Читать книгу The SADF in the Border War - Leopold Scholtz - Страница 11
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Into Angola: Reindeer
By the beginning of 1978, the South African government was in deep trouble on a number of fronts. Only two years before, the black township of Soweto had exploded in an orgy of violence because of anger and resentment about the injustices of apartheid and the petty restrictions it imposed on black South Africans. In late 1977, the UN had imposed an arms embargo on the Republic. The cracks were even beginning to show in the united façade of the governing National Party, which would split within four years. The Vorster government’s reach-out programme to black African states had been shattered by the Savannah debacle. In these circumstances, it was logical that the influence of the hawks within government, with Minister of Defence PW Botha at the helm, would increase. This led to a more aggressive strategy, which resulted in a whole series of large and small cross-border operations into Angola and other neighbouring states to smoke out the insurgent movements sheltering there. Within a decade, South Africa would find itself teetering on the brink of an all-out war with Cuba and Angola.
After Operation Savannah, the government at first forbade SADF forces to cross the border into Angola. SAAF aircraft had to take care to stay out of Angolan airspace. An exception was made for 32 Battalion, whose black Angolan soldiers could infiltrate their home country clandestinely and could attack SWAPO in the “shallow” areas near the border without political ramifications. Under Colonel Jan Breytenbach, the unit repeatedly attacked across the border: “We had to get them off balance, take away the initiative and act as the spoiler in their attempts to overrun Ovamboland.” As 32 Battalion at this time operated mostly in southeastern Angola, SWAPO vacated the area and moved westwards to Cunene province, where the SADF did not have a big presence.[1] In addition, the Special Forces, the Reconnaissance regiments (generally known as the Recces), carried out small-scale clandestine operations against SWAPO north of the border.[2]
But these actions proved to be insufficient. As Brigadier General As Kleynhans explained: “The area was too big and the border was too long. The terrain made it difficult too, [it was] flat with no natural lookout points. We did not have the capacity to close the border, it always remained permeable.”[3] At the end of January 1978, Commandant Gert Nel, who took over from Breytenbach as commander of 32 Battalion, reported that SWAPO “had the initiative in this area [eastern Ovamboland] and also throughout enjoys the support and aid of the local population”.[4]
There was only one way to recapture the strategic initiative: escalation. In a report dated 27 February 1978, the first of a series of SADF analyses of the military situation in South West Africa, it was argued that SWAPO had been successful in building up its strength in Ovamboland and the Eastern Caprivi. It was expected that SWAPO would have a force of 5 000 by the end of 1978, although only 1 000 of these were operationally deployable in the short term. Between 250 and 300 insurgents were active in Ovamboland. It therefore became imperative to employ the SADF’s full force against SWAPO across the border, instead of relying only on the defensive “hearts and minds” strategy.[5] In fact, Military Intelligence started getting reports of an increasing SWAPO presence in Angola’s Cunene province, and it became clear that the area was being developed – in Jan Breytenbach’s words – “as an extensive guerrilla base area”.[6]
In a second document, undated but apparently written in March or April 1978, it was bluntly stated that the situation in SWA was entering “an unacceptable turn” due to SWAPO’s military activity. The movement was becoming “ever more audacious with well-planned operations”. SWAPO’s political influence was high, and for this to change meaningfully, its “military capability had to be given a knock-out blow”.[7]
In his MA thesis on the battle of Cassinga, Brigadier General McGill Alexander summarised a third, even more important, document of 1 April 1978:
SWAPO was clearly capable of acting in the “traditional terrorist manner”, but also where necessary to act more aggressively and in larger groups with the required firepower and mobility in a reasonably effective way. SWAPO, claimed the document, had established a considerable number of bases in southern Angola from which it conducted military operations across the border as well as doing limited training and delivering logistical support. SWAPO actions north of the border were displaying a tendency to make more use of conventional weapons.
In sharp contrast to this, it was stated in the document, the SADF had concentrated in the past few years on “counter-terrorist” operations and had to a degree fallen into the rut of carrying out specific, elementary actions because it was seldom possible, and was in any case not permitted, to employ the full military potential of the Army and the Air Force against targets. It was further stated that it was militarily unacceptable to allow SWAPO to be trained in safe areas north of the border in order to concentrate for attacks on South Africa in northern Namibia. More than 50% of SWAPO’s activities in Namibia, it was claimed, took place in the immediate border areas. The initiative, it was emphasised, therefore remained in the hands of the “terrorists” whilst the SADF was compelled to merely react.[8]
This alarming view was confirmed when the Chief of the SADF, General Magnus Malan, was briefed in Oshakati on 12 April on the worsening security situation in Ovamboland. Not only was SWAPO freely holding well-attended meetings at various places to politicise the locals, but also the youth were being particularly influenced. Intelligence was reporting “open SWAPO support in the rural areas”. Militarily, the movement was “acting more purposefully. Moves in big groups. Carries out attacks on the Security Forces. Prepares ambushes and lays mines. Invades territory to the Golden Highway.” Some of the attacks were carried out by groups 100 to 150 strong, Malan was told.[9] Several pro-South African headmen were assassinated, land mines exploded, and a bus with 73 passengers (mostly women and children) was hijacked and forced to enter Angola.[10] Something clearly had to be done.
The preparation for this “something” had started some months earlier, on 31 December, when Prime Minister John Vorster met the Minister of Defence, PW Botha, his Foreign Affairs colleague, Pik Botha, the Chief of the SADF, General Magnus Malan, the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Brand Fourie, and the Chief of the Army, Lieutenant General Constand Viljoen, at Vorster’s holiday home at Oubos, on the Garden Route. There, the intrinsically cautious Vorster was moved to concede the principle of a cross-border operation, provided that he personally approved it.[11]
The South African strategic appreciation was that SWAPO was intensifying its military onslaught in order to strengthen its position in any future negotiations. PW Botha in particular was afraid that this could contribute to a SWAPO victory at the ballot box. Operation Reindeer was meant to tarnish the guerrilla movement’s prestige in view of possible internationally supervised elections. Botha felt that SWAPO’s military power “had to be broken before elections are held”.[12]
By April, it was decided to attack two SWAPO bases in Angola: Cassinga, a mining town about 260 km north of the border, and Chetequera, just 22 km from the border. To SWAPO operatives, Cassinga was known as “Moscow” and Chetequera as “Vietnam”. As Cassinga was too far for a conventional mechanised force to reach, destroy and pull back from without an unacceptable confrontation with Angolan and perhaps even Cuban troops, the weapon of choice was a paratroop force. Chetequera, which was seen as a major supply base and a centre for control and planning for operations in western Ovamboland, would be attacked with a mobile conventional ground force. Several other smaller bases just north of the border would be attacked simultaneously.[13]
Unlike Savannah, which was an intervention in the Angolan civil war, Operation Reindeer, and those that followed it (until 1985, at any rate), was aimed primarily at SWAPO. If FAPLA or the Cubans placed themselves in the line of the South African fire, that would be, as it were, collateral damage.
Cassinga: the plan
The parachute assault on Cassinga was preceded by a series of clandestine cross-border operations by 32 Battalion, with the aim of harassing PLAN inside Angola. Patrols were sent out to locate and hit SWAPO concentrations in the “shallow” border areas before they could reach South West Africa.[14] In one of these, elements of 32 Battalion and Reconnaissance commandos paired up to attack Eheke, an operational SWAPO headquarters. It was a bitter fight, in which the SADF soldiers suffered heavy losses, but it resulted in SWAPO’s eviction. One consequence of this battle was that the SADF realised that the highly trained elite Recces should not be used as infantry; henceforth, they were used mainly for clandestine work such as sabotage and reconnaissance.[15] More importantly, PLAN decided to relocate its headquarters to Cassinga, which was judged safe.[16] This was where the SADF decided to hit SWAPO. The assault would be placed under the command of Colonel Jan Breytenbach, one of the ablest tactical officers in the army.[17]
From a military-historical point of view, the Battle of Cassinga was one of the most interesting engagements of the entire Border War.[18] It was the first, and last, use of the concept of “vertical envelopment”, that is, outflanking the enemy by going over his head, instead of around his flanks. The decision was to drop 370 paratroopers, mainly from 2 and 3 Parachute Battalions (both part-time Citizen Force units), as well as an independent platoon from the full-time conscript 1 Parachute Battalion. A company from 3 Para would form the reserve, to be employed only if necessary.
The paratroopers would be dropped by six Lockheed C-130 Hercules and Transall C-160 transport aircraft, with another three C-160s on standby with reserve troops and extra supplies, if needed. The SAAF had the airlift capacity for more troops, but the problem was how to get the men back after the battle. Cassinga had no airstrip, so there was no way to land and extract the troops by fixed-wing transport aircraft. It was a full 260 km inside Angola; therefore walking back was not an option. The plan, therefore, was to send in a force of helicopters to extract them. Breytenbach had originally wanted a force of 450 paratroopers, but the number of troops was restricted on the basis of the available helicopter airlift capacity (19 Super Frelons and Pumas).
The plan was to hit Cassinga hard with a sudden air bombardment by four Canberra and four Buccaneer bombers, immediately followed by a 30-mm cannon strafing attack by two Mirage IIICZ fighters. While the enemy was still reeling from the noise and confusion, the main ground attack force, two companies of paratroopers (Alpha and Bravo) would be dropped west of the target and advance eastwards through the objective. One company (Charlie) would be dropped to the east, the independent platoon to the north and one company (Delta) to the south to act as stopper groups when the PLAN fighters started fleeing. (“We did not really expect them to stand and fight,” Breytenbach comments.[19]) A mortar platoon with 60-mm mortars and steel helmets for base plates (there were 12 mortars in total) would be available to support the attack, while an antitank platoon with RPG-7 rockets and antitank mines would be dropped to the south to counter any attempt by the mixed Cuban/FAPLA force at Techamutete to intervene.
At the same time, a so-called helicopter administrative area (code-named Whisky 3) would be established 22 km east of Cassinga to allow the chopper force to land and refuel prior to extracting the paratroopers. After the fight, the choppers would transport half the force (plus a maximum of 16 prisoners) to Whisky 3, return to Cassinga and extract the rest of the soldiers. Then they would be transported back to Eenhana in Ovamboland in two flights.[20]
A few comments about this plan, which posed several risks: Reindeer was a complex, finely tuned operation that depended on various (in themselves reasonable) assumptions and, most importantly, on extremely efficient organisation. The air assets in particular had to be managed almost to the second. For instance, the transport aircraft had to arrive at the target only seconds after the Canberras and Buccaneers had dropped their bombs, which required the juggling of take-off times and time to target. Because the choppers had to be back in SWA before nightfall, the attack had to be finished by midday. An eyeball investigation of the helicopter administrative area’s suitability could be undertaken only at daybreak on 4 May. The bombers’ attack on Chetequera, which would take place after the assault on Cassinga, had to be factored into the air support plan as well.
In addition, there were two wild cards. The one was a mixed Cuban/FAPLA battle group, based at Techamutete, 15 km south of Cassinga, with a troop of tanks, a mechanised infantry company or two with BTR-152 armoured personnel carriers, plus some motorised infantry and anti-aircraft guns. Planners reckoned that it would take them four hours to reach Cassinga. The tanks, it is true, were Second World War-vintage T-34/85s, and the BTRs were almost equally ancient, but they would still be more than a match for a lightly armed parachute force lacking heavy weapons. The other wild card was the presence of Cuban MiG-21 fighters at the airbases of Lubango and Menongue, both within range.
Essentially, there were many points at which things could go very wrong. Moreover, because each phase was so dependent on the others, any hitch could create a chain reaction and end in a humiliating defeat for the entire mission. Not only would this be catastrophic on a tactical and operational level, but it would also be a major setback to the entire South African war effort.
On the other hand, calculated risk-taking is intrinsically part of war. No operation is ever without risk. The trick is to foresee where things can go wrong, to be flexible and think on your feet, to react quickly enough to unexpected developments, and to build in – in terms of planning, training and equipment – a kind of cushion to absorb unexpected problems when (not if!) they occur. The SADF’s “cushion” against the Cuban threat was an antitank platoon and one of the Buccaneer bombers, while a DC-4, fitted with sophisticated ELINT (electronic intelligence) equipment, would act as an airborne early warning system against any MiG interference. Four Mirage IIICZs from 2 Squadron (the famed “Flying Cheetahs”) were also added almost at the last minute to counter the threat from the MiGs.
In hindsight, this was woefully inadequate. As we shall see, there were simply not enough ground-attack aircraft on the scene to counter the Cuban threat. The Mirage IIIs were interceptors, not really bombers, and their limited range meant that they could not stay above the battlefield for longer than a few minutes. The four Mirages, which also had to stand in as back-up ground attackers, were also insufficient to counter a determined MiG intervention from Lubango or Menongue. Fortunately, such an intervention never happened, but that changes nothing about the fact that the SADF had too little air capacity at Cassinga.[21]
The ground plan was tactically sound, making maximum use of shock effect and surprise. There would, in effect, be a double surprise. The Calonga River, which flows north–south to the west of the town, formed a natural barrier, and so the SWAPO defences were strongest to the north, east and south. They were not expecting a thrust from the west, and yet this is exactly what Breytenbach and his planners decided to do. Furthermore, being so far from the border, the SWAPO fighters felt safe in Cassinga, and never expected a parachute assault.[22] When everything is taken into account, the boldness of the operation was an important factor in its eventual success.
Political considerations played an important role in the timing of the operation. South Africa had just accepted UN Security Council Resolution 435, and with it the prospect of Namibian independence and elections under UN supervision. However, the Vorster government still felt the need to project a strong image and to deal SWAPO a heavy blow in order to diminish the rebel movement’s capacity to win an election. After all, SWAPO leader Sam Nujoma had only recently proclaimed that his movement was fighting for total power and that elections were unimportant to them (see Chapter 10).
The date of Operation Reindeer was shifted repeatedly, until, finally, word came through that the operation was set for 4 May. The paratroopers, who had been training hard in total isolation in the Orange Free State province, were informed of their mission. They then boarded the C-130 and C-160 aircraft and were flown to Grootfontein Air Force Base on 3 May in preparation for the big day – the largest air assault in South African military history.
In order to mislead the enemy, a large combined mechanised infantry and parachute exercise, known as Exercise Kwiksilwer, was laid on at Schmidtsdrif at the same time as the operation. However, the paratroopers and the Ratel troops involved in Operation Reindeer never showed up.
Cassinga: the battle
The Prussian general Helmuth von Moltke (1800–1891) reputedly said that no battle plan ever survives first contact with the enemy. The Battle of Cassinga was no exception. In fact, things began to go wrong even before the first transport aircraft left Bloemspruit Air Force Base for Grootfontein. The aerial-photo interpreters had misjudged the height at which the photos of Cassinga had been taken, and consequently used the wrong scale and got the distances on the ground wrong. Based on this, incorrect information was given to the transport pilots about exactly when to start the paratroop drop. Also, the photographs were about six months old and had been taken in the dry season, when the Calonga River was little more than a trickle. On the day of the attack, the river was full.
At 07h50 the Canberras dropped a total of 1 200 antipersonnel bombs; they were followed shortly afterwards by the Buccaneers, which dropped 32 high-explosive bombs (450 kg each). This air strike was timed to coincide with the camp’s morning mustering parade, and the attack caused enormous carnage on the parade ground. The Buccaneers’ ordnance was of Second World War vintage, and exploded with great sound and fury, but signified not very much. It brought down a few buildings and left great craters in which PLAN fighters could take cover and make life difficult for the attackers. The smoke caused by the first attacks obscured the Buccaneer pilots’ view, and some of their bombs fell in the bush south of the camp without any effect. Also, the most important part of the base – the heavily defended headquarters complex – was not hit at all, since it had not been identified by the aerial-photo interpreters.
While the Mirages swooped over Cassinga, their 30-mm cannon chattering, the paratroopers commenced their drop, which went awry from the start. Because of the photo interpreters’ mistake, the soldiers were dropped too late and had to struggle with a stronger-than-expected northeasterly wind. Instead of landing between the village and the river to its west, a sizeable part of Alpha and Bravo companies landed spread out across the western side of river and to the southwest. About a third to a half of them first had to struggle across the swollen river.
The tactical plan was in a shambles. On the other side, Charlie Company was also dropped late and to the southeast of the target, instead of due east. The two platoons to be dropped to the north landed in the village, right on top of the defenders, while only Delta Company, to the south, came down more or less in their intended landing zone. Breytenbach’s forces were therefore in the wrong positions. This also left many gaps through which some SWAPO fighters – including PLAN commander-in-chief Dimo Hamaambo (nom de guerre “Jesus”) – promptly escaped. Hamaambo was nowhere to be found for the rest of the day, and his fighters had to battle alone and leaderless.
Any combat parachute drop is followed by a period of confusion – hopefully very short – in which the commander has to establish control over the battle. At Cassinga, Breytenbach had an almost impossible struggle to succeed, but the highly aggressive paratroopers immediately attacked the enemy fighters wherever they found them. Having established the whereabouts of his troops, Breytenbach proved what an excellent tactician he was. He decided to change the axis of attack – planned to be from west to east – to south to north. A suitable site to cross the river was found, and with Alpha and Bravo companies forming up to the south and southeast of Cassinga, the attack could finally begin, albeit 60 to 90 minutes behind schedule.
This delay had serious consequences. Firstly, it meant that the PLAN fighters had time to recover from the shock and confusion of the air attack. Secondly, the whole tactical plan, daring as it was, depended upon speed. The troops had to be inserted quickly, do the job posthaste and then be extracted. It was cutting things very fine indeed. The delay also would give the Cuban battle group at Techamutete additional time to react.
What is more, unknown to the South Africans, a mechanised combat group of FAPLA tanks, guns and infantry under Cuban officers was also rushing in from the north. Umkhonto we Sizwe (MK) member Joseph Kobo, who was with them, related how they saw everything happening in the distance, but arrived at the battlefield just too late to intervene. Only years later, when he was discussing the matter with Kobo, it dawned on Breytenbach that his force had narrowly escaped being attacked not only from the south, but from the north too.[23] This scenario had not been foreseen during the planning phase.
Meanwhile, from the north, the independent platoon advanced against relatively light opposition, driving the defenders before them, until they encountered their compatriots coming from the opposite direction. Simultaneously, with Alpha Company on the left and Bravo on the right, Breytenbach launched his main attack northwards. It began well, with the attackers making good progress, especially Bravo Company. This force was for a time stopped by heavy machine-gun fire, but the advance of the independent platoon in the north put paid to this.
Alpha came up against formidable defences, especially a mix of at least one 23-mm cannon and some 14,5-mm and 12,7-mm heavy machine guns, which, together with other light machine guns, pinned the South Africans down under a hail of fire. From the north, the defenders’ escape route was now cut off, so they stood and fought where they were – either with the desperation of fear or considerable bravery. With accurate rifle and mortar fire, the South Africans killed the SWAPO gun crews several times, but again and again there was no shortage of defenders to take their dead comrades’ places and continue firing. Each time the attackers thought the guns were silenced, only to hear the deadly staccato stuttering resume after a few seconds.
In the end, Breytenbach sent two platoons from his reserve in Delta Company in a left flanking attack, which had to clear a whole zigzag trench system metre by metre – a savage, messy and bloody affair. In the process, many civilians, even children, hiding among the fighters in the trenches were also killed. In the chaotic circumstances, nobody could afford to ask questions first. Some of the defenders were women, but armed and in uniform, fighting and dying bravely. At last, the heavy machine guns were silenced, and in Cassinga itself the surviving PLAN defenders started surrendering.
Charlie Company had also cleared the trenches on the eastern outskirts of the town. At this point, another problem cropped up in the form of Brigadier Martiens du Plessis, who had jumped with the paratroop force but had no place in the command structure. However, not only did he appropriate Breytenbach’s only radio able to communicate with the operational headquarters at Ondangwa, but he ordered the choppers from Whisky 3 to start the extraction procedure prematurely. Although the climax of the battle was past, Cassinga was not yet totally secured. The decision threw the carefully crafted extraction plan into disarray.
Together with the first wave of helicopters, an unexpected visitor turned up – the dapper, white-haired figure of Lieutenant General Constand Viljoen, Chief of the Army. A real soldier’s soldier, he wanted to see and experience things for himself. One cannot but admire him for this, although he arrived in full rank insignia, to the consternation of the officers on the ground.
But more problems loomed to the south. The Cubans and Angolans at Techamutete had awoken to the sounds of battle and were on their way in force. In fact, they were quite slow in reacting. According to a Cuban source, the local commander had to get permission first from the Cuban commanding general in Luanda, and this was slow in coming.[24] Nevertheless, this was even more of a problem than it should have been, as Delta Company, which was supposed to support the antitank platoon exactly against this eventuality, was unilaterally pulled back by Du Plessis and sent off with the first load of troops being evacuated. This left only the antitank platoon, with its nine RPG-7s and 45 rockets, to stop the advance of an entire mechanised battle group. With some paratroopers having been flown out already, the remaining force numbered perhaps 200. It was a very precarious situation.
This problem was exacerbated when the antitank platoon was ordered – it is not known by whom, although it was not Breytenbach – to vacate their carefully chosen ambush position a kilometre south of Cassinga and pull back to a position on the outskirts. When the enemy battle group arrived, they were nevertheless hit with everything the platoon had to offer, and the Cubans and Angolans suffered heavily. But it also meant that the battle group was now on Cassinga’s doorstep, and thus a far greater menace than if had they been engaged further away from the town. It would take some time before the helicopters would be able to return, so Breytenbach and his men were, to put it mildly, up the creek without a paddle. The battle was balanced on a knife-edge between success and disaster. Even Constand Viljoen, expecting to be captured, took off his rank insignia and general’s beret and hid them.
Breytenbach asked Ondangwa urgently for air support. The problem was that the attack on Chetequera was about to commence, and the bombers were needed for that part of the operation. So the Mirages were scrambled and one Buccaneer diverted to cover the paratroopers. The Mirages, of course, were interceptors and not configured for tank attacks, although the Buccaneer was. What happened next was drama of the highest order. The story is perhaps best taken up by Captain Dries Marais, pilot of the Buccaneer, who flew with navigator Ernie Harvey:
As I rolled into my dive attack on the tanks, which had by now reached the outskirts of Cassinga, in front of me, just settling into their attack, were the two Mirages. The 30 mm HE rounds of the first one exploded ineffectively on the lead tank and I called out to the second aircraft to leave the tanks alone and go for the personnel carriers. The pilot confirmed my request and the next moment I was overjoyed with pride as I witnessed my closest friend, Major Johan Radloff, whose voice I had immediately recognised, take out three BTRs with a single burst from his twin cannon.
Turning round for another pass, we could see the first tank burning like a furnace, and on this run, the lead Mirage pilot destroyed no fewer than five BTRs with a long burst, running his shells in movie-like fashion through them. “Dis hoe die boere skiet, julle ****sems!” were my thoughts and then our second salvo of 12 rockets, every third one with an armour-piercing head, also struck home.
In a matter of seconds, two tanks and about 16 armoured personnel carriers had been completely destroyed, and then the Mirages were down to their minimum combat fuel and they had to retire leaving us to deal with the rest.
We decided to concentrate on the tanks, and then things started happening. Most of the BTRs were trailing twin-barrelled 14,5-mm anti-aircraft guns, and some of them were now deployed and shooting at us. Even one of the tanks was firing with its main weapon and I remember being amused at the gunner’s optimism at hitting a manoeuvring target travelling at 600 knots.
Ernie, on the other hand, was far from amused, as he was not, like me, in a state of aggression and experiencing tunnel vision. Keeping a good look out all around, he was actually aware of several AA [anti-aircraft] positions firing at us. He was even less impressed at my dismissal of the problem, but my whole system was now charged to take out the remaining tanks.
As we turned in again, these two tanks left the road and disappeared into the bush. We destroyed another BTR, but decided to save our ammunition for the tanks. Flying around trying to locate them, I became annoyed with one AA site, which kept up a steady stream of tracer in our direction and decided to take it out. It was, in fact, the gun which had been towed by the BTR we had just destroyed, and to this day I can only have respect for the discipline and courage of the gun crew and some troops who kept up their firing – even with their small arms – until my rockets exploded amongst them, killing the lot and destroying the gun.
As I broke off from this attack, the huge gaggle of helicopters passed underneath us and landed in the pre-planned area to pick up the troops. By this time I had learned that the Chief of the Army, Lieut General Viljoen, was on the ground with them, and that there was grave concern for his safety.
Then, as the helicopters were landing, the remaining two tanks reappeared on the road and started shelling the landing area which was in a shallow depression. Because of this, and the inability of that particular type of tank to lower its gun far enough, they were fortunately over the target, and, calculating that we had 12 rockets left, I asked Ernie to give me only six, leaving another salvo for the other tank.
Timing was critical as the tanks were beginning to find their range. I realised that they HAD to be stopped. It was a textbook, low-angle attack, and the “Buc” was as steady as a rock in the dive. It was like lining up on a trophy kudu bull after a perfect stalk, but when I pulled the trigger, nothing happened – no rockets, not even one.
I jerked the aircraft around, almost in agony, cursing Ernie for having selected the wrong switches. He was quite adamant that he had selected the switches correctly, and then we went in for another attack, but with the same heart-stopping result.
Without really thinking it out, I opened the throttles wide and kept the aircraft in the dive, levelling off at the last moment, and flying over the tank very low and doing nearly Mach One.
Turning, we went in again from the front, this time doing the same thing with the tank once more shooting at us. I assumed that the crew would have no idea that we were out of ammunition, and hoping to intimidate them, we continued to make fast, head-on low level mock attacks. The Buccaneer from close up is an intimidating aircraft. Flying low, it makes a terrific noise compressed into a single instant as a shock wave, and if this had an amplified resonance inside the tank, the crew would have to be well-trained to stay with it, were my thoughts!
Again I can only praise God, for I remember distinctly having felt during those minutes which followed, being an instrument in His hands; myself a perfect part of the aircraft, and He the Pilot. As it was, the tank crews were eventually sufficiently intimidated to once again seek cover in the heavy bush, enabling the helicopters to load their precious cargo and get away safely.[25]
After Marais returned to Grootfontein, an astounding 17 hits were counted on the Buccaneer. This included a 76-mm hit through one of the wings and a 37-mm AA hit through the port wing flap. There were 14,5-mm hits through both engines and a 14,5-mm hit right through the windscreen. Marais received the Honoris Crux for his bravery.
The air attack provided enough cover for the choppers to land and take aboard the South Africans still on the ground. Obviously, the carefully planned order of extraction was thrown to the winds, and everybody scrambled onto any available helicopter, an understandable measure of panic helping them along. The surviving Cuban T-34 was at this stage only 200 m away, but it happened to be on an up-slope and could not depress its gun enough to be accurate. Its shells burst way beyond the South Africans. Some civilians pleaded with the officers to be taken home, claiming they had been abducted. They even tried to clamber aboard, but there was simply no room and the soldiers were the first priority. By then, the Cuban tank was taking pot shots at the choppers.
One Puma, piloted by Major John Church, spotted a soldier left behind, waving forlornly to the departing choppers. Church did not hesitate. He turned back, landed, and not one, but five, paratroopers frantically scrambled aboard. He took off again, this time under heavy small-arms and tank fire. But he got away and flew a final circuit over the mining town to make doubly sure no one had been left behind. The battle was over. Four South African soldiers had died and 12 had been wounded. The Buccaneer that had replaced that of Dries Marais fired a few parting shots, while two Mirages destroyed the last of the Cuban tanks and shot up the town again.
Cassinga: the controversy
The attack on Cassinga was undoubtedly the single most controversial battle of the entire Border War. Subsequent to the battle, a major controversy developed around the nature of the camp at Cassinga. Was it, as SWAPO claimed, a refugee camp housing hundreds of civilians (mainly women and children who had fled, in SWAPO’s view, cruel colonial oppression), or was it, as the SADF said, a military planning, logistics and training base? The fact that about 600 people died in the attack made it, whatever the truth, an excellent opportunity for propaganda. Indeed, the smoke still largely obscures the battlefield.
A few days after the attack, SWAPO flew in a number of journalists to view the results of the carnage. One mass grave was already covered, but another was still littered with bodies. Jane Bergerol reported for the BBC and The Guardian: “First we saw gaily coloured frocks, blue jeans, shirts and a few uniforms. Then there was the sight of the bodies inside them. Swollen, blood-stained, they were the bodies of young girls, young men, a few older adults, some young children, all apparently recent arrivals from Namibia . . .”[26] Sara Rodriguez from the Guardian, a left-wing New York publication, who was also in the party, used similar words to describe the “brightly coloured cotton frocks of young girls, jeans, checkered shirts of the boys, a few khaki uniforms and the swollen bodies of the dead. The victims were mostly very young and had no defence.”[27]
These quotations set the scene and became the primary sources for many of the allegations against the SADF. Many other allegations were added later, such as that the SAAF dropped poison gas on the inhabitants of Cassinga, and that the paratroopers indiscriminately bayoneted innocent old people, women and children, even raping women before killing them.[28] The left-wing activist Randolph Vigne wrote: “There was no battle. Botha’s troops parachuted in on May 4, slaughtering 600, the great majority of ‘other followers’ being women and children as revealed by photographs of the great mass graves taken by the international media flown in in May 8.”[29]
Piero Gleijeses, who, as we have seen, has trouble hiding his pro-Castro bias, also wrote that “it is more important than ever to remember the crime of Cassinga . . .”.[30] British journalist Gavin Cawthra accepted SWAPO’s version without any discussion.[31] None of these commentators bothered to examine the evidence. One academic who did, Annemarie Heywood, accepted SWAPO’s contention that Cassinga was a refugee camp, but with the qualification that there was a protection unit of 200 to 300 men with two anti-aircraft guns. According to Heywood, Cassinga was not primarily a PLAN establishment, but “was under strict military control and was run on military lines . . .” She also alleged that the South African soldiers killed or bayoneted everyone they could find.[32] Heywood’s version was, by and large, echoed by South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) in the 1990s.[33]
SWAPO leader Sam Nujoma, displaying a remarkable disregard for facts, told an international conference in 1987 that “heavy bombers and helicopter gunships”, which he described as “twelve French-made Mirage jets [sic], British-made Hercules troop carriers [sic] and five helicopters [sic] took part in this operation . . . Chemical weapons, including inflammable phosphate liquid, tear gas and paralysing nerve gas [sic] were also used.”[34] (Nujoma did not explain how the SADF paratroopers, who landed immediately after these barbaric weapons were allegedly used, were supposed to have protected themselves from them.) On another occasion, he said that among those “shot and bayoneted to death” were “pregnant women, babies and elderly persons”.[35]
On the other hand, South African participants in the attack indignantly denied any wrongdoing. Cassinga was a legitimate military target, populated by PLAN fighters who bravely defended the base, they contended. Lieutenant General Constand Viljoen stated in an interview that Cassinga was “a huge logistics support base” from which it was suspected SWAPO was gathering its forces for an infiltration into SWA to upset the Turnhalle talks (held between the internal South West African parties to discuss the territory’s future). “It is true there were some women and children, but completely untrue to say they made up most of those killed. SWAPO had some women in uniform and there were also girlfriends of fighters present. When I was standing at the main objective in Cassinga, there were many buildings around me that were apparently magazines, because they were all exploding,” he told a journalist.[36]
Colonel Jan Breytenbach later wrote a book fiercely defending his men from the charges of wanton cruelty and murder. He found “no or very few refugees at the base. The civilians comprised mostly abductees who were forcibly plucked from their neighbourhoods to fill the role of refugees . . .”[37]
So what was the nature of Cassinga?
First of all, it should be asked what the SADF planners actually knew – or thought they knew – about Cassinga. The documentary evidence is clear. First of all, the aerial photographs taken by SAAF reconnaissance aircraft and published in several sources show an extensive system of defensive trenches typical of a military installation.[38] This is what the planners saw, and it formed part of the intelligence upon which they based the operation. McGill “Mac” Alexander, a seasoned paratroop officer with considerable operational experience, says that “a spurt of development and extension” was observed in the days leading up to the attack. The “vast array of sophisticated defensive trenches and bunkers” indicated “a defensive force of at least a battalion, which would seem a rather large element to guard a refugee camp. To defend an important operational headquarters or a logistics base, on the other hand, this would be quite realistic.”[39]
This inference was backed up by information from PLAN prisoners captured north of the Angolan border by 32 Battalion patrols. They told their interrogators of a base they called “the Farm”, where PLAN’s commander, Dimo Hamaambo, had his headquarters. After a while, the exact location was discovered by an SAAF Canberra photo-reconnaissance plane from 12 Squadron. Intelligence also discovered the existence of the PLAN base at Chetequera, about 22 km inside Angola, and confirmed it with a Canberra photo sortie.[40]
In a memorandum to convince the SADF leadership that the attack was necessary, it was categorically stated: “No civilians will be involved.” Cassinga (referred to by its SADF designation, Alpha), was described as “the operational military headquarters of SWAPO from where all operations against SWA are planned and the execution coordinated. From the base all supplies and weaponry are forwarded to the bases nearer to the front. Here training takes place too. In short, it is probably the most important base of SWAPO in Angola.”[41]
Yet another major document, signed by the Chief of Staff Operations and dated 1 April 1978, was silent about the presence of civilians or refugees at Cassinga. The camp was described as PLAN’s headquarters, where Hamaambo planned and coordinated all operations in South West Africa from a central operations room. It was also a logistics, training and medical facility, the destruction of which would disrupt SWAPO’s operations for at least six months. The population was described “as varying between 300 and 1 200 terrorists and an unknown number of armed women terrorists”.[42]
Even the TRC, which in general condemned the National Party government and its institutions, after examining the SADF documents, acknowledged “that the SADF command was convinced that Kassinga [sic] was the planning headquarters of PLAN, and thus a military target of key importance”.[43]
It may therefore be stated unequivocally that, whatever the actual composition of the population at Cassinga on 4 May 1978, the SADF was under the impression that what it was attacking was a PLAN military headquarters and base.
But what, then, of the photographs of the mass grave taken a few days after the event? In one widely disseminated photo, one sees a mass of bodies, with a woman in civilian dress lying on top, legs wide. No other women or children are visible. The rest of the bodies appear to be men (recognisable by the unclad upper torsos) and/or women in uniform. Most bodies lie face down. Other photographs show one and two women, respectively, in civilian clothes visible among a host of uniformed men.[44] These photographs are all of the second trench; none are available of the other one, which was already covered up when the journalists arrived on the scene on 8 May.[45] Certainly the available photographic evidence does not back up the claims of “gaily coloured frocks” and “blue jeans”, or “the bodies of young girls”, even though some of the photos are in colour. In none of the photographs are any children visible, let alone babies.
SWAPO apologists make much of a report by a UNICEF team only a few days before the attack, which alleged that about 70% of the inhabitants of Cassinga were “adolescents, children and infants”, while the rest were “essentially adults with very few elderly persons”.[46] However, even Annemarie Heywood, who finds it hard to hide her disapproval of the SADF, states that the report is totally wrong about the physical environment: “When describing the Cassinga water supply, this report details arrangements which seem to match those at Chetequera (or possibly elsewhere) but do not make sense for Cassinga.”[47]
There is also an interesting report by MK cadre Joseph Kobo, who was in the vicinity when the battle was raging. Kobo, whose job was “supervising supply routes for SWAPO-ANC camps near the border”, described Cassinga as “the main SWAPO command post in southern Angola”. Kobo happened to witness the assault from a distance and realised, as he wrote later, that SAAF aerial reconnaissance aircraft “had seen the build-up of supplies for an obvious SWAPO infiltration campaign and it was being nailed right on the head”. Entering Cassinga after the paratroopers’ extraction by helicopter, he saw that it had been razed to the ground. “Six months of logistics work had literally gone up in smoke. Thousands, millions of rounds of ammunition were still exploding . . .” The attack, he went on, had done a lot of damage to SWAPO’s war effort. “It had burnt away nearly all the infiltration lines into Namibia. Some of the SWAPO groups on the far side of the border were cut off without resupply and there would be no quick way to re-establish contact.”[48]
What Kobo was describing here was clearly not a refugee camp. According to Jan Breytenbach, Kobo told him that PLAN was engaged in a build-up “for an overwhelming incursion by heavily armed SWAPO gangs towards the end of April”. The Cubans at Cassinga, together with Dimo Hamaambo, “were at the centre of the planning process”.[49]
SWAPO’s defence secretary, Peter Nanyemba, wrote in a confidential report about the battle (unearthed by Mac Alexander in the SADF archive) that “[o]ur ground force consisted of about 600 cadres, 300 of whom were fresh from the Hainyeko Training Centre”.[50] This was never repeated in public by any SWAPO spokesman.
An American academic, Christian Williams, who has examined SWAPO’s atrocities against its own people, discovered that many of the dissidents arrested in 1976 (see Chapter 11) had been transferred to Cassinga shortly before the SADF attack. It must rank as one of the highest ironies of war that some of these prisoners were probably killed in the attack. “Also, as became evident in my research interviews, some SWAPO critics who lived in exile quietly question the dominant narrative about Cassinga and describe the camp in ways that resemble the South African alternative version of it,” Williams comments.[51]
It should be noted that the SADF never denied that its troops encountered – and killed – women and children during the fighting. There may be something in Mac Alexander’s conclusion that one cannot categorically classify “any guerrilla camp as either ‘military’ or ‘civilian’. The nature of a guerrilla or insurgency war is such that the two are inextricably intertwined.” This implies “a blurred differentiation between military and civilian activities”.[52] The journalist Willem Steenkamp comes to the same conclusion: “Yes, Cassinga had a strong military presence – not just a small protection element – because it was both a military base and the main PLAN command headquarters. And yes, it did house a large number of civilians of one description or another.”[53] Lastly, the TRC also accepted that Cassinga “was thus both a military base and a refugee camp”.[54]
The question may, of course, also be approached from the other side. If we accept – as we must, given the evidence – that Cassinga was, among other things, a military base, did SWAPO have any justification for housing civilian refugees there? Is it possible that they were kept there deliberately as human shields against an SADF attack? While it is possible, it does not sound very plausible, given that no SADF attack was expected here. Legalities such as keeping military and civilians apart – as the Geneva Convention stipulates – would hardly play a prominent role in a guerrilla conflict of this nature. On a balance of probabilities, the mixing of troops and civilians was most probably simple ineptitude on SWAPO’s part.
The attack on Chetequera
The airborne assault on Cassinga was so dramatic that the second and third phases of Operation Reindeer are often overlooked. Yet, on an operational level, the attack on Chetequera proved to be an even more valuable experience for the SADF. Cassinga was an airborne assault, and was never to be repeated. Chetequera was the first of many operations that employed a mixture of mechanised and motorised infantry, backed by armoured cars and air support. For the attack on other, smaller SWAPO bases closer to the border, an artillery battery with eight 140-mm G-2 guns was also included.
Chetequera would be attacked by Battle Group Juliet,[55] a force spawned mainly by 1 SAI at Bloemfontein. As we saw in Chapter 3, 1 SAI had been transformed into the army’s first mechanised infantry unit in 1973, and, as Roland de Vries remembers, “[t]he training for evolving mobile warfare concepts and the appropriate development of South Africa’s mechanised infantry systems commenced in all seriousness at Bloemfontein in 1976.”[56]
The attack on Chetequera would be preceded by a small operation that was more important than it seems at first glance. This was a foray by Juliet into Angola to try to rescue Sapper Johan van der Mescht, who had been captured by a group of PLAN insurgents only a few days previously. Battle Group Juliet happened to be in Ovamboland to evaluate the new mechanised doctrine and the Ratel under operational conditions, and this presented an excellent opportunity. Under Commandant Joep Joubert, the unit crossed the border posthaste in the vicinity of Eenhana, where the woods were about the densest along the whole border. About 10 km inside Angola, the first SWAPO base was hit. Ep van Lill later remembered:
As we hit this first base, we were shocked because it was very well camouflaged. When the Ratels got into the trenches, we could not get through or out, as the Ratel at that stage did not have multiwheel drive. The brush badly damaged the air pressure pipes underneath the vehicles. I had to hitch up to six vehicles to each other to pull one out. I looked like a speed cop on the target. Lucky for us, the enemy fled, but it was a very hasty evacuation because the fires still burned and the porridge was still on the fire.[57]
After this, the column attacked a second base, but again SWAPO had already fled. As it was getting dark, the South African column withdrew under cover of artillery fire.[58] In the event, Van der Mescht was not rescued, and remained a prisoner until released in May 1982.[59]
This rather short operation was the very first SADF foray into Angola using mechanised forces. In light of the army’s lack of experience with mechanised movements in operational conditions, this was of great importance. According to Major Hans Kriek, Juliet’s second in command at the time, doctrine called for the avoidance of land mines at all costs. “Therefore we had to bundu-bash all the way, and that brought about much damage. At times, it was near chaos; in fact, it would have been chaos if it wasn’t for the cool leadership of Commandant Joep Joubert.”[60]
Van Lill concurs: “Our vehicles were, however, in a bad condition. Everything which could be broken off by the bush, was broken off, and the soft-skinned vehicles were all dents and without windows. Everything was taken to Grootfontein, and there an intense effort was made to repair the vehicles and make them bush-resistant.”[61]
For the attack on Chetequera, Battle Group Juliet was put under the command of Commandant Frank Bestbier, Joubert’s successor at 1 SAI, an experienced infantry officer who had seen action during Savannah. He would be accompanied by an observer from the Chief of the Army, Commandant (later Major General) Johann “Dippies” Dippenaar, an officer whom we shall meet again later in this book.[62] The unit had 31 Ratels, 23 Eland armoured cars, 9 Buffel armoured personnel carriers and 18 soft-skinned vehicles in the rear echelon. These were divided into three detachments: Combat Team 1, under the command of Major Ep van Lill (one Eland troop and a beefed-up Ratel company); Combat Team 2, under Major PW de Jager (three Eland troops and three support sections in Buffels); and Combat Team 3, under Lieutenant (later Commandant) Mike Muller (one Eland troop, one mechanised infantry platoon and three support sections, plus combat engineers). The formation also had an 81-mm mortar group.
Aerial photographs of Chetequera showed a base with about 200 to 300 men, well dug in with extensive trenches and bunkers, heavy machine guns, mortars and antitank weapons. The photos also showed that the point of gravity of the defences lay in the south. This was logical; any attack would, after all, most probably come from the direction of South West Africa. Therefore, Bestbier decided not to indulge the SWAPO commander, but to attack from the north, where the South Africans were clearly not expected.
The preparation was meticulous. A similar terrain was chosen in Ovamboland, and the SWAPO base was rebuilt there. The attack was repeatedly exercised until everybody knew exactly what to do. Bestbier’s operational instruction contained, among other things, strict orders that prisoners had to be taken and that nobody should be killed in cold blood. Shooting prisoners or members of the local population was emphatically out. Fighting with FAPLA or the Cubans had to be avoided.
The idea was that Van Lill’s Combat Team 1 would comprise the main punch of the attack. They would attack from the north and push right through to the south. De Jager’s Combat Team 2 would cover Van Lill’s attack on the western or right flank, its Eland 90s being used more or less in a mobile-artillery role. Muller’s Combat Team 3 would be stationed to the northeast to counter any enemy intervention from that direction. The mechanised infantry would fight mainly from within their Ratels. The attack would start at midday, after a bombardment by the same Canberras and Buccaneers that had brought death to Cassinga that morning. After Chetequera’s destruction, the combat group would attack a smaller base at Mahama on the way back.
Things started to go wrong slightly during the march to Chetequera. The combat group moved during the night, but one delay after the other meant that the assembly area for the attack was reached about 90 minutes late. However, the air support was also late, due to the events at Cassinga. At 13h30, the bombers – two Buccaneers, followed by four Canberras – finally went in.
The air attack caused a lot of shock, but relatively little damage, as the bushes cushioned the Canberras’ anti-personnel bombs, which did not explode. At this stage, Bestbier discovered that he could not talk to the aircraft to make sure they had completed their task, and another delay ensued. This did not matter much, though, because the enemy fighters were still very much “punch-drunk” when the ground attack went in, according to Van Lill.
Ten minutes after the aircraft were done, the ground troops were unleashed. Van Lill’s troops found that their sight was extremely limited due to crops growing in the fields, and they had to form their attack wedge formation on the go. They stormed into the base, but ran into trouble almost immediately. The terrain was very thickly wooded, so that Van Lill had to struggle hard to keep control over his own combat group. The Eland troop, which had to cover his attack from the northwest, found itself 800 m to the south, while the main axis of the advance was about 15° to the east of what it should have been. He could not see more than four of his vehicles at any time, but he succeeded in keeping the momentum going. Some Ratels fell into trenches or got stuck in the huge ant heaps and had to be towed out under heavy machine gun and rifle fire.
A medic, one Forster, remembers: “We flew into the base with the Browning machine gun shooting left, right and centre. Us at the back [of the vehicle] of course were so excited that we shot at any movement the enemy made. A few shots flew over our heads, but it was in vain. We did not allow those unaimed shots to disturb us.”[63]
Within 10 minutes, the Ratels drove right through the base in a southerly direction, shooting everything up and trampling a number of SWAPO fighters. At a recoilless 75-mm gun position, an estimated 26 PLAN fighters were killed despite their determined attempts to bring the weapon into action. It was in vain. “The enemy’s resistance astonished everyone,” Bestbier wrote in his report.[64] The 81-mm mortar group was supposed to give indirect support, but was too late in position to do so. Luckily for the South Africans, they had developed a technique – strictly speaking, illegal – of deploying 60-mm mortars on sandbags on the Ratels’ backs, so the absence of 81-mm mortar support did not make that much difference. The terrain was so rough that when Van Lill reached his objective south of the base 11 minutes later, he discovered that only 5 of his 14 Ratels remained entirely serviceable; the tyres on all the others were flat. (At this stage, the Ratel was not yet fitted with flat-run tyres, which would have enabled them to continue.)
Meanwhile, Combat Team 2 (De Jager) moved too far west before changing direction to the south, and consequently missed the northwestern corner of the base. They drew heavy fire, and two South Africans were killed, possibly by friendly fire.[65] Their covering fire – meant to support Van Lill’s advance – was also less effective than it was supposed to be because of the dense bush. Not only were they unsure of exactly where their comrades were, they were often unable to see the enemy in the bush. One Eland was shot out, but the others killed enemy fighters by the dozen.
But the battle was far from over. Having reached the objective south of Chetequera, Van Lill had his soldiers debus and move on foot. But he now discovered that his rapid advance had missed quite a number of SWAPO fighters, who started firing at his force from the rear. He had no option: the attack had to be launched all over again, this time in the opposite, northerly direction. And because most of the enemy were concentrated here, it meant heavy going. Van Lill received reinforcements in the form of a mechanised platoon from Combat Team 3. A group of five Alouette III helicopter gunships also joined in the fight, picking off the enemy from the air with their 20-mm cannon. Two were hit by the defenders and had to return to base.
Van Lill witnessed one of his troops grabbing an insurgent’s rifle and slapping him hard in the face. When an alarmed Van Lill asked the soldier what the hell he was doing, the man showed him that the enemy fighter had a stoppage, and that he was thus in no danger.
At about 15h15, the base was at last in South African control, after which the rear echelon could move in to resupply the combat teams and render medical aid to wounded SADF and SWAPO personnel. Several women were among the prisoners, many of them clad only in underclothes. Apparently, they had been engaged in calisthenics when the attack started. “What struck me,” Van Lill commented many years later, “was that the women were far braver than the men”.[66]
The final South African casualty figure was 2 dead and 10 wounded, while more than 200 SWAPO fighters were killed and another 200 were taken prisoner. Among the prisoners were four panic-stricken young women, discovered in a hut, frantically reading aloud from the Bible. “It was not a pleasant task,” Bestbier commented.[67]
It was now too late to attack the SWAPO base at Mahama, as planned. The combat group therefore stayed in the bush overnight and returned to their base at Oshivello in Ovamboland the next day.
Cassinga and Chetequera were the most important parts of Operation Reindeer, but there were a number of other attacks on SWAPO bases. Two combat teams under Commandant Chris Serfontein (for some reason generally known as “Swart Hand” or Black Hand) and Joep Joubert, supported by a 140-mm G-2 battery under Major Piet Uys, took on five SWAPO bases near the border, namely, Windhoek, Dombondola 1 and 2, Chatua and Haimona. Additionally, five companies of 32 Battalion under Major (later Brigadier General) Eddie Viljoen would take care of 17 smaller bases further eastwards. All these attacks were unsuccessful, as the bases proved to have been hurriedly evacuated.[68]
Lessons learnt
Tactically, the airborne assault on Cassinga elicited much interest, especially among the airborne community. The United States, United Kingdom, Soviet Union, France, Germany and Israel all had considerable airborne forces, some being airlifted by helicopter, others still parachute-trained. (A group of Israeli officers even visited South Africa – as Jannie Geldenhuys put it – to “find out how the hell we managed to do that operation”. The leader of the visitors was Colonel Dan Shomron, commander of the famed Entebbe raid of 1976.)[69]
Cassinga’s tactical and operational influence on the Border War itself was, however, next to nil. This was despite the establishment of 44 Parachute Brigade, consisting of three (later four) parachute battalions, with a 120-mm mortar battery and other support troops, all parachute-trained. Provided the SAAF had enough airlift capacity (which was not the case), the whole brigade could be dropped behind enemy lines to create mayhem. But that was not to be. For the remainder of the war, paratroopers were mostly used either as motorised infantry on cross-border operations, or as Romeo Mike (see Chapter 9) reaction forces in the counterinsurgency war in northern SWA. Although the brigade’s enthusiastic commanders, colonels Jan Breytenbach, Frank Bestbier, Archie Moore and Mac Alexander, attempted to sell the airborne concept to the SADF high command,[70] the way Cassinga had teetered on the brink of a disaster probably weighed too heavily on the generals’ minds. So, like the German Oberkommando der Wehrmacht following the parachute assault on Crete in May 1941, the high command came to the conclusion that large-scale parachute operations were too risky.
The landward attack on Chetequera, the baptism of fire for the Ratel, was in fact much more meaningful than Cassinga as a template for future attacks. Chetequera became the prototype of the later large-scale cross-border operations into Angola. The army analysed the performance of the Ratel closely and made several changes to the vehicle based on the experience at Chetequera.[71]
Another problem that cropped up at Cassinga as well as Chetequera was the inadequacy of the South African radio system. Not only did the “pongos” (the army guys) on the ground find it difficult to communicate with supporting aircraft, they also had problems contacting each other. This complicated things unnecessarily. The problem would be solved with new radio equipment, which was procured later.
Operationally, the operation was not as successful as had been hoped. Still, according to the SADF figures, 856 SWAPO fighters were killed and more than 200 taken prisoner (at Chetequera), which meant that SWAPO had lost about a third of its ready military force.[72] But Jan Breytenbach writes of “a general relaxation on the part of the South Africans with no follow-through to maintain the initiative”,[73] thereby disregarding an important military principle. Indeed, until July there was a drastic decrease in insurgent activity south of the border, but in the absence of a follow-up, it flared up again considerably.[74]
Another operational consequence was that SWAPO also learnt a few important lessons. Cassinga in particular had been laid out as an orthodox military base, with buildings, roads and a parade ground. Hereafter, bases were spread out over much bigger areas, with covered bunkers replacing buildings and everything being camouflaged. This would make things much more difficult for the South Africans in forthcoming operations. Also, the bases were moved around, which meant that the SADF’s intelligence picture became outdated rather quickly.[75]
Another consequence of the operation was the establishment of a permanent mechanised unit in northern SWA, to be used in cross-border operations. Battle Group Juliet was an ad hoc unit, put together especially for the attack on Chetequera. After the event, the idea was to store the equipment at Grootfontein, to be used by another ad hoc unit when the need arose. But obviously this was not as good as having a permanent unit in the area.
And so in October 1978 General Constand Viljoen appointed the first commander of a permanent mechanised conventional warfare unit in the operational area: Commandant Johann “Dippies” Dippenaar. The unit, known as 61 Mechanised Battalion Group, came into being on 1 January 1979, and consisted of two mechanised infantry companies in Ratel 20s, an armoured car troop in Eland 90s (later Ratel 90s) seconded from 1 Special Service Battalion (1 SSB) in Bloemfontein, a 140-mm G-2 battery from 4 Artillery Field Regiment, a support company and a combat engineer troop from 16 Maintenance Unit. In later years, a tank squadron would also be added. The unit was established at a somewhat remote area in Ovamboland, Omuthiya, where the members could shoot, move and exercise to their hearts’ content.[76]
Clearly, 61 Mech was a new kind of unit. Instead of the orthodox infantry battalions or armoured/artillery regiments being brought together only on a divisional level, here was an all-arms unit on battalion/regimental level. The unit would have its baptism of fire in June 1980 with Operation Sceptic, and would thereafter be part of every single large cross-border operation until the end of the war. It would also become the template for other similar units – 2 SAI, 4 SAI and 8 SAI – which, in spite of the word “infantry” in their names, could also be classified as mechanised.
Strategically, Reindeer’s results were mixed. On the propaganda front, it was a disaster for South Africa. An SADF analysis found that media reporting during the first week was mainly neutral and factual, but then became negative. This was partly due to the fact that South Africa allowed SWAPO and Angola to capture the propaganda high ground by speaking to the media first and announcing that Cassinga was a refugee camp. From there onward, the South Africans continually tried to close the stable door after the horse had bolted. The analysis recommended: “WE MUST SPEAK FIRST. Luanda’s first words to the world was that we had attacked a refugee camp. This is the version that was generally accepted by the foreign media.”[77] The fact that the movement, objectively speaking, disseminated mainly outright lies and distortions about Cassinga, does not diminish the propaganda feat and the political mileage they extracted from it. SWAPO milked the affair and capitalised on the photographs of the mass graves for years. Throughout the war, SWAPO was light years ahead of the leaden-footed South Africans in terms of propaganda.
This was exacerbated by political developments on an international front. The actions of the South African government were condemned by just about everybody, including the main Western countries. Sam Nujoma, who was in New York for the UN Security Council debate on Namibia, withdrew from all talks and returned to Lusaka, no doubt delighted by the propaganda victory so unexpectedly handed to him.[78]
Nevertheless, Operation Reindeer as a whole was a strategic turning point in the Border War. As Constand Viljoen said, it was Reindeer “which determined the South African military strategy for the next decade: the concept of pre-emptive strikes”.[79] The military and the political leaders saw that SWAPO had been dealt a hammer blow and that the concept was strategically and operationally sound. From the South African perspective, the world huffed and puffed, but could not blow South Africa over. And therefore, in Chester Crocker’s words, “Angola became the centrepiece of the SADF’s anti-SWAPO strategy in the Namibian bush war . . .”[80]
Was Reindeer worth it? The answer will, no doubt, depend on your point of view. On the one hand, it can be reasoned that South Africa squandered a chance for peace, and that the result was a very difficult ten years of war, which brought enormous suffering and hardship. On the other, SWAPO’s commitment (see Chapter 10) to democracy was extremely doubtful, to put it mildly. It can be said that, by prolonging the war over another decade, the SADF bought time for a better and more durable peace to ripen.
What cannot be denied, in any case, is that the South African government in May 1978 was not yet ready to accept the possibility of free and fair elections under UN supervision, which could bring a SWAPO government to power in Windhoek. As PW Botha wanted, the military option was not yet played out – not by a long chalk. Much more blood and tears would flow in the coming years.
