100 Years of Flying in Botswana

The following was originally published as a series of articles on Pilot's Post, but then formed the basis for the first chapters of Botswana National Airways. This book told the story of aviation in Botswana from 1920 until 1970 and is available as a paperback or ebook - see Botswana National Airways

Botswana marked 100 years of flight in 2020 and Palapye airfield celebrated being one of the oldest aerodromes in the world. Coincidentally, the first aeroplane to land there was a South African Air Force DH-9 and this service also recorded its centenary in 2020. This series of articles will look how the Bechuanaland Protectorate came to contribute to one of the great early long-distance flights, from London to Cape Town.

When the guns fell silent at eleven o'clock on November the eleventh, 1918, bringing to a close the Great War, one would have thought there would have been a period of rest and reflection as the victors collected their thoughts. One would have been wrong. Just over three weeks after the armistice came into effect, a telegram arrived in Mafeking on the 28th, the seat of British power in Bechuanaland, announcing that a flight to Cape Town was being planned and that preparations should start immediately in order to support such a venture. When it is considered that at the start of the conflict, only four years earlier, aeroplanes were still very much a novelty that struggled to get into the air with a useful load, it is a valid question to ask how such an ambitious flight could even be considered.

This unit needed effective aircraft and these were separated into what would become known as 'medium' and 'heavy' bombers. The former was represented by the excellent Airco DH.4 and its successor, the DH.9. The DH4 was a fast (its designer Geoffrey de Havilland later credited it as an inspiration for his WWII Mosquito) single engine, biplane with a two-man crew. It could carry just over 200kg of bombs, yet its performance was similar to or better than contemporary fighters. Its only real weakness was the large gap between gunner and pilot that made communication difficult. This was one of the improvements of the DH.9, an aircraft that suffered from an unreliable engine and only achieved its full potential when a new powerplant was found for what became the DH.9A - a type that would serve the RAF until 1930.

The DH.10 entered service just in time to fly a single bombing mission, and it terms of performance, fell half way between the DH9 and the O/400. It was soon overshadowed by the Vickers Vimy, which entered service too late in the war to make it to the frontline but was to become the mainstay of the RAF's bomber force for the next decade - it actually served in secondary roles until 1938! Powered by reliable Rolls Royce Eagle VIII engines and with a top speed of 100mph, a bomb load of 1,123 kg, and a range of 900 miles, it represented the height of technology in 1918.

The Vimy would be used in a series of long-distance flights, culminating in the South African attempt. The first of these was Alcock and Brown's crossing of the Atlantic in the summer of 1919 in a Vimy modified to carry extra fuel tanks. They claimed a cash prize of £10,000 originally offered by the Daily Mail in 1913 to "the aviator who shall first cross the Atlantic in an aeroplane in flight from any point in the United States of America, Canada or Newfoundland to any point in Great Britain or Ireland in 72 continuous hours." It should be noted that the Vimy's crossing was eight years before Lindbergh's solo crossing of Atlantic.

While these two amazing achievements were being made, a Cairo to Cape Town air route was having its finishing touches made. This route consisted of a series 24 airfields and 19 emergency landing grounds that were created from scratch from a series of desert outposts, tropical jungle strips and grassland landing grounds. To take on such a mammoth tasks, three RAF work parties had been sent out to carve out these virgin aerodromes to specific specifications. Unlike modern airports with their long runways, these early airfields were simply large (roughly 750 m by 750 m) squares, allowing aircraft to take and land into the wind, no matter what the direction of the breeze. This mammoth effort had started in January 1919 under the guidance of Major General Salmond, the CO of the RAF in the Near East. He organised three working parties to carve out these 43 aerodromes. The first worked from Cairo to Lake Victoria, the next section (and most challenging due to combination of tropical forest, lack of roads, and tsetse fly) covered the route south until the southern tip of Lake Tanganyika. The final stretch through to the Cape was led by Major Court Treatt.

Geoffrey Salmond had given much thought to the future of aviation in the region, seeing beyond the military connotations. He worked his plans on three principles. The first was that mail was going to provide the financial incentive. Secondly, loads must be large enough to cover their costs. Finally, the cost of maintenance must be built into any scheme. He calculated that any flight covering 1,000 miles would likely have to charge £500 for its load. Others, such as the then Prince of Wales, were looking at the benefits to the Empire. He said that geography would aid aviation and aviation would help geography when it came to moving around the Empire - he dreamt of flying to distant outposts rather than travelling by sea.

Bechuanaland was chosen to host a halfway point between Bulawayo and Pretoria partly because it lay on the railway line to the Rhodesian city. Palapye Road (now just Palapye) was chosen for its central location on the railway, despite being only a very small village at the time. However, it was near to the recently abandoned capital of Khama III, one of the most powerful chiefs in the Protectorate - indeed, he was one of the three leaders to travel to England in the late 1800's to ask Queen Victoria for British protection, ensuring that Bechuanaland kept a large measure of independence. When the water failed at Old Palapye (about 15km east of the railway), the Bangwato moved their capital to Serowe. This was quite an undertaking as the population was more than 30,000 at the time. Palapye Road was also on top on the Duke of Connaught's fact finding mission to the protectorate in 1910.

Khama III had a reputation as an enlightened leader (he was also known as Khama the Good) and not only was he happy to supply the labour to clear the ground at Palapye Road, which fell within his tribal land, but also created another suitable landing ground at Serowe, roughly 45 km to the west. Khama was content to cover the full costs of the aerodrome at his capital, but he requested that the British cover the expense of maintaining the field at Palapye. This was readily agreed to (the cost was estimated at £50 per annum) and a store of petrol and oil was shipped to the new aerodrome.

So, by the end of 1919 a practical air route covering nearly 4,500 miles of British controlled African territory was in place and the aircraft capable of covering such a route had already proved themselves on two other mammoth flights. The only question was who would be the first to actually fly to Cape Town.

Mondays in January in the United Kingdom can be bleak, dreary affairs, but at Brooklands aerodrome, there was excitement on the twenty-fourth day of 1920, as Vickers Vimy Commercial G-EAAV took off on its first leg on the way to Cape Town. In distant Palapye, a small village in the Bechuanaland Protectorate, preparations for its arrival into quite different conditions had started months before.

June 1919 saw much communication between Mafeking and Palapye Road, the effective capital of the Bechuanaland protectorate and a small settlement on the railway roughly halfway to Bulawayo. F.H. Kirkman was excited enough by the prospect of an aeroplane visiting his home in Palapye that he wrote to Mr Macgregor to discuss possible arrangements for the welcome and refreshment of the gallant airmen. Lunch, breakfast, and even midnight suppers were discussed. Kirkman thought the aircraft would arrive within a month based on stories in The Times, while Mafeking felt October was the most likely. Lieutenant John Holthouse, in Pretoria, advised them to expect two machines by late August. Fortunately, Palapye waited before preparing the refreshments - however, the airfield would later gain a reputation for its snacks provided by the Palapye Hotel.

While the British government had invested much money and manpower in creating the route from Cairo to Cape Town, added interest and incentive to be the first to complete the journey was provided by Lord Northcliffe, owner of the Daily Mail and Times Newspapers. He offered the same prize money, £10,000, as he had for the first crew to cross the Atlantic for the first aeroplane to arrive at the Cape. This money attracted four serious teams.

Its rotund fuselage was capable of carrying eight passengers in relative comfort, with large wicker chairs providing the seating. For the Cape trip, five of these were removed to allow spares, tools, and more fuel to be carried. Two of the remaining three seats were taken up by Sergeant Major James Wyatt (mechanic), Clarence Corby (rigger). The final seat was reserved for Dr Mitchell, a Times journalist, who would join the party in Cairo.

Second to leave was the Handley Page O/400 piloted by Major Herbert Brackley, DSO, DSC, and Captain Frederick Tymms, MC. Brackley had failed to cross the Atlantic in the four engine 0/1500 and was desperate to win the latest cash prize. Sticking to a Handley Page aircraft, he won sponsorship from the Daily Telegraph. One of the big rivals to Northcliffe's papers, the Telegraph was determined to raise its own profile while at the same time taking the money from the rival newspaper baron. The 0/400 used was a standard bomber with armament removed and it departed from Cricklewood for le Bourget (Paris) on January 25.

The next aeroplane to depart was one of only three Airco DH.14's built. The DH.14 was designed to replace the DH.9 and looked like a scaled-up version of the 'Nine' but with a much bigger and more reliable engine. The aircraft used for the race was intended to be used for the transatlantic crossing and the race to Australia, but was not completed in time for either. It was modified with an enclosed cabin and extra fuel tanks and was piloted by Sidney Cotton - famous at the time for his 'Sidcot' flying suit.

Taking off almost simultaneously with the DH.14 was another Vickers Vimy, this time a standard bomber version - though with armament removed and painted in a smart silver scheme. It also had specially modified engines to cope with the difficult conditions expected on the African leg of the journey. This aircraft had been purchased by the South African Government on the orders of now Prime Minister, Jan Smuts. Smuts was truly 'air minded' and had not only sat in the Imperial War Cabinet but had played a pivotal role in the creation of the Royal Air Force. Despite his excellent relations with London, he was still proud of his Afrikaans roots and was determined that the race should be won by a South African. G-UABA, aptly named 'Silver Queen', took to the air at 7.30 on the morning of February 4, a full ten days after the first Vimy had departed.

The South African team had a lot of catching up to do by the time they departed. The front runners, Cockrell and Broome, in their Vimy Commercial were already in Cairo and working on their Rolls Royce Eagle engines. The Eagle had already developed a reputation for overheating in 'hot and high' conditions, not helped be their water-cooling system which was susceptible to leaks. Various tweaks to the systems were being implemented by their ground crew to try and improve their reliability for the most challenging part of the trip.

The Telegraph sponsored Handley Page team were in Italy by this time, but had been delayed by tragedy. When trying to leave Brindisi, the aircraft's right undercarriage became bogged down. Their mechanics, Knight and Stoten, jumped down to free the wheel with the engines still running. Stoten was hit by a propeller which fractured his skull and he died on the journey to hospital. His skull also did damage to the propeller and co-pilot Tymms had to travel to Athens by sea to source a replacement. Unfortunately, this suffered water damage on the return journey and a new propeller had to be sent out from England by rail. This held them up until the 19th of February and looked like putting them out of the race. Undeterred, they pushed on to Cairo where the RAF helped prepare the aircraft for the African leg of its journey. Unfortunately, structural failure in the form of tail flutter meant that the large bomber had to make an emergency landing with no rudders and ineffective elevators. Brackley's flying skills saved the crew, but the undercarriage failed to cope with the crosswind landing and G-EAMC buried its nose into the desert sand at El Shereik in Sudan, bringing their attempt to a grinding halt.

In a desperate attempt to catch up with the other Vickers, van Ryneveld decided to fly directly from Taranto in Italy to Derna on the north Libyan coast. To give an idea of the risks involved and the courage required to cross the Mediterranean at one its widest points, this flight ended up taking only two hours less that Alcock and Brown's successful transatlantic crossing. They reached Cairo on the 9th February and, thanks to the short cut, they were only 640 miles behind Cockrell and Broome - potentially within a good day's flying. Setting off the next day, it seemed the gods were on their side with a strong tail wind meaning that they covered the first 530 miles towards Khartoum at a ground speed of more than 100 mph. Then disaster stuck through a leaking radiator. Realising that unless they landed the engine would soon seize itself solid, van Ryneveld made an emergency landing. Unfortunately, the large aircraft failed to stop before it encountered an outcrop of boulders. The ensuing impact destroyed the airframe, but miraculously the vital modified engines survived intact.

On hearing of the accident, Smuts immediately arranged for the RAF in Cairo to supply a replacement aircraft and all material that could be salvaged, including the powerplants, was railroaded back to Egypt to be fitted into what became the Silver Queen II. The RAF mechanics in Cairo worked miracles - and gave the South African team preference over the Telegraph's 0/400 which arrived while they were preparing the new Vimy - and van Ryneveld was on his way again by February 22.

Bypassing Tabora, van Ryneveld was unaware of the fate of his rivals until he reached Abercorn. In theory this meant that the final 2,500km should have been plain flying, but, as the other teams had found out, in Africa, nothing was simple.

By the second of March they had landed at Livingstone, fortunately drawing a large crowd of Africans to see their first flying machine. The landing field was waterlogged and it took the combined efforts of all those present to trample the ground down to form a surface long and hard enough to allow the Silver Queen II to depart three days later.

As the second Silver Queen neared Rhodesia, there was a flurry of telegrams back and forth from Mafeking to Pretoria. The Resident Commissioner recognised the contribution that Khama III had made in building the airfield at Palapye Road and wanted to ensure that not only was the airfield used, but that a visit was made to his capital, Serowe. The forward-looking chief had not only cleared the field the British wanted, but had built his own aerodrome and it was felt that it was politically important that the new airfield received at least a fly-past. Replies made it clear that despite Palapye being an official refueling stop on the Cape-Cairo route that van Ryneveld intended to fly directly from Bulawayo to Pretoria. The official British view was that it was 'urgent' and an 'important political necessity' that Khama received the visit that both his position and assistance deserved. Pretoria felt that van Ryneveld would most likely accede to a personal appeal by telegram from Khama himself.

The Vimy drew another large crowd when it arrived at Bulawayo just after lunch on Friday the fifth, becoming the first aeroplane to fly in Rhodesia. An even larger gathering was present on the racecourse the following day to see the aircraft depart. It was still not clear whether a visit to Khama and Bechuanaland was part of the plan as the Vimy clawed its way into the thin African air. The roar of the engines was replaced by a short-lived silence and then there was a crash. So near - whichever route they took, they would have received a massive welcome in South Africa that day - but the attempt looked to be over.

When the Silver Queen II came to rest on the banks of the Matsheumhlope River, it looked as if the first attempt to fly from London to Cape Town had come to an end. Yet, only ten days later, a DH.9 of the fledgling South African Air Force had been taken from a crate, assembled and flown to Bulawayo - via Palapye Road, becoming the first aircraft to land in Bechuanaland - in order to complete the epic journey.

When South African Prime Minister, Jan Smuts, heard of the crash of Van Ryneveld's second Vickers Vimy, he once again ordered a replacement aircraft. This time, instead of a borrowed RAF aircraft, the aeroplane would be a true South African machine, one of a batch delivered after the conclusion of the Great War from surplus UK stock - a donation that became known as the Imperial Gift. Similar deliveries were made to Australia, Canada, India and New Zealand, helping the Dominions start their own air forces.

The Union Defence Force of South Africa had received one hundred aeroplanes, consisting of forty-eight Airco DH.9 bombers, ten DH.4 bombers, twenty-two SE.5a fighters and thirty Avro 504 trainers. In addition, twenty steel hangars, thirty portable wood and canvas hangars, radio and photographic kit, aircraft spares, workshops, tools, trucks, tenders, trailers, fifty thousand gallons of engine oil and twenty thousand gallons of paint and dope (used to stiffen and waterproof canvas) were included, bringing the value of the gift to about two million pounds - a huge amount for post war Britain.

Jan Smuts had played a vital part in the creation of the independent Royal Air Force and it was only natural that he would advise the creation of South African Air Force on a similar basis and the Imperial Gift provided the means. That was not to say that South Africa had not had experience in aerial warfare. As well as the thousands who served in Europe and the Middle East with the Royal Flying Corps and Royal Naval Air Service (the arms merged in April 1918 to form the RAF), the Union Defence Force had created the South African Aviation Corps in 1915 in order to assist the ground forces in the campaign to overcome the Germans in South West Africa.

The battered and bruised crew of the Silver Queen received good wishes from around the Empire, but the telegram from Smuts contained the best news - at least for van Ryneveld and Brand. A two-seater was being prepared in Pretoria that would be flown up to Bulawayo and which would allow them to continue their trip to the Cape. This must have been bitter sweet news for their two mechanics, Sheratt and Burton, who had worked so hard to get their team this far but would now be left behind for the triumphant return to South Africa. While they waited for the new aeroplane to arrive, the team accepted various offers of entertainment including several lunches in honour and a tour of the Matopos.

This was such a success, and its coincidence with the ill-fated Jameson Raid, meant that the political pressure was such that the Protectorate was formed - eventually saving what became Botswana from the political upheaval the rest of the region faced. By the time the flight to the Cape was on its way, Khama was 83 and coming to the end of his reign, yet he remained an energetic promoter of technology and was keen to see an aeroplane over his capital. The strength, and importance, of his relationship with the British can be gauged by the effort they put in to make sure his wish came true.

With the news that a replacement aircraft would be flown to Bulawayo, telegram offices in Bechuanaland were once again reminded on March 10th that position reports of the aircraft and weather reports were to be given priority. The Protectorate had its own Meteorological muse in the form of Miss M Giles of Mahalapye, who took weather readings in that village from 1917 until 1943. It would be her reports that would be used for Palapye Road Aerodrome, despite her being based more than seventy kilometres away. Incidentally, Miss Giles would also become known for her work on solar rays.

While Mafeking was busy preparing Bechuanaland for the flight, the Union Defence Force was hurriedly unpacking an Airco DH.9. This was one of the first batch of the Imperial Gift aircraft to arrive by ship the previous September. On January 1, 1920, the Aircraft Depot at Roberts Heights on the outskirts of Pretoria was formed in order to initially to reconstruct the donated aeroplanes before serving as a servicing centre. It is unclear how far the work had got by the start of March, but is clear that when the DH.9 was chosen as the most suitable aircraft to complete van Ryneveld's journey (probably on Monday 9th March) there were none of this type as yet available.

A crate holding Airco DH.9 H5648 was selected by Major Court Treatt, the man who had been responsible for surveying and building the airfields for the final third of the Cairo-Cape route and work started on its construction immediately. In just under a week, this complicated piece of high technology had been put back together from its boxed-up kit form and on the 15 March it was test flown and declared airworthy. Court Treatt selected Lieutenant John Holthouse as his pilot and the following day they set off for Bulawayo.

Nearly three hours after their departure from Bulawayo the pair landed at Serowe to pay their respects to Khama and to thank him and the Bangwato for the construction of the airfields. They stayed at Khama's capital for an hour and a half before making the twenty-five minute flight to Palapye to refuel. Unfortunately, the details of the refreshments provided by the Palapye Hotel during their two-and-a-half-hour layover were not recorded but no doubt they were welcome before Brand and van Ryneveld took off again, this time for their home country.

On landing in Pretoria, the two South African airmen receive a tremendous reception - one that was repeated in Johannesburg the following day. Bloemfontein, van Rynevled's hometown, was the next stop, followed by Beaufort West. Finally, forty-five days after leaving Brooklands and with an extra 109 hours thirty minutes in their log books they touched down in Cape Town at four o'clock on the afternoon of March 20,1920. Among the people waiting to great them was Premier Jan Smuts himself.

Perhaps Bechuana's was a small contribution, two out of forty-four airfields that were available on the route, but it was significant that they were the only ones built by an African leader. One of these is now buried under the new Serowe hospital, but Palapye remains in use. Should it be a national monument, both to Khama III and the first aeronautical pioneers?