Story of Cde James Jambo alias Stalin Angels Zimbabwe

I ESCAPED death by a whisker when Tembwe Military Training Camp, in Mozambique was attacked on November 27 1977.
That day I did not attend the morning parade which was usually conducted at 6am.
I felt exhausted and thought I had a fever.
The spirit mediums had warned us about an impending attack, but people did not really pay attention.
It was an unusually quiet morning.
Even the birds appeared to have lost their capacity to chirp that morning.
The sky was clear, the wind blew lightly.
It was a morning you would not expect anything to go wrong.
Finding no comfort in sleep, I gathered that strength I had to take a walk.
As I walked I saw something in the air which I mistook for a bird.
But then I heard the anti-air fired.
Then I knew, what I thought was a bird was the unfriendly visitor ‘alumanya’, the spotter jet.
This visit by ‘alumanya’ was always followed by an air raid.
And one indeed followed.
The Rhodesian forces were attacking the base.
I saw three helicopters dropping paratroopers at the eastern side of the camp.
Instantly, I saw the strategy that was being employed by the Rhodies, they were hemming us between them and the Tembwe River.
The paratroopers intended to slaughter us and attempts at fleeing would be slowed by the river.
The camp mostly consisted of recruits that were still receiving training.
Bombs had begun raining on the camp.
Buildings began blowing and in the ensuing smoke I rushed to the male barracks.
Through the smoke I saw a helicopter flying towards me.
Instinctively, I rushed to the urinary trench and dived in.
The helicopter dropped its load and being near whatever the pilot targeted my left leg and back bore the brunt of shrapnel.
By this time, the whole area was filled with dead bodies.
I crawled to where the 72 mm recoilless was kept.
Just before I got to my intended destination, I saw four Rhodesian soldiers coming my way.
Fortunately they didn’t notice me in their murderous daze.
I squeezed myself between some dead bodies and kept still.
The Rhodesian soldiers were moving around looking for survivors, to finish them off.
Suddenly there was a dark cloud which let loose heavy rainfall.
The Rhodesian soldiers left the scene to seek shelter from the rain.
I took the opportunity to escape.
I escaped to a nearby mountain where I hid in a cave.
I tore part of my shirt which I used to stem the bleeding in my leg.
For the next four days I stayed in that cave as the Rhodesians kept on bombing the area.
I don’t know how I survived those four days without food or water in the cave.
The bombings ceased on the fifth day.
I crawled towards the entrance of the cave where I patiently waited for help, from any passerby.
For six hours I waited and then a female trainee guerilla who had escaped to a nearby village passed through.
She carried me on her back to the gathering point.
As guerillas we always had a gathering point where we would meet in the event of an attack.
Our gathering point was Chari Mountain.
When we arrived at the mountain there were more than 400 guerrillas who had escaped the Rhodesian attack.
I never again saw the lady who rescued me.
Compiled by Emergencey Mwale-Kamtande