Frank Mussell (standing), Flight Lieutenant Mick McLaren (nearest seated).
John Shaw.
The Operations Co-ordinating Committee of 1969. From left: Air Vice-Marshal Archie Wilson, Mr Ken Flower (CIO), Group Captain Mick McLaren, Major-General Keith Coster, Commissioner of Police, Jimmy Spink.
Operations within the country were low key throughout my time at JPS. From a selfish point of view this pleased me because I was not missing out on any excitement and anyway I enjoyed most of what I was doing. One task that proved difficult was briefing Ian Smith. JPS faced onto the Prime Minister’s Offices from which Ian Smith appeared on frequent but irregular visits for personal briefings on current operations. No matter how much the staff discussed the matter, we never once anticipated the difficult questions he asked at the end of his briefing and he seldom seemed convinced by the answers he was given.
The only bad incident I recall in this period was when the rotors of an Alouette beheaded RLI Trooper A.J. Johnston. He was the son of Air Force Flight Sergeant Les Johnston and was doing his National Service, which applied to all Rhodesia’s young white males. This horrible accident resulted in the helicopter’s destruction when it rolled onto its side as the rotors distorted and smashed the airframe. Fortunately, no one else was seriously hurt. The pilot had been unable to place all three wheels on the ground of a narrow riverbed whose bank sloped upwards on his right side. Only the right rear wheel had been placed on a rock whilst the soldiers disembarked. Trooper Johnston went out on the right side but ran up the slope instead of remaining where he was until the helicopter lifted. Great effort had been put into helicopter emplaning and deplaning drills for all Army and Police personnel to guard against such accidents, but not every circumstance could be foreseen.
Unrelated to this incident were some in which small dogs, troubled by the high-pitched noise of helicopters, ran yapping and snapping at the tail rotor that was the source of intense irritation to their ears. At least two that I can remember were chopped to pieces when they leapt up to snap at blades spinning at 2,001 rpm.
Paris Air Show
I HAD ONLY BEEN WITH JPS for about six weeks when summoned to AVM Wilson’s office. He wanted to know if I held a British passport. I did not; so he asked if I would be prepared to apply for one since he knew I qualified on the grounds of parentage. I told him that there was no difficulty from my side. However, being a staunch Rhodesian who had developed an aversion to most matters British, the AVM apologised for asking me to do this but said it was necessary because he needed me to accompany him on a visit to the Paris Air Show. In particular he wanted me to fly the Sud Aviation Puma helicopter to assess its suitability for Rhodesian operations.
Most of my time in Paris was spent with Ken Edwards because we were the only two members of the team of eight who were booked into a middle-class hotel. It suited both of us to be freed from the nightly dinners and high-level meetings with industrialists and French Government officials.
For three days we roamed around the Paris Air Show viewing large numbers of aircraft and visiting all the display stands to gawk at equipment we had only read about. I was alone and admiring a large model of the proposed Anglo-French Alpha fighter when a man of my height came next to me and asked what I thought of the design. I knew immediately that face and voice were familiar but only realised it was Britain’s Prince Philip in the middle of answering his question. A little earlier in the day we had watched the British and French supersonic airliners, Concorde, pass each other in their historic first meeting. Prince Philip had come to the air show in the British machine.
On our second day in Paris, AVM Wilson told me to go to the Yugoslav pavilion to collect every bit of available information on the Galeb jet trainer and its fighter version, the Jastreb. He said, however, that I must not let it be known that I was a Rhodesian. Although our French hosts knew exactly who we were it was upsetting to be regarded as illegal undesirables by all the other nations present. To present myself at the Yugoslav pavilion and pose as someone else was quite beyond me. I had received no training whatsoever in this line nor had I time to think it over. Nevertheless, I was under orders and did what I thought best.
My uncle, Wing Commander Bill Smith, was our Air Liaison Officer in Pretoria, South Africa at the time. I decided to use his name and address as my cover. When I introduced myself to the only man in the Yugoslav pavilion, he asked me for my business card. I apologised saying I had inadvertently left my cards in another jacket in my hotel room. He was hesitating over my request for specifications, prices, delivery, and so on when another man walked in. This was obviously the senior man who reached out to shake my hand as the first man hesitated in introducing me, so I helped out by saying, “Peter Petter-Bowyer,” then, “Damn it, I’m sorry,” and walked out.
Back in the Sud Aviation pavilion I was feeling pretty bad about my blunder when an AVM from the Pakistani Air Force walked over and introduced himself. His skin colour struck me as being too white for a Pakistani but he was such an open person that I used my correct name and let him know that I was a ‘rebel’ from Rhodesia. He was fascinated and, having told me he had no hang-ups about Rhodesia, ordered coffee so that we could have a chat. I told the AVM how difficult it was to try to act at being someone else and how relieved I was by his attitude towards me. This led me to telling him of my failure with the Yugoslavs. In a flash he called over a Pakistani squadron leader and asked me to brief him on my needs.
The AVM and I talked a great deal whilst awaiting the return of the squadron leader. He wanted to know all about Rhodesia and told me how much Ian Smith was admired in his country. When the squadron leader returned he was laden with everything the Yugoslavs could provide and said how excited they had been over ‘Pakistani Air Force interest in their aircraft’. AVM Wilson received the huge pile of documents in a manner that showed he never doubted my ability to acquire them, and I chose to leave it that way—until now!
The purpose of my being in Paris was to fly and assess the Sud Aviation Puma. This was conducted on a freezing cold day with the chief test pilot, Monsieur Moullard. None of us possessed the clothing needed for this unseasonal weather and I for one appeared somewhat overweight with jacket stressed over vests and a thick jersey.
Monsieur Moullard had to curb my handling of the fairly large machine when I attempted to fly it like its baby sister, the Alouette III. Once I became used to the larger cyclic and collective controls I was handling flight in a more circumspect manner and found the Puma was easy to fly and exactly what Rhodesia needed. It was obvious that, being a large machine it could not land in tight LZs, such as those suited to Alouettes, nor could it be put down too close to an enemy position. However, its soldier-carrying capacity equalled that of four Alouettes, which more than compensated for these limitations.
Unfortunately we never did acquire Pumas because, unlike the Alouette that had been produced for civilian use, Puma was specifically designed and designated for military purposes. The UN mandatory sanctions imposed against Rhodesia made the sale of such equipment to Rhodesia impossible—even for the French.
Participating in the Puma test flight were from left to right: Gp Capt John Mussell, Gp Capt Alec Thomson, Wg Cdr Charlie Goodwin, Air Cdr Jimmy Pringle, Mr Trollope (Sec Defence), AVM Archie Wilson, Monsieur Moullard, PB, Wg Cdr Ken Edwards and Henry Ford (Rhotair).
Board of Inquiry
ON 23 JULY 1969 I was summoned to Air HQ where I was instructed to head a Board of Inquiry into an accident that had occurred earlier in the day. This involved an accidental Frantan ignition in dispersals at Thornhill. Senior armourer Ron Dyer and I flew to Thornhill where we met the third member of the B of I, Justin Varkevisser. Varky had made a preliminary investigation into the occurrence and was able to give us background to what actually happened.
Cyril White and Prop Geldenhuys had returned from Kutanga Range with a Frantan hang-up, after all efforts to release the unit in the air had failed. Because the Frantan remained in pos
ition during the landing, the aircraft was taxiied into dispersals for a routine manual release. The Station Armaments Officer, Flying Officer Bob Breakwell, was on the flight line to meet the aircraft. With him were armourer Corporals Steve Stead and Ian Fleming. As soon as the Provost parked, but before the engine closed down, the armourers went under the port wing. Having removed the arming wire and ensured that the ground-safety pin was placed in the tail fuse, they prepared to remove the Frantan from the carrier.
Instead of using a stretcher-like carrier to bear the weight of the Frantan before Bob rotated the manual release mechanism, Steve and Ian put their arms under it. This had been done many times before but they obviously did not have a good enough hold because upon release the Frantan tail dropped to the ground. Immediately the fuse fired, thereby bursting the nose casing and spraying burning gel over Bob Breakwell. Because the weapon was static the main body remained intact and retained more than 90% of the napalm gel. Nevertheless some spilled and burnt Steve and Ian as they backed off.
Steve and Ian were extremely lucky to get away with scorched faces and hands. They were also able to shed their smouldering cotton overalls, which had given protection to their bodies. Bob Breakwell was not so fortunate. He ended up with third degree burns to most of his body. Although Bob had copped a heap of burning gel it was from his burning uniform that he received the majority of body damage. Not only did the man-made fibres of his summer-dress uniform melt intohis skin, his nylon socks did the same. But for his cotton vest and underpants, which prevented molten fabric from directlycontacting skin in critical areas, Bob would not have survived. Nevertheless he was in deep trouble.
Cyril and Prop were still in the cockpit when the Frantan ignited but, apart from suffering a severe fright and intense radiation heat, they were able to avoid the flame by exiting along the starboard wing. The Provost was burned beyond repair and stood forlornly over blackened concrete with blobs of molten aluminium outlining its position.
Bits and pieces of the Frantan fuse were handed over to us with the safety pin still in place. But an important component was missing. This was a soft metal dome that retained the 50mm steel ball that played a vital part in firing the fuse, irrespective of the attitude in which a Frantan impacted ground. The component was eventually located in grass a considerable distance from where it had been propelled by the igniter compound. The moment I had this in my hand I saw the deep indentation that clearly showed the Frantan had rolled slightly before striking tail down against the concrete. But this did not explain why the fuse had fired with a safety pin in position.
The burned Provost.
In my room that night I studied the offending pistol and fuse components comparing them with new ones. Though the details are lost to me now, I recall taking a long time to discover why the fuse had fired. In so doing I established that this could not have occurred had the Frantan not rolled to the precise angle it did. Next morning I demonstrated these findings to Ron and Varky and both were satisfied with what they saw. For the next four days we took evidence and statements from a string of witnesses and experts, including the Rhodesian manufacture of our Frantans.
Ron Dyer and I returned to Salisbury to interview our last witnesses who were Bob, Ian and Steve in hospital. It surprised us to find that all three were in the Lady Chancellor Nursing Home, the place where I was born. For some technical reason, plastic surgeon Mr Owen-Smith preferred to keep his patients in this maternity home.
As a WWII pilot, Mr Owen-Smith had been severely burned in an aircraft incident. His experiences in various hospitals made him determined to become involved with improving management of severely burned people and to undertake the cosmetic repair work that usually followed. I believe that, thanks to his wife’s hard work and financial support, he went through university in between many hospital confinements for progressive facial rebuild. He became world-renowned for his ability in his field and we all knew our Air Force fellows were in the best hands possible.
Ron Dyer and I were shaken when we first saw Bob Breakwell. His head was twice its normal size, completely ball-shaped and black. His eyes moved slightly behind burned slits and he could barely speak. His wife Joan was at his side where she remained all the time Bob was in intensive care. But for Joan and his cotton underwear, Bob would not have made it through the long and painful recovery process that followed.
Nextdoor were Ian and Steve, each with heavily bandaged hands, held high in slings. Their facial burns appeared like severe sunburn that made smiling painful but did not limit their ability to speak. Beside them were copious quantities of Castle beer, which they were required to drink through long pipes. They had orders to drink as much as they could manage.
Being told to drink beer for medical purposes was no problem to either of them but the consequence of doing so was the need to urinate frequently. Neither man could help himself and for some reason both had been refused drain lines, so they had no option but to call on the nursing staff to help them as the need arose. For this help they were prepared to wait, often in agony, for one or other of two coloured nurses to show up. They were too embarrassed to call on the white sisters who stood to attention, remained silent and stared into space whereas the coloured nurses talked and laughed all the time.
When we finally had all our facts assembled, I dictated the board’s findings and recommendations for Ron to record in his notoriously neat, easy-to-read, handwriting. Three thick files, the hand-written original plus two typed copies, containing supporting photographs and diagrams were submitted to Air HQ. About a month later I received a personal letter from Air Commodore John Deall saying the Commander had directed him to convey HQs appreciation to the Chairman and members of the B of I for an investigation thoroughly well done. So far as I know this had not occurred before, nor had such an inquiry been passed to the Prime Minister and cabinet to demonstrate how the Air Force conducted its inquiries.
Alcora
GOOD POLITICAL AND INTER-SERVICE relationships between South Africa, Mozambique and Rhodesia were being strengthened. The intention was to assess resources and develop plans for mutual support in the face of the mounting communist threat to southern Africa. Angola was obviously Russia’s key objective but exploitation of FRELIMO, SAANC, ZAPU, ZANU and other lesser African nationalist parties operating out of safe bases in Zambia and Tanzania were being encouraged through ever-increasing Russian and Chinese assistance by way of arms, advisors and instructors.
Joint military planning between the three countries commenced under the general codename ‘Alcora’. Several committees were established for airfields, mapping, radio communications, vehicle mine-proofing and so on. I was a member of the Alcora Mapping Committee. It was during the setting-up phase of Alcora that we received a large contingent of Portuguese political figures accompanied by senior Army and Air Force officers in what was called Exercise Cauliflower. Included in their itinerary was a large-scale demonstration in the farming area near Salisbury to show our operational techniques.
A wide valley allowed good viewing of a ‘terrorist group’ moving into the area and basing up on a small bush-covered hill in the centre of the valley. This was followed by cross-graining troops that detected ‘the incursion’ before a hunter-tracker group followed-up leading to a vertical envelopment by heli-borne troops.
Under the shade of msasa trees on a brilliant clear day, the colourfully dressed spectators sat in comfortable chairs on high ground overlooking the demonstration area. Behind the visitors, Army caterers were putting finishing touches to a lavish luncheon in a huge marquee complete with a bar that served every conceivable drink. Brightly coloured mobile toilets were dotted around giving a carnival appearance in this park-like setting. The whole spectacle appeared more like a royal garden party than one intended to deal with the serious business of bush-warfare tactics. There was a great deal of noise and smoke in the final stages of the demonstration and the smell of burnt cordite coming to the spectators on a light breeze generated a stro
ng sense of realism.
At the end of their three-day visit, our Portuguese guests said they had enjoyed a wonderful time and had learned a great deal from us. For this they were thankful and invited the Air Force and Army to send delegates to visit their operational area in the northeast of Mozambique. The offer was eagerly accepted.
It was at this time that Mr Clifford Dupont, until now the Officer Administering the Government, became the Rhodesian President. In 1969 the Rhodesian electorate had gone to the polls in a referendum to accept or reject a new constitution and to establish if Rhodesia should adopt republican status. The Republic of Rhodesia and the Presidential Office came into effect of 2 March 1970. This effectively severed our ties with Britain, or so we hoped.
The prefix ‘Royal’ was dropped. Along with national and other forces, the Rhodesian Air Force raised its new flag. Air Force rank badges bore the ‘Lion with tusk’ emblem in place of the crown. Aircraft roundels incorporating the same ‘Lion with tusk’ insignia replaced the three vertical assegai heads that dated back to 1953.
‘Lion with tusk’ emblem.
Visit to Cabo del Gado
IN MAY 1970 PETER COOKE and I were selected to visit Portuguese Air Force operational establishments and report on our findings. We flew by Viscount to Beira where we spent a night in the Air Force Officers’ Mess. Next morning we boarded a PAF Nord Atlas and flew to Nampula, capital of Cabo del Gado Province.
Here we booked into a mediocre hotel, which was the finest in town. Food and bar services were fair but the plumbing was something else. Peter’s bathroom and mine were back-to-back drawing off the same supply lines. Peter started pouring his bath before me so no water flowed when I turned on my taps. Once Peter’s bath was full, the taps in my bathroom flowed but the hot water had been exhausted. We were in no hurry, so I decided to order a Manica beer and wait for the water to heat up.
Winds of Destruction Page 37
