OurStory

BY
RICHARD BRADSHAW

This article describes my day-to-day life as an eight to twelve year-old boy growing up at Thornhill during the period 1958 to 1962. Air Force life directly or indirectly influenced my early life and one of the objectives of the article is to recall life in this period and some of the highlight events.

The late 1950s and early 1960s were a period in which the Air Force was small but actively equipping itself with new aircraft. It was also a period when the number of Air Force personnel grew considerably. Most importantly for us children, it was a period of relaxed lifestyle and, for our parents, a time free of the stresses of the subsequent terrorist war in the 1970s and 1980s.

The events are recollected some 50 years later and there may be inaccuracies in the stories, but I trust that, despite its length, the article will recall pleasant memories for many, particularly those of the older generation of whom so few now remain.

A geographic frame of reference

For a youngster, the ‘world’ I lived in was small comprising mainly the greater Thornhill precinct with the occasional trips into town and of course to school. My frame of reference could thus be described in the following way.

We, my Father Dennis, Mother Cynthia and my brother Chris, seven years my junior, lived at 87 Married Quarters, Thornhill. The house was located in the far southeastern corner of the Married Quarters patch and we looked eastwards across vast, open, flat grassland with scattered patches of trees. Some 300m to the southeast were the ruins of an old farmyard with its hand packed kraal walls, covered in places with lantana bushes, its cactus infestation and a derelict windmill. The Gwelo River meandered lazily through farmland 2km to the south.

Doctor Dawber lived next door to the north of us. Mac Geering, and variously, Colin Graves/Bob Woodward, Charles Paxton/Tony Chisnall, Charlie Goodwin and Sandy Mutch occupied houses in succession northwards up our side of the block.

Mike Gedye lived behind us with Keith Kemsley diagonally to the back. An open, small parcel of land, which had been designated as a play park that was never developed, stood to the south of Mike Gedye's and our house. Mick McLaren lived next to the Gedye's. Porky McLauchlin and Alan Bradnick lived further north up the road.

Across the road from them were variously Peter Cook, Terry Weston, Noompie Phillips and others.

The CO's house was occupied, I think, by Archie Wilson, then John Moss and then John Deall.

Ted Brent or was it Chris Dams lived to the east of the CO's house with Jimmy Pringle to their east? Harvey Quayle, the 'Met Man' was a civvie who occupied the last house in the Married Quarters. I think at some time Doctor Fine also occupied the Pringle's house.

Driving towards the air station from our house, we would pass the senior single offices quarters on the right, before turning left down the hill. Glengarry School for special needs children was immediately to the left. I understand the school was relocated and the officer's mess was moved to the school in later years.

On crossing the railway line and the Umvuma Road and passing through the nominally guarded security gates, SSQ was to the left. At the circle, the '9 o'clock' road went down to the officers mess, passing a rabbit's warren of a multi-purpose building that was partly used as a gym, a movie and play theatre, and a construction area for a glider. A small prison, which housed a team of convicts which were used for gardening services, was located beyond this building.

Just before the officer's mess, tennis courts stood to the right of the road, with the large sportsfield stretching some distance to the north. A much-used swimming pool stood in the southwestern corner of the sportsfield.

The station canteen was accessed via the '10 o'clock' road off the circle. Station Headquarters was at '12 o'clock' and a road that led to the hangers extended from the '1 o'clock' position. At that time, there was a building including, I think, the old control tower in the central part of the hard-standing area. OC Flying's office was located at the western end of this building and many were the times when all conversation must have stopped in that office while screaming jets taxied past.

The extreme southern end of this hard-standing was used infrequently when routine commercial flights (CAA?) served Gwelo.

The trip into town involved re-crossing the railway line. The large police property was on the left as you approached Gwelo and the SPCA kennels and the Dairy Den were on the right as you entered town. The Midlands Hotel, Bogie's Clock, Meikles Store and the Municipal Offices were familiar landmarks in town. Sports clubs, a motel, the School of Infantry and particularly the huge Bata Factory were landmarks as one drove westwards towards the Bulawayo road.

Day to day life

School activities occupied a large part of life. Riverside Junior School, where Bill Magnus was the Headmaster, was the preferred school for many, and lift clubs run by mothers dropped us off and collected us at lunchtime.

Early rises and early lights out were a feature induced by the early (06h00) start to the station's workday.

Afternoons and particularly school holidays provided ample opportunity for us to socialise and get up to mischief. A bicycle, preferably with a much-admired three-speed, was the main mode of transport.

There were numerous kids on the station. I remember, among others, the Geering, Gedye, Fine, Rose, Maskell, Salmon, Graves, Paxton, Chisnall, Weston and the Pringle children who were all about my age. Dave Moss and the Mitchell boys were among the older kids, the latter as tough as teak and much feared/admired.

The 'playground' included the bush around us. The station swimming pool with its chlorine saturated water was a major draw card in summer. You had 'arrived' when you could dive off the high board.

Occasionally, tennis tournaments were organised by the parents and I remember at least one athletics sports day.

Guy Fawkes was celebrated with suitable pyrotechnics enthusiastically run by volunteers with pyromaniac tendencies. Great was the excitement on one occasion when a stray spark entered a box of fireworks and triggered an unrehearsed side display.

Influences on my life

In retrospect, living in the unique situation of the station married quarters, several people outside the family circle inevitably had a significant influence on me and possibly did not realise it at the time. These people included Mac Geering, Keith Kemsley and to a lesser extent Peter Cooke and others by default.

Mac Geering lived two houses up the road. He had a well-equipped workshop in his garage and I spent many hours in there watching and helping him service cars and doing woodwork. In addition, he had a super cool car - a Ford Zephyr - and two very pretty daughters. He also kept racing pigeons.

Keith Kemsley was more of mechanical man with a well-equipped workshop. I remember two stories about him. He had an Alsatian dog which took to hunting in combination with another dog in the open veld near us and one day these dogs herded a buck into the backyard of the Kemsley's property. I have never heard of such herding before or after. My father and the Alsatian shared a pet hate. Keith decided, possibly in a moment of madness or hereditary passion, to learn to play the bagpipes. He would stand in his backyard and play the instrument accompanied by the howling of the dog and the gentle rattle of stones thrown onto his roof by my father.

Peter Cooke was also a great garage workshop man and I remember he had several interesting projects one of which was the production of a stripped down car which he raced along firebreaks to the south of us.

Another person influencing my approach to life was the Station Security Officer (was it Jack Salter?). More about him later!

'Special projects'

With the enthusiasm and lifelong interest in things mechanical engendered by Mac Geering and Keith Kemsley, it was not long before I embarked on some of my own engineering projects. Before this could commence, tools were required and, unusually for one so young, Christmas and birthday lists were full of requests for electric tools, ring spanners, screwdrivers and the like.

With the tools at hand and some advice and a little help from Mac Geering in particular, three projects were undertaken.

The first involved dismantling the old windmill on the abandoned farm near the married quarters and using the angle iron to construct a pigeon loft at 87 Married Quarters.

The second involved construction of the soapbox replete with a bonnet made from flattened corrugated iron that was bent and cut to shape. Pram wheels and a car steering wheel were sourced from a Gwelo scrapyard after match nagging to be taken into town. However, the proudly completed soapbox unfortunately had an initial glitch, a serious one if memory serves me correctly. Every time the steering wheel was turned left, the soapbox turned right and vice versa. Intrepid young motor enthusiasts are not too concerned by such trifles and the maiden run down the hill outside Glengarry School soon finished spectacularly in the adjacent drainage ditch. However, some more mechanically minded adult spectator pointed out that the cord between the shaft from the steering wheel and the front axle was incorrectly wound. Once we had fixed the problem, many safe and exciting rides were made.

The final project was a magnum opus or so we thought. Some empty, small chemical drums were sourced from the Station Fire Section and a raft was duly constructed in the garage. These were the days before segmental construction became the norm but this was not going to be a problem because we would merely press-gang a gardener or two for the 1.5km transportation of this heavy, ungainly object. When threats and promises of a few additional cool drinks failed to spur the labourers, more gardeners were summoned and even Dave Moss and a visiting friend. Even then, the job was beyond the team and we partly dismantled the raft and carried it down to the river. It was launched as HMS Raft and we had great fun punting it along the muddy ponds in the river. Of course interest waned with time and the raft was abandoned. I have often speculated what the good citizens of Gwelo thought when the raft inevitably broke free and floated serenely through downtown Gwelo when the first big flood occurred.

A life lesson

I learnt a serious life lesson late in our stay at Thornhill.

After a cinema evening at the multi-purpose building, young Salmon, Chisnall and I told our parents that we would walk home. Our objective was devious - we would walk through the married quarters and roof rattle. This involved throwing stones onto a roof and running away while the stone clattered down the target roof and disturbed the house's occupants.

All went well as we made a thorough nuisance on our way back to 87 Married Quarters. Then we made the fatal mistake of attacking Harvey Quayle's house just across the open plot near home.

All three of us threw stones. Two hit the roof and there was one undershoot, a serious undershoot right through the big picture window in Harvey's bedroom.

Caught by surprise, we ran onto our property and before the others sneaked off home. Harvey, apparently after a lifetime of difficult prediction of met conditions, got this one right and fingered us.

The next day I spent with HMS Raft but unknown to me the other two were rounded up by the military police and taken to the guardroom.

When I arrived back from the river, I was told how they had concocted a story about throwing stones at an owl and that I should corroborate this unlikely story.

No sooner had I been 'briefed' than a military vehicle arrived and delivered me to the guardroom. The procedure was identical to that imposed on the other two. I was interrogated, made to produce a signed statement and then locked in the cells while they 'checked with Gwelo CID'.

We were all given a warning and only later found out that our parents were party to the whole operation.

We were all treated like heroes by our friends afterwards, but I was terrified at the time and rather glad that it was underpants wash day the next day.

In retrospect, it was a classic case of teaching a lesson without meting out unnecessary, heavy-handed punishment. I have had a healthy respect for the police and the clever management of people ever since.

And the window? Well, pocket money contributions from three miscreants paid for its repair.

Aircraft crashes

Sadly, occasional accidents claimed the lives of several airmen. Two of these men were relatively well known to me and their deaths and the events around the crashes were indelibly imprinted in my young mind.

The first was Colin Graves' death in an accident which happened during a formation aerobatics exercise. It must have been during school holidays because I was at the Chisnall’s house. In order to get a better view of the aerobatics, we climbed a tree in the garden. With the leaves impeding our view, the two of us crept slowly outwards along a branch which snapped. The mid air collision occurred while we were dusting ourselves off.

As a post script, I remember playing with the Graves children that evening. I seem to remember they enjoyed the additional attention little comprehending in their and our young minds the real tragedy of the situation.

The other accident I remember was Jack Roberts who, I believe, flew a Vampire into the summit of a hill near Selukwe. He was a young, unmarried pilot who had been hospitalised at the same time as I was a few months before his death, me for an appendectomy and he for a knife wound suffered horsing around in the squadron offices. He spent his daytime hours amusing himself making me laugh so that I pulled the stitches and would grimace in pain. His nights were spent in intimate discussions with a good-looking night sister. I think he was discussing astro navigation and angles of attack, but I never had the courage to ask him!

Sports

Cricket and rugby dominated the sporting codes at Thornhill, but golf, tennis, water polo and squash, where Eddie Wilkinson was a leading player, were also supported.

Cricket was my sporting interest and Thornhill had a useful team in the late 1950's an early 1960's. The number of clubs in the Midlands was limited, so Chaplin and Guinea Fowl First Teams played in the first league. Varkevisser and particularly Jeff Kruger were a feared opening bowling partnership. Mitchell provided the spin and Eric Cary was an elegant if somewhat erratic batsmen. Thornhill won the league on at least one occasion.

Ossie and Dux Deysel were the big names in the local league. I believe Dux subsequently joined the Air Force. I think he also played fullback for the Rhodesian rugby team.

Rugby was enthusiastically followed but I have no specific memories save for the fact that the away matches against Selukwe and the like were reputedly tough and difficult to win. One-eyed referees and home town decisions were a continuous source of frustration.

Miscellaneous memories

The following potpourri of memories might bring back thoughts of Thornhill for the older members of the service and comparisons from the younger.

• The visits by various Lone Ranger and other aircraft from the Royal Air Force and the French Air Force. These included the visits by the Venom squadrons, and the more exciting visits from the Gloster Javelin and Mirage fighters that thrilled us with high-speed aerobatic displays.

• Peter Cooke, BAT Maskell, Mac Geering, Voce and others who were part of the air traffic control crew sequestered on the far side of the airfield.

• A successful airshow which was fortunately not chaotic like the one at New Sarum in later years.

• The pupil pilots battling to master the swing of the Provosts on opening the throttle and starting their take-off run.

• The arrival of the Canberras with their silver metallic finish and black noses forward of the cockpit. Their arrival also heralded an influx of new navigators among whom I think were John Digby, Doug Pasea, Terry Bennett, Don Brenchley and many others.

• The air blast from the cartridge starting systems in the Canberras, well before the RhAF designed compressed air starter system was invented.

• The series of wheels-up landings of the Canberras until the fault was identified and fixed.

• The special smell of aircraft and the dope paint in the hangers.

• The cheerful whistles and voices of the Tech’s, which echoed round the hangars, as they worked on the aircraft.

• The problems in the Belgian Congo which resulted in the Royal Air Force airlifting refugees to Thornhill. The refugees were flown in a Blackburn Beverley, surely one of the biggest and ugliest aircraft to have graced Thornhill. Doc and Zena Fine housed a family of refugees for a period.

• The visit by the Queen Mother, I think in 1960.

• Wives shopping at the canteen. Everything was ordered verbally across the counter so everyone knew your shopping habits and lists.

• The occasional trips to Salisbury, sometimes on the overnight train and sometimes by car. Am I correct in remembering that the road in the late 1950’s was, shall we say, rudimentary and I seem to remember sections of nine foot mat or was it the famous strip roads?

• The afternoon performance of the railway’s work gang as they returned to home base in Gwelo. In the morning, this gang pushed a work trolley uphill past the station. However in the afternoon, gravity took over and the trolley would speed downhill accompanied by shouting and banging of metal; objects to alert personnel driving across the crossing between the married quarters and the station.

• The various activities in the multi-purpose building. These included:

o Harvey Quayle and others constructed a glider in these buildings over a period of time. When it was ready for its first flight test, it was moved on a Sunday up to the main runway where it was attached to Peter Cooke’s large car which towed it into the air for a series of short hops. Bob Woodward was the test pilot. All went well and I believe that the glider was subsequently moved to the gliding club near Whitewaters Dam.

o A hall area acted as a part time cinema with an old reel-to-reel projector clattering away at the back of a hall. The movies were generally well attended and sweets, chips and cool drinks could be purchased while the reels were changed.

The same venue acted as a theatre where a small, but enthusiastic group of theatre minded individuals of whom, I think, the Kirks were leading lights. I remember at least two plays being produced by this group.

A gym was constructed in part of the building. A boxing ring formed part of the gym and we were encouraged to don gloves and head guards and bash away at each other under the watchful eye of, I think, the Mitchell's Dad. I do remember that those who acted tough in the school playgrounds and around the station were often not as tough as they would like us to believe.

Richard Bradshaw
15 August 2009
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Thanks to Richard for sharing this insight to what must have been a wonderful time at Thornhill.
Tag. Rhodesian Air Force