Saturday Snippet: Sanctions-busting the hard way

 

One of my heroes was Jack Malloch, a World War II Spitfire pilot from Rhodesia who went on to dabble in all sorts of shadowy aviation corners for the next thirty years or more.  He had the reputation of being a "pirate of the air", very much in the mold of Sidney Cotton or Jan Zumbach.  I don't know if they ever met, but I'm sure the three would have recognized kindred spirits in each other, and probably in the buccaneers of the Spanish Main a few centuries earlier.

Jack was involved in sanctions-busting on behalf of Rhodesia and South Africa for many years, and also undertook clandestine flights in support of military and intelligence operations for both countries.  I first met him when he flew a group of people, including yours truly, in a clapped-out old Douglas DC-7 freighter to a place we never were to do something about which we know nothing, if you get my drift.  He was truly a character, and somewhat awe-inspiring in real life to a young wet-behind-the-ears type like myself.  I never knew him well, of course, only in passing:  but I count myself privileged to have met him.

Jack was killed in an air crash in 1982 while test-flying a Spitfire Mk. 22 that he'd restored (one of a squadron's worth that he and others had ferried to Rhodesia from Britain back in the 1950's).  A documentary movie was filmed describing the restoration and the aircraft's first flight, which I've embedded below.  Aviation enthusiasts will enjoy it.

Jack was pretty much unique in my (admittedly limited) experience.  I've never met anyone else quite like him.  I was therefore very pleased to find that a biography had been written about him, published a couple of years ago.  It's titled "Jack Malloch:  Legend of the African Skies".

It was difficult to decide on which excerpt to bring you today.  I settled on some of his military missions during the Rhodesian war, these using very old, worn-out aircraft that no self-respecting airline would have touched with a bargepole.  Nevertheless, he made a success of it, and his efforts helped keep Rhodesia alive for longer than anyone would have expected.

With the upsurge in fighting along all three of Rhodesia’s hostile frontiers, the war was putting a heavy strain on the military. In a move to boost its manpower, in January 1977 it was announced that conscription would be increased by three months and men over the age of thirty-eight needed to register for training and service.

As part of this militarisation Jack, at the age of fifty-seven was called up as a reservist to the Rhodesian Air Force. He was given the rank of Flight Lieutenant and was seconded to Number Three (Transport) Squadron. Although the authority and respect he was given far exceeded his lowly ‘official’ rank. Jack quickly realised that the Air Force, which were limited to a collection of old Second World War-vintage Dakotas, had a critical need for larger transport aircraft. As he now had the CL-44, Jack offered to loan one of his old DC-7s to the Air Force. This arrangement became more or less permanent from early April 1977.

On these military missions the DC-7 was given the Air Force registration number 7230. Interestingly it was also given a South African Defence Force registration number, TLT 907, for exclusively South African military missions. On these assignments Jack would usually fly with George Alexander who was the Commanding Officer of Number Three Squadron.

To begin with much of this flying was shuttling planeloads of Rhodesian soldiers down to Bloemfontein in South Africa to undertake parachute training as Rhodesia focused on building up its airborne assault capability. With these crack paratroops Rhodesia began to make ever larger and more ambitious raids into neighbouring countries to cripple the insurgents’ training, and supply facilities. But with this strategy economies of scale started to came into play and the Air Force needed to be able to deploy an ever higher volume of paratroopers. But in the face of modern anti-aircraft weapons, the slow DC-3s were just no longer sufficient.

Jack wondered if the DC-7 could be up for the job. The first challenge was that the DC-7 manufacturer categorically stated that the aircraft was impossible to fly with the side door open which would be a necessity for parachutists. But Jack wasn’t too concerned about operating regulations. He had the door removed and took the aircraft for a test flight. It was certainly more challenging to fly, but it wasn’t long before he got used to the handling.

Next, he needed some particularly brave soldiers to try jumping out of the DC-7 to see what would happen. There were some terrifying learnings to begin with as Charlie Buchan recalls, “With the DC-3 we jumped using a roof cable, but with the DC-7 the parachutes flipped round the edge of the wing and caught the tail piece, so we moved the cable from the roof to the floor. The first time we used the floor cable we got the full blast of the engines up our arses as we came out. We then ran the cable down to the corner of the doorway with a longer static line so that the parachute opened well beneath the tail.”

This was reiterated by one of the Parachute Jumping Instructors who later recalled, “The door was huge compared with the Dak. Drop speed for the Dak was ninety-five knots but the DC-7 would run in at about one hundred and fifteen knots. When we jumped we really felt the blast. Exit position had to be good or you would finish up turning in the slipstream which would cause twisting of the rigging lines during the parachute deployment. This meant wasted time kicking out the twists on the way down, and you had little enough time anyway from the operational drop height of just five hundred feet.”

Once these issues had been resolved a training exercise involving a planeload of sixty SAS commandos was organised. After ten run-ins dropping six men at a time the door dispatchers were well versed in how to work within the cargo-configured interior and confirmed they were ready for combat. Jack now just needed an actual operation to test the concept under real battlefield conditions.

Then, suddenly the war became very personal for Jack and the Malloch family.

In June 1977 Blythe’s eldest son Dave Kruger was killed along with three other young soldiers when their vehicle hit a landmine in the Binga area. He had been serving with 3 Independent Company of the Rhodesian Regiment. It was the second child that Blythe and Ted had lost so tragically. Then in early August urban terrorism hit Salisbury when a bomb exploded in Woolworth’s department store. There were almost one hundred casualties, mostly women and children. With the death of his nephew and the blast in the heart of Salisbury’s shopping centre, Jack realised that they were all now on the frontline. Although he was never one for revenge, after this Jack took a much darker view of the war and the need to not just defend themselves, but to start really fighting back.

. . .

With the success of his parachuting experiment, a couple of the military planners asked Jack for his opinion on an ambitious plan they were working on. The challenge was that once communist terrorists had infiltrated into the country they spread death and destruction and had to be hunted down individually. It was a classic ‘war of attrition’ tactic that was grinding down Rhodesia’s military resources. Just to sustain themselves Rhodesia needed to maintain a kill ratio of ten to one, but this was difficult. Rhodesia needed to cut the insurgents off at their source where they were concentrated and vulnerable.

The two largest Zanla training and ‘staging’ camps in Mozambique were Chimoio, ninety kilometres inside Mozambique and Tembue, which was another one hundred kilometres beyond it. These distances made an attack almost impossible and from the outset the decision-makers at Combined Operations rejected the idea as being far too risky. But Jack strongly believed in the SAS slogan ‘who dares wins’ and, along with the planning committee felt that with the right deployment of their air assets and a good dose of courage, a successful raid could be made. The distance and audacity of the plan also meant that neither Zanla nor Frelimo, Mozambique’s national army, would seriously expect an attack so far from Rhodesia’s border. As a result the enemy forces were concentrated in a very tempting target zone.

Eventually, after numerous persuasive presentations the operational plans for both Chimoio and Tembue were finally approved. Jack’s role in this was pivotal and according to one of the planners, “…without Jack’s personal interest and participation Operation Dingo could not have been undertaken. He was a key player.” This is high praise indeed considering the attack on Chimoio and Tembue would end up being one of the most successful cross-border raids of not just the Rhodesian War, but, of any war.

By late October 1977 intelligence reports estimated that the number of fighters at Chimoio had risen to eleven thousand with another four thousand at Tembue. This was five times the number of CTs (communist terrorists) already operating within Rhodesia. If this army of eager insurgents were all to make it across the border there was a real likelihood that the onslaught would overwhelm the country. Jack started work on the intricate logistics and started stockpiling extra munitions. The bombs, missiles and rockets for the air force were brought up from South Africa in the DC-8. These flights were off-loaded at the bottom of the runway by a small team of trusted senior ground staff and taken directly into New Sarum via the ‘bottom gate’ far away from prying eyes.

The attack had to be made quickly – and before the start of the summer rains as low cloud or stormy weather would compromise visibility and potentially ground the aircraft. Due to sanctions, Rhodesia didn’t have access to satellite imagery of the regional weather patterns. These images were beamed down to the Intelsat receiver in Europe and was then transmitted to a network of official receiver stations. Someone in Salisbury, using his own home-made equipment, was able to access this coded signal and download the images, dramatically enhancing the ability of the planners to predict the weather. How Rhodesia was able to pull off this early hacking back in 1977 is unknown, but desperation certainly led to innovation.

. . .

While Jack’s attention was being divided between the war and the commercial needs of the business, the Rhodesian Special Air Service were having remarkable success in the northern Tete Province of Mozambique. In light of this, Rhodesia’s military planners decided to redeploy them into the volatile southern Gaza Province, where, according to US Intelligence, Zanla were being trained by more than a thousand Cuban, Soviet and East German military advisors. This accounted for the area having been given the nickname, ‘The Russian Front’. The challenge was getting the special forces into the area. It was exactly the type of mission Jack had been waiting for. He suggested a free-fall HALO drop out of the doorless DC-7.

Once again there were reservations. It would be the biggest free-fall operation that the Rhodesians had attempted and just being able to find the right location for the drop was deemed to be almost impossible. That was Jack’s role. He had to find the Landing Zone and drop twenty-four men and their heavy equipment in exactly the right spot deep over enemy territory at the dead of night with no moon. Jack, who had an incredible intuition when it came to flying, knew he could do it. At three o’clock in the morning of October 11th, 1977 the twelve-thousand-foot jump was made. The men landed within a few kilometres of the LZ which was described as “an incredible achievement on the part of the pilot.” The undercover SAS teams remained in the Russian Front, effectively harassing the enemy until the end of the war. According to Kevin Milligan who was on most of these dangerous parachute deployments, “all the times I worked with Jack I found him to be a terrific character and a privilege to work with. The more challenging the mission, the more he seemed to enjoy it!”

. . .

With the success of his first SAS mission the commanders started taking Jack’s plans for Operation Dingo more seriously. To inflict the maximum number of casualties the Rhodesians wanted to strike the main training camp when all the recruits were lined up on the parade-ground. But the high-pitched whine of the approaching jets would compromise the element of surprise. They needed something to mask the sound. Jack suggested a slight change to the DC-8’s incoming flight path, timing it to overfly the camp just a few minutes before the strafing jets were scheduled to hit. Over time the residents in the camp “had become accustomed to the sound of the high-flying aircraft because this had been going on for weeks. All homeward bound Air Trans Africa flights had been specifically routed over the Chimoio base in a deliberate move to lull its inhabitants into accepting the sound as routine.”

The eventual attack was launched early on November 23rd, 1977. It involved almost every single Air Force aircraft, and almost every single member of the elite Special Air Service, along with almost one hundred hand-picked Rhodesian Light Infantry soldiers. Soon after midnight the helicopters began to assemble. The coordinated attack was due to start at seven minutes past eight, five minutes after Jack’s DC-8, to give time for the soldiers to reform in their tightly packed parade ground standing order. At about quarter past seven the massed armada of helicopters, weighted down with shock-troops and extra ammunition, took off. They crossed the border and headed down into the Mozambican plain via a steep-sided river valley.

According to one of the men, “All the helicopters descended to the low ground, initially over abandoned Portuguese farmlands, for the run to target. With helicopters all around and flying low over exquisite countryside, it was hard to fully comprehend that all hell was about to break loose. Halfway to target I saw the DC-7 cruise past on our port side looking quite splendid against the African background. Almost immediately it turned to commence orbits behind the formation of helicopters.”

Meanwhile, “The idea of using one noise to cover another worked perfectly. The Zanla men were taking up their places on the parade ground as the Hunters dropped down to release their golf bombs and the Canberras came in fast and low with their Alpha bombs. The helicopter gunships arrived on the scene just as this first wave of attack aircraft had gone through the target.” Seconds after the first wave of strikes the Hunters and old Vampire jets followed behind the Canberras attacking with their front-guns, rockets and frantan [napalm], devastating buildings as the circling helicopter gunships raked the kill zone.

According to Group Captain Peter Petter-Bowyer, “We did not see the air strikes going in southeast of us but landed to prepare to receive the DC-7 drops. The rotors had not yet stopped turning when I spotted the big aircraft already running in from the east. It was two minutes too early, yet the Admin Base protection troops were already peeling out of the huge cargo door before I had chance to call Squadron Leader George Alexander, who was flying second pilot for Captain Jack Malloch. The DC-7 lumbered past and rolled into a slow starboard turn to re-position for its second drop being the fuel drums and palettes of ammunition. On the ground and out of sight five hundred metres away, the troops were gathering up their parachutes.”

Meanwhile the first jets, refueled and rearmed, returned to start taking on the growing list of targets. At times there were as many as four targets lined up for near-simultaneous attention and the whole area was rocked by continual bomb blasts, cannon and anti-aircraft gunfire. The attack went on for a full eight hours.

By the end of it even the Rhodesians themselves could hardly comprehend the extent of their victory. By the Zanla High Command’s own admission, for the two Rhodesian soldiers killed in the attack the final kill ratio was one thousand to one, while the ratio of injured was about seven hundred to one. For the loss of just one Vampire jet, the devastating attack established the Rhodesian’s reputation of near invincibility on the battlefield. With this success, over the next two and a half years thirty more cross-border raids were made by the Rhodesians as they desperately tried to hold back the swelling tide of invasion.

But Jack’s role was not over. Twenty-four hours later, after quick repairs to their battle-damaged aircraft, the Rhodesians struck Tembue, codenamed ‘Zulu 2’ this time two hundred kilometres into enemy territory. During this phase of the attack soldiers were dropped from Jack’s DC-7 and retrieved by the Air Force helicopters. But they were right at the limit of the helicopters’ range and several couldn’t make it home so had to land wherever they could. One ran out of fuel while trying to cross the expanse of Lake Cahora Bassa and landed on a small remote island. Jack was back in the air an hour before first light the next morning. He dropped sixteen more RLI paratroopers to defend some of the scattered helicopters and dropped drums of fuel down to the helicopter that was stranded in the middle of the Mozambican lake.

Through this action Jack had firmly established his reputation as not just a fearless combat pilot, but also as a remarkable military tactician. He was now firmly entrenched into the military establishment, as Nick Meikle so eloquently describes, “ATA was at the forefront of Rhodesian sanctions-busting activities. Even though it was essentially a civilian airline, it displayed a military efficiency in the performance of a strategic role enacted with sublime tactical flexibility. It was rather like Rhodesia’s Strategic Air Transport Command.”

For these clandestine missions Jack’s ground-crews would repaint the DC-7 in dark olive green and black camouflage. “We painted the DC-7 with ordinary black-board paint, and it quite unexpectedly turned out to be excellent for anti-strela.” As they had to use large industrial brooms as brushes, the efforts were very rudimentary. Yet they always ensured that the first big black patch just behind the cockpit was in the distinctive shape of the local dark brown ‘dumpie’ beer-bottle.

. . .

At the end of July the Rhodesians launched another attack against Zanla’s Tembue base in northern Mozambique which had been rebuilt after the devastating attacks of Operation Dingo a year earlier. This attack involved both Jack and his nephew Mike Kruger. Mike was piloting his Alouette III helicopter, attacking targets and deploying ground troops, while Jack was captaining the DC-7, flying in fuel and supplies. The battle had included not just Zanla, but a large contingent of Frelimo soldiers who joined the fray firing a steady barrage of RPG-7 and Strela warheads at whatever aircraft they could see.

Those heat-seeking missiles were particularly dangerous for Jack’s big slow DC-7 which was certainly not designed for war. According to Group Captain Peter Petter-Bowyer who was the Admin Base Commander coordinating the attack, “What horrified everyone each time the DC-7 passed two hundred feet above us was the bright flaming of its ringed exhaust system that could not possibly be missed by a Strela in the fast-fading light.”

. . .

In late 1978 [Jack] had another challenging ‘live’ consignment – a huge pack of Irish foxhounds which the Selous Scouts wanted to try out for tracking terrorists. According to the Scout’s commanding officer, “I had a vet and he had connections in Ireland so Special Branch gave him a forged passport and off he went to find us some dogs. In the end he got seventy-six, all for free. The Irish donated them to us. Of course, it was Jack Malloch who flew them back for us in the back of his DC-8.”

. . .

In addition to developing an alternate source for weapons imports through the Comoros and securing a haul of critical fighter and bomber parts out of the Middle East, Jack had also become very involved in fighting the war itself. He personally participated in cross-border raids and had become a highly respected military strategist who, from late 1977, was involved in many of the High Command’s most audacious plans and proposals. In recognition of this in mid-September Jack was informed that he had earned the Independence Commemorative Decoration ‘for rendering valuable service to Rhodesia.’ Less than a month later he was recommended to become a Commander of the Order of the Legion of Merit. Although Jack appreciated these awards he was completely distracted by the next big cross-border raid that was being planned.

It was Operation Gatling and it was launched on the morning of October 19th, 1978 with simultaneous attacks against three large ZIPRA terrorist training camps in Zambia. This raid was a reprisal for the downing of the civilian Viscount six weeks earlier. Every single member of the Special Air Service took part, as did Jack’s nephew Mike Kruger, several members of Affretair’s flying crew, including Captain Chris Dixon who gained international fame as ‘Green Leader,’ and of course Jack himself who was at the controls of the DC-7 deploying special forces. As two of the three camps were within just twelve miles of the centre of the Zambian capital, the Rhodesians were worried that the Zambian Air Force, who now also had MiGs, would intercede. To make sure this didn’t happen ‘Green Leader’ in a fully loaded Canberra bomber circled the main control tower at Lusaka airport, thus commandeering Zambian air space for the duration of the battle.

By the time Jack got back from his four-hour trip to Lusaka and back, news of the attack was breaking. He quickly changed into his ‘civvies’ in preparation for the inevitable visitors. As Nori Mann explained, “To illustrate just how much of a hub we had become in the military circles, when the aircraft landed at New Sarum after the Green Leader raid, everyone, including the pilots, came straight to Jack’s office. They then played the audio recording of what had happened to everyone who gathered there. There was Norman Walsh who was the Director General of Combined Operations, Peter Walls who was Head of the Armed Forces and Air Vice-Marshal Hugh Slatter amongst others. That was the first time anyone had heard the details of the raid. There was a lot of swearing on the tape though and halfway through Jack apologised to me and said that I did not have to stay. He was such an old-school gentleman.”

The final tally for Operation Gatling was fifteen hundred ZIPRA combatants killed and thirteen hundred injured. This, for the loss of one SAS soldier killed and three airmen wounded when a helicopter was hit by cannon fire and downed. Although Rhodesia couldn’t afford to lose neither man nor machine, on balance it had been a good day.

. . .

[In 1979 South Africa] reinstated almost unlimited military support and the military planners in Salisbury readily took anything they could get, even integrating the South Africans into their next cross-border raid. This ended up being a joint attack against the Gaza Province of Mozambique. Designated as Operation Uric by the Zimbabwe-Rhodesians and as Operation Bootlace by the South Africans, the aim of the operation was to sever key transport bridges in the province and destroy a major staging point for the Zanla insurgents.

. . .

The Rhodesians launched Operation Uric on September 1st and the battle lasted almost a full week. It was one of the largest external operations of the war and it significantly changed the dimension of the conflict. With the Zimbabwe-Rhodesian and South African armies on one side and Zanla and the Mozambican army and police on the other, Uric internationalised the Rhodesian War. The deep incursion inflicted a high number of FRELIMO casualties and significant infrastructure damage which dramatically impacted the Mozambican economy. Although the Zimbabwe-Rhodesian negotiators at Lancaster House did not realise it at the time, Mozambique could not sustain this degree of punishment and Samora Machel insisted that Mugabe either negotiate a settlement or vacate Mozambique.

In total Jack flew three DC-7 missions in support of Uric, starting the day before launch when he flew twenty-five South African ‘Recce’ special forces (designated as ‘D Squadron SAS’ to disguise their origin) to their staging post at Buffalo Range near the eastern border. By the time the operation was wrapping up Jack was already into the detailed planning of his next daring mission. This time it was Operation Cheese and the plan was to down the longest road and rail bridge in Africa. It was located in northern Zambia and was being used to transport military supplies down from Tanzania. This ‘Tan-Zam’ rail link was also crucial to the Zambian economy as the only other option was the southern trade route through Rhodesia, and that would only be made available if Zambia stopped providing sanctuary to Nkomo’s insurgents. It was hoped this attack would force Kaunda and Nkomo to the negotiating table.

The logistics for this audacious attack were tricky though as the rail bridge was almost eight hundred kilometres north of Salisbury, well beyond helicopter range. This Chambeshi Bridge had been identified as a strategic target since 1976, but it was considered too far away and too complex to be achievable. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

While there was no way of getting the team of saboteurs out of the target area, a HALO drop from the DC-7 was the ideal way of getting them in. In early September while the battles of Uric were still raging Jack did a couple of night reconnaissance flights over the bridge to find a suitable drop zone. Once he confirmed the DZ the training for the jump began. The first team of four men were due to be dropped on the night of September 12th, just two days after the start of the Lancaster House talks. Kevin Milligan takes up the story, “As the owner of the DC-7, Jack could make sure he was on all the important missions with it. He thrived on it. He had been on the crew for the training jumps and we were in very good hands. Jack, a well-built man, oozing a quiet confidence, was a legend in his own right and had carried out many daring exploits in his time. Nothing phased him and the men found him considerate and amusing.” Unfortunately by the time they got over the target zone after midnight it was obliterated by heavy haze and they were forced to abort the mission. As they needed a clear full moon they had to wait almost a full month for the next suitable opportunity.

. . .

On September 27th Jack’s nephew Mike Kruger was called upon to evacuate an operational casualty. It was a hazardous operation requiring the casevac to be done right in the midst of an ongoing firefight. As Mike managed it successfully with no regard for his own safety he was awarded the Bronze Cross of Rhodesia. A week later with the full moon on October 3rd, 1979 Jack again flew the four-man SAS ‘freefall’ team back to the Chambeshi bridge.

According to Kevin, “I was very aware that the DC-7 must have sounded very noisy at eight thousand feet. We were already pushing our luck. I frantically peered out for any sign of the river and the crucial bend, but to my great disappointment, again, nothing. With a very heavy heart I told George to abort. I was so angry and frustrated, but had a final look out of the door. It was like something out of a movie. At just the right time and the right angle, I saw the moon glinting on the river bend that I was looking for, just as it was on the reconnaissance photo. There was little time for the normal flat turn corrections on run-in as I called to George “Come left, come left, harder – steady” then “Go! Go! Go!” and off they went. Straight into the storm. Full flap and undercarriage down to slow the aircraft.” It was one thirty in the morning on October 4th.

Paul French, who was leading the initial recce team remembers, because of his heavy kit, just flopping into the slipstream, the brief smell of the engines and then the silence of the free fall. As he turned to face the box of canoes and equipment he could clearly see the reflection of the moon and the dark shapes of the other men. He followed them down to ‘pull height’ and opened the parachute at two thousand feet as he wanted to be close to the box. Strangely the box was never found and the team, with their reduced kit had to improvise. When considering Jack Paul recalled that “Jack Malloch wasn’t young anymore. He was slightly overweight and seemed slow to move, but he exuded a calm confidence born of experience, risk-taking and success. He was a motivated man who appeared to be accustomed to getting his own way.”

. . .

Five nights later, a South African C-130 Hercules dropped the full twelve-man team of SAS commandos and all their equipment over the Chambeshi DZ. According to Kevin, “Someone in high places had obviously pulled strings and it was in South Africa’s interests too to have Kaunda reined in.” At two o’clock in the morning of October 12th the bridge was successfully severed and all sixteen commandos were able to hijack a couple of trucks and drive their way to a designated pick-up spot where the helicopters could reach them.

. . .

[At the end of the war] Along with the Commonwealth Monitoring Force the world’s news media also flooded into Rhodesia, each trying to find a unique newsworthy story from within the closed, war-torn little country. Remarkably the Daily Express chose to tell the story of “Captain Jack – Hero without a medal.” In their editorial they said, “Captain Jack Malloch was the doyen of the Rhodesian sanctions busters, the link man of the intricate spider’s web of commercial cross-deals which somehow kept Rhodesia alive for 14 years of economic isolation. Many believe that without Jack Malloch, Rhodesia would not have survived. Until now, Malloch, cloaked his usual life in silence. A small airline venture was the beginning of a career that was to turn him into perhaps the most notorious adventurer in the rugged world of African aviation.”

There you have it.  A remarkable record of achievement by a remarkable man.  Those who knew him, no matter how fleetingly, will not forget him.

Peter