Men of War: John Jungle Jordan,
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John ‘Jungle’ Jordan. By Hannes Wessels
“Having recently passed my SAS selection, as one of the older candidates to do so, plus being a Territorial Officer and not a Regular Soldier, I was pleased to be included on my first full blown operation. My performance on this task would be evaluated before a decision was taken as to whether or not I would receive my ‘colours’. I was also excited because I would be going with Rich Stannard to test a new concept of a lightweight, mobile, two-man recce team that could move fast through the bush. Rich had recently returned to the SAS from the Selous Scouts where he had honed his reconnaissance skills working under Chris Schulenburg. He wanted to carry on using the same tactics in the SAS and managed, after some hard work, to get Captain Martin Pearse to give him permission.
“Immediately after selection, in February 1979, I had gone on a ‘training Op’, with several experienced operators to find routes being used by terrs into the country and try to identify some of their local contacts. Rich was one of these operators, we had both been to the same school, we got along very well, and I feel sure this is why I was chosen to be in the two-man team with him. As a new operator, no belt and beret, but very enthusiastic it was a huge honour for me. I must confess that at this early stage of my SAS career I did not fully understand what was in store for me.
“In order for the plan of a two-man team to work there had to be backup in the form of a normal, fully equipped, four-man fighting-stick with medical supplies, machineguns, radios and other equipment we would not have immediately to hand. Our only comms would be an A63 (‘small means’) radio to relay messages back to base via the stick on their TR48 (‘big means’). Without them within range we would have no way of contacting Rhodesia.
“After the normal full briefing and delivery of orders we all moved from Grand Reef airport via Lake Alexander north of Umtali into Mozambique and the Chimoio area. We knew there had been terr bases in the area we were going into but no close-in recces had ever been done. All the reconnaissance had been done from the air.
“To carry out our reconnaissance mission on we had selected a large hill in the area. After drop-off by chopper and selecting an area for the support stick, we set off in the direction of the target which was about 40 kms away. The walk in was going to take time as we planned on moving with extreme caution and anti-tracking all the way. Our plan was to take three to four days rations and work from there regarding future intentions. We could only walk at night so as not to compromise ourselves with the locals. On the second night we came across paths and the odd abandoned hut, which slowed us down but created no problems. As our designated feature came closer into view the less it looked like a ‘hill’ and the more it looked like a bloody great mountain. We decided to scale it on the steepest side in the hope that there was less likelihood of habitation. It was in this move around the mountain that we came across bivouacs which we presumed to be occupied by their camp perimeter sentries. This was a little alarming because we had to move towards the mountainside but avoid the camp and its inhabitants and get there before dawn.
“With little time to spare, we managed to find the rock face and immediately commenced the ascent. In true Hollywood fashion it had to get worse before it got better. Tired and struggling upward through rocks we stumbled upon a beehive and had to make a wide detour around them to minimise the number of stings. Anyone who tells you bees sleep at night is talking rubbish – these were wide awake and not at all pleased to see us!
“We were exhausted, and my brain kept telling me the end was in sight but just as I had experienced climbing the Matopos mountain on selection, that one last rise ahead just kept on going and going. However, I shall never forget the breath-taking view that greeted us when we finally crested the mountain as the first rays of golden light streaked up on the horizon. We stopped, drew breath and gazed in awe at a view that went on forever. But there was not time for enjoying the vista, we quickly looked for good cover and went into hiding for the day. As we had been taught, we secured ourselves and ensured that we had 360° visibility, but it was completely open so we did a lot of crawling and crouching. Amazingly, there appeared to be no enemy presence atop the mountain. Their commanders had missed a big tactical opportunity and we were blessed.
“All we had been taught about ‘Shape, Shine and Silhouette’ became very important for us perched on top of our mountain right on the edge of a camp complex housing thousands of armed men preparing to terrorise the people of Rhodesia. Strips of hessian hung over our telescope and over our faces while we tried to make use of whatever shade there was available. The view below us looked like something out of a military textbook.
“In daylight the path network was very visible to us but the bivouacs were well hidden under trees and shrubbery. The task of carefully plotting and mapping out the camp occupied us for several days. As we gathered the information we transmitted it to our support-stick who then passed it on to ComOps in Salisbury.
“Despite being mentally occupied we were physically inactive because we had to move as little as possible during the day and avoid the creation of any silhouette. I had done isometric exercises when swimming for Rhodesia and thought that it could be useful in this situation. Basically I had learned to use certain muscles to exercise other muscles. By extending my arms out straight in front of me, palms together, I squeezed my hands together. My outside arm muscles were thus exercised. I then reversed the pressure and put another set of muscles to work.
“We soon realised that what had started as a short two-day observation was developing into a much longer task as our work was nowhere near finished. However, we faced two problems. Drinking water had been limited to four or five bottles because of the lightweight and fast-moving concept plus we were not moving across open ground to replenish from any rivers. Secondly, our radio used dry cell disposable batteries and we were running low on them. Again, selection course came to mind – ‘…. don’t tell me the problem; give me the solution!’
“The weather had been hot and dry so we looked wistfully into the blue sky and saw dark clouds forming. Hidden from view under a tree we hung a poncho to collect any possible rain, drizzle or dew. Looking at the batteries I worked out that if we could connect them together somehow, collectively, they must be able to produce enough to power the radio. I had to try to remember schoolboy science about wiring in ‘series’ or ‘parallel’. I worked it out and managed to stitch together a power generating system with four used batteries out of their cardboard casing connected with wire that allowed us to continue transmitting in short bursts twice a day – 6am and 6pm.
“A mounting mental challenge that I had not anticipated nor prepared for, was the sudden need to converse only when absolutely necessary. Being a TF soldier and a banker by profession I came from a busy work environment that was constantly humming with human interaction. Every day was filled with banter about our goals, wishes, dreams, families and always lots of sport. In the SAS, I had to make the sudden switch to being a loner and this did not come easily. The only time Richard spoke to me was when he absolutely had to, otherwise his lips didn’t move. The fact was that sound could get us both killed and conversation was a luxury we could not afford. Initially, I really struggled with this forced silence and did a lot of talking to myself but grew used to it as the days passed us by.
“Eventually, after days of intense scrutiny, we felt we had the target comprehensively assessed, that the information we had passed back was absolutely correct and that it was now the time to mount an attack. We strongly recommended they use maximum firepower; heavy bombers, strike aircraft, and paratroopers supported by helicopter gunships. The size of the camp and the number of occupants certainly justified this call. We could not be sure of the number but estimated several thousand terrs, several light and heavy vehicles and three anti-aircraft batteries.
“Verification of the facts was called for once or twice and exact grid references given of the above items. Although we were never told I am sure there were aerial photographs by the Canberra bombers done late at night. After some time, unfortunately, the decision was taken to limit it to an air strike only. My first reaction was one of disappointment, because this was my first operation and I wanted it to be a really good one. What we didn’t know then was that all the available shock-troops from the RLI and SAS who were needed for this operation were too busy on other tasks so it was a critical shortage of manpower that made it impossible for them to put boots on the ground.
“We were excited but ComOps was in no rush, so we had to play a waiting game while they asked for additional information. I was becoming more and more concerned. Lack of food was a growing problem, and I knew we were soon to going to run out of battery power and that would leave us lost to the world. We had planned on two days and were now into our sixth. Our teabags had been used so many times they had been squeezed of every last bit of flavour. Finally, on our seventh day word came that the attack was coming in in the morning.
“As always we were wide awake at dawn but this time we were nervous. I was concerned about the anti-aircraft guns. Had we positioned them correctly? Would the jets be able to pick them up quickly and nail them before they did any damage? The big bang was about to go off and we had better have got our facts right. If not, we were going to be in a lot of trouble and my SAS career would be over. The other question was, would we be compromised. What would happen to us after the aircraft turned for home?
“Waiting has never been one of my strengths and this was agonising. So close but still anything could happen. There was total silence when suddenly the radio crackled into life and we heard the voice of a very calm squadron leader.
‘Roger – we have target visual … and keep your mouth open all the time.’
The Canberra bombers with their 1,000 lb. bombs would be first in. ‘Whispering Giants’, they were known as, because on the approach to target, they seemed to glide in so quietly.
We lay on our backs looking skyward for any debris that might drop from above after the bombs hit. Being so close to the actual blast we had to keep our mouths open to try and equalize the displacement of air in our lungs immediately after the blasts. We blocked our ears with our fingers then saw the aircraft before we heard them and watched as they angled in towards an unsuspecting enemy.
“Two bombers dumped their loads, the ground shook and a shockwave went through the air. Shaken, I looked down to see the vegetation no longer existed; nothing, absolutely nothing! It was as clean as though a giant razor had shaved the face of the earth. Full grown Mopani trees completely gone without a trace. The silence after the noise was what I remember more than the actual blast. Nothing; no birds, no wind, no sound, just a deafening silence. I worried I had gone deaf.
“Still trying to gather my senses, I was relieved to hear from the cockpit of a Hawker Hunter, the casual drawl of the pilot telling us they would be on the target soon as the dust had settled to strafe the target after the Canberras were done.
“Travelling at such speed, and as low as they did, we heard nothing and did not pick the planes up immediately. Then they came into view and we watched the pair dive, then slow roll into a climb, back up with engines screaming, onto a ‘perch’. There, they poised like hungry raptors, while picking their targets then swooped back down at supersonic speed with cannons firing and rockets blasting off the wings in puffs of smoke before streaking downwards. The missiles flew so fast it looked like the jet had come to a momentary halt. As the one Hunter climbed away, I studied the mangled wreck of a huge pantechnicon truck through my binoculars then saw a large sheet of metal like a huge silver feather fluttering back to earth.
“Then there was a flash from the ground and one of the Hunters came under fire from a Strela heat seeking missile that raced into the sky in search of the jets. We looked on anxiously but the pilot flying top-cover saw it coming and warned his wingman who took immediate evasive action and dodged the rocket. Rich then spotted the team who were operating the missiles, called the pilot to give him a target identification and like an angry eagle the fighter screamed down and let rip with his cannons, blowing the gunners to pieces.
After taking out the main static targets that we had identified, the Hunters picked off anything else that looked worthy of their attention and raked it with fire. We noticed that at all times one aircraft went high and circled while the other fired at anything that moved or looked threatening.
“We watched the whole show in awe and like every soldier in such a situation, we asked ourselves why we joined the army rather than the Air Force! After a few more passes their leader, in the usual languid tone said ‘cheers guys’, they were heading back to their Thornhill base near Gwelo where he said they would toast Rich and I over a cold beer. Then as quickly as they had come, they had gone. Bloody hell, we thought, we hadn’t had a meal for days let alone a cold beer, and these guys would be having both within an hour.
“But the show was not over. We heard the drone of a piston-powered aircraft and a Lynx came overhead carrying our commanding officer, Captain Martin Pearse, who congratulated us on a job well done and briefed us on what had happened and what was ongoing. Several helicopter gunships then arrived and were picking off any targets they could see. Any movement gained their attention and was dealt with. This was a scorched earth approach and sitting there observing, I concluded the decision to use aircraft alone was probably the right one. Martin instructed us to remain in position for a few days to observe and report back anything that happened or moved. The good news was that we would be resupplied with food and batteries by the next chopper passing over the mountain but for the meantime we were going nowhere.
“He had barely finished talking when coming up behind us, very close to the ground, one of the helicopters was looking for us without drawing attention to us. It was so well done – the chopper dipped briefly, the gunner dumped a box on the ground, and they were gone again. We were delighted, we had batteries, rations, water and best of all; cold beers wrapped in newspaper. Also, fresh bread rolls and some hot food in boxes. The Rhodesian Air Force – best delivery service in Mozambique!
“For the whole of the next day nothing moved. We looked for anything, some movement, but nothing. By late afternoon vultures were circling above and started to drop from above for the bits of bodies scattered around. This added to the eerie feeling we had. The following day a Frelimo patrol came into the area. They drove through, in a Russian half-track vehicle, without stopping but slowing down to have a good look at destroyed items. We reported this immediately but were told to continue to observe.
“The following day it was a similar situation except that several half-tracks came. Again, we reported immediately, more from our eagerness to have more aircraft activity than anything else. Instruction was to report any further activity in an hour or so at which time a decision would be made. Exactly an hour later we were on the ‘blower’ reporting on many vehicles in the area and what they were doing. After a short time, it was decided to send aircraft to ‘look and see’.
“Soon the Hunters were back overhead circling above looking for targets, but the vehicles disappeared and hid under the foliage well away from the attack site. Sensibly, they did not open fire. Having seen nothing to go after the pilots announced they were heading home, and it all went very quiet again. That evening we received our orders to withdraw.
“During the following day we packed up and prepared to move out being careful to ensure our presence was well concealed. Later that afternoon we started moving off the top, possibly a little complacent, because there was nothing around that we could see. We used the same route down as we came up but being daylight wondered how we had managed without being heard or investigated. Because of the slope we did move further around the top of the hill heading in the direction of where we aimed to descend. Once we were on flat ground, we took a compass bearing and walked slowly, separated by several metres, observant for booby traps or anything unusual or unexpected. We were careful to avoid open spaces, stopped occasionally under shade to look and listen and I kept a backward eye wide open for anyone following us while Rich watched the compass. Then a low whistle and Rich was pointing ahead, indicating a path. He crouched down to cover and I moved forward, low to the ground, to check it out. I halted in the long grass and looked left and right warily then rose up very slowly to check out the path for any spoor. Alarm bells began to ring in my head when I saw fresh, clearly defined boot-tracks and I sensed that we were very close to the enemy. Despite the wind blowing I noticed the prints were unaffected. Using hand signals, I passed the information back to Rich who immediately indicated we move away in a different direction. Gingerly I started to move off when my world exploded – a noise I am at a loss to describe but it was mind shattering.
“It has always amazed me how fast the mind works. How so many images can pass through the brain in what must be micro-second? Was it a landmine, bomb or cannon-shell? I reminded myself I am still here and living so it cannot be a bomb and I am moving so it cannot be a landmine and the elimination process establishes that it was RPD machineguns ripping through belts of ammo. Basic training and well-practiced drills came into play and we reacted like automatons without deliberation.
“Rich was lightning fast in returning fire while I hit the dirt and started crawling backwards wanting to get the hell out, but I knew I had to take up the firefight immediately and help him hold them off. Scrambling for cover behind a tree that was thinner than my leg I opened fire on the moving grass and dust cloud ahead of me. I felt, rather than saw, Rich moving back, changing magazines smoothly, while continuing to shoot into likely cover. As we were trained, we were both mindful that ammunition was precious and not to be wasted so we were both keeping a mental note of how many rounds we were expending.
Almost automatically, our contact drills were coming into play – move, magazine, stay down, return fire. Totally focused on the people trying to kill us, we were oblivious to all other dangers. The key to the buddy/buddy system working is timing and Rich and I were quickly in sync with one another as we manoeuvred back away from the path into thicker undergrowth. Once we were in cover we stopped, listened and looked around. Where were they? How many of them? Were they still coming for us?
“Rich calmly indicated a direction of flight with a hand signal and we moved off as quickly and quietly as possible while he fired off a quick transmission to our support team telling them we were in trouble and needed help. The urge to simply cut and run like hell was huge but he displayed astonishing calmness under fire and this is what probably saved our lives. This was an SAS officer doing what SAS officers are trained and expected to do.
“Then we heard the unmistakable metallic clicks as they tapped their magazines with bullets so as to let one another know where each one was. Now we knew they were in extended line sweeping slowly towards us to flush us from our hiding place and kill us. But the tapping was a Godsend for us because we could gauge how far away they were and the direction they were moving. But during the momentary lull I suddenly realised I had a sharp pain in my leg and that my denims were wet. At the time I didn’t give it much more thought because I was more concerned about where the enemy was and when they would hit us again. There was a feeling of slight relief when the tapping sounds seemed to have become more distant and we moved away confident that now we had sent the signal, and that help in some form would soon be on its way to us although I wasn’t at all sure what they would do for us. What I do know was that I started praying. Over and over again I repeated the ‘Lord’s Prayer’. It sure helped and gave me comfort.”
“I saw him get shot,” remembers Stannard, “and heard the slap as it hit him. Funny, but I knew he was hit before he did. The problem was that before the operation I had told Jungle that if he got wounded I would kill him with a white phosphorous grenade so there would be only charcoal for the enemy to play with. I said this in jest but he took it very seriously so this was the first thought that entered his mind! I was going to kill him!
“After he was hit, there was a break in the firing while they tried to figure out where we were hiding and I used the lull to radio a distress signal back to the relay team requesting an immediate ‘hot extraction. But ‘Jungle’, realising he was wounded, remembered my warning if he was hit, took off like the wind. I raced after him but despite his wound and all I could not catch the poor bastard! He was not running from the ‘gooks’ but from me! I screamed at him to stop and eventually he did, but I was exhausted. When I got to him, I told him to relax, I had been joking and I wasn’t going to kill him.”
“On the run, and to make their task as difficult as possible we started to concentrate heavily on anti-tracking,” remembers Jungle. “The difficult art of moving through the bush without breaking or disturbing nature in any visible way. Prints in the sand are obvious but undergrowth disturbed, or a leaf detached from a branch lying at the wrong angle so the underside is upwards facing the sun could be a death-sentence. Much easier to do with time on your side. Our flight direction was no longer the main focal point, it was more a case of looking for the hardest ground; rocks preferably, over which to move. Often, we would travel at 90 degrees to our intended direction so as to walk over rocky outcrops or in a running river and then out again over rocks. Anything to slow down the trackers following us. If the trackers had to stop to look for a clue it was giving us potentially life-saving time to put distance between us.
“We were making good progress but the pain in my leg worsened and it started to throb. I whistled softly to Rich and we moved to an area on hard ground. I told him why I needed to stop and only then realised the wetness was caused by my blood and not water from grass or river. My denim was a dark shade of red. I tore open the trouser leg and saw the wound just above my knee. The dirt and blood covered it and made it difficult for a close inspection. I had a drink of water and poured some onto my leg. This, of course, caused a stinging sensation but showed two wounds on either side of the leg. Luckily, we both had a ‘first field dressing’ with us so we placed a dressing on either side of my leg and bandaged it tight. But we did not really have time, and the pressing need was to start moving again and worry about wounds later, so we were on the move again.
“Meanwhile, Rich had changed channels on the radio and contacted our backup stick to find out if help was on its way. We were told they had been told to pack up and standby for uplift in roughly 30 minutes. A separate chopper would be coming for us. A message was relayed telling them I had been shot in the leg and we were told a medic was aboard the chopper. This was all wonderful news, but we still had our work cut out to stay alive long enough for them to collect us.
“Rich set a more definite course of march so that we could relay to the incoming aircraft our location. Basically, a case of moving as far away as possible from the original contact area. The problem was going to be a landing zone for the chopper. Vegetation in the valley was mostly Mopani trees roughly all the same height. We had to find an open area; a rocky outcrop or a dry pan; somewhere with enough space for the chopper-blades to spin without hitting anything hard.
“Our ears were tuned in and when we heard the thumping of the rotor blades we could barely contain our joy. The pilot called us up and asked for a directional signal. This was done by holding down the transmission switch on the radio hand piece. Within the helicopter is a receiver that indicates on a direction finder the source of the signal. The pilot then flies on that line and straight toward us. As soon as troops on the ground have the aircraft ‘visual’ they then talk the pilot on to their position after telling him roughly how far away he is.
“Because we had been unable to find a suitable LZ, making it impossible for the chopper to land, we would be ‘hot-extracted’ by grabbing hold of a trapeze-bar slung below the aircraft on a steel cable which would then be winched aloft.
“With great skill the pilot stopped overhead just above the trees while we climbed on the bar sitting either side of the cable. Typically, this is when the chopper lifts straight up until the bar with the occupants is clear of the trees and then moves off but our machine was losing power and the pilot had no option but to drop the nose and maintain forward momentum to gather the speed needed to get lift and fly away. This meant we would have to be dragged through the trees until he was able to gain altitude, and in the process, I crashed into a tree losing my pack and my seat on the steel bar. Rich managed to hold on. As the chopper gained height and flew away, I was left alone clutching on to a branch looking forlornly at the helicopter flying away and then below me for sign of our pursuers. I had to ask myself if my fate was to survive two gunshot wounds in my leg, run and avoid the terrs for close to 10 kms only to be left to die in a tree?
“It all went very quiet and I was alone, sad and scared, thinking of what limited options were open to me if I had been abandoned. Capture terrified me. I prayed and was thrilled to hear the approaching rush of rotors signalling the return of the helicopter. To make sure they saw me and to make it easier for them, I clambered higher up the tree to where I had a stance and stood and waved furiously at the pilot. He came in slowly and carefully to a point where I could almost touch the open door. I was not going to take any chances with being left behind again and I reckon I could have been chosen for the Springbok rugby team as a lineout jumper the way I leaped up and grabbed the back wheel of the old Alouette. With both arms wrapped around the wheel the sudden weight on the one side of the chopper caused it to rock violently but the pilot managed to hold it and lifted up and away. A very short distance further on, when we were out of danger we landed briefly, I let go the wheel, arms aching, and we all leaped back into the aircraft. Finally, we were on the way home with the medic having a close look at my wound.
“The original idea was to fly direct to Umtali General Hospital and drop me off for observation and treatment. However, being dressed in terrorist uniform, still covered in camouflage paint, and being one foul-smelling mess it was decided that we go direct to Grand Reef base to get cleaned up and then return to hospital by road later.
“In view of the success of the operation I was awarded my SAS colours and the Military Forces Commendation (Operational) for bravery. The official commendation dated 3rd July 1979 reads: To bravery and determination on active service. One of the shortest citations in the Rhodesian SAS but what an adventure for a rookie on his first operation. I was, and still am, a very proud man.”
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