Episode 60 – Tsumeb farmers suffer repeated blows as SWAPOs Operation Typhoon sows destruction in the Triangle of Death

Welcome back to South African Border Wars with me, your host, Death's Lathan. This is episode 60. I'm going to apologise this episode has arrived a little late. The other part of my world, I'm afraid, took precedence this week. So we left off last episode with Swapu's Operation Typhoon underway inside the triangle of Death's area between Tumib, Otavi and Khrutfantane. 42 members of this operation had been hidden at the offensive jhana and taken out a rattle. Three were killed by aloeite gunships and the follow-up action but the others got away. Heading northwards to the safety of Angoda. 11 members of the security forces were already dead, about a dozen others injured. This was not a normal Swapu assault on the farming area. It was a concerted and well-planned operation the tactics had changed. There were still 105 other Swapu guerrillas on the move in the triangle or nearby and 61 mech-trackers were trying to pick up their trail before they did even more damage. Joining them were vengeful group of farmers from the triangle, including the man we met last week, Karl Fu Titsak and others that writer Dean Lumprecht describes as the "fach nende bura fun Tumib", the fighting farmers of Tumib. Others were Dave Keiser and Reinhard Friedrich and in her farmhouse at Kudu's Flay, Tanti Pompey from the best days and his husband Dainky had died during the events at Shana ambush. At 61 mech HQ, Roland de Fliis was determined to stop Swapu and headed to Tumib Eradrom two days after the ambush to meet reinforcements being flown in. Captain Jan Malan and his alpha company were back in the field. You can say it's a bit like falling off a horse. His company had seen the rattle destroyed their men killed but he and his men had to get back on their horses immediately, no sitting around at 61 mech HQ at Censibus, drowning their sorrows. Swapu wasn't hanging around either. Two days after their successful ambush, they shot and killed a farm worker just north of Censibus, toying with security forces. Here we are, they seem to be saying "come and get us". Then a short while later, Ravelman, JDG, Dutui died in a contact with Swapu in the same area. It was only a matter of time before Swapu would be spotted. Hundreds of SEDF and SWATIF troops were sweeping the triangle, while allure'd gunships, pumors and bosco planes flew constantly focusing on the water points, the wet chanas. While Swapu obviously had the initiative, the South Africans were piling on the pressure, tactically they were trying to push the guerrillas out into the open. Eventually in the 17th of April 1982 and three days after the ambush at Defensashana, Swapu's distinctive chevron, patent brute prints were discovered. The sand trackers and the farmers joined 61 Mek units as they hurried along the fresh trail of Russian-made boots. But they weren't going to be in time. The next day, the 18th of April, 67-year-old Sumip farmer Louis-Foury was preparing to head to town from his farm called the Raimtah. The Foury clan had found the Raimtah their space, but now it was also a threat. He was isolated, although Louis-Foury was being protected by a single national serviceman by the name of Corporal Hercules Bester, who hailed from Grahamstern. Now the youngster was thousands of kilometres away from home and in a deadly situation. For re-enew that Swapu were around, you just didn't know how close. Back in Sumip, another long-term farmer in the region by the name of Dave Kaiser was meeting with S.A.D. of top brass who had flown in after the disaster at Defensashana. Sitting alongside of a 61 Mek II I.C. taste royal, he had just returned from picking up the bodies from the Rathal 12 Alpha, working alongside two medics. There were being breathed by the farmer, Kaiser, who was an extremely fit 52-year-old and was rumoured you could addrun most of the Troopies of his age, trotting non-stop through the sandy bush with his automatic rifle at the ready. Meanwhile, Corporal Bester had climbed into the 4x4 being driven by Wim-Foury on the farm Raimtah, north west of Sumip. They were both armed, the S.A.D. of Troop carrying his webbing in spare magazines dressed in his uniform. But they didn't know, was that a Swapu stick of around four was between the farmhouse protective double fence and the workers' houses. Forri's wife Sinky was in the farmhouse sitting near the radio when he left. As the Bucky travelled into an area of thicker bush just past the gate, Swapu's stick lying on both sides of the road opened up with AK-47s. Forri and Bester didn't have a chance, the farmer died instantly as the Corporal fired back but that lasted only a few seconds. In the farmhouse, Sinky Forri shouted to her daughters to settle for the alarm, which would alert Sumip as they heard the AK's firing. Then she stumbled out the front door and ran to the fence armed with her G3 automatic rifle and began firing blindly through the bush in the direction of the track. By now, she must have realized as there was little chance for Louis and the Corporal, his R4 had fired for only a second and was then still. In Sumip, Dave Kaser and 61-Mex2RC Taseral could hear the voice of Sinky's daughter on the radio. They also heard the G3 automatic rifle going off in the background. They couldn't hear the AK's. Sinky banied, spotted Swapu in the bush but they were moving away from her as she continued firing. Then Kaser and the Rall heard the sound of the G3 trigger being pulled. Sinky was out of ammunition but she quickly changed magazines and opened fire again. The Swapu fighters janked for he and best his bodies from the Bucky, then drove off at high speed away from the women with the G3's spraying rounds through the bush. There was little that the SID of officers listening back at Sumip could do, and other two dead and Swapu were still on the move. At least the women in the Ramta farmhouse were no danger now, they had harried the stick away from the security fence. Commandant Dorola and Tafris was feeling the pressure. So many civilians dead as well as his own men and no real success yet against the insurgents. Then came the radio call, "Three tours of Diplas Uchiguinis," which was just the other side of Uchigotomiya, about 20 kilometres west of Sumip. Just out of interest, Uchigotomiya means Uchigotolake, and it's the smallest of Namibia's legs formed out of a collapsed limestone cave, looks a little like a quarry that's been filled with rainwater. The pure mud took off with Dave Kaser and their southwest African special operations unit joined by dogs and a parachute section. When they landed near the mini-lake, Kaser was about to point out that they were not on the farm Uchiguinis, but a group of sand then approached him. One had sold oranges to the passing men, then realized there was Swapuya and immediately alerted the authorities. One of the sand men approached Kaser and handed him the money, saying it was dirty. Kids had told him to hand it to the police and asked where the men went. He pointed to a fence, two Swapu soldiers had climbed over the wire and hit it off into the bush. The parabets clamoured over the fence following the trail, but now they were moving very slowly, given what had happened over the past few days, rushing into any possible contact point was plainly stupid. The dogs sniffed the cache, then began following the trail, leading the parabets, a special ops team to a thickly wooded area, and it was then that Kaser realized they were in a classic ambush zone. He saw an orange on the path, for a moment thought the bag was split, but obviously Swapu would have picked it up. Then he saw an empty plastic bottle wedged in the bowels of a tree. "Skata, skata!" He shouted in English, "The Africans were just three, but that doesn't have the same urgency, and their lives dangled in split seconds." What they didn't know, as they approached this point in the path, was that members of the Swapu stick had got behind the trackers, and one was armed with an RPG-7. He fired it at the pumer, which is back in the air, sweeping overhead, but the missile hit a tree over the security force members. Trapnel then showered the men, including Kaser, who was hit in the back. A Casper then burst through the bush, it was Kufut, and one of the farmers by the name of Fun-Billion, who'd swung around as the RPG went off, spotted the Swapu insurgent, and shot him dead. Kaser was wounded, but followed the sand trackers as they moved quickly along the trail, the other Swapu were nearby, they could feel them, but Kaser was bleeding heavily and ordered into the pumer to be Kaser-backed. That's when he looked down at the R1 he was carrying and saw a shrapnel embedded deep in the bacolite stock. When the pumer landed in Sumib, Kaser refused to stretch and walked into the medical tent, where two medics began to pull bits of the exploded missile out of his back with tweezers. He was sown up, and he threw away his blood soaked shirt, and said, "Ex-rach, I'm ready." Everyone agreed, Dave Kaser was as tough as Camille Durung-Bum, camel-thorn tree. He had to be, there were three or four groups of Swapu lurking inside the triangle of death, and another farmer called Reinhart Friedrich was following the trail of one of these groups alongside his sand trackers. Reinhart Friedrich was a platoon of rattles full of national servicemen, watching as the 50-something worm trotted ahead with the sand. As the trail was leading them towards Blatzak Farm, which was a neighbour of Kudu's Flay, 35 kilometres west of Censibis. The German southwester was on a mission, perhaps he was even rushing, and that was a mistake. A second later, Friedrich was lying on his back, and his foot still in its boot was lying next to his head. He tripped to Pomsi, the antibersnal mind, the favourite of insurgents everywhere. It has a pin linked to a line which can be set up across a trail. Swapu had laid it so well that the pin in the line were almost invisible. Trotted Strap. straight through the line, popping the pin, and the mine had exploded instantly sending him the two sand trackers, and shrapnel, flying in all directions. Friedrich said later he didn't hear the explosion, but he was conscious and shattered to the 61 mech soldiers to back off. He knew that other mines would be laid nearby to catch the medics. Lying alongside him was one of the sand trackers who lost his leg in the blast, while a second was also wounded, lying nearby. By some miracle, Friedrich had both feet at the end of both legs, but one leg was so badly broken, it had twisted upwards next to his head. The area was scanned for mines, prodded quickly, then the medics were treating the three. They were all bleeding badly, as they waited for the puma, Friedrich passed out. At roughly the same time, another farmer by the name of Racia Rasmus triggered another mine, and it had been planted by Swapu before the Rital 12 alpha was blown up five days earlier at Fensashana. The carnage seemed to be never ending. A Rasmus had heard about the events and was determined to head back to his farm Falevata, that lays south of 61 mech's base at Sensabus, despite Battalion commander Roland de Fris trying to stop him. But Racia Rasmus wouldn't listen. The mine planted on the main road to Faleplace had been left by members of Swapu's operation typhoon as they swept past and now it acclaimed another victim. Racia's wife worked at 61 mech HQ, this was definitely becoming more and more personal. Rasmus was found unconscious behind the wheel of his 4x4, both his legs were shredded. He was alive and rushed by helicopter to Tumib, but the 57-year-old died on the operating table. The killing wasn't over. Twenty-five kilometres west of Tumib, another farmer called Ball Stain, was rashing along his sandy road from his farm Manos, protected by a national serviceman who was standing on the back. Stain was a sergeant in the local commander and he had been patrolling the region for years. Standing alongside the national serviceman was a sand tracker, both with keeping an eye out for Swapu, or mines, or anything else that was a danger. Suddenly the sand tracker spotted what looked like a mound on the road and hammered the roof of the bucky, but Stain didn't stop. The sand tracker jumped off as the mine exploded, throwing both him and the national serviceman into the air. Miraculously both were only slightly hurt, but Stain had been killed instantly. The mine was a cheese mine, which could blow up a tank. His 4x4 was not mine-proofed and he had no chance. The next day, 19th April, another mine was detonated. This time a two-pre-schooled children north of the Bravo Cutline on the way to the Angolan border at a place called Mangetti. It's here that the harder ground around Sumim changes to white sand, thin and dusty, and the Thornbush and Makalani palms prevail is even harder to spot mines here. Both children died. But Swapu was now beginning to run out of time. The follow-up patrols caught six insurgents only 10 km outside Sumim on the same day and there were no prisoners taken. Five AK-47s, an RPG-7 and its rocket, seven landmines, six hand grenades, and 15 blocks of TNT were taken from their bodies. Shortly afterwards, 18 Swapu fighters were spotted near a farm called Aitsich on the main road to Atavis south of Sumim. Then another 15 others were tracked after they passed through a farm called Khrasflaktha even further south. They had managed to avoid 61 Makalani patrols and were moving quickly. At this point though, most of Swapu's platoons decided to splinter or Khabarmashel as it was known colloquially. They broke up into smaller groups. That was, except for one unit which headed off towards their ironically-named Kumbat Baffa, Rich and Copper as you heard about in earlier podcasts. It was also where General Louis Burtard accepted the surrender of the German forces during World War I and back in 1915. It's a small world and as we know everything in history eventually connects like dots along a continuum. Swapu's specially trained unit used the mountain range Kumbat Baffa as a landmark when they navigated through the triangle of death and as a place to lay up when the heat was on. There was no way or rattle or vehicle could climb the outcrop and tracking anyone up the hard stone was impossible even for the best. Swapu would attack local farms or drop mines, then retreat into the Kumbat Baffa and wait. 61 Mech Intelligence had figured out that a platoon of Swapu fighters were on their way to the mountains and Kumbat Antifreece was trying to cut them off before they reached the strategic point. By now the men and Swapu's platoon heading towards the Kumbat Baffa had been walking over at times running for close to 700 kilometres. They were exhausted and they needed to stop. They were also likely to make mistakes. Being hunted through the Sumer bush for days on end had a psychological effect on them as they paused, trotted, stopped, laid a mine, trotted, walked, ate, trotted, slept, trotted, paused, etc. It was three weeks of moving non-stop and for the last week they thought they'd be shot at every step. This group was heading for the Kumbat Baffa and the Fris was determined they wouldn't make it. So the Fris decided on the nuclear option, so to speak. He ordered the 120-millimeter mortars to bombard the Kumbat Baffa, blowing huge flaming balls into the air, thundering and fires breaking out on the ravines. Flying overhead was an eccentric local farmer who prefers to remain anonymous. His little plane was nicknamed the Tickley Tesla. The bizarre contraption had two AK-47s strapped under each wing with a cable to the cabin. It also cut a hole in the floor and stuck a pop into the hole which meant you could fly the plane with one hand while dropping hand grenades down the park with the other. The single engine Chichi Chichi bang bang flew over the Kumbat range with the farm and an assistant dropping the thunder flashes continuously into the thick wooded ravines. The extreme bombardment, 120-millimeter mortars, automatic fire from the AK-47s on the wing and the thunder flashes going off had their design effect. But that wasn't all. Another psychological warfare effect involved two rattles. They drove around the base of the Kumbat Baffa at night, lighting huge fires which could be seen for miles. It gave the appearance of a major army surrounding the copper-rich area and so the Swapa platoon had to make a decision. The last platoon of Swapa in the Triangle of Death, Habbom Sheld, and in the groups of two, three, and maybe six, made a b-line for the Angolan border. But between them and freedom was 250 kilometers of bush and hundreds of motivated South African soldiers along with sand trackers backed up by angry farmers. But it must be said the psychological effect was cutting both ways. The farmers of Tsumim and the officers of 61 Mech were under extreme duress. Tanti Pompi-Danki found a vestais and wife and radio operator extraordinaire collapsed eventually from the days of stress, lapsing into a coma. She recovered off to treatment to hear the news that Danki, who died in a rattle 12 alpha, had received South Africa's honorisks medal for bravery, posthumously. On May 1st, all Swapa were reported trying to escape North out of the Triangle of Death. Four were killed in that day, their pockets cleared by 61 Mech intelligence, who were trying to make sense of who was involved in this deadly operation. On the 2nd of May, Roland de Fliis took a drive along the farm road, stopping between Sin Sabas and Ushivalu, which lies to the North West. Three kilometres south of the Brava Cutline, a lewet gunships had spotted a group of Swapa, a circled firing continuously, while three pumas with parabbat sections waited. Minutes passed, then came a farm radio warning that two Swapa had been seen on the farm far votted once more. Sixty-one Mech rattles, including de Fliis's code name Zero, arrived, and the two insurgents were beyond exhausted. They lay out in the open, resigned to their fate. One had a shattered arm, the victim of the allied gunships, the uniforms were in tatters. A pumer with medics on board landed, and both retreated, both survived. They were told, when they left by their commander Ashipala, that there would be no treatment, nor are they being treated by their enemy. This is the story of war inside civilian areas. The winter games, as they were known of 1982, had taught the SADF a harsh lesson. As the farmers of Tsumib were tough, it was a limit. This was also the most deadly period for these farmers of the entire border war. Seventy-two Swapu fighters had died out of the 105 that made it into the triangle of death. Sixteen were caught, and believe it or not, all sixteen, according to Deon Lamprecht, ended up fighting for the SADF against Swapu and Fapu. I've explained how professional soldiers act in war, and this is another example. It is perhaps hard to understand how one minute you're shooting at someone who's laid a mind and blown up your brother, and the next, you're managing the very same enemy. But this is tactical. Every turned fighter is a nail in your enemy's coffin, and remember for those who speak purely of revenge, there's that great saying, when you seek revenge, dig two graves. Twenty Pompey eventually sold the family farm at Gudus Flay and went to live in Swacopment, who notes in journals full of memories, but no hate. It's beautiful in Swacopment. The cold sea breeze wafts across the desert. If a spa is a short drive to the south, the June landscape is like the moon. It's a long way from the two-metre Thornfeldt. Dante Bumpy found the best days in diet of organ failure in 1996 after suffering from diabetes for years, her condition worsened by the shock of losing dyke. As characters in our story go, she is one of the most memorable, who staunch and stoic voice ringing out across the airwaves, and surely, her ghost blows across through the Tsumeb Thornbush, when the summit understands blast their power against a combat backer. With that, it's time to haul out the top all-in, hang it tight, light a fire, crack open a tarful logger. Please rate the podcast on iTunes, it helps escalate the visibility of the story. If you have any comments, head over to my website, abworepodcast.com, there's a link to send emails if you want to chat, and you can direct message me if you're in a rush on Twitter @Daisleything. Until next, goodbye.