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The journey to Salisbury was fairly uneventful, and except for the occasional stop for the customary pee, smoke and leg stretch, we arrived in good time and still in daylight.

Reporting to the 2 Squadron HQ, where we were expecting a hero’s welcome and friendly smiles turned out to be a pretty poor assumption and was far from reality.  No one seemed to have a  clue why we were there and evidently we should have pushed all the way through to Mtoko without a stop in Salisbury. This was light years from the instructions given to us in Bulawayo, and it was pretty clear it was another of those military blunders – sadly this was just the first example of many to come on this mission.

We were not keen to travel through to Mtoko immediately, and in any case we would not be allowed to as it would be breaking the curfew if we did, so it would be a night stop sleeping under our vehicles and the stars as there was no accommodation arranged either.  This by default also meant no catering arrangements either.  I asked that a message be sent to 1 Squadron, informing them of the situation and apparent miscommunication.  This of course to cover my arse.

We were given permission to park our trucks on a piece of open ground for the night.  After collecting money from the crew we sent a couple of lads with the Unimog to buy beers at the canteen, and cokes for the teetotalers.  It was going to be ratpack stew for supper.  At least we could have a few drinks and shoot the shit before climbing into our sleeping bags – life was as good as we could make it within our cohort.  I fell asleep looking at the stars.

Early the next morning we cleaned up the area, washed and shaved using the taps on our water bowser.  I then sent the drivers to fill our vehicles at the Petrol, Oil and Lubricants (POL) point, while one of the sergeants and I paid a visit to the Squadron HQ once again.  I recognised one of the junior officers and asked if we could have a word.  According to him, he knew we were on the move to Mtoko, but there was never a plan for us to night stop in Salisbury, which I found very strange indeed, considering we would not have enough daylight to get from Bulawayo to Mtoko in a single day without breaking curfew.  I considered this and as it was a lovely sunny day, decided that it was just one of those things.  He added that the 2 Squadron contingent had left for Mtoko at the same time we left Bulawayo – so they were already there waiting for us, and had already been informed by radio of the change in plan, and that we would be arriving later today.

Our next dilemma was rations.  We had only drawn 2 ratpacks each at Brady Barracks and therefore already breaking into our second and last one.  Should we encounter any further delays on the way to Mtoko, we would be in a bit of a fix, food-wise.  I asked the officer if we could be issued a further 2 packs per man and to my surprise he told me all of our rations were with the 2 Squadron contingent and there was nothing available for us in Salisbury.  No use arguing, but the plan was continuing to unravel.  If you want to mess with troop moral, take away a soldiers food and pay.

By now our vehicles had refueled and were parked-up close to the Squadron HQ, waiting for the sergeant and I to join them.  As we were leaving the HQ, the Squadron Sergeant Major, who I also knew approached me and asked what those waster 1 Squadron vehicles and troops were doing in his lines.  I explained the situation we were in and he immediately got very pissed off, not with me but rather the 2 Squadron HQ in general.  He berated them for not providing us decent accommodation and a warm meal on arrival and insisted that rations be issued to us for our journey to Mtoko.  Whoever his ire was aimed at I do not know, but there was much activity while arrangements were made for us to collect additional rations for the journey.  At least there was someone who understood where the fault lay and done his best to make things right.  He directed us to the QM store where we were issued what was known as tinned equivalent, not rat packs per se, but rather bulk rations in big cardboard boxes containing larger tins and other bits and pieces that we could share between us when the time came.

Everyone loves a Sergeant Major – and normally avoids pissing them off.

After thanking him for bringing some inter-squadron cooperation to an otherwise hard start to the day, we mounted the trucks and got on our way to Mtoko.

The 140-odd kilometer journey would take around 3 hours – but this was a dangerous route where high vigilance was required. To add context, attacks on this road were frequent, characterised by gook ambushes, minelaying, and infiltration attempts, crucially as the enemy had established so called “liberated zones” in the Mtoko area.

The gooks knew that if they could dominate this road, they would be successful in disrupting Rhodesian Security Force logistics.

Above: ZANLA CTs making a plan – Owner unknown but I do acknowledge that this is not my media

And we were going to be travelling right through the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA) hunting grounds.

Would we make it through unscathed?  Part 3 will tell.

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