After having occupied the Editor’s chair for many years the inimitable Dave Blacker has laid down his pen. His name first appears as Editor on the `credits’ page of Issue No 21, dated May 1996. However, a keen bit of detective work (Dave will like that) reveals that he took on the job much earlier - the `home address’ of the Western Cape Branch, 121 Myburgh Road, Diep River (and you can guess who lives there!) was first used in September 1993. The Editorial in that issue is written in the trenchant style we’re come to associate with Dave, and we reproduce it elsewhere in this edition, as the comments expressed therein are as pertinent now as they were then.

Well done, Dave, and thanks for the many issues you have edited over the past 14 years, all of which have given great pleasure to your readers.

Dave’s big boots will indeed be difficult to fill, but that’s what we hope to do. We’re looking for a new Editor, someone who can keep the magazine ticking over for the next 14 years (well, perhaps not quite that long!) The likely lad or lassie should have plenty of time on his/her hands, should be computer literate, and should have a good grasp of what’s happening within the Regimental Association fraternity. Let’s be hearing from you.

As we’ve done so often in the past, we again ask you to provide us with news items, articles, stories, photos, and anything you can offer that you think will be of interest to our readers. Your new Editor will be ever so pleased!

Issue No 14 September 1993

I was trying to work out how long now we have been using Timour Hall as a venue for our meetings (courtesy of the IPA). In fact it’s six years, and we’ve seen some changes there since we started. It is now a beautiful and impressive place, and the grounds never cease to give pleasure, even in the midst of winter. So when they offered us a wall in the bar to decorate we jumped at the chance, and the complimentary comments received from all and sundry confirm the display of memorabilia is both tasteful and enhancing.

The Northern Rhodesia Police Association have had their meetings there for some time, and now, in the last week, an association of ex Metropolitan Police Officers has been formed and had their first meeting, so it really has an international flavour, apart from overseas visitors.

I find it difficult to understand why more of you don’t use the regular Wednesday night booze up, besides the first Monday of the month – but each to his own. You certainly can’t be drinking anywhere else cheaper.

Our Chairman now has an extensive collection of old Outpost magazines and would be interested if anyone has any pre 1960 issues to swop, sell or donate. If so please get in touch with Doug Grierson.

I never thought it would be easy trying to edit our little magazine, and it isn’t, apart from culling from other branch issues, so if you have articles of interest please let me have them for inclusion.

In March Roger Constable sent out an All Stations Radio, seeking a home for a trophy presented to his father, 3356 Sub-Inspector Gordon Ingram (Roy) CONSTABLE, for `BSAP Best Shot, 1950’. Roger accepted our `bid’ and several weeks later his daughter, Mary Anne, brought the splendid silver-plated Cup from Johannesburg to Cape Town. It has been given pride-of-place in the Trophy Cabinet at Timour Hall, courtesy of the manager, Deon Huysamen.

Our May monthly get-together at Timour Hall took the form of a Bring & Braai. The offer of free drinks was sufficient to tempt 50 members and guests, a good turnout on a rather chilly evening. Needless-to-say `a good time was had by all’ and we may well make this a regular feature.

Eastern Cape Hon Sec 6966 Rob Clark advised that one of his members, 16772 PR Chris ENSOR-McCANLIS has been admitted to Groote Schuur Hospital with a debilitating illness. Gilly Potter visited Chris and passed on good wishes from his friends in Port Elizabeth.

Transvaal Hon Sec Dick Glanville advised that one of his members, 3890 PR Rex CHAMBERS is bedridden at his home in Cape Town - Rex and his wife Barbara recently trans-located to the Cape – and would appreciate a visit. Once again Gilly was happy to do the honours, this time accompanied by his wife Isobel.

13385 PR Gerald SPANTON called to say his wife Anne has been unwell. We wish her a speedy return to full health.

5349 Brian and Ann LANE have left Cape Town, to settle in England. Their address is 9 Montague Gardens, Castle Cary, Somerset BA7 7BR – Phone 0090 1963 351506. Incidentally, Associate member (4082) Margaret MANNING lives in the same apartment block.

4991 Rex and Barbara CRAKER also left the Cape and have returned to the Transvaal. No further details are known at this time.

We welcome 6267 Geoff and Sheila HOLLOWAY, who have joined our ranks. Geoff runs several businesses and can be contacted on 083 940 4833 and geoff@aglsa.co.za.

John REDFERN, National Secretary of the Flame Lily Foundation (http://www.flamelilly.ws) has written to us with the suggestion that we put our ZimPensions issue to the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights. However, for this to succeed, we require as many of you as possible to participate and write to them. The address is UN High Commissioner For Human Rights, Palais des Nations, CH-1211 Geneve 10, Switzerland; or fax +41 22 9179011, or email 1503@ohchr.org. He says `remember, it is in your interest to help us in this matter. So far your support has been invaluable and is very much appreciated’.

4774 John FLETCHER also recently brought the above to our attention. John suggests that this is yet another avenue for pressing the concerns of the ZimPension issue. He suggests that as many of our concerned members as possible respond.

From Sharon and Tommy Schenk – daughter and son-in-law of the late John STEDALL: Please accept our sincere thanks for everything you did for Dad before and after his death. We apologise for the delay in thanking everyone. We are still very grief stricken but realise that time will heal. Dad was such a genuine and honest man and his death came as a huge shock to us. Gilly Potter sent me a copy of the Outpost, and the write up on Dad was very touching. Dad loved his family and friends, and nothing was ever too much trouble for him. We scattered his ashes at Timour Hall and Cape Town Cricket Club, as those were two of his favourite places. We also appreciated all the running around that you did the day Dad died, organising the undertakers etc. On behalf of all the family we say thank you once again.

From 6743 Bruce ALLEN (Bruce lives in Scotland): Thanks for your timely reminder re subs. I managed to contact Standard Bank in Cape Town, (a feat in itself, rather more fraught than putting a letter under a rock on the beach to await the arrival of the next East Indiaman) and they helpfully were unable to tell me what the bank charges in South Africa would be if I sent a cheque. At first the girl said there would be no charges. I suggested that in a perfect world that would be the case, but sadly in this world we are challenged in so many ways, the path being rough and steep at times, and she then agreed that there probably would be a charge, and we parted the best of friends. So I enclose a cheque for £12. Please let me know if this is enough. (Bruce, your cheque realised the princely sum of R161.70, offset by a charge of R18, so your subs are in credit for this year AND next year – Ed)

From 7184 Chris RUSSELL: I took the opportunity of posting Dave Blacker’s Editorial – which I found captivating – and the articles on `Ngwenya’ and `Baden-Powell’ on to Scouting friends. One of them, Peter Campbell commented `Thanks, Chris. As I was growing up and being educated in Salisbury and Gwelo I noticed many publications had pictures depicting slaves being chained and marched to the nearest point for departure to some other part of the world. What has always stood out in my mind was that the pictures often showed man in Arab garb, armed with rifles and whips, being the ones in charge of the procession! Yet nothing is ever said about Muslim involvement in the slave trade. I find that very interesting’. Please pass on my regards to Dave Blacker, who was my Detective Chief Inspector in Bulawayo.

From 5310 Brian PARNABY: Many thanks for the article on my great-uncle, PC Joseph Byrne, published in your February Outpost. Only three men, Rudge, Martin and Baker were arrested, charged and convicted of the Murder. An alleged fourth man was never found although, many years later, a strong suspect emerged. I have written a book on the Netherby Hall Robbery (as the case was termed), which is in course of printing in England and will be available shortly, and other books on local history, including a short one on the Toplis affair (the so-called 'Monocled Mutineer.') In 1920 Toplis, a soldier and one time deserter, murdered a taxi driver in Bristol and went on the run. He eventually arrived in Cumberland, was identified and ambushed by Police. My Mother's cousin, Sergeant Robert Bertram, of the Cumberland and Westmoreland Constabulary, is generally given credit for killing Toplis during the resultant shoot-out, as he was the only police officer there fully trained in the use of firearms. Two interesting aspects emerge from this story, viz: Bertram was Byrne's nephew, and the fatal shooting of Toplis took place within 100 or so yards from where Joseph Byrne had been shot, 35 years earlier. Robert Bertram was later awarded the King's Police Medal for Gallantry. The Author, Alan Bleasdale ('Boys from the Black Stuff' and other books) wrote a trashy story about Toplis. His story can be debunked in its entirety. However, the book was filmed as 'The Monocled Mutineer' - I saw it on T.V. in South Africa in the 1980s, with the Actor Paul McGann playing the part of Toplis.

From 6369 Eric BIRRELL: Just to let you know that 6015 Al Paterson is back in UK. He visited us recently as his mother, aged 96, lives near us in Jedburgh. He had to sort out her house etc as she is going into an old age home. He has not changed much. He came here from Zim with practically nothing, but had a lot of help from the likes of the British Legion and the Air Force Association. He is now living in Surrey and should be coming back this way for a further visit to his mum. We talked and talked about the old days and you (Dave Blacker) in particular. I told him about Eric Dickinson being used as a decoy, dressed up as a female, at the Waverly Hotel and he laughed his head off. But then he told me about you filling old Angus Cochrane's baccy pouch with a `little dagga’, that turned him a bit dilly! I was very sorry to hear of the death of Brian Gibbs. Another good one gone.

From 8244 Rob MacLEAN: I recently finished reading the book by former Inspector John Larn (7727), who, writing under the pseudonym, James Scott, has written The Sweaties, a novel about the BSAP. It is set in Rhodesia in the late 1970’s. The book gives a good perspective of how the Force, and certainly how the SWAT teams operated at that time. The book covers the destruction of the fuel depot in Salisbury’s industrial sites, and the tracking down of the perpetrators. There are a number of important main characters, within and outside the Force and it follows their involvement with one another and the circumstances in which they found themselves. The characters within the Force are mainly those within a SWAT team, a Special Branch leader and one of his undercover operatives. Those outside are mainly two rural Blacks who ‘joined-up’ in the armed struggle against Rhodesia, initially reluctantly (they had no choice really) and their evolution into ‘the struggle’. The descriptive passages throughout are excellent – the part about a SWAT team on stand-by at the Cranbourne Barracks whisked me back to those years of Riot Stand-by duties – the characters in the Cranbourne pub, the smells, the dining room; the Salisbury Central Police station, the description of the countryside, the escarpment, the Valley, the TTL’s and farming areas – for anyone who worked or travelled in those areas, it was a time-warp experience, and you didn’t even have to close your eyes to remember – it was all there, exquisitely detailed on every page. So, get out there and purchase ‘The Sweaties’ for a damn good read – you will enjoy it.

From 5483 Dave Blacker: I was sorry to hear of the death of 4354 `Sherry’ SHERRINGHAM in Bulawayo. Yet another one of the force's characters gone. I can remember in 1956/57 in the Fife Street Hostel he had a pet parrot that he brought into the bar with him every night. Sherry could drink, but so could his parrot, and it wandered along the bar taking a sip out of every ones glass until it fell over in the corner pissed every night. There was the sausage and mash incident where he plonked something on his plate and asked the mess cateress to `Put some mash on this Mrs…….’ – in a subsequent investigation no one would give evidence against him and no charge could be brought. There was another incident in the Warnborough in Bulawayo involving WPO `Georgie’ LINDEQUE, which, however has to be censored. We are all poorer with the loss of those who helped make the force unique.

Natalie WINFIELD : I am Kevin Woods’ niece. As you may be aware, my uncle drew some beautiful pictures whilst he was in jail in Zimbabwe, and it is my idea to try and market some of these in the form of posters that people can hang on their walls, or wherever. I came across your address in my uncles address book and ask if you wouldn't mind, please, spreading the word about these posters. I am attaching a flyer with sample pictures of the posters. (Readers who want further information can contact either the Hon Secretary, or kevwoods@vodamail.co.za).
 

Our Annual Dinner takes place at the Mowbray Golf Club on Friday 7 September. We are lucky enough to have engaged the well-known former Zimbabwean, Neil Jardine, as our Guest Speaker. He was Guest Speaker at the Transvaal Annual Dinner a couple of years ago and was a great success.

The annual Christmas Sundowner will be held at Timour Hall on Monday 3 December, starting at 5.30pm.

You are urged to enter these important dates in your diary NOW!

Many years ago a swarm of African bees settled in the eaves of 1 Squad's billet. Some idiot (probably Chief Inspector Trangmar, the Depot Chief Inspector) ordered the Orderly Corporal to get rid of them with a `flit’ gun. (small pump spray, self contained).

The bees were not very pleased about being sprayed, and forthwith exited the eaves. They then decided that drill instructor Gerry Winchcombe would make a perfect target. Gerry was allergic to bee stings so immediately took evasive action, by leaving the parade ground in front of the mess at the high port. He was, of course, hotly pursued by the bees, with the Orderly Corporal taking up the rear, still spraying his flit gun at the tail end of the swarm.

The only available route was across the Green Square, towards Trangmar’s office. At this point Trangers was seen and heard to scream: `Mr. Winchcombe get off MY square, immediately!!’ (or something to similar effect)

However when Gerry, the Bees and the Orderly Corporal reached Trangers' office, discretion became the better part of valour, and Trangers himself now took off across the Green Square towards the Recruits Mess, with Gerry, the bees, and the Orderly Corporal (still spraying his flit gun) in hot pursuit.

As they were now heading back in my direction I departed the scene and returned to my room, along with Mick Eglington. How the incident ended, I have no idea.

• Kidnappers are not very interested in you
• In a hostage situation you are likely to be released first
• No-one expects you to run - anywhere
• People call at 9pm and ask `Did I wake you?’
• People no longer regard you as a hypochondriac
• There is nothing left to learn `the hard way’
• Things you buy now won’t wear out
• You can eat supper at 4pm
• You can live without sex, but not without your glasses
• You get into heated arguments about pension plans
• You no longer think about speed limits as a challenge
• You sing along with elevator music
• Your investment in health insurance is beginning to pay off
• Your joints are more accurate meteorologists than the Weather Report
• Your secrets are safe with your friends – because they can’t remember them either
• Your supply of brain cells is finally down to manageable size

The term has been used ad infinitum, as have many other colloquial expressions so easily bandied about, but have you considered where it originated and for what reasons?

When answering this question as a layperson one has visions of a scene of death, desolation, smouldering ruins, scavenging, cowering canines eking out a life from what is left, the last remnants of a civil society now reduced to the `lowest’ form of life.

Is this what we mean when we talk of a country and its erstwhile entrenched ethos being beyond salvation and in the depths of despair, resorting to extreme measures for the sake of survival? Listen up Mugabe, this is your doing we are talking of. The difference is, of course, that dogs, no matter how mangy or manky they may be, have a simple code of ethics, and even in their dying throws give consideration to their own kind. To compare Bob to a four-legged rat-bag is doing the rat-bag an injustice, and an absolute insult to what has been known to us as `mans best friend’ for centuries.

When we consider the faithful, loyal, uncomplaining companions many of us had as District uniformed coppers (and even the CID had them, Dave!) we cannot just compare them with a misguided megalomaniac. District Stations and Posts had their guard dogs, with regimental numbers and pedigrees to go with, and they willingly and unselfishly served their purpose. Dog section had its crème de la crème, dogs whichably assisted in solving crime and seeking out addictive substances. Crowd control would never have been the same without those orderly, obedient and obliging four legged snappers, keeping mayhem away or sometimes causing it! Whether hovering in helicopters or hunting hares, those Intriguing icons with incisors and indelible intellect were our faithful ferreters in a force of former years.

How we dare to compare the dogs of war and ethnic cleansing with those who served us in a country like Rhodesia is beyond me. So let us take care when we so glibly use that phrase in a derogatory fashion, and understand the difference between the fiendish fascist foe and our former frontline flea-ridden friends!

• If you’re too lazy to start anything, you may get a reputation for patience.
• I talk to myself because I like dealing with a better class of person.
• Never try to drown your troubles – especially if he can swim.
• Smile, it makes people wonder what you’re thinking.
• Don’t be so open-minded – your brains might fall out.
• A bus station is where a bus stops. A train station is where a train stops – on my desk I have a work station.
• By the time a man realises that his father was usually right he has a son who thinks he’s usually wrong.

Three guys go out for dinner and each buys a meal for R100. At the end of the meal they each pay the waitron R100, which she presents at the cash register. The manager decides that as they are such nice guys (they must have been members of the BSAP Regimental Association) he’ll give them a collective discount of R50. The waitron takes the R50 back to the table, and in a frenzy of generosity (maybe they weren’t members of the Regimental Association after all!) they each pocket R10, and give the balance of R20 to the waitron. Now, if you do the sums, together they paid R300 and got R30 back, meaning they paid R270 for the meal. The waitron kept R20. This totals R290. Where did the other R10 go?

Thank God for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services.

• The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
• The sermon this morning is `Jesus Walks on the Water’. The sermon tonight is `Searching for Jesus’.
• Ladies, don’t forget the rummage sale. It’s a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
• Remember in prayer the many sick of our community.
• Don’t let worry kill you off – let the Church help.
• Miss Charlene Mason sang `I will not come your way again’, giving obvious pleasure to many in the congregation.
• For those of you who have children and don’t know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
• Next Thursday there will be try-outs for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
• Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on 24 October in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their schooldays.
• A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.
• At the evening service tonight the sermon will be `What is hell?’ Come early and listen to our choir practice.
• Eight new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members, and the deterioration of some older ones.
• Scouts are saving aluminium cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
• Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want to be remembered.
• The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
• Potluck supper on Sunday at 5pm – prayer and medication to follow.
• The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
• This evening at 7pm there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
• The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would send him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
• The Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet on Thursday at 7pm. Please use the back door.
• Weight-Watchers will meet at 7pm at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use the double door at the side entrance.
• The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare’s Hamlet in the church basement on Friday at 7pm. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
• Pastor Updyke unveiled the church’s new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday, with the slogan `I upped my Pledge – Up Yours too!’

I was posted to number 7 Helicopter Squadron at the beginning of 1974, by which time the civil war in Rhodesia was well on its way. On this occasion I had just completed a four-week trip on operations in Mt. Darwin, situated in the northeast of the country, and was looking forward to 10 days rest at home, away from the war. On my first day back at New Sarum Air force Base I wasn't pleased when my boss, Squadron Leader Eddie Wilkinson, told me that an Air Task had come in and there was no one left on the Squadron to do it but myself. There had been a recent cabinet reshuffle in government and Mr. PK van der Byl had just become our new Minister of Defence. PK, as he was affectionately known, had decided that the best way to get to know the military and to show how serious he was in his new portfolio was to tour the front line. My Air Task was to fly him around the northeast operational area over three nights and four days from 2 to 5 September 1975.

The war had not escalated much at this stage and we had fire forces only from Mt. Darwin eastwards and south down to Fungwe in the Mrewa district. A fire force was a group of five or six troop- carrying helicopters lead by another gunship helicopter. They were designed to carry a quick reactionary force to any trouble spot that could be identified by the Security Forces. I had been tasked to spend one night each in Mt. Darwin, Marymount Mission and Fungwe with PK, while he got to know the various Army commanders and their men in each place. Eddie Wilkinson, `Wilkie’, briefed me to take an Alouette II for the job, to fly low in the operational area so as not to be shot at, but not so low as to frighten the Minister. I was then to drop him back at the Squadron, where the Commanding Officer of New Sarum would be waiting to greet him before he drove home on Friday 5th. I hadn't met PK before but had seen him on television and was therefore aware of his colourful eccentric character, but I can't say I was ready for him when I did meet him for this trip. On the Tuesday my Flight Engineer, Steve Stead and I, prepared the Alouette II with enough fuel to fly us safely to Mt. Darwin. Steve and I had a tiny bag each, with clothes and toiletries for three nights in the bush and a stretcher each, packed under the back seat of the aircraft. The two of us took up very little space. PK duly arrived on the Squadron, with Wilkie in attendance. His car drove up to the helicopter and introductions and handshakes took place. I noticed that the new minister had somehow managed to find a full set of smart camouflage clothing for the trip. His attire was conspicuous, in that he wore no rank on his shoulder at all, and his green and khaki longs were different because he held them up with a brightly coloured red and yellow stable belt. He had kept the belt from his earlier days as an officer with the 7th Hassars during the Second World War in Italy. He must have dug deep in the attic for this belt. Then his bedroll was hauled out of the car boot and I wondered if we would ever get it into the tiny Allouette II. It was bigger than a 44-gallon drum and it was obvious he intended being comfortable in bed while on this trip. Then two large bags came out of the car. One must have had clothes in it and the other, much heavier, clinked with suspicion of full bottles as we somehow managed to squeeze it all into the cabin of the aircraft. He was also hanging on to what looked very much like an elephant gun. He was well known for his elephant hunts in Rhodesia with visiting dignitaries from other parts of the world, but inappropriate as this weapon might have been for fighting terrorists PK seemed delighted with it. No-one suggested he change it for a better fighting weapon like my stolen Kalishnikov AK 47 or Steve's FN rifle when he mentioned that he was hoping to put his `gun’ to good use on this trip. The chopper was frightfully heavy, but we managed to take off and flew away north over Borrowdale. We then passed over the granite hills and valleys of Dombashawa and on to Bindura, before descending to 50 ft. above ground level for the rest of the trip to Mt. Darwin. Right from the start PK was chatty and excited but he let me know within 10 minutes of leaving New Sarum that he was to be dropped in the Botanical Gardens near his house, off Second Street Extension when we returned on the following Friday. Wilkie had been explicit that he must be brought back to New Sarum where he would meet the Station Commander, but PK was insistent that he would be dropped near his house, and wouldn't accept the instructions I had been given. I thought it was odd that he should be worrying about the end of his trip before it had begun but as he said with little ceremony in his very English accent `Its all been organised, Peter! I've arranged for people to meet me there, so it cannot be changed, we must land in the Botanical Gardens!’

Ten minutes from Mt. Darwin, I warned Operations on the radio that we would be arriving soon, and discovered that a contact with the enemy was in progress to the west of Mount Darwin. `The King’, Colonel Dave Parker, was running operations in Mt. Darwin and suggested we change frequency so that the Minister could hear the punch-up taking place over the radio. PK was delighted with this as we changed over to Channel Two, and he immediately started badgering me to let him join in the contact. He wanted to be put down on his own in the contact area with his elephant gun `On high ground please, Peter, as I like to attack downhill. I'd like to bag one of these chaps and this is an ideal opportunity, don't you think?’ All this was said seriously in the plummiest of accents, and Steve Stead suppressed a smile while continuing to survey the bush around us from the back of the aircraft. There was no chance I could possibly carry out his bidding, of course, but I felt I owed it to him at least to ask `The King’ if we could fly at height over the contact area for a look at it from a distance. Colonel Dave Parker was adamant in his next instructions. `Get the Minister to Mt. Darwin, NOW, Simmo, he is not to be allowed anywhere near the contact. I will get him as close as he needs to be on the map in my Ops room when he lands!’ PK heard the transmission and looked disappointed, while Steve continued to watch the bush going by without a word, seemingly oblivious to the goings on of pilots, officers and ministers around him.

After we landed PK saw out the rest of the contact in the ops room, and spent the afternoon pouring over maps, tactics, strategies and getting to know the men involved in the war. He enthusiastically chatted to soldiers and managed to attract even the roughest troopie's attention, with them saying they wanted to `kyk this new oke’ (see the new guy). That evening he endeared himself in the Officers' Mess with his quaint stories – and three bottles from the clinking bag. The Minister knew a thing or two about winning us over, and we were well lubricated by his Scotch whisky, fine wine and beguiling character.

The following day he wanted to visit Karanda Mission on the way to Marymount Mission. The King had told him that we had taken some seriously wounded soldiers there recently and that the renowned American surgeon at the Mission had kindly patched them up, before sending them on to Salisbury General Hospital. He had probably saved the soldiers' lives and since we were never really sure whose side any of these missionaries were on, it was considered a good idea to encourage them, by sending the Minister to thank them personally for their action. We were not expected, and landed unannounced at the airfield where the Karanda Mission pilot was attending to his Cessna. When our blades stopped turning he wandered over, and I persuaded PK to leave his elephant gun in the aircraft. The pilot didn't know who PK was, so I told him this was the new Minister of Defence for Rhodesia and explained why we were there. He was most impressed with all this, and insisted on calling PK `Your Highness’ for the rest of the visit. Steve Stead and I made no effort to correct him and it seemed PK had no intention of putting the pilot right either. He obviously preferred to maintain his `no rank on the shoulders’ stance and his new `Your Highness’ title. It seemed to me that it actually suited him. The pilot showed us to the surgeon, who was appropriately thanked with a little pomp, before we moved on in a cloud of dust to Marymount Mission.

Halfway there we flew over a couple of African women carrying huge suitcases on their heads as they walked along a lonely path in the middle of nowhere. PK immediately wanted to check them out `In case they are carrying weapons of war’. This was a Minister like no other we had seen before. He was determined to be directly involved. No other senior politician had been this far into the bush before – in fact even the good ladies from the Border Patrol Welfare Fund had ventured deeper into the Operational Zone than had any of the Ministers I could remember. I felt there would be no harm in letting him have a look in the suitcases and who knows, they may have contained something they shouldn't. I looked for an open area clear of trees and big enough to accommodate the helicopter nearby and landed. I asked the ever suffering Steve Stead to accompany PK with his own weapon for the suitcase inspection. Steve's face gave away nothing as he galloped away with his FN after the Minister, who was by now bounding through the bush with his enormous gun held menacingly at the ready. By the time I got airborne and overhead the offending suitcases were open on the ground, and the African ladies were standing nearby with their hands up in the air. PK was hoiking colourful clothes out of the suitcases with the barrel of his gun. There was clearly nothing sinister hidden away in the suitcases and PK's disappointment with the lack of war booty was obvious, even from the air. We left the ladies to continue their haulage and moved on to Marymount Mission.

If Karanda was a mission prepared to treat our troops in an emergency, Marymount was a different kettle of fish. The missionaries were particularly anti us and openly hostile to our presence. This was most unfortunate, because with the large pile of dollars sent to them from America they had built a 30 by 20-metre swimming pool on the grounds of the mission, which we weren't allowed to use. A certain Father Ignatious refused to let us near the most enticing pool tucked away in this hot, dry and dusty northeast corner of Rhodesia. He was well known to many of us for marching angrily about in his white socks and sandals, constantly complaining about the many inconveniences of having military people around his mission. He never missed a chance to send letters of complaint to the ever-suffering army commanders unfortunate enough to be camped nearby on the airfield.

Major Brian Robinson, (Robbie) in command of the Special Air Service (SAS), was based there when we visited on this occasion, and his men were operating over the border in Mozambique. It crossed my mind that the Minister may not win over as many hearts and minds at this place as he had the day before. The SAS had lost one of its men the previous day. SAS Corporal Storie had been killed in action, and no matter how professional the SAS were about their very specialized job, they were still a tight-knit force of human beings. Having lost one of their team they would have been in no mood for nicety visits and polite chats with strange ministers. Brian Robbie was a tough taskmaster and the type of man who would normally have preferred that politicians stay in Salisbury with their suits and lengthy discussions, while he was left unencumbered to fight the war. I couldn't have been more wrong and was underestimating PK's charm. He was fully aware of Corporal Storie, and whilst sensitive to this he was determined to let these soldiers know they had a supportive representative in government, who was thoroughly on their side. When we landed he wanted to address the few men in camp, and he did this sensibly. PK then mentioned to Robbie that he was tired of his camouflage longs and wanted to look more like the rest of us, with the standard khaki shorts, no socks and veldskoon shoes. The Quartermaster was summons by Robbie, and a short while later the Minister walked back into the Ops tent wearing a particularly tight pair of shorts, and sporting a pair of spindly white legs. Brian Robinson saw the shorts and suggested that perhaps they were a little too short and that he might want a larger size. In front of all the assembled men PK looked down and announced `You are quite right of course, Brian, my cock sticks out of these ones!’ It certainly lightened the mood, and he was winning them over fast. After a change to more suitable trousers, more discussions about tactics, strategies and troop movements took place. PK then insisted on spending the night on ambush somewhere in the bush, yet again, hopefully, to `bag one of those buggers’. We had an early meal with him in the Mess tent, and again a few more bottles came out of the musical bag. He then set out with a group of Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR) men to ambush a likely track that had been used by terrorists to leave the country on previous occasions. It rained that night, and I really hoped whilst I was tucked up in my dry bed that PK would get a chance to finally use his gun. It didn't happen, and yet he still returned chirpy and unfazed by the wet night he had endured in the bush. He had found a 'demo' (African axe) whilst out there, which he had decided to keep as a momento, and `a rather good specimen, don't you think?’ He then had breakfast and a sleep, before we were supposed to leave at midday.

Brian Robinson had somehow managed to succeed with Father Ignatious where previous commanders had failed. Despite all of Ignatious's rude bossiness and a very tight roster as to who could use the coveted swimming pool, Brian had amazingly cajoled him out of a precious half hour from 5 to 5.30 each evening during which a few troops would be allowed to swim. This privilege was to be temporary, and all pool rules had to be `strictly adhered to’. The rule list was exhaustive and barely allowed swimmers to get wet. Staff at the mission had pool access most of the day. Students had a couple of hours under supervision and a restricted number of thoroughly washed soldiers were allowed in from 5 until 5.30pm, with `no noise please’. After his rest PK was outside the Ops tent looking a little tired when he asked about 10 or 12 SAS men around him if there was anything more he could do to help them before he left. The question was asked in the context that he might do something for them back in Salisbury as the Minister of Defence, and most people present were content to say that nothing was required. His actions the previous night, by going out on ambush, had already won their respect. However, one of the troopies was clever enough to see an opportunity, and he explained the swimming pool situation, whilst describing the difficult Father Ignatius as a member of the enemy. PK sized up the situation immediately and his answer was simple. He waved his hand in the air and said. `Go to Ignatius and give him my regards please Corporal. When he understands who I am, explain to him that from now on my troops will have free access to the pool, he will be allowed to use it from 5 to 5.30pm, and if he doesn't like the new rules I'll deport the fellow’. We left Marymount Mission a couple of hours later, much to Father Ignatius's relief, but with the complete support of every soldier within a hundred miles.

A Commando from the Rhodesian Light Infantry (RLI) was manning Fungwe Camp. It was under the command of Major Bruce Snelgar, with five helicopters at his disposal. The camp was based on a low granite kopje at the western end of the Fungwe airfield. I radioed ahead that I was landing there in ten minutes with a VVIP on board. I had elevated PK from VIP to VVIP in my radio transmissions, and as we flew over the camp Joe Sysloe, who thought I was lying about my passenger, had assumed I was trying to make myself sound important. He lined up five bored men to give me a formation `browneye’. P.K. saw the bare bottoms facing skywards as we flew by before landing and asked me disdainfully if my compatriots usually welcomed me like this. Bruce Snelgar looked after PK for the rest of the day and the last of the clinking bottles were gratefully consumed on top of the warm granite kopje as the sun went down that evening. It was a particularly red sunset and we were comfortable late into the night with the heat radiating out of the granite rock on which we were camped. I sent a message back to my Squadron Commander saying I would be dropping the minister off, at his insistence, near his house in the Botanical Gardens. The next morning Bruce gave me a telex saying that this would not be allowed. The Commanding Officer at New Sarum had planned it all and he was to be dropped in front of the reception arranged for him in front of the HQ building at New Sarum that afternoon at 5pm. I wasn't going to argue with PK about this, and by now I was sure as Minister of Defence his orders out ranked everyone else's anyway.

We left Fungwe at 4pm and flew out of the operational area and back over Avondale to PK's chosen triangle off Second Street Extension in the Botanical Gardens. Air Traffic Control had been warned of my flight and asked me if I was proceeding to New Sarum, which they were expecting. I told them that I most certainly was going to New Sarum but would be landing in Avondale briefly on the way. They didn't bother informing New Sarum of this stop, so no one had the chance to prevent me from landing at the

Minister's preferred landing zone. When we touched down at PK's landing spot, all became clear. The adjacent 6-lane highway was packed solid with the Friday evening slow moving 5 o'clock traffic. This traffic all but stopped with the arrival of our camouflaged war zone helicopter, and two servants dressed in freshly ironed and starched whites were standing to attention waiting for us at the side of the landing zone. The enormous bedroll went on to the head of the first servant and the bags were carried by the second, while PK led the entourage away from the chopper. He was wearing his newly acquired shorts and a fair amount of soot from marching through the bush and sitting in ambush, the `demo’ was hanging off his left shoulder and his elephant gun was prominent in his right hand. He threaded his way through the traffic, waving to the drivers, as the new Minister of Defence was seen to be doing his work. He must have won many votes that day and mine was one of them. I was in the quagmire for not having taken him to New Sarum, but by then there wasn't much that could be done about it. It was a fantastic trip during which Steve and I had many laughs, and we both found ourselves missing him by the time we took off for New Sarum.

As a sad footnote that demonstrates how war is hell, `The King’ Colonel Dave Parker was killed in a helicopter crash while carrying out a Xmas visit to troops in the operational area a few years later. Major Snelgar was awarded a medal for gallantry when he single-handedly cleared a cave full of terrorists, winning him the Silver Cross. Eight months later he was killed in a helicopter, along with the pilot and gunner, while flying as an airborne commander.

Some years after our visit to Marymount, one of many more contacts with the enemy took place nearby. Bloody tracks from a wounded terrorist were followed from the contact into the mission, but no terrorists were ever found there because the mission staff had hidden them away. Later still, Father Ignatius was riding on his motorbike in an area a few miles from the mission. A Communist TMH 46 land mine as big as a cake tin had been planted by a terrorist in the road he was on, intended for a military truck. Father Ignatius detonated the land mine and he was blown to pieces.

PK Van der Byl had a long and successful political career, until Independence in 1980. He then retired to his inherited farm in South Africa, and passed away at the age of 76.

Roll of Honour

9384Z R/S/O Frank Henry COX died in Johannesburg on 29 May 2007, after complications following a lengthy detention in ICU. Frank served in Matabeleland, mostly in Western Commonage. He was the father of 9189 Christopher Henry COX.

3497 William James CASTLE-WARD died on 7 May 2007 in the Mater Dei Hospital, Bulawayo, at the ripe old age of 92. He served from 20 June 1935 to 2 May 1956 and retired in the rank of Detective Inspector. He is survived by his wife, Beryl, who will be 90 this year, two children and many grand and great-grand children. He was a staunch and the oldest member of the Bulawayo Branch.

7228/7906 Gert Hendrik Petrus DE BRUIN died peacefully in his sleep, at his home in Margate, South Africa, on 11 June 2007. Gerry served from 17 January 1968 to 1 May 1971 and left in the rank of Patrol Officer. He had been wheelchair bound for a number of years. He was a member of the Transvaal Branch.

6337 Peter Vincent GALLAGHER died of leukaemia at Pontyates, South Wales on 28 May 2007. Peter served from 20 March 1961 to 21 June 1964 and left in the rank of Constable.

6050 Brian John Cyril GIBBS died at Hitchin, UK on 18 May 2007 as the result of cancer. He had been unwell for some time and his death came as a blessed release. Brian served from 20 August 1959 to 31 March 1963 and left in the rank of Constable.

6314 Barry James MARSDEN on 26 April 2007 died in hospital in Blackburn, UK, following a succession of heart problems. Barry served from 13 February 1961 to 12 February 1964 and left in the rank of Constable. He was a member of the UK Branch.

4180 Eric John MAY died in Worthing, England, on 17 June 2007. Rick had been unwell for some time and passed away peacefully in his sleep. He served from 12 January 1947 to 31 October 1974, mostly in the CID, and he retired in the rank of Assistant Commissioner.

9520 Desmond Charles ODENDAAL died at his home in Fish Hoek, Cape Town, on 29 May 2007. Des served from 6 January 1975 to 18 November 1978 and left in the rank of Detective Patrol Officer. He was a former member of the Western Cape Branch.

4354 Dennis Leslie SHERRINGHAM died in Bulawayo on 10 May 2007 as the result of a heart attack. Dennis attested on 29 November 1948 and served until 31 March 1972. He retired in the rank of Section Officer and was the recipient of the PLSM.

9417 Brian Edgar TIMMER died in Johannesburg whilst on business, on 6 June 2007. Brian served from 6 January 1975 and 1 May 1980 and left in the rank of Patrol Officer. He lived in Durban, and had been working in Ghana and Nairobi, Kenya.