When Haile Selassie returned after the war, he placed the highest emphasis on schools and lines of communication throughout his country. Mrs. Ford helped reopen the schools. The emperor once again turned to John Robinson to help re-establish lines of communication. Selassie determined that Ethiopia must become an essentially air-minded nation. The terrain demanded it. Modern roads were terribly expensive to build due to the rugged terrain in much of the country. The Italians had built a few roads linking some of the towns but much of the coffee crop, the most important export product of Ethiopia, could take four weeks by donkey to reach the railroad station in the capital for shipment to the sea and international markets. By air, it would take only hours to transport the same coffee. Ethiopia needed John Robinson. Besides rebuilding the Ethiopian Air Corps, he was asked to lay the foundation for an Ethiopian airline.
Jim Cheeks said of the start-up training, “At first we stayed in a hotel. Then John was given a large villa some Italian general had built. We all lived there. It was very nice and we had a cook and two servants to take care of us, do our laundry, clean. The living was good.
“We went out to set up the flying school at what was called Lideta airport. We found the first class of eighteen students waiting. They more or less spoke English. It was a requirement for qualifying for the program. The problem was that at the time, there was only one aircraft to use for training. It was not a plane considered a primary trainer. Ethiopia had somehow gotten hold of a US surplus Cessna UC78. It had been used by the Allies for training navigators and graduate pilots in multi-engine aircraft. It was used overseas for liaison and utility duty. The Americans dubbed it the bamboo bomber because the wings and tail were made of fabric-covered wood. I think the civilian models were called the Bobcat. The fuselage was steel tubing with wood fairings and the whole thing fabric-covered. It had two 245-horsepower Jacobs radial engines. I mean, who starts a student out in a twin?
“All of us flew the thing. It was easy to fly, but we had to convince ourselves that we could take an Ethiopian kid who had never been off the ground and teach him to fly in this five-seat, twin-prop plane without killing them and ourselves. As far as I know, that had never been done since the Wright brothers. We decided to start with a mechanics course so we could rebuild the engines. After that we started teaching flying. Now you have to realize that teaching someone that’s never been in an airplane is difficult enough in a simple single-engine 65-horsepower cub. We started the first class of students at Addis Ababa in that twin Cessna with two 245-horsepower Jacobs radial engines. Most of them had never driven a car. Hell, we had a hard time making ’em wear shoes. But they were smart and proud and wanted to learn. They had gone through a lot just to be selected for training.
“There was another thing about the UC78. The plane did not have feathering propellers. It is bad enough to lose an engine with fethering props. The plane wants to yaw toward the dead engine. But if you lose an engine you can’t feather, the prop on the dead engine just kept wind-milling which produces even more drag. It had barely enough rudder to hold course with one engine wind-milling like that. It didn’t have a steerable tail wheel. You kept it straight on takeoff and landing by tapping on the brakes, right or left as necessary. Cessna claimed the plane had a ceiling of twenty-two thousand feet but would hold only three thousand feet on one engine. That’s not too comforting when you remember that Addis Ababa is seven thousand feet above sea level. Practicing engine-out procedures was some kind of fun I’m here to tell you. You can believe we took real good care of those engines. If we ever were to actually lose one in flight, the remaining good engine would rapidly get us all the way to the crash site. Anyway, we did it, and we did it without killin’ anybody. We were proud of the fact that we trained the first class of Ethiopian aviation cadets in that Cessna bamboo bomber. I don’t know of any other group of instructors or students who participated in such a program. We did it because we didn’t have a choice at the time. We took a bunch of kids that had never been in a plane, had never been off the ground, and taught them to fly in a twin-engine plane because it was all we had. John said we could do it, so we did. It wasn’t long before we got war-surplus light single-engine training planes from the United States and the British. But I tell you, I was proud of that first class.
“By the time our contract was up, we five instructors had trained more than three hundred pilots and mechanics. Many of those students became the leaders of the new Ethiopian Air Force—several of them eventually made general. No one was prouder of those students than John Robinson.
“When our contract was over, most of us chose to go home. The war was over, and compared to our hardship getting to Ethiopia, it was a lot easier getting home. Flying had come a long way during World War II and transatlantic flight was common. John accepted the offer to stay and continue to head up the new, growing air force. Ethiopia had, I believe, become John’s home. It was a tough decision for me to make. Johnny Robinson was my best friend. We had been through a lot together. He was a great guy. But it was time for me to go home. There were other things I wanted to do. I tell you this, it was a time, place, and experience I will never forget.” Jim Cheeks went on to retire after a full career with Lockheed Aircraft.
In 1946 John helped the Ethiopian government reach an agreement with TWA Airlines to furnish technical personnel and aircrews to fly a small fleet of DC-3 aircraft. After this agreement was implemented, John turned his full attention back to training Ethiopia’s small but growing air force.
In order to accelerate the rebuilding of his country, Haile Selassie arranged for scholarship programs at US colleges for Ethiopian students. The emperor knew he would need someone to help prepare these students for the cultural shock they would experience when they left Ethiopia for the first time to travel to the most modern country in the world. Again John helped. He suggested that Janet Waterford Bragg, a nurse, and a pilot in her own right, be contacted. Janet Waterford Bragg was the perfect choice. Bragg organized a sort of receiving depot for arriving young Ethiopian students. She would become affectionately known as “Mom” to hundreds of them. Many of them would arrive in the United States carrying notes to her from John Robinson. Years later, she recalled, “Some of the notes from Johnny had grease smudges on them, the mark of the ever-busy hands-on aviation instructor, head of the air force or not.”
John was busy. He was teaching, he was flying, he was administering the creation of a new air force, monitoring the TWA-operated Ethiopian Air Line, and he was happy. He personally taught Prince Makonnen, Duke of Harar, to fly. They became the best of friends, often flying together. John also gave lessons to Mrs. Ford’s son, Yosef Ford. (Yosef Ford would later move to Washington D.C. and become a professor of anthropology at the Center for Ethiopia.)
Then an incident occurred that brought home the reality of prejudice and politics to an admired and loved black man living in the oldest blackruled nation in the world. In 1948 Swedish Count Gustaf von Rosen, who had flown an ambulance plane during the Italo-Ethiopian War, flew a new Swedish Sapphire single-engine training plane from Sweden to Addis Ababa setting an aviation record. Von Rosen made an offer on behalf of Sweden to supply several of the Sapphire planes as trainers for the Ethiopian Air Force. The emperor accepted the offer and commissioned von Rosen as a major in the Ethiopian Air Force.
Von Rosen had an extensive reputation as a pilot adventurer. After flying a Swedish ambulance plane in Ethiopia (which was destroyed on the ground by Italian bombers), he went to the Netherlands and was hired by Royal Dutch Airlines (KLM). He met and married a Dutch woman. Against the wishes of his wife, he joined the Finish Air Force in the Winter War against the invading Soviet Union in 1939. When Germany occupied the Netherlands, von Rosen went to England leaving his wife behind in Holland. (She joined the Dutch underground and worked bravely until captured and killed by the Nazis.) In England, Von Rosen applied for the RAF but was turned down, in part because his aunt, Baroness Karin von Kantzow, had married Herman Go
ring, head of the Luftwaffe, and the fact that he had flown for Finland, which was allied with Germany at the time. Instead, von Rosen continued flying for KLM on the route between London and Lisbon. It seems that von Rosen, who was from a wealthy family in neutral Sweden, preferred the adventurous life of a mercenary pilot to family obligations or other pursuits in life. Some who knew him said that he wanted to live the noble life of helping the cause of the underdog. Others said that he did it to feed his enormous ego. Perhaps it was for both reasons.
In any case, when once again in Ethiopia, Count von Rosen let it be known among the diplomatic community in Addis Ababa that he was not pleased to be outranked by Colonel Robinson, a black American, and not happy serving under his command. It appears that his ego and aristocratic sensibilities rebelled against taking orders from any black man under the rank of emperor. Perhaps he was jealous of John Robinson’s reputation as a pilot and the acclaim he received from the emperor and Ethiopian people.
John was aware of the count’s attitude. Friends in the diplomatic community had informed him of von Rosen’s complaints. Nonetheless, Robinson persevered in building up Ethiopia’s new fledgling air force. He intended to do it with or without a jealous count’s cooperation.
Trouble boiled to the surface when Ethiopia was given a surplus American C-47/DC-3 twin-engine transport, which had to be picked up and delivered to Addis Ababa. (The pickup point is not known, but may have been at Djibouti or somewhere in Sudan or Kenya.) A C-47 normally requires a pilot and copilot. John recognized that he and Gustaf von Rosen were the most qualified pilots in Ethiopia. Their differences aside, John picked the count as his copilot to help deliver the plane to Addis Ababa. Von Rosen, curiously, insisted on flying his own plane to the pickup point rather than flying with John. The reason would become clear. Both men flew in separate planes, each carrying a pilot to return their planes to Addis Ababa.
According to witnesses, von Rosen refused Robinson’s order to fly in the right seat as copilot of the C-47, saying something to the effect that John should fly copilot because he, von Rosen, wasn’t about to fly second seat to an American nigger. Evidently von Rosen had insisted on flying himself to the pickup point for that reason.
John reined in his temper, putting the mission ahead of his personal feelings. Over the count’s vociferous protest, John climbed into the C-47 alone, closed the door, started the engines, and flew the large aircraft to Addis Ababa. During flight he was required to reach across the cockpit to perform a copilot’s duties of, among others, raising and lowering the landing gear and flaps, operating the radio, managing fuel, navigating and cross-checking the engine instruments, etc. while flying the plane. John landed in Addis Ababa ahead of the count.
When von Rosen landed, he marched into Robinson’s office and launched into a tirade that ended in a fight that was over almost before it started. Robinson broke von Rosen’s jaw and evidently the pride of Sweden. Von Rosen, after having his jaw set at the hospital, saw to it that a formal complaint was filed by the Swedish consul to the Ethiopian government.
Robinson was put under house arrest for two days. He was visited by Prince Makonnen, Mrs. Ford, Yosef Ford, and several friends including members of the diplomatic corps. Mrs. Ford recalled that John was perhaps more hurt than angry.
It seemed that more was at stake than a count’s broken jaw. The emperor sent an emissary to try and explain to John what the situation involved. Shortly after the war, John’s group of instructors received a few training planes through military aid to Ethiopia from the United States and United Kingdom. By 1948 neither the United Kingdom nor the United States were interested in providing further assistance. However, Sweden had a long missionary history with Ethiopia and since the end of World War II had established support, providing planes, parts, educational and medical facilities, and business interests. Ethiopia, it was explained to Col. Robinson, simply could not afford to lose Sweden’s support. Sweden had promised to provide more Sapphire trainers, Saab B-17 single-engine light bombers, and acquire more C-47 transport aircraft from the United States. Apparently Count Gustaf von Rosen had become the key to continued Swedish support.
It was obvious to John that this was no longer a personal matter. He could handle a case of insubordination in his command, but he could not compete with Swedish foreign policy and aid. John Robinson submitted his resignation from the Ethiopian Air Corps. Von Rosen was put in charge of the new Ethiopian Air Force John Robinson had built.
The emperor sent a personal communiqué to John asking him to remain in Ethiopia and continue development of the new Ethiopian Airlines. John was allowed to keep the villa he had occupied since 1944. His salary was to continue. He also remained an advisor to the Ministry of War.
John joined Prince Makonnen, Duke of Harar, in an import/export business and accepted a royal appointment to head the Duke’s new aviation school. John and the duke became inseparable friends. The incident with von Rosen remained a bitter memory, but John was still flying, the ladies still loved him, his friends stood by him, his income was more than satisfactory—life for John Robinson was good once again. But at home in the United States, Robinson and all he had accomplished was forgotten by all except for his mother and a few friends in Gulfport, Mississippi, and Chicago.
Six years later, on March 14 1954, an L-5 Stinson, returning from a mercy flight, radioed Lideta Airport with the most dreaded words in aviation, “Mayday! Mayday!” followed by the aircraft identifier and position.
On the outskirts of Addis Ababa there was a flaming crash. One of the volunteers, copilot Biachi Bruno, an Italian engineer, was killed outright. The mission command pilot somehow managed to crawl out of the flames before collapsing in excruciating pain. How John Robinson was able to extricate himself from the flaming wreckage can only be attributed to the strong will and determination that had carried him so far during his lifetime.
The staff of the American consulate donated blood to him. An emperor visited his hospital bedside. For two weeks the doctors and nurses did all in their power to save him. It was not to be.
On March 28, 1954, at age fifty-one, the Brown Condor, this remarkable hero, folded his wings. The brotherhood of pilots never say that a fellow pilot has died; they say that their friend has simply gone west into the setting sun.
The people of Ethiopia loved him. His funeral cortege stretched for more than a mile through a city whose population lined the streets to say farewell. John Robinson was buried with ceremony at Holy Trinity Church, Addis Ababa.
Ten thousand miles away in the town of Gulfport, Mississippi, in a house darkened by closed curtains, a proud, heartbroken black woman clutched a telegram. With her hands she laid the paper on her apron-clad thigh and smoothed the wrinkles from the crumpled yellow page as if by doing so she could rub away the terrible words. With trembling fingers, she placed the message on the last page of a thick, worn scrapbook, closed the cover and, holding it close to her heart, wept with the pain only a mother can know.
Another loved, lost airman, Antoine De Saint-Exupéry, once wrote of flying and cited the words of his fellow pilot and friend Mermez: “This landscape was still laved in golden sunlight, but already something was evaporating out of it. I know nothing, nothing in the world, equal to the wonder of nightfall in the air. Those who have been enthralled by the witchery of flying will know what I mean . . . those who fly professionally and have sacrificed much to their craft. Mermez said once, ‘It’s worth it, it’s worth the final smash-up.’”
And so it must have been for John Charles Robinson, 1903–1954.
4 One is on display at the Imperial War Museum in London.
EPILOGUE
Haile Selassie and Ethiopia
Ethiopian Losses from the Italian invasion and occupation
Ethiopia listed the following losses from 1936 to 1941:
275,000 Killed in action
17,800 Women, children, and civilians killed by bombings
78,500 Patriots (guerrilla fighte
rs) killed during the occupation 1936–1942
30,000 Massacre of February 1937
35,000 Persons who died in concentration camps
24,000 Patriots executed by Summary Courts
300,000 Persons who died of privations due to the destruction of their villages
760,300 TOTAL
In addition to human loss, Ethiopia claimed the loss of 2,000 churches, 525,000 houses, and the slaughter and/or confiscation of 6,000,000 beef cattle; 7,000,000 sheep and goats; 1,000,000 horses and mules; and 700,000 camels.
Haile Selassie
As was the case with so many small countries, Ethiopia was caught up the eddy currents of the Cold War between Western Democracy and Communist Russia. Because of concern over control of the Suez Canal and the Red Sea, which divides Africa from the Near East, Ethiopia was of interest because of its strategic location. In 1953 the United States opened a US military assistance group to aid Ethiopia in return for the establishment of a strategically important communications center in Ethiopia, the largest high frequency radio installation in the world at the time. The United States provided assistance to Ethiopia’s developing airline, built a new international airport and a university in Addis Ababa, and supplied the Ethiopian Air Force with C-47 transports, T-33 jet trainers, and F-86 jet fighters. By the late 1960s, the high cost of the Vietnam War caused the United States to cut non-essential military spending. The US communications center in Ethiopia had become obsolescent with the advent of satellite communication. As a cost-cutting measure, the United States withdrew much of its previous activities and aid from Ethiopia.
The Man Called Brown Condor Page 28
