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A Tribute to Guinea Fowl School
By Adrian R. Haggett
Many Guinea Fowl old boys will remember the small-bore shooting
range at the school. It had a somewhat revered reputation throughout the
Midlands because, the headmaster had opened the range for public use
during weekends. Roger Smith was the deputy headmaster at Riverside
School, where I was teaching. He was an ex-Chaplin High School scholar and
a dedicated shottist , not only in small-bore but, as a member of the
Police Reserve service team and later, selected to join the national
shooting team.
Roger persuaded me to join the small-bore club in
1975. Every Sunday morning we would drive out to Guinea Fowl to be
welcomed by Selwyn Stevens, the club chairman and also the local butcher,
as I recall. A container, next to the firing mound, housed the stands for
the targets and these were duly positioned on the 25m mark in preparation
for the first detail of the day. The range was a pretty sparse affair,
being graded dirt and sloping away from the firing mound, down to the
earth bank at the end of the range some 110m away. A small-bore target at
25m is tiny and, like any form of shooting, aiming has to be precise. Even
at such short range the wind has to be factored into the shot. These were
skills I learnt as I practised more and more. Small cash prizes were
awarded, on site, at the end of every shoot, followed by sandwiches,
coffee or beer. Coffee was the preference in winter months as anyone, who
has experienced the Somobula/Selukwe winters, will vouch for this warming
beverage.
My preferred rifle was a .22 Mannlicher/Steyr that I
bought from the owner of a smallholding near the Henderson Research
Station on the road to Mazoe. The weapon had a shorter barrel than the
favoured Bruno and Walther brands and, therefore, considered not as
accurate as its counterparts. Unlike the Bruno and Walther the wooden
stock on the Mannlicher ran all the way to the end of the barrel so, the
rifle attracted considerable interest from others at district
competitions. I never saw another one like it in all my days in Rhodesia.
Despite its “short-comings” the Mannlicher held me in good stead, although
it did not turn me into a champion. Those days on the Guinea Fowl range,
however, are etched in memory and there is not an unpleasant one amongst
them. It was a close-knit “family” of men, ladies and a few
teenagers.
From 1977 to 1979 I served, intermittently, with 1
Psychological Operations Unit (1POU) and, after a five-month stint in
Mtoko, I was posted to JOC Grapple under the command of Colonel David
Heppenstall. Other regular officers I remember were Captain John Cronin,
Major Bill Winhall and a Welsh captain by the name of Griffiths. My brief
at JOC Grapple was to scout the area for a suitable disused/abandoned farm
building that could be converted into a “tame gook farm” – a place where
captured terrorists could be turned around in order to sway their
allegiance towards the Rhodesian troops. I had visited such a farm on the
shores of Lake Darwendale, outside Salisbury. It was here that I realised
just how dangerous a situation I had been placed. Senior officers had
decided not to disarm the captured terrorists because this might dent
their morale. “Tame gooks” were roaming the farm armed with AK 47s and
nobody knew, from one moment to the next, exactly what was going on in
their heads. Were they likely to remain “tame” or, turn on our forces when
opportunity struck? It had happened on 29th April 1975 when a “turned
terrorist” had reverted to his communist ways whilst on night watch at
Mukumbura, in the Mount Darwin district. Five Rhodesian soldiers were shot
dead whilst asleep – and again, in 1979 when Captain Mike Hardy was shot
dead whilst working with a group of “tame terrorists” in Bulawayo.
It was at Darwendale, also, that I experienced my first “military
action”. A fellow soldier accidentally discharged a .762 round from his FN
whilst, sitting on his bed in the barrack room, cleaning his rifle. The
round ricocheted off an unknown number of walls before passing through the
front, upper right leg of the owner. The impact shattered the femur
causing bone splinters to puncture the skin through the soldier’s thigh. I
was surprised that the bullet, having bounced off walls, still had the
velocity to cause such damage. I was relieved, however, to notice that
there was not much blood about and, therefore, the femoral artery was
likely to be intact. Between myself and a fellow teaching colleague, Steve
Atkinson, we managed to immobilise the leg by strapping three planks, two
on the outside of each leg and another between the soldier’s legs. We then
loaded the injured patient onto a Land Rover. I jumped into the driver’s
seat, barked at Steve to ride “shotgun” and radioed ahead for assistance
at Andrew Fleming Hospital.
Upon arrival at the hospital we were
met by a white, male doctor who took one look at the man and demanded,
“Who did this?”
“He accidentally shot himself, Sir.” I
replied.
“No”, said the doctor, “Who did this?” pointing at the three
splints.
Steve and I glanced at each other striving for some excuse.
“We did, Sir.”
“Well done lads – I can save this man thanks to your
good work.”
Steve and I exchanged glances once again but, this time,
more in shock and bewilderment. It was the first time either of us had
performed First Aid in the field.
Back at JOC Grapple I busied
myself inspecting maps for likely areas to discover a remote, disused barn
or household. One morning Colonel Heppenstall entered my office to
instruct me to have a look at Guinea Fowl School, once I had exhausted the
farming areas. Guinea Fowl School – one of Rhodesia’s most prestigious
boarding establishments could be turned into a “tame gook farm”! I made a
mental note to spend as much time possible in the farming areas without
informing the OC of exactly how much progress I was making. Looking back,
I realise that youth tends to detract from the realisation of potential
danger. My army uniform and rifle would surely keep me safe. Here I was,
accompanied by another soldier, driving around the Silobela, Somobula and
Lalapanzi farming districts. We drove on dirt roads to reach farms and
entered abandoned farm buildings, not knowing whether the enemy was
present or not. We were never ambushed, never shot at and never hit a
landmine but – it could so easily have happened.
Having eventually
advised the colonel of all potential sites for a “tame gook farm” it was
time to pay a visit to Guinea Fowl School. It happened to be a Wednesday,
traditionally set aside at the School of Infantry for afternoon sports.
Despite the war situation, Major Bill Winhall upheld this tradition and
duly informed me to arm myself with a set of clubs – we were off to
Selukwe Country Club for a round of golf. As we approached Guinea Fowl
School I informed Bill that I had to make a stop in order to inspect the
place but, it was clear things were different. Tall communications towers
had suddenly appeared on campus, with army personnel everywhere. Bill
informed me that the army had already taken over the place in order to
improve communications in the Grapple area. Although the headmaster was
reported to be there, we did not meet him. We did, however, manage to chat
to a long-standing, and rather eccentric, member of staff, Ginger Webster.
Ginger was somewhat of a loner. He was known to pack a flask of tea to
spend his weekends on long-distance runs through the hills of Selukwe.
Ginger was devastated by the recent closure of the school. He was busy
packing the last of his possessions in preparation for a transfer but,
such was the war situation and so be it.
I left Bill to greet
fellow officers and sauntered down to the small-bore range for one last
look. The range was unkempt with primary vegetation sprouting here and
there in an effort for the bush to reclaim its original status. A
multitude of thoughts buzzed through my head. Had my deliberate
procrastination saved the school from being turned into a “tame gook
camp”? I rather hoped so because, the communications centre seemed to be a
far better option for the demise of such a fine school. Other thoughts
concerned the friends I had at Guinea Fowl during my years as a student at
Plumtree. The highlight of the cricket season was our train trip to Gwelo
to play against Guinea Fowl or Chaplin schools. The train arrived in Gwelo
during the dead of night. Railway staff simply uncoupled the Plumtree
carriages and left us to sleep until morning when we would be met by a
school bus and transported to breakfast. The Guinea Fowl boys had a
reputation for being strong, yet fair, competitors. They were also very
hospitable hosts. It was to be no more. Guinea Fowl was to remain in the
hands of the military for several years to come.
Guinea Fowl,
however, did become a school again. Most of the following is taken from
the Guinea Fowl High School web page on Facebook – some thirty three years
after its initial closure. “The school, which
opened with five form one and two form three classes, had a chequered
history .It started as a station for the Royal Air Force in the mid-1940’s
until it was converted into a boys' high school in 1947. The school closed
in 1978 at the height of the second Chimurenga and was used by the Ian
Smith regime to train the notorious auxiliary forces, known as “Pfumo
Revanhu”.
Just before independence, Guinea Fowl played host to
hundreds of former combatants when it was briefly turned into an assembly
point. Later it became the headquarters of the infamous 5th Brigade before
the unit relocated to Battlefields near Kadoma. The school was then turned
into the headquarters of 6th Brigade until the unit was dissolved.
The
Midlands deputy regional director for secondary schools, Mr William
Mavengere, toured the school in the late 1990s and said he was impressed
with progress at the city’s newest school. He praised the school
development committee which had worked hard to turn the once army
establishment into a school. “If we had such committed school development
committees everywhere we would not have any problems,” he said.
The
headmaster, Mr. Ernest Muchadenyika, said that donations for the new
school had been tremendous.
Regrettably, the school changed its name at
the end of 2001 from Guinea Fowl School to Nelson Ndamere High School.
Apart from closing at the end of 1978, due to the fall in enrolments as a
result of the civil war and the subsequent reopening in 1998, this is
probably the biggest single change that signals the end of our
heritage.
Does anyone know who Nelson Ndamere is, or was?
End of Article
Thanks to Adrian for
sharing his memories with ORAFs.
Refer: http://www.ourstory.com/thread.html?t=527440#650733
Kind Regards
Eddy Norris |
