The Fiat pilots were obviously super-sensitive to Strela. They turned into their attack dives about five seconds apart from 30,000 feet and probably released their bombs at around 15,000 feet. We did not see the jets at any stage.
I was beginning to doubt that the markers had been seen because nothing happened for ages. Holding well away from the base, I had completed half an orbit before the first cluster of four 250-pound bombs landed in the base. A long pause followed, then the second cluster struck, again inside the target. In the same way we had heard the first two strikes, the third ‘krrrump’ of bombs sounded much louder but we had not seen them explode. It took another quarter of the turn before we spotted the dust cloud of the strike behind us about 800 metres short of the target.
The combined area covered by the two sets of tightly grouped bombs within the target was substantially smaller than that obtained by a single Hunter using Matra rockets. This strike had been a complete waste of time and we saw no movement whatsoever in or near the base. Major Vizlha agreed that the Fiats had given the game away long before the marker rockets were fired.
Though embarrassed by the strike of his own force, Vizlha was very impressed by the swiftness of the final FAC-controlled strike by Hunters and Canberras against Base (5) and remarked on our radio disciplines, which involved only a few short verbal exchanges.
Base 5’s anti-aircraft guns were sited well outside the perimeter of the target and they put up so much fire at us that I broke away and returned to base. In this case the anti-aircraft gun tracer rounds coming our way had been made highly visible because the whole area of the target was in the shadow of high-level cloud. Major Vizlha’s high-pitch Portuguese outburst did nothing to dampen my own fear.
Next day the assault force was used to check out the effects of the air strikes on the three bases. Considerable quantities of FRELIMO equipment were recovered out of each of the bases though this would have been greater had the force been used straight after the strikes. Anti-aircraft shell casings littered a number of gun positions but all guns had been taken away during the night.
In Base (3), eight FRELIMO bodies were found burnt in or next to thatched structures with evidence of the burial of others. No bodies were found in Base (4). Something in the order of twenty FRELIMO dead were in Base (5) where many fresh field-dressing packets showed that a number of wounded had been taken to safety.
On 13 April the assault force was put in on a base, I think by Kevin Peinke. I continued with my own recce directly to the north of Chris Weinmann’s area with our Director of Operations, Wing Commander Porky MacLaughlin, who was visiting the Air Detachment at Estima. He had insisted on accompanying me on a flight during which we conducted FAC for another combined jet strike before we led Clive Ward flying a Trojan and Chris Dickinson flying a Provost onto a smaller base.
My recall of these strikes is vague, but the Air Strike Reports indicate that the thatching of buildings in the base struck by jets was so green that the troops had difficulty in setting them alight. In spite of this, the base had been deserted before the strike went in, indicating that FRELIMO had become jittery. So it was decided to switch all attention to a new area.
On 14 April I moved east of the areas we had disturbed. At midday Chris Weinmann and I checked in for a routine exchange of information. Chris said he was onto something big in the very area I had warned him to treat with caution. I was doing well myself and told him so. At 12:30 I checked in with Chris again but received no reply.
Every five minutes thereafter I called Chris, but still no reply. I wondered if he had returned to Centenary, or maybe the small Portuguese base at Nova Mague just south of the Zambezi River. Maybe he was trying to arrange for attacks on whatever he had found. But I could not understand why he would have done this without letting me know. By 14:30 I had become very concerned but was unable to talk to Rob Gaunt because Estima was out of radio range and a relayed discussion was not possible as Kevin and Mark had already returned to base.
When I reached Estima at around 15:30, Rob Gaunt sent a signal to Air HQ requesting Ops to establish if Chris had returned to Centenary. The Portuguese were asked to check with Nova Mague but, unfortunately, that small base was only contactable on routine radio schedule at 17:00. In the meanwhile, Rob Gaunt had accepted a challenge from the brigadier and his adjutant to a shooting competition with Rob and me.
On our first shoot from 100 metres Rob and I, using FN rifles, had fired off ten rounds each before the brigadier and his adjutant, using Armalite rifles, had fired their second shots. We beat them hands down. The brigadier was not at all impressed by the ‘reckless rate of fire’ we had displayed and emphasised how one needed to fire, settle, aim and squeeeeze the trigger. We said we should try this at 200 metres. But, again, Rob and I cleared our magazines before our challengers had fired second shots. We were already standing up as the brigadier fired his third shot and Rob whispered to me, “I put my tenth round into the brigadier’s target. Lets see how he reacts to being called a cheat.” We never did find out because, during our walk to inspect targets, we were all summonsed urgently to the Ops Room. Chris Weinmann had not landed at Centenary or any other Rhodesian base and Nova Mague reported that no aircraft had been seen or heard all day.
Search for Chris
I PREPARED IMMEDIATELY TO COMMENCE SEARCHING for Chris who I knew must be in serious trouble. Rob Gaunt advised Air HQ of my intention but received an order that I was not, under any circumstances, to fly until cleared to do so. This clearance was only given one and a half hours after sunset following continuous niggling to let us off the leash. I intended to fly alone but Mark Knight persuaded me that I needed a second pair of eyes to watch my blind side for any distress signal that Chris may use if his emergency beacon was not working.
It was a very black night and the vague line of the Zambezi River was just sufficient to get us to a point south of where Chris had reported “something big”. Although we were flying around 10,000 feet above the ground, it still makes me shudder to recall how, for Chris’s sake, we deliberately flew with our rotating beacons flashing brightly. This provided any Strela operator with the most perfect aiming point for a missile that would easily detect our exhaust heat against the cold black sky. Were we brave or stupid? It is impossible to say because our safety seemed less important than the safety of our colleague on the ground.
Mark and I had agreed that lights had to be used just in case Chris was running, breathless and unable to hear the aircraft. For three hours we ran an expanding square search but heard no emergency signal and saw absolutely nothing save one group of small fires burning inside a Portuguese aldeamento. We felt totally helpless and were overwhelmed by a deep sense of foreboding by the time we returned to Estima after midnight. Rob told us that our three Trojans and crews were required to position at Nova Mague next morning to participate in a search for Chris. He also let me know that he had received a signal revealing that one of my junior technicians, Senior Aircraftsman Rob Durrett, had been flying with Chris.
Rob left all of our ground equipment at Estima, at least for the time being, so that we could continue with Op Marble when this became possible. He returned to Thornhill by Dakota once my three aircraft were airborne for Nova Mague.