Air HQ instructed a very annoyed Bob d’Hotmann to fly the Frenchman the long distance to Windhoek and I was instructed to take that Frenchman’s place. Immediately I signalled Air HQ to make certain that DG Ops knew that I had not flown a Cessna 337 before and that my instrument and night ratings had expired 18 months ago. In his reply DG Ops said he was aware of these issues but was relying on my experience and the French co-pilot’s assistance to get the aircraft safely home.
Our brief was to enter Rhodesian air space after dark, but all eight participating French pilots were very eager to see the Victoria Falls. By staggering take-off it was decided that only two aircraft would be seen at any one time over the Falls and that nobody on the ground would know whether they were Zambian or Rhodesian sight-seeing flights.
We were happy to comply in any event because with bad weather forecast over western SWA and much of Rhodesia, and with difficult featureless terrain to navigate along the Caprivi Strip, it would be good to have a precise start-point before nightfall. During the flight we were not permitted to contact any Air Traffic Control centre other than Salisbury. Thornhill was available for diversion, but only in dire emergency. The specified natter frequency allocated for the ferry was to be the only one we could use until Salisbury’s control boundary was reached.
I invited my French pilot, Monsieur José, to take the left-hand (captain’s) seat. He declined, saying I was the one who knew how to handle the weather he could see building up across our path. He said he knew how to manage the fuel and oil transfer systems and this was best handled from the right-hand seat. M José’s English was only marginally better than my all-but-forgotten schoolboy French, so we relied on single words and hand signals. Pointing his finger at switches and instruments M José guided me through pre-start checks and engines start-up. His double thumbs-up signified all was well. We taxiied out sixth in the line of eight aircraft and lined up on the runway to watch number five labouring into flight and heading for the cloudbanks we ourselves would soon encounter.
The aircraft was loaded beyond design maximum weight so acceleration was slow and there was not much runway left when she lifted off with an uncomfortably high-nose attitude; but she soon accelerated to climbing speed. Response to rudder and elevator control movements was familiar but I found that the control yoke, which was narrower than any I had used before, made aileron handling heavy.
Transfer to instruments was made before entering cloud with instrument lighting set to maximum. Turbulence was mild in the climb to 11,500 feet where we levelled off. For some time I could not understand why we had not accelerated to the cruising speed I was expecting and it took a while before I realised that I had not raised the wing flaps after take-of. M José had not spotted this at all. With flaps up the speed stepped up nicely.
Not long after settling in the cruise, the rear-engine rpm started to hunt and I could not settle it down. M José’s response to my query was the typically continental one of screwing the face and raising both hands and shoulders. John Barnes, flying eighth in line, told me to do something or other, I cannot remember what, and the problem cleared. From then on both engines purred in perfect synchronisation for the rest of the fight.
Halfway to Victoria Falls we cleared the cloud that, though dense and dark in patches, had been relatively smooth and had given me no difficulty. I searched all around but could not see any of the other aircraft. From there on it was a matter of working out our exact location from the limited information printed on the 1:1,000,000-scale maps. M José shook his head when I confidently pointed to our position on the map. To him everything on the ground looked flat with all vleis (wetlands along river-lines) running almost parallel to our course.
Fifty kilometres before reaching the Victoria Falls we could already pick out the vertical pillar of spray from the falls illuminated by the setting sun. Once over the Falls, M José was amazed by the sight of this great wonder and took many photographs as we made one wide orbit. I have no idea how well the photographs turned out because the sun had just set below the horizon.
Even before we reached the Falls I heard the seventh and eighth aircraft broadcast that they were leaving Victoria Falls on course for Salisbury. Only then did I realise that both of them had passed me in the cloud, because of my flap selection error.
The Rhodesian weather forecast received before take-off warned of the ITCZ storm-line we could see running eastwards from Wankie. I had no desire to fly the direct route to Salisbury in such rough weather. Instead I chose to fly to Sinoia in clear skies, and then turn southwards for the shortest possible run through bad weather to Salisbury.
M José and I flew just south of the Zambezi Gorge to the headwaters of Kariba Lake, which was barely visible before it became totally dark. Flying conditions were smooth with absolutely nothing to see below us. M José pointed to the sky and my schoolboy French recognised sufficient words to understand that he had never seen so many stars in his life. The conditions were perfect and I had to agree that the brilliance and multiplicity of the stars was awesome.
Whilst we were enjoying our smooth ride and admiring God’s heavenly firmament, we listened to transmissions between the other pilots who were having a very rough ride down the ITCZ storm-line that we could see continuously illuminated by rippling lightning flashes way off to our right. Why the other pilots had not taken our ‘soft option’ route I cannot say, but I know that flying Trojans had taught me a thing or two about avoiding bad weather whenever possible.
All the other aircraft had landed by the time we eventually entered the bad weather about ten minutes’ flying time from Salisbury. We passed over the city in cloud and rain that was illuminated all around us as we descended towards the airport. Salisbury Airport controllers had no idea of the aircraft types arriving that night because one of our Air Force ATC officers, I think it was John Digby, sat with them to assist with what he had said was ‘the recovery of 4 Squadron aircraft returning from an operation in the Wankie area’. Approach Control expressed some concern because no one had heard from my aircraft until the last of the others had landed.
My French companion had been completely lost without the ILS-VOR assistance he relied on wherever he flew in Europe. On the other hand, I had never used such aids before. Under his guidance I learned how to interpret the instrumentation that brought us in for a bad weather landing which was so smooth it surprised me. After such a good let-down and smooth landing, M José made it clear that he was sure I had lied to him about never having used ILS-VOR or flown a Cessna 337 to before.
When we taxiied into dispersals at Air Movements Section, there was not a single Cessna 337 to be seen. M José and I climbed out of our machine into soaking rain and ran for the Air Movements Section. As I entered the building I looked back and saw our aircraft being towed away to a top-security hangar where the other aircraft already stood dripping water onto the concrete floor.
Inside Air Movements Section, Air Marshal McLaren and his senior staff officers were celebrating with the other crews. Eight Cessna 337s were home. Ten to go!