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 the 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.
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.