Chapter 3

Pilanesberg International Airport, North West province.

Nestled on the south side of Pilanesberg National Park, and a stone’s throw away from the Sun City and Lost City Hotel and casino complex, Pilanesberg Airport resides at an elevation of 3,412 feet (1,040m) above mean sea level. It has one runway designated 05/23 with an asphalt surface measuring 2,750 by 30 metres (9,022 ft × 98 ft), serving Sun City and Pilanesberg National Park in the North West province of South Africa. The terrain is mostly flat on the east, south, and west side of the airport, with small hills dotting the landscape that stretches south to the Magaliesberg Mountain Range just past the city of Rustenburg.

On the north side of the airport, the rocky, circular mountains of an ancient inactive volcano rise from the savannah. Within these old volcanic rock hills and mountains lies Pilanesberg National Park, home to the Big Five animals: Elephant, Rhino, Buffalo, Leopard, and Lion. The airport primarily serves the Sun City Hotel and the SANPARKS Pilanesberg Park, resulting in flights being spaced far apart and the airport experiencing quiet times. Today was such a day, and with the blessing of the tower, Leon and Brian with their two L-39 Albatroses were welcome to fly in the airspace, practising for the upcoming Rustenburg air show.

The two Albatroses streaked over the runway, shattering the mid-morning quietness of the area. Up in the tower, the two air traffic controllers had their eyes plastered to their binoculars, drinking in the antics of the two jets. Likewise, on the apron and in the departure and arrival halls, staff and some visitors also took in the exciting manoeuvres of the two jets. They danced in the air in a ballet of twists and turns, loops and rolls, looking as if they were glued together.

The jets roared overhead, their sleek bodies glinting in the sun as they performed synchronized barrel rolls. The powerful roar of their engines reverberated through the terminal, drawing passengers and staff alike to the windows. Outside, a few ground crew members paused their work, shading their eyes with their hands to watch the spectacle above.

Leon and Brian pushed their jets to the limit, executing tight turns and sharp climbs, their movements choreographed to perfection. The L-39s ascended in tandem, then separated briefly before coming together in a breathtaking head-on pass, narrowly missing each other before spiralling away in opposite directions. Cheers and gasps echoed through the airport as onlookers marvelled at the display of skill and precision.

From the tower, the controllers continued to track the jets, their voices filled with admiration and a hint of envy as they communicated with the pilots. The two L-39s looped back towards the runway, diving low before pulling up sharply and cutting through the sky in a series of heart-stopping manoeuvres. The mid-morning calm had given way to the thunderous excitement of the air show practice, leaving everyone at Pilanesberg Airport with a sense of awe and anticipation for the real event to come.

It was during the second-to-last loop that chaos and mayhem erupted. Leon, confident that Brian had overcome whatever had troubled him and was performing well, called for the second-to-last loop.

At four hundred knots indicated airspeed (KIAS), the two jets streaked from west to east at three hundred feet above ground level (AGL) over the runway. Just as they reached the middle of the runway, Leon called, “Vertical Loop ... GO!” The two jets, side by side with their wings a mere two meters apart, lifted their noses into a vertical climb.

Halfway up the loop, as they streaked vertically upward, Red 3 seemed to slow down. Leon noticed that Red 3 appeared to drop back slightly. Then Red 3 turned slightly to the left, faltering in its climb.

Leon, in Red 1, continued the loop. At the top of the loop, while inverted, he saw Red 3 nosediving toward the ground. Leon’s heart stopped as he watched Red 3 wiggling its wings from side to side, as if Brian were struggling to regain control of the plummeting jet. Then the jet rolled inverted.

Realizing that something was dramatically wrong and that Red 3 was dangerously close to the ground, Leon shouted into his boom mike inside his oxygen mask, “EJECT! EJECT! EJECT!” But Red 3 was already inverted. Ejecting was useless.

“Oil warning light came on. Engine failing...” (garbled noise) For a moment, Red 3 seemed to go straight and level, then its left wing dropped. Leon realized the jet had stalled. The jet rolled upright again, and it looked like Brian got control of the craft.

Again, Leon shouted, “EJECT! EJECT! EJECT!” But in horror, he watched as Red 3 hit the ground belly flat. In an instant, an orange-red fireball tinged with dark black patches blossomed from the impact site. The fireball rose and blossomed into a raging inferno.

Sick to his stomach, Leon controlled his breathing, spun his jet upright, and levelled his wings. His hands trembled on the control stick, his mind reeling from the sight of his friend’s jet exploding into a fiery wreck.

He then transmitted to Pilanesberg Tower, his voice steady but laced with anguish, “Pilanesberg Tower, Red One, permission for full-stop landing runway 23.”

The response came swiftly, the urgency palpable. “Red One, permission granted, fly straight in. Winds calm at zero knots. You are clear to land runway 23.”

“Clear to land Runway 23, Red One,” Leon replied, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“Red One, park anywhere you want. We’ve seen what happened. A security car will pick you up at your aircraft. Shut down at your convenience.”

“Thanks, Pilanesberg. Appreciated.” Leon’s voice was barely above a whisper as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

As he lined up for the final approach, the weight of the tragedy pressed heavily on him. The familiar runway below, usually a sight of triumph and routine, now felt like a solemn path to a grim aftermath. He touched down smoothly, the landing almost mechanical in its precision.

Once on the ground, he taxied slowly, the adrenaline fading and leaving a hollow ache in its wake. The security car was already in position, a grim acknowledgement of the disaster that had unfolded. Leon brought the jet to a stop, his hands still trembling as he shut down the engine.

He removed his helmet and oxygen mask, taking in deep, shuddering breaths. The reality of what had happened began to sink in, and he sat in the cockpit for a moment, staring at the distant plume of black smoke marking where Red 3 had gone down.

The security personnel approached, their faces a mix of concern and urgency. Leon climbed out of the cockpit, his legs feeling weak. As he descended the flip-out steps of the Albatros entry and exit ladder, he was met with sombre nods and a respectful silence. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on everyone present.

Leon was led to the security car, his mind replaying the horrific moments over and over: the sight of the fireball, and the gut-wrenching realization that Brian was gone. The journey back to the terminal was a blur, the once vibrant and bustling airport now overshadowed by the tragedy that had struck.

In the quiet of the terminal, surrounded by the murmurs of concerned onlookers and the hushed tones of the airport staff, Leon felt a profound sense of loss. The camaraderie and thrill of the flight had given way to a stark reminder of the dangers they faced. As he sat down, his head was in his hands and the weight of grief settled over him. He knew that this day would be etched in his memory forever.

“Why didn’t Brian eject? The aircraft can be replaced, but not Brian!”

While Leon was bringing his jet down for landing, the airport’s emergency services sprang into action. Fire trucks and recovery personnel sped towards the crash site, approximately five kilometres from the airport. The sirens wailed, and the vehicles raced through the savannah landscape, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. The urgency of the situation was palpable, and every second counted.

In the tower, the air traffic controllers were a flurry of activity, making crucial calls and coordinating the response. The South African Civil Aviation Authority (SACAA) was notified immediately, as per protocol. The controller’s voice was steady but tinged with the gravity of the situation as they relayed the details of the crash and requested immediate support and oversight from SACAA investigators.

Simultaneously, the South African Police Service (SAPS) was alerted. The controller provided precise coordinates of the crash site and detailed the current situation, emphasizing the need for a swift response to secure the area and assist with any potential search and rescue operations.

The neighbouring air traffic control towers—Rustenburg, Brits, Lanseria, and Wonderboom—were all informed of the incident. The controllers at these towers were instructed to divert incoming flights and to keep the airspace around Pilanesberg International Airport (FAPN) clear. The airspace was temporarily closed due to the influx of emergency vehicles and incident investigators. Pilots of any aircraft within the vicinity were notified of the airspace closure and rerouted as necessary.

Emergency air ambulances from nearby hospitals were scrambled. The controllers also coordinated with the local hospital, ensuring that they were ready to receive any casualties. Medical facilities in Rustenburg and surrounding areas were put on high alert, prepared for potential injuries.

The firefighting teams, with their specialized equipment, were briefed en route to the crash site on the hazardous nature of jet fuel and the potential for secondary explosions. Their primary objective was to extinguish the raging inferno and secure the area for the recovery teams.

On the ground, additional emergency services were mobilized. The airport’s own emergency response team, trained for such scenarios, quickly set up a command centre to manage the coordination between different responding units.

Incident investigators from SACAA were en route, their minds already working through the steps they would need to take to determine the cause of the crash. They carried with them specialized tools and equipment to meticulously document the scene, collect evidence, and preserve any clues that might explain what had gone wrong during that fateful loop.

Rustenburg City, Central Business District.

Ally and I strolled leisurely through the park, our footsteps soft on the grass, until we reached a serene pond adorned with water lilies. The surface of the dark, still water was dotted with white and pink blossoms, their petals open in full bloom. On the far side of the pond, tall reeds swayed gently, their green stalks alive with the movement of weaver birds darting in and out, their vibrant feathers adding flashes of colour to the tranquil scene.

We found a spot to sit on the green grass lawn, beneath the shade of an ancient willow tree. Its drooping branches framed our view of an old wooden bridge that spanned the pond. A kingfisher perched on the bridge’s railing, its sharp eyes fixed on the water below, a silent testament to the life hidden beneath the surface. I found myself wondering if there were fish in the pond, but seeing the kingfisher’s keen focus, I was certain it knew better than I did.

My cell phone whirred in my pocket, breaking the peaceful moment. I glanced at the display: Peter.

“Sorry, Firefly, but I got to take this call,” I said, standing up.

“No worries, Alex. Go on. I’ll just watch the birds a little longer,” Ally replied, her eyes still on the flurry of activity among the reeds.

I walked a few steps away and answered the call, my mouth suddenly dry. “Pete?” I croaked.

“Okay, Alex. You can bring her back. Leon is okay. It’s Brian that went in, and it doesn’t look good.”

“Thank God it’s not Leon. What happened?” I asked, relief and anxiety mingling in my chest.

“It’s still a mystery. Leon said they were pulling up for a loop, and Brian just fell behind, stalled, and went in.”

“Crap! Engine flame out?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But we will find out. In the meantime, you’re cleared for landing. Just break the news to you-know-who, gently. She rather liked Brian.”

“I’ll try to sugar coat it as much as possible. Okay, Pete, let me go. And Pete, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just be cool, dude.”

I returned to Ally and sat down beside her, feeling the weight of the news pressing down on me.

“Ally, don’t be alarmed, but there was an accident...” I began, but she cut me off.

“Daddy!”

“No, Brian.”

“Is he...?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“What happened, Alex?” she asked, her voice calmer but her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Looks like engine failure...” I fibbed, trying to sound reassuring. “We don’t know yet.”

“We must go back, Alex...” she said, her eyes wide and earnest, her small, cool hand gripping my arm. “The team needs us now. All of us together.”

“Yes, Firefly ... Let’s go back.”

Ally’s reaction was a mix of immediate concern and resolve. The initial panic in her voice at the mention of an accident showed how deeply she cared, but her quick shift to wanting to support the team revealed her strength and determination. She was visibly shaken, her eyes reflecting the turmoil inside, but she managed to steady herself, ready to face whatever came next. Her touch on my arm was a silent plea for reassurance, and I knew we had to be strong for each other and the team.

In the van driving back to the airport, Ally was staring out the side window with her hands in her lap, subdued. Then she turned to me:

“You knew about the accident before we came here to town...” She said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes. That’s what Pete came to tell me.”

“And you took me away. Why?”

“Because we were not sure at the time who went in. Red One, or Red Three.”

“And you wanted to shield me from the fact that it could have been ... daddy?”

“Yes.”

Ally turned back to the window and was silent for a few minutes then she just spoke softly: “Thanks, Alex. I appreciate it. That’s why I love you for being a friend.”

“Ally, I know ... Thanks for putting up with me.”

“No, I will always be your friend. You are my parachute.”

“Your parachute?”

“Yes, you always come up for me. Protect me. Remember the time daddy wanted to wear out my bottom for being naughty? You came up for me and calmed daddy down.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “More than once...”

Giggle. “And someday you will go away, and I’ll be on my own again...”

“I’m not planning going anywhere.”

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Only time will tell. Anything can happen.”

The drive continued in silence.

SABC News Office, Auckland Park, Johannesburg.

As with any disaster of this magnitude, the information inevitably leaked out. At Auckland Park, back at the SABC, Georgie’s phone rang incessantly, disrupting her creative flow as she crafted the next news bulletin. Irritated, she snatched up the receiver and hissed into it, her frustration palpable.

“YES! What’s it?”

“My, my, Blossom, you are uptight. What’s with you?”

“I’m busy, Antonio! I’m on a deadline here.”

“Well, drop it and get your skinny butt over to Pilanesberg International. There was a jet crash.”

“Oh, come on, Antonio. Aeroplanes don’t just fall out of the sky like the last one!”

“Well, Blossom, this one is real. Confirmed by eyewitnesses. Get old John and get a move on.”

“Do you know where Pilanesberg International is, Antonio? It’s a two and a half-hour drive.”

“I know, sweetheart. I want visuals, your sweet voice, and pretty face in the evening news. NOW MOVE!” The line went dead.

“Freaking moron! Can’t HE get smashed into the ground into a pulp!” Georgie muttered angrily as she dialled John’s number.

“Hi Georgie, I know, and I’m moving. This one is real! SAFM is already broadcasting it on their twelve o’clock news. It’s a military style jet, but privately owned by an air show display team, and there might be fatalities. I’ll get you by the van.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” Georgie replied, slamming the phone back into its cradle. She grabbed her handbag and backpack in a flurry of motion, her mind racing. “Pilanesberg? We might get there by two or three PM. This is going to be a very late night!” The thought ran through her mind as she closed and locked her office door. “I better get Susan to feed my cat ... John and I might stay over in Rustenburg...”