KARIBA NIGHT DUNKING - FlyAfrica website under Aviation Tales
KARIBA NIGHT DUNKING
Keith Coppen was one of the more irrepressible characters on Pupes Course 1 / 70, and in the mid 70's we were detached as SAP to 7 Squadron in Rhodesia, he being the luckier one to be based at the resort town of Kariba, which had a hectic social scene during those crazy years.
Come one weekend night, with a whole evening of serious socialising lined up, Keith and his Flight Engineer, Bill Riley, got called out in their Alouette for a casevac out of the remote Bumi Hills / Binga area. The RAR had driven over a landmine and two soldiers had sustained back injuries, inconsiderately spoiling what promised to be a fun evening.
Our gallant rescuers scrambled in great haste, I suspect more for the sake of getting back to the party in time. A direct line to the scene would have taken them over the dark waters of the lake, so they followed the shoreline as per SOP's.
After loading up their patients, they took off for the return flight and this is when Keith could not resist cutting the southeast corner of the lake, just to save a few precious minutes.
Some technical background is now necessary the freewheel units on the driveshafts of the Alo's had recently been modded, and they were now no longer lubricated from the main gearbox but were sealed off with their own oil supply. Apparently, the topping up on their freewheel had not been done and this led to the unit seizing right in the middle of their shortcut over the black and foreboding darkness below, another Murphy moment for sure.
There was an almighty bang as this substantial piece of metal sheared off and got flung outwards sideways, and luckily not upwards into the rotors. This calamity immediately got Keith's mind off the anticipated festivities, as he now had to react mighty fast to conflicting RPMs, and get down to business handling this serious emergency.
Initially, there was an over-rev as the engine unloaded, no longer having all that gearbox and rotors to drive, before the governor brought some sanity back to the engine RPM. Next was the urgent need to autorotate - and turning for the shore was not a bad idea - as rotor RPM was bleeding off dangerously fast. So far, so good, due to the good old SAAF training actually theoretical, as this exercise cannot be practised.
Some more background the winter water below was cold and infested with crocs, and the surrounding area was riddled with wildlife and terrorists. And with only a hint of moonlight to help, this was not exactly the optimum condition for such an emergency.
Then Keith thought lady luck had arrived, when he saw, with what little moonlight he had, that he was going to reach what he thought was the beach?.which turned out to be a carpet of water hyacinth ( Kariba Weed), pushed by the wind and packed into a small bay.
Nevertheless, he did a great flare and touch down only to be let down with a sinking feeling. In a flash, everybody including the two stretcher cases - scrambled out and did their best to make their way ashore as fast as possible. Moses himself would have been impressed. The fact of the matter is that both patients beat the aircrew to dry land, with Keith getting badly entangled in the weed.
They were now well and truly on their own, the real Survivor Africa scenario, as Keith had not had time to broadcast a Mayday call. Into instinctive survival mode now, they all sensibly climbed a tree and spent a miserable night, nearly freezing to death.
The AF of course came searching at first light, and Keith and company were most happy to attract their attention and get themselves rescued. He was able to point out the Jesus nut, the only part of the Alo sticking out of the water, and it was concluded that the chopper was most probably only slightly damaged and worth salvaging.
Because of sanctions and the shortage of choppers, the Rhodaf decided to mount an ingenious operation to recover this Alo. A path was hacked, through the bush and rough terrain, all the way to the scene. A most commendable task in trying circumstances. Then SAS divers were sent in, to sink drums all around the chopper. They then strapped these drums to the downed and drowned Alo, and pumped in compressed air. Voila. The Alo slowly rose and surfaced, and the resurrected flingwing was pulled to the shoreline and hoisted by crane onto the back of a recovery truck.
The only problem was that the gooks had been watching all this hard work, and planted a landmine on the track. As a result, the Alo went from a Cat 1 to Cat 5 damage classification, when it got written off by the ensuing blast. A sad ending to one of the classical workhorses of the bushwar. I seem to remember that Keith did receive some commendation for this remarkable bit of flying, it must have helped balance all that other mischief he was so good at dishing up.
Meanwhile, we were all back in town celebrating this close call we did not need much reason in those days to have a party. Typical Keith, he had looked at the AF orders listing all the venues that were out of bounds, and flight planned our social itinerary accordingly. Luckily, our SAP Landrover was not reported outside the Queens Hotel and the other dives that we looped through that long night.
After leaving the SAAF, Keith sadly lost his life when he crashed a Robinson R-22 with Johno Robinson while darting a rhino in the Lowveldt. John Eksteen and I drove to his funeral in Thabazimbi and ended up at the wake at the Letsitele Farmers Club. True to tradition, we got horribly plastered at the bar and apparently managed pretty good renditions of the chopper songs from the border collection.
We at least were wise enough to plan a night stop, instead of letting Eksteen try driving, and asked Vicky Brooker to call Stella, to inform Hazel of our plan. But I neglected to remind her that I lived in Pretoria, and she unsuccessfully tried my phone number on the Johannesburg code? which meant we ended up with very worried wives. Sometime very late, we somehow lost Keith's cousin Clifford on the road back into town, and were deprived of the loopdop at his house not a bad situation actually, considering the kingsize hangover we had the next day.
We only came out of our coma's at about 1000 hours the next morning, to find ourselves in the Tzaneen Hotel and unable to decipher our own hieroglyphics in the check-in registry. Of course, we were both in the dog box when we finally got home, and I am sure that would have brought a smile to that naughty face of Keith's.
Tammi, Keith's super bubbly daughter the apple not falling far from the tree I guess - continued family tradition and also took up flying, and today flies out of Maun into the Okavango swamps.
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