Fatfox9's Blog

PICK-UP POINT: WEST OF MAPETA ISLAND

Tony and I had disembarked after deciding sitting on the boat was a bad idea and made us look like two shit-scared school boys.

We had found a position from where we could observe the boat and anyone approaching it.  We needed to be careful here as in the poor light, we, or someone else approaching could be mistaken for the enemy with catastrophic consequences.  We waited, and then waited some more.  I juggled with the idea of letting the BSAP know we were in position but decided against it.  We had agreed we would only make comms if we were in trouble.

Somewhere close by a tiger fish broke the surface, crashing back down into the water………a baboon barked in the early darkness, signalling danger.  That was all…….nothing else stirred except the mosquitos that had found a new source of fresh blood.  I began to think we were in the wrong position and had indeed fucked-up.

The man appeared silently from our right and immediately reassured us that he was one of us and showed no aggression.  Without introductions he instructed us to follow him further inland until we arrived at what looked like a typical Rhodesian farm-house with a huge verandah facing the river.  We had climbed a bit while following our mysterious stranger and the view from our present position would have been stunning in the daylight………at night all one could see was a black blob of nothingness.

There were about ten of them on the verandah.  These were serious looking men.  Clean shaven, neat military style hair and in full camouflage uniform.  No beards so they were probably not Selous Scouts.  I figured they were Rhodesian SAS.  AK 47’s leant against the low verandah wall, an RPD and PKM rested lopsided on their bipods on the once highly polished floor.

There were still no introductions and that is the way it stayed.  No names and in any case if there were they would have been pseudo.  Thats how these men worked.  We knew who they were and they knew who we were.  That was good enough for me and Tony.  There was quite a bit of banter going back and forth and we were drawn into it.  I savoured the moment of working with a Unit that I considered probably the best in the world.  I was more than a little in awe of these men.  And so I should have been.

One of them called us aside and for the first time we were told what our mission was.  We were to take the SAS into Zambia by inserting them up the Mulola River by boat.  Our old Hercules was about to get her moment of glory…….and perhaps we were too.  I was about to take part in my first external operation and who better to do this with than the men who wore the Winged Dagger and Wings On Chest?  The job was straightforward enough…….take an SAS callsign up a Zambian creek and drop them off…….then pick them up at the same spot 24 hours later.

We went back onto the verandah where the other Operators were busy preparing a strange brown, round object that had 2 halves to it, like a cake tin and about the same size.  Instinctively I knew it was a landmine of some sorts but nothing I had ever seen before.  As a Rhodesian Combat Engineer I prided myself on my knowledge of the various mines we may encounter in Rhodesia but this was something else.  And this is when I gained immense respect for our “hosts”.  They told us what it was and how it worked.  It was called a “Rose” mine and had been designed to kill anyone trying to lift it once armed.  This anti-vehicle mine had a number of initiation triggers.  If my memory serves me correctly it could be set off in five or six different ways , including a light-sensitive switch that would activate when the mine was uncovered.  It also had a delayed arming fuse to ensure the person laying the mine was not on a one-way ticket when he pulled the pin.  This was highly secret stuff and the last thing I expected was to be invited to help prepare them for the mission.  After a quick lesson from one of the Operators Tony and I were only too willing to put the devices together……plastic explosives (lots of it), primers, detonators, ignitors.  The last part of the preparation was putting the top and bottom of the mine together…….closing the cake tin and taping it up.  All that would be needed now was to find a nice busy road in Zambia, dig a hole, emplace the mine, remove the safety device, and cover everything up.

I really warmed to these guys.  Utter professionals from their full camo dress to the way they treated us as equals.  Quiet men with nothing to prove.  No rank showing and no rank used.  Making us tea and even sharing a light meal with us.  When they blackened-up they helped us to get it right too while joking among themselves but never taking the piss.  I decided that one day I wanted to be like them and do what they do.  I never quite made it but came close as dammit.

It was pitch black when we started back down the trail to the boat.  The moon glowed behind wispy clouds……stars twinkled in the dark heavens.  The Operators wore Bergen back-packs that looked like they weighed a ton and we helped them with some of the other kit they were taking with them.  It seemed to me the mines were in the Bergens.  Only six of the Operators were going into Zambia.  The remainder had stayed behind to act as a rear link.

Going downhill in the dark while carrying a lot of kit is not easy and it was a relief when we broke out onto the smooth open sand where the boat was tied up.  A million things start to go through your head at this time.  Engine reliability, fuel, getting shot at and the lonely trip back that awaited Tony and I.  One thing I was not worried about was navigating to the drop-off point in Zambia.  We had a bunch of the best navigators in the world with us!  Getting back to the old farmhouse on our own was something entirely different!

We started to load the kit onto the boat.  This was serious stuff now as we needed to get the trim right or the Hercules would be a bitch to handle and very unstable.  We were going to be really heavy on this outward trip and we literally played a balancing act as to where everything and everyone would be located during the journey.  The placing of the kit and personnel was the responsibility of the boat commander who was Tony on the drop-off phase.  He had complete control of who sat where and there were no arguments, irregardless of rank.  This was the rule and everyone knew it.  I would position myself next to the motors on the way into Zambia and one of the Operators would sit next to Tony and navigate us in.

I would be the last person to board.  Once everyone was where they should be one of the Operators and I shoved the boat out into the channel and jumped onboard.  Moving to the back I started the already primed motors and Tony eased us slowly into the darkness………

Please also have a look at my website dedicated to Rhodesian and South African Military Engineers.  Please join us on the forums by using the following link:

http://www.sasappers.net/forum/index.php

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