The Kalahari Killings

by Jonathan Laverick

  Incidents like this meant that Rey had little respect for Tshekedi Khama, whom he held responsible for the treatment of the people under his jurisdiction. Despite his own authoritarian streak, Rey had a firm belief in the equality of man and had little time for the racial policies being enacted in South Africa. He seems to have had a genuine concern for the local population. He worried that they were not always well served by their chiefs, some of whom he considered to be ‘autocratic, half-educated, and to some extent, thoroughly rotten’. Tshekedi Khama was also a strong personality and not one to let go of grudges. Following an attempted shooting, he had expelled two men from Serowe and confiscated their property. When he was found to have acted illegally, Tshekedi took his case all the way to the Privy Council, against Rey’s advice. The most serious case of Tshekedi and Rey locking horns was over the ‘McIntosh Incident’ which caused the deployment of a Royal Naval detachment to the edge of the Kalahari, nearly 1,000 miles inland.

  Phinehas Macintosh was a white trader in Serowe with a bad reputation for an alcohol-fuelled interest in native girls. During one dispute he struck a black rival in an argument over a particular girl. Under the law of the land, Europeans were only to be tried by the British administration, local chiefs being barred from administering justice to white men. Claiming that previous complaints against McIntosh had been ignored, Tshekedi Khama took matters into his own hands and had the trader flogged. Rey, who was already developing plans to reduce the chief’s powers, was not amused. Having recently had problems with a headman where policemen had been manhandled, Rey decided that a show of force was required if action was to be taken against Tshekedi. Given that the whole administration of the protectorate numbered less than 300 men, only forty of whom were non-native, Rey decided to send for reinforcements. One hundred and sixty-five marines were boarded onto a train on the South African coast, complete with field guns. That, Rey felt, would be more than enough to deal with the ‘poisonous little rat’.

  Tshekedi was summoned from Serowe to the racecourse at Palapye where he claimed that he had the authority to try who he wanted. The response from the British was to suspend his chieftainship and banish him to Francistown. This was done in front of the arrayed marines. The Bangwato refused to elect another chief and Rey was accused by some in London of acting with excessive force. Eventually both men backed down, and, after an apology, Tshekedi was reinstated.

  Rey was very keen to modernise the protectorate and he had many schemes to do this. He worked hard to increase the export of cattle, overcoming South African obstacles and opening new trade routes to the north. He developed cold stores and creameries in Francistown and Lobatsi. These were part of a scheme to encourage native production and export of butter. He had grand plans for a trans-Kalahari railway, both to open up new business and also to by-pass South Africa. Under his rule the first regular air services into and around the protectorate were initiated, including flights from Johannesburg to Maun. Twice the protectorate won first place at trade shows in Johannesburg; the second time the impressive display included fresh produce flown in from Bechuanaland. A national radio station was set up and run. He was also interested in getting mines into the areas Tshekedi had banned them from.

  A combination of meeting these aims and improving the lives of the common people led Rey to look at how the Batswana chiefs’ powers could be reduced. Up until this point, the chiefs had been left to rule their territories with minimal interference and oversight. Rey wanted to introduce an element of democracy to the tribal system by setting up tribal councils, chosen by the kgotla or village meeting, to assist chiefs in their rule. The chiefs could only rule with the approval of the council and the British, otherwise they risked being removed. New law courts would be set up. These would still be run by headmen and chiefs, but records had to be kept and decisions could now be appealed to the British District Commissioner. While Rey saw these as protecting the people, many others saw it as an assault on Batswana tradition and custom. Tshekedi saw it as a direct assault on his power and led the chiefs against these ‘Native Proclamations’. Tshekedi failed initially and they were implemented in 1934. Two years of legal challenges followed, but the proclamations stood even though they were not always followed. Throughout his battles with Rey, Tshekedi made very good use of the media, often using the London Missionary Society to get his side of the story to London quicker than it was possible through Rey’s official channels. By the time Rey left in 1937, Bechuanaland had developed quicker than in any other period of its history and, through his successes and failures, it was well and truly on the map.

  Rey’s successor, Charles Arden-Clarke, saw the territory return to drifting along. Many of Rey’s schemes went unfinished or were left unused. The cold house at Lobatsi fell into disrepair and the radio station was closed down. Arden-Clarke did work with the chiefs to make the proclamations more acceptable to them, meaning a return to more centralised power in the hands of the chiefs. In return, Arden-Clarke made a promise that the protectorate would not be handed over to South Africa. In addition, he set up Botswana’s first Board of Education. With hindsight, these were some of the reasons that by the start of the war the chiefs were still pro-British.

  EGYPT, 1942

  They sent us out to Egypt

  A very pleasant land

  Where miles and miles of sweet FA

  Are covered up with sand

  Gordon Edwards could hardly have helped but to sing along with the latest ditty doing the rounds. He had followed 134 Squadron out to the land of the pharaohs only to find that there were no aeroplanes for the squadron to fly. Another gremlin in the service system.

  No. 134 Squadron had returned from Russia, having handed over their Hurricanes to the Russian Navy, and had re-equipped at RAF Catterick, next to the Great North Road in North Yorkshire. This was the second time Gordon had seen his pilots trade in Hurricanes for the much sexier Spitfires. A few pilots still claimed to miss the sturdy Hawker aircraft, but most saw their time in Russia as deserving of the new sleeker aeroplanes. To the ground crew it made little difference, but being part of a Spitfire squadron had a certain gloss when visiting the local pubs on a Saturday night. Even the north-eastern weather could not spoil Christmas 1941.

  As soon as the squadron was comfortable on the new mounts they were moved again, this time to Northern Ireland. This had the benefit, from the mechanics’ point of view, of little chance of action, not to mention noticeably more farm produce on the mess tables. The pilots no doubt resented being far away from the action, and they cannot have been pleased when some of their new Spitfires were replaced by battle-weary Hurricanes. However, the whole squadron had perked up at the news of a posting to warmer climes.

  Once again Gordon found himself on a passenger liner, this time bound for Egypt. Due to the situation in the Mediterranean, this meant a very long trip around the Cape of Good Hope. This did have the benefit of a few stolen nights ashore in South Africa, at this time of the year colder than most of the RAF members would have believed. The weather was not on the minds of many who got off the boat, though. It is not known how many fatherless children were left in the ports of Cape Town and Durban. Perhaps the effects of a lively society far away from the troubles in Europe on men who had not seen a city lit up at night for nearly three years can be understood. After a very good time, the RAF personnel had now to leave and sail on to Egypt. As they left the harbour in Durban they passed the lady in white, singing through her megaphone to comfort every leaving ship.

  Upon arrival in Egypt, Gordon found himself with his squadron at RAF Kasfareet on the banks of the Suez Canal, but of the expected Hurricanes there was no sign. After a short delay the Middle East Command decided that the pilots should be sent to other operational units and that the ground crew was to be used as a servicing squadron. Kasfareet was a well equipped base with few of the problems that faced front-line bases. It had a good water supply and its own cinema with daily showings. In 1942 these included such hits as
Too Hot to Handle with Clarke Gable, Miss Fix It headed by Jane Withers and Gloria Stuart, and the unmissable Young Dr Kildare. However, it was still very hot and flies were a constant source of annoyance. Several airmen kept pet chameleons that were not only cute and exotic, but, as one airman put it, ‘very useful for picking flies off your stomach as you lay on your bed’.

  By the time Gordon had settled in, the Middle East had seen battles rage back and forth along the northern coast of Africa for nearly a year and a half. Italy’s entry to the war in mid-1940 had seen numerous small-scale skirmishes with British forces based in Egypt. However, August 1940 saw the Italians make a serious push into Egypt under Marshal Graziani that was only ended when his logistical supplies became stretched. The British, along with Indian and Australian troops, counter-attacked in December, advancing hundreds of miles and capturing 130,000 Italian troops. This led Anthony Eden to quip, ‘Never has so much been surrendered by so many to so few.’ This assault and counter-assault, combined with stretched supply lines, set the pattern for the conflict.

  Gordon Edwards (right) enjoys an off-duty stroll around Kasfareet. (Edwards family)

  While the British lost much equipment and many valuable men in the battles for Greece and Crete, the Germans came to the rescue of their Italian allies in Libya with the formation of the Afrika Korps under the brilliant Erwin Rommel. The charismatic German soon won back the ground Graziani had lost, with only the port city of Tobruk offering unwavering resistance. The formation of the British Eighth Army in September 1941 under Lieutenant-General Alan Cunningham saw the creation of the most diverse fighting force the world had ever seen, with soldiers from more than thirty countries among its ranks. This amalgamation of so many diverse forces soon proved its worth, pushing Rommel back and lifting the siege of Tobruk. This was the situation when Gordon arrived in Egypt.

  In June 1942, with the British in the process of preparing an offensive, Rommel struck and pushed the Eighth Army back to El Alamein, deep within Egyptian territory. Having already gone through several commanders, General William Gott was given the job of leading the Eighth’s latest counter-attack. Unfortunately, before he could take up his post the lumbering Bristol Bombay transport he was flying in was shot down by Bf 109s of Jagdgeschwader 27. Even though the pilot had made a good forced landing, the German pilots strafed the crashed aeroplane, killing all those still inside. This apparent disaster led to the appointment of Lieutenant-General Bernard Montgomery who patiently prepared his forces for what many would later consider the turning point of the war. The second Battle of Alamein in October 1942 was the beginning of an offensive that would eventually drive Axis forces from the African continent. As Montgomery pushed westward, Operation Torch landed Allied troops in Tunisia, meaning that Rommel was caught in a huge pincer movement.

  With the creation of the Desert Air Force (DAF), the Royal Air Force played a significant role in these victories. Similar to the Eighth Army, the nominally British DAF was a diverse group, with squadrons from many countries. South Africa in total provided more than a dozen squadrons, roughly a third of the force’s total strength at any one time. Gordon’s entrance on the scene coincided with a rapid expansion of the DAF. The twelve months from October 1941 saw the number of flying units expand from sixteen to twenty-nine squadrons. This period also saw an improvement in equipment, including the arrival of the first Spitfires to the region. This meant that for the first time the DAF had fighters that could match the Luftwaffe’s Messerschmitts in air combat. Until that point, the use of obsolete aircraft had meant the DAF had suffered high losses, unable to out-fly, out-climb or out-pace the Bf 109s of Jadgdeschwader 27. Pilots did have much better luck against the often biplane-equipped Italians.

  However, Gordon was well aware that the Germans and Italians were by no means the biggest danger to aircrew. To force-land in the desert was often a death sentence, and a particularly unpleasant one at that. Surrounded by hundreds of miles of hostile terrain, some of the driest and harshest on the planet, it was a lucky pilot indeed that was rescued. Often it was only mummified remains and desperate last words that were found. The case of Sergeant Mikolajczak was one that stuck in Gordon’s mind. A Polish pilot who had been forced to land his fighter due to mechanical failure, he had left notes detailing his final painful hours. Knowing that he was dying, he had a chance to say goodbye to his family and his beloved Poland. He had tried to walk out of the desert but, when he had gone as far as he physically could, he had been forced to return to his grounded aircraft, eight hours of energy wasted walking through featureless desert. The last two entries provide a haunting reminder of the dangers of the Sahara:

  Time 1200 hours, 10th May. It is terribly hot, I drink, or rather I lick my scanty sweat. I am suffering terribly.

  1345 hours – I hear an aircraft flying to the south my right, my last hope, I cannot get up to have a look. My last minutes. God have mercy on me.

  The Desert Air Force provided vital air support to the troops on the ground, a role suited to P-40 Kittyhawks and to specialist aircraft like the tank-busting Hurricane Mk.IID. This version of the tried and trusted Hawker aeroplane was equipped with two massive 40mm cannon that devastated Axis vehicles, even heavily armoured Panzers. No. 6 Squadron earned the nickname ‘The Tin Openers’ flying these machines. The DAF pioneered the role of the Forward Air Controller, embedding RAF personnel in Army units to direct air attacks via radio. This tactic was combined with the use of ‘cab ranks’ of fighter-bombers that would orbit in the air until called into action.

  The fact that the battle for North Africa swung back and forth so much meant that considerable equipment was captured. This ranged from the acquirement of thousands of precious jerry cans, which were much better designed than their British equivalents, to the securing of entire aircraft. South African Staff Sergeant George O’Neill was one of those involved in the recovery of German aircraft from overrun airfields, as well as those shot down. His photo album shows captured Bf 109 fighters, Stuka dive bombers, Gotha Go 242 gliders, and even a Dornier Do 24 flying boat that was literally grounded in the desert. It was not just those on the ground that were involved in these recoveries, as highlighted by the case of the ‘Stolen Stuka’. After a squadron of Italian Ju 87 Stukas had apparently made forced landings in the desert, Wing Commander Bowman and Squadron Leader Rozier were sent out to try and fly one back for evaluation purposes. After two days of adventure, they returned to base with their prize, complete with a naval officer in the gunner’s position. The latter, a destroyer commander, had decided to spend his leave in the desert ‘having a look around’!

  Captured, but wrecked, German Me 109s of Jagdgeschwader 27 at El Daba. (Staff Sergeant George O’Neill)

  A rare sight in the desert, a Dornier Do-24. (Staff Sergeant George O’Neill)

  A Ju-87 Stuka at El Daba. (Staff Sergeant George O’Neill)

  For more mundane aeroplanes, the RAF had several aircraft recovery sections that would go out into the desert to retrieve downed aircraft so they could either be returned to service or stripped for spares. These units were equipped with Bedford ‘Queen Mary’ transporters that could carry most aircraft once their wings had been removed, these being stored lengthwise on the lorry, alongside the fuselage. These trips into the desert were not risk free and were often given either Army or RAF Regiment escorts. The difficult terrain and extensive use of minefields by both sides made their task difficult enough without the chance of coming across an enemy patrol. The recovered airframes were returned to Maintenance Units where aircraftmen like Gordon would assess their condition before making a decision on whether they could be returned to the air. It is possible that Gordon came across Batswana troops here for the first time as several dozen of the volunteers from Bechuanaland worked in aircraft recovery sections, either as mechanics or drivers.

  In addition to repairing downed aircraft, the usual task of maintaining those in squadron service had to be continued. Much work was done on their home airfields,
but for more serious repairs or overhauls these aircraft too would be sent to the Maintenance Units. Occasionally damaged aircraft would be flown to these units to be repaired. This was the case of the P-40 flown by Flight Sergeant Dennis Copping. The Kittyhawk took off for the Maintenance Unit in June 1942 with an unserviceable compass one of the items on the list to be repaired. That was the last the world saw of the 24-year-old pilot. Seventy years later a Polish oil worker found his perfectly preserved aeroplane in the Libyan Desert. It appeared that Copping set off to walk, but, with the nearest town 200 miles away, it was an impossible task. The desert had claimed another victim.

  Eventually 134’s new Hurricanes arrived in Egypt, only seven months after the rest of the squadron. This meant that most of the ground crew were reunited with their unit. However, Gordon had by this time moved on. Bored by Egypt, and not having a real squadron to work with, he had reapplied for pilot training and this time, having passed his medical at last, had been accepted. This would be a chance to realise his dreams.

  His old colleagues would spend nearly another year ranging along the North African coast as the battle swayed, but now mainly one way, along the narrow strip of land that stretched from Egypt in the west to Tunisia in the east. This included the capture of Tripoli and the eventual surrender of Axis forces. As the action in the Middle East petered out, 134 was posted to India, still flying its trusted Hawker aircraft. They would spend the final two years of the conflict fighting the Japanese, in India and also Burma, in what would become known as ‘the forgotten war’. They were one of the last Hurricane operators, eventually trading their weary cannon-equipped, canvas-tailed fighters in for the massive American-built Republic P-47 Thunderbolts in August 1944. In June 1945 the squadron was renumbered 131 County of Kent, after the original 131 had handed over its Spitfires to the Indian Air Force. In December that year the squadron was disbanded for good.