Winds of Destruction: The Autobiography of a Rhodesian Combat Pilot

by Peter Petter-Bowyer

  I had bought Beryl the latest in sewing machines, a Singer Slant-a-Matic, but she showed no interest in learning to use it. Rather that let the expensive machine lie idle, I decided to try my hand at making clothes for Debbie then Paul and did well in both. Without having taken a single lesson I progressed to day-dresses for Beryl and then to her eveningwear. The outcome of Beryl’s evening dresses was very pleasing to both of us and led some wives to ask me to make dresses for them. Beryl would have nothing of this because of the way I handled her body during fittings. However, having satisfied myself that I could sew, I lost interest and thereafter only made curtains, box-pleated bedspreads and material coverings for furniture when pressed into doing so.

  I built a mould for the sixteen-foot power catamaran that I designed. This was done in a large lean-to garage I had built for the purpose. I was doing well with my project but needed another eight weeks to make the fibreglass hulls when I learned that I had been posted to No 3 Squadron at New Sarum to fly Dakotas. My request for a delay so that I might complete the catamaran was turned down and I never did finish it.

  My routine six-monthly flying medical examinations coincided with our arrival in Salisbury in mid-September 1965 when it was found that my hearing had been severely impaired by my job as Flying Wing Adjutant at Thornhill. I had become upper tone deaf from the continuous high-pitched screaming of Vampire engines whose noise was intensified by reflected sound off two walls in my second-storey office. I was grounded for six weeks with special plugs fitted in my ears until my hearing recovered to an acceptable level.

  In late October I commenced the flying conversion to the Dakota but soon realised I was being held back for reasons that nobody would tell me. Instead of flying daily and going on my first solo on type in the usual ten days, I was flying every second day. When the day arrived for my first solo, which had already been recorded in the Flight Authorisation Book, I was told to report to OC Flying Wing. In his office Wing Commander Harry Coleman told me I was being withdrawn from 3 Squadron with immediate effect because I had been reallocated to helicopters. My disappointment at not making that solo flight was great because I really enjoyed my limited time on the famous old ‘Gooney Bird’.

  Helicopter training for the first RRAF pilots had been conducted in France. The South African Air Force then took over this role and our pilots were trained on French Alouette II and Alouette III helicopters operating out of Langebaan Air Base near Cape Town. Air HQ decided to establish if we could train our own pilots in Rhodesia as this would bring about considerable savings in time and foreign currency. Flight Lieutenant Mark Smithdorff had undergone some level of training as a helicopter instructor so it was decided that, because I was an experienced instructor, he should try his hand at training me. If this worked out well, all future helicopter training would be undertaken in Rhodesia and I would become the squadron’s second helicopter instructor. However, my training was only scheduled to begin in January 1966.

  Catamaran.

  Chapter

  5

  Unilateral Declaration of Independence

  POLITICAL HARANGUING BETWEEN RHODESIA AND Britain had been ongoing since the granting of independence to Zambia and Malawi because Britain had failed to do the same for Rhodesia, despite her promises. Additionally, the British Government had undertaken not to interfere in Rhodesia’s internal affairs and had endorsed the need to retain the tribal chiefs. But again, both of these important issues were conveniently forgotten.

  In October 1964, many countries sent their observers to the biggest gathering of chiefs ever held in the country but Britain, supposedly the ‘responsible power’ for Rhodesia, refused to attend. Earlier, when the chiefs had sent a delegation to London to make their views known to the British Government, they were snubbed by Commonwealth Secretary Duncan Sandys and returned to Rhodesia deeply enraged by this discourtesy.

  Realising that Britain had no interest or knowledge concerning the protocols and needs of the African people of Rhodesia, the chiefs gave their unanimous support to the RF to proceed to independence under the 1961 Constitution, which Britain had already ratified. Then, on 5 November, a referendum showed that 89% of the largely white electorate supported the chiefs’ stance, thereby giving the RF authority to unilaterally declare Rhodesia’s independence. The decision had not been an easy one but the ever-changing stance of the Conservatives made it crystal clear that they had absolutely no intention of holding to their word. This was the solemn promise to Rhodesia of independence in exchange for her cooperation in dissolving the Federation; despite such action being in conflict with the British Government’s own recorded and declared principle that, “the Federation was indissoluble”. If the Conservatives were bad news, the Labour Party’s victory in October was expected to make things worse, considering the rhetoric of pre-election speeches.

  Just prior to coming to power, the new British Prime Minister Harold Wilson had made it known that the Labour Government “is totally opposed to granting independence to Southern Rhodesia as long as the Government of that country remains under control of the white minority." He had certainly misread things because Ian Smith’s RF Party, the chiefs and the electorate were dedicated to the retention of ‘responsible government’. It was from British politicians that racist definitions were generated; certainly not Rhodesia whose people had accepted the terms of the 1961 Constitution that underlined the undertaking of ‘unimpeded progress to majority government’.

  The track record of independent black governments in Africa made it clear to all Rhodesians that progress to black rule had to be handled with great care if the country was not to be reduced to a shambles by self-seeking despots. It was contended that we owed it to the black folk as much as to the whites to continue to build on the strong foundation of the country’s existing infrastructures and wealth and to develop a healthy middle class from which future politicians, black and white, would emerge.

  The possibility of Rhodesia declaring herself independent occupied Whitehall’s attention to such an extent that veiled threats of dire action began to flow. That the governments of black Africa and the communist-dominated OAU were pressurising Britain was obvious because, in response to every move the RF made seeking fair play, the Labour Party, like the Conservatives before them, simply moved the goal posts. Rhodesia’s need to take matters into her own hands to stymie the communist-orchestrated line was becoming more certain.

  It was in these circumstances that I was attached as the Air Liaison Officer (ALO) to Army’s 2 Brigade Headquarters at Cranborne Barracks, the old RAF wartime base. The military actions Britain was threatening and preparing for did not materialise, so the only real benefit of my presence at 2 Brigade was one of strengthening Army and Air Force relationships. This was my first full exposure to the Army and I enjoyed the experience very much. Brigadier Steve Comberbach and his Staff went out of their way to make me feel comfortable in their midst and willingly provided answers to all my queries concerning their procedures that were, necessarily, very different from those of my own force. With much time on our hands Major John Smithyman treated me to a series of sound thrashings at chess.

  During this period I managed to grab a ride in a helicopter with Ozzie Penton on a search for a large number of prisoners who had broken out of Salisbury Prison. The search ended up over a typical Rhodesian boulder-strewn hill of some twenty acres near Lake McIlwaine. Even when hovering close to the trees and boulders it was impossible for us to see any of the prisoners who were hiding under the boulders and in caves. It took dogs to flush them out eventually but the experience of rough country searches was something that I would become familiar with in time to come.

  On 11 November 1965 I was instructed to get to the Officers’ Mess at New Sarum before 11 o’clock. On arrival I found all officers assembled to listen to an important broadcast to the nation by the Prime Minister. On the dot of 11 o’clock, Ian Smith read Rhodesia’s Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI). He ended the presentation
with the words “God save the Queen".

  The radio was switched off and not a word was spoken by the motionless gathering, everyone buried in his own thoughts. Our loyalty to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II never faltered, though we all secretly worried that we would soon lose our royal title and with it the crown on badges and wings. When eventually this came to pass, I went to the trouble of visiting a photographer to have a portrait taken to remember my Queen’s Commission. Many others did the same because British Royalty was deeply revered by all of us.

  Portrait photo.

  However, insofar as Her Majesty’s Government was concerned, there was no respect whatsoever. Notwithstanding the unfairness of it all, we knew we were in for a torrid time from Harold Wilson’s socialist government and, through this, the world at large.

  Initial concern had been that Britain would take military action against us to ‘restore’ our country to British control. If this had happened, a modern-day disaster along the lines of the Anglo–Boer War would undoubtedly have resulted and South Africa may well have come to our aid, thereby creating a major war. A few Rhodesians may have scurried off to safety, but most of us would have fought with the blind courage and a determination that no British politician of those times would have expected. Unlike every one of our political leaders, the main Labour players had never heard a shot fired in anger.

  Preparations were made for the most likely course of military action, a paratrooper assault on one or more of our main Airfields. Thank God this never came because a kith-on-kin war would have been too awful. Later we heard that the Labour Party had come to realise that ordering British forces into action against their Rhodesian relatives might bring about their immediate undoing. There were even rumours that some well-known British Army units had made it absolutely clear that they would refuse to follow orders to act against Rhodesia.

  Any doubts we had as individuals about the British Government’s honesty were laid aside when Britain and America made threats of sanctions. Shortly thereafter, Rhodesian Hunter and Canberra engines inside Britain and those in transit for servicing by Rolls Royce were impounded, thereby creating an immediate and serious problem.

  Just prior to this Group Captain Slade, the RAF Liaison Officer in Rhodesia, was recalled to Britain. On his return, he told the British press that our Air Force would grind to a rapid halt. He gave the jets, specifically the Hunter, three months and suggested that piston aircraft and helicopters would all be out of action within nine months. Our reaction to this was: “Not bloody likely, we’ll show that pompous bastard that he is way off the mark.” Group Captain Slade unwittingly did the RRAF a great favour by dispelling any remaining doubts about Britain’s intention to destroy us and this engendered an overpowering will to surmount every difficulty that was laid in our path.

  In addition to Britain trying to bring us to heel simply to remove pressure from the OAU, ZAPU and ZANU continued their preparations for war. In Rhodesia organisations of all descriptions set about overcoming sanctions even before they had been officially declared. Anti-British feeling ran high, particularly amongst those who had fought for Britain and the Empire during WWII. Even dedicated whisky drinkers dropped their favourite Scotch and local manufacturers benefited from British and American commodities being removed from housewives’ shopping lists. Local manufacturers received full support for their products, even though these were sub-standard to start with. But in a relatively short time local substitutes improved and saved the country an absolute fortune in foreign currency. Familiar British trade names such as Heinz gave way to a host of Rhodesian producers including Cashel Valley products.

  Hunter.

  Rolls Royce engines

  THE FIRST ROLLS ROYCE COMPONENT that came up for service was an Avpin (volatile liquid that ignites under pressure) powered starter motor for the Hunter engine. With care the starter motor was taken apart, serviced and reassembled. Only one ‘O’ ring needed replacing at a cost of six shillings and eight pence. The starter was back in service in one day, saving months in time and thousands of pounds in shipping and servicing costs. This, and many more experiences in the servicing of components, built up enormous confidence. But then came the Rolls Royce engines themselves.

  In Air Force stores there were only a couple of reserve engines each for Hunters and Canberras. This meant that no time could be wasted when the first Hunter engine was removed for overhaul. It had to be stripped completely for an in-depth inspection of every component to determine what needed replacing. The engine then had to be rebuilt and test-run. My recollection is that Chief Technicians Brian Fletcher and John Swait were initially baffled when having to split the heavy casings of the awkward-to-handle jet engine. A galley was noticed but it disappeared into the bowels of the beast and, being curved, there was no way of seeing where it went to, or what was at its end. A medical gastroscope was acquired and having been run down the galley revealed a bolt head at the end of, and in-line with, the galley. By trial and error a flexible wrench was fashioned at Station Workshops and a series of sockets were manufactured by Chief Technician Graham Harvey who, eventually, made one to fit the non-standard bolt head. Once the bolt was removed, the engine was successfully dismantled. Whereas the engine was found to be in pretty good shape, dust and small stone chips from high-speed air ingestion had pitted the leading edges of all impeller and turbine blades, as is normal with any jet engine. Reference numbers were taken from the highly specialised blades and passed to the ‘sanctions busters’ to source and procure. All replacement components and primarily seals were inspected, measured and referenced, again for the attention of ‘sanctions busters’.

  Like these RAF Hunters of No 8 Squadron seen over the Kariba dam wall on a visit in happier times, Rhodesia’s Hunters just kept flying.

  No component on the first engine gave cause for concern, so it was reassembled and satisfactorily test-run. It was then returned to service at 30% of its normal time between services to establish in-flight performance and gauge rates of wear and deterioration when the next major service was undertaken. The engine performed normally, giving confidence for the next engine strip-down. By the time the third Hunter engine was handed over to Engine Refurbishment Section (ERS), all essential spares had been acquired. Although these had been sourced at considerable cost the overall savings to Rhodesia, vis à vis the Rolls Royce route, were substantial. Just as important were the quick turn-around times that rendered our small reserve of engines adequate for our needs.

  Canberra engines followed a similar path to that of Hunters and high levels of sophistication developed rapidly. First-class engine-handling rigs made maintenance technicians’ work easier and safer. Purpose-made tools were manufactured in-house for difficult tasks such as the removal and replacement of turbine blades. Women were brought into ERS and did a wonderful job alongside the men. They all took great pride in turning out engines that ran more smoothly than those previously received from Rolls Royce. Much of this was due to purpose-built balancing rigs to trim each rotating assembly meticulously for vibrationless operation. Inadvertently the British Labour Government had made us more than self-sufcient and our jets were never limited for the want of engines.

  Not long after receiving the Canberra B2 bombers, the Royal Rhodesian Air Force had asked Rolls Royce if compressed air could be used to start Canberra engines instead of the large cordite cartridges that powered starter motors. Rolls Royce considered the issue but assured our Air Force that this was an absolute impossibility. However, with the difficulties we faced after 1965, our technicians decided to do what Britain’s top engineers had said was impossible. They not only succeeded in developing an adapter to make the cartridge starter function from high-volume-flow compressed air, they also retained starter motors’ ability to use cartridges when operating from places where large compressed air bottles were unavailable. The system served us for fifteen years with enormous cost savings. A similar system was used to start the Hunter Avon 207 but was discarded because of the
need to have an airline permanently fitted in the air intake.

  No 7 Squadron

  SQUADRON LEADER OZZIE PENTON WAS coming to the end of his tour as OC 7 Squadron when I joined him for the second time. He was to be replaced by John Rogers who was then undergoing his helicopter conversion with the South African Air Force.

  On the last day of January 1966 I flew my first training flight in an Alouette III with Mark Smithdorff. I cannot say I enjoyed flying helicopters initially because it was so different from fixed-wing flying. In forward flight the aircraft felt and handled in typical fixed-wing fashion though the controls were very sensitive, almost too sensitive in fact.

  Apart from the difficulties in learning to hover, I found descending turns with the speed falling off very disconcerting because I was expecting the helicopter to stall and flick over like any fixed-wing aircraft would do. It took time to accept that all flying speed was in the fast-turning rotor blades. Once I had overcome the instinctive fear of stalling, helicopter flying became a little more enjoyable but learning continued to be hard work.

  Kyle Dam.

  Once I had flown solo and gained confidence from many entries into the tightest of landing places with high trees or rocks all around, helicopter flying became progressively easier. It took time for my brain to adjust to new flight sensations and make arms, legs and eyes co-ordinate automatically. Thereafter flying a helicopter became more enjoyable than fixed-wing. I found low-level map-reading particularly demanding and a great deal of practice was needed to master the art. Even at the relatively slow speed of 95 knots flying 100 feet above ground, the aircraft crossed over 1:50,000 scale maps very fast. The need to change maps quickly was made difficult by the fact it had to be accomplished with the left hand only because at no time could one let go of the cyclic control. With open doors the problem was compounded by air turbulence that could whip one’s map through the rear door in a flash.