Lined up in a north-westerly direction, once permission for take-off had been granted, the aeroplane’s throttle would have been opened slowly, as the Oxford had a tendency to swing to the right and careful engine management was needed to avoid this. As 65 miles per hour was reached, Gordon would have eased the control column back and the large trainer would have taken to the air. The outskirts of Bulawayo and then the city centre must have come into view out of the port window before a gentle turn to the right slid them out of sight again. Height was slowly gained in the warm, thin air and, with a final radio message to Kumalo, the two pilots were on their own.
Levelling out on a course of 080°, the two pilots would have settled down for the 90-mile trip to their first waypoint at Selukwe. Accurate instrument flying was vital, as the bush underneath stretched to the horizon and it offered few distinct features to aid navigation. Obviously, that was the point of these navigation training sorties.
Although small, Selukwe, now known as Shurugwi, did have a couple of features to help the two pilots identify it. First, there was a large, bare granite hill that had given the village its name, and, second, as a gold-mining town it had been connected to Gwelo (now Gweru) by rail. As it was the end of the line, this would have given confidence to Gordon and Walter as they waited for it to drift into view out of the endless scrub.
As the mining centre came into sight, Walter would have made himself busy with the handheld camera. The aim of this was two-fold: to give crews experience of reconnaissance as well as giving instructors a way of checking on their pupils’ navigational accuracy. Flying at 125mph, the Oxford was a stable platform for photography, needing little input from the pilot. Although the Oxford had a never-exceed speed of 270mph, this could only be achieved in a dive and 120–130mph gave the best fuel economy. Faster than this, the aircraft gradually lost some of its stability, especially in the fore–aft axis.
With the mining town safely captured on film, Gordon then turned 150° starboard, almost doubling back on his original course. This time the objective was Gwanda, another town owing its name to a nearby hill. Gwanda was the administrative capital of Southern Matabeleland, but, even so, it was home only to a couple of thousand people. Again the fact that a railway ran through the town, this time the Bulawayo–Beitbridge line to South Africa, would have given a good aiming point for the airmen.
Finding the small town, Walter again took a photograph from 7,000 feet before Gordon made his final turn that should have seen the two airmen back at RAF Kumalo within forty minutes.
They were never seen again.
SEARCH
OVERDUE
The flight should have taken about two-and-a-half hours to complete and the aircraft had a good fuel reserve, so there would have been little initial apprehension at RAF Kumalo because of the late arrival of Gordon and Walter.
However, when the Oxford had not returned by the late afternoon, the station commander would have been informed. With no reports of a crash coming in, though given the sparseness of the bush population this was not a great reassurance, the first step would have been to phone the other RATG airfields around Bulawayo to see if the missing pilots had called in there. This would not have been too surprising, a social call or perhaps mechanical problems might have led to a landing at any of the airfields in the area. However, calls to Induna, Hillside and Heany soon confirmed that the two pilots had not been seen. It would have been late afternoon by the time these calls had been made, and the early tropical sunset meant there was only time for a single brief search that evening.
The next day saw a hive of activity at all of the local bases as a full-scale air-search was organised. Initially this comprised loose formations of three aircraft retracing the route taken by Adamson and Edwards the previous day. When this produced no results, sections of three aircraft were then allocated points on the route from which they would conduct ‘square searches’. This involved aircraft following the missing aircraft’s course so far before turning into the wind and flying straight for four minutes. After a right-angled turn to the left, another four minutes would be flown and another left-hand 90° turn made. This time the legs would last six minutes between the ‘corners’ of the ‘square’. This would be repeated, with the length of each straight being increased every two legs. This produced a square ‘spiral’ centred on the original point, providing that allowance for the speed of the current wind was made.
Alf Eves, Gordon and Walter’s instructor, was one of many involved in this exercise. His log book shows that he flew five search sorties, each lasting at least three hours, in the days following his pupils’ disappearance. These searches went on for more than a week, with no sign of the missing pilots being found. This was especially hard for those who had been part of the same course and who had only a couple of weeks left before they were posted overseas. Friends of the pair, such as Harry Tait, searched in vain and would have a long wait before they found out what had happened to their comrades.
As the mystery deepened the RAF called in the British South African Police (BSAP), the police force for Southern Rhodesia. Their confusing name dated back to their creation as part of the British South African Company, from which they were formed as a mounted paramilitary force. This military association was still in place during the Second World War, with all the force being trained soldiers as well as policemen. Indeed, the BSAP were very proud of their position as the senior regiment of the Rhodesian Army. The war had depleted its manpower for criminal investigations and women had been admitted for the first time in 1941 to take the place of those serving in the front line overseas.
The BSAP posted details to all of its police posts in the eastern half of the country and its horseback officers sought information from villages throughout the region. However, they had no more success than the Air Force in their search. Gordon Edwards and Walter Adamson were, in every sense of the word, ‘missing’.
MISSING
OHMS 11.10.1943.
IMMEDIATE FROM AIR MINISTRY KINGSWAY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON ACTING SERGEANT GORDON EDWARDS IS REPORTED MISSING AS THE RESULTS OF AIR OPERATIONS 4TH OCTOBER 1944 ENQUIRIES ARE BEING MADE THROUGH VARIOUS ORGANIZATIONS AND ANY FURTHER INFORMATION RECEIVED WILL BE IMMEDIATELY COMMUNICATED TO YOU LETTER CONFIRMING THIS TELEGRAM FOLLOWS.
Air Ministry, London
12 October 1944
Madam,
I am commanded by the Air Council to confirm the telegram in which we were notified that your son, Acting Sergeant Gordon Edwards, Royal Air Force, is missing as the result of air operations on the 4th October 1944.
Your son was flying an Oxford aircraft on a training sortie and has failed to return. This does not necessarily mean that he is killed or wounded. Enquiries will continue to be made through official and local sources. As soon as any definite news is received, you will be at once informed.
The Air Council desire me to express their sincere sympathy with you in your present anxiety.
I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
for Air Ministry.
These bald missives were how many thousands of mothers found out that their beloved sons were ‘missing’, that terrible term that leaves just a trace of hope for those at home. Too often they would be followed within days by the final confirmation of death. In the case of Gordon and Walter the uncertainty would last a lot longer, certainly well into 1944.
Sarah Edwards received the letter described on the day that Italy declared war upon Germany, their former Nazi allies. She kept her news to herself and did not let anybody else know, not even Gordon’s father or sister. Perhaps she received a little comfort from a letter from the Officer Commanding RAF Kumalo, that described Gordon’s piloting ability as ‘well above average’ and that he was ‘greatly liked and respected by both his instructors and brother pupil pilots’.
Mrs Edwards was devastated by the apparent loss of her only son, and the lack of certainty did not help her state of mind. It might have been th
at she still had a glimmer of hope, and by not sharing her grief she was protecting her family until there was definite news.
TRIAL
LOBATSI
The plane had gone missing on 4 October 1943, and over the next two months the grisly tale of what had happened to the two pilots slowly emerged. By the 28 January the following year, a preliminary hearing was underway in the Magistrate’s Court in Francistown and the bizarre details of the case were making news around the world, even earning a couple of paragraphs in Time magazine. However, it was soon clear that the magnitude of the alleged crimes was so great that the case was quickly adjourned in order to be moved to the High Court in Lobatsi.
Lobatsi was the biggest town close to the South African border and was not only on the railway from Mafeking, but was also less than an hour’s drive away through the bush. The town had a largish European population, both English and Dutch, but was still little more than a one-street town. This street meandered through the pleasant rolling hills that surrounded the settlement and ended at the abattoir, where cattle were killed before being loaded onto railcars to make the journey down south. Live cattle were also processed in the town, especially as the cold house was now being used by the Army. The courthouse was situated at the opposite end of town and formed part of the administrative enclave. The District Commissioner shared his office with the court, which formed one side of a dusty open courtyard. The jail and police station made up the other two sides.
The High Court in Lobatsi, here seen unchanged in the 1960s. (Sandy Grant)
After further investigation the full trial eventually opened on Monday, 25 September 1944. Being tried for the alleged murder of the airmen were eight Basarwa. This group comprised three men, the alleged ring-leaders, and five women, who were understood to have taken lesser roles in the supposed crime. However, they were all charged with murder and would face the gallows if found guilty. The men involved were Twai Twai Molele, Tammai Mashupatsela and Keree Koetobe, while the five women were named as Bene Whange, Chenda Resetora, Anchere Maroto, Autwa Mashupatsela and Haukwe Whange.
The main officials involved were Justice K.M. de Beer, who was to hear the case in the absence of Walter Huggard, who usually took High Court cases, but was acting as High Commissioner in Pretoria, William Forbes Mackenzie and Vivien Frederick Ellenberger, both District Commissioners in the relevant territories, and Seitshiro Moshweu, who acted as the native assessor. Leading the prosecution was Edwin Ridgill Roper, the Attorney General. The 59-year-old Roper had been born in Queenstown, South Africa, but had worked in the protectorate on and off since 1937. He had served with distinction in the First World War, being awarded the Distinguished Service Order, the Military Cross and the Croix de Guerre before joining the bar in Cape Town. He would eventually retire in 1969 as President of the Court of Appeal of the Republic of Botswana. Percy Fraenkel represented the male defendants and Reginald Kelly the females. Fraenkel was an obvious choice for the defence as he was a very well respected lawyer from Mafeking, often representing the government in cases when the Attorney General was absent. Fraenkel was the senior partner at Fraenkel and Gericke, while Kelly was a partner at Minchin and Kelly, the other Mafeking law firm. Kelly had joined up at the start of the Second World War, but had returned from North Africa the previous year after the death of his brother. Two Batswana, by the names of Sebanana and Sedimo, were also to play an integral role in the proceedings, the former translating the defendants’ evidence into Setswana and the latter then translating again, this time into English. This strange game of Chinese whispers grew to have an increasing effect on the direction the case would take.
What follows is a day-by-day account of the trial as described in the surviving court documents. The main change is that the evidence of each witness has been brought together as a single narrative before any cross-examination. There are several reasons for taking this approach. First, it allows the evidence to be placed in a logical order as the many questions were asked out of sequence, with the legal teams jumping back and forth between certain points of interest. Second, in many places the evidence being given was hampered by either translation or a lack of suitable Setswana words – leading to much repetition and confusion. Finally, it allows a neat insertion of explanatory notes which, hopefully, will allow the reader a clearer picture of Botswana in the 1940s.
MONDAY 25 SEPTEMBER
With the courthouse packed to such an extent that latecomers had to make do with sitting on the hard dirt and grass outside of the main building, the trial got underway with the calling of the first witness, an instructor pilot from RAF Kumalo. He was sworn in with the usual formalities before he turned to face the Attorney General, who opened the questioning. To his right sat the defendants along a wooden bench, the girls with their arms around one another for support. Smartly dressed in European style, including hats for the men, they cut significantly different figures from the semi-nomadic Bushmen that had set out semi-naked on a hunting party nearly a year earlier.
Witness for the Prosecution –
Flight Lieutenant Ronald Payne
I am a member of the RAF stationed at Kumalo near Bulawayo. I knew both pilots that went missing and would describe Edwards as fair-haired and five feet ten tall, Adamson was shorter – about five foot seven – and he was dark-haired.
On the fourth of October 1943, Airspeed Oxford HN607 took off on a navigation training sortie and I hereby produce the flight authorisation book. Edwards was the aircraft captain and Adamson was acting as his observer. The course was Kumalo to Selukwe, Selukwe to Gwanda, Gwanda to Kumalo. The aircraft did not return and I did not see Adamson or Edwards again. When they did not return their kit was put into storage immediately.
The two pilots would have worn Khaki drill, with either shorts or long trousers being allowed. If flying at altitude they might have also worn jackets. Shirts might have carried rank insignia and both pilots were acting sergeants. If they were wearing shorts then their socks would have been khaki, with long trousers they could have been brown or black. If they were carrying money it could have been British, Rhodesian, or South African, as all are in common use in Bulawayo.
Around three weeks after the plane went missing we received a report saying that the plane had been found intact near Nata, in the Bechuanaland Protectorate, and on the fifth of November I accompanied Wing Commander Grace on a flight from Kumalo to the missing aircraft. We inspected the aircraft and found it to be in perfect condition. We refuelled it before flying it back to Kumalo the next day. Despite being in good condition there were several items missing from the Oxford. These included the compass, the Very pistol, the axe, the water container, the observers parachute pack, and the parachute canopy. It was a standing order that parachutes should be carried on all flights, so it would have been very unusual for the missing crew not to have taken theirs. The parachute pack or container is a metal-framed box about two foot by eighteen inches, covered in khaki canvass and secured with elastic bands. The axe is of the same type as the one in the courtroom.
It is interesting to compare Payne’s description of Edwards as being dark-haired to the surviving photos of him, and also to note the short and apparently routine description of the recovery flight. This was far from a normal trip and would certainly have been an interesting journey. Contemporary accounts describe Grace and Payne having to fly over the salt pan where the missing Oxford was several times in order to scare away a large group of warthogs. Wildlife in this part of Africa could be a problem at smaller airfields, let alone in the genuine wilderness of the Magkgadikgadi pans. And while hiking into the tame bush around Bulawayo had become a way of filling in time for many RAF crew, that would not have been any real preparation for facing the real thing – something that would have hit home when Grace and Payne came across a lion kill close to the abandoned aircraft.
The route of the final flight.
Flight Lieutenant Payne was then subject to a gentle cross-examination where Fraenkel, the legal r
epresentative for the three men, was very interested in the clothing the missing pilots were wearing. Payne described the leather flying helmets worn as standard, and indicated the ear and microphone attachments left in the aircraft suggested that these had been worn by the missing pilots. Pilots might carry other caps with them, but peaked caps were generally only worn for formal occasions – although many pilots felt it gave them a dashing look. The missing pilots would definitely have been wearing socks, he said. The missing Very pistol, used to fire flares, was described as being 10 inches long with a bore of 1½ inches.
Kelly, the defence lawyer for the women charged, then asked for details about the flight that went missing. Payne described the maximum endurance of the Oxford as being five hours, but in this case petrol was only carried for about three and a half to four hours flying, but that this should have been sufficient as the 400-mile exercise should not have taken more than three hours. Payne then explained that the aircraft was understood to have flown the first two legs of the flight without problems as they had taken a photo of the last checkpoint at Gwanda. If they had not turned at Gwanda they would have flown into Bechuanaland, but at a point much further south than where they were found. The aircraft was found about 250 miles from Kumalo and the area where it landed was one that Payne would have chosen himself in such an emergency. Kuaxaxa pan was a wide expense of salty dried white earth, surrounded by the customary scrub. It would have provided a perfect surface for an aircraft to land on while it was dry.
The Kalahari Killings Page 9
