These embroidered cloth wings, displaying upward facing bullet set between two stubby wings (second from left on the bottom row), that were proudly worn above rank insignia on the left arm.
When the pressure refuelling pump had been proven in secret I told my Squadron Commander what had been done and why. Having witnessed a demonstration he gave me his unreserved approval for what had been achieved and even undertook to take the project on his own head to protect me from the inevitable repercussions that would flow from Air HQ. For this I was grateful but said I must take the responsibility, having intentionally hidden the developmental work from him. Nevertheless, Squadron Leader Rogers arranged for a high-level team of Air and Technical Staff officers to visit the squadron.
Visiting from Air HQ was a team of four officers comprising the Director General Operations, Staff Officer Operations, the Director General of Supporting Services (DGSS) and Command Armament Officer. They went directly to Squadron Leader Rogers’ office for discussions on subjects that differed from my OC’s prime purpose, which was to demonstrate pressure refuelling.
The concrete helicopter pad was bare but for two full drums of Avtur. One stood upright and the other was on its side at the edge of the pad. Out of sight on the sports field were two waiting helicopters. One carried the conventional kamena kawena pump and the other was fitted with the lighter prototype pressure-refuelling unit.
When the visiting officers emerged from the OC’s office they were invited by John Rogers to witness a short demonstration. As he approached the hangar door and saw only two fuel drums on the empty Helicopter pad, Group Captain Jimmy Pringle (DGSS), who had not been opposed to running an engine to refuel helicopters, immediately realised what was coming. He winked at me and whispered in my ear, “Naughty, naughty.”
The two helicopters lifted into view and moved forward to the helicopter pad. The one with the kamena kawena pump landed well clear of the drum that lay on its side. The one with the pressure refueller landed next to the upright drum. Both pilots closed fuel cocks and stopped the rotors, but only the pilot with the kamena kawena pump closed down his engine. Both crews exited and removed their refuelling gear from the rear compartment. The pressure-refuelling pump was inserted into the drum the moment the bung had been removed and refuelling commenced before the technician of the second aircraft had rolled his drum to the helicopter. Pressure refuelling ended, the pump was back in its storage bay, and rotors were wound up to governed speed for lift-off six minutes after landing. At that moment, the pilot of the second aircraft had just started cranking the kamena kawena pump. He lifted off sixteen minutes after landing.
Squadron Leader Rogers and I received a bit of a blasting for unauthorised development and for using Station Workshops and materials without HQ approval. Otherwise, the Air HQ officers were convinced by the demonstration and gave authority to manufacture pressure pumps for each helicopter.
Some days after all helicopters had been equipped with the new pressure pumps, I was astounded to be told by Air HQ that, being a commissioned Officer, I could expect nothing for my invention. I knew this without having to be told but, because the matter had been raised, I requested that Air Force take out a patent on the design. This request was made so that any financial benefit that might derive in the future could be passed to the Air Force Benevolent Fund that provided relief to servicemen in distress. I was assured this would be done.
Sanctions against Rhodesia were affecting our ability to buy certain spares and more so to procuring additional helicopters. A number of visits from Frenchmen of Sud Aviation as well as South African and Portuguese military people included inspections and demonstrations of the helicopter gun-mounting and pressure-refueller. Arising from French interests in the refuellers, it seems that the full data pack for the pressure equipment was handed to Sud Aviation in exchange for our urgent needs. That was fine, but no rites or royalty agreement was concluded because no patent existed.
When I learned about this, I was as mad as a snake for three reasons. Firstly, the French asked if our latest order for three new helicopters was to be with or without pressure refuellers. Secondly, we heard that the French had sold the refuellerdesign to the USAAF for use in Vietnam and finally, Air Force members with wives and children in need of special medical treatment outside the country could not expect the level of assistance from the Benevolent Fund that might have been possible had AIR HQ patented the refuelling system—as had been promised.
Accidental entry into Zambia
THE FRENCH HAD ALWAYS MADE it clear to all Alouette III users that this helicopter should not be flown at night or deliberately enter cloud. This was because, unlike fixed-wing aircraft, helicopters are inherently unstable and cannot be allowed to enter into any unusual flight attitude that could, in a matter of seconds, result in the aircraft breaking up in flight. However, because our Air Force seniors had not flown helicopters and believed that Rhodesian pilots were too well trained to worry about French opinions our helicopter pilots were committed to flying at night. For this they had to be wide-awake for every second in the air. We even had to practise daytime instrument flying under a hood arrangement and were tasked for hundreds of night training flights into every remote police station in the country.
We really needed every possible aid to reduce uncertainties and tension at night, whereas our aids were limited to standard flight instruments and VHF radio. My own experiences had shown me that navigation at night was particularly difficult and that there was urgent need for an instrument that would indicate the direction to fly to reach the point of destination. Such an instrument was already in service with South African Air Force helicopters. It was known as the Becker Homer.
A Becker Homer responded to incoming transmissions on any selected frequency. A needle on its indicator dial moved left or right of a centre-line marker in response to an incoming signal. Though the needle should have remained upright for a transmission emanating from directly ahead, it seldom did. Nevertheless, by asking the ground operator to give a long transmission it was possible in a turn to watch for the needle’s swing across centre as the nose came to the direction to steer to the point of transmission.
I submitted a request for this equipment through my Squadron Commander and OC Flying Wing who both added their weight to the request. Though the Becker Homers were readily available in South Africa and were not expensive, nothing was forthcoming because bids for these instruments had not been included in the squadron’s annual returns. Because of this, I got myself into a near-fatal situation.
I was at Thornhill participating in a School of Infantry exercise code-named ‘Happy Wanderer’ when, just after dinner one evening, I received instructions to get to Binga at first light with three MAG machine-guns and a large supply of ammunition and mortar bombs. A terrorist crossing of Lake Kariba had been detected and Army troops were on follow-up. A FASOC (Forward Air Support Operations Centre), two helicopters and two Provosts were already at Binga.
My technician Ewett Sorrell and I loaded the aircraft before I contacted Thornhill’s Meteorological Officer who forecast an eight-knot headwind at 8,500 feet, which was my intended cruise altitude. We went off to bed at around 20:30. When we lifted off at 03:00 I took the precaution of making a run down the centre-line of the tarmac runway 31 to check that my directional indicator had been set correctly from the tiny, difficult-to-read, P2 magnetic compass. Coincidentally, the runway direction was the same as the heading to Binga.