On The Boats……Up The Creek With The SAS (Part 5: Also known as Eight Men In A Leaky Boat)
April 2, 2015
WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT 2 CLICKS UP THE MULOLA RIVER: ALMOST DEAD IN THE WATER
Either way this was going to be dodgy….very dodgy.
I had managed to snap a shear-pin on the port outboard during a high rev gear-shift and it would need to be replaced if we were going to make it back to Rhodesia before first light. It was pitch-black now and we needed to make a decision. Firstly whether to attempt to replace the shear-pin before exfiltrating Zambia, or alternatively use just the remaining engine on its own to snail-pace it back home.
The problem with the first alternative was the lack of light. The moon was long gone and there were no stars. Shear pins are small components and working on an engine in the dark (and crocodile infested waters) would make things quite tricky. Changing them in the daylight was pretty straightforward but we had not tried this at night. The second option seemed feasible except for the fact that should there be a second engine failure we would simply become passengers in a boat going to nowhere.
There was of course a third, unspoken option available and that was to row back. All of our boats carried two oars for loss-of-power events and our current predicament fell into this category at least half-way without a doubt. However we had already crossed this option off the list as being impractical due to the distance involved and also because we were a pair of lazy bastards.
We settled on the shear-pin replacement before exfiltration, figuring it to be the best of a bad set of possibilities. The procedure for replacement is quite simple really, it was just the environment we were in that was going to make it challenging.
We first made sure the boat was tied up as securely and close to the bank as possible. It was quite shallow where we were and it was possible to stand on the muddy and slippery river-bottom. Unseen things brushed against our legs, bringing thoughts of snakes and crocodiles to mind in a flash. With the few tools and spare part we needed shared between us we moved to the stern of the boat. She bobbed silently up and down. Something big splashed not too far from us……probably a crocodile entering the water from the far bank. At least that is what goes through a mans mind.
We needed to get the damaged motor out of the water to work on it. While one of us released the motor locking catch the other tilted the entire engine upwards until ut was at an angle of about 45 degrees. It was then locked into position again. Like this we could get to the propeller where most of the work would take place. We now needed to get the propeller off by removing its retaining nut. This is locked with a cotter-pin which we needed to remove first after straightening it. These usually break as well so we had a spare with us. We could just about see what we were doing in the dim light but to our surprise managed to get the propeller off quite quickly. Feeling up the now exposed drive-shaft we needed to locate the shear-pin hole and having done so pushed out the broken pin. Taking the new pin we tapped it gently into its hole and then reassembled the propeller components in the reverse order. Having dropped the engine back into its operating position, we untied the boat from the bank and climbed aboard. It was only then that I realised how cold and miserable we both looked but for the first time in ages we both laughed at ourselves.
The above picture shows the shear-pin (top) and the split-pin (boatsportandtackle.com).
The picture below shows how the motor is set at 45 degrees on land (fibreglassics.com). We had to do this in the water.
I got myself back behind the wheel and checked that Tony was ready to start the motors. He gave a thumbs up and I set the throttles to the start position. Tony primed the carbs, and ensuring both motors were in neutral, started them one at a time, pulling them to life with an old piece of rope wrapped round the flywheels. We were slowly drifting backwards towards the Zambezi but to our complete satisfaction both engines had fired up sweetly. Smiles all around and the tension seemed to disappear as I gently shifted the two motors into forward gear, pushed up the revs and bought us round so the bows were headed for the Zambezi…….we were going home.
The trip out of Zambia was uneventful and seemed to take less time than going in. I was probably giving it a little more gas than Tony did on the way in and we were soon at the Mulola mouth and headed west. It was still quite dark although our eyes were by now well-adjusted and I could make out shapes all around. The high sides of the Zambian bank still towering over us, seeming to want to take us back.
Tony had moved to the front of the boat now and we sat in silence, each with his own thoughts once again. The engines were looking after themselves now, singing a metallic melody to the starless night. There was still a way to go though and we were weary too but both needed to stay switched on now. I moved us gently through the double S-bends that would bring us out close to Msuna and then on to Sibankwazi. In my dreams I was hoping for a full English breakfast served up by the Member-In-Charge. Hot sweet tea made with condensed milk, and steak and eggs crossed my mind. I could imagine the aroma of fried onions.
Msuna was behind us now and we would soon be approaching Sibankwazi. Their guards should be able to hear our engines by now. Tony switched on our small VHF radio and checked in with the police, letting them know it was us and requested a strobe flash for direction. We both strained our eyes looking for the strobe and when it came we were almost opposite the camp. I swung the boat round 90 degrees to port and headed for our safe-haven……..we were home.
Please also have a look at my website dedicated to Rhodesian and South African Military Engineers. Join us on the forums by using the following link:
http://www.sasappers.net/forum/index.php
Copyright
© Mark Richard Craig and Fatfox9’s Blog, 2009-2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
On The Boats……Up The Creek With The SAS (Part 4: Also known as Eight Men In A Leaky Boat)
March 28, 2015
ZAMBEZI RIVER DOWNRIVER FROM MAPETA ISLAND: EN-ROUTE TO THE SAS DROP-OFF POINT
The boat was heavy and she laboured through the water and it felt as if invisible claws were trying to hold her back…..not wanting to let us go. An omen perhaps?
Tony was doing the best he could but try as he might he could not get us up on the plane even though we had moved as much kit to the back of the boat as possible to lift the bows. This in turn caused the stern to dip dangerously low towards the waterline and it was a little unsettling to say the least. Port and starboard trim was good though and we remained straight and level, not tilted to one side. We settled on a half-throttle pace, and taking our direction from the SAS Operator on the front bench the twin Evinrudes burbled us slowly back down the river.
We travelled within Rhodesian territory for quite some time, and for youngsters that had no previous experience of this type of operation this took away some of the tension of what may be ahead of us. It was somehow reassuring to know Rhodesia, our safe haven, was not too far away if the shit hit the fan. The SAS Operators were as always the ultimate professionals and I was proud to be working with them. They instilled a sense of security. You knew instinctively that if things turned nasty they would know exactly what to do. They were good men.
We had passed the Maungwa River mouth to the north, and then our second home the British South Africa Police (BSAP) camp at Sibankwazi. Msuna Mouth glided by in the darkness to our right and I craved for the ice-cold beers and battered barbel snacks I had consumed there on many a visit to the friendly owners of the fishing resort. It was easy to let ones mind roam and that was dangerous. We meandered on down the river, passing two large islands……both pitch-black and foreboding.
I was jerked back to the present, my mind having begun to wander off. Tony had swung us hard a-port and I lost my balance slightly while at the same time keeping a beady eye on the bow wave. The SAS man at the front had given a silent direction change to Tony. In a few minutes we would be crossing the invisible line that marked the international border between Rhodesia and Zambia. It was an eerie feeling, crossing into another country without permission, no passports, no questions. I began to warm to the idea of doing something I had never done before, and indeed I had crossed that point where fear no longer exists. You were committed to the mission, personal weakness or doubts could no longer be a consideration and there was no turning back. On every high-risk mission I have taken part in there was always a short period when I was afraid, sometimes very afraid. With me this is usually at the start and moving into the advance-to contact-phase, but once time crosses that indefinable moment that I cannot explain, a wonderful warm feeling washes over me….a feeling of being in control of my own emotions and destiny. The dye had been cast and there was no return.
It was that time for me now……approaching enemy shores on a dark and lonely river.
(Reservoir by StrongSteve)
The atmosphere on the boat had changed in a very subtle way. No one said anything but you could feel it. The SAS men began to check small details on their kit. Weapons were moved into more convenient positions, the smell of gun-oil permeating the air, masculine and comforting. Webbing was tightened over shoulders, shifting the weight of equipment onto the hips. Legs were stretched in the cramped confines of the boat.
A small red light came on as one of the Operators checked a plastic covered map with a small torch…….looking up at me he nodded his head, managing a white-toothed smile that shone through the darkness of the night and his camouflage cream. We were now well into Zambian waters and heading towards the Mulola River, one of the biggest rivers that emptied from that country into the Zambezi. We could see its gaping mouth ahead of us……a huge dark maw of emptiness seemingly waiting to swallow its victim. As we exited the Zambezi and entered the Mulola it became claustrophobic…….or so it seemed to me. After having vast expanses of water between the boat and land previously, we were now being enclosed by the high, almost invisible banks of the Mulola. The feeling of vulnerability returned to me, this would be the perfect place for an ambush and a mans imagination can run amok. This is good in some ways as it keeps you switched on. We were trained to always look for cover to move to if attacked. On land this is great idea but in the middle of a river it means absolutely bugger all. if the gooks were waiting for us we were well and truly fucked. Even if we made it to one of the banks, climbing to safe ground would be a challenge in the thick, rich vegetation. I unconsciously thought of gunfire and green tracers arching through the night sky……..willing them to stay away.
I cannot be sure how far we went up the river but probably about 2 kilometers as far as I can remember. Tony had the engines throttled right back now and we were just making enough way for the con to respond. At this speed the engines were almost silent but in the still dark night sounded to me like a pair of screaming banshees. it seemed to me that any gook within 100 clicks would hear us.
The map above shows our general route from the pick-up point to the drop-off point. Places of note along the way are also shown. The Mulola was, to the best of my recollection dry in some areas at that time and we navigated up river via quite narrow channels.
The boat rocked as the SAS Operator at the front stood up. He was studying the bank on the western side of the river. Understandably there had been no pre-recce of a drop-off point for security reasons and getting these lads off safely was now our top priority. It was past midnight and we also needed to get back before first light. We kept moving further into Zambia. The SAS navigator indicated to Tony that we should get closer to the bank and stop. He took out his map, again a little red torch was used, the only sound the two idling engines. The navigator moved us forward again…….one, two, three minutes passed and then just before the river took a sharp turn to the left he had Tony pull us into a wide hippo-track that led up the river bank. We had arrived at the drop-off point.
These men were well-trained. There was no need for chatter or briefings. That was all done before we left Rhodesia. And they were so silent….no clanking or scraping of metal. Preparation was perfect in all respects. Everyone knew what he had to do and what kit he needed to carry. They disembarked fast and before we knew it all except one had disappeared up the hippo-track to the top of the river bank. The boat seemed to breathe a huge sigh as the weight was lifted from her trusty old frame and she rose proudly up and out of the water, rocking gently to and fro. The Operator that remained with us spoke in low tones. He thanked us on behalf of the others and added that the plan had changed. We no longer needed to go back to the old farm at Mapeta, nor would we need to pick them up. We were to go straight back to Sibankwazi.
And then he was gone…….a grey ghost vanishing into the night. I was a little sad really and I would miss those guys.
There was a lot of water in the boat, all pooled at the stern under my booted feet. This was not as bad as it seemed and it would drain through a manually operated ball-cock on the way back when we got up on the plane. It was time for Tony and I to change over. The first thing to be done was to connect the reserve fuel tanks without killing the motors. We wanted to keep them running to avoid any type of technical failure on a restart. This was not too much of a challenge and we managed to bring the new fuel on-line without incident.
Tony took his place at the stern and I got behind the wheel…………it was time for the lonely journey back. Thats when my imagination started working overtime again. What if the evil gooks had planned it this way? Let us in and then shoot the shit out of us on the way out? it seemed plausible to me and something I might try if I were in their position. Just one of those things though and we needed to get moving.
Both engines were gurgling sweetly on idle and Tony gave me a thumbs-up to start moving astern. I took a sip of Coke from a can I had opened and shifted both engines into reverse……..and heard the sickening crack of a propeller shear-pin snapping. I had somehow manged to break the golden rule…….too many revs when changing gear normally equals shear-pin failure. I had just screwed-up fifty percent of our motive power and possibly placed us in harm’s way.
We were now two clicks up a Zambian Creek in a leaky boat with a dead engine………and the possibility we were being watched by bad guys was very real.
This mission was far from over………….
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
Copyright
© Mark Richard Craig and Fatfox9’s Blog, 2009-2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
On The Boats……Up The Creek With The SAS (Part 2: Also known as Eight Men In A Leaky Boat)
February 14, 2015
ON THE ZAMBEZI RIVER ENROUTE FROM SIBANKWAZI BRITISH SOUTH AFRICA POLICE CAMP TO MAPETA ISLAND
The wind had picked up as we made our way to the RV and the mystery contact man.
Although not dark it was overcast and last light would be upon us quicker than expected. I cursed myself severely for not adding some slack to our travel time. Too late now though as we were about half way there according to our 1:50,000 map. Tony was navigating and sitting right beside me on the hard wooden bench, spray flying at us over the bows of the Hercules, stinging the skin, but in a perverse way also refreshing. It had been a sweltering hot day and the coolness of the oncoming night was welcome.
I had the motors at full throttle and we were well up on the plane. The boat was perfectly trimmed and like this she handled like a thoroughbred, riding the wavelets smoothly as I ensured we ploughed through them at just the right angle. Tony and I were enjoying this, but ever vigilant. It was all too easy to fall into a false state of security on this river. Besides the possibility of gooks taking a shot at us there was the ever-present danger of logs and trees floating down the river. If we hit one of those at speed we were stuffed.
I was scared of the unknown. I’m not afraid to admit it. Still a young Sapper I took comfort in knowing we had been trained by the best instructors we could have wished for, both Infantry and Engineer……….but they cannot teach a man to be courageous, how to be dauntless. That has to come from inside when he is in deadly peril or facing an up close enemy who wants to kill him……only then will he really know the limits of his nerve and mettle. (Note that I did not use the word fearless…….my own opinion is that it is dangerous to be in the company of fearless men).
Tony nudged me and indicated on the map that we were approaching Mapeta Island (Latitude -18.05, Longitude 26.73333). It loomed out of the twilight, huge in its size. There was no mistaking it and I was pleased with the timing. We needed to be careful now as part of Mapeta Island was Zambian territory and there could be gooks present although we had never had trouble from there before.
The light was almost perfect as I throttled back and steered us to port, entering the Islands left side channel. Checking the map Tony made the call and pointed towards land. We were at the spot given to us as the RV. I just hoped we had not fucked-up.
We slipped slowly towards the river bank, the engines just ticking over to give enough headway to steer. Tony was standing on the bows now, doing his best to see and guide me around anything that may damage the boat. The wind was coming from behind us here and the exhaust from the motors blew over us, the acrid smell of the fuel mixture seeming to corrupt the beauty of this part of the great river.
I carefully eased the boat into a cleared area of the river bank I could see. This would make it easier for mooring and disembarking. I killed the two engines as we gently grounded in soft sand……..and then there was nothing.
The silence was almost deafening and anyone who has never experienced this void of any noise will never truly understand what I mean here. The only sound was the pinging of the engines cooling down…….and the gentle lapping of water against the side of the boat.
It was now simply a waiting game……….
Copyright
© Mark Richard Craig and Fatfox9’s Blog, 2009-2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
On The Boats……Up The River With The SAS (Part 1)
February 7, 2015
DEKA ARMY BASE: LATE AFTERNOON
Conversation between Camp OC and ourselves:
“I want you two wasters to get your boat ready for a night operation. You are to take your boat to this grid reference (him indicating on the map) and wait there for someone to make contact with you. You will need spare fuel tanks, 24 hours rations and full ammo. I cannot tell you anything else but make sure you get there just as last light falls and don’t fuck up on the position I just gave you”
That was it. Short and to the point.
It quickly became time to go. As Tony and I climbed into the back of the Mercedes 25 Troop Carrying Vehicle (TCV) we looked at each other and wondered what the hell this was all about. We didn’t even know who we were supposed to meet and more importantly, what for. The driver fired the Unimog up and with a characteristic torque-induced jerk we were off, easing through the camp entrance, and then turning sharp left onto the road to Sibankwazi. To our boat……..and the Zambezi River.
I had looked at the Ops Room map as the Captain briefed us and taken down the grid reference we were headed for. As far as my memory serves me it was at the position marked SAS pick-up position on the map shown below, near to Mapeta Island:
Tony and I had worked the time and distance calculation to get us to the Rendezvous Point (RV) just as last light was coming on. We were both edgy and rather subdued on the journey down to the boat, each of us respecting one another’s silence. Travelling the Zambezi River during the day was a challenge at the best of times, always having to ensure that we never strayed across the international boundary (Rhodesia/Zambia), which was an invisible line running up and down the river, but not necessarily in the middle. We were now going to be travelling on the water towards dusk and more than likely in darkness if our suspicions were right. Logic told us that no one would want us to meet them with a boat if they were not going to use it. We were spot on!
We had trained to work on the Zambezi River at night and knew that the landmarks that we used for daytime navigation, could also be used at night. We always chose high features that would silhouette easily against the sky or stars for navigation. Simply put we would know what feature to point our bows at and which feature our stern should be pointing at to stay safe. Quite an easy task in daylight but in darkness a mans eyes play games, confusing the mind as to what feature is what, what is true and what is false. Making you doubt your own judgement, possibly leading you into a bad place. No GPS in those days…….maps, compass, eyes and dead reckoning. I loved that kind of navigating though. Seat of the pants stuff and a small victory when you arrived at the right location.
We debussed at Sibankwazi, close to our boat. First on the agenda was to check in with the British South African Police (BSAP) personnel at the camp and let them know we were going out on the water. There was nothing to tell really, just that we were going up river and would stay in comms with them. We took comfort in knowing they would come out and help us if the shit hit the fan. They were good lads and always watched our backs. And they had nice, shiny fast boats with big guns on.
Tony and I finished our preparations, cleaning the inside of the boat, filling fuel tanks (2 per engine), checking our small supply of boat spares, running up the engines (which had no covers), checking radio comms with the police and Deka Base, and checking our personal weapons and kit. I would take us on the outward leg and Tony would bring us back. What happened in between we would share.
The picture below shows Sappers carrying out typical boat preparation activities. This is the exact same type of boat we were using on this mission (Basil Preston):
It was time to move out. I moved the throttles to the start position and made sure the engines were in neutral. Tony pumped the primer balls to get juice into the carbs, wound the starting rope around the first engine and pulled it. The engine fired and I adjusted the throttle to a gentle idle. He started the second engine and we were ready. I let the two engines idle for a minute or two while Tony made sure water was being expelled from the cooling system outlets.
I gave Tony a thumbs up and he slipped the mooring line. I moved both engines to reverse and we began gently edging astern and away from land. Once far enough out I put the engines in forward gear, pushed up the revs and pointed our bows north-west…..into the gathering gloom……we were on our way.
The picture below gives an idea of the Zambezi River at night……..a very dodgy place to be, especially if there was no moon:
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
Copyright
© Mark Richard Craig and Fatfox9’s Blog, 2009-2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
On The Boats……Spinning Flywheels and Dodgy Sergeants
December 17, 2014
I received this personal account from Neil Potter…….another veteran of the Rhodesian Engineer Boats!
Neil takes up the post from here:
I had the dubious honour of falling over and between a pair of those Evinrudes, running without the covers on, after just pull starting both. The idiot at the controls, a 2 Indep. NS Sargeant fresh out of Hooters, decided that it would be funny if he gave both motors full throttle when I asked him to give the port motor more revs (via the warm up lever as I had instructed him beforehand as that motor always stalled). I had both legs badly cut up by the flywheels, a hundred plus stitches later, and friction burns around the wounds. What really irked me was a few years later I pulled my file in the orderly room in Kariba and read his statement to the effect that I had caused the accident by pull starting the motors in gear! He even had one of his troopies verify that by making another statement to that effect, even though that individual was not even on the boat with the others going out on patrol.
One of the drawbacks of not having a crew member with you I guess, but I’d enjoy a conversation with that idiot if I could only remember his name.
Now that’s just the sort of thing that can happen when you have idiots at the controls. Good to know Neil got out of it in one piece though and a big thanks to him for the recollection.
For those of you that don’t know what an outboard motor flywheel look like, here is a picture for illustration:
The flywheel is the big round black thing on top and when the engine is running it spins at very high revolutions. Imagine two of those spinning side by side and like Neil, falling onto them because some asshole opened the throttles………..and our flywheels were a lot less smooth than this one. We had all sorts of jagged bits sticking out to bite us.
More on outboard motors, flywheels, shear-pins and other animals in the next post.
Please also have a look at my website dedicated to Rhodesian and South African Military Engineers. Join us on the forums by using the following link:
http://www.sasappers.net/forum/index.php
Copyright
© Mark Richard Craig and Fatfox9’s Blog, 2009-2014. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
On The Boats…………(Part 1)
December 6, 2014
I watched the snake slither along the wooden rafter of the hut, its black tongue flicking ahead, feeling the way. Lying on my bed and looking up at the bright green reptile I wondered what my escape plan was. It was the first time a mamba had come into our billet but I always knew our luck would run out one day. We were after all in the middle of the bush, working out of Deka Army Base and snakes were quite commonplace. I didn’t like snakes then and I don’t like snakes now. Just one of those things. Anything else I can handle.
Here is a picture of a Green Mamba (greenmambasnake.com)…..a very dodgy visitor indeed:
There were two of us. Both Sappers from 1 Engineer Squadron and attached to the infantry unit at the camp. I think it was 1 Independent Company from Wankie based there most of the time on Border Control operations. Tony Carinus and I were tasked with operating a Hercules Assault Boat within our area of responsibility on the Zambezi River, and our boat was moored with the British South Africa Police (BSAP) boats at the Sibankwazi Police post. We had approximately 60 kilometres of river to patrol which was quite a stretch and we tried to cover this as often as we could.
Our boats were shite-looking and the police boats were all shiny and painted in cute pastel colours with lots of aerials on them so they could listen to Sally Donaldson and Forces Requests on Sundays. Papa5 was a particularly nice police boat that I would have given my left testicle to take onto the river but big John Arkley, the Member-In-Charge of the Sibankwazi BSAP would not allow it. We never had any aerials as we had no one in particular to talk to and the boats were painted a matt dark green, or at least they were green when they were new which must have been in 1945 or earlier.
Here is a picture of one of our boats (Basil Preston):
Please note the warped wooden seats made for extreme anal comfort, and the generally dodgy state of seaworthiness. I must say that this boat at least has engine covers on the twin 40 ponypower Evinrude outboards so is probably a VIP version. A close look at the red fuel tank also indicates it was probably “borrowed” from a civvy fisherman on a long-term basis as ours were a dull drab brown colour. Either that or the QM ran out of camo paint or brushes, or both.
Here is a picture of the area of the Sibankwazi Police Post (www.bsap.org) where we moored up.
Our boat was not allowed under the shelter because there were too many shiny police boats in there. We normally tied up to the left of the shelter near the launching area (see above). Having said that the bobbies were always very good to Tony and I and we had many good piss-ups and braais with them. They were also destined to get me out of some fairly serious shit in the years to come.
Tony and I normally planned our own activities and it seemed in retrospect that the infantry Sunray (OC) at the camp never had much interest in what we got up to all day. Only occasionally would we drop-off or pick-up infantry sticks along the Rhodesian side of the river. This resulted in a lot of tiger fishing, game viewing, stopping off at Msuna Mouth or Deka Drum resorts for beers and a meal, or simply patrolling up and down the river looking for gook crossing points or even better still, some gooks.
This is the Deka Drum area of the Zambezi (Craig Haskins)………
A pretty enjoyable time for me and Tony in general and I have fond memories of my days on the boats. We did however have some dodgy experiences and these will part of the next few posts.
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
Copyright
© Mark Richard Craig and Fatfox9’s Blog, 2009-2014. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.
Fatfox9's Blog 