Having reached the tree, the doctor confirmed Eric’s body was there and appeared complete save for the loss of a leg that was soon discovered near by. It was almost unheard of in a crash of this nature for a pilot’s entire body to be available for burial considering the location of a Vampire’s engine.
Tol Janeke was tried by court martial following this accident and was found guilty of contravening Air Force Regulations for unauthorised low flying outside the prescribed training area. His punishment of eighteen months’ deferred promotion was probably harsh in the circumstances. Eric had persuaded his junior to follow him on a low-level inspection of the Umniati River to establish if the water level was suitable to repeat a canoeing trip he and Tol had made down the same river the previous year.
Eric led the downstream reconnaissance. At the road bridge on the main road leading to Salisbury he turned to fly back up the river. Then by waggling his wings, so as not to give away his position to Thornhill Approach Control, Eric passed lead to Tol.
As Tol was about to pass, Eric in typical fashion did a slow roll that did not work out as so many had before. In the second half of the roll the aircraft scooped and so ended a very capable young pilot’s life.
After his military funeral our course held a private party as a send-off to Eric.
First students
AT THIS TIME NO 14 PTC had completed the GTS phase and were ready to commence flying training on Provosts. I was allocated Officer Cadets Doug Pasea and Terry Ryan and set about putting my instructor training into practice.
Teaching a student who knew nothing about flying seemed easy, though I soon realised I was ‘pattering’ just what I had been taught but without the pressure of practising it on someone more experienced than myself.
Doug Pasea learned quicker than Terry Ryan and I considered him fit for solo after about twelve hours. Bob Woodward who, for reasons I never established, disliked Doug Pasea even taking him on his solo test. Unbeknown to me Bob had already decided that Pasea was not going to pass BFS, no matter what! Doug was not only ‘failed’ on this test, Bob also disallowed him the benefit of further training with a second solo check; so I pleaded with Chris Dams to intervene. This he did, but to no avail! Having ‘failed’ BFS, Doug Pasea was sent to Britain to train as a Canberra navigator. He did splendidly and became an outstanding officer who gained respect throughout the force.
When Terry Ryan was reaching maximum hours allowed for solo he was taken on a progress check by Bob Woodward. Though not a patch on Doug Pasea as a pilot, he was sent solo off this very sortie. I was pleased for Terry Ryan’s sake but very displeased at losing Doug Pasea. This was my first experience of unfair prejudice by a senior officer against a junior. Unfortunately I would see close friends suffer from this human failing in the years ahead.
In June I was given Officer Cadets Tony Smit and Keith Clarke in exchange for Terry Ryan. Tony Smit was under threat of being scrubbed and his instructor had suggested that a change of instructor might be helpful. Keith’s instructor asked for the change on the grounds of incompatibility, but he gave me no difficulties. But I was very conscious of the fact that Tony Smit was the same age as me, the maximum age for student pilots having been elevated from twenty-one to twenty-four.
A couple of hours with Tony showed me that he had the potential but lacked concentration and was trying to ‘fly by numbers’ (meaning he was not yet using natural senses and every muscle in his body was as tight as an over-wound spring). Tony’s problem with flying reminded me of my father-in-law’s problem with dancing. Whether waltz, quick-step or tango he always moved his feet to his loudly whispered “one two three—one two three—one…”
I gave Tony a very hard time even though it was not in my nature to do this. Determined not to have another of my pupils fail, I drove him mercilessly. Then it dawned on me that, in my early stages of learning to fly, I had overcome the natural tendency to tense up by deliberately relaxing the muscles of my buttocks. This I had been taught by my father as a youngster learning to ride horses. By repeatedly telling him, “Relax your butt”, Tony’s main problem of tensing was overcome and soon enough he started to fly well.
For me Tony’s success has been something of a private triumph because he went on to give excellent service in Rhodesia and in the South African Air Force. He also qualified on a large number of aircraft types, including WWII fighters and bombers and became a member of the Confederate Air Force in the USA. However my success with Tony turned out to be a problem because I lost good students in exchange for difficult ones. In consequence I gained the questionable reputation of being a hard-arsed instructor, like Mick McLaren.
Fire Officer
DURING 1961 I WAS APPOINTED Station Fire Officer over and above my flying duties and found Flight Sergeant Jimmy Dumas and his crew of fire-fighters easy men to work with. My job was to ensure that their training was brought to the highest standard and that they were adequately equipped to deal with aircraft accidents and domestic fires.
Within a week of my appointment, and by prior arrangement with Air Traffic Control, I called for a practice ‘fire rescue’ of Sergeant Taffy Dowell and me from the cockpit of our Provost, which I had stopped in the middle of the runway after landing.
What an experience this turned out to be! Taffy and I, still strapped into our seats, were slumped forward holding our breath and simulating unconsciousness as black firemen climbed up to ‘rescue’ us. One big strong guy put his feet on the canopy rails then, placing his hands under my arms, nearly dislocated my shoulders because I was still firmly held down by the seat harness.
Flight Sergeant Dumas shouted instructions to release the harness, which in itself was a fiasco. Finally I was lifted clear and inadvertently dropped head first off the trailing edge of the wing before flopping onto hard tarmac. Taffy suffered similar mishandling and we were both lucky to get away with a few scratches and bruises.
Right away I decided to polish up on rescue training but to use firemen, complete with parachutes and helmets, in place of aircrew. Under my supervision they practised crew rescue, ad nauseam, from Provosts, T11s, FB9s and Canberras until procedures and techniques were slick and safe.
Canberra belly-landing
SQUADRON LEADER CHARLIE GOODWIN WAS the Senior Technical Officer at Thornhill. One morning he came rushing into the squadron asking to be taken up for an in-flight inspection of a Canberra whose right main undercarriage refused to respond to pilot selections. He wanted a Provost rather than a Vampire and I was instructed to make the flight.
Squadron Leader Frank Mussell was flying the Canberra in question. He reduced speed to 120 knots to allow me to come into close formation directly under his right wing. It was immediately clear that the ‘D’ door had closed out of sequence ahead of the main wheel which was pressed hard against the outside of the ‘D’ door. The nose wheel and left main wheel were extended and locked down correctly.