Chirundu Tales - Part11

CHIRUNDU TALES  [Part 11]

For security reasons we maintained a pack of dogs to alert us of any possible activity by the terrorists who were becoming more and more active as time went on.  The majority were  Doberman/Fox terrier crosses which were medium sized and proved to be extremely reliable watchdogs but they did not restrict their activities to humans.   There were a lot of baboons in the area no doubt attracted by the presence of sugar cane on the nearby estate plus the maize and fodder crops we grew for our cattle and sheep.  

Whenever troops of baboons exposed themselves near our headquarters, the dogs would set off in hot pursuit and would bravely engage them in ferocious battles which often resulted in rather severe injuries and sadly the odd death.  As a result, I became a dab hand at stitching cuts and gashes.  I was lucky to have support from the vets who we worked with on our research so I was able to secure a wide range of veterinary drugs and equipment that would not normally be available to a layman such as myself.

In addition, we had to put the dogs on a drug regime to prevent trypanosomiasis, a system that worked well.  We also had two pedigree dogs that were not as aggressive as the crossbreeds, namely a Wire Haired Terrier called Nambi and a Golden Labrador Retriever called Romeo.  Both of these animals travelled with me in my Land Rover a lot of the time and in so doing generated some interesting situations.

One unforgettable incident was when I had Romeo with me in the front of the Land Rover at the junction of our access road and the main highway near the Nyakasanga bridge.  It was around midday but surprisingly we encountered a small herd of elephants crossing the road.  As usual in the dry season I had removed the jeep doors.  Romeo, in his wisdom, decided to have some fun so he jumped out of the vehicle and proceeded to chase the elephants, barking as he did so.  The herd consisted of about eight cows and calves and one of the mothers decided that Romeos’ presence was not appreciated.  She turned on him and let out a loud trumpet at which point he did an about turn and headed at speed back toward the vehicle.  I have to admit that at that point I was getting a little worried but having turned Romeo around, mother elephant seemed to be satisfied and gave up the chase.  I thought that this would close the event but I was very wrong.  As soon as she returned to the herd, Romeo, who was still out of the vehicle, repeated the attack but this time mother elephant got fed up and embarked on a very serious charge.  Romeo must have sensed that she was really angry and headed straight back toward the vehicle and jumped clear through the doorway opening almost landing on my lap and nearly busting some of my ribs in the process.  Luckily there was sufficient space for me to get by so I accelerated away, narrowly avoiding the oncoming beast.  I have to admit that I was badly shaken by the event.

When the hunting season ended, African game scouts were left to guard and keep clean the three hunting camps between us and  Mana Pools, namely “D” “E” & “F”.    On a couple of occasions when rangers were otherwise engaged, I was asked to drop off some meat for the scouts which was a simple enough request.  All I had to do was drive down the road and bag three impalas and drop one off at each camp.  On one of these trips, I had the terrier Nambi with me in my stripped down Land Rover and shot an impala out of a herd that were standing in the road about 50 yards ahead.  The impala went down but lay kicking where it fell.  Nambi jumped over the folded down windscreen and ran straight towards the fallen animal. I expected her to make a grab for it but she had other ideas.  This all happened within a few seconds and I instantly realised that the rest of the herd had not fully dispersed and several were standing in the open Mopani forest.  The dog, having ignored the wounded animal ran on and, it seemed, attempted to catch an impala of her own!  She lunged at the nearest one, which appeared to be a little mesmerised, but was rewarded with a rather vicious kick which launched her a couple of feet into the air.  Luckily she avoided the sharp hoof which could easily have seriously injured or even killed her. Not surprisingly, she was very subdued when she got back to the truck.

On another of these trips, I came across two police Patrol Officers who were based near “D” Camp and were patrolling the area between “D” and “E” Camps.  I was a little surprised to find a patrol without their usual African trackers but their absence was soon explained.  They had, in fact, shot an impala that was to be sent to the police mess in Chirundu.  I explained what I was doing which technically was illegal but as I was working with the permission of the game department it was considered acceptable.  At that point the officer called for the trackers to show themselves.  I agreed not to mention the incident to the game department and having dropped the patrol off at their bush camp, delivered the impala to the mess in Chirundu on their behalf.  Actually I think that the Game Department were aware that the policemen, on patrol, did do a limited amount of hunting but chose to look the other way.

Every quarter when we went on our regular visits to Salisbury, we used to take Nambi and Romeo with us and lodge them in a small kennels at Mount Hampden where they were examined by a vet.  We did this as insurance that I had not missed any diseases when I did blood examinations with the microscope I had on site.  One morning as we were about to leave for Salisbury, a boat arrived  at our mooring site.  It was an old man called Clive Meredith, a retired farmer from Gatooma who with his wife, spent most of the winter in a fishing camp about 2 miles downstream from us.

Clive reported that he had spotted our boat beached on a sandbank about a mile below us.  It was not visible from our house.  I had loaded our outboard to be serviced in town but luckily one of the  fishermen who often spent a weekend on the river had left his little boat, complete with its  outboard engine, moored next to ours. To say I was angry is an understatement so I took my light hunting rifle and set off to retrieve our boat.

Our boat had been beached behind a small bunch of reeds but the sandbank was very wide at this point so I could easily have seen anyone approaching from the Zambian  bank.  As luck would have it nobody did approach but had they have done so I would have definitely have fired a couple of warning shots.  Anyway I took our boat in tow and with the small engine on my friends boat slowly made my way home.  I then took the precaution of taking both boats up to the HQ.   We then set off for Salisbury.

The trip was as normal and having spent a couple of days enjoying the “highlights” we were happy  to head for home.   Our happiness did not last long because when we arrived at the kennels in Mount Hampden, we were greeted with the news that Romeo had died the day we had dropped him off. Apparently he was off colour in the evening and soon collapsed and died.  A post mortem was carried out from which the vet identified a particular poison known to have been used by terrorists.  Our only conclusion was that whoever had stolen our boat the previous night had left some poisoned bait and poor old Romeo got to it first.  It was a sad day for us as he had been a wonderful pet as well as a very good watchdog.

Military patrols were on the increase by this time and we were understandably happy to have them around as they usually set up camp within our station boundaries and close to the river.  Naturally swimming was always on their agenda, particularly in the summer months.

One patrol set up camp near our guest house which was on a shallow channel just off the main river so deep water was not far away. As each patrol returned to their base, they would invariably strip off and head for the water which apparently was against regulations but it was a rule nobody enforced as far as I could see. I was somewhat surprised however when the officer in charge of a unit arrived at our HQ and asked for our assistance as one of his “troopies” had disappeared whilst swimming.  The missing man was one of a group who were swimming in the deeper channel.  No-one seemed to know what had happened to him as there were no shouts for help and they also had no idea how much time had transpired before his absence was noticed. As they were swimming about a mile upstream from our HQ, I took our boat and accompanied by two soldiers, moved slowly upstream keeping as close to the South bank as I could.  We found nothing.  Our search continued until dark at which time the officer in charge reported the matter to his superior at Chirundu who in turn reported the incident to the police.

The next morning the search was resumed and was extended downstream of our HQ but again there was no sign of the missing man.  Eventually, after about three days, the search was abandoned and it was accepted that the man had died an accidental death, possibly the result of a crocodile attack.

It was some months later that the officer in charge of the group was in Lusaka on a private trip.  He was born in Zambia  but did not disclose the fact that he was in the Rhodesian forces for obvious reasons. As he was walking down the street one day he came across the missing man, as large as life!  Because of his circumstances, he was in no position to apprehend the man, in fact I believe he had to pretend he had not even seen him.  It was then assumed that the man had deserted and had hidden in reeds until dark and then swum across the river.

When I next met up with Peter Walls, I mentioned this incident and asked for his view on it.  He was pretty casual about it.  He said that the military “budgeted” for manpower losses of 5% even in peacetime so this loss was insignificant.

Actually the losses suffered by the military about that time were negligible but there were a few close calls.  One I recall involved a soldier called Bennett.   “Ugh” as he was known, was a heavy chap for his age and was large, mainly around the waist.  He had been in a unit that had camped near us several times so I got to know him quite well.

 The way it was told to me was that he had been on a night patrol with a few fellow soldiers upstream from the Chirundu bridge near a fishing camp called “Bolts”.  Where they were was very sandy with a lot of reeds and apparently they bumped into a hippo.  Hippos often left the river at night to graze on reeds and other grasses such as Panicum (Maximum and Ripens) that were plentiful on the sandbanks. They were moving in single file and UGH was near the front.  An alarm was raised and it seemed that he turned and ran back the way he had come. Being as large as he was, he tended to huff and puff a bit as he ran which scared one member of the patrol into believing he was the hippo bearing down on him.  In a panic the soldier fired in the dark at the oncoming grunt, unfortunately hitting poor UGH in the stomach!  The good news was that UGH survived!

Late one afternoon Basil Williamson and I were returning from a visit to another research station near Makuti and got stuck about three miles in on our access road.  As it was almost dark and as we had no radio contact with HQ, we had no option but to walk back to base.   At the crossing of our road and the old Menza Pan road there was a RLI ambush that we knew about as we had been supplying them with water but we were not aware of the presence of the SAS in the area.  Anyway we set off with Basil setting a good pace and it soon got dark. I must add that we were both carrying rifles. Luckily, as we were walking, we were talking and suddenly, out of the dark came a voice instructing us to halt.  Basil immediately Identified himself as did I and we urgently asked them not to shoot.  It must have been obvious that we were not terrorists and we engaged in a conversation with the ambushers who then identified themselves as SAS. They had no vehicle to assist us so we excused ourselves and continued our walk.  When we approached the RLI ambush location we took the precaution of shouting ahead and prevented any possible accidents.

The following morning when I took my Land Rover to retrieve Basils’, I measured the distance at  13.6 miles.  We had walked it in a little over 3 hours which went to show the pace Basil had set.  We were both “knackered” by the time we got home but our wives, who had been extremely worried, were very relieved to see us.  This was naturally understandable as it was after 9o’clock and they had absolutely no idea where we were.  

From then on, because we were not restricted in our movements in the valley, we insisted on being made aware whenever the SAS were in our area.