As Petrus alighted from the vehicle he was attacked by some of the gang with knives and was mortally wounded. Other members of the gang were attempting to drag his wife and children from the vehicle but Petrus somehow managed to get back to the driving seat to bulldoze his way through the road obstruction. He drove a short distance before dying at the wheel. The vehicle impacted the low verge of the road and stalled to a halt just short of a steep drop off the mountain’s edge. By this time all the doors had been locked from inside.
The terrified survivors knew the gang was back from their shouted abuses as they made an attempt to force open the doors. When this failed, the gang tried to light fuel streaming from the fuel tank damaged by the road obstruction. Thanks to wet matches and the timely approach of another car, the attack was broken off and the gang disappeared into the night.
Petrus Oberholzer was the first white man to die in an act of war since the Mashona Rebellion sixty-seven years earlier. The ZANU men responsible for his death were not yet armed with guns although these had become available to their Zambian-based rival ZAPU back in 1962. We knew that ZANU had started training in China in September 1962 so, considering the nature of the attack, it was feared that Mau Mau-styled operations might be opening up. These fears faded with time and armed offensives held off for twenty-one months.
Flying Wing Adjutant
IN AUGUST 1964 MY JOBS for Group Captain Whyte had been completed and I returned to flying instruction. My students were Officer Cadets Barry Roberts, Terry Jones, Blake Few and Steve Kesby. Teaching three of the students was straightforward but Blake Few suffered badly from airsickness.
I decided to apply on Blake Few the same treatment that had worked so well for Dave Hume. This time it was a dismal failure and I probably did Blake more harm than good because he continued to be sick, though less frequently. Nevertheless, this was enough to place his flying career in question. He transferred to Air Traffic Controller duties until, some years later, he returned to flying having overcome his motion sickness problem.
During the period of this course I flew two sorties with Officer Cadet Bill Buckle who I heard had the reach of an orang-utan. The average pilot had to undo his shoulder harness lock to reach over to the far side of the instrument panel to select two magneto switches for engine start-up. Bill could do this without unlocking shoulder straps, so far was his reach. Nobody could work out how he did it because he was a man of average height and his proportions were normal.
I had become bored with flying instruction and was longing for a posting. It came at the beginning of 1965 when I was moved to the newly established post of Flying Wing Adjutant. I was in this post for only nine months but enjoyed the break and was able to fly whenever I felt like doing so. I was also called upon to fly with Harold Grifths and Brian Jolley who were undergoing instruction in the Flying Instructors School.
Barry Roberts, Terry Jones, PB, Blake Few and Steve Kesby.
Deaths of Barry Matthews and Sandy Trenoweth
ON 24 MARCH 1965 ELEMENTS of 4 Squadron were returning from a short camp at Tjolotjo where they had been involved in an exercise with the Army. Leading a flight of four aircraft, Mike Reynolds climbed out straight ahead until all aircraft were airborne then turned back to bid farewell to the Army guys camping next to the runway. He ran in and executed a barrel roll at too low an altitude for the inexperienced pilots following behind. The next in line, Barry Matthews, attempted to follow Mike’s manoeuvre but failed to make it through the bottom of the roll and slammed into the ground, belly down. The aircraft disintegrated and both Barry and Warrant Officer Sandy Trenoweth perished.
Sandy Trenoweth’s distressed widow requested that Sandy’s ashes be scattered from the air alongside the grass runway 13. In particular she asked OC Technical Wing for me to do this for Sandy’s sake. I had liked Sandy very much but was somewhat surprised and flattered by Mrs Trenoweth’s request.
With the urn containing Sandy’s ashes prepared and lying in the empty bucket seat next to me, I settled on line with the runway and opened the canopy. Using my knees to hold the control column, I held the urn in both hands and put it out into the slipstream. Immediately I removed the lid, the slipstream started emptying the box but some of the light ash blew back into my eyes. When the urn was completely empty the canopy was closed but I was battling to see. For almost thirty minutes I remained at height giving the tears steaming from my eyes time to clear my vision for landing.
Rupert Fothergill
ON 8 AUGUST 1965 I was sitting at my Flying Wing Adjutant’s desk when I received a distress call from National Parks Head Office in Salisbury. This was to say that a game-ranger had been gored by a rhino way up near Kariba Dam. Air Force assistance was needed to get morphine to the camp in which Rupert Fothergill had received first aid treatment but was in too much pain to face the long rough ride to the nearest hospital or airfield. A helicopter had been requested but this was going to take some time to reach him.
Having arranged a Provost with full overload tanks and collected morphine from Station Sick Quarters, I quickly fashioned a parachute and tested it to ensure a soft landing for the morphine and needles, which were neatly packed in sponge rubber. At the temporary game camp, I found the rhino pens where three of these large animals, disturbed by the Provost’s presence, were running around in circles. A short distance away I saw the white sheets laid out as markers for the drop. The parachute deployed perfectly and waving bush hats and thumbs-up signals confirmed safe receipt of the morphine. Later, Peter Cooke with Dr Laidlaw arrived in an Alouette helicopter to fly Rupert to Salisbury Hospital.
How the rhino came to gore Rupert Fothergill I do not recall other than it was to be darted with a drug for capture and re-location to Wankie Game Reserve. Rupert Fothergill was leader of the much-publicised Operation Noah in which thousands of animals were rescued from certain death when the rising waters of Lake Kariba trapped them on newly formed islands that were going to disappear below water. Considering the nature of operations to capture panicking animals, it was surprising that Rupert was gored only this once and survived to continue his world-acclaimed work.
Posting to 3 Squadron
THORNHILL’S WORKING HOURS REMAINED 06:30 to 13:30, which gave everyone ample free time in daylight hours. Apart from boxing for Umtali High School and representing the school’s first rugby team once, I had never excelled in any sport. My sports involvement was limited to golf once gliding became too expensive. Even in golf my participation with Dave Thorne, Pat Meddows-Taylor and others was limited to one afternoon per week, so I looked to other activities to occupy spare time. Two of these were sewing and boat-building.
I had bought Beryl the latest in sewing machines, a Singer Slant-a-Matic, but she showed no interest in learning to use it. Rather that let the expensive machine lie idle, I decided to try my hand at making clothes for Debbie then Paul and did well in both. Without having taken a single lesson I progressed to day-dresses for Beryl and then to her eveningwear. The outcome of Beryl’s evening dresses was very pleasing to both of us and led some wives to ask me to make dresses for them. Beryl would have nothing of this because of the way I handled her body during fittings. However, having satisfied myself that I could sew, I lost interest and thereafter only made curtains, box-pleated bedspreads and material coverings for furniture when pressed into doing so.
I built a mould for the sixteen-foot power catamaran that I designed. This was done in a large lean-to garage I had built for the purpose. I was doing well with my project but needed another eight weeks to make the fibreglass hulls when I learned that I had been posted to No 3 Squadron at New Sarum to fly Dakotas. My request for a delay so that I might complete the catamaran was turned down and I never did finish it.
My routine six-monthly flying medical examinations coincided with our arrival in Salisbury in mid-September 1965 when it was found that my hearing had been severely impaired by my job as Flying Wing Adjutant at Thornhill. I had become upper tone deaf from t
he continuous high-pitched screaming of Vampire engines whose noise was intensified by reflected sound off two walls in my second-storey office. I was grounded for six weeks with special plugs fitted in my ears until my hearing recovered to an acceptable level.
In late October I commenced the flying conversion to the Dakota but soon realised I was being held back for reasons that nobody would tell me. Instead of flying daily and going on my first solo on type in the usual ten days, I was flying every second day. When the day arrived for my first solo, which had already been recorded in the Flight Authorisation Book, I was told to report to OC Flying Wing. In his office Wing Commander Harry Coleman told me I was being withdrawn from 3 Squadron with immediate effect because I had been reallocated to helicopters. My disappointment at not making that solo flight was great because I really enjoyed my limited time on the famous old ‘Gooney Bird’.
Helicopter training for the first RRAF pilots had been conducted in France. The South African Air Force then took over this role and our pilots were trained on French Alouette II and Alouette III helicopters operating out of Langebaan Air Base near Cape Town. Air HQ decided to establish if we could train our own pilots in Rhodesia as this would bring about considerable savings in time and foreign currency. Flight Lieutenant Mark Smithdorff had undergone some level of training as a helicopter instructor so it was decided that, because I was an experienced instructor, he should try his hand at training me. If this worked out well, all future helicopter training would be undertaken in Rhodesia and I would become the squadron’s second helicopter instructor. However, my training was only scheduled to begin in January 1966.
Catamaran.
Chapter 5
Unilateral Declaration of Independence
POLITICAL HARANGUING BETWEEN RHODESIA AND Britain had been ongoing since the granting of independence to Zambia and Malawi because Britain had failed to do the same for Rhodesia, despite her promises. Additionally, the British Government had undertaken not to interfere in Rhodesia’s internal affairs and had endorsed the need to retain the tribal chiefs. But again, both of these important issues were conveniently forgotten.
In October 1964, many countries sent their observers to the biggest gathering of chiefs ever held in the country but Britain, supposedly the ‘responsible power’ for Rhodesia, refused to attend. Earlier, when the chiefs had sent a delegation to London to make their views known to the British Government, they were snubbed by Commonwealth Secretary Duncan Sandys and returned to Rhodesia deeply enraged by this discourtesy.
Realising that Britain had no interest or knowledge concerning the protocols and needs of the African people of Rhodesia, the chiefs gave their unanimous support to the RF to proceed to independence under the 1961 Constitution, which Britain had already ratified. Then, on 5 November, a referendum showed that 89% of the largely white electorate supported the chiefs’ stance, thereby giving the RF authority to unilaterally declare Rhodesia’s independence. The decision had not been an easy one but the ever-changing stance of the Conservatives made it crystal clear that they had absolutely no intention of holding to their word. This was the solemn promise to Rhodesia of independence in exchange for her cooperation in dissolving the Federation; despite such action being in conflict with the British Government’s own recorded and declared principle that, “the Federation was indissoluble”. If the Conservatives were bad news, the Labour Party’s victory in October was expected to make things worse, considering the rhetoric of pre-election speeches.
Just prior to coming to power, the new British Prime Minister Harold Wilson had made it known that the Labour Government “is totally opposed to granting independence to Southern Rhodesia as long as the Government of that country remains under control of the white minority." He had certainly misread things because Ian Smith’s RF Party, the chiefs and the electorate were dedicated to the retention of ‘responsible government’. It was from British politicians that racist definitions were generated; certainly not Rhodesia whose people had accepted the terms of the 1961 Constitution that underlined the undertaking of ‘unimpeded progress to majority government’.
The track record of independent black governments in Africa made it clear to all Rhodesians that progress to black rule had to be handled with great care if the country was not to be reduced to a shambles by self-seeking despots. It was contended that we owed it to the black folk as much as to the whites to continue to build on the strong foundation of the country’s existing infrastructures and wealth and to develop a healthy middle class from which future politicians, black and white, would emerge.
The possibility of Rhodesia declaring herself independent occupied Whitehall’s attention to such an extent that veiled threats of dire action began to flow. That the governments of black Africa and the communist-dominated OAU were pressurising Britain was obvious because, in response to every move the RF made seeking fair play, the Labour Party, like the Conservatives before them, simply moved the goal posts. Rhodesia’s need to take matters into her own hands to stymie the communist-orchestrated line was becoming more certain.
It was in these circumstances that I was attached as the Air Liaison Officer (ALO) to Army’s 2 Brigade Headquarters at Cranborne Barracks, the old RAF wartime base. The military actions Britain was threatening and preparing for did not materialise, so the only real benefit of my presence at 2 Brigade was one of strengthening Army and Air Force relationships. This was my first full exposure to the Army and I enjoyed the experience very much. Brigadier Steve Comberbach and his Staff went out of their way to make me feel comfortable in their midst and willingly provided answers to all my queries concerning their procedures that were, necessarily, very different from those of my own force. With much time on our hands Major John Smithyman treated me to a series of sound thrashings at chess.
During this period I managed to grab a ride in a helicopter with Ozzie Penton on a search for a large number of prisoners who had broken out of Salisbury Prison. The search ended up over a typical Rhodesian boulder-strewn hill of some twenty acres near Lake McIlwaine. Even when hovering close to the trees and boulders it was impossible for us to see any of the prisoners who were hiding under the boulders and in caves. It took dogs to flush them out eventually but the experience of rough country searches was something that I would become familiar with in time to come.
On 11 November 1965 I was instructed to get to the Officers’ Mess at New Sarum before 11 o’clock. On arrival I found all officers assembled to listen to an important broadcast to the nation by the Prime Minister. On the dot of 11 o’clock, Ian Smith read Rhodesia’s Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI). He ended the presentation with the words “God save the Queen".
The radio was switched off and not a word was spoken by the motionless gathering, everyone buried in his own thoughts. Our loyalty to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II never faltered, though we all secretly worried that we would soon lose our royal title and with it the crown on badges and wings. When eventually this came to pass, I went to the trouble of visiting a photographer to have a portrait taken to remember my Queen’s Commission. Many others did the same because British Royalty was deeply revered by all of us.
Portrait photo.
However, insofar as Her Majesty’s Government was concerned, there was no respect whatsoever. Notwithstanding the unfairness of it all, we knew we were in for a torrid time from Harold Wilson’s socialist government and, through this, the world at large.
Initial concern had been that Britain would take military action against us to ‘restore’ our country to British control. If this had happened, a modern-day disaster along the lines of the Anglo–Boer War would undoubtedly have resulted and South Africa may well have come to our aid, thereby creating a major war. A few Rhodesians may have scurried off to safety, but most of us would have fought with the blind courage and a determination that no British politician of those times would have expected. Unlike every one of our political leaders, the main Labour players had never heard a shot fired in anger
.
Preparations were made for the most likely course of military action, a paratrooper assault on one or more of our main Airfields. Thank God this never came because a kith-on-kin war would have been too awful. Later we heard that the Labour Party had come to realise that ordering British forces into action against their Rhodesian relatives might bring about their immediate undoing. There were even rumours that some well-known British Army units had made it absolutely clear that they would refuse to follow orders to act against Rhodesia.
Any doubts we had as individuals about the British Government’s honesty were laid aside when Britain and America made threats of sanctions. Shortly thereafter, Rhodesian Hunter and Canberra engines inside Britain and those in transit for servicing by Rolls Royce were impounded, thereby creating an immediate and serious problem.
Just prior to this Group Captain Slade, the RAF Liaison Officer in Rhodesia, was recalled to Britain. On his return, he told the British press that our Air Force would grind to a rapid halt. He gave the jets, specifically the Hunter, three months and suggested that piston aircraft and helicopters would all be out of action within nine months. Our reaction to this was: “Not bloody likely, we’ll show that pompous bastard that he is way off the mark.” Group Captain Slade unwittingly did the RRAF a great favour by dispelling any remaining doubts about Britain’s intention to destroy us and this engendered an overpowering will to surmount every difficulty that was laid in our path.
In addition to Britain trying to bring us to heel simply to remove pressure from the OAU, ZAPU and ZANU continued their preparations for war. In Rhodesia organisations of all descriptions set about overcoming sanctions even before they had been officially declared. Anti-British feeling ran high, particularly amongst those who had fought for Britain and the Empire during WWII. Even dedicated whisky drinkers dropped their favourite Scotch and local manufacturers benefited from British and American commodities being removed from housewives’ shopping lists. Local manufacturers received full support for their products, even though these were sub-standard to start with. But in a relatively short time local substitutes improved and saved the country an absolute fortune in foreign currency. Familiar British trade names such as Heinz gave way to a host of Rhodesian producers including Cashel Valley products.
Winds of Destruction Page 20