I had suspected that my FB9’s engine was shy on power during each formation take-off over the previous few days, but now I knew for sure that it was not performing like those of the three aircraft racing away from me. Soon all three aircraft disappeared from view as they pitched over the rounded summit that was still a long way ahead.
I was considering lowering undercarriage for what looked like an unavoidable stall onto the rough rising ground but by using a small degree of flap; I managed to wallow past the mountain climbers’ resthouse at the summit. Falling ground allowed a slow acceleration to safe flying speed and I reestablished visual contact with the formation descending some two miles ahead.
Pregnant Beryl: a happy consequence of the Nyasaland Emergency.
For pilots and technicians of the jet and transport squadrons, life at Chileka Airport was comfortable, with pleasant tented accommodation and the airport restaurant and bar at our permanent disposal. On the other hand, No 4 Squadron’s crews were split up at three forward Airfields where conditions were not so easy; but at least they were seeing action in close support of the Army and Police.
For the men operating the Provosts, accommodation and food was pretty basic with little to occupy the long hours between sorties. It was during such a lull that Frank Gait-Smith, sitting in a camp chair and having lost interest in all the over-read magazines, watched a black woman bearing a bucket of water on her head cross the grass runway at Kota Kota. In a bored voice, and speaking to nobody in particular, he observed that, “Absence surely makes the blacks grow blonder!”
I was instructed to take my underpowered FB9 back to Thornhill and was granted permission to stay over for the night before returning with a replacement aircraft. A few weeks after this we learned that Beryl was pregnant and nine months after that one night stay-over our daughter Deborah was born.
One morning there was quite a commotion as police vehicles came onto the airport apron and pulled up to the open doors of a waiting Dakota. A number of black men emerged from the vehicles and were ushered into the Dakota. I noticed that one of them was small and still wearing pyjamas and dressing gown. This was Doctor Hastings Banda who was on his way to Gwelo Prison. The Nyasaland Emergency was over and we returned to base having been away for only twenty-one days.
The need to prepare aircrew to survive many days in the bush brought about a series of ‘bush survival exercises’. The first of these was run in August after our return from Nyasaland. Half of 1 Squadron’s pilots were flown to Binga airfield on the south bank of the Zambezi River, soon to be lost below the waters of Kariba Dam. Many crocodile basking points were evident right next to the runway markers.
A famous hunter cum game-ranger, Mr Cockroft, conducted the course that included a very long and strenuous hike to the Amanzituba Vlei area climbing from the hot bush-covered flats through a rugged range into the cooler highveld. Close encounters with two black rhino induced high adrenaline flow but otherwise we all enjoyed moving through bushveld that supported a full spread of African wildlife totally unaffected by human intrusion.
On completion of our bush hike we were pretty exhausted and very much enjoyed swimming in the therapeutic waters of a hot spring pool. I believe it is still there, close to the Kariba shoreline.
Standing: Eddie Wilkinson, PB and Eric Cary. Centre: Basil Green, Dave Thorne, Peter McClurg and Bill Galloway. Squatting: Keith Corrans.
Canberra bombers
NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT and the British Government had been ongoing since September 1956 concerning our participation in Britain’s defence undertakings in Africa and the Middle East. The Federal Prime Minister, Sir Roy Welensky, considered the acquisition of Canberra bombers important to the Federation for fuller support to the Baghdad Treaty signatories. Though this was opposed by a number of Federal politicians, negotiations with Britain for the on-take of the bombers continued.
The Suez Crisis delayed communications on the issue until Mr Duncan Sandys, the British Minister of Defence, wrote a letter to Sir Roy Welensky dated 13 August 1957 to say that 18 RAF Canberra B2 bombers had been earmarked for refurbishment for the RRAF. In light of today’s prices, the cost to the Federal Government of £18,310,000 for eighteen jet bombers seems remarkable. At the same time, plans were being made for RRAF Vampires to spend time in Aden to foster good relations with Britain’s Middle East Command and to prepare for situations of limited and global war. When ready to do so, RRAF Canberras would also participate.
The first flight of four Canberra B2 bombers, led by Squadron Leader Charles Paxton, arrived at Thornhill where they were met by a large welcoming crowd including the Air Force Commander, every man on station and many wives with their children.
This lovely-looking aircraft held special interest for me because my second cousin, William Petter, had designed it. His father had designed the famous WW II ‘behind the lines’ short-field workhorse, the Lysander, and William followed in his father’s footsteps. He designed a bomber that all the recognised aircraft manufacturers refused to take on. In desperation he eventually approached the English Electric Corporation who had not until then been involved directly in the production of aircraft.
Canberra B2 bombers at Thornhill.
In this group photograph taken in front of a Canadair, my uncle Squadron Leader Bill Smith (seated 7th from left) was OC of the transport squadron. Future OCs are Peter Barnett (seated 6th from left), George Alexander (seated 9th from left) and Mike Gedye (squatting 2nd from left).
Subject to design modifications to incorporate English Electric in-house technology, William Petter’s bomber was taken on and become Britain’s first jet bomber and a great success for the manufacturer.
As chief design-engineer for the company, William was also instrumental in designing the prototype of the Lightning interceptor. Later he designed a low-cost fighter that became the Folland Gnat.
Not only had the Royal Rhodesian Air Force strike power increased with the addition of Nos 5 and 6 (Canberra) Squadrons, No 3 (Transport) Squadron’s lift capacity was substantially enhanced with the addition of four Canadairs (DC4 M-2 Argonaut) aircraft, each powered by four Merlin engines. The Federation was establishing a fair-sized balanced Air Force and there were rumours that we would be getting Hunter GF9s in the near future. All of this was very exciting for the likes of myself!
The Colin Graves tragedy
AFTER THE FIRST CANBERRAS ARRIVED, No 1 Squadron was preparing a formation aerobatic team to participate at the ‘Elizabethville Air Show’. The reason for the Belgian invitation to our Air Force to participate in their great show at Elizabethville in the Katanga Province of the Congo is lost to me. Nevertheless the Vampires were to put on a formation aerobatics display and the newly acquired Canberras were to give solo and formation demonstrations.
As Squadron Commander Colin Graves led a formation team of four aircraft with Mike Reynolds No 2, Peter McClurg No 3, and Randy du Rand No 4. Norman Walsh was one of two reserve pilots and, though I led him on a couple of pairs formation aerobatic practices, I only recall him flying with the initial team of six on a couple of occasions. Then the team was reduced to four because of Vampire power limitations.
Colin had taken his team out into the flying area for some days before he felt ready to come to the airfield to have his prepared sequence viewed and evaluated. The results were pleasing and we all felt good about having such a team to show off Rhodesian talent. Most Air Forces around the world boasted national aerobatics teams of which the Black Arrows team (Hunters) of the RAF was closest to us by association.
However, there was an enormous gap between handling demands on pilots flying formation aerobatics on Hunters and those doing the same in Vampires. The Vampire’s power margins were really too small and engine response too slow for formation aerobatics, placing unusually high demands on pilots to hold a steady station in all manoeuvres. Typically a jet suited to formation aerobatics would have at least 25% power reserve and rapid response engines. The Vam
pire at best had 10% reserve with relatively poor thrust response to throttle.
The old Control Tower, soon to be demolished, incorporated an outside balcony that served as a perfect place from which to watch Colin’s team go through its routines. Together with others, I was on this balcony on 6 May 1959 waiting for another in a series of display practices when I happened to notice that Wing Commander Wilson was joining us.
Vampires.
Old Control Tower.
Colin had completed a barrel roll running across our front from east to west before leading the formation in a long sweeping climb to starboard during which the aircraft, all FB9s, changed from finger four to box formation. In this pattern and still in the turn, the formation kept coming around descending to gain speed for a loop directly in front of us.
Before the aircraft reached the top of the loop Randy du Rand, as No 4, had fallen back two aircraft lengths from his correct position. Immediately Wing Commander Wilson crossed the platform at a run and went racing off down the stairway. Most of us saw this out of the corner of the eye but thought nothing of it because our attention was focused on the formation.
In the descent Randy’s aircraft moved forward but overshot slightly, his nose coming under the leader’s tail plane as the formation swept through the bottom of the loop. As the aircraft pitched into the climb Colin’s aircraft dropped in turbulence and his tail plane was removed as it smashed through Randy’s canopy. This created a shower of flashing debris that seemed to stop dead in mid-air with the aircraft passing on. Without its tail plane, Colin’s aircraft pitched down from its shallow climb into a shallow dive then rolled inverted and disappeared from view behind a line of gum trees on Thornhill’s western boundary. A huge angry red fireball enveloped in black smoke rose into view a couple of seconds later.
We were staring in disbelief when I pointed to Wing Commander Wilson’s speeding Staff car. How he had sensed what was coming we could not say but from the start he had been heading directly for the crash site.
That the much-loved and respected Colin Graves was dead there could be no doubt and one was left wondering how the decision not to fit life-saving ejector seats could be justified on the basis of high costs. Compared to the loss of this experienced officer and father of two young children it seemed such a petty issue. But then our attention was drawn from the tragedy to a new situation. Randy, though still flying, was in mortal danger.
The impact with Colin’s tail plane had shattered Randy’s canopy. The thick armoured glass of his windscreen, still encased in its battered frame, had been pushed past the gunsight and lay across Randy’s arms fully exposing his head and upper body to high-speed airflow. This might have been tolerable had the visor on Randy’s helmet not been shattered too. Fortunately his oxygen mask was still in place and prevented Randy from an air drowning.
With blood being driven into his eyes by the airflow, Randy could not see a thing. Fortunately he did not lose consciousness, his mask and earphones continued to function and he could still move throttle and control column. Peter McLurg had seen the collision right next to him but instantly lost Colin’s aircraft when it pitched out of sight. Like Mike Reynolds, Peter moved away slightly but he kept his eye on Randy whose aircraft was climbing.
Peter knew that Colin had ploughed in and, closing his mind to this horror, switched his full attention to Randy who reported that he was blind. Peter moved in and became Randy’s eyes by calling his climb angle and telling him which way to roll to keep wings level. Holding formation on Randy, Peter asked him to start throttling back and continued informing Randy of his flight attitude, speed and engine rpm.
Randy du Rand.
Peter McLurg.
Randy considered bailing out but Peter McLurg insisted he was safer where he was and assured Randy he would guide him in for a safe landing. After discussion, Randy agreed that a wheels-up landing on the large open expanses of cut grass was safer than attempting to bail out or risking a blind landing on the relatively narrow tarmac runway. By this time Randy, now flying at reduced speed, could see just enough to hold formation on Peter.
All attention was on the two dots descending towards the airfield. Anyone not knowing of the drama in the air would not have guessed that the pilot of one aircraft could hardly see. Everything looked normal except for the fact that the aircraft were not aligned with the main runway. On short finals Randy’s descent suddenly increased towards high-tension power-lines running between the railway and the airfield boundary fence. He responded to Peter’s urgent “Pull up—check—hold it—descend—close throttle—start rounding out—a bit more—touch down now!”
Peter McLurg was overshooting as Randy’s aircraft bellied onto the grass. High friction pitched the aircraft nose down, lifting the tail so high it remained visible above flying debris and a great cloud of red dust. Having travelled about 200 metres, the aircraft went into a slow turn and was lost to view in dust before it came to rest facing back along the line of torn-up grass. A Staff car seen tearing across the grass paddock from the Tower disappeared into the dust cloud. When it cleared we could see Randy being helped out of his wrecked cockpit by the one and only Mac Geeringh; ever ready to help anyone in trouble.
An inspection of the crash site suggested that Colin had deliberately rolled his stricken aircraft to avoid crashing into a particular house. The engine had buried itself into the ground but three of the 20mm cannons broke loose and somersaulted ahead of airframe wreckage. In another house, a Rhodesian Railways man was fast asleep in his bed, having come off night duty. He was awakened by the loud noise of one cannon smashing through his window and driving sideways through a large wardrobe. It had passed just a couple of inches above his body. Two other cannons passed either side of the man’s two small children who were playing in the driveway. These came to rest at the back of his garage, one each side of his unscathed car. These were lucky people but Colin was not the only casualty that day. An old man seeking to give assistance died of a heart attack before reaching the crash site.
Prior to the accident, a routine medical examination showed that one of Randy’s eyes had become weaker than the other, but not to the extent that he could not pass the compulsory six-monthly flying fitness test. When he had fully recovered from the accident, it was established that the bang he had received on his head might have been the reason his faulty eye had returned to normal.
Air shows
FOLLOWING THE DEATH OF COLIN we received a new squadron commander. Squadron Leader Sandy Mutch’s posting to No 1 Squadron brought our OC’s rank into line with the other squadrons. He took over leadership of Colin’s formation aerobatic team and had it ready in time for the ‘Elizabethville Show’.
After this there were air shows in Broken Hill and Lusaka in Northern Rhodesia and a number of others in Southern Rhodesia. Each involved flying displays by all squadrons. My involvement with other junior officers was manning static displays of aircraft and equipment. It happened to be a very pleasant task because spectators showed so much interested in the aircraft. When the flying started I could watch every display from start to finish because all spectators were doing the same. There were two particular displays that stick in my mind. They were given by Canberra and Vampire FB9 solo routines, both at Broken Hill.
Squadron Leader Charles Paxton flew the Canberra. Like most bombers, this aircraft was not stressed for aerobatics even though, without the encumbrance of bombs and long-range fuel tanks, it could perform lovely-looking loops and barrel rolls.
Charles opened his display with a high-speed pass followed by loops and barrel rolls. Next came tight turns at very slow speed so that spectators could see bomb doors opening for a close look into the bomb bay. In the next turn undercarriage was lowered to show the sequencing of wheel doors and gear, again at close range. Two more turns were made with bomb doors closing and wheels retracting before full power was applied in the last turn which developed into a thunderous sounding steep climb-out followed by a powerless and sile
nt descending turn back towards the crowd.
Still holding crowd attention, Charles whispered past the crowd flying slowly with full flap and wheels down. At this point John Mussell opened his display with an ultra low-level, high-speed pass under the Canberra, flying in the opposite direction then pulled up into the loop that opened his sequence. John Mussell had flown the FB9 solo aerobatic display for some time before Bob Woodward arrived from the RAF with his own polished version of low-level aerobatics flown in a T11.
Charles Paxton (right) seen here with his navigator, John Digby (centre) and ‘Numpie’ Phillips, Station Adjutant.
Bob, who had been the top solo aerobatist in RAF Central Flying School in the mid 1950s, flew a close-in compact display at relatively slow speed that only pilots could appreciate because of the flying skills involved. John Mussell on the other hand flew to please the public. Flat out at full power he provided the noise and speed expected by all civilian spectators.
John’s run under the Canberra was so low that many people standing two or more rows back heard but did not see the FB9 flash by. The crowd loved the noisy surprise, which resulted, according to the newspapers, in two of Broken Hill’s pregnant ladies being carted off to the maternity home ahead of schedule.
Winds of Destruction: The Autobiography of a Rhodesian Combat Pilot Page 11
