At Nova Mague, the Operations Officer (I cannot recall who it was) and a team of Volunteer Reserve men were setting up communications in a tiny building next to the grass airstrip whilst others unloaded tents and supplies from a Dakota. Four helicopters, two Trojans and two Provosts released by FAFs 3 and 4 arrived just behind us. More aircraft arrived later from New Sarum and Thornhill.
Inside the small communications room was a large, beautifully carved wooden casket containing the body of a Portuguese soldier. It had been there for many months awaiting shipment to Portugal. The casket lay elevated on boxes at a height that made it an ideal working platform for 4 and 7 Squadron’s flight authorisation and aircraft F700 technical log books. Each time a pilot or technician came to attend to these he would say something along the lines, “Excuse me Alfredo” and on completion, “Thanks Alfredo”.
Based on what I knew, and supported by Peter Cooke’s knowledge of Chris Weinmann’s intended recce area on the day he went missing, a search involving every squadron had been planned by the Air Staff. The area stretching northwards from the Zambezi River had been broken into defined blocks, each to be searched by its assigned squadron. Operating in pairs, Hunters, Canberras, Vampires, Dakotas, Provosts, Trojans and Alouettes were involved. A commando of the RLI was on hand to protect Nova Mague and to give ground assistance as soon as either the missing aircrew or the Trojan was found.
Since we had an uneven number of Trojans, I paired up with Al Bruce who was flying a SAAF Cessna 185. Three of these aircraft had recently been delivered on long-term loan to 4 Squadron. We had planned for Chris and me to do conversions onto this aircraft because it afforded much better visual freedom for recce than the Trojan. However Op Marble interrupted our plans and Al, having done his conversion, came to lend a hand.
We passed a formation of four helicopters going in the opposite direction along the southern boundary of our search area. Their decision to use four aircraft for maximum security was a wise move made possible by their ability to hold open formation in the rough terrain allocated to 7 Squadron. At 10:00 Red Section, a pair of Hunters flown by Ricky Culpan and Vic Wightman, was flying wide line-abreast at 500 feet past a high feature on their right side when a Strela missile was fired. Part of Vic Wightman’s ASR read:
The missile had already passed No 2 when the report was made and a break starboard called. Leader then positioned and carried out a guns attack on the top of the hill, marked clearly by the smoke of the missile. This was approx. 30 secs after the missile had been fired. No 2 reversed his turn to position for a rocket attack on the hill. Leader repositioned for rockets and further gun attacks covering the hill and its surrounds. The section then climbed to height and reported the incident and position to Nova Mague before setting course for New Sarum.
Had that missile been fired at a slower aircraft the result would have been fatal. So, at 17:00 on the same day I led a strike by four Hunters on a base twelve kilometres to the southeast of were the Strela had been fired. Ricky Culpan and Vic Wightman were striking for the second time on this day led by Rob Gaunt with Don Northcroft flying No 4. The strike was made with a view to dissuading FRELIMO from firing at any searching aircraft.
It was getting dark when I decided it was my duty as OC 4 Squadron to get back to see Ellie Weinmann at Thornhill and Rob Durrett’s parents in Bulawayo. Although I was certain in my mind that both airmen were dead, I used the long night flight to conjure up suitable words of encouragement for the families. Eventually I came to the conclusion that no such words existed and that I would have to play things by ear when the time came. At Thornhill Ellie Weinmann, already receiving encouragement and support from Beryl and other squadron wives, had no doubts that Chris was alive and that he would be found soon. I was relieved by this and went home to bed totally exhausted.
Next morning I left early to meet Rob Durrett’s family. I told them that, although we had not given up hope, things did not look good. They were obviously distressed but were grateful that I had taken the time to pay them a personal visit and had not tried to hide realities. I returned to Thornhill and by midday had completed a hurried conversion onto a SAAF Cessna 185 with Captain van der Linde who, after forty-five minutes in the circuit, declared me safe to fly the aircraft. This aircraft was fitted with an SSB radio for long-range communication, which is the reason I needed it in a hurry for improved communications during the search and for Op Marble when it resumed.
En route back to Nova Mague I received an unusual instruction on the SSB radio from Wing Commander Porky MacLaughlin in Air HQ. He asked me to search the Mucanha River line. This river was on the north side of the Zambezi into which it flowed but was outside and to the west of the search area. Porky explained that the Rhodesian Broadcasting Corporation had reported that a Rhodesian Air Force aircraft was missing in the operational area but no mention had been made of Mozambique. Yet two female clairvoyants had voluntarily and individually phoned Air HQ to say they knew where the aircraft could be found and that both airmen were alive. The aircraft was reported to be right next to the Mucanha River itself and not too far from the Zambezi River.
Porky said it was so uncanny that these ladies, acting independently, had identified Mozambique and that both had pointed to the same river. This information could not be ignored, particularly as both women had previously assisted the Police in finding missing persons whose bodies had been located where the Police were told to search.
The Cessna I was flying had an unpainted silver surface making it an even better target for Strela than the camouflaged Trojan. Because of this I elected to search the river-line at low level and take my chances with smallarms fire. I could find nothing even though every tree, bush, nook and cranny had been inspected up and downriver until it became too dark to continue. I saw people on the ground three times but only once did I see a pair of men firing at my unarmed aircraft.
It was completely dark when I reached Nova Mague for my first solo landing in the tail-dragger Cessna 185. This was not the easiest of aircraft to land because of its narrow, undamped, leaf-spring undercarriage; so I was apprehensive about landing without a flare path. The dull lights within the camp helped me assess the position of the threshold and I used my instruments to assess the runway direction. On short finals I switched on the landing lights just in time to see a large tree directly ahead. I lifted over this and a little further on put the aircraft down so smoothly it surprised me.
Two days of intensive searching had yielded nothing and for the next three days the intensity of the search was maintained with as many as sixteen aircraft actually airborne at once. At no time during daylight were there less than six aircraft searching.
Under pressure from the Portuguese to resume Op Marble, Air HQ instructed me to reposition at Estima on 20 April. I was airborne out of Nova Mague flying my Cessna 185 with Chris Dickinson following in a Trojan. At 09:00 I was climbing at low power to allow Chris to hold formation when I heard Greg Todd calling urgently, “Willy where are you? Willy this is Greg. I cannot see you. Willy are you all right?” These calls were to Willy Wilson who had been flying No 2 to Greg.
I called Greg by his correct callsign and asked him what was going on. “Boss PB, I cannot see Willy. I have lost him.” For Greg Todd to call me Boss PB and refer to himself as Greg was reason enough to know he was already a frightened man. “Where are you now Greg?” I asked. He told me where, then said, “I can see black smoke along the route we were flying”. Moments later he said, “There’s a ball of white smoke rising from there, I’m sure Willy’s rockets have exploded.” The position Greg was reporting was smack in the centre of the area I had warned Chris Weinmann to be especially wary of and where he had said he was onto something big. Immediately I instructed Greg to move south and take cover behind a high feature whilst I moved over to him. As I flew there I requested Nova Mague to recall the helicopters and prepare to move troops. The smoke rising from Willy’s crash site was faint but obvious. I could see where Greg and Willy had passed over the south-to-north spur of a high dogleg ridge-line that turned ninety degrees westward into higher ground. I had come to know this particular feature well during earlier recces. From the south leg the pilots had descended to flatter terrain where the smoke was rising.