The Man Called Brown Condor (19 page)

Once again the cool air blowing in the windows helped make the crowded sedan a little more comfortable. It also helped to steady John's stomach, which he was sure had been on fire shortly after the meal ended. Wherever they were going, John was determined to conduct himself in a manner befitting what he had been assured was his new rank, that of captain.

That is, if I still have a chance of any rank at all after the run-in with Julian.

When they re-entered the city, John was reminded of just how great a task Haile Selassie had in trying to modernize his nation. The sanitary problems alone were enough to stagger any civil engineer. In the suburbs of mud brick structures surrounding the city center, there was no sewerage or waste disposal system. Outdoor privies were the best solution they had for sewerage. Garbage and trash were simply tossed into the streets to be rummaged through by the poor and occasionally picked up by trash wagons.

That night John witnessed a waste disposal system provided by nature. As the sedan rounded a corner, its lights illuminated the surprised faces of a pack of spotted hyenas feeding on the evening's garbage. Before he could speak, the beasts were lost in the darkness behind them. Since none of his companions paid the least attention, John wondered if he hadn't had a little too much tej.

The Citroen pulled up in front of a fairly modern structure with a large archway spanning two heavy doors, one of which was open. The four men got out and walked inside. The place was crowded. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the soft light provided by a few electric fixtures and oil lamps. Around small tables, groups of Ethiopian men were eating, smoking, drinking, and talking jovially. There were a few Ethiopian women scattered among the patrons.

John noticed several white faces in the room, ferenjis, members of the Western press, diplomatic staffers, and perhaps a few military advisors and medical team volunteers he had heard about. He and his new friends seated themselves on cushions around a small low table. Cups of wine soon arrived. John was determined to sip very slowly and only a little.

A group of musicians struck up a wild rhythmic tune just as a voice from behind him called his name. Surprised, John turned to see Jim Mills, the Associated Press correspondent whom he had met at the hotel bar, sitting at the next table.

“You're not doing badly for a new boy on the block.”

Before John could reply, a burst of applause arose from the crowd. To the delight of the customers, several dark-skinned girls entered the cleared area in the center of the club and began to dance to the exotic music.

John, glad for the company of a fellow American, turned to Mills, “This beats hyenas for entertainment.”

Mills laughed. “Speaking of entertainment, would you like a little company now and then during your stay?” Before John could answer, Mills added, “Of course, you might have to marry one.”

“In that case, no thank you.”

“Oh, it's not all bad. Which type of marriage do you want?”

“Which type? Just how many kinds of marriage they got here?” Mills explained, “Under Ethiopian custom there are three.”

“Three?”

“Just listen and learn, my friend. The first, foremost, and least common is the church marriage or
Qurban
. Now that one you have to be careful of. It is considered sacred and indissoluble. Young people are considered too unstable for this type of marriage. The second type called
semanya
is more common. It is a civil contract marriage blessed by a priest. It can be dissolved by mutual consent or court decision.”

“And the third type?” questioned John with a little more interest.

“The third type,” replied Mills, “is called
damoz
or wage marriage. Traditionally, this kind of marriage is provided to a man traveling far from home. You certainly qualify there. Its purpose is to provide such a man with a temporary wife for which he pays a fee. At the end of the marriage, no further obligations are owed unless a child has been born.”

“That's the smartest approach to marriage I've ever heard. Mussolini says he is coming here to civilize the savages of Abyssinia. He might do better to send the Pope over here to study civilized marriage. You ought to put that in your paper.”

Mills replied, “Oh, but that won't sell as many newspapers as the idea of the seat of the Christian world making war on the oldest Christian nation in Africa. Hell, Italy declared a Fascist Sunday to convince all those young conscripted Italian soldiers and their families that God is on Mussolini's side. That bastard Mussolini means to have a war with these Ethiopians.” Jim Mills looked around the room. “These bright, funny, proud, and hospitable friends of mine just can't move this ancient nation into the twentieth century in time to meet the threat of modern warfare. Anyway,” Jim raised his cup, “here's a toast to you, my Brown Condor, and to me and all the other poor bastards who trade home for the wild winds of fortune.”

Jim smiled and added, “Happy flying.”

T
HE THREE
W
RIGHT
W
HIRLWIND
J-5
ENGINES OF THE 1930
F
OKKER F-VII
b/3 tri-motor droned steadily. In spite of experienced hands adjusting the throttles, the trio of propellers moved slightly in and out of synchronization, playing their own harmonic tune. John was flying left seat with Paul Corriger in the right seat acting as check-pilot. The high-wing tri-motor was the largest aircraft in Ethiopia's stable. All seats in the cabin area behind the cockpit had been removed to make room for a cargo of six hundred gallons of aviation fuel carried in one hundred and twenty five-gallon tins stacked on pallets carefully secured with cargo nets and straps. The total weight of the fuel, tins, and pallets was barely within the maximum allowable cargo limit. Both Corriger and Robinson were aware of the dangerous cargo. They took turns at frequent intervals going back to check for leaks and to make sure the tins were all secured.

With the fuel in the wing tanks and six hundred gallons in the cargo bay, John had made the most careful takeoff of his flying career. At sea level and gross weight, the Junker would climb at a little over six hundred and fifty feet per minute. Taking off from the nearly eight-thousand- foot elevation of Addis Ababa, it was a struggle to reach two hundred feet per minute climb. He cringed at every bump and thump the landing gear took on the long takeoff run, praying the loose rocks wouldn't blow a tire. It took nearly thirty minutes of circling to climb forty-three hundred feet above Addis Ababa to reach their cruising altitude of twelve thousand feet. The Fokker FVII b/3 had a service ceiling of only fourteen thousand feet at gross weight, but with no oxygen for the pilots, twelve thousand was as high as they cared to fly. That would get them through the mountain passes.

The cargo of fuel would be off-loaded and stored at the ancient city of Adowa located some four hundred and fifty miles north of Addis Ababa near the Italian Eritrea border. It was at Adowa thirty-nine years before that the Ethiopians had soundly defeated an invading Italian army. News accounts of the day accused the Ethiopians of committing barbarous atrocities and told of the death of ten thousand Italian soldiers and the loss of seventy-two cannon. Il Duce had been thirteen when that disastrous event had occurred. Now, as his Italian army was massing on the Italian Eritrean border in preparation for a new invasion, Mussolini promised the Italian people he would avenge that defeat.

The figures concerning the cannon had stuck in John's mind. Shortly after hearing the story of the Italian defeat, he learned that almost half of the present artillery strength of Ethiopia was comprised of those same antiquated seventy-two cannon captured in 1896. After looking over the Ethiopian inventory of aircraft, he was convinced they captured half their aircraft in the same battle. He had seen the list of aircraft presently on flying status. Listed were eight French Potez 25s powered by 450-horsepower, Lorraine-Dietrich engines—planes that were only slightly improved over the aircraft of the Great War. There was one tri-motor Fokker FVII b/3 (the one they were now flying), one old Farman F-192 single-engine transport, and two large Junkers W 33c single-engine transports. Not one of them was armed. About eight other planes were listed as “currently unserviceable.”

The flight Robinson and Corriger were making would serve three purposes: transporting a stockpile of fuel to Adowa, giving Robinson a checkout in the Fokker FVII b/3, and also familiarizing Robinson with some of the country over which he would be flying.

John looked down at the jagged terrain below. Their route of flight followed a road leading from Addis Ababa past Dessie, then a turn slightly to the left to cross the beginning trickle of the Takkase River and on toward the village of Skota. From there they picked up another trail that would lead them to the town of Adowa situated on the cusp of the rugged, hot, desert lowlands fifty miles from the Italian Eritrea border.

There were few maps of Ethiopia, none accurate enough for precise navigation, and no radio beacons or modern air navigational aids. A compass, a watch, a good memory for landmarks and terrain features, and a pilot's own notes were the most dependable means of navigation available to a pilot in Ethiopia in 1935.

During John's orientation, Corriger pointed out that it was extremely important to learn every valley, canyon, riff, riverbed, road, village, and other distinguishable terrain features. He reminded Robinson that unless he did, he could easily become lost. “Without such knowledge,” he said, “a pilot might fly up an unfamiliar canyon only to find that it narrowed too much to allow a turnaround and that the canyon walls rose faster than the plane could climb. If such a canyon terminates in a dead end, so will the plane and pilot. If you go down in the wilds of this country, even if you survive, it's likely you won't be found, at least before you die of thirst.”

Corriger had John's attention. He recalled what he had read about the early mail pilots in the States. They drew their own maps, sketching important features along their route. Some of the notes might read, “Large barn with twin oaks at south end and windmill at east side by pond,” or “river fork with two sets of rapids points north. Course 320 degrees from fork.” If a pilot was flying above broken cloud or fog, his life might depend on his ability to recognize in one brief glance some feature on the ground that would tell him his present position.

As important recognizable features appeared below, Corriger shouted over the engine noise to point them out. John jotted down the information in his notebook along with compass courses and altitude, often adding crude drawings.

The central plains were at elevations between four thousand and ten thousand feet. The highlands had mountain peaks that towered above fourteen thousand feet. On this day, with the monsoon blowing moist air up from the sea, clouds and rain had kept them company. Flying at twelve thousand feet, sometimes above cloud cover, John could see mountaintops projecting out of the white fluff. He realized that the clouds of Ethiopia could have rocks in them.

Robinson appreciated the fact that had Paul Corriger not known every trail, ridge, stream, and rock outcropping along the way and not carried a notebook listing the compass course from one prominent terrain feature to the next, they could have easily made their mark in life at about the twelve-thousand-foot level on the side of some ridge, canyon wall, or mountainside. John entered every feature Paul pointed out to him in his own notebook. Ethiopia is about the size of Texas and Oklahoma combined. He had a great deal to learn.

John noticed the terrain had begun to drop toward the lowland desert. The rain and clouds faded behind them. Their destination was not far ahead.

Adowa, like most of Ethiopia's towns and villages, had no airport. Corriger told him that a flat stretch of ground near a village would have to do for an airfield. John knew that the high-wing Fokker FVII b/3 tri-motor had a stout, fabric-covered steel tubing fuselage and plywood-skinned wooden wing. It was as strong as a bridge. Its thick-chord wing was capable of lifting almost any load that could be put in the plane. It incorporated a tough landing gear with large wheels and tires, which, by design, allowed the plane to operate from rough, unimproved fields. )

As instructed, John made a low pass over the village to alert the work detail of their arrival. Then he circled a landing area that had been cleared by the villagers and made a low pass for a close look at the landing zone. It was a flat, rocky stretch of ground.

“That's it? Looks rough to me.”

Corriger answered, “Yes and yes.”

Circling once more, John lined up for the final approach to landing. He was sweating and not just from the heat. This was a test and he knew it. John spread his right hand over the three throttles on the center console. He eased them back a little and re-trimmed the aircraft. A few feet off the ground, John eased the three throttles back further, keeping a little power on to gentle the heavily loaded plane onto the ground.

The clattering sides of the Fokker FVII b/3 and the banging struts of the landing gear announced contact with Mother Earth. John pulled the throttles to idle. With use of the rudder and judicious application of brakes, he held a straight path. The plane waddled over the rough field, raising a cloud of dust before coming to a stop. After shutting down all three engines, the only thing Robinson could hear was a ringing in his ears. It was (and is) a common ailment of pilots who fly piston engine aircraft.

John sat slumped in his seat for a moment. The fatigue of the flight was settling on him. It always takes a little while for a pilot to transition from sky to ground. John reached down to unfasten his seat belt and noticed that the Frenchman was already out of his seat.

“Not bad,” Corriger said. “Not as good as
Corriger
, of course, but not bad. Now,” he continued, “we'll be here for the night. By the time the work crew gets out here, unloads the plane, and refuels it, there won't be enough daylight left to make the return flight to Addis Ababa. Clouds, rain, and the mountains are a challenge to any flight, but even for Corriger, night flying over this terrain is suicidal. There are few lights visible below and no way to recognize landmarks.”