South Africa put much pressure on Zambia, via the UN, not to support SWAPO or provide a safe haven for its cadres. Consequently, the frequency and intensity of SADF operations against SWAPO into Zambia increased. The Zambian National Defence Force (ZNDF) inadvertently became involved, since SWAPO utilised the ZNDF’s logistical supply lines and often established their bases close to ZNDF deployments. The result was that the Zambian government began to pressure SWAPO to stop its activities in the southwestern parts of the country, since the South African Defence Force was causing a lot of trouble for them. The Zambian government also increased its pressure on South Africa, via the UN, to conclude peace talks with SWAPO.
My first deployment with the 31 Battalion recce wing was meant to be a daring little venture into southwestern Zambia to try and capture a SWAPO official on the road between Sesheke and Luso along the Zambezi River. This was early in February 1979. At the time, SWAPO was very active between the Kwando and Zambezi rivers in this corner of Zambia, and the area served as a transition and staging point for cadres moving to the front in Angola. It was an excellent training area for a guerrilla force. The terrain was quite similar to that of the operational areas in southern Angola and northern Namibia (Ovamboland). Up to that point the southwestern corner of Zambia was considered safe by SWAPO, since regular South African forces had not been operating across the border into Zambia.
Our mission was to ambush a SWAPO vehicle along the road and bring back a senior cadre alive for questioning. The ultimate purpose would be to determine the position of SWAPO deployments in the Zambian theatre of operations. Three of us were to form one early-warning group further north along the road, while another group of three would deploy south of the ambush site. The main force, the ambush party, consisting of Frannie du Toit and eleven guys, Bushmen and white operators paired off, deployed at a tactically suitable position between the two early-warning groups. They would be ready to spring the ambush once either group reported the approach of the SWAPO vehicle.
One thing stands out from those few days: I have never been so wet and so miserable for such a long time. We were using mostly SWAPO equipment, because the deployment was meant to be non-traceable, and of course the SWAPO kit would provide a measure of deception if we were spotted by an adversary. We only had ponchos that barely covered our bodies. From day one I was soaking wet – and stayed like that for the rest of the time. We could not move an inch in the early-warning position and could only shiver to stay warm. Making coffee or warming up food wasn’t an option, as our hide was literally two metres from the road.
The operation was terminated because the ambush party was compromised by a member of the local population (or LP, as they were referred to) who stumbled onto their position and ran away before anyone could react. We had to rush back to a predetermined RV and anti-track to ensure that our tracks were not discovered and followed back to the border. It was quite a relief when the deployment was called off. I would certainly be better prepared next time!
Once the team had regrouped at the RV, Frannie called me and asked whether I could lead the team back to the exfiltration point. I was eager to prove myself in the bush and I didn’t hesitate a moment. Through the lush vegetation of the African bush and over a distance of 30 km, I managed to navigate to the exact point where we needed to cross the border to re-enter the Caprivi. Although this was a small feat, it gave me great confidence in my abilities, and it convinced Frannie that I was capable enough to be deployed with him.
Of the many valuable lessons learned during this operation, one was that the success of counterinsurgency operations had to be measured in relative terms. An operation could seldom be labelled an outright failure if the stated objective was not in fact reached (as it was in this case), because it very often led to additional operational benefits, such as intelligence gained. The mere presence of South African forces in an area where they had not been expected also had an impact, and often intelligence gained on a “failed” mission would lead to the successful execution of a future operation.
A second key lesson was this: the bigger the force, the greater the chances of being detected. Over the next three years I discovered this to be a fundamental truth.
In 31 Battalion recce wing the norm at the time was to deploy in six-man patrols on reconnaissance missions. Since these jobs were of a tactical nature (as opposed to strategic), and contact with the enemy therefore almost inevitable, the reasoning was that the team should be strong enough to handle itself in a punch-up. During many of those deployments the team used to have a company from 31 Battalion right behind it, not more than a few hundred metres away.
The whole purpose, I discovered, was in fact to find the enemy, get them tied up in a fight so that they wouldn’t run away, and then have the company move in for the kill. It never worked, as the SWAPO detachments always followed the classic Mao Zedong tactics of “running away today to fight another day”. They never got tied up in a firefight unless they had chosen the killing field. They knew the lay of the land and were highly flexible in the bush. Contrary to what we were led to believe – that the SWAPO cadres were scared of the South African forces and chose to run away during any encounter – I learned that they were shrewd tacticians and often fierce fighters, most probably because they were fighting for a cause they were willing to die for.
Incidentally, during my years at 31 Battalion, but especially later during small team operations with Special Forces, several nerve-racking experiences taught me that running away was a valid technique that should be part of your arsenal of tactics, and that it did not necessarily mean defeat. The guerrilla mantra became a way of living, and so we adopted guerrilla tactics for the same reason SWAPO did – to survive! Among the special operations fraternity at Katima Mulilo I became known as a “fast runner”, as in most of my operations hasty not-so-tactical withdrawals were required to save our skins.
After this initial deployment, a series of reconnaissance tasks came our way. Frannie du Toit was an expert and I was lucky to be picked for a number of jobs with him. With his forceful personality and uncanny knack for reconnaissance, he was considered a bit of a maverick. Since he had selected and trained the Bushmen in the early days of the recce wing, he had the choice of some of the best men.
Our first deployment after the initial ambush attempt was a reconnaissance mission to locate a SWAPO forward detachment in the area of Kalabolelwa, also situated along the Zambezi River. Tango Naca and Dumba Katombela, two seasoned members of the recce wing, who formed part of Frannie’s regular team, were picked for the task.
Tango was one of the old-style, fierce Bushman soldiers who seemed to possess a sixth sense that made him almost supernaturally good in the bush. He could read a track like a storybook. He knew the bush intimately, understood the habits of the birds and animals, and had a natural, inbuilt sense for danger. Never while operating with Tango would we encounter enemy or local population without us knowing about them first. On numerous occasions we would locate them before they could become aware of us, allowing us to take evasive action or merge with the undergrowth.
One week before the infiltration we were airlifted to Katima Mulilo for final preparations and briefings. We spent most of our time in the ops room at Katima, planning routes and emergency procedures, and preparing maps for the deployment. We deployed from Mpacha Air Force Base before last light one day late in February 1979.
The Super Frelon dropped us in an omuramba 30 km southwest of our target area. It was a strange feeling, just the four of us in the belly of the huge helicopter, flying into the unknown. The adrenaline was pumping, as I had no idea what to expect. After twenty minutes we reached the landing zone (LZ). As we ran down the ramp into the field of small mopane trees outside, I was half expecting the enemy to be waiting to mow us down, but nothing happened.