Fatfox9's Blog

Arriving at Kotwa Airfield the next morning, we finally married up with the 2 Squadron contingent, after our night stop at Mtoko. This was quite an impressive group with another 30 or so personnel, including a full Lieutenant (TF), a Regular Senior Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) and a mix of Regular and TF Junior NCO’s. They had based up in a shady area, a distance from the runway, sheltering from the already fierce heat. We squeezed our little convoy in as best we could and after the usual inter-squadron piss-taking, I joined the others of the leader group for a briefing from the Lieutenant. He began by apologising for not waiting for us at Mtoko as was the arrangement, however once again there was a communications breakdown with no one really knowing what they were doing there and for what reason – and they decided to leave mid-afternoon for Kotwa and to be fair I would have probably done the same. We must have been more convincing on arrival at Mtoko, as we were provided with a space to bed down, fuel for our vehicles, and use of the canteen. 1 Squadron was always better at conjuring up a weasel story.

The briefing was not very detailed and it was over in less than 15 minutes. The only bit of good news was that the Tsetse Fly Men – see https://fatfox9.net/2014/01/10/the-fly-men-of-cordon-sanitaire/, had already set up their camp and there was space for our tents too. The camp was not far from the Cordon Sanitaire service road, so not too far to travel to start with – in the meantime the Fly Men would continue getting the fences sorted. There was no news on our logistics so it was another day of tinned equivalent – but we knew the Fly Men could shoot for the pot so we might just get the leftover scraps of a kudu. This was to prove wishful thinking on my part.

Among those on this mission was a regular Corporal by the name of Jimmy Datson. He had come over from UK and was a former member of 9 Para Engineers. The story has it that he caused so much shit at 9 Para that they got rid of him – I have since confirmed this story with individuals who served with him in the UK. In any event, we all make shit – just some of us don’t get caught. Jimmy and I got on really well and stuck together most of the time – mainly because we both had the same sense of dark, dry humor. And so it was that the two of us jumped onto the same vehicle and started the dusty journey from Kotwa to Nyahuku and after strapping on our safety harnesses, lit up a Madison, and prepared ourselves for whatever was coming down the track.

The journey to Nyahuku was unremarkable – same rocking from side to side motion, dust mixing with sweat on our faces, and the relentless heat beating down on our overheating brains. A man daydreams on these journeys even though one eye is always alert to anything that seems out of place within the moving landscape that passes alongside the vehicle…….stinging, grit-filled eyes scanning through cover like they taught us an eternity ago during basic training. Looking for gooks……looking for the bad guys hoping to deliver us a world of pain.

The convoy started to slow as we approached a selection of buildings, collectively known as a business centre. There were many of these throughout the Rhodesian bush. They normally consisted of one large shop with battered and rusty Sparletta and Coca Cola signs nailed up outside, and a few other structures. A notice announcing that ice-cold drinks were available inside acted as a magnet to travel wary troops and we were soon swarming towards the entrance – ensuring we left a few of the lads to stand watch – we would look after them and they knew it. Looking up at the shop I noticed it had a name as well – Adam Foyas General Dealer. Little did I know that we would become very attached to Mr Adam Foya – he was destined to become our unofficial logistic supply officer. Sadly by the time my crew managed to get to the drinks fridge (one of those paraffin operated models) there was only warm cream soda left, and a few cherry plums. I bought some in any case and handed them out to the troops on my vehicle……..it was difficult to drink as the luke-warm aerated liquid exploded in ones mouth, blasting green juice through your nostrils, and causing a stinging sensation in the back of your brain. It was still better than the warm plastic tasting liquid from our water bottles that would be the alternative though – compared to that, cream soda in the nostrils was not so bad.

Adam Foyas was not far from our destination and after a further 20 minutes travel we arrived at what was to become arguably one of the most badly supported operations that I had the misfortune to take part in.

It was late afternoon, and as the Tsetse Fly Men had been there for some time they were nicely organised, their dark green Isuzu trucks and a Land Rover nicely parked up near the area they had chosen as their piece of the camp-site. Over the next few hours we set about putting our tents up, which included one for the HQ and a kitchen/ mess area. We would get a good nights sleep and sort out our kit in the morning.