Rhodesian farmers at war
THERE is a new breed of farmer emerging, battle-hardened younger men. Men like 29-year-old Rhodesian-born Don, who has spent 10 years in the Security Forces and who now manages a 5 000 hectare estate which produces tobacco and maize and runs a large cattle herd. The farm is mere stone's throw from a sprawling Tribal Trust Land in the Beatrice District. Terrorists are active, attacking farms, labour compounds, destroying crops, stealing cattle, ambushing farmers on the land and on farm roads and laying landmines, which are the most indiscriminate killer in this war, and the most feared.
The toll among farmers is disconcertingly high despite the tight security network which blankets this prosperous district. It is obvious the external terrorist movements are making their largest yet assault on the commercial farms.
The farming community there are anxious but not dispirited for they are now stronger militarily than at any time during the last seven years of terrorism. Farm attacks are stepped up, but most are beaten off. Militia guards are making it more difficult to hit homesteads, destroy equipment and crops; hundreds of head of stolen cattle are being recovered and better equipment is more efficiently detecting landmines.
Farmers in the Beatrice area, indeed in areas throughout the country, are now able to react in force to terrorist attacks, ambush or to reports of terrorist presence. This is due mainly to the setting up of Area Co-ordinating Committees which are "self-help" community units comprising local farmers, police and military. These have been formed under the umbrella of a national co-ordinating body representative of organised farming, government and the military. The initiative, the brainchild of the RNFU and the Ministry of Agriculture, has won the enthusiastic support of government, military, commerce and industry, who together with farmers, are providing the necessary finance to ensure the "frontline" holds. It is costing millions of dollars in equipment, arms, ammunition, and manpower but there is only one regret among farmers ... "pity these fighting committees were not set up six to seven years ago."
Don is married to an attractive blonde, and they have a three-year-old daughter. He commands the estate's reaction force and has a separate military commitment which takes him away from his farm, though every effort is made by Combined Operations to limit the time active farmers are pulled out of their own areas to serve elsewhere.
By and large this is working. It hasn't always been so. In the early days of the war farmers were taken off their land and transported hundreds of kilometres to the other side of the country to guard other people's farms. There is the story of one Salisbury farmer who was ordered to a farm outside Bulawayo to guard a family while the husband was away on military duty. He arrived there only to find that the Bulawayo farmer had been sent to Salisbury to guard his wife and family.
I met Don on his farm early one Saturday morning. But there was no time for talk. A team of black militia, who double up as stock men, had spotted terrorist tracks on the outskirts of the farm. Don was too busy giving instructions to bother about me. He had already radioed the local police headquarters and a PATU stick (Police Anti Terrorist Unit) was on its way. They arrived 30 minutes later, bearded young men, no older I guessed, than 20 to 22 yet they carried themselves with the assurance of combat veterans.
That day the PATU stick, Don, his assistant Trevor, aged 21 (who had served for three years in the crack regiment, The Rhodesia Light Infantry) and six militia, tracked the terrorists for 25 kilometres before losing their spoor close to a farm run by one of the country's leading cattle men, and late that afternoon when Don radioed in that he was ready to be picked up, I went along for the ride.
Don and Trevor had pulled back their militia trackers to the farmhouse just before sunset for after that there was little possibility of picking up the tracks again ... not that day anyway.
"I reckon they've moved into your compound, I heard Don tell the farmer. "That's unlikely, Don," he replied. "I've got a pretty loyal labour force. You know, they've been with me for years."
We knew they were heading away from us. Tragically, that farmer was not to know how close they were to him. He and his 16-year-old son died in an ambush near his farm exactly eight days later.
We drove back to Don's farm in silence. They were both whacked out. After an early dinner, they chatted briefly about the next day's chores and before taking themselves off to bed, they radioed neighbouring farmers to tell them the terrs had been tracked but not contacted.
"We are losing too many good men, leaders of agriculture who cannot be replaced," commented RNFU president Denis Norman when he was told of the two deaths. The element of surprise is still with the terrorist, however well farmers arm and protect themselves ... hit and run.
Don is typical of the new breed of young farmer. Tired of the military he applied for the job as farm manager through an advertisement in the local newspaper. He was the lucky one of dozens of aspiring farmers who applied, again mostly young ex-servicemen willing to risk themselves and their young families for a stake in the land.
Don, his wife and young daughter live in a spacious colonial type house which comes with the job. If he stays on in Zimbabwe Rhodesia, and he intends to, he will probably own his own farm one day. The house is surrounded by a high diamond mesh fence and there are grenades placed around the garden. These can be detonated from inside the safe area of the house. He is never without his FN automatic by day, and at night it lies next to him.
http://www.rhodesia.nl/farmeratwar.html
