ZPRA’s casualty evacuation during the war

In war, particularly guerrilla warfare, not everything can be planned for. Certain realities cannot be anticipated, no matter how careful the planning and preparations. Fighters are trained to engage: to shoot, to take cover, to survive the immediate encounter.

But war rarely follows instruction. The enemy uses the same tactics. Survival often comes down to who sees the other first and who reacts faster.

In that uncertainty, injuries and deaths become inevitable. During the Liberation War, such moments were frequent. What made them more tragic was that, in some cases, lives were lost not only to enemy fire but to gaps in planning.

[paywall]

One of the most dangerous situations was when guerrillas had to cross the perilous Zambezi Escarpment, with its steep and unforgiving gorges. Many guerrillas fell there, sometimes just before completing their missions. Incidents like that not only require endurance but also call for decisive leadership and careful assessment of next steps.

I recall the painful fate that befell a comrade who broke his leg after falling into one of those treacherous gorges. He was left behind in a ravine as the unit proceeded to carry out a mission at Elephant Mine near Wafa-Wafa in Kariba, then a Selous Scouts training base. The assumption was that he would remain hidden until his comrades executed the mission and returned.

When the unit came back, they could not find him. A search later revealed that he had crawled several hundred metres from where he had been left. Alone, injured, and hearing gunfire nearby, he feared capture.

He shot himself. He was found a day later, his gun between his legs, as helicopters and search teams closed in. No one can say what he endured in those final hours.

What remains is the question: could this have been avoided? Had the mission been delayed and evacuation prioritised, perhaps the outcome would have been different. Another incident in DK, an operational area in the Hwange-Binga region, further illustrates this problem.

A comrade fell into a steep gorge and sustained injuries. Sadly, his absence went unnoticed, and his comrades pushed on, leaving him behind without support. He attempted to follow his unit the next day, but there was no chance of catching up.

Eventually, he entered a nearby village, where an old man offered him food laced with the notorious sleeping herbmligasigoli. After consuming it, he lost consciousness, and the villager alerted enemy forces. The poor comrade later woke up in a Selous Scouts camp, shackled in leg irons.

Had the commander realised his absence in time and initiated a search, this comrade might not have been captured. Certainly, not all incidents could be anticipated, but with better preparation, many could have been handled better. In 1978, during deployment in a remote corner of the southern operational areas, far from any formal medical support, I stumbled upon a quiet but effective system that had taken shape, not born of genius military manuals, but from the everyday life of the people.

I observed that local communities relied heavily on donkeys for daily activities. Donkeys were used for all kinds of transportation, even for trips to the grocery store. I had previously passed through the same area in 1976, where we were transported overnight in donkey-drawn carts known as ‘gariki’.

These carts ferried us to the Shashi River, covering long distances through the night until we arrived and crossed the river. At the time, I did not realise how significant this experience would later become in managing casualty evacuation. While I cannot speak for all operational areas, in many regions the donkey soon proved to be the most reliable means of transporting casualties, as well as materials such as ammunition and heavy weaponry.

Thegarikicart was widely used in areas like Nswazi, Toporo, Beitbridge, and Gwanda. Typically drawn by two to four donkeys, it was remarkably efficient and could reach speeds of 30 to 40 kilometres per hour over long distances.

[/paywall]