When the assault started, there was still no communication from Ratte, so Ferreira decided to send Viljoen with the Cessna 185 to try to reach him. For the second time, Chisholm would fly unplanned and continue for most of the day:
On the day of the attack, E.V. [Eddie Viljoen] ran the war from the air, being in contact with all the stopper groups and observation posts. We flew slightly to the west of the target due to the heavy ground fire from the enemy and also while they were firing their 122-millimetre rockets, which were landing about six or seven kilometres on the other side of the river beyond W.R. [Willem Ratte].
Via the Cessna, Ratte managed to make contact with Ferreira on the A52 radio and informed him that Savate was much bigger and stronger than expected. But it was too late to stop: the bombardment was in progress and the attack force was advancing towards the base. Van Eeden remembers:
A plane arrived, E.V. was in it, and W.R. made contact with him. W.R. informed him what was going on, but the next moment we heard the 14.5 at the airstrip and knew Charlie Company had arrived there. Then the heavy weapons in the base opened up on 32 Battalion. From the tree, W.R. gave fire control orders to the mortar group, which was a huge success because we could clearly see what was happening in the base.
The FALA guerrillas deployed between Cuangar and Savate either did not deploy or did not do their work when the bombardment started to prevent FAPLA interference from Cuangar or, more likely, from the forward post that Ratte had come across. Anderson recalls vehicles carrying FAPLA soldiers approaching Savate from south of their mortar position:
Everything did not go according to plan. Billy Faul mined the road to the south of Savate. We deployed about 500 metres from the road in the tree line. While busy with the bombardment, two or three GAZ trucks approached on the road from the south.
We ceased fire and waited for the vehicles to detonate the first mine. What we did not know was that FAPLA had debussed from their vehicles. I wanted to bombard them with the 81s firing ‘out of the hand’, only with the pipe mounted on the ground plate, but C.B. [Chris Brown] prevented me. I wanted to prevent at all cost the FAPLA convoy reaching the base. Because C.B. was the mortar group commander, I listened to him. He said it was more important for the mortars to protect the advancing battalion than to tackle a couple of vehicles. I did not agree and we had a hefty argument. My Calvinistic upbringing won and I just left it.
When the advance began, it was clear that the mortar bombardment had not had the desired effect of keeping the enemy’s heads down and giving the assault force time to reach their positions. FAPLA were waiting for them before letting loose with their arsenal of weapons. Grobler was waiting for Muller to give the signal to advance and when it came the action soon turned out not to be the usual fight. Grobler remembers the Alpha Company attack:
At 09:00 we were in position and the mortars started to fire. I opened a tin of meat and started to eat. According to plan, the bombardment should be for one hour – more than enough time to eat. Some of the troops just shook their heads, they had other things on their minds, like kicking FAPLA’s backside. All of a sudden, all hell broke loose. I heard strange whistling sounds coming from Savate. I asked the troops what it was; they replied, ‘Mono-Katyusha.’ It continued. If you think that the bombardment took one hour, and you look at the fight ahead, it would tell you that our bombardment was of no use. We would possibly have been better off without the bombardment, which gave FAPLA time to consolidate. When the bombardment started, they were busy preparing food.
After an hour we heard Charl Muller’s voice: ‘All stations forward’, such a relaxed command. Charl sounded very gatvol [he’d had enough]. The effect of his voice, however, was wonderful. He was calm, not bothered with this massive firefight that we were about to walk into. It boosted our self-confidence. Just think for yourself what the effect would have been if he had given a panicked ‘Forward!’ We would have stayed just there. That just shows what calibre Charl was.
The leader element got up, shouting ‘Avançar!’ The troops followed and the shit started. It was rough. It was the heaviest firefight I had had up to then and since. It was intensive. Every now and then we had to take cover to regain control. Then again, Charl with his ‘All stations forward’ … retreat was not part of his vocabulary, we would have walked through a wall with him.
We reached the trenches. Rod Howden’s experience took over. He was the one who during all the adrenalin and excitement still remembered to do trench clearing. Some of the blokes forgot about it. We gave all the bodies another shot, just to make sure they were dead, making sure they could not shoot us in the back when we passed them. Some blokes forget to do it – this would cost Charl his life. According to Dave Hodgson, while the fire was very heavy and we had to lie down, Corporal Dave [Cline] had run forward, stood to attention and asked him for a hand grenade. Hodgson screamed at him, asking if he was mad and that he had to lie down, but gave him a grenade.
Charl gave his last command: ‘All stations forward.’ I remember it was so calm, so full of self-confidence. He was in control of the situation.
An explosion close to our line wounded Rifleman Pedro Vika so seriously that he could not move forward. Corporal Dave, the Rhodesian, was also wounded. He was basically out of action for the rest of the year in 1 Military Hospital in Pretoria.
What happened (according to Pedro) was that Charl [had] moved past a bunker. As company commander, he was behind the line to control it during the attack. Those in front of him had not cleared the bunker and when Charl jumped over the trench (apparently he was already wounded, I cannot confirm it because I did not see his body), a FAPLA grabbed him. He hit the FAPLA and jumped again. In that movement the FAPLA shot him. Pedro was also seriously wounded and could not help Charl. We started to run out of ammunition. The troops had AK rifles. They threw me full magazines to ensure continuous fire. Some of them used FAPLA weapons to continue the firefight.
Charlie and Foxtrot were pinned down (Sam by the 14.5s and Foxtrot in the firefight). We, however, continued; nobody was keeping us waiting. We were without Charl and did not know it. We reached the buildings and started with house clearing. I still remember, when I entered a building, I opened the door and started to shoot: it was a pantry. The tins were full of sausages, and when the bullets hit them, they burst open and the sausages looked like fingers coming out, wanting to grab me.
No one had ever imagined that so many people would be killed or wounded. The troops carrying the wounded followed behind the assault line and were in danger of being shot by the enemy running between the assault line and the echelon. Rifleman Alberto Fonseça was carrying a wounded comrade to the medical point when he nearly fell prey to FAPLA:
We attacked and started to advance. What happened was, after the fight was already in motion … the enemy passed behind us. Once the enemy had flanked us, I was busy carrying a brother who had taken a bullet in his arm. Then, from there I was holding that brother of mine, the others just kept on advancing forward, and so when I lifted my brother, we could advance and go forward.
When I got a fright behind me, I heard people calling behind me, ‘Stop, stop! Don’t move any more or we will shoot you!’ So I stopped and when I looked back, there was that confusion of gunfire and bombs and stuff, so I was thinking that it was our brothers. And so I started calling them: ‘Come, come! Look, our brother here has been hit!’ When they reached me I saw what they were wearing and realised they were enemy soldiers. They were wearing black berets and I knew they were not on our side. ‘Ay caramba! I’m caught.’ I put my hands up. They came up to me and said, ‘Don’t you move! If you do, we’ll shoot you.’ And so I stayed like that with hands up and my brother was on the ground because he had already been wounded.
And so one of them started saying to the others, ‘Hey, comrades, this guy, we’re not going to kill him. We going to take him because our boss said that if we capture anyone from 32 Battalion, we must not kill him!’ There was a lieutenant with two stars on his shoulder, one of the enemy. He said, ‘What about this guy that is injured?’ and another person responded, ‘That guy that is injured, we don’t need him, we’ll just take this guy that isn’t hurt.’ They said to me, ‘Okay, let’s start walking.’ We started walking away; there was gunfire. We had walked about 200 metres when we heard a gunshot from behind. Bang! They had just killed my friend who was injured. I was also scared. I said to myself, ‘Fine, they’ve already killed the other guy, today I’m going to die.’ We continued walking.
As we were walking, the bombs that the enemy were firing from the cannons were landing in the area towards where we were walking. So as soon as the bombs started landing, we all fell to the ground, hiding so that we were not hit by shrapnel. Myself and the enemy all fell to the ground, so as these bombs were landing, the air became full of dust, and we were in the middle of the dust. I started crawling with my arms and legs, and I felt that I was not hit, so I got up and started running. As soon as I started running one of them that was on my left started shouting, ‘Hey, comrade, that man is running away!’ And so they all started running after me, screaming, ‘Hey! Comrade! Stop or we will shoot! We are going to kill you! Stop! Stop!’ I just kept on running and they started shooting at me, and I kept on running until I came out on this road, the road we came into Savate on.
As soon as I hit the road I carried on running and then our car came. Lieutenant Muller came in the car to make a blockade. So as soon as he came they started shooting, so I took off my cap and held it up to show them. I shouted, ‘Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! It’s me!’ and so when the car arrived they stopped, ordered me to get in the car, and as I was climbing up they asked, ‘Hey, what’s the problem?’ and I said, ‘I was captured by the enemy!’
‘So you were captured?’
‘Yes, I was, I was helping a friend that was shot and because of that I was moving slowly and trying to catch up, and the enemy came up behind me, and they wanted to take me alive, but they couldn’t because of the bombs going off, and so from there I ran!’
Possibly because of the topography of the area, VHF radio communication between the platoons began to intermittently break down and for long periods it was impossible to speak to one another. Alpha Company were fighting to break into the trenches. Hodgson remembers they got fierce resistance:
I still remember the muffled clicks of rifle safety catches being set from safe to fire. That was the last normal sound for the next few hours. As the mortars plopped down the pipes all hell broke loose. Charl shouted ‘Avançar, Alpha, avançar!’ and we started moving forward. Then a whistling steam locomotive roared over our heads, leaves fell from the trees and progress halted for a second when the anguished shout came from one of our troops, mono-Katyusha 122-millimetre rockets whistled over our heads, and yet Alpha advanced. Our platoon mortars were firing so rapidly that by the time we reached the first bunkers we had no more shells. To add to this predicament, Johannes, my best LMG [light machine gun] gunner, let rip a long burst of fire at an enemy in FAPLA uniform who jumped from a bunker in front of us. She was almost cut in two. Johannes was so incensed that he poured automatic fire into the bunker’s opening.
Then two things happened that almost stopped the whole Alpha Company advance. Firstly, Johannes’s LMG seized up solid and, despite his attempts, would not fire a shot, and we drew deadly fire from the north, killing two of my guys: a troop and my radio man. The immediate reaction of the troops was to go down and the advance stopped. Screaming into the radio for clarity on whether it was friendly fire or not, we tried to get hold of Charl or Tim [Patrick]. There was no answer. Little did we know that neither was able to answer.
With no company commander to direct their attack and under heavy enemy defensive fire, Alpha came to a halt. Foxtrot Company continued advancing, which resulted not only in a gap opening between them and Alpha, through which some enemy broke to attack from the back, but also in a flank attack on Muller and Corporal A. Stolz of Foxtrot 17 platoon, in which Muller was shot and killed.
The platoon leaders had to get Alpha Company moving again. Freeman remembers how Sergeant Pedro ‘Kioto’ Gomes, a fearless former ELNA commander who, together with his battalion, joined 32 Battalion after the Angolan Civil War, got Alpha 2 to advance:
I was utterly, completely, totally clueless in the ways of battle. I simply followed the example of those around me that day, and none more so than Kioto, who was now, realistically rather than nominally, in command of Alpha 2.
The madman Kioto got up in a hail of fire, slung his rifle and started capering from foot to foot like an organ-grinder’s monkey, while singing old FNLA battle songs and exhorting his Alpha 2 troops to get up and ‘Avançar!’ I can clearly remember his broad, white-toothed grin as he put his boot into one guy who showed extreme reluctance.
The result was that Alpha 2 got up and, so as not to be shamed, Alpha 1 and 3 did too. It wasn’t long before we breached the base. There was an intense escalation in the defensive fire but, despite it, Kioto and I (we were a bit ahead of the rest of the platoon, by accident not design) heard the clanking of a tracked vehicle. We were crossing the perimeter road and looked down; our ears hadn’t fooled us, there was the spoor of what we thought was a tank.
Kioto ran across the road and started taking heavy fire from a group of FAPLA hiding behind a corrugated-iron structure. He told me to toss a couple of grenades. I did, but before anyone else could respond, a slight, ‘black is beautiful’-smeared figure came sprinting through and emptied a Tokarev pistol into the shocked defenders. It was Rod Howden, one of the original ‘when-we’s’ who’d had a right topsy-turvy career in the Rhodesian Army before joining 32 Battalion just a week before Savate.
Hodgson’s Alpha 1 platoon, however, was reluctant to advance. He recalls:
Our orders were to advance, and that is what we did. We could not let the enemy in front of us outflank Charlie or Foxtrot companies. One of either Peet [Sergeant Peet Horn], Rod or Grobbies [Lance Grobler] threw a white phosphorus grenade into the bunker. I threw my AK to Johannes, picked up a stick, and between us, Peet, Grobbies and myself, we started clobbering any troop who dared to stay behind cover. [Hodgson did not mention in his recollections that his AK, before giving it to the machine gunner, probably saved his life. A B10 recoilless-gun rocket detonated a few metres in front of him, not only killing his signaller and another troop, but also driving four pieces of shrapnel into the wooden butt of his AK rifle, splintering it completely, as it shielded his stomach.] Our goal was to reach the buildings in town and take cover, reconsolidate and try to make communications with Charl. Bullets, mortars, grenades – nothing was going to stop us reaching our goal. As we advanced, Rod came up to me and asked if I was fucking mad, and he gave me his backup pistol, a small 7.65-millimetre if memory serves. I was mad. My guys were dying and taking a hell of a beating from the north.
I will never forget that impish smile on Grobbies’s face as he rushed behind anyone who looked as if they would stop advancing. Peet, in his unflappable way, was helping with the wounded and redistributing ammunition. Poor Horst [Heimstadt] was reeling from the northern fire, as he was directly adjoining the airstrip. Our instruction was to leave the wounded, and Charlie and Echo platoons would look after them.
Then the ultimate confusion: we were drawing heavy fire from behind. Could it be the unknown Charlie or Echo platoon, or was it an enemy in between? Your mind will not allow you to process this. How can Charlie and Echo be shooting at us? Impossible! Then a glimpse of a FAPLA uniform and we now knew we had big shit. Somehow, these arseholes had managed to get between us and Echo. We had reached the first buildings of the town. The only place that we were not receiving fire was from where the enemy were supposed to be, the east, and from the south we heard spasmodic fire, but at least none in our direction.
What was to have been an easy run for Charlie Company turned out to be a nightmare. They were formed up north of the runway, which marked the ‘border’ between Charlie and Alpha companies. At 11:39, Charlie Company’s advance was cut short by a 14.5-millimetre anti-aircraft gun utilised in the ground role. What on the aerial photographs had been interpreted as a vehicle park was in fact the Savate air-defence position. During the initial planning phase of Operation Tiro-Tiro, no one had thought that the runway at Savate was functional and that FAPLA would defend it. Heap tried to advance, but soon realised it was suicide. He explains:
Very carefully, in the morning’s first light, we navigated to the advance line and took up position. I informed Falcon when we were in position, I cannot remember the time, all I know was that we had to wait for the mortar bombardment to start, which would be the signal to cross the advance line.
Around 09:00 the mortar bombardment started, and we started our attack on the transport park north of the airfield. We advanced in an extended line. We heard the bombs exploding to our south. We advanced for about 100 to 150 metres when all hell broke loose on us! I first thought that we were in the killing ground of an ambush, as trees and plants around us were simply cut down by 14.5-millimetre bullets. I could not see any enemy yet and we attacked with battle talk, and fire and movement in the fashion we had done so many times at Lekkerhoekie [part of the training area in Buffalo] and during other enemy contacts.
By now there was virtually no cover and everybody used what little cover they could find for protection. Still no enemy in sight, only the sound of the 14.5 in everybody’s ears. Over the radio my platoon commanders reported about troops that were already dead or seriously wounded and needed urgent medical treatment. We had not advanced even a hundred metres yet. It became clear to me that we would never win the firefight because the enemy weapons were much more numerous and dangerous than ours. I ordered a ceasefire and instructed everybody to move back to a safe area.
I tried to reach Falcon by radio, but did not succeed, as they were busy with a heavy firefight to the south of the airstrip. Big Daddy was in a Cessna. I communicated with him and explained the situation. I requested permission to stop the attack on the ‘vehicle park’. He was furious and accused me of being a bang gat [afraid]. I felt humiliated, but explained to him that it was impossible to attack any further, as it would be suicide. He communicated with Falcon, after which we were tasked to join the echelon vehicles.
The enemy forces from the Charlie Company objective were now attacking Alpha Company from the north. Foxtrot Company’s advance was steady and they did not encounter much resistance. They soon reached the town, leaving only one more objective to clear. Ross explains:
Details were not forthcoming, and the plan had Sam [Heap] attacking first, followed by Charl and then myself. We all went off at two-minute intervals. Falcon followed Charl at a short distance. The mortar barrage started proceedings, and the imbalance of firepower indicated that we were superior and that allowed us to advance to contact in reasonable spirits. Needless to say, what happened over the next five hours was going to change many people’s perception about the glory of battle.
We advanced downhill and I remember thinking that it was not in our favour, as most people tend to shoot high when under fire. It has something to do with your anal sphincter pulling your head down and pushing your rifle barrel upwards. This suited the enemy’s situation, but not ours.
Virtually at the flick of a switch, the whole area around us was replaced by something that resembled a movie set and one would not be thought ridiculous were you to be seen looking around for John Wayne, or better, Private Ryan himself. The sound of ripping canvas magnified through Pink Floyd’s sound system did not even come close. The trees were exploding and it started snowing leaves. The moviemakers were doing well – and then suddenly one was back in reality. There is a lot of verbal abuse that goes with shooting people. Noise wins battles, you would have been told at Infantry School, but I am sure not too many guys remember those lessons. What transpires in most individuals can never be the same in all of us, but to control lines of advance and keep the morale up, what can one do but shout and shoot? Foxtrot was doing so well though, and our advance was steady. We had three objectives to take and once I was in the town itself I knew we had only one to go. This was close to the river and I sent a platoon to go and clear it out.
Ferreira’s headquarters and his reserve also became involved in the firefight, which explains why Heap could not get hold of him over the radio. Taylor remembers arriving at the base defence trenches:
The sound of the bullets had now changed to that deadly whip crack as they passed between us – and I knew that we were now close. Trompie’s troops, a few metres ahead, started firing while moving steadily forward, but I couldn’t see anything. Astonished, I realised that the trenches were but five metres ahead. They were an ingenious design, a metre wide, deep enough for a man to stand in with his head and shoulders sticking out, they zigzagged off to our left and right, not running straight for more than three metres. What made them almost invisible until you were on top of them was that they had no mound in front of them, but were flush with the ground. As we were soon to learn, they were difficult to clear unless you systematically worked down the trench line.
The companies ahead of us had advanced over them to get into the base, as we were about to do. I peered into the three-metre section in front of me and, seeing nothing there, backed up and took a running jump to clear the trench. We hadn’t moved 30 metres into the base area than we started taking fire from behind us – the enemy were still in the trenches! Everyone around me dived to the ground.
With the weight of the backpack on my back I carefully knelt and put out my hand to lower myself to the ground when I was suddenly pitched face forward into the sand. Thinking at the time that it was the weight of the backpack, I later saw that a bullet had passed through the backpack, missing my neck by a few centimetres. Being the only one carrying a backpack (the HF radio was in the backpack) that stood nearly as high as the back of my head, I must have stuck out like a sore thumb, making an obvious target. Trompie’s troops immediately engaged the enemy behind us. I rolled on my side and pulled my arms free of the backpack. I had had enough of carrying it and I shouted to my signaller to take over. He was clearly not happy at the prospect, but it was his turn, and rank certainly had its privileges.
At one point, Major Lynch made the decision to take the Puma and gunship closer to the battlefront in case they were needed for casualty evacuation, and landed at the echelon and medical post established at Oelschig’s position. He also arrived with helicopters, so that he could better coordinate air support, if needed. The assault force was progressing slowly and taking heavy casualties, which had not been anticipated.
When Heap had to regroup, a gap opened in the line and soon some enemy appeared behind the assault force and between the echelon vehicles. The echelon protection element had to take part in the fight, shooting at FAPLA soldiers as they ran from the bush across the access road between the assault force and the echelon. Louw, in the meantime, had sent some of the Kwêvoël trucks to the front to pick up the wounded and transport them to the first-aid post. The assault force was running out of ammunition, especially 60-millimetre mortar rounds and 7.62-millimetre R1 ammunition. Commandant Ferreira called me and my ammunition vehicle to the front.
The enemy were fighting from their trenches, supported by their own 82-millimetre mortars, B10 recoilless guns and 122-millimetre Grad-P (mono-Katyusha) rocket launchers. The FAPLA commander and his troops were probably under the impression that a FALA force was attacking them. They remained in position, returned disciplined fire, retained command and control, and stuck to their defensive fire plan. After about two hours, however, their fire started to slacken and their resistance showed less resolve. They stayed in the trenches and did not launch a frontal counter-attack, but instead used small groups to attack. Unbeknown to Ferreira, FAPLA forces were systematically withdrawing from the base and consolidating north of the runway at what was thought to be the vehicle park.
Alpha Company took the main hammering and things did not go well, as they had to leave behind many wounded. Hodgson remembers how Ross and Foxtrot Company rushed to their assistance:
As we ducked under cover in the buildings and faced west and east, Horst and Attie joined us and said that they had wounded that were left behind, as per orders, and that the enemy would take them out. Horst, Peet and Grobbies gave us covering fire, and Attie, [Corporal C.] Augusto and myself rushed out to where they were hysterically screaming, more with fear than pain. The only reason that the three of us went to assist is that we were the biggest and would be able to carry a wounded person better than the others. I remember Attie slinging a wounded troop over his shoulder, taunting the motherfuckers to try to get us. We worked on a buddy-buddy system, Augusto covered and we carried.
Two trips were made and the nearest wounded were brought under cover. Horst came scrambling up as we returned and said that we had a huge problem: the enemy had regrouped and were forming up between the river and where we were situated. This meant that the only way out was south. I think that more prayers were said in that moment than at any other during Tiro-Tiro.
Following this, a silence descended and then we heard the most beautiful sound. Unbelievably, Jim Ross was organising his company in an extended line moving from the river over the flats towards us. A cheer went up from all of us. One minute, we were all heading for hell, and the next, a reprieve. Jim took over and we started sweeping the base. All were in a euphoric state of shock. We had seen our comrades blasted out of existence and, but for the grace of God, we could have been too.
To his left, Ross had noted that Alpha Company troops were exhausted from the battle and decided to go and help before the enemy could over-run them. He explains:
Observing troops from Alpha over on our left flank was worrying, as they looked severely depleted in numbers. The radios did not have a clear signal due to the undulation of the geography. Once I had been told that half of Alpha was still pinned down back up the hill, I decided to take Foxtrot back up our line of advance and go see if we could help. Advancing from the side on one’s own troops can prove hazardous in any circumstance, but to do so just after they had had a monumental shootout would be scary. Nevertheless, it had to be done, and I eventually joined up with Falcon, and the rest of Alpha carried on down into the town.
From his observation post, Ratte reported a group of enemy moving on foot to the north along the road. Some of them were carrying 122-millimetre mono-Katyusha rocket launchers. This group would most probably walk north and mount the rocket launchers to bombard the assault force – the launchers were useless firing from their original positions in the base because of the short distance between them and the assault force.
From his position, Stolz could see Ferreira’s headquarters group advancing along the road (the border between Alpha and Foxtrot companies). It was becoming increasingly difficult for Ferreira to control the assault, as the headquarters protection element regularly had to physically take part in the assault because of the numbers of enemy they encountered. Taylor and Erasmus were for a moment on their own firing at the enemy, but they made it back to the protection of Theron’s platoon before Erasmus was killed in a firefight not far from Ferreira. Taylor remembers:
Trompie’s headquarters defence platoon was strung out expectantly in a skirmish line running down the slope, facing towards the river. No sooner had we arrived than all hell broke out. Unencumbered by the dreaded backpack, I dived onto the sand. I fired half a magazine between the two-man MAG machine-gun crew a few metres to my left and Erasmus in a clump of grass on my right, before crawling forward into the firing line.
It was very comforting to hear the roar of the MAG to my left and to know that we were back with the platoon. Running the risk of losing the initiative if we stayed stationary, I shouted through the noise to advance. The MAG gunners began gathering their glistening ammunition belts, draping them over their shoulders and preparing to hoist up the machine gun. Changing to my second-to-last magazine as I got up, I realised there was no response from Erasmus. ‘Captain, Captain, we have to advance, we have to advance’ … no response again. My signaller shouted behind me, and I realised he was telling me that there appeared to be something wrong with Erasmus.
I went back from the firing line and crawled round alongside him in the grass. To my horror, I saw he had a hideous throat wound and blood was gushing out of his mouth as he struggled to breathe. Something snapped in me and, jumping up, I ran down the skirmish line screaming for the medic. Thirty metres down the slope I saw Sergeant Major Ueckermann on all fours crawling up towards me – an unusual posture for this big, burly RSM with his red handlebar moustache and bellowing voice that struck the fear of God into all around him! He reached up and pulled me down by my webbing as I was about to run past him, screaming for the medic.
‘Looty, wat’s fout?’ [Lieutenant, what’s wrong?]
Not making much sense at first, I took a deep breath and told him about Captain Erasmus and that he needed a medic, in fact, he needed a doctor, fast.
‘The medics are all busy, Looty, and so are all the doctors … there’s nothing we can do right now.’
‘Fuck!’ Numb, I began crawling back up to Erasmus. I looked over my shoulder and to my amazement I saw Commandant Ferreira strolling up the firing line with his AK-47 slung casually by its strap off his shoulder. With two VHF radios strapped to his web belt, he was listening intently, an earpiece pressed to each ear. He was completely oblivious to the firefight raging around him, and while the rest of us were slithering around like lizards, he looked every bit as if he was out on a Sunday-afternoon stroll.
The advance had faltered on my side of the line when I had gone apeshit looking for a medic. I lay helplessly next to Erasmus in the clump of grass as the fight continued. His left arm was thrust forward, twisted crookedly above the elbow. I watched helplessly as he slowly died, gulping for air as blood gushed from his mouth each time he tried to breathe. The firefight slowly died down and I got up when I saw Commandant Ferreira standing behind me, still talking intently on his radio command network. Hoisting the backpack up against a tree, I plugged a whip antenna into the big HF radio and switched it on in case Commandant Ferreira needed it. When I tried testing comms I got a strange ‘bbbrrr’ in the earpiece. Lifting the HF radio up, I saw a bullet hole through it. Inspecting the rucksack, I could see the neat entry hole at the back and the jagged exit. I realised with a chill that had I not leant forward to lie flat when the enemy opened fire from the trenches behind us, the bullet would have hit me in the top of my back.
Anders, the Omauni base operations clerk and now Taylor’s signaller, was given the radio backpack to carry. He describes the gruesome reality of war in which there is no mercy:
I took the backpack from Justin as we came under fire for the first time. I continued walking. Erasmus was on our right a few metres away. We came to a clearing and there was heavy machine-gun fire to my front, about two o’clock to my right. I heard it, but could not see where exactly it was coming from. We moved forwards quite quickly. Erasmus opened fire and moved to a small bush. This seemed to attract fire in our direction. I dived down flat onto the ground. I could not move because the pack was very heavy. Erasmus stopped firing. There was heavy firing from both directions. Commandant Ferreira appeared and shouted that we must give the command to cease fire. Everything went quiet. I think we were firing on one another.
After Erasmus was killed, Ferreira, Justin, Lappies [Lance Corporal Laubsher] and I were standing together. Lappies was very upset, as we had just heard that Muller had been killed or captured. There was a captured, wounded Angolan soldier sitting against a tree. He was young and I remember the friendly look on his face. He looked at me. I thought that because he was captured he would have received medical treatment. Lappies wanted to shoot him. Ferreira said to Lappies that he must not get his hands dirty and turned around to another soldier who was standing over him and said, ‘Floor-board him.’ I turned away and heard the shots and did not look back. I was now numb to all the noise and what was happening, and just walked on.
Moments later, Ferreira’s headquarters came under mortar bombardment. He contacted Lynch, requesting the Puma to evacuate the casualties and the Cessna to assist with radio communication.
Oelschig and his CSI team were waiting for instructions to move forward when Ferreira contacted him by radio:
Deon Ferreira spoke to me on the radio. He reported that his forces had encountered very stiff resistance and that they had sustained a number of casualties. He reported that one of his company commanders had been killed in action. About 15 minutes later, Deon again spoke to me by radio. He reported that his forces were progressing slowly, but that they had suffered very heavy casualties, especially in his own headquarters. He reported that the headquarters had been hit in an apparent mortar counter-bombardment, in which his intelligence officer had been killed. He reported that he had a number of serious casualties that required immediate evacuation. He had submitted his request for the casevac to Des Lynch, but asked that I reinforce this request. I spoke to Des Lynch and together we decided that there was nothing for it but to send in the helicopter to evacuate the most seriously wounded. We informed Deon Ferreira of our decision and told him to make smoke on the most suitable landing zone.
I arrived with the ammunition vehicle at Commandant Ferreira’s headquarters, which by now had moved slowly forward behind the Alpha Company advance line and was situated near a Soviet amphibious pontoon standing behind the first trenches. At 14:50, before I could start distributing ammunition, the mortar bombardment on the headquarters began. I remember that Falcon had instructed people from the company to load the seriously wounded onto the ammunition vehicle and another vehicle that Louw had sent to the front to take them to Bouwer’s medical post for treatment.
We loaded while the mortar rounds fell, and drew some rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) and small-arms fire too. Falcon shouted to get the ammunition vehicle out of danger. I managed to get it away from the bombardment and later returned to Falcon’s position. Falcon then decided to bring the Puma forward to evacuate the casualties and instructed me to go with the vehicle to prepare a landing zone. The RSM took charge of the vehicle and instructed me to sit in the back with the dead and wounded. The doctor and some medics were still desperately working on the 15-odd wounded while we drove to the back. Their moaning was horrible. We could do nothing for them. The ammunition boxes were covered with blood dripping from the wounded and dead.
By now Gregory had joined us in a Buffel. I found an open area about a kilometre or so away from the base and asked some of the company people who were still in the back of the vehicle to secure the area. While waiting for the helicopter, the doctor was doing everything he could to attend to the wounded. Like so many others, the driver of the ammunition Kwêvoël, Private Du Plessis, was scared of being killed. He remembers picking up the wounded:
I remember how, throughout the operation, I constantly prayed, ‘Lord, I do not want to die now. I only have six weeks left of my two-year national service.’ Later, RSM Ueckermann told us to pick up the wounded. I remember we stopped at the body of Lieutenant Patrick, but do not remember the reason why we did not pick him up. The back of the vehicle was packed with wounded.
I was told to return by the same route we had entered the town in order to find a landing zone. Sergeant Ron [Gregory] accompanied us with a Buffel on which a Browning was mounted. On the way, I saw troops ahead who took cover on the side of the road. Sergeant Ron stopped alongside my vehicle and asked what was the matter. I said to him, ‘I do not know if it is our troops or enemy.’ He said to his driver, ‘Let’s go.’ Luckily it was some of our troops, whose leader group had been shot, on their way back to Savate.
We found a landing zone, and the wounded, including a wounded black woman and her child, were loaded in the chopper. I will never forget the fear in the eyes of that mother and child, not knowing what was going to happen.
The FAPLA mortar bombardment had a devastating effect on the Alpha Company men, as Hodgson explains:
This was too much for Alpha Company. There was a mass rout. The same troops that had faced overwhelming odds had seen their comrades killed, maimed and wounded, and wanted no more. Low on ammunition, they ran, heading west to get as far away as they could from the hell they had survived. Our leader group followed them. They finally stopped when they reached a place where Sam [Heap] and the vehicles were waiting. When I got there, Sam gave us instructions to head back immediately. Shit, this was the last thing our minds wanted to process. Discipline kicked in, orders were orders. The only way we could achieve this was by walking ahead of them. Funny thing was that no one hesitated. They just followed. Most of them had little or no ammo. It was as if we had faced something so bad that nothing could be worse. As long as we were together, we would be fine.
Just before the Alpha men took flight, Ross jumped in a Buffel heading out of Savate. Grobler thought Alpha Company left Savate because of Ross’s departure. However, Ross had been called to Ferreira’s position and not to the echelon area, where Heap and his men were. Grobler explains:
Alpha had no leader and we looked to Jim Ross for direction (he was close to us). He got into a Buffel, showed the driver the direction out of Savate towards the echelon and drove off. As far as I know, he said nothing to anybody why he drove away. Needless to say, when the troops saw this they followed in a long line. Attie and I and some of the Alpha troops tried to keep them back. They probably thought Jim knew something we did not and followed him. Well, Attie and I followed too, as we did not feel like staying all by ourselves. On the way to the echelon the troops started to drop the loot – it became too heavy to carry, as the echelon was a long way.
It actually looked very funny. Everywhere were chairs, sewing machines, food, etc., lying where they dropped it. When we arrived at the echelon everybody was there except Falcon. I thought he was further back. We sat next to a Kwêvoël. At one side a couple of ‘when-we’s’ were sitting as well. [Corporal] Trevor Edwards and another one whose name I cannot remember were crying. Falcon contacted us and said we must return to the base. He was still in the base at Savate (this says much about his guts). That was when the two, Edwards and another one, shouted, ‘He has no respect for human lives.’ We swore at them and chased them back to Savate. They got paid to be soldiers!
Falcon wanted a volunteer to go back to the big echelon to lead in the vehicles and mortar guys. It had to be one person who could move carefully, as the area was still full of FAPLA. Attie Roestof immediately volunteered and off he went. That must have taken lots of guts (the blokes in the Recce Wing were more used to such things; we in the platoons always had lots of firepower around us). When he returned we noted that he was shot through his hat.
Freeman also recalls Roestof’s bravery. Ferreira needed the Echo Company men and Louw’s echelon to move forward, but because radio communication had broken down, his only option was to send somebody on foot to fetch the reserves. Roestof, realising the seriousness of the situation, volunteered. Freeman remembers:
Attie Roestof was dumb enough to volunteer. He left us his 30-round magazines and, taking just a 75-round cylindrical magazine taken from a destroyed RPK [a type of AK-47] and a single water bottle, he set off down the road in the direction where Echo was supposed to be. Attie hadn’t got very far, maybe 80 metres, when he drew heavy machine-gun fire from the same group of buildings in which we were clustered. He went to ground and crawled off the road with bullets flying all around him. Once the threat was cleared, he got up from the scrub in which he’d been hiding and took off at a run. ‘I ran for what felt like several kilometres,’ he recalled to me recently, ‘much further than I should have done. What I hadn’t been told was that there was a fork in the road. I took the left fork when I should have gone right.’
So Attie ran some more. ‘At one stage I found a little dog running alongside me. It suddenly veered off the road and into the bush. Not knowing why, but trusting his instincts, I followed and lay down in the grass.’ A cloud of dust was coming down the road. It was a small herd of cattle that shielded three FAPLA soldiers. ‘I was about to open fire on them, but lowered my rifle at the last moment. I’m glad I did – there were another seven or so heavily armed soldiers following behind them. They were deployed on either side of the road, with one group coming directly towards me.’ Fortunately, said Attie, the lone Alouette gunship supporting the operation arrived on the scene. Attie got up and started running again. Eventually, realising he was not going to find the Echo reserve, he turned round and started running back to the still-raging battle. It must have taken a hell of a lot of guts to return to the cauldron, but I think it would be a hell of a lot worse to be walking around on your own in FAPLA territory with no map or compass, one magazine and a single water bottle.
Following standard operating procedures, the Alouette gunship pilot, Captain Johan Mertz, and his flight engineer, Flight Sergeant Leon ‘Boertjie’ Bekker, first had to secure the landing zone before Meyer’s Puma could land, guided from the open door by his own flight engineer, Flight Sergeant Siegfried Hoebel. Mertz recalls:
We were not surprised that after the attack commenced Major Lynch was requested to airlift wounded soldiers from the contact area. As he realised the seriousness of the situation, he tasked the Puma to do the casevac and me to provide top cover during the evacuation. We did not know what to expect, as we were not supposed to get involved in this manner, but based on our experience we were able enough to handle the situation to the best of our abilities. From what I can recall, the landing zone was chosen west of the enemy base and duly marked with smoke.
The helicopters had been waiting at the echelon area where Bouwer had established his casualty evacuation point. The doctor decided to accompany the Puma for the casualty pickup, so he could hand over medical supplies to Van Zyl and help with the wounded. Unfortunately, the Puma overshot the landing zone and had to make a wide turn over Savate. Bouwer explains:
We heard that there were many casualties and were told to go in and assist because apparently there was some problem at the medical aid station as well. We then took off in the Puma. I was sitting inside with not much view to the front and going towards the field aid post, when suddenly there were severe evasive manoeuvres by the helicopter. We turned around and then we landed. I inquired as to what was going on and heard that we were being shot at by 14.5-millimetre anti-aircraft fire and that the pilot then elected to land in order for the ground troops to silence the anti-aircraft gun.
In the meantime, Nico Groenewaldt and his co-driver, Private Andre Barnard, arrived at the landing zone. Groenewaldt recalls:
As I stopped, the doctor and some medics were busy helping a wounded guy. It was a tall English-speaking guy [Second Lieutenant John Roberts] and he was wounded high up on the inside of his leg. He was hoisted onto the flat bonnet of my truck. I was busy hooking his drip up to the truck’s windscreen wipers when there was a tremendous explosion. Everyone jumped. A Puma appeared and flew low over us. Suddenly, it banked sharp to the left and disappeared. Someone said the enemy had fired a missile at it. I did not see this, but we had to take the wounded guy to another spot for the chopper to casevac.
It was the 14.5-millimetre gun at the airfield that was still active. FAPLA had not fired at the gunship initially, but when the Puma overshot the landing zone, it turned near the gun’s position and the crew started to fire, though not accurately because of the distance. Meyer, keeping his instructions in mind, could not risk the Puma being hit. Because of the same restrictions, the gunship could not engage the anti-aircraft weapon. Ferreira called on the mortars to silence the 14.5-millimetre gun. Anderson recalls:
C.B. distinguished himself as an excellent mortarman during this bombardment. He was a civil engineer and thus had a head for calculations. Willem Ratte gave a correction and within seconds the calculations were done and relayed to the group. The enemy 14.5 was chased around by C.B. and Willem with mortar fire until we eventually silenced it. If it was not for these two, we would have bled much more. The people from Echo can vouch for that: Dave Thompson, Russell Organ and Billy Faul.
Second Lieutenant William ‘Willie’ Botha from the Recce Wing had the task of controlling the ground-to-air radio communication for the recce group. He remembers how Ratte controlled the mortar fire:
Whiskey Romeo [W.R., or Willem Ratte] would pick up the dust and smoke from the recoilless and anti-air weapons being used in the counter-fire role, and the fire control instructions would go something like this: ‘100 up and 150 left from last shot, one round smoke’; then a pause, then ‘eight rounds, fire for effect’; pause as the rounds went in, ‘50 down and 200 right from your last shot, one round smoke’; pause for the smoke to show, then ‘six rounds, fire for effect’, and so on.
With the 14.5-millimetre gun silenced, the Puma landed at the evacuation point. Bouwer took medical supplies to Van Zyl and because of the situation decided to accompany the Puma, which would just offload the casualties at Omauni base and then return to the battlefield. I was still inside the Puma assisting Bouwer when it suddenly took off, not allowing me to jump out. Bouwer explains:
At the time they told me that I would probably stay with the field aid station and then let the medic take the casevacs back, but on landing, Richard van Zyl came to me quite upset and shocked. While anticipating about 10 casualties, we now had many deaths and more than 20 casualties. He had used some of his drip needles on soldiers who had died while lying waiting for us to get there, but had run out of drips and drip fluid a long time before we arrived. That meant that most of the soldiers who were lying there injured had not had any drips in them, nor had they been given any antibiotics or painkillers. They were just lying there waiting for us for about four to five hours. In medicine we have a rule, the ‘golden hour’, which is also known by the troops in the field. You have to do something to get wounded troops treated as soon as possible within an hour, as their survival rate would then drop dramatically.
These guys had a serious risk of dying either with us or in the helicopter going back to Omauni. I quickly gave him a few things and we started loading all the casevacs into the Puma. I recall about 13 wounded, all lying and sitting squashed together with Piet Nortje, the flight engineer and myself in the back. I told the medic to wait with Richie. I just grabbed as many drips and needles as I could and threw them into a bag. I told them that I would rather go back with them, as they had not had any drips to counter their blood loss, and no painkillers or antibiotics, and this is way beyond the scope of a medic. I also took injection syringes, needles, antibiotics and some pain medication, and left Richard with packs that I had packed and I then rushed back. Putting up drips in an overcrowded chopper with a limited number of needles was also going to be challenging on shocked troops because of their collapsed veins and shocked state.
Those people who know me will know that I am famous for being airsick and this was of great concern to me getting into the helicopter, realising that most of us had not had any water for a few days and with the smell of blood in the helicopter. The minute I got in I started working on putting drips into the troops and giving them shots of antibiotics and some pain medication. I was very surprised to see how quiet and stoical these troops were, just lying there staring at me, even helping me. Piet Nortje held all the drips and stuff ready for me and as I required them he handed them to me, basically being my nurse while I did the work on all the troops. I recall vividly the face of the same Rhodesian, who had got the hole in his forehead during our move into Savate, tapping me to ensure that I did not bump him, as he was in quite a lot of pain. He had a large entry wound in the lower abdomen area. He died in the helicopter. This was exactly what I was worried about, with them having been left alone for so long on account of our inability to get to them in time.
Later, after the battle, Bouwer had the opportunity to find out from Van Zyl a little more about what had happened at the first-aid station:
While travelling back I spoke to Richard van Zyl and asked him to tell me what had happened on his side. Richie told me that while they were trying to look after all the wounded people, the front line of this battle sort of deteriorated and there was a group of FAPLA that came through on the flanks and then eventually behind, and attacked the first-aid station as well. There was a chappie, John Roberts, who shared a tent next to my tent at Omauni. He was shot through the femur and I remember I put a drip in him, in the helicopter, as well.
When the first-aid station was attacked, he grabbed the AK-47 off Richie van Zyl, threw him on the ground, and then lay down on top of him and started shooting back at the guys attacking the first-aid station. The wounded that were able also started shooting back, and thus they deterred the flanking manoeuvre and FAPLA then made off into the bush. This undoubtedly saved everybody who was there. I thought that he did quite a brave thing. Despite having a fractured femur, he covered the doctor with his body while he fought back.
When the helicopters flew onto the battlefield, the FAPLA commander, who was still in the trenches on the eastern side of the base, must have realised that they were under attack by South Africans. It was reported to Ferreira that Muller and some other men were missing. At 16:20 Ratte reported nine FAPLA vehicles accompanied by many troops on foot leaving the base going north. At Ferreira’s request, Chisholm and Viljoen took off from Omauni to be air observers. Ferreira also called the four Buffels under Gregory’s control, each mounted with a 7.62-millimetre Browning machine gun, to his command post. There was no chance that Ferreira would allow the enemy to escape, in all likelihood taking the missing 32 Battalion soldiers with them.
It was now almost seven hours since the attack had started and the recce teams encountered a huge group of fleeing FAPLA. John Botha, from behind his anthill, saw the enemy approaching:
I was leaning against the anthill in the shade of the small tree when I saw 12 or more trucks surrounded by many troops making their way out of Savate base. Some of the trucks were still invisible in the bush perimeter surrounding Savate base, as we discovered later. At first I was excited that the fight was over and it was 32’s vehicles approaching us. Then, with a shock, I realised that the trucks had tarpaulin covers on the back and thus could not be our trucks. The trucks were surrounded by not less than an infantry company moving in a box formation around the vehicles. They had sent a forward patrol out in front that had made contact with one of the recce team stopper groups, that of Sergeant FitzGerald, which was closest to the river. Fitzy’s team made contact with a platoon-strength group of FAPLA soldiers who were reconnoitring an escape route along the banks of the river.
De Abreu recalls:
FAPLA escaped from Savate to Caiundo on the secondary road between the main road and the river. I was still asleep until a mortar bomb fell in front of us. I woke up and asked my troop what was happening. He looked at me and said, ‘Isto é guerra’ [This is war]. I realised that he had also been sleeping and then my A72 radio was calling me in Portuguese, ‘Kota Ta, Kota Ta, por favor vem nos ajudar nos aqui estamos mal o Alberto apanhou no estomago, os pulas …’ [Kota Ta, Kota Ta, please come help us, it is chaos here, Alberto took a hit in the stomach, our pulas …] [The Portuguese-speaking men’s nickname for a white person was ‘pula’. Kota Ta was De Abreu’s nickname.]
I took the handset and asked who was talking. Jojo Viera answered and gave me a quick sit-rep. I explained the situation to Lieutenant Swannie and we moved toward another stick to regroup in order to go and help Jojo. We picked up the team closest to us. Lieutenant Swannie briefed the white men and I briefed the black men and we moved to the other team. When we reached the next team the guys were still lying down facing Savate, but before we could put our force into formation I saw enemy behind the team lying down, approximately 20 metres away. They saw us, but luckily our camouflage uniforms confused them. I gave the enemy signal and lay down with my RPD. It was impossible for us to open fire because our other team was between the enemy and us. Only God knows how I managed to arm my M72 and shoot at the FAPLA man while shouting ‘Inimigo a retaguarda!’ [Enemy at the back!]
I remember old man Kabinda Cunene was the last man on this team facing Savate; he quickly turned around and opened fire and we moved closer. We shouted to FAPLA, ‘Camarada, nao mata nos mesma! [Comrades, do not kill us, we are the same!] We are the reinforcement to help you!’ It gave us enough time to start our battle drill. ‘Buddy, buddy, avançar and kill the idiots!’ My RPD was working 100 per cent but I missed my 60-millimetre mortar pipe. Riflemen Belchior, Mario Hongolo, Horacio Cruz (with his PKM) and others with RPDs opened fire. Only the stick leaders had AK-47s. We felt so sorry for them [the enemy] in the chana and we started calling them to surrender, even counting from one to ten in Portuguese, telling them to stop running or they would get a bullet.
Lipman recalls the contact with the FAPLA advance patrol:
We were split into three-man teams, each with a machine gunner, an M79 40-millimetre grenade launcher, our own rifles and loads of ammunition, white phosphorus hand grenades and Claymore mines. Fitzy and myself had the river as our boundary and the other teams extended from our right side away from us. The opening salvo of the attack on the base was something to be heard – everything the battalion had was fired and launched on the base.
During our attack, our machine gunner, Rifleman R. Alberto, was shot in the chest and we had no firepower from his machine gun. Fitzy and myself were under a tree on the edge of the river bend in a natural depression, firing all we could with our rifles and M79. We were covered in leaves and bark from bullets hitting the tree above us. Fitzy leopard-crawled to summon help and in the process discarded his mochila. We tried to help our machine gunner and had to summon a chopper to casevac him, as we were only allowed air support for a casevac. However, our machine gunner, Space Monkey, nicknamed by Gavin ‘Doiby’ Monn (I will not elaborate as to why he was called Doiby), died before the chopper could get to us.
A convoy headed north through our stopper-group line right into us. It was precarious as we opened up on the convoy with some resistance while the enemy troops were trying to disembark and run for any cover they could find. After the contact we were talking and sharing our experiences, when Fitzy could not find his mochila. We later discovered small pieces of his kit and sleeping bag in a treetop, as his mochila had caught alight in the bushfire that had started during the firefight.
Garret instructed the other teams not to engage in the contact at the river but to start with a flank attack on the enemy, with the vehicles breaking out on the eastern side. This would give FitzGerald’s team a chance to make a clear breakaway. Botha recalls:
We all started running over the open grassland in an easterly direction and were initially not seen by the FAPLA troops making their escape. As we started running along, we first waited for the team on our western side to arrive before falling into the line. If I recall correctly, we were the second or third team and were soon joined by the others running in the direction of the FAPLA soldiers. As we passed the other teams they joined in the running.
After running for several hundred metres, I remember clearly Lieutenant Swannie picking up his AK and firing on automatic in the direction of FAPLA. Then all hell broke loose and we all hit the deck. The return fire from FAPLA was so intense that we could not move, and grass seeds fell all around us. The ground was a flat plain, so it was very hard. We were physically pinned down and could not move. Zack Garret was lying a little way behind us and took command of the situation, relaying to Commandant Ferreira that the majority of the recce group was pinned down. He then summoned the only support he could legally muster with the Alou pilot, who had volunteered to come and help. It is important to take into account that the pilot was breaking all rules, regulations and standard operating procedures, and that due to his actions he would put himself, his crew and aircraft in harm’s way.
FitzGerald and Lipman broke away from the contact and joined the attack. FitzGerald remembers:
The first day, when Mike and I were running up and down the corridors packed with FAPLA soldiers and ammunition, there might have been a group of five of us, but Mike and I were leading the charge. We literally had our AKs on automatic and we just fired and struck vehicles as we ran, just spraying them. I remember the one vehicle kept on going around in circles. The driver was dead behind the wheel; obviously the wheel had jammed in a clockwise direction. I am not kidding you, it was going right, clockwise, and this yellow smoke was pouring out the back – a bullet had lodged in an RPG projectile and this yellow powder, I suppose the igniter for the RPG, was pluming up in the air. Eventually, we jumped onto the vehicle, chucked the driver’s body out, and disengaged the vehicle and brought it to a stop, and we looted huge tins of tuna that came out of Japan, 2.5-kilogram tins of tuna, tons of the stuff.
Opperman recalls:
We all grouped together and we took on all the FAPLA groups, as we were in the stopper groups and we realised then that they were not going to use the road and we went down that way. By then they were streaming by in their hundreds and as we went down that way we started shooting. Daisy [Sergeant Dirk Laubsher] stayed behind for some reason; I think we left a skeleton group behind in each location and he went and saw two guys running and he shot the one from far off, and he said, ‘I got one’ and we said ‘Ja, ja, ja!’ … Botes and I, we saw the two guys so we split off from the main group and went in to look for the one that he had shot. He was talking us into the location where the guy dropped, so we wanted to go and get him. There was another one that went into the grass, so Botes and I, we were about 40 metres apart, he was on the far side and I was on the near side, and the main group then swept up the riverbank, and suddenly this one guy popped his head out of the reeds and I shot at him, but my rifle was on automatic and the second shot actually landed right in front of Botes’ toes. I had nearly shot Botes and he was the moer in [angry] with me; he said, ‘Hey, you nearly shot me,’ and I apologised. Then I ran up to the guy; the first shot had actually got him and he was wounded and lying there. And so I ran and jumped on him so he could not shoot us, but in the meantime Swannie in the main group set fire to the veld there.
Sergeant Cornelias ‘Tabo’ Maree recalls:
What had happened there, we were sitting and three guys walked up to the two Viera twins, and I was on the side. At that point in time my bowels said it was time to get emptied, so I was actually having a crap when these three guys walked up, and I spoke to Viera, because I was still trying to pull my pants up and get my rifle. They thought I said ‘fall’ so they lay down and I was pulling my pants up and grabbing my rifle and shooting and whatever. They then got into the reeds and that’s when we threw the white phos [white phosphorus grenade] to try to get them out, and that caused the initial fire.
Once again, Ferreira approached Lynch to help stop the fleeing enemy. Mertz was subsequently told to do whatever was necessary to slow down the escaping FAPLA convoy, and allow the reserve Buffels to reach Ferreira and catch up with the retreating FAPLA. Mertz did not waste any time trying to delay the convoy. At 16:50, after he had shot out most of the trucks, breaking the FAPLA formation apart, his gunship was hit by enemy fire. He explains:
As there was only one gunship available, my briefing also entailed not putting the helicopter in undue risk and in the case of being forced to do an emergency landing to stick to the eastern side of the river, where Willem Ratte was. When we got to the river I noticed the size of the withdrawing FAPLA forces on their vehicles. I decided to climb higher than the normal 800 feet, thinking that small-arms fire would be less effective and hoping that they did not employ 12.7- or 14.5-millimetre anti-aircraft guns on the back of one of their vehicles. The problem was that our 20-millimetre cannon was not that effective from a greater height, but after the first exchanges of fire we noticed that the vehicles in front actually stopped and the soldiers disappeared into the reeds alongside the river.
As it was our aim to slow down the enemy retreat to the north, we withdrew to the north until we could not hear massive small-arms fire emanating from the convoy on the ground. As soon as we were out of range the FAPLA soldiers got back into their vehicles and proceeded north again. Once again, we engaged them until they dismounted and took cover in the reeds. I cannot recall for exactly how long this pattern continued, but at one stage, when we decided to engage the dismounted soldiers among the reeds, the Alouette was hit by various rounds. By this time I had established that the 32 Battalion soldiers had reached their vehicles and were on their way in pursuit of the FAPLA convoy. As my fuel was getting low and we were not certain of the extent of the damage suffered by enemy fire, I decided to return to Omauni, refuel, assess the damage and return in support of our ground forces if required.
Willie Botha communicated with Mertz on the radio:
The gunship passed overhead headed for the convoy, and moments later it sounded like someone was tearing a huge sheet of cloth apart in the sky as a couple of hundred AKs opened up on the chopper. ‘Tell me when I start picking up small-arms fire,’ came from the pilot. ‘You’re picking up a lot of small-arms fire,’ was my immediate response. He would orbit at a precise 300 feet (so his gunner would have a good shot) [it was 800 feet, according to Mertz] and allow the gunner to take out one or two engine blocks with a couple of well-placed rounds. He would then break out of the orbit to confound the ground fire, and re-enter at a different point, asking me all the time to confirm that he was attracting his fair share of attention. I became tired of answering in the affirmative.
At one stage this came over the radio: ‘Okay – she’s been hit, let me just go check if this girl still flies.’ Shit, my mouth went dry; if the chopper went down, that would mean no top cover for the badly outnumbered teams chasing down the cornered enemy, no casevac and who exactly would have to go fetch his ass out of the wreckage? Before long, however, he returned with his dry, just-another-day-at-the-office tone: ‘Tell me when I’m picking up small-arms fire.’ My answer was, once again, positive.
From monitoring the FAPLA-brigade radio network, it became evident that the brigade commander was busy with a full-scale withdrawal, leaving Savate in the hands of 32 Battalion. Viljoen, in the Cessna, also reported the column of troop-carrying vehicles engaged by the gunship leaving the base area. Viljoen was concerned about the whereabouts of Muller, and instructed Rolf Heiser and his few men to search for him.
In the meantime, the four Buffels reached Ferreira’s headquarters. Heap, Ferreira, Taylor, Ueckermann and Ross, with some Charlie Company troops, mounted the vehicles and gave chase, arriving at the convoy the moment the gunship broke away to return to Omauni. Heap explains:
Falcon ordered the Buffels to the front. Falcon, Jim Ross, myself and, I think, Sergeant Major Ueckermann were in command of a Buffel each. We travelled through Savate town and turned north following the fleeing FAPLA soldiers. The road and river run parallel with each other with a strip of about 500 metres between the river and the road. We could see how the FAPLA soldiers, on foot, were fleeing to the north, running through the grassland.
The recce group, which was deployed in ambush positions to the north, started to report successes as they shot out the enemy convoys that entered their ambush positions. Myself and another Buffel (I think it was Jim’s) turned towards the river and started a duck shoot. The fleeing FAPLA were shot from the Buffels while trying to escape or hide in the long grass. We later stopped at the dead enemy to pick up their ammunition, as we were quickly running out; the hunt continued!
Charl was the unit’s adjutant and one of the very few members in possession of an AKM. There were simply not enough AKMs in the stores at Buffalo. The entire leader group envies an AKM instead of a normal AK-47. I collected an AKM for myself from one of the dead FAPLA while collecting ammunition from his body. I used the AKM in the chase. We were called back to Savate after Charl’s body was discovered in a trench. It seemed that he was wounded in the arm and had jumped into a trench to put on a bomb bandage, when he was shot from the back through his head.
We were getting out of the Buffels when Sergeant Pedro from Charlie 7 platoon accidentally discharged a shot. The bullet ricocheted from the Buffel’s side and a piece of shrapnel hit me in the cheek, my only wound in my three years’ service with 32 Battalion.
From the Cessna, Viljoen directed the Buffels towards the fleeing enemy, who were running over the floodplain. In the meantime, more enemy vehicles had left Savate. Fierce fighting continued. At 18:03 Viljoen saw some enemy vehicles turning off the road heading towards the Cubango River, across which some of the fleeing enemy tried to escape but either drowned or were taken by crocodiles. From the Cessna Chisholm witnessed the FAPLA troops’ attempted escape:
During this period Deon Ferreira came on air to inform us that Charl Muller plus a number of other 32 personnel had been killed; this really made E.V. upset at the time. With the enemy travelling in a convoy of trucks northwards along the riverbank, E.V. called the chaps on the ground to jump into the Buffels and head the enemy off by going along the road that was coming to a bottleneck at the river a few kilometres up the road.
The enemy by now could see they were going to be in the shit at the bottleneck, so they jumped trucks and waded into the river to an island one-third of the way across. Our chaps began knocking them off while they were trying to get to the island. I cannot remember how many managed to make it to the other side of the island, which protected them from our chaps on the main bank. The enemy realised they were in shit street now and so they began to wade into the river, which was about 80 metres across to the open plain.
Most had by now dropped their AKs and were just managing to stay afloat in the reasonably deep water – you could see they had no idea how to swim. At this time, E.V. was pleading with me to shoot them from the side door of the Cessna, but I was under strict instructions not to allow this. By this time the enemy (about 30) were about halfway across when … one was taken by a huge crocodile (similar to the Jaws movie): he did not even have a chance to put up a fight. We were by now flying at 200 feet and you could see the enemy were not worried about us in the air or our guys on the ground – their main concern now was the crocodiles.
Anyway, about a minute later number six in line was attacked by another crocodile, which was not as big as the other one, and this enemy put up quite a good fight with the crocodile for about 50 metres down the river before he also disappeared. The rest of the enemy were really frantic now and were trying to hide behind one another while making a beeline for the open plain. E.V. decided we should let the rest go, as they had had enough excitement for the day, and so we flew back to the enemy camp to help coordinate the cleaning-up operations, which took another couple of hours. I flew 11 hours that day.
There were fears that Ferreira would lead his convoy towards the mines that the recce teams had planted on the road, so Viljoen directed him away from the road and over the floodplain. Taylor remembers getting involved in the shooting before returning to Savate:
Finally the call from Echo Victor (E.V., or Eddie Viljoen) came and we cut off the road into the bush, heading for the river. We came up against a seemingly impenetrable line of bushes as high as the Buffel. Echo Victor told us that what was left of the convoy was on the other side and to our right. We paused, not sure. My suggestion was to send someone on foot to check it out, lest we get taken out by an RPG as we burst through into who knew what on the other side. In addition, we couldn’t be sure the line of bushes didn’t conceal a bank, over which we could somersault, spilling out of the overturned Buffel in full view of the enemy.
Commandant Ferreira looked at me, then at the bushes, then back at me before deciding not to heed my advice and shouted to the driver to smash through the bushes. His gamble paid off – no bank and no RPGs. Sure enough, the lead vehicle was barely 80 metres off to our right. As we charged towards it, I stood up and turned to fire over the driver’s head, twisting my rifle so that the ejecting cartridge would spin up and not into Commandant Ferreira’s face. I heard my first round hit the windscreen with a distinct crack and the door flew open as the driver jumped out. I saw these white takkies, which looked very out of place below his camouflaged uniform, appear on the step of the cab, before he fell out onto the ground. I fired two or three more rounds into him and he lay crumpled in a heap. I looked across at Sergeant Major Ueckermann and saw that he had also pumped a few shots into him … he hadn’t stood a chance. Almost in slow motion, with its driver’s door hanging open, the truck continued forward, rolling down into the ravine and smashing into the bank.
We continued towards a batch of about five abandoned trucks parked one behind the other. The guys behind us were firing at something when I heard a loud bang. A bit dazed, and feeling something warm and wet, I looked down to see blood flowing from the back of my hand. ‘Commandant, I’ve been hit,’ I said to Commandant Ferreira sitting next to me. He was talking to Echo Victor over the radio and without a pause he said, ‘Justin’s hit, Justin’s hit’, and went right on with what he had been saying before. I felt no pain in my hand and so started checking the rest of my body, to find that I had been hit in my upper arm as well. It must have been the fragments of a bullet that had hit the inside of the Buffel, spraying me like a shotgun. We bandaged my hand as best we could to stop the bleeding.
We circled the abandoned vehicles and then headed back, as it was now getting late and we didn’t have long before the sun set. We passed the body of the driver and with my emotions welling up I said, ‘Commandant, I shot that fucking cunt for Tim.’ I had never used language like that in front of the commander and no sooner had I said it than I thought what a stupid thing it was to say. He didn’t reply, but looked off into the middle distance. It had been a long day and I suppose there was nothing more to be said.
The stopper groups and the mounted group could not stop all the fleeing columns, but made sure that FAPLA had left all their vehicles and many dead behind before the rest fled north. Botha was glad that he had made it through this extremely tough engagement. He explains that his end-of-service date was constantly in his mind:
One of the things I remember was that, coincidentally, many members were killed on their last operation, such as Sergeant Ben Gerrike. Ben joked when he went on his last operation, and was teasing that he was going to dig waist-deep trenches to ensure that he would survive. Sadly, Ben was killed on his last operation when a mortar round exploded between his legs during a contact. Naturally, I was also concerned about my last operation, as I had resigned. During the fire and movement, after running several hundred metres at full speed, my chest was starting to burn. As we approached the river, small pools of water could be found in the grass.
Once when I went down during the shooting I started to sip water from such a pool. As I was soaking wet from sweat, I thought it wise to cool my head. While on the ground in between fire and movements I put my weapon down and stuck my hands into the water. When I got up for my next fire and movement I slipped. With my one hand still on my head I was pouring water and with the other hand holding my rifle to stay in sequence with the fire-and-movement drill. When I fell some of the other members thought I had been shot in the head, looking at how I went to the ground. From the recce members and to Willem and Piet, monitoring the radio, the message went out that I was wounded.
In a makeshift emergency room in a tent in Omauni, Bouwer treated the wounded as best he could after they had been offloaded from the Puma. When the Cessna landed with Viljoen, he arranged for the evacuation of the critical cases to Rundu military sickbay. It was decided that the Puma, accompanied by Dr Breedt, would take the more serious casualties to Rundu, leaving no available means for Bouwer and me to return to Savate. Bouwer explains:
I managed to get everybody dripped, climbing over all the troops in that cramped space, without getting airsick. By the time we landed at Omauni I had one drip left to do on one of the troops, which I then did on the tarmac. We quickly did a triage between myself and Dr Breedt, who then immediately loaded the worst guys back onto the Puma to go to Rundu. I took the less seriously wounded ones and put them in a little tent that we had set up for them in our camp in anticipation of bringing back the wounded from the operation.
The Cessna crew that landed in the interim went to the mess while I started working on the wounded. During the work-up, I found that one of the soldiers also had a chest wound that had not been noticed and he ended up having a pneumothorax [collapsed lung] on the left-hand side. I put an underwater drain on him there in the little tent. The rest of them were just minor gunshots through muscles and legs, and they were then all removed the next morning to Rundu by vehicle.
I went to the pub to find something to eat, and Piet and I got quite a rev from Major Viljoen for coming back with the troops. But under the circumstances, I was responsible for the casevacs, who had not had any medical treatment since they had been shot earlier in the day. I managed to get something to eat, shower and get into clean clothes.