I told a fellow Cde to kill me in desperation

LAST WEEK, CDE CHIONE CHIMUKOSI, whose nom de guerre was Cde Peter Tichatonga, shared with our Political Editor KUDA BWITITI how he survived an attack on Tembwe by Rhodesian Security Forces. This week, he chronicles how he escaped two raids by the dreaded Selous Scouts sometime in 1978.

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Q: After surviving the massacre at Tembwe, where were you deployed?

A: I was deployed back to Mt Darwin, operating in the Chesa area. The battles I fought in that area are too many to list. After operating there for much of 1978, I was deployed to the Musana area towards the end of that year. I operated in places such as Chikwaka, Pa13 and Mumurwa Mountain, where some memories stand out vividly. One such encounter occurred at the Mumurwa Mountain in Musana.

Q: Please tell us what happened.

A: We were stationed at one of our bases, which we believed was well-fortified and difficult for the enemy to penetrate because we were in the mountains. We were confident that this was one of our most secure bases.

Enemy forces knew that area, but the jagged cliffs and dense forests formed a natural fortress.

We had chosen this place precisely because it was a nightmare for any conventional force to assault, and we had vantage points that allowed us to see the enemy long before they saw us.

However, there were times when we would leave the base to gather food from the povo (civilians). Regrettably, enemy forces ambushed us at around 9pm when we were having a meal with the povo. We later discovered they were Selous Scouts.

Q: So, you were caught off-guard?

A: Yes. The Selous Scouts had captured some of our men.

They turned them, extracting every detail of our movements, our routines, even the hidden paths we knew.

With that knowledge, they set the trap. They knew exactly where we would be and how best to strike.

They turned our own comrades into weapons against us.

We were eating when enemy soldiers suddenly emerged from all directions, firing relentlessly.

The worst part was that five civilians, mujibhas and chimbwidos (war collaborators) who had sheltered us, were killed in the assault. The Selous Scouts were heavily armed — they had a bazooka, and they aimed at a hut where our Good Samaritans were in, and they were shot at and died.

Since I was eating, my gun was beside me. One soldier shot at me but missed — instead, the bullet struck my rifle.

Shrapnel also hit my face, leaving me in excruciating pain.

To this day, I still feel pain from the injury. We ran into the bushes.

As I was running, at times the pain became unbearable, and I thought of stopping and just giving up.

I was certain I would die. In desperation, I even begged a comrade to shoot me.

Q: Why would you ask that?

A: I believed my end had come, and I preferred to die at the hands of a fellow fighter rather than the enemy. I was drenched in blood, collapsed to the ground and waited for death. But a comrade saved me.

Q: How did he rescue you?

A: A fellow fighter, Cde Garikai, and another comrade carried me on a makeshift stretcher, made from tree branches, until we got to another village where the povo helped me to stop the bleeding and nurse my wounds.

Some of the comrades managed to source some medicine for me. They left me at that homestead to continue fighting. After a day, I began to recover. But this was not the end of it. The enemy forces had not stopped tracking me.

Q: You mean they tracked you to that house?

A: Yes. What had happened was that while I was carried away from the combat zone radius, our forces had managed to fight back and killed about six Selous Scouts during fierce fighting.

So, in retaliation and unbeknown to us, the Selous Scouts had been tracking our movements. They traced me to the house where I was recuperating — likely following my blood trail.

Two Selous Scouts reached the homestead where I lay recovering.

It was tense. I crouched inside the hut, barely breathing, as their voices cut through the thin walls.

“Have you seen an injured guerrilla?” one asked.

The woman who sheltered me answered without hesitation: “He passed through earlier — never entered my home.”

I had a grenade on me, just in case.

My grip tightened around the grenade. One quick throw and there would have been bloodshed.

I quickly shot down that idea, realising that the blast could harm my hosts, too. Seconds stretched like hours, my pulse roaring in my ears. Then, I heard the boots crunching away.

The woman’s lie had worked.

Had they stepped inside, those scouts would have executed me on the spot.  But fate, or courage, had other plans.

Q: When did you then leave that homestead?

A: I walked away from that homestead early the next morning.

My wounds from the ambush still burned with every step, a constant reminder of both pain and unfinished battles. I was able to reconnect with other comrades. We then regrouped at a new base deep in Chief Mangwende’s territory in Murewa.

The medical officer, Cde Chando, took one look at my injuries and shook his head, and urged me to seek proper treatment at the ZANLA hospital in Mozambique. But I clenched my jaw and refused. The war wasn’t over. My comrades were still in the field, still fighting.

How could I retreat to a hospital bed while they carried the weight of the struggle? For me, pain was temporary because I had the willpower to fight more battles.

Next week, Cde Chimukosi speaks about a daring mission he was involved in to capture a notorious enemy soldier.