Winds of Destruction

by Peter John Hornby Petter-Bowyer

  The Churchill School Pipe Band was well known to all Rhodesians for its excellence in Scottish piping dress and drills. So their invitation to participate at the Edinburgh Festival was wholly supported and the RRAF undertook to fly the band to Scotland and back.

  OC 3 Squadron, Squadron Leader Harry Coleman, captained the aircraft with Flight Lieutenant Bill Smith as his co-pilot. They were in for a Tough trip because the work of professional saboteurs showed up again. Just prior to crossing the Zambezi River on the northbound leg, the port outer engine had to be closed down due to total loss of oil pressure. This necessitated turning back to Salisbury where a standby Canadair was available to resume the long flight to England. Two engines on this replacement aircraft also suffered the selfsame problem as the first. Fortunately these both occurred in the UK costing much wasted time and money. The aircraft eventually returned to New Sarum safely and disgorged a very relieved bunch of pipers.

  Each of the three Rolls Royce Merlin engine failures occurred when high-pressure oil hoses fractured. The replacement engines acquired and fitted in England were fne. But back in Rhodesia all Canadairs had been grounded to find out why relatively new, high-quality hoses had failed.

  This led to the discovery that some hoses, all in different locations on affected engines, had been cut with a fine blade right up against the steel sleeve of a coupling. The cuts ran all the way around the lip of the coupling, penetrating two of the three braided reinforcement layers. The cut lines were so fine that they were undetectable until subjected to severe bending. The saboteurs knew their business because it would have been impossible for any technician conducting a routine pre-flight inspection to see the cuts.

  Returning to Harold Grifths. Hisfirstinstructor had passed him to me because of his cocky attitude. I had to agree that Grif seemed to be a bit too sure of himself, but I experienced no difficulties and found him to be a good student who learned quickly and few well. In time to come Grif and his lovely wife Linda became special family friends.

  Fire-fighting cock-up

  THORNHILL WAS OPENED TO THE public one Saturday for static displays of aircraft and equipment, flying displays, guard-dog displays and, horror of horrors, a fire-fighting demonstration.

  As Station Fire Officer I had to arrange a meaningful display involving a fuel fire sufficient in size to radiate enough heat to force spectators to keep a respectable distance. For this, a three-foot barrier in sheet metal was erected and filled with plenty of old tyres, rags and half drums of aviation fuel. Immediate upon ignition, huge fames shot up to considerable height with masses of fame, heat and boiling black smoke.

  First and second rehearsals by the fire section had the flame extinguished in quick order and Flight Sergeant Dumas assured me that his men would do even better on the day of the show. I had my doubts because experience had shown me that success in practice, with no hitches, often results in cock-ups and major embarrassment.

  At the appointed time, with everyone’s attention focused by the public address system, Flight Sergeant Dumas walked up to the tank and initiated the fire. Spectators had moved back from the intense heat as the main Rolls Royce fire tender arrived and firemen commenced connecting their hoses. Immediately my doubts turned to concern because I could see that the black firemen, with so many spectators watching them, were overacting in typical African fashion.

  As the fire hoses were rolled out to their correct positions, Flight Sergeant Dumas signalled the tender to provide foam. Seconds passed before a tiny trickle of liquid emerged from the nozzles where firemen stood braced for the pressure that failed to come.

  The flames got bigger and hotter with spectators taking a few more paces backwards. Some of the hose tenders left their stations to seek out possible kinks in the line when suddenly full pressure came through to the nozzles. This threw the men who had remained at the nozzle ends straight into the air before the hoses broke loose and whipped around showering white foam over everything but the fire.

  When the foam-soaked men regained control of their hoses and placed the gushing foam where it was intended, the fire went out. I was deeply embarrassed by such an appalling demonstration, but the crowd roared, “Encore! Encore!”

  Congo crisis

  DURING A VISIT TO SOUTH Africa, the then British Prime Minister, Harold Macmillan, had made his famous ‘winds of change’ speech in Cape Town. I can remember telling Beryl that he should have used the words, ‘WINDS OF DESTRUCTION’ because we could already see that the dismantling of the British Empire was doing no good at all to those African states that had been granted independence. Infrastructures were collapsing and ordinary peoples’ standards of living were declining whilst the political ‘fat cats’ got fatter and military coups became order of the day. But it was not only Britain’s Empire that was being given away.

  In mid-1960, chaos and savagery broke out in the Belgian Congo when the Government of Belgium handed control to unprepared black politicians. New names appeared in the papers—Lumumba, Kasavubu, Bomboko, Mabuto and Tshombe being the most prominent ones. Large numbers of soldiers of the Force Publique, who had previously been highly efficient and disciplined under white Belgian Officers, were suddenly leaderless and refused to take orders from any black politician.

  Throughout the country the gendarmerie broke loose from their barracks with their weapons and went off on a spree of looting, rape and murder. The outrages, particularly against missionaries and nuns, were widespread and unbelievably cruel in nature. Seeking to escape the confusion and threat to their lives, thousands of white refugees fled into Northern Rhodesia.

  Initial RRAF involvement was limited to the air transportation of distraught refugees from Ndola to Salisbury where huge transit facilities were established. After the last of the refugees had left, mainly bound for Belgium, the situation settled for a while but then it went from bad to worse.

  Moise Tshombe, who was President of the Provincial Government of Katanga Province, attempted to take the initiative to regain control of the situation in his province. Realising that the Central Government had lost control he sought to save copper-rich Katanga that, by virtue of its socio-economic and geographical position, could stand alone.

  Having gained some semblance of control, Tshombe declared Katanga independent which had the effect of drawing Katangese gendarmerie to his cause. Along with this came many white volunteers and mercenary officers to head the newly formed Katangese Army.

  Tshombe was known to be pro-West whilst Patrice Lumumba, head of Central Government in Leopoldville, was pro-communist. A United Nations force was sent to Congo to help restore order and for reasons known only to himself, Kasavubu—President of the Congo—had Lumumba arrested. Lumumba was half dead through maltreatment by the time he was dumped off at Elizabethville, in spite of Tshombe’s refusal to accept him on Katangese soil. Lumumba was murdered by Katangese villagers soon thereafter with Tshombe becoming the scapegoat for his demise. With UN attention now focused on Katanga there existed a threat to peace in Northern Rhodesia and the Federation.

  Federal troops and the RRAF were called to readiness though at no time was there any question of entering Katanga or any other part of Congo. Considerable political manoeuvring ensued and at one point it appeared as if Tshombe’s own initiatives might succeed. It was agreed that provinces would be given autonomy whilst Kasavubu’s Central Government retained a neutral stance on purely provincial matters. However, as has become common in African politics, Kasavubu ignored an agreement made at Tananarive in Malagasy and had Tshombe arrested at Qoquilhatville, the venue for a meeting intended to ratify the Tananarive Agreement. Tshombe was later released.

  Following this, a real tragedy developed when the so-called ‘peace-keeping force’ of the United Nations was used with the aim of returning Katanga to the control of Central Government. Yielding to a multiplicity of communist and non-aligned demands, Tshombe’s voice of democracy was ignored and the UN, whose real character became fully revealed, systematically bl
ocked all his efforts.

  The true colours of this world body were exposed again when, acting behind a screen of western press outcries at the building of the Berlin Wall, the UN implemented the most shameful abuse against the freedom-seeking Katangese people. Irish, Indian, Swedish and Ghurkha troops used appalling armed force. The Katangese soldiers were not willing to meekly surrender their arms however, so the bloody conflict that then ensued threatened to spill over the Federal border and the RRAF moved two squadrons forward to Ndola.

  A full-scale UN Offensive launched at 04:00 on Wednesday 13 September 1961. As a direct consequence, just four days later, the secretary-general of the United Nations, Dag Hammarskjold, died in an air tragedy whilst approaching to land at Ndola Airport for talks with Tshombe who was waiting there to meet him. Had Dag Hammarskjold lived, it is conceivable that some sense might have been brought into the UN’s Congo policy. Instead the situation worsened.

  Following a tenuous Ceasefire the UN force under Brigadier Raja of the Indian Army launched a second Offensive against the Katangese. This opened at 13:45 on 5 December. Canberra bombers of the Indian Air Force and Saab fghters of the Swedish Air Force bombed and strafed the Katangese airbase at Kolwezi the next day. All-out war had been initiated against Katanga whose crime had been to seek independence under its western-oriented, multi-national government. For its part, the UN sought nothing short of all-out control by the ultra-left Central Government.

  Incredibly this whole tragedy was largely USA-inspired for its own greedy interests in Congo’s minerals. In fact, successive US governments fully supported their corruptible puppet, Mabuto Sese Seko and for many years ignored his tyrannical rule and blatant corruption against his people just so long as US interests in Congolese minerals were met.

  Pilot training at Thornhill was temporarily suspended when all the instructors were attached to No 1 Squadron to make up pilot numbers for Vampire operations. For me this was a most welcome break from instruction. No 3 and No 4 Squadrons had already been operating out of Ndola and northeastern Zambia for some days when we arrived.

  A Central African meteorological condition known as the ITCZ (Intertropical Convergence Zone) develops in the summer months when warm moist ‘Congo air’ converges with the cool air masses driving up from the south. This creates a deep belt of rainy weather with low cloud that can persist for many days and nights.

  The ITCZ usually moved between central Congo and Southern Rhodesia’s southern border. During the time we were at Ndola for ‘the Congo Crisis’, however, the ITCZ remained almost stationary over Katanga and the northern sectors of Northern Rhodesia. This made flying difficult and even dangerous, as proven when the over-tired aircrew of Dag Hammarskjold’s DC6 aircraft crashed in line with, but way short of Ndola’s active runway.

  The crash site was discovered the following morning by one of the Provost pilots sent out to search for the missing DC6. The aircraft had been heard by all of us in the early hours of the morning as it passed over Ndola Airport on its procedural NDB let-down. But on the inbound leg for landing the pilot few into a 100-foot-high forested ridge five miles from the airfield. Inspection of the crash site, where a number of local charcoal producers lived within the forest, showed that the aircraft had met with the trees, wings level, in a shallow descent. Had the cloud base not been so low, the crew would have picked up the lights of Ndola and arrived safely. Instead the aircraft descended below the check height given on the International let-down chart for Ndola. However, a United States Air Force Jeppesen manual, found clipped open at the Ndolo (Congo) section, happened to be 1,000 feet lower than Ndola (Northern Rhodesia).

  Dave Thorne and I, flying Vampire FB9s, operated as a pair for the entire period of our stay. Our task, along with those of other Vampires and a couple of Provosts based at Ndola, was to make the RRAF’s presence known along the western Katangese border and keep an eye open for any trans-border movement of refugees and foreign armed forces. All flying had to be conducted under persistent low cloud, which in places was no more than 100 feet above the trees. This made map reading particularly difficult on our small-scaled 1:1,000,000 maps.

  Beyond the built-up areas, tarmac roads and railway lines linking the Copper Belt towns there existed nothing but a sea of magnificent tall trees that stretch for hundreds of miles in every direction. A few dirt roads were marked but no physical features existed to defne the international boundary line. In consequence we strayed across the border on occasions, once with Dave leading us as far beyond it as the rail-line just east of the UN-occupied base at Kolwezi. This was some forty nautical miles north of where we thought we were. Fortunately the weather was so bad that we seemed not to have been noticed.

  A second deep penetration occurred with me leading. We had come upon a large convoy of vehicles at the border post of Kasumbuleza. Having orbited to identify vehicle types and numbers I rolled out to fly along the roadway leading to the Northern Rhodesian town of Bancroft. We had flown some distance when Dave Thorne radioed “Cheeky!” at the same moment I saw the black smoke ahead caused by fighting in Elizabethville. We did a smart turn about and retraced our route to Kasumbuleza.

  It was only then that I realised that the road, power-lines and hills on the right side of the road from Kasumbuleza to Elizabethville looked exactly the same as those from Kasumbuleza to Bancroft. Considering there was no sun to give an automatic sense of direction, I had been remiss in relying on hills, road and power-lines without also checking my compass heading.

  When out of radio range of Ndola Approach, we often switched over to the Elizabethville Approach Control frequency to listen in on UN aircraft chatter. We had heard ’Tiger formation’, four Indian Air Force Canberras, a couple of times before something unusual occurred one morning.

  We had just switched over to listen to UN natter when Tiger Leader came up on Elizabethville Control, “Tiger, check-in.” Spontaneously the usual “Tiger 2”—“Tiger 3”—Tiger 4” check-in occurred. But this time it was immediately followed by “Tiger 5”—“Tiger 6”—“Tiger 7”—“Tiger 8”; all in typically Indian accents.

  The formation leader, showing annoyance transmitted, “Tiger, do not be playing foolishly, check-in”, whereupon Tigers three to four were followed smoothly by the phantom Tigers 5 to 8. The leader obviously realised someone was interfering so he instructed his formation to QSY (change frequency) to their operational channel.

  Next day Tiger Leader was bringing his formation back to base. Having come onto the Elizabethville Approach Control frequency the formation checked in normally and, sure enough, the phantom Tigers 5 to 8 checked in too. The leader ignored the interference and asked Elizabethville Approach for a QDM (heading to steer to base) whereupon the Approach Controller, another Indian voice, asked Tiger Lead for an unmodulated transmission. This is a radio transmission with no voice inclusion that allows the directional sensing apparatus to receive a smooth (unmodulated) carrier wave on which to sense.

  As Tiger Leader transmitted, screeching in our headphones told us that a second aircraft was transmitting at the same time. The approach controller told Tiger his transmission had been blocked and asked for another unmodulated transmission. Again the screeching of an overlaid transmission disallowed the controller from establishing a heading for Tiger Lead to steer. His directional indicator needle would have been flicking randomly around its 360-degree dial.

  This situation repeated itself a few more times before Tiger 2 told his leader he was low on fuel and breaking away for an independent recovery to base. In a relatively short time the obviously angry Canberra leader was on his own, the other Canberras having also broken formation. Two days later we heard Tiger Formation once more showing that all Canberras had made it safely back to base. By this time the 4 Squadron pilot responsible for interfering with Tiger Formation had been exposed and given a flea in the ear. He did not interfere with Tiger Formation again.

  The Katangese forces were fighting the UN forces with all they had and one co
lourful French pilot’s exploits came to our notice. We knew him as Max and I only met him once. He operated a Twin-Dornier out of a small bush strip, Kipushi, whose 1,000-foot runway was half-inside Northern Rhodesia and half-inside Katanga Province. Most nights Max got airborne for his one-man air war against the UN. Crudely applied green and brown poster paint seemed to handle the rainy weather remarkably well and the camouflage effect was excellent. He employed crudely made bombs that were hand-dropped through an opening cut in the floor of his aircraft. Using the gas flame that emitted from its high stack at the Union Minière copper-smelting plant near Elizabethville, Max made timed runs to drop two bombs off each pass across the blacked-out UN airbase. He ignored ineffectual searching ground fire and made run after run against unseen aircraft on the ground. His efforts were well rewarded; in particular the destruction of a UN Globemaster was high return for such crude and inexpensive effort.

  When he could, Max drank at bars in Elizabethville where UN forces were present. What guise he employed I cannot say but his objective was to find out how his bombing had affected the UN air effort and to glean whatever other information he could. In doing this he befriended a helicopter technician who agreed to take him onto the airbase and show him over a small Bell helicopter. Max’s casual questions were answered and he found out how to start the machine. He then awaited an opportunity to steal it.

  When the right moment came, Max started the engine and, never having flown a helicopter before, heaved the Bell into the air and wobbled and swayed into forward flight. There were no difficulties with the low-level bolt to the border and Kipushi airstrip. But landing a helicopter is no simple matter as Max found out when his attempt to hover for the landing ended in a big mix-up as rotor blades beat the airframe to destruction. Max survived the experience and was airborne again that same night in his Dornier to bomb UN planes.