneed stance before hitting the ground hard. Winded, sucking for breath, he pulled his rifle free of his parachute harness and, still under fire, dived into cover. From there, he opened fire on a group running 200 metres to his front. He then linked up with Major Jeremy Strong and White, their 3 Commando officer commanding.

Although he landed safely, Trooper Mike McDonald’s parachute, snagged in a small tree, became the target for considerable fire from a bushy streambank 70 metres away across intervening flat open ground.

By contrast, Stop 1, the first down, had enjoyed a peaceful landing into the scrub, so had the last down, Stops 5 and 6, dropped along the northeastern leg. All along the five-kilometre cordon paratroopers unbuckled and cached their parachutes and formed up in their four-man sticks, with ten metres between men, ready for action. To protect their rear, Sergeant Derrick Taylor and the three men of his stick moved to mine and ambush the road to the southwest to hold up any FPLM reaction force coming to the aid of ZANLA.

Ahead of the thin line of Rhodesian troops, the Alouette K-Cars were hammering the camp complexes with short staccato bursts of cannon fire.

... The attack was not yet 15 minutes old but among the shattered buildings and burning huts lay hundreds of dead, wounded or stunned ZANLA personnel. When the Rhodesian troops reached it later, the rows of bodies lying on the parade ground reminded Lt John Cronin of a field of mown corn.

,

[JMA]

Major Jerry Strong continues:

“We started to advance towards the burning buildings in the target area – but had to cross an open ploughed field to get there. In the middle was an anthill with a few thorn trees around it and from which we came under heavy fire from a 12.7 anti-aircraft gun. I immediately pretended I was a mole and desperately tried to hide myself in the ploughed furrows in which I found myself. Over the radio, I asked for air support and was given a channel and callsign to contact which I duly did. Much to my delight, I recognised the voice of the vampire pilot who answered my call for help, an old friend one Toll Janeke. After exchanging a few pleasantries I explained to him the dilemma I and my callsign were in. Instructing me to mark our position and to talk him on to the target, he duly came screaming in, rockets firing and guns blazing. The anthill disintegrated before my eyes, with bodies and gun being blown into the air – a real D-Day scenario. Our advance then proceeded uninterrupted and shortly after we successfully reached our objective.”

[JMA]

Corporal Jimmy Swan continues:

It was dense bush, but we knew now that we were strategically surrounding an estimated 8,000-strong enemy and that their only choices were to fight, run or die. Some choppers left to refuel somewhere back on the approach route where troops and fuel were waiting, which had been para-dropped by the DC-7. The others stayed overhead to cover the ground force, now all down and awaiting instructions. The entire valley was now a war zone—small-arms and anti-aircraft fire, mortars and air strikes made it more than real. The sky was alight with tracer, ground bursts and the spit of fire from the jets as they launched their rockets or fired their 40mm cannons. And much of the fire was in fact from the terrorists directed at the aircraft. The air was already pungent with smoke and the tang of napalm. Smoke was bellowing from burning thatch and bush.

Almost immediately we got the okay from our K-car commander and we moved forward toward our targets, all ensuring we were not in front of the next stick, keeping our dressing. Slowly we crept forward, weapons at the ready with butt tucked in the shoulder, safety catch to R—eyes scanning just above the thick bush, which enhanced one’s ability to focus on objects that were not part of the bush. It was better this way, rather than looking directly for humans. Although there were 17 x four-man sticks, it was difficult to see the man next to you.

The sweep line commander called a halt and we went to ground and watched in absolute silence, camouflaged and crouched just inside a tree line facing the direction of the camps we had clearly seen prior to landing. We hoped that any escaping gooks would be running and looking upward at the aircraft and not detect us.

Then it happened as predicted—the bush in front of us opened up and they were running, in the crouch. All hell let loose as we fired into them from approximately 30 to 50 metres and they reeled back, shouting and screaming in shock and panic, some firing at us without effect … as we took them out with volleys of fire from the gunners and riflemen on both sides of me. All riflemen used the economical but effective double tap, which is accurate and always kills. They started dropping like flies and the bush was alive with movement and screams. The sounds of automatic fire from the MAG gunners and those meticulous double-taps from the riflemen were heart-warming. They tried to run back but they were being annihilated. We threw HE and white phos grenades and it was a massacre.

We ran through their position and then went to ground, awaiting the next wave. Other gooks, hearing their comrades making contact, headed off in another direction, and straight into the 2 Commando sticks on the left flank. It was full-on killing. The gooks knew if they headed back to the centre of the camp, they would be taken out by the predatory Blues (air force), so they chose to stay in the thickets of the rivers and gullies ... where we were.

[JMA]

Canadian machine gunner Mike MacDonald continues:

We started sweeping towards the main terrorist headquarters. I sprayed a few thick bushes with clearing fire en route. We saw a G-Car land and move a few hundred yards to our northeast; I think it picked up an SAS KIA. We came across an abandoned anti-aircraft position with an intact Soviet 7.62mm-long machine-gun on a tripod in a pit next to a hut. This gun site had hundreds of empty casings so it had clearly run out of ammo, and was not destroyed by the Air Force. We burned the hut as small-arms ammo exploded inside … and we carried on. We took cover in the edge of some bush 150 yards short of camp: a totally open area with a road running across our front.

We scanned the base with binoculars but there was no sign of the enemy. A four-man stick at each end of the sweepline dashed across the open ground to take cover inside the edge of the base while covered by the rest of the para stops. If clear, the rest would come across. I was in the left-hand stick and this was to be the longest run of my life. I ran as fast as possible with all my weaponry but not as fast as I would have liked. We ran past several slit trenches with dead gooks inside them. Finally we reached the cover of the main camp with no enemy fire evident.

The rest of our para stops arrived, again with no enemy fire. We swept towards the main building area. I saw a pair of shoes on the ground with the body of the owner wedged in the fork of a tree 20 feet away; it was missing half its head from an airstrike. A few bodies lay here and there. We reached the main buildings which were somewhat burned out and one of our officers stepped gingerly inside to clear it.

[JMA]

Corporal Tony Coom continues (about a gunship firing on own forces):

“In one instant I saw death from a gun barrel, the Christmas-tree-brilliant twinkling of the 20mm rounds exploding in the trees above me, the ground heaving from the impact of those that got through and the four guys being pole-axed to the ground.

… Lt Adams and the others did what they had to do about the machine-gun (at the main gate guard post) and I was left with the task of getting the wounded to an evacuation site.”

Lt Mark Adams continues:

The first attempt of a casevac chopper to land had to be aborted due to ground fire from gooks ahead of the sweepline. Then the whole casevac was delayed as a jet strike was needed ahead of the sweepline and the attack direction of the Vampires was directly overhead us.

Having dealt with the immediate enemy problem I had the opportunity to visit the wounded. I found C/Sgt Norman lying on his back. “They’ve taken my eye out,” he told me (in choice words to that effect). I looked down and saw blood had pooled in his right eye. A close look indicated that it was a shrapnel wound in the eyebrow that caused the bleed. Tried to reassure him, but not sure he bought it.

Coom continues:

“We again swept the area that we had come through by the guard post and hauled out the machine-gun, a 12.7mm on wheels that had opened up on us during our initial advance.”

Trooper Bruce Kidd continues,

“We passed the biggest food preparation centre known to man. The food and porridge was prepared in 210-litre drums. There must have been 20 drums in all stages of readiness. Later we found some generator sets to which we attached grenades to the working parts to render them unserviceable for future use.”

[JMA]

Lt John Cronin (ex-USMC) continues:

We arrived at the headquarters complex from the south without incident and passed through a line of one story buildings to find 15 ZANLA lying on the grounds who had been hit close in by Golf bombs. They were quite dead. A few had not a mark on them but were completely naked, their clothes and boots having been torn off by the force of the explosions, and two had been impaled through their chests by their own weapons, but most were just completely shredded.

Of these, not one body was intact and they were nearly unrecognizable as humans, with limbs missing and their insides spattered all over the walls and trees, which themselves were full of impact holes from the bomblets. ZANLA’s headquarters was much larger than we expected and we cleared several sets of buildings before Strong gave us a 30 minute break.

It was ungodly hot, and the tension of the operation so far, along with inevitable dehydration, had given all of us massive headaches, so I took four of my men into what turned out to be a small medical hut and we sat down to brew up some tea and eat something.

The food and cool interior helped, but our heads were still raging, and it occurred to me that if this was a medical facility, then there had to be some aspirin lying around, so I scrounged through the shelves loaded with new supplies until I located a box and every one of us took four each. They had come from Finland, which I found interesting, because I had always thought that the only things that came out of that country were a pathological hatred of Russians, astronomical suicide rates and herring breath.

Cronin, John R. (2012-07-06). The Bleed (Kindle Locations 6265-6277). . Kindle Edition.

[JMA]

The fun and games continue...

From the book: OPERATION DINGO: Rhodesian Raid on Chimoio and Tembue' 1977

The attack was not yet 15 minutes old but among the shattered buildings and burning huts lay hundreds of dead, wounded or stunned ZANLA personnel. When the Rhodesian troops reached it later, the rows of bodies lying on the parade ground reminded ex-USMC Lt John Cronin of a field of mown corn.

Among them, however, were neither Robert Mugabe nor the ZANLA commanders, Josiah Tongogara and Rex Nhongo, something which Walls regretted when speaking to the press later. The wife of Edgar Tekere, Mugabe’s mentor (and later his opponent), survived hidden in a latrine.

Yet such was the sustained fire from the anti-aircraft gun pits that every aircraft flying low over the complex after the initial airstrike was hit. Heavy anti-aircraft fire from the Old Garage and the 88 thatched huts of the Ngangas’ (herbalists or spiritual healers) Camp prompted Walsh to order a restrike. Red 2 obliged by hammering with 30mm shells the Old Garage, its neighbouring National Stores and adjoining huts. In all, the three Hunters of Red Section had fired one thousand rounds. Blue 2 fired 45 Matra 68mm rockets at the mill at Old Stores and added a burst of 140 rounds of 30mm shells into the Ngangas’ Camp.

At 0800hrs (H+15) a large group of ZANLA cadres was spotted from the air west of Pasindina 2 Camp outside the waiting Rhodesian cordon.

Simultaneously, in the middle of the complex, just south of Chitepo College, an anti-aircraft gun opened fire on a K-Car and hit an accompanying Lynx. The Lynx turned away, heading back to Grand Reef, leaking fuel. Walsh called for a response. While two K-Cars swung across to rake Pasindina 2, Red 3 neutralized the gun and then fired rockets and his cannons at a hard core of ZANLA making a stand 200 metres south of the Chaminuka and Parirenyatwa camps and the headquarters.

[JMA]

The Mark McLean story from:

Dingo Firestorm: The Greatest Battle of the Rhodesian Bush War – Ian Pringle

See photos in post #159 above.

Flight-Lieutenant Mark McLean’s helicopter, Alouette serial number 5037, now resembled a flying sieve; it had taken 12 hits. ‘You know when you have taken a hit, it’s a “ting” sound. A crack is just a near miss.’

Mark remembers that his technician, Finch Bellringer, was still sporting fresh wounds in his back from his last Fire Force action before Dingo, which made him ‘aware of his mortality, not overly nervous, but aware’. Then, just after 13:00, one round got much, much closer: a bullet passed right through McLean’s helmet.

‘I was in my left-hand attack orbit, and then I woke up to hear Finch Bellringer shouting, “Are you all right; are you all right?” By then, we were in a right- hand orbit. We must have flipped over into a right turn during the moment I was unconscious, or at least stunned, and Finch didn’t know what the hell was going on. He must have thought his pilot was dead.’

A bullet had entered the front of McLean’s helmet just above his right eye, smashing the visor and exiting above and behind his right ear, grazing his right temple. The bullet brought the total number of holes in the helicopter to 13, excluding the two holes in the pilot’s helmet. McLean recovered his wits enough to stabilise the helicopter; ‘It felt like I had been smacked by a prizefighter. I can only think that the resistance of the fibre in the helmet must have snapped my head to the right. It certainly gave me a savage headache, which lasted for the rest of the day. I remember the headache being worse the next morning, but that was probably more to do with the amount of beer I drank at Grand Reef that night.’

Mark McLean, sporting a huge AK-47—induced lump over his right eye, and his recently wounded technician, Finch Bellringer, bravely continued with the task of eliminating ZANLA resistance without any thought for their own discomfort or safety. McLean carried on flying his K-car, clocking a total of six hours, 40 minutes in the air that day

[JMA]

More from: OPERATION DINGO: Rhodesian Raid on Chimoio and Tembue' 1977

... Stop 1 was again under fire, this time from a dug-in 12.7mm DShK Soviet heavy machine gun. Summoned for support by Stop 1, K-Car K4, however, fired at moving figures through the trees’ foliage, hitting the Stop 1 stick of Colour Sergeant John Norman (commander of 11 Troop). Shrapnel peppered Norman, Neil Hooley, Paul Furstenburg, and M. Grobbler. John Norman was hit in the face. While Peter Leid, the 3 Commando medic, and Furstenburg, the stick medic, were attending to Norman, they were subjected stray rounds from a neighbouring SAS stick. Terry Hammond was hit, nearly severing his arm.

Walsh ordered a casevac by G-Car of the wounded. To cover this, at 1200hrs, a Hunter attempted to suppress the ZANLA fire in front of the troops. Lt Adams’s Stop 1 then silenced the 12.7mm machine gun and, at 1207hrs, Charles Goatley, flying a G-Car, attempted to fetch the wounded. He drew ZANLA fire and was waved off. Everything had to wait for Stop 1 to clear the area before Coom could talk Goatley in to remove the wounded to the care of Dr Webster at the admin area. Peter Leid travelled with them to tend to Hammond who was bleeding heavily. Hammond survived but was left with a bent, withered arm.

[JMA]

Peter Petter-Boyer – who was involved in the design and development of the ordinance dropped on Chimoio - continues:

From the book - Winds of Destruction

When (Group Captain) Norman Walsh called me forward to inspect the air weapons effects, it was rapidly approaching the time for recovery to Rhodesia; in fact helicopters from Lake Alexander were already airborne enroute to uplift troops. It was only in the air on the short leg to Chimoio that I realized just how late it was. With so much noisy activity and so much to do, eight hours appeared to have compressed into mere minutes.

There was too little time to inspect more than a portion of an Alpha bomb strike and one site struck by Golf bombs. Nevertheless this was more than enough to let me see what I needed to see. In fact I saw more than I bargained for and the experience shook me to the very core of my being.

The four-man SAS callsign assigned to protect and assist me were clearly amused by my discomfort at being on the ground. The real fighting was over and for these men Chimoio had become a quiet environment. Not so for one who felt safest in the air. I dropped to the ground as bullets cracked overhead then raised myself sheepishly when I realized no one else had taken cover. The next time a flurry of cracks sounded around us, I remained standing when all four SAS had dropped to the ground. “Never mind sir”, said the nearest soldier “it’s the ones you don’t hear that you need to worry about.”

The airstrike effects were very troubling. Analysing weapons efficiency and counting holes in dummy targets out on a prepared site at Katanga Range was one thing. To see the same weapons’ effects on human beings was quite another. I had seen many dead Rhodesians and CT killed in Fire Force actions and had witnessed the appalling carnage on civilians blown-up by ZANLA land mines; but here I was seeing something more horrifying. Those who had been killed by the troops were greater in number, but somehow their wounds appeared to me to be so much more acceptable than those taken out by bombs.

The SAS men escorting me were used to seeing bodies mutilated by grenades, land mines and even heavy air strikes. For me it was different. An airman’s war tends to be detached. Even seeing CTs running and going down under fire seemed remote. Never again did I accept airstrike casualty numbers as a means by which to judge our air successes without remembering the horrors of what I saw at Chimoio.



It was a relief to lift off for the return flight to the Admin base and thence back to Rhodesia.

[JMA]

Corporal Jimmy Swan continues:

...

We continued forward and cautiously entered the first training camp that had absorbed the initial air strikes. It was a mass of burning embers and bodies, with the sweet smell of napalm all pervasive. We ensured all sticks were in line and we watched. We had two choppers overhead and were assured any other units were not in our direct field of fire. We opened up on all the huts and any likely cover. We then advanced slowly, very aware we were heading for the bunkers, where we knew some of the gooks had scrambled into to try and hide. Suddenly our men were literally walking on hidden gooks in the undergrowth and, after nearly $hitting our pants, finished them with double taps.

Carefully we searched for bunkers. These were located and some of them were so large and so well disguised, we stopped any foolish thoughts of attempting to assault them and simply gave them the bunker bomb treatment. This was a grenade box, stuffed with one kilogram of plastic, a simple detonator and KABOOM! It had zero shrapnel but was all percussion. In a nutshell, all died. Again, you took cover and kept your mouth agape. While throwing the bomb into the bunker, the nominated person had to be very careful as he had to open the bunker vent just enough to drop the bomb in—at this time he was most vulnerable and liable to get shot. The rest of the stick lay flat on the ground as the bomber laid up on the side of the bunker, counted to two (so they could not throw it back), and quickly tossed it in before rolling clear. The shock wave was enormous.

In the first camp we came across five bunkers, cleverly camouflaged in the surrounding bush so as to be almost undetectable. The shout “Take cover!” was called by the grenade thrower and we all took heed. Once the smoke settled, in went one of the guys, simply to do the body count and remove all weapons and ammunition. We used controlled clearing tactics, rather than risk life—we fired into all remaining huts, likely cover and we killed many more terrorists. These training camps were very basic, made up of sleeping quarters and lecture ‘halls’—huts made of bamboo and timber, banana leaves and the like—and for protection the bunkers and foxholes.

By now my stick had accounted for 15 confirmed kills and all of us still in one piece. Similar figures were coming in from the sticks to our left and right, so we estimated that in four hours of sweeping 2 Commando had accounted for an estimated 120 kills. This did not include the similar figure found in camps taken out by the Air Force. A confirmed kill is one in your sights who dies from your round. Casualties found dead in a killing ground are credited as group kills or to the Blue Jobs (air force).

...

[JMA]

More from Mike Kelso - Retired Ranger CSM and Ranger Hall of Fame:

“Op Dingo was also where I picked up my war trophy. The morning after the para assault we were sweeping through and burning hooches (huts). Before setting flames we searched each hooch throwing out any items we thought were of value. In several, we found cases of ammo, kit, and some medical supplies. In one of the last, I was throwing out some ammo cases when I looked next to the door frame and saw a commie holster hanging by its strap. As one of the more sought after trophies I couldn’t believe my luck. Hopefully there was a pistol in the holster. I was in luck, in the holster was a Russian Tokarev. I knew that I would not be allowed to keep the pistol and that it would end up in an NCOs or officers possession. The para-FNs (having folding butts or as the Americans say, folding stocks) we had captured came to mind. I believe Lt Adams and Cpl Coom ended up with those. That was OK but I wanted the pistol. I swiftly secured the pistol in my kit and threw the holster out to the pile of other terr kit. I received the holster after we returned back to our barracks in Salisbury. I managed to keep the Tokarev secret eventually hiding it in my luggage when I returned home to the US. After 35 years it is still in my possession and a prized remembrance of Op Dingo.”

CSM, that was 1978, I want to see you get a Tokarev through a couple of airports today.