I arrived in Mozambique in February 1994. The mission Onumoz drew to a close and the military of Renamo and Frelimo were grouped in areas called assembly area where they were set aside their weapons and gained what was promised by the treaties of peace, usually a bag of rice, a sum of money and tools to cultivate the land. The Assembly Area were managed by staff of the huge tents UN completely disarmed. Not more than ten, twelve people from different countries with the thankless task of keeping under control from 800 to 1,200 militants.
The military Frelimo lived in what we call tents, but more green tarps were hung over the mattresses that contained cages of chickens and men with clothes torn or old uniforms emerging from 17 years of war, some of them kidnapped children in order to fight and that after all this time waiting for a future that perhaps they could not even imagine. I remember a boy who had left home ten years, who told me that he was eager to return to his wife that since he had not seen or heard.
The management of these tents was not easy. A major problem was the supply of food and water, what harm was tied with starvation and nothing to be done for former soldiers living in camps, forced there maybe a long time. Little could the few unarmed UN military when more a thousand people decided that the water was low. Often the riots broke out and, given the relative strength and the presence of large quantities of weapons seized inside the containers monitored by UN staff, it was not uncommon that these dangerous and critical situations where the context was not controllable.
On these occasions the military Frelimo will regain some of the weapons, taking UN personnel hostage, and if there was a nearby village, it was invaded and set on fire. Requests addressed during these mostly related to the sourcing of water, food and rarely money. On these occasions was almost always alerted the helicopter squadron of the 4th group Altair allocated to Chimoio, who intervened immediately. Sometimes the intervention was limited in time and transport of materials required putting an end to the insurgency. Other times the riot took characters out war and touched often, for several days, the point of no return. In these cases,
Alpine Julia of the squadron and helicopters redeployment in the vicinity of the critical area to create a safety belt to hold the insurgents and protect the safety of UN personnel. The highest priority was to regain possession of weapons and immediately bring those rebels still far from kept inside the UN compound.
the morning of 11 March 1994 came a rather strange task order, under which we had to ensure the safety of the landing strip of the compound Villa do Save, where a rebellion had broken out particularly violent. There he was trying to hastily evacuate the largest possible number of weapons in order to prevent guerrillas to recover. Once assured the practicability of the party would take on board a C-47 weapons. at my disposal a team of six mountain armed, not much to 1,200 people, but more and more that just four unarmed UN members in the area. We arrived in view of the strip just after dawn and make preliminary observations of staying on the opposite bank of the Save river, near a big bridge. Considered relatively safe area, we approached in flight tactical flying at very low altitude area and the landing field, in order not to offer an easy target to some ill-intentioned. It was established radio contact with the staff inside the UN compound, but as we were told, they could be controlled so we decided not to totally rely on their advice.
landed on the strip in the land now largely swallowed up by vegetation to about 200 meters from the camp. What we noticed right away, and we had noticed during the flight over, a large crowd that was coming towards us, gesticulating. Some were threatening gestures shouldered arms, improvised tribal movements, mimicking the act of shooting, to throw stones, in short, a situation which is very hot.
helicopter went down to meet the head of the compound, a captain of the Brazilian UN representative. He told me that we could turn off and told us that despite the attitude of the militia, the revolt was over and all the guerrilla leaders were killed or put to flight in the surrounding bush where they had been heard several bursts of landmine. At this point, our mission was to provide security for the landing of the C-47 and, after the captain's assurances, we sent the order take-off under the command of Chimoio. Meanwhile, the Brazilian we described the situation, which, however, was clear enough.
UN tents, four in all, were surrounded by barbed wire in which some armed guerrillas (and should not be) "guarantee" their safety by keeping the other guerrillas. According to the captain, had turned around the compound a large quantity of alcohol from the beginning of the uprising and the situation, but quiet at the moment, worsened when it was necessary to send troops. This need was also given the fact that internal informers had reported the intention to regain some fighters of all weapons and leave the compound, so that we assumed that some armed with heavy machine guns were already certified on the bridge over the Save river ready to reject any UN attempt to disarm them.
Pulled by the captain, who was in an understandable state of excitement, I called and spoke to the command with the commanding general, translating the fears and demands. Reassured by what you said in general, however, the captain wanted us to go to a nearby village to see what they had done the night the guerrillas who had fled the field. We got into the Nissan UN and we went on the road that skirted the village. All huts destroyed, were terrified. Sitting on a bench in front of a slew of bottles Empty beer, there were six or seven guerrillas armed to the teeth and the captain wanted to photograph them. He said: "Those are the leaders of the revolt, so now they know that the UN knows those responsible." I feel like dying, I imagined lying a few meters from a white Nissan on the banks of the river Save, shot by those nice people only pretending to photograph them. However, perhaps due to beer, to mention only a few gestures with AK-47 Chinese and we continued to the bridge where the captain took us out to the police station: an office with a bar, completely destroyed and burned.
back to camp, attracted by the radio informed us that the contact with the C-47. Shortly after we heard the unmistakable two radial engines roar and saw the silhouette of the legendary Dakota fly on the edge of the trees as he prepared to fly over the strip of land. He landed in a small space. Black lettering on a white fuselage (interoceanic), metallic wings, an amazing thing.
from the window looked out a pilot by the apparent age of seventy years (then ensure that this was the actual age) who greeted us and leaned over the cockpit a portable GPS. It began with the arrival of the aircraft, the second phase of the day, that the negotiations between the UN commander and captain of the plane about how many weapons on board. The captain claimed that the company was paid to travel, so the pilots tended as always slightly under maximum load. As a pilot I was, however, give reason to the commander who objected to restrictions on maximum takeoff weight for that runway and had absolutely wrong.
We opened the container and began to collect the weapons, which were recorded on a list and then loaded on two Nissan to be brought to the plane. In this course assisted the guerrillas in revolt which was not always agree on the choice of weapons to be taken away and expressed their dissent by throwing stones and sticks. Among them most were Ak-47 and RPG but I also remember a pretty heavy gun, to board, took a dose of diplomacy worthy of the best ambassador.
As far as I know, recharging, my mission was over, but the commander of the aircraft in flight required an escort to the point of landing, Chimoio, about ninety minutes of flight. A helicopter escorting a plane I do not think what foreseen by any manual presents technical difficulties "aerodynamic" that go beyond the good will of the pilots. Manual in hand, we started sitting on a table and discovered that its stall speed was very close to my maximum speed. We made the flight in the small margin that the two graphs in cruise flight performance had in common.
we first took off with the AB-205 to ensure the safety of area, and then we started on the vertical track circuited. The C-47 carried out a mating rolls up in the head, moved slightly to the left to rotate 180 degrees. The tail wheel, make a circle above the shrubs to align with the runway and stopped. In the helicopter we were ready to dive in pursuit trying to seize the moment of the first movement to try to be already in training at the end of its takeoff roll. If we were late we would not have been able to achieve more and we were forced to chase away. Last audit tools in place, a last look to check the C-47 still in the lead track ... and the pilot was dropped.
Something was wrong. The commander of the aircraft was about twenty yards in front of the plane and looked dejected look a shrub that obstructs the takeoff. Landed nearby and he told us that landing did not need the whole track, but for a takeoff at full load could not do without.
Africa is a hostile territory and I had endured the ridicule of his colleagues for two months only because I went around with a strong Russian accepts the cable. With my acceptance, an alpine cleared the track from any obstacle, cursing at each blow, but from the Alps and finishing the job quickly. We repeated the work necessary for take-off and we could see the plane in flight - out magically who knows what age - speed up, pull on the tail wheel and the track seemed more and more incredibly short, imperceptibly back down and raise the nose touching the trees that bordered the roadway, continuing to gain valuable cm with the trees that seemed to be his pillow, retract that basket made of cross tubes and wheels detached from the balloon and finally African bush with the muzzle pointed in Chimoio.
We were there, the soldiers left, a ' indescribable emotion. The rumble of radial engines that could overcome the poor flappeggio 205 stable at its maximum speed, 124 knots, and that character from another time, illuminated by the African sun now low, which sometimes took out a hand out the window and greeted us. I would pay gold to be there at that time I was there. After ninety minutes we landed at Chimoio in training and I was afraid that the 205 did at the end of the machine of the "Blues Brothers" in the popular film, which can be dismantled once the ground. The underestimated. Two media historians had flown together in a scenario that had given us a fantastic sunset to successfully complete a mission worthy of "Air America".
On the ground, I and the Commander of the C-47 shook hands and began a friendship that lasted throughout the mission. Wherever I went I found him and his old Dakota, so I had almost convinced they were a legend, a sort of Dutch Flying in African version. The C-47 did not come out unscathed from that launch. The rotation to align with the runway had ripped the lining of the left wing and left tailplane, but also continued to fly as his senior pilot.
Written by: Alexander Fantato (former Air Force Staff Sergeant)
