CHAPTER 27 SELOUS SCOUT MISSION TO RESCUE A SPY iN ZAMBIA

 It was an interesting trip. The pilots had to negotiate that very fine line - fly too close to the ground and we could easily get tangled in unmarked power lines or something more solid, like a rock - fly too high and something with a big bang attached to it could crash into us. As I said… it was interesting.

It happened towards the end of 1978.  I received an unusual top secret air task in which I was ordered to fly to Inkomo Air Strip to receive a briefing from the CO of the Selous Scouts, Lt.Col. Ron Reid Daly. I was given the very bare minimum of information - it was for a static line drop and we were to take 20 parachutes with us. We very rarely landed at this particular air-strip late in the afternoon, and we never took off from it after dark, not that the Dakota couldn’t handle it. It was just unusual.

 Two other PJIs and I boarded the Dakota, and the Skipper Bob d’Hotman asked if we knew what was going on. I had no idea. It was a Selous Scout mission and everything regarding the Scouts was Top Secret. We were all used to this at this stage in the Bush War. Still, I can’t say we weren’t curious.

On arrival, the two pilots and I were taken into the Scouts’ briefing room and drip-fed a little more information. We were to fly, that night, and drop 14 Selous Scouts onto a DZ, selected as per the usual Pathfinder method, near the Zambian capital, Lusaka. Okay, so far, so good and so apparently straight-forward. However, as usual, especially when dealing with the Selous Scouts, there was a “but”. A pretty big but!
The British had provided the Zambians with Rapier anti-aircraft missiles a number of years earlier, and we were afraid, that by this time, the Zambians may have learned how to work them. We had to fly in low to get beneath Lusaka radar, but high enough to avoid other obstacles. Only after we made contact with the DZ PF group could we climb up to 500 feet and drop the troops. As remarked earlier, flying between low-lying hazards and things that go bang, made for a very interesting trip.

After dropping the Scouts we were to fly down the main street of Lusaka and drop leaflets explaining our mission - we were not attacking Zambian civilians, only the terrorists. After dropping the leaflets, the task called for us to similarly fly over and paper Kafue, Mazabuka, Monze, Pemba, Choma, Kalomo and Livingstone.

 If for some reason we could not make contact with the PF team in Lusaka to talk us in for the drop, we were to orbit the area a couple of times, then drop the leaflets, and return home. We were forbidden to discuss this operation with anybody.  Not even the PJIs who were an integral part of the crew were to be informed. As far as I was concerned, this was a step too far, the ‘need-to-know” should surely extend to those actively involved; I told my men what we were doing and advised them it was absolutely top secret.

At about 10pm that night we took off from Inkomo on a kerosene-lit runway and headed north, staying low. The approaching Zambezi escarpment presented a problem – if we stayed low as we flew into Zambian airspace, we would have to climb up the escarpment on the other side, a risky prospect. We chose the alternative option, maintaining our low-level altitude and hoping the Lusaka radar operators were asleep. When we were about 10 minutes from the DZ, we stood the stick of troops up and went through the equipment checks.

 We waited for somebody on the ground to talk to us. Nothing happened, and Bob asked what we should do. I ordered him to climb up a bit and do a wider orbit, in case we were not quite in the correct spot. Around we went again, and again there was no call from the ground. “OK,” I said, “Bugger this. Go to Plan B.” The Skipper, Bob, completed the orbit and headed for Lusaka.

 The trouble with tossing loose bits of paper out the open door of a Dakota is they tend to blow back in. We learned the hard way. Unless the pamphlets were thrown well outside and past the rear edge of the door, there was a paper storm inside the cabin. On this occasion, the bundles of pamphlets were nicely tied with very strong twine, which was nearly impossible to break by hand and, in the dark, practically Gordian to untie. Fortunately, I am one of those people who never goes anywhere without a pocket knife and it was used to cut the twine. (Editor’s note: this trusty pen-knife was/is used for every purpose from lancing boils to gutting fish and he wonders why we won’t accept apple slices offered from its blade!)

 The Skipper flew around the outskirts of Lusaka, and across the centre of the city from north to south, towards Rhodesia and home. As we flew across the bright lights at a very low altitude, we grabbed handfuls of pamphlets and released them into the slipstream. At one stage, I accidentally grabbed a whole bundle which was still tied and dropped it out. This bundle was later found in the middle of the main street, and cordoned off by police who thought it was an unexploded device. The twine was really strong.

 Having completed the pamphlet drop over Lusaka we headed for the small village of Kafue and did it again and, again, nobody took a shot at us. The next place to get a paper shower was Mazabuka, followed by Monze, as we flew down the railway line towards Livingstone.

 It was about then we realised the opposition, had possibly observed our low-flying Dakota following the train line from town to town, and had possibly noticed the pattern. Hmm they could decide to interrupt our paper delivery. Having no desire to fly into an ambush we headed for home. In a hurry. We made up an excuse, on the fly, for not completing the pamphlet drops, something about running low on petrol. We felt pretty sure the residents of these towns would get the news from elsewhere. It was truly wonderful to see the waters of the mighty Lake Kariba pass under us, the glow of Salisbury ahead of us and to fly home at a safer altitude.

 After landing at Salisbury, the Selous Scouts were whisked away in a truck, while the two PJIs and I stepped into the PTS hangar and had a cup of tea. It was a waste of time going home as we had the usual early morning Static Line and Free Fall courses. We were told that the sortie we just made did not exist. It never happened and no reference was to be made of it again.

But more than 39 years have passed, so I will spill the beans or at least the beans as I understand them. We’d been sent to drop a stick of troops onto a DZ, selected by a Selous Scout officer by the name of Broadman. We all knew this guy as Flight Lieutenant Michael Borlace. He’d been in Zambia to do reconnaissance for a planned attack on Joshua Nkomo. The Rhodesians were very keen to assassinate Nkomo, not only to disrupt the leadership of ZIPRA (the armed wing of ZAPU), but in revenge for the shooting down of a civilian aircraft, Air Rhodesia Flight 825. Nkomo accepted responsibility for this terrorist attack and we were determined to kill the fat bastard.
Unfortunately, Michael Borlace/Boardman was discovered and ours was a mission to rescue him. He was captured before we could do so, which is why there was no ground communication and the operation was called off. At the time I knew none of this – and even now the ‘facts’ are difficult to pin down – this is only my best guess.   

One thing not in dispute is Michael Borlace himself. He was a true warrior - an Alouette Helicopter pilot in No.7 Sqn, and a Selous Scout,  he was awarded the Silver Cross of Rhodesia for valour – twice. He was the only person to receive this coveted award twice. The reason he did not call that night was because he had been arrested, tortured and imprisoned by the Zambian Police Special Branch for spying. He was later released by a Zambian judge because he’d been badly tortured. He was set free and deported after Zimbabwean Independence and I happened to bump into him sipping on a beer at Lake Kariba. Cheers!

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