The team move towards the ramp and prepare for the HAHO (high altitude high opening) jump. It is bitterly cold. At 10 668 m the temperature is around -54 degrees Celsius, depending on the atmospheric conditions. All the operators can see is the black void in which not even fires on the ground are visible. Despite the freezing cold, the men are dripping with sweat under their specially designed suits because of all of the adrenaline.
Then it is P-hour, the moment that the first jumper has to exit the aircraft. The green light flashes and the Recces dive out of the plane into the dark unknown. After about three seconds the parachutes are opened, and the team form up in a stack to stay together in the air. It is quiet, each jumper hears only the sound of his chute’s stabilisers flapping in the wind. The other chutes are faintly visible. The long descent to the landing zone has started.
It is always unbearably cold during a HAHO jump; hands and feet feel as if they have turned into blocks of ice. The team leader navigates his team with his GPS towards a landing zone that may be as far as 20 km from the jump area.
At an altitude of about 3 660 m above the ground the men uncouple their oxygen masks on the one side and lift the freefall goggles as they try to see the ground. The terrain gradually becomes more visible. When the ground finally comes into view, they look for a suitable landing zone. It is hard to accurately determine the wind direction, but this aspect is vital in ensuring a safe landing with the heavily laden backpacks and weapons.
Just before landing the jumpers turn their parachutes against the wind in an attempt to make a soft landing. Trees, stones, rocks and other objects pose the biggest danger. The team members also have to land as close to each other as possible. Suddenly the earth is approaching fast, and it feels as if it is rushing up to meet the jumper. As he hits the ground, his cold-numbed feet and legs do not really feel the impact of the landing.
After a brief wait they roll up the parachutes and carry them some distance away to be stashed, usually inside an old aardvark hole. If the chutes are not going to be recovered, they first cut them up quickly. In the dark the team now move to a predesignated lying-up position from where they will observe the previous night’s drop zone throughout the day. In particular, they watch out for movements that may indicate whether the enemy has caught wind of their presence.
In the case of a reconnaissance operation, one of the two operators would remain behind under cover fairly close to the target. The other, dressed in very light clothing and armed with only a silenced pistol, would approach the target painstakingly slowly to conduct the close-in recce. This is an extremely dangerous phase of the operation that is essential for gathering detailed information. On completion of the recce, the team would move stealthily under the cover of night to a predesignated landing zone.
According to schedule they switch on the VHF ground-to-air radio, although no talking will be done. At a given moment, the team leader flashes a code with his infrared torch in the dark in the direction of the approaching helicopter. As soon as the pilot identifies the team’s code, he would say the word ‘visual’ only once over the radio and then land. With the team on board, the helicopter would fly back in the dark at treetop level to the 1 Recce base somewhere in the operational area.
Intense tension usually reigned in the last few hours before an operation began. But as soon as the Recce operator landed in enemy territory, whether by parachute or helicopter, a great calmness set in. The moment his feet touched the ground, he got an almost euphoric feeling of being in total control.
Another thing no Recce operator will ever forget is the absolute stillness in the bush moments before the start of an attack. It was as if time stood still and the birds, the animals and even the plants were holding their breath in anticipation of something terrible that was about to happen. This stillness is reminiscent of the silence that hung around you as soon as your parachute unfolded when you were jumping in an operation.
Likewise, the smell of helicopter fuel during startup stays in your memory. The men who worked on submarines, again, will never forget the distinctive submarine smell. It is a fusty mixture of odours – diesel, engine, grease, sweat and kitchen – that would seep into your clothes and skin if you had spent long periods on board.
Even years after he had left the unit the Recce operator would still remain conditioned not to talk loudly when entering a bushy area. And it disturbs him when others do so – to him, a forest or thicket will always be the place where hand signals replace voices, and where you only communicate in whispers in extreme cases.
The Recces were highly adaptable to working in a variety of conditions, and were also employed in pseudo operations where they took on the guise of the enemy. They would wear the enemy’s clothing and carry their weapons, and talk, walk, eat and think like the enemy. In the process they would become the enemy, physically as well as psychologically.
These operations were more difficult to control, and sometimes friendly forces would exchange fire because one had mistaken the other for the enemy. As a preventative measure, the entire area in which they were due to operate would usually be ‘frozen’, which meant that no one else was allowed to enter it.
A typical pseudo operation could for instance be conducted by two (or more) men. The team usually consisted of a South African leader and a former enemy member who had ‘turned’ and now operated with him against his erstwhile comrades. During infiltration, this team member would walk in front of the team leader so that he could immediately strike up a conversation if they bumped into unexpected elements.
The technique of ‘turning’ an enemy combatant originated with the Selous Scouts in the then Rhodesia. The Rhodesians might have adopted it from the British who had used and developed this concept against the Mau Mau in Kenya. One method was to tell captured soldiers after interrogation that their comrades would be informed that they had cooperated with their captors and disclosed details of secret structures. The fear of reprisal was generally a sufficient deterrent to prevent them from rejoining their own forces.
Access routes to the target would be reconnoitred as well as escape routes, the best direction of attack, and the time and distance between the target and the drop-off point or lying-up position, where the operators lay concealed during the day. They would always make sure that alternative lying-up positions were available.
These positions were usually in thick bush, but not on prominent high ground or terrain where the enemy might deploy their own observation posts. Operators had to be able to camouflage themselves there while at the same time having a good view of their access route. Once they had identified a suitable spot, the team would first move past it and then return in a roundabout way to occupy the lying-up position.
Great emphasis was placed on anti-tracking, and once the position had been occupied, there would be no further movement. Everyone lay in silence, listening and observing. This phase would be nerve-racking for two-men reconnaissance teams in particular. Good camouflage and absolute silence were cardinal. An operator would lie on his back, wearing combat gear (chest rig and magazines) and with his firearm at the ready against his body. Once he was in a prone position, he would cover his body with branches, grass, leaves and soil to camouflage himself.
Members of the local population who came to gather firewood or just wandered around were always a big problem. Also goats, with their odd habit of staring unceasingly at something strange in the veld, could draw unwanted attention to the group. Then there was the ever-present danger of dogs that came sniffing about – for this eventuality, a .22 or .32 silenced pistol was kept on hand. If a dog smelt or discovered them it would be shot soundlessly, after which the operator would cautiously rise from his position and drag the dead animal to a concealed position under bushes. No other movement was allowed in the hide – no one was allowed to eat, make coffee or even take a toilet break. Everyone would lie motionless, waiting for the night to finally welcome them like an old friend.
In the early 1980s, the South African battlefront started changing; the focus now began to fall not only on the bush but also on urban environments, and urban warfare came into play. Inspired by the Israeli