Battle Group Alpha and the 47th Brigade
While BG Bravo and Charlie were tasked with containing 21st Brigade at the Lomba crossing, BG Alpha was despatched westward, up-river, to disrupt and slow 47th Brigade progress.
After three or four days of probing and intelligence gathering, we finally squared up to advance units of 47th.
On 16 September, our 40-vehicle convoy moved under cover of darkness to within two clicks of enemy positions, after sunrise we begun moving forward in integrated battle formation meaning Alpha Company Ratel 20s were alongside Charlie’s 90s, and just as in training Infantrymen would stap uit (step out) of their vehicles on final approach.
33 Bravo and 33 Charlie had still not rejoined the Squad following critical engine failure two weeks before accounting for some 15% of our capacity, reduced to a ten-vehicle attack, those Ratel 20 crews alongside us added devastating firepower against what was predicted to be light Armour and Infantry targets.
Visibility across the frontline was restricted to three vehicles either side of us because of forest density. The SADF attack plan included a pair of Mirage fighters scheduled to synchronise with our advance, delivering a well-timed bombing run designed to set our opposition on the back foot moments before we came within range.
We heard the jets screaming in steep and fast from before releasing their ordinance from an altitude of just 500 metres. They were very close to our front line.
Incandescent airburst explosions followed a few seconds later; these were so close it seemed as if our air force was bombing us! [We later discovered there had been a little mix up, pilots mistaking our vehicles for enemy targets under the canopy of trees]. The ordinance was white phosphorous – ugly stuff. Just the smallest pellet of this chemical sizzles as it continues to burrow its way deep into flesh causing horrific injuries, ideal for raining a blanket of pain onto troops in trenches. We counted ourselves fortunate they missed, but the surprise attack disrupted forward movement across our partially blind frontline. [I’m led to believe our line never fully recovered its shape throughout the duration of contact].
Once deployed on the ground, Infantrymen were tasked with trench clearance, 20mm APCs following in their wake and dealing with bigger targets.
Inside their sun-roof Ratels, 81mm Mortar boys trailed the formation, ready to unleash a barrage of HE bombs on command.
As we apprehensively moved through dense jungle on final approach to the target area, my senses strained to detect any movement through the deep-green bushes and undergrowth ahead, I was keenly aware of our infantry soldiers on either side of me and was secretly grateful not to be quite as exposed as those brave lads. I’m sure we all felt some fear but this was suppressed by the urgency of our situation and almost industrial quantities of adrenaline coursing our bodies.
Before too long we received our first direct incoming, albeit inaccurate, enemy fire from positions still invisible among the greenery ahead. The crackle and chatter of rapid AK47 fire, the ‘phwip’ of a near-by bullet tearing through the air or scything through leaves of nearby foliage opened adrenal taps one hundred percent. We’d been dreading, but expecting, this moment since entering Angola over two weeks before.
Another piece of the puzzle was forming in front of us.
Now the crew seemed to engage autopilot, all the drills, all the training, all the opfok, had prepared us well for this moment. Not a word was uttered on the internal vehicle comm’s channel other than those essential for combat.
We returned fire into the general area ahead, continuing to push forward until muzzle flashes from enemy weapons were close enough to be visible. Bullets ricocheted off our vehicle, a sound we had never heard before but recognised instinctively. Across the frontline, crews immediately responded to the threat launching into fire-and-move mode, picking out possible targets for attention.
Protocol required us to hold a straight line, to move forward in concert at a pace manageable by foot soldiers to ensure none of them were crushed by the wheels of our vehicles during tactical fire-and-move action.
The 81mm mortar group began directing fire onto enemy positions less than 80 metres ahead of our line.
32 Alpha was close enough to the adjacent vehicles to allow my driver to manage the forward movement in tandem with our neighbours 32 Bravo and 32 Charlie while I scoured the forest trying to pinpoint opposition positions for my gunners attention.
We moved forward into a small clearing at which point incoming enemy gunfire around us increased dramatically. A barrage of small arms and occasional RPG fire erupted from a nest 40-60 metres ahead of 32 Alpha.
We quickly countered with HE and anti-personnel bombs while our brace of venerable Browning LMG’s sprayed bullets in support of the exposed Infantry boys alongside us. That first enemy nest was quickly subdued although further down the line on the left, our brothers in Troops One and Three still seemed heavily involved in action. Even from a height of two-and-a-half metres, head poking out the turret, it was extremely difficult to see through the foliage or get an accurate picture of any damage we’d inflicted on the nest.
Minutes later, muzzle flashes again betrayed enemy positions just ahead, we were so close had it not been for the foliage we would have seen the whites of their eyes.
Once more we joined Infantrymen alongside to neutralise the threat. Radio chatter on the Squad channel started increasing from guys left front. Seemingly poor visibility in the densely wooded contact area was causing crews considerable difficulty.
Troop 3 commander, 2nd Lt Adrian Hind, lost contact with the main body of Charlie Squad, another vehicle, a Ratel 20, got beached in a trench while exposed to enemy fire. Second Lt Martin Bremer and his crew bravely conducted a recovery operation which required Bremer to exit his vehicle, release the tow bar from its housing on the vehicles upper flank, connect the heavy tow bar to both his and the stranded Ratel before his driver could yank it from the potential death-trap.
Cloete awarded Bremer an Honoris Crux medal for his bravery in recovering the stricken Ratel.
I saw a number of similarly brave acts over the following two months but curiously this was the only bravery medal Cloete awarded to a member of Charlie squadron.
We were still coming under fairly heavy attack when my adrenaline spiked again. I made out the flank of a Soviet APC moving into position through the bush some 60 metres ahead. Visibility was poor and in those conditions cammo-green vehicles were hard to distinguish so I was unable to identify exactly which variant of armour we were facing. Nevertheless, I could see corrugated steel side walls and instinctively knew the vehicle carried at least one mounted gun capable of cutting open a Ratel and was probably disgorging a fresh cohort of FAPLA foot soldiers into our immediate area.
I immediately called up a HEAT round, identified the target to my gunner, who could not miss from such close range.
Seconds later, a flash fizzed on the vehicle’s dark green flank – Zeelie found his target! We delivered a second package to the target for good measure. Soldiers still inside the vehicle did not get the opportunity to disembark. More skeletons in closet.
Taking that first armoured target so easily buoyed my confidence. We’d faced a hard target, our weapon system and gunner had done exactly what they were supposed to. No triumphalism, just a target, there was much still to do.
Intel specialist Brad Saunders, riding on command Ratel Three Zero (30) just behind us at the centre of our formation, watched as an RPG floated inches above their turret between his vehicle and 30 Alpha, the 2IC command vehicle. A little later Captain Cloete took RPG shrapnel to his elbow from a more accurate RPG but to his credit maintained command.
We continued working the lively trenches ahead, jockeying positions as per training but by then our forward movement had all but ceased as the enemy held sturdy in defence of their position.
The Ratel remained impervious to the continually chattering small-arms fire, unfortunately this wasn’t true for exposed Infantrymen alongside bravely going through their drills.
Although Infantrymen could drop prone to escape an incoming barrage of automatic fire from trenches they had nowhere to hide or take cover, no foxhole protection from mortar attack; and that was to be the cause BG Alpha’s first fatality. During such an attack Rifleman P.A. Visagie of Alpha Company was critically wounded. His comrades rallied round, while we offered suppressing fire, quickly returning him to the relative safety of their Ratel.
Considering the volume of continuous incoming enemy fire across our 300 metre frontline it was quite surprising his was the only fatality on our first clash with 47th Brigade.
Shortly after Visagie was killed, approximately an hour after battle start, we were ordered to deploy smoke grenades from turret pods and withdraw from contact.
We estimated that in addition to significant incoming mortar and small-arms fire, as many as 100 RPG rounds had been loosed at our frontline. Some crews reported surviving glancing hits at a strike angle too shallow to penetrate. Some even said they’d survived direct hits but where the closeness of contact meant the grenade hadn’t yet armed itself failing to detonate on impact! Fuck, what luck!
We never saw bullets whizzing past nor mortars falling until detonation whereas an RPG is large enough, at about 2 ft in length, and travels slowly enough to be observed rocketing through the air, so Ratel drivers with ringside seats were understandably quite shaken from their ordeal helplessly watching these projectiles coming at them from short range. They could do nothing but await the bang that ended it all, or just a harmless ‘pop’ as the RPG pinged harmlessly off the vehicle.
For the crew of 33 Bravo, a direct hit should’ve spelled the end. Driver Raymond Clarke watched in slow motion as an RPG shot its molten metal core through his reinforced driver’s window inches from his face.
Two things saved his life. Firstly, the RPG struck at quite a shallow angle, meaning it had slightly further to travel through the hardened glass, secondly, the crew later ascertained that the two-inch thick protective pane had been installed inside-out thus changing the aspect of the glass – something, I believe, to do with the way the laminated glass is designed, or the softness of the inner sheets of glass which, when inverted became the outer sheets and better suited to slowing the incoming projectile.
It seemed a miraculously lucky escape, but whatever the reason that RPG didn’t fully penetrate their vehicle, it was a desperately close call. They were reminded of their good fortune every time we mounted up because Tiffies didn’t carry spare side driver-windows, 33 Bravo spent the remainder of Operation Modular driving with partial visibility through an RPG splintered pane.
Later that night, in TB, guys were keen to do some communal cooking and sit around recounting our experiences. Hind copped a bit of stick for dragging the left flank off course but overall the consensus was Charlie Squad had done OK despite not gaining territory nor inflicting significant damage on 47th Brigade. We all agreed FAPLA muzzle flashes seemed almost to be coming out of the earth which had to have been because they were so well entrenched.
Intercepts indicated a significant number of enemy casualties and a number of armoured vehicles destroyed.
If I’d paid more attention during JL’s, I might’ve stood a better chance of identifying the armoured vehicle Zeelie destroyed during the contact, but in my defence it was little more than a partial silhouette through dense bush. We’d never trained for such close-quarters low-visibility combat, it wasn’t Armoured Corps natural habitat.
Visagie’s unfortunate death brought about another review of our modus oper-andi when planning future contacts. Infantrymen would not be required to stap-uit in such unfavourable conditions in future. This decision invariably saved lives during Ops Modular.
Photo 31 Squad leader 2nd Lt O’Connor offers me a fly swatter the day after our first attack on 47th Brigade. (Len M. Robberts)
Captain Cloete got cassevac’d to Rundu that evening for surgery to repair his arm.
Venter relinquished command of 31 Alpha, standing down as Troop Sergeant, he was replaced by Corporal Siewert Wiid, the talented front-man on my tou-trek team.
Adrian Hind went on to earn himself something of a reputation for getting lost in the jungle. A softly spoken, son of a vicar, he’d wanted to join the army from a young age but like most officers, struggled a bit with map-n-compass. What he lacked in direction-finding he more than made up for in his commitment to protocol and willingness to lead.
He and I got on well, but my laid-back attitude frustrated him as much as the seriousness with which he exerted his authority did me and, what’s more, the bugger was still a virgin! In my opinion, he definitely needed a fun weekend at Midmar Dam with my friend-girl Queen V before any more killing occurred in our battle group. We should not be sent to kill, or be killed, until we’ve had V!
While the Captain was away getting patched up, 61 Mech’s second-incommand, Major Danie Laas, assumed responsibility for Charlie Squad, which was not only an honour for us but it also afforded the Major, an Armoured Corps man to the very core, an opportunity to lead us into our next skirmish a few days later on TG1 and forward elements of 47th Brigade. Laas showed he still knew his stuff but again, FAPLA adopted well-entrenched defensive positions which were incredibly difficult to clear.
Stalemate.
Cloete bravely returned to lead our fully reformed Squadron (33B & C having finally caught up with us following engine replacement) a week or so later partly recuperated from his wounds and surgery. His return to the front was an important symbolic and psychological gesture for the lads. No, three weeks on the front, a number of skirmishes and near misses behind us, Charlie Squad remained very much intact. This was great for self-confidence. The longer we went without serious loss, the more we started to believe we might just survive the maelstrom unscathed.
Before issuing that evening’s orders, Cpt. PJ ‘one-arm-bandit’ Cloete called Charlie together and delivered a stirring speech during which he informed us that hospital medics had offered him exemption from frontline duties due to his injury, but he added, “Can you believe I chose to come back to be with you manne (men) instead of returning to recuperate in RSA with my girl?” He went on, “ … It seems you buggers have got to me.”
Cloete’s arm remained half-cocked and bandaged for the remainder of Modular and, much to the chagrin of the command vehicle crew, his temporary disability meant he relied more heavily on them to attend his needs, sometimes, I’m told, with amusing consequences.
For the remaining days of September there was little respite. We were constantly on the move, shuttling between contact points, pocking and probing at enemy positions while our commanders gathered intelligence on FAPLA’s progress along and over the Lomba.
Enemy aircraft conducted regular daily sorties over our positions, normally at high altitude. Usually they’d hang about for an hour or so, seeking out their prey, then they’d be gone, we knew they’d be back later in the day. Less frequently, SAAF jets flew in from the south but these were normally quick-strike bombing runs on a specified target.
There were accounts of enemy fighter jet bombing strikes but thankfully none of it was near us, except on one occasion, when they dropped cluster bombs in very close proximity to our temporary base. We visited foxholes.
Photo 32 There were often calls for some minor injury or other. L/Cpl Cragg the Medic attends James Sharp, at gunpoint. Bombardier Mc Cormack looks on while cheeky Rueben Linde gets close to camera. (Martin Bremer)
Artillery bombardment was an almost constant feature of this period with both sides seeking to frustrate movement and occasionally score a few easy wins from distance.
On the ground, despite our diminutive size and inadequate air cover, we were holding our own. Although we hadn’t achieved any significant victories, mainly as a consequence of the terrain, trenches and an enemy extremely well practised in the art of tactical withdrawal. Between us, SADF’s 20th Brigade had managed to delay FAPLA’s 21st Brigade at their crossing point and retard 47th Brigade in their immediate objective of reaching and supporting the Lomba bridgehead. Enemy losses were mounting but both 21st and 47th Brigades had plenty in reserve while 59th, just north of the river, was well within striking striking range with their 82mm mortars and vicious Stalin Organ (Multiple Rocket launcher – MRL).
Living in a war-zone is a unique experience; there were days of indolent inactivity and preparation, punctuated by scheduled and unscheduled moments of intensity the likes of which are almost impossible to describe or compare to anything in normal life experience. For example, one morning over rat-pack coffee, my mate Anthony De Robillard described how he and a few of his crewmates from our 81mm mortar fire-group, dismounted their Ratel to have a Sunday morning chin-wag with the UNITA lads assigned to their detachment. At this stage they were separated from the forward position of 21st Brigade by about 3,000 metres of open Shona. Despite this our battle-hardened soldiers felt fairly relaxed hidden from view within their tree line. They were dead wrong.
Photo 33 61 Charlie launches an 81mm mortar through a ‘sunroof’ Ratel. (Anthony de Robillard)
Moments later the penny dropped when an all too familiar sound of enemy 82mm mortars started whistling toward them and exploding only 100 metres shy of their position.
The second volley closer still.
The normally laid-back flip-flop wearing gunners, more used to hurling bombs from behind the frontline than being on it, sprinted, nay bolted, with rude haste, for protection in their Ratels.
Drivers fired up their engines and quickly moved to new positions deeper in the forest, while adrenaline-fuelled gunners prepared to launch a return volley.
Soon thereafter UNITA boys urged them to withdraw before more enemy gunners got ranged in.
Wisely, De Robillard and his newly wised-up pals made a tactical withdrawal from the area, fortunately none the worse for their Sunday morning bolt.