Having prepared everything for the first leg of the ferry, which was on the night of 14/15 January 1976, we made a curiosity flight to the coast that particular afternoon. This was not a requirement but it would familiarise us with the ground over which the ferry flight would route when it turned eastwards from the Atlantic to head for Ruacana. Bob d’Hotmann, who had flown us to Ruacana in a Dakota, flew us over territory that was completely unknown to any of us.
The terrain around Ruacana was familiar savannah country with large expanses of treed areas and narrow open grasslands running along the river-lines. As we progressed westward this gave way to very broken dry rocky terrain and a range known as the Zebra mountains. Any artist painting this incredible spectacle might not be believed because the sharply defined black and white stripes that cover the mountains looked so much like zebra markings that it was hard for any of us to accept that they were natural.
Beyond this, scrub-covered slopes met the brilliant white sands of the coastal desert in a defined line with no transition from one to the other. High, sharp-peaked dunes running in lines roughly parallel with the coast curved their way beyond sight. Next, the deep-blue Atlantic added yet another dimension to changes of scenery that had us spellbound.
As if this was not enough, ahead of us was spread an enormous fleet of Russian fishing vessels with three large ‘factory ships’ festooned with eavesdropping radio aerials and receiver dishes. We counted over sixty vessels spread either side of the extended borderline between SWA and Angola. Our excited report-back to the South Africans was met with a very casual “Thanks buddy, we know all about the Ruskies. Maritime surveillance has been watching them for over two weeks. Their interest seems to be with the fighting in Angola.”
Our doubts about the effectiveness of Chuck Dent’s aerial increased when we had heard nothing from the aircraft following an Air HQ signal that let us know two flights of four aircraft were airborne and heading for Palma. Rhodesians, each with a French co-pilot, flew six aircraft. Two experienced French airline pilots flew two aircraft but only one of these had a second pilot. This was due to my having been withdrawn too late to find a suitable replacement.
At around 10 o’clock on the night of 14th Chuck’s optimism had already turned to serious doubt when Squadron Leader Eddie Wilkinson’s voice came through faint but clear. He said, “I have been receiving you strength five all the way. Landing in ten minutes. Second flight thirty minutes behind. Will call airborne 09:00 Zulu. Cheers for now. Out.”
The first and final legs of this ferry were conducted at night for security reasons. Brightly coloured aircraft in formations might attract attention over France, but over Rhodesia they would undoubtedly cause unwanted excitement. The four intermediate legs were flown in daylight.
The legs from Palma to Agadir, Dakar and Cotonou were uneventful and we had communication with the aircraft all the way. However, out at sea on the leg to Port Gentil both formations encountered frontal weather conditions with visibility so poor that visual contact between the aircraft was often lost. It was in these conditions that Dave Thorne experienced falling rpm on his rear engine and was forced to close it down.
In a twin-engined aircraft it takes both fans turning to keep pilots cool over land, never mind flying way out over the ocean in heavy storms. So, with only one fan thrusting above a vast expanse of storm-tossed ocean, Dave and his French copilot were in a real sweat. There were still three hours to reach destination at normal cruise speed but, with his reduced speed on one engine, Dave had to make a decision on whether to hold heading or divert to a closer destination. In the event Dave elected to turn left for Libreville and take his chances if he was forced to land there; providing he reached the coast in the first place.
Dave, my coursemate back in 1957, had left the Air Force in the mid-60s to join the Australian airline Qantas. He had enjoyed flying in the comfort of Boeing 707 airliners but, for family reasons, had returned to Rhodesia and the Air Force. Flogging across the Atlantic on one engine in bad weather must have made him long for those safer times flying four-engined airliners. As it happened, Dave and his wide-eyed Frenchman made it to the coast at Libreville then turned south staying over the sea within gliding distance of the steamy coastline until they reached Port Gentil safely. The reason for the engine problem was detected and easily rectified. The next morning the aircraft took to the air heading south for Ruacana.
The arrival of the Cessnas left me with a lasting impression of how ugly the aircraft appeared in flight and how noisy the machines sounded as they streamed past before landing. On the ground they looked much neater as they taxiied quietly to line up in a single row. Three colour schemes had been used and all were very bright and cheerful. The elaborate crests of the fictitious fisheries surveillance company were eye-catching— intentionally so!
The crews were clearly delighted to be on friendly ground following four whole days of long flights with periods of tension between. Cameras were uncovered and a babble of French and English voices dominated as crews instructed each other on how they were required to pose. Whilst this was going on, storm clouds were towering in a continuous line to the east with much lightning and grumbling thunder.
Keith Corrans, held back for the second ferry, arrived at Ruacana to take the place of the one missing French pilot and following a happy evening, the crews were able to lie in next morning. However, one French airline pilot who was to fly the only aircraft with a French crew decided he needed to get back to France in a hurry and insisted on being taken to the nearest international airport. According to other French pilots, this fellow had become afraid of African weather conditions following the Cotonou-to-Port Gentil flight. When on arrival he saw the line of storm clouds building near Ruacana and learned of ITCZ conditions prevailing over Rhodesia, he was very jittery and became determined to get off the last leg.
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 Jose, 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 Jose’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 Jose 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.
