Flightcom Magazine August 2023

FlightCm

Where romance meets nature

AUGUST 2023

EDITION

Publisher Flyer and Aviation Publications cc

Managing Editor Guy Leitch guy@flightcommag.com

Advertising Sales Wayne Wilson wayne@saflyermag.co.za

Layout & Design Patrick Tillman: Imagenuity cc

ADMIN:

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TRAFFIC:

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ACCOUNTS:

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Bush Pilot - Hugh Pryor

AME Directory

Pilots - Laura McDermid

John Bassi Flies Taildraggers

News - Pegasus Shares Sale

Defence - Darren Olivier

The World's Best Airlines

Jeffrey Kempson - Vee-Tales

Alpi Aviation SA: Flight School Directory

Merchant West Charter Directory

Skysource AMO Listing

Backpage Directory

A NOTE FROM THE EDITOR:

THE BURNING ISSUE RIGHT NOW is safety.

SAA keeps racking up egregious safety failures. The latest is the loss of control in flight that the Germans have now released the final report on. They found huge gaps in the pilots’ training. Incredibly, the co-pilot did not have an ALTP – and yet, for 25 years, SAA had not checked.

Add this to the Brussels vaccine flight’s alpha floor incident where the Airbus A340 had to rescue itself from pilot error. And then the Accra fuel contamination incident. The holes in the Swiss cheese must be about to line up.

Underlying the concern about safety is that SAA is almost certainly the only airline in the world that promotes pilots on the basis of their previously disadvantaged status, and not on their seniority. And so we have pilots who sign on intoxicated being promoted to Captain, while many of the better pilots have fled SAA to fly in places as diverse a Rwanda, and of course the sandpit, with the Middle East 3 airlines’ massive demand for pilots and tax-free salaries.

What is particularly ironic is that, despite SAA's best attempts at transforming the racial mix of its pilot body from predominantly white male to mostly black, its efforts have proved in vain – presumably because the better non-white male pilots do not accept being stigmatised by the compromises made to promote their not so competent colleagues.

Thus are the grand dreams of affirmative action in a high-skill environment shown to be nothing but misguided flights of fancy.

Amidst all this background noise, the DPE proudly claims that SAA is making a profit, and that’s supposed to shut up the detractors. But DPE doesn’t say whether it’s just SAA Flight Operations that is making a profit – or the whole SAA Group. In the current market, with excess demand for seats compared to supply and sky-high seat prices, it would be unforgivable for even SAA to not make an operational profit.

My suspicion is that the profit claim is also supposed to make the long delayed Takatso Consortium deal less pressing. Again, it appears that we are being fobbed off with empty promises, as when scrutinised, it’s hard to believe that DPE has any real intent to conclude the sale of 51% of the airline to the private sector.

And so will the history of huge losses just keep repeating itself, all in the name of centralised power for cadre deployment.

The decay continues. This makes a mockery of SAA’s advertising claim that; ‘Those who know fly SAA.’ The opposite is true. In 2013 SAA was rated 21 amongst the world’s airlines. It has dropped to 79.

The demise of this once proud airline continues – only now under a cloud of obfuscation. 

under a cloud of obfuscation

SAA and the Department of Public Enterprises are operating on the premise that they can fool enough of the people enough of the time to get by.

IF I AM STAYING ON MY OWN , in a five-star hotel with beautiful decor and impeccable cuisine and a limitless cellar and the lavatory’s blocked, I get mad. It spoils my week-end. I throw my toys out of the cot.

If, on the other hand, I’m in the middle of the African Bush with a bunch of my friends and the decor is Mother Nature, with bugs and slitheries, and the food’s everything thrown together in one pot and who’s got the spoon and the beer’s warm and there isn’t a lavatory, I’m having fun.

So what about, for example, if I’m in the middle of the African Bush with a bunch of my friends, the decor is Mother Nature, with bugs and slitheries but large mosquito nets and the food’s great and the cutlery’s “Stainless Korea Guaranteed 25 years” and the beer’s chilled and the shower is hot and I’m flying for the Red Cross into some of the most interesting and challenging airstrips around and the lavatory works just fine, am I having fun?.....Don’t be silly...They don’t make fun like that any more!

One of the friends I was working with was actually our Engineer. His name was Toe, as in foot, and he came from South Africa. He was the spitting image of Gene Wilder and it was chiefly due to his expertise that our aircraft had such an incredible reputation for reliability. In fact we only lost one day’s flying due

to aircraft unserviceably in four years in spite of the appalling conditions in which we were operating, and that was only a radio problem. Nothing to do with Toe at all really.

Toe worked extremely hard but give him half a chance and he loved to play as hard as any of us. You could always tell when Toe was coming to the boil. He would start to giggle and it embarrassed him, because he couldn’t control it. For some peculiar reason, after about the third very cold one, his eyes could only see the funny side of life and the later it got, the funnier it got.

Toe’s giggles were highly infectious and by the end of a good evening he would have everybody in tears! The strange thing was that by the following morning, no-one could remember what on earth we had all been laughing at. In fact, many of the stories which he related had inconvenient, if not tragic, endings for Toe, but he always managed to turn them around so that the humorous qualities of the situations gleamed through.

I think it might have had something to do with his Jewish roots. If the Jews can laugh at their past, anyone can.

Very close to the Red Cross compound, there was a large secure enclosure for the United Nations, Operation Lifeline Sudan, which was run by an

“An adventure is an Inconvenience rightly considered.”

our aircraft had a reputation for reliability

ex-SAS Sergeant Major and he had a small team of experts to assist him. One of these people was in charge of anything to do with water. Boreholes, piping, pumps, open wells, storm drains, you name it, he knew all about it...he really did!

He was a balding white-haired, white-bearded, bushyeyebrowed, philosophical little gnome of a man and came from a remote part of Switzerland called the Valais, where, if he was anything to go by, they spend most of their time eating cheese and drinking some of the finest schnapps around. His name was Jacques Ouateur. Because nobody could pronounce his second name it was sometimes shortened to Jacques “Eau”, as in French for “Water”, or simply Jacko and he was an essential part of the team, both professionally and socially.

Jacko’s particular contribution to our social life came in the form of a “Raclette” which he used to lay on once or twice a month for the benefit of invited guests only.

For the uninitiated, a “Raclette” is a curiously formal Swiss tradition. The order of dress is “Smart Casual” and DON’T be late. The evening starts at 18:30 precisely... with a general introduction from Jacques, your host. The programme continues with aperitifs over which Jacques introduces any newcomers to the itinerary and to the other participants. At the Red Cross compound, we usually had access to fairly liberal quantities of wine, so that was normally our responsibility during the evening. Toe was always generous to a fault in this respect, a fact that did not go unappreciated by Jacko.

participant to take it in turns to serve the other guests their Raclettes.

Towards the end of the meal, Schnapps is introduced. Formality readily dissolves in Schnapps and Jacques’ Schnapps proved to be a stronger solvent than most.

The venue for Jacques’ Raclettes was his workshop which he took great pains to prepare, with appropriate posters of scenic Switzerland placed around the walls and copious quantities of Swiss flags draped overhead to lend authenticity to the atmosphere. The tables were covered with freshly-laundered bed linen and touches of colour were added with local flora.

access to liberal quantities of wine

Access to the workshop is via a small stone bridge which crosses the main six-foot-deep storm drain which traverses the compound, constructed of boulders set in concrete by Jacques himself. Turning space in front of the workshop is restricted, so I always used to reverse the Red Cross 4X4 over the bridge into the parking place in order to facilitate egress if Jacques’ Formality-Solvents proved more effective than usual by the end of the evening.

On one occasion, Toe and I were invited for a Raclette. It was Swiss National Day, celebrating I can’t remember how many hundreds of years of the Confederatio Helvetica. I was going on leave a couple of days later and had already completed my flying programme for that tour.

The star of any Raclette is the cheese and the supporting cast is made up of freshly-boiled new potatoes and pickled gherkins. The white wine plays a major part in the appreciation of the finer points of the cheese and also in the comprehension of the conversation as the evening develops.

The cheese, which has to be hand-picked by the host, is offered up to a specially constructed vertical fire-grate although I suppose any high-fronted grate would do. The cheese melts and the Chef creams off the melted layers onto plates and then it is the duty of each male

The aircraft was on maintenance the next day and so, in order to allow me to participate fully in the evening’s entertainment, Toe very kindly offered to drive. He did not reverse over the little stone bridge, but drove straight over it into the small parking area and parked with the back of the car facing the storm drain.

It was a classic evening. Jacques excelled in his hospitality.

Visitors from the American Embassy, including the Ambassador and his large and highly entertaining wife, ladies and gentlemen from the Red Cross and various other local organisations were captivated by

the strong aura of tradition, softened by the warmth, friendliness and familiarity of the assembled company. The party did not break up until rather later than usual, about a quarter to ten instead of the more usual nine o’clock, and I was feeling as good as only imminent leave can make one.

Toe and I got into the car to go back to the Red Cross compound and he started the engine. Before I had time to utter a strangled yell he selected reverse gear and roared straight back into the storm drain. Both back wheels spun uselessly in the air and above the noise of the engine all I could hear was the suppressed hiss of escaping air as Toe giggled convulsively!

The next morning I woke Toe up at Oh-Dark-thirty and we crept round to the UN with a couple of high-lift “Tanganyika” jacks and some fairly substantial pieces of timber. We managed to recover the vehicle before anyone was around to see this glaring demonstration of Red Cross driving technique, and got back to the Red Cross well before breakfast.

he selected reverse gear

That evening Toe and I popped round for a beer to the UN bar, which is not far from Jacques’ workshop on the same side of the little stone bridge. This time I was driving, so we reversed over the bridge and parked facing the dreaded storm drain. As I switched off the engine Toe tapped my arm and pointed out of the windscreen.

We had to go back rather sheepishly and tell Jacques what had befallen our vehicle and he very generously insisted on dropping us over to the Red Cross. We promised to be back before day-break the next morning to recover the offending pollutant from his storm drain and he wished us a very good night.

There was a large brand new white notice board in front of us, with a red line around the edge of it. It read “PARKING RESERVED FOR RED CROSS VEHICLES ONLY!” and its supports were cemented into the bottom of the storm drain. 

AME Doctors Listing

ROOSEVELT’S GUNS

THE DOCUMENTARY WAS MEANT

to provide insight into African hunting, and how it related to the preservation of game. It presented some interesting historical ties and rarely seen footage about ex-USA President Theodore Roosevelt’s famous 1909 African safari and accurately depicted important issues of past and present game management issues.

Sponsored by the Smithsonian Institution, Theodore Roosevelt was tasked with collecting specimens for the natural history museum and he and his son Kermit shot and collected over 11,460 species in just ten months.

The party at Murungu consisted of Theodore Roosevelt IV, Theodore Roosevelt V (nicknamed ‘Bear’), Bartle Bull, camerawoman Dyanna Taylor, producer George Butler and his son Tyson, together with all of Theodore Roosevelt’s original hunting paraphernalia which consisted of a Holland and Holland Royal Double rifle, a Fox 12-gauge shotgun, 2 x Winchester model 1895 lever action rifles nicknamed ‘Big Medicine’, a Springfield 30-06 and a Mannlicher rifle.

firearm he ever owned and became known as the ‘Big Stick’ as a reference to his quote on diplomacy.

It was my job to ferry the crew members between camps and I’d fly Dyanna Taylor around to get aerial footage of the swamps.

The side door of the C206 had been removed so that she could capture the unobstructed panoramic views on camera.

The side door of the C206 had been removed

Memories of this petit woman wading through the swamps lugging her big camera behind her remain emblazoned on my mind. She had smeared mud onto every square inch of exposed skin to prevent from being bitten by tsetse flies and ended up looking like a wild swamp creature. Despite her discomfort, I never heard her complain once.

Bilu Deen, a well-known Tanzanian PH, would follow her at a respectful distance, his rifle at the ready should anything untoward happen. The truth is that her unearthly appearance was so daunting that I doubted that any human or animal would have been brave enough to approach her.

Of these, the Holland & Holland Royal Double Rifle, s/n 19109, chambered in .500/450 was the finest

A few days later, I bid farewell to the crew and flew to

In August 1986, a crew arrived in Murungu to film a documentary called ‘In the Blood’ about a boy’s experience of an African Safari.

Kizigo, another hunting camp, where I spent two days doing aerial recces of the surroundings, looking for signs of poaching.

On the third day, I flew from Kizigo via Dodoma to Kilimanjaro for fuel. Buster was waiting for me at the fuel bay.

‘Iris, I have some really bad news.’ Buster was forever the joker, but I could tell by the hard set of his mouth that he was being serious. Blood pounded in my ears and a knot of apprehension was growing in the pit of my stomach.

‘Bilu died in a bushfire’.

I heard the words but couldn’t quite comprehend what Buster was saying. ‘How?’ I asked.

‘Bilu and two clients were transporting the Roosevelt guns and some camera equipment to a new film set. They were throwing lit matches out of the car when Bilu accidentally drove the Land Rover onto a termite mound.’

Burning the grass was common practice in the dry season. The Maasai burnt the grass to encourage fresh green shoots for grazing, and the hunters burnt the grass to make it easier to traverse the countryside.

‘All four wheels were off the ground, so Bilu got out of the car and ordered the clients to do the same. He gave them shovels and told them to make a firebreak by burning back towards the fire and to beat out the flames that advanced too close.’

Theodor Rooseveldt's famous 'Big Stick' was his Holland & Holland double .458 rifle.

The documentary ‘In The Blood’.

PILOTS

Buster’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘Apparently the direction of the wind changed abruptly, and the fire began heading towards them. Bilu told the clients to grab as many of the Roosevelt guns as they could carry and told them to leave.

He and his gun-bearer tried to jack the Land Rover up as high as they could.’

Being such a responsible person, I could see why Bilu would try his best not to abandon the equipment.

‘Eventually, he was forced to flee, but couldn’t outrun the flames. His gunbearer and his tracker both managed to escape but one of the Roosevelt guns remained in the car’.

The next day Robin Hurt and his gunbearer tracked down the two clients who had spent a very uncomfortable night in the bush. They found Bilu not far from the Land Rover and brought his charred body back to camp.

Theodore Roosevelt’s 1909 Africa trip.

Kermit and Theodore pose with their rifles - TR with the Big Stick - on a cape buffalo.

I removed all the seats on the righthand side of the C206, including the co-pilot seat. I loaded extra fuel and flew into Murungu on 14 August to collect Bilu. It was a sad day loading him into the aeroplane. He looked like a mummy wrapped tightly in thick black plastic sheeting.

I started the engine, squashed my David Clarke’s over my bushpig curls, and called out blind on 118.20. ‘Murungu traffic, Charlie two-oh-six Tango-Golf-Tango getting airborne and climbing to flight level one-twofive on a flight to Arusha’.

I had brought my Walkman with me and decided to listen to classical music. It worked well for Bilu and I.

I thought about the many times that we shared meals around the campfire, regaling one another with endless bush stories. There were countless moments filled with laughter and joy.

From the thundering power of Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto to the delicate introspection of his Prelude in C-sharp minor, the music allowed me the opportunity to say a heartfelt ‘kwaheri’ to my friend.

The weather was clear for that time of year and within two hours the majestic shape of Kilimanjaro came into view. I touched down at Arusha airport where I braced myself to face Bilu’s traumatised family.

Filming of ‘In the Blood’ continued. On 19 August, we flew to the Ruvu Camp on the Maasai Steppe with the intention of filming the crocodiles that lived in the Ruvu River. Way out over the south-eastern plains, the cumulonimbus clouds were building up like mountain ranges, piling into the blue.

A rudimentary bush strip had been marked out with toilet paper held down with rocks. The windsock consisted of a ribbon of said toilet paper in a thorn tree, and it gyrated wildly in the grip of a dust devil. In the African bush, this lavatory staple was as widely used as duct tape.

I was shown to a small tent on the bank of the river where I would spend the night. My eyes instinctively scanned the area for signs of Africa’s most cantankerous animal, the hippo. However, this part of the river was deep and bubbled noisily over a cluster of big boulders that no crocodile or hippo could negotiate.

I eased myself into a camping chair and allowed the stress of the preceding days to ebb away with the water. This was the first chance that I’d had to have a proper look at the Roosevelt guns. I picked up the Big Stick and caressed the smooth brown walnut stock. I traced the intricate foliate scrolls that surrounded the actions and locks, imagining it in the hands of Theodore Roosevelt. Holding this rifle in my hands was a way for me to connect to the history of America, my home for many years, and to this great man who still ranks in the top five U.S. presidents of all time.

Alas, the object of our trip to Ruvu remained elusive. There was no glimpse of a gnarly hide or a stare from an unblinking yellow eye. The crew tried to lure the crocodiles out of the water with a cow carcass but somehow, they knew that it was a trap. It was this instinct that has enabled the species to survive for 240 million years.

It was not the outcome the film crew had hoped for. However, I’ll always remember the two days spent at Ruvu as a fitting tribute to a great friend.

he couldn’t outrun the flames

JOHN BASSI

PART 2

JOHN BASSI FLIES TAILDRAGGERS

IOPTED

TO START BY LEARNING

to handle a smaller taildragger first; master the less powerful aircraft and work my way up the ladder.

For the most part, all the aspects of flying are managed in the air, while the challenge in handling a taildragger occurs on the ground and in putting the plane on the ground in one piece.

The little Cheetah has the most amazing power to weight ratio and her sensitivity on the controls is awesome. From the beginning, the emphasis was

drilled into me, my instructor Andy Kasperson constantly urging me to plan ahead, so that the aircraft speed and configuration were what I needed them to be well in advance of performing a particular manoeuvre.

It would be a good day when the plane reached circuit altitude by the time I was abeam the numbers in the downwind leg. But in the Cheetah, with a little inattention, I could easily blow through circuit altitude and flaps-down speed if I didn’t start inching the throttle back once I was well off the ground.

Our inveterate helicopter pilot, John Bassi, decided he needed new challenges – so he bought a Cessna 185 and set out to learn to fly taildraggers.

One day when I am big I will fly my C185 Skywagon with confidence..until then I will dream.

Similarly, you cannot just cut the power abruptly to transition from cruise configuration to descent for a landing, the little aircraft glides forever, and so it was just a matter of repetition and patience on the part of my instructor until thinking two steps ahead became habitual.

Dealing with the handling of a taildragger on takeoff and (especially) landing was a much bigger challenge than I had ever imagined.

It’s taking me much longer to master those skills and I think that a big reason is that it’s hard to break down a taildragger landing into basic components so that I can see and feel each step and understand. Everything happens all at once, and it’s a blur.

the runway in a side by side aircraft does not mean pointing the nose cone down the centreline. NOOO, that would have you all over the place with the tail wheel ever-threatening to overtake the main wheels.

Eventually I discovered a little screw on the dash that lined my eyes up with the far end of the runway. But once the runway threshold is crossed, a rapid sequence of manoeuvres needs to occur in the right order and at the right pace, all the while keeping feet alive.

much longer to master those skills

To make it more interesting, all these manoeuvres vary according to wind direction and landing choice, as in a wheeler or a three pointer. You might spend several minutes per cycle in the traffic pattern, but the most critical aspects of the landing occur in a few brief seconds.

Final approach is much the same in a tricycle or taildragger. You keep the runway numbers “fixed” in your view by managing power, pitch and ailerons. You definitely have to think about the rudder (“feet alive”, Andy’s voice yelling at me on final) because a tailwheel plane must be pointed in the direction it’s traveling when it hits the ground.

It took me forever to realize that pointing straight down

I found landings difficult because it seemed impossible to break them down into components. I would keep my feet alive until the plane was over the numbers, then lock them in place (a no-no!) while shifting attention to ailerons, elevator and power control. Or I’d do the opposite. Perhaps here my age was working against me. My reduced mental flexibility was keeping me locked in the tricycle habit of essentially ignoring the rudder once the base-to-final turn had been completed.

A very brave Andy Casperson in his typical posture of flying cross control, attempting to impart some knowledge to me.

What a mission to just keep that darn ball in the middle!

I was stuck in this state for several frustrating lessons.

Eventually, Andy had the idea that I focus only on the rudder while he handled the yoke and throttle. This proved to be a breakthrough. By doing a dozen or so landings while restricting my attention to my feet, I developed a feeling for keeping my feet alive until the plane came to rest. As that habit became ingrained, I was able to add the other controls without neglecting the rudder.

There was one final detail which proved important. When landing a taildragger (or taking off or taxiing, for that matter) it is essential that the pilot be very sensitive to small changes in the direction the plane is pointing. As I said before, it is critical that the plane point in the direction of its velocity while on the ground. And one must be ready to quickly correct any small deviations. “Punch and jab” is a phrase commonly used to describe the foot motions necessary to maintain directional control with the rudder. The detail which was key for me dealt with this question: Where should my eyes be focused in order to have proper sensitivity to the aircraft’s pointing direction?

Certainly not in the cockpit. You are looking for information about the relationship between the plane and ground, and you need to look outside for that.

The runway centre line is not really what you want to focus on either. The plane could be moving parallel to the centre line but be crabbed left or right, a recipe for a ground loop.

You need to establish a view which enables you to sense the plane, centreline, and distant horizon at the same time, using your peripheral vision. Some like to focus on the end of the runway, but what seemed to work best for me was the “eyes in the sky” technique suggested by Andy. I would focus on a patch of sky maybe 5 degrees (a fist’s width at arm’s length) above the horizon. This way, all of the information about the plane’s motion was coming to me from my peripheral vision and I avoided getting fixated on a particular item in my direct view.

Once I’d gotten the hang of “feet alive” and monitoring the plane’s motion with my peripheral vision, things started to come together quickly.

The next step is to get all this fine-tuned with practice. Wheel landings and cross-wind wheel landings are going to be a matter of patience. I was initially trying to force the plane down and not letting it settle to the ground on its own. Landing on grass or gravel definitely appears more straightforward than tar.

Let’s hope my next battle with the Cheetah proves more fruitful. I’m really looking forward to the next step.

Andy Kasperson's Cheetah taildragger.

PEGASUS SHARES SALE

SOUTH AFRICAN-BASED AVIATION GROUP

Pegasus Universal Aerospace has announced that it has launched a new shares sale to raise capital for the next developmental stage of its ground-breaking Vertical Business Jet (VBJ) project.

Aimed at raising R17.4 billion, the sale will remain open for three months until 21 August 2023.

The company has made some six million Class A, seven-year preference shares available at an issue price of R2,900 per share, offering a fixed interest rate of 10% per annum. With a minimum transaction requirement of four shares per investor, this means that South Africans can play a role in accelerating the development of the project for just R11,600.

“The Pegasus Vertical Business Jet will be capable of runway take-offs as well as rapid vertical lift-off from any solid surface. This includes helipads, grass, wooden decks, and even moving surfaces such as yachts, transitioning air travel to door to door rather than airport to airport. This will completely transform the transportation landscape, with unprecedented time-saving advantages – especially for longer distances,” explains Dr Reza.

“But what truly sets this project apart from its contemporaries is that while companies such as Uber are developing air taxis with shorter

ranges, the Vertical Business Jet will be the first longrange business jet with vertical lift-off and landing capabilities, and a range of roughly 4,400km from a runway take-off, or 2,100km from a vertical lift-off.”

At an optimistic forecast, Pegasus estimates that it will sell close to 4,500 airplanes over a 15-year period resulting in income generation of up to nearly R90 billion.

It notes, however, that the preference shares are unlisted and should be considered a risk-capital investment. Capital invested in the preference shares, as well as the dividends and repayment on capital at redemption is not guaranteed, although Pegasus has secured investments in preference shares against the underlying assets of the company.

Artists impression of the Pegasus Vertcial Bizjetdoing a helicopter's job

ON MISINFORMATION PATIENCE AND GRACE.

PHOTOS AND VIDEOS of entirely routine training activities are frequently taken out of context and reinterpreted in the most uncharitable, cynical, and negative ways. Accidents, which are an unfortunate reality in any air force, are elevated to apparently catastrophic evidence of an inability to operate safely. In other cases, claims about what’s happening are invented out of thin air, yet always with an underlying message of incompetence and somehow still widely believed.

All too often, all of this is also accompanied by some level of racism by dinosaurs who have never let go of their prejudices, though that is by no means the only factor.

Whether the ‘Mabena’ meme, low-wit jokes about the SAAF running out of fuel or planes being stolen, or worse the outright mockery of air crew involved in accidents, much of the public and a fair portion of the media have allowed themselves to adopt a cruel and

twisted cynicism, one devoid of empathy or common humanity.

When a military helicopter crashes in much of the world, for instance, the general reaction is one of sombre sadness and serious toned-down reporting. In South Africa it’s all too often a weird form of glee from the public, a sick and twisted revelling in bad news beyond what’s justified, fed all too often by sensationalist reporting in the media.

Proposals for the acquisition of desperately needed new transport aircraft or helicopters are broadly condemned as a waste of money and have little public support, even though each time there’s a disaster the question becomes why the SAAF wasn’t doing more.

How did we get here? When did we decide that our justified anger at the mismanagement of our country should be redirected at the soldiers, air and ground

It has become a running joke that the general public, and much of the media, will always assume the worst of the South African Air Force (SAAF), and of the South African National Defence Force (SANDF) as a whole. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t” is a view commonly expressed in the force, along with a bemused questioning of whether anything they do will be sufficient to earn the public’s approval.

the media’s cynicism has tipped too far

crew, sailors, medics, civil servants, and others who staff our key institutions like the SANDF, and that they’re undeserving of understanding, respect, or empathy?

This is not to say, of course, that the SAAF and SANDF should be above criticism, or that they don’t have their fair share of stupid and condemnable actions. There have after all been plenty of mistakes, too many instances of corruption, and much poor decisionmaking that are all worth strongly criticising the senior leadership for. We should always hold these institutions up to the highest level of standards and expectations, and when criticism is due we should not hold back. That’s necessary if we’re to have accountability.

and SANDF who are doing their best under trying circumstances and it creates an environment where successes can’t be recognised and encouraged.

That’s unhealthy for the SAAF, harmful for civilmilitary relations in general, and harmful for the country over the long run.

harmful for civilmilitary relations in general

But the extent of the general public and media’s cynicism has tipped too far in the opposite direction. It continually hurts the morale of those in the SAAF

It’s time for a serious rethink of the SAAF and SANDF’s role in society and of the way each of the public, the SANDF, and the media view each other.

First, it’s time for some pragmatism about what’s actually possible for a force with the level of funding the SAAF receives. The days of the huge defence budgets of the 1980s are long gone and weren’t sustainable or affordable back then either, so any comparisons with the SAAF of that era in terms of operating tempo, number of aircraft and flying hours are as nonsensical as other wartime to peacetime comparisons.

The chronically underfunded SAAF cannot afford to replace assets such as this C130, which means tough decisions must be made.

Today’s SAAF receives just R7 billion or so a year, which may seem like a large amount but is substantially lower in real terms than it was in the early 1990s. In fact, when adjusting for both the rate of inflation and exchange rate changes, the current SAAF budget should probably be around R30 billion to achieve the same buying power as the SAAF’s budget in 1993. And that was already a more than 50% cut from the SAAF’s budget in 1991/1992, itself a cut from 1989/1990.

The current level of funding has been too low for too long to sustain many capabilities, and without an urgent intervention entire fleets and types will have to be retired. It’s really important for the public and media to have a realistic understanding of not only what the current force can do, but what would be reasonably possible with a more suitable level of spending. It will never get back to the same level as the 1980s, and if we allow people to believe that’s the point of comparison then even outsized success will be misinterpreted as failure.

This doesn’t mean accepting poor performance, being happy with mediocrity, or accepting a hollowed out force. On the contrary, it’s only by having an accurate understanding of what the current situation is and what’s possible, that you can hold the government properly accountable for long enough to force real change.

Informed and focused criticism will always beat angry and misdirected cynicism.

Second, the SAAF, and SANDF as a whole, must understand that they need, not only the support of the public and the media, but they need to constantly educate them so that they understand what the force does, and how it does it. So that they become immune to misinformation about the force, are more aware of what it can do, and what it can’t do, and why. And most importantly, so that they come to trust in the SAAF as an organisation.

That’s going to require a complete change in the way the force treats the public and media, moving from a stance of secret-by-default and over-classifying

reflect on our prejudices and cynicism

When the SAAF has a crash the criticism is often unreasonable. Image- Deaan Vivier.

everything to one that’s painfully and awkwardly open and transparent. It will mean letting the public and media see not just the carefully prepared and stagemanaged face shown at air shows or in official PR material, but also the ugly side. The decay, the painful realities, and the real face of a force struggling to keep going despite a ludicrously underfunded budget.

It will also mean being far more proactive in responding to viral social media misinformation or misunderstandings, and in publishing many more stories, photos, and videos of the force doing its daily work such as helicopter, transport, or fighter aircraft flights to get the public used to what the force does on a regular basis.

Third, it’s going to require enough of us being willing to self-reflect on our prejudices, lost empathy, and cynicism, and then committing to be more empathetic,

informed, understanding, patient, and respectful toward our armed forces personnel in future.

While not all of those in the SAAF and SANDF are deserving of it, there are so many who break their backs and burn themselves out trying to keep things running smoothly despite all the problems. Every time we call on the SAAF, whether for disaster response, or search and rescue, or anything else, those personnel move heaven and earth to provide the air crew, aircraft, and other resources needed to get the job done.

If we want those types of people to stay in the force and feel rewarded and appreciated, then we as the public need to start recognising them for it. 

resources needed to get the job done

JEFFREY KEMPSON

VEE-TALES

IFLEW AN ATTRACTIVE YELLOW and blue machine ZS-JPI, (featured in the June edition of SA Flyer) and I was accompanied by a second blue and white V-tail, whose registration I no longer recall.

Each aircraft carried three passengers plus the pilot and baggage to cover a four-night stay. Two nights to be

spent in one game lodge, before being air transferred to a second lodge to provide a different variety of wildlife options over the following two days.

The charter company providing these flights normally operated Cessna 210 Centurion on this contract. These could carry five passengers and had a separate baggage bay. They also had an extra hour of fuel endurance.

One fine day a pair of Beechcraft V-tail Bonanzas took off from Lanseria, bound for Maun in Botswana, there to clear immigration and customs, prior to delivering the upmarket clients to luxury tourist lodges in the Okavango Delta.

The V-Tail Bonnie was fast - but it was not an ideal charter plane. Image Garth Calitz.

However, none were available for this particular charter, and as only eight passengers were involved, the Bonanzas were being used. The baggage fitted into the rear of the aircraft where the sixth passenger could be accommodated, if no significant luggage was carried.

All Bonanzas are very well built, and a pleasure to fly. Though ten knots faster than the C210, the Centurion’s extra hour of fuel endurance and separate baggage area allowed five passengers to be squeezed in, making it a more useful, and cost efficient machine for air charter companies.

With my load of tourists boarded, I took off on the then Runway 06 in brilliant morning sunshine. Turning left at 500ft on the climb out, I looked back at the airport to see the blue and white V-tail Bonnie getting airborne immediately behind us.

I climbed to ten and a half thousand feet to try and minimise the effect of expected light turbulence later in the morning, caused by rising thermals over the Kalahari Desert.

About an hour later the following Bonanza radioed me to advise that they were flying formation on me, just behind, and to the right. I looked over my shoulder and enjoyed the unusual sight of the blue and white machine sparkling in the sunlight.

Unfortunately I didn’t have a camera handy, and as I watched, the other plane moved slightly in an updraft.

Not having experienced previous formation training, I suggested the blue Bonnie drop back a couple of hundred metres, which he did, for my peace of mind.

However, I noticed something that I had not on other aircraft, looking back again over my right shoulder my gaze fastened on the large rear seat passenger. As I watched, I could visibly see the horizon moving laterally behind his neck. The aircraft was fishtailing slightly.

I looked for a yaw damper switch, but none was evident. So I mentioned to the passengers that in the unlikely event of anyone feeling ill there were sick packets located in the pockets at the back of the seats.

The barf bag is an essential item of on-board equipment.

The passengers in the two middle seats mentioned to me that they were Pretoria based surgeons, and did not expect to need them. Likewise, the lady who had requested the front seat next to me said that she was an experienced light aircraft passenger and did not anticipate any ill effects.

Two hours forty five minutes later (fifteen minutes quicker than a C210 normally took for the same trip in still air) I landed at Maun, and turned off the runway at the first intersection. Looking back, I saw the blue and white Bonnie on short final approach.

Clearing the runway, I taxied and parked next to the fuel pumps. Very shortly after, the blue and white Bonnie caught up and parked nearby. I pulled out the fuel mixture to cut my engine, and as the propeller slowed down and stopped, the Bonanza gently rocked back and sat on its tail skid. Moments later the blue Bonnie cut its engine, and also rocked back to rest on its tail, nose high in the air.

The Bonanza fuel tanks are ahead of the wing spar and thus the CofG. Having burnt off fuel, and with the weight of the middle row and rear seat passengers plus rear loaded baggage, the centre of gravity had moved to behind the main wheels, although the aircraft’s flying characteristics had not been compromised.

“Have you folk got gold bars in your luggage?” I asked.

Just then, to our bad luck, a notoriously officious gent who had recently taken an inspector’s position with the Botswana Department of Civil Aviation, strode across the apron towards us.

This worthy, shortly after occupying his office in the capital of Gaborone had issued a decree that all light aircraft transiting from South Africa to northern Botswana were now required to make a mandatory landing at Gaborone, to have their aircraft documents inspected. This delay necessitated a costly, and time-consuming diversion while this process was undertaken.

Several pilots suggested to him that the edict was unnecessary, and that while he may have been within his rights to inspect aircraft documents, he should station a DCA official at the busy tourist airport in Maun to undertake this task.

I later learned on good authority that the South African Department of Civil Aviation had brought political pressure to bear on the Botswana Civil Aviation fellow, to “Desist” with this practice on pain of tit for tat restrictions being placed on Botswana registered aircraft visiting SA.

Anyway, this petty bureaucrat was bearing down on us. So, I exited the aircraft, and deplaned the rear passengers, whereupon, unsurprisingly the aircraft rocked back onto all three wheels. My colleague in the blue Bonnie did the same, and I suggested that we had better take on a lot fuel for our next legs to keep the centre of gravity further forward.

The officious civil servant stopped in front of me, and before he could utter a word, I said; ‘I have heard a great deal about you, and none of it is pleasant. We are two professional pilots going about our lawful occasions, and if you wish to cross swords with me, I’ll accommodate you with relish.” He placed his hands on his hips and said, ‘Not very professional looking to me.”

I responded, “We did not feel it necessary to weigh the passengers luggage, neither did I design the aircraft. This load of baggage does not cause this situation in the Cessna Centurion we normally use for these trips.”

To my surprise, the truculent gentleman turned on his heel, and stormed off.

Happily, the matter ended there. No official letters or phone calls followed.

After refuelling and completing immigration and customs formalities we boarded our passengers, and took off. The blue Bonnie first, bound for Savuti in the north, and me to drop off one passenger at Khwai

“Have you folk got gold bars in your luggage?”

River lodge, then to follow on to Savuti with the others pax for an alfresco lodge lunch, and afternoon game drive.

Once airborne I climbed to three hundred feet to allow the larger species of wild game to be viewed below during the twenty three minute flight.

The lodge manager, sitting in the back seat gave a knowledgeable running commentary on the area, and the type of animals that came into view. Then abruptly fell silent.

As we passed a herd of elephant, I turned around to see why he had stopped talking. His face had taken on an unhealthy greenish hue, as the aircraft bumped occasionally in the light turbulence.

“Hang on” I said, “We’ll be on the ground in ten minutes.”

Then to my memorable surprise, one of the surgeons occupying a middle seat, opened a large cardboard Solly Kramer bottle store carry bag and extracted a bottle of whisky. He handed the cardboard carry bag to the ill rear seat passenger and said, “Here, use this. You can put the handles over your ears, and use your hands to brace yourself.”

I couldn’t help laughing. When I looked around I saw this comical suggestion had been followed. I laughed

out load. It may have been bad manners, but it was an extraordinary sight. The poor fellow was retching copiously into the bag.

A few minutes later I landed at Khwai River lodge and after taxiing to a stop, the two large male surgeons carried the very ill game lodge employee out of the plane. They laid him flat on his back on the grass verge beside the runway, placed his small suitcase, and used bottle store carry bag nearby, then wished him a speedy recovery, as he waved an enfeebled goodbye.

In the distance I noticed the lodge vehicle moving towards the aircraft to collect the now prone passenger, so we reboarded, and quickly took off, looking forward to lunch, and a pleasant stay at the more northern Savuti game lodge.

About three years later, I was sitting in the concourse of the Gaborone airport, waiting for my returning Johannesburg charter passengers to arrive, when I noticed the once ill former passenger browsing in the bookstore. I walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. When he looked around, I asked, “Hello, are you feeling better now?”

His blank look turned to recognition, and he said; “You basterd!” Then he smiled and shook my hand. I never saw him again. 

Maun Airport in the 1970s is a far cry from the modern terminal it has become.

South Africa

BACKPAGE DIR ECT ORY

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Windhoek Flight Training Centre Thinus Dreyer 0026 40 811284 180 pilots@flywftc.com www.flywftc.com

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Witbank Flight School Andre De Villiers 083 604 1718 andredv@lantic.net www.waaflyingclub.co.za

Wonderboom Airport Peet van Rensburg 012 567 1188/9 peet@wonderboomairport.co.za www.wonderboomairport.co.za

Zandspruit Bush & Aero Estate Martin Den Dunnen 082 449 8895 martin@zandspruit.co.za www.zandspruit.co.za

Zebula Golf Estate & SPA Reservations 014 734 7700 reception@zebula.co.za www.zebula.co.za