Remember Boss PB
Eddy Norris
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REMEMBER BOSS PB THE FUNERAL 12TH APRIL 2013
COLNEY WOODLANDS BURIALS REMEMBERING BOSS P-B 12TH APRIL 2013 ORDER OF SERVICE Brother Bill Mann will commence the Service Tony Petter-Bowyer - Memories commemorating Peter and his life as brothers Keith Corrans – Eulogy of Service Life and latter Career of Peter Clive Bloor – Eulogy on behalf of all the Ranks that served with Peter This will be followed by a recorded tribute to Peter by his daughter Debbie on behalf of Beryl, Paul and herself. Whilst this recording is played there will be an album of slides of his life, capturing moments with family and friends and most importantly showing Peter and his memorable mannerisms. STANDARDS REPRESENTED AT PETER’S SERVICE OF THANKSGIVING ARE: The Rhodesian Air Force Standard - Standard Bearer: Rick Singleton The Rhodesian Arm Association Standard – Standard Bearer: Mike Shute The Rhodesian African Rifles Association Standard – Standard Bearer: "Hobo" Hobson The Rhodesian Light Infantry Standard – Standard Bearer: Martyn Hudson The Service of Thanksgiving and Celebration of Peter’s life will end with the song: ‘The Wind Beneath by Wings’ by Bette Midler Family and friends are invited to attend the Interment of Peter (For those unable or not wishing to attend the Interment Service, you are invited to go to the ‘Gathering Hall’ and will be joined by family and friends on completion of Peter’s interment) To make a donation please send a cheque payable to: ‘CHAPMANS FUNERAL SERVICES DONATION ACCOUNT’. The Swaffham Funeral Home Lynn Road Swaffham PE37 7AY *** Please annotate monies are for: ‘P-B’S WREATH FUND’ *** (P-B’s Wreath Fund – monies will be collected and will be sent on to the ‘FLAME LILY FOUNDATION’ in South Africa). THE FLAME LILY FOUNDATION (FLF) The FLF endeavours to promote, further and secure the interests of their members of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe and their descendants living in South Africa. In pursuit of this the FLF facilitate residential accommodation for persons over the age of 60 who have settled in South Africa. When called upon the FLF provide limited welfare assistance to deserving former residents of Rhodesia/Zimbabwe, in particular to the aged and the disabled. The FLF endeavour to preserve the heritage of Rhodesia and to promote interest in the country’s history and culture.
The Colney Woodland Burial just outside the picturesque city of Norwich is unspoilt and peaceful woodland. The Gathering Hall and the Woodland Hall (Chapel) are constructed from logs, most likely felled trees, sympathetically blending with the surrounding woodland.
The service was opened by Brother Bill Mann who spoke of his interesting, yet short lived friendship with Peter P-B. Bill read extracts from the Bible and likened each extract to life as it is today, and how and why things are as they are. Bill described how he met P-B and of P-B’s search for religious belief and inner peace. Bill believes P-B found this through the teachings and Bible studies they undertook together. The sermon was delivered in a friendly way without the need to add emphasis to words. It was a peaceful sermon, in tune with the surroundings, but without a hint of sadness or regret. That is not why we were all there. We were there to celebrate P-B’s life, and Bill undertook his part of the funeral service with care, honesty and dedication to the belief he has in God.
TONY PETTER-BOWYER EULOGY - A TRIBUTE TO MY BROTHER PETER
My thanks to Debbie and all those involved. Thanks also for waiting for me to get here from South Africa. This day 103 years ago our mother was born in Brighton. The strange thing is, Peter and I have gone through our lives not really knowing who our Grand Parents were, despite all our research! That said, we had a privileged childhood. When we moved to Salisbury my parents bought a house in the suburb of Hillside that had a swimming pool. Poolside we had a changing room and this became our HQ where we plotted our activities and undertook some early learning courses playing ‘doctor-doctor‘ with our neighbour’s daughter Jenny. We embarked on a secret smoking career, because it was the ‘mature thing’ to do. Our secret smoking place was on the roof from where we could not be surprised, or so we thought. We did get caught by Tickey, one of our parents’ employees. He told my parents what he had discovered on the rooftop and out came the Police cane. Mum administered a serious hiding to both of us and that ended the smoking career that had lasted one week. Shortly after this event Peter was given a tea set. He kept this in his bedroom. One day he invited me into his bedroom for lemonade. Being invited into sanctity of your big brothers bedroom was a rare privilege, and for lemonade! Anyway, he poured ‘lemonade’ into a cup for me and I eagerly tipped the contents of the cup into my mouth. Instantly I realised I had been set-up. Peter was in stitches rolling about on the floor, tears of laughter rolling from his eyes. He had filled the tea pot with his pee. Then we discovered a new way to spend our school time – bunking off at Coropark race track. There wasn’t much there really, but the excitement of doing something you’re not supposed to was like a magnet and the smell of two-stroke oil on sand was irresistible. Our magnet failed us when Uncle Bill caught s there when we should have been at school. We were never punished for this indiscretion so I can only assume Uncle Bill never told our parents. And you know, to this day I still love the smell of two-stroke oil on sand. Our Hillside plot stretched down to the Makabuzi River. This was really a rather filthy stream about 10 feet across that flowed through Salisbury. But add together a stream and adventurous boys and you end up with tin boats. We made several boats and our most successful one stayed afloat for about 10 minutes. Although we had been made aware of the dangers of Bilharzia, luckily neither of us contracted it. Come to that, neither of us caught malaria either. Putting our failed career as boat builders behind us we embarked on criminal career, which involved such daring robberies as swiping a few tin soldiers from OK Bazaars. It was that excitement again; of doing something and not getting caught. Then we learned a new game, Mahobohobo fights. This involved throwing the hard fruit at each other. If you were unlucky enough to get hit by one of these hard and heavy fruits it hurt like hell. But it was fun, providing you managed to dodge all the Mahobohobo chucked your way. Then we decided to become long range cyclists. In one day we would cycle to Marandella and back to Salisbury. I recall it was about 38 miles each way. There again, we cycled 5 miles a day to school and then 5 miles home again, so we were used to cycling and very fit and only 8 years old! There was the time a Harvard crashed on our plot. For reasons we never understood, the pilot had to stay with the wreck until it could be recovered. We spent enjoyable times eating sardine sandwiches with the pilot and enjoying the smell of the Avgas leaked from the ruptured fuel tanks. Our father was in Bulawayo. Mum brought us up one aided by Aunt Midge. She had a sports car and drove it like she was on a race track! She was a very attractive woman with flowing red hair. Dad lost an arm in an accident while driving to Bulawayo. Around this time we heard the devastating news that our parents were divorcing. We moved from Salisbury to the eastern regions and spent time at the Leopard Rock Hotel in Melsetter. Peter and I were sent to Eagle School. At school there was the obvious bully who preyed on new boys to justify his bully-boy status. One day Peter challenged him, so after school it was down to the Mimosa trees, our school battleground. After a well fought dust-up the winner was undecided, but the effect was that the bully had learned a valuable lesson and his unsociable activities stopped and we all felt safer. Peter took up boxing after that fight and did fairly well in the school boy boxing league. We graduated from Eagle School and went to Umtali Boys High School (UBHS). After UHBS, Peter won an apprenticeship to be a carpenter. He had qualified as a carpenter when his attention was drawn to the air force. There was a fair amount of opposition from family and friends when he announced his decision to enlist. Around this time Peter bought a 500cc motorbike. He rode it well, but perhaps a little over confidence crept in and he had an accident that resulted in him breaking his leg. While in hospital he was visited by Beryl Roe. Her visit was the start of a loving relationship that led to them eloping to Bulawayo to get married. Their love and devotion to each other never faltered. How privileged am I to have had such a brother and he will be sadly missed. My wife, Bee, will now read a tribute emailed from my younger sister, Mary, still Zimbabwe. A TRIBUTE TO MY BROTHER, PETER JOHN HORNBY PETTER-BOWYER When I first got news that my eldest brother Pete was so ill with the serious infections that ravaged his body, I was always prayerfully hopeful that he would pull through. He had always appeared to possess an inner strength which had helped him through the Zimbabwean bush war and many illnesses through the years. He had always been a survivor and it seemed impossible that he would lose this final battle. Of course, it was not for him to decide when to go, it was the Lord’s decision but nonetheless when news came through that he had finally succumbed to the battle against cancer it still came as a huge shock to me. It seems inconceivable that my precious eldest brother is no longer with us.
Peter was almost 17 years older than me and so my early memories of growing up with him in the Eastern Districts of Zimbabwe are not all that clear but I know that growing up in that wild area on the farm gave Peter and my other brothers a deep and lasting love of our African bush. Peter died exactly one month short of the exact age that our Dad was when he died. In a lot of ways, he was very similar to my Dad, who was gentle, very kind, full of fun with an incredible sense of humour (which I think we have all inherited) and a most wonderful Father. After our Dad died I found it comforting to know that in a way he lived on in Peter who was a post wonderful brother, brother in law, uncle and friend. One memory of those early days is very clear – his great love for his two little sisters, Brigid and myself. And can you imagine how proud we were of our famous Air Force brother. It was so exciting for us 2 little girls to have a brother in the Rhodesian Air Force, particularly when he did amazing things like carrying out low-level attacks over Digglefold, our boarding school at Marandellas, bombing us with small parachutes from his jet. The whole school would rush to see what the jet had dropped and we would casually saunter out knowing that the little boxes attached to the parachutes would have our names on them, and that they would be filled with chocolates, biltong, and all sorts of goodies. For days we would feel like heroes. How special he was, he always thought of us and supported us through thick and thin. He was a marvellous story teller and at times a party animal, but only later did we realise the constant strain he lived with during the Rhodesian war days, when he played a prominent and important role for his Country which has been well documented. It broke his heart when he finally had to leave the Rhodesian Air Force and his beloved Rhodesia (as it then was) but this sad time never affected his warm and generous nature and above all his absolute loyalty and constant concern for family, friends and comrades-in-arms. He never forgot the special people of those times and I know they never forgot him. In recent years we have come to know Richard Ngwenya who headed ZIPRA Northern Frontier Command and Assembly Point Romeo during the war. He too remembered Peter well and spoke of him with great respect. On a recent visit to Lusaka we were able to set up a Skype conversation between myself, Richard and Peter and they spoke animatedly about those times which they both remembered so well. They laughed and joked about the old dangers, hardships and battles they had shared on opposite sides and what struck me is how two military men from opposing sides could converse so candidly, with friendship and respect, without bitterness or rancour. They were not concerned with politics, they were just old warriors who had become friends. I truly feel that this conversation put to rest the conflict of mind that both men have battled with since the war ant it showed me gain Peter’s amazing ability to forgive, forget and to get on with any person of any race, creed or culture. I believe his heart never left Zimbabwe and it a lot of ways I feel it is a shame that Pete could not have lived out his remaining years in the place where he was born, went to school, grew up and served – in Africa. I was very fortunate to speak to him on the telephone only a few hours before the massive stroke which was to take his life. I am thankful to the Lord for giving me a chance to say a final goodbye and will cherish the last words he said to me, "take car my girlie". How typical of him; even on his deathbed he was concerned only for me and not for himself. I am thankful that I have such wonderful memories of a beloved brother whose passing has left a very sad void in our lives. To me his spirit will live on forever in the little remembrance garden I have planted in Zimbabwe amongst some beautiful Msasa trees which he loved. Farewell Peter my precious brother. Love Mary KEITH CORRANS’ EULOGY Peter has crammed a lot into the 55 years that I have known him. He was already qualified as a carpenter when he signed-on and joined 15 other aspiring Cadets on No. 10 Short Service Unit (SSU) in January 1957. Sadly, six fell by the way-side; the others went on to receive their "wings" in August 1958 and completed weaponry training in December. He was a great raconteur who kept us in stitches with his many anecdotes on life as an apprentice and the many naughty things he got up to. Sometimes we were never quite sure if these were true or false. He was also a bit unconventional; he took us totally by surprise when, after the "wings" parade he told us that he and Beryl had eloped to Bulawayo to get married. This was against air force regulations. Anyway, he confessed to the Station Commander and was summoned to the office of the Air Force Commander who fortunately accepted it as de facto. Peter subsequently signed up a further 10 years’ service and was one of several members of 10 SSU who were posted to No1 (Vampire) Squadron in the dizzy rank of Pilot Officer. This proved to be a very interesting and rewarding first tour which saw the squadron engaged in long range reconnaissance and flag-wave sorties out of Blantyre/Chileka during the 1959 Nyasaland Emergency, also a 6 week deployment to Aden/Khormaksa to fly alongside the RAF Venom Squadron on armed counter insurgency operations. Routing was via Blantyre, Niarobi, Mogadishu or Harameda. In August 1960 P-B was selected for Flying Instructor training and went on to train many a young pilot on the piston Provost who later saw operational service with him in the terrorist war. Peter was always a deep thinker who took an active interest in all things aviation, especially the inadequacy of our in-use WW2 weaponry. The advent of UDI and the imposition of sanctions would later open up a new field for him. Fast forward two years and P-B was posted to the newly formed N0 7 (Allouette 3) helicopter squadron. This was to involve him more in day-to-day ground operations to our fellow services as terrorist incursions and atrocities escalated. He soon became a well known and well respected helicopter operator whose direct involvement in almost daily contacts with the enemy are too numerous to detail today. He was also, at that time, involved in the development of the side firing machine guns and pressure refuelling from fuel drums using the aircraft turbine as the pressure source. Both these innovations proved to be highly successful and undoubtedly impacted positively on the operational efficiency. For any pilot this must have been an incredible time, involved as he was in trials with tracker dogs, Casevacs, Conversion training of new pilots and liaison with Portuguese Forces on our Eastern Border. In April 1971 P-B and I attended the 8 month South African Air Force Advanced Staff Course in Pretoria. During that time we had one weekend off to return home to Salisbury. The air force provided a Canberra, for us and our Air Attache, but we had to wait 3 hours on the apron at Waterkloof for urgent Diplomatic Documents to arrive. Eventually they arrived: his two cats in cages. Needless to say these two animals did not take kindly to the trip back at Flight Level 120! Peter was lucky to go back directly to flying, this time as OC No 4 Squadron, equipped with the slow and under-powered Italian high winged AL60B (Trojan) and the old work-horse, the piston Provost. The Trojan served its purpose well in the light transport and recce roles. It was this aircraft that Peter really made his mark: he had been brought up as a youngster in the company of his parents’ employees and was well versed in their customs, way of life and their language. He saw visual recce from the air to be the way forward in identifying occupied and unoccupied terrorist camps hidden in the Tribal Trust Lands, usually in proximity to normal tribal kraals who were forced to feed them. He proved and perfected his skills and trained selected members of his Squadron and some Police Air Wing crews with increasing success. Not only were these recce flights conducted within hostile areas of Rhodesia but also across the Zambezi and into Mozambique where the threat from the ground by missiles and heavy weapons was an ever present risk. His involvement in the planning and prosecution of attacks against the enemy brought him into regular contact with the Officers and men of the RLI, RAR SAS, Selous Scouts, Special Branch, BSAP and Internal Affairs, some of whose Colours are paraded in his honour here today. His enthusiasm, commitment, dedication and general charisma marked him out for the award of the Military Forces Commendation (Ops). I think that Peter’s biggest break came when he was promoted to Wing Commander and appointed to the post of Staff Officer Planning with specific responsibility for weapons development: he was in his element, and together with local manufacturing engineers Cochran Brothers, he was able to progress his earlier visions of developing the types of weapon really needed to take forward our battle in the very varied terrain in which we operated. Time and space limits what I can highlight today n this Chapel of Peace other than to say that among other thins, the development of the Alpha and Golf bombs were outstanding triumphs. He was awarded the Defence Cross for Distinguished Service and, later, appointed as a Member of the Legion of Merit. Sadly all good things have to come to an end: following the Cease Fire Agreement in 1979 Peter was promoted to Group Captain and posted to the staff of Combined Operations. Here his common sense and knowledge of the local African language stood him in good stead. He and Beryl moved to South Africa where I am told he worked for Sell/BP for about 18 months before moving on to the Durban area where he joined up with one of his ex-students in a coffin making enterprise aimed at the lower end/indigenous market. Sadly internal pressures within his partner’s family started to sour their relationship and he and Beryl moved on again; this time to Stilfontein, west or south-west of Johannesburg. Here he set up his own business utilising his carpentry skills to very good effect. Business boomed for several years before the declining economy impacted adversely on his business and the undertakers he supplied. He was left facing more bad debt. The indigenous peoples could no longer afford professionally made coffins and were reverting to their old tribal custom of wrapping their deceased in animal skins or blankets. Peter was forced to cut his losses and he and Beryl came over to England to join daughter Debbie in April 2002. As can be expected, Peter was quick to roll up his sleeves and get stuck into settling into his new environment. Not only did he establish the Air Force Association (UK) along similar lines to the one he masterminded in Natal, but was soon involved with old Rhodesian colleagues in indexing and re-housing what is known as the "Rhodesian Archives." He also joined the design and implementation team for the newly struck Rhodesian Independence Commemorative Medal. He has achieved a lot in his lifetime. I know that I have left large gaps in this snapshot of his military career but the complete picture is covered in detain in his 590 page book "Winds of Destruction" which he "penned" in his idled moments. Peter, whilst you will shortly move down to rest in the Woodlands, you will always be remembered by us all as a great Rhodesian. Go Well Shamwari. CLIVE BLOOR’S EULOGY (On behalf of all who knew and flew with P-B) When you met PB for the first time you acknowledged his rank, but you felt strangely at ease with him. He had that magical quality about him that made you feel comfortable in his presence; so much so that one would have been forgiven for wanting to call him simply PB and forget about the rank. He spoke to you as an equal, and radiated a warmth and understanding that one usually only gets from a father figure, and I guess that sums it up, PB was everyone’s dad on the squadron. It seems like only yesterday when we would sit on canvas fold up chairs at a FAF with our feet resting on a sandbag wall and talk about things and how we would put the world to rights. At times PB would talk about aircraft and of his ideas. He was interested in your ideas and what you had to say. PB would think outside the box and one drew inspiration from his ideas and wanted to get involved. He never asked anyone to follow him: PB was a natural leader that you instinctively trusted and wanted to follow. He interacted with his squadron members as an equal, and yet respect and admiration for him never wavered.
Although PB spent time on other squadrons, it is the members from 4 and 7 squadron that will remember him best. Without using any effort, just using his natural charm he broke down the barriers that separated the ranks. And yet respect was never sacrificed. PB respected you for what and who you were. He acknowledged that in life one will always meet greater and lesser persons. It was a fine quality. Sir Ernest Shackleton of Antarctic fame based his success on the philosophy that a leader should: Mix with juniors and respect menial chores to minimise status differences; Look optimistic at all times, whether you feel it or not, to provide strong visible leadership; Care for your team with unflagging devotion, focus on your people. PB was in tune with this philosophy. It was the bedrock of his leadership. Those who flew with PB will always remember his calm, professional airmanship. He got ratty at times, but didn’t we all? There were times when an irate officer junior to PB would complain to him about the less than colourful job of recce. Instead of retaliating as he was entitled to, PB calmed the situation explaining why things were the way they were. PB often encountered a frustrated technician. There were times when all you wanted to do was take a hammer and smash the aircraft to bits, but PB’s calm voice could pacify even the most stressed out technician. He understood the hardships facing the technician trying to keep obsolete aircraft in tip-top condition with minimal spares, and at times no spares at all. He understood the technicians took ‘make-do-and-mend’ to an all new level and he appreciated the efforts. Sometimes it paid off and sometimes it didn’t. Just like PB’s inventions, sometimes they worked exactly as planned and sometimes they didn’t. The bane of aircrew was a call of nature 20 minutes into a 3 hour recce. So PB invented a portable urinal for ‘on-board’ use. There were two procedures for using this invention; filling it and emptying it. Filling it worked as expected, but the emptying went horribly wrong. Anyone who has read PB’s book, Winds of Destruction, will know what happened when he tried to empty his invention during flight. PB harboured no shame to tell you of his failures and openly laughed at himself. But then he would explain his successes in his calm ‘matter-of-fact’ way. He never bragged, even though it would have been his right to boast his successes. Such was the humbleness of the man. There will be times of solitude when you page through your memories searching for PB. If you go stalking along darkened lonely corridors you won’t find him. He is not there. Look to the light and see the colourful flowers, see the sun shining and hear happiness around you. That is where you will find PB. That is where he belongs. His passing has brought us together to celebrate his life and recall the times we spent together. Let’s remember the happy times and the sterling contribution he made to our pocket sized air force. The Rhodesian Air Force had many gems, but PB was a diamond. When you have a diamond it is something you will always treasure, and how the diamond came into your life will always be remembered. When someone you love becomes a memory, the memory, like the diamond becomes a treasure. Keep it safe and it will stay with you forever. Go well PB. HIGH FLIGHT, READ BY THE REVEREND CLIVE LARRETT.
HIGH FLIGHT By John Gillespie Magee, Jr "Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunwards I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds – and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. Hovering there I’ve chased the shouting wind along And flung my eager craft through footless halls of air. "Up, up the long delirious burning blue I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, where never lark, or even eagle, flew; and, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space, put out my hand and touched the face of God."
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