Ghosts of Sao Tome

Flight Journal, Dec 1999 by Cook, Steve

A HASTILY ASSEMBLED CAST OF SMUGGLERS, DREAMERS, MAVERICKS AND MINISTERS CAME TOGETHER ON A STAGE WHERE A TRAGEDY OF LIFE AND DEATH WAS PLAYED. FOR TWO YEARS, DARING FLIERS CARRYING MERCY SUPPLIES IN RICKETY MACHINES

ROARED INTO THE DOMINION OF HELL ITSELF. THOUGH MOST OF THE PILOTS SURVIVED. MILLIONS OF THOSE THEY WERE TRYING TO SAVE PERISHED. IT WAS A NOBLE EFFORT THAT WOULD END AS AN EXERCISE IN FUTILITY, NOW NEARLY FORGOTTEN.

Perched on the equator in the Gulf of Guinea under the shelf of Africa's former Ivory Coast, the tiny island nation of Sao Tome and Principe is a peaceful tropical garden. For most of the 122,000 residents who scrape out a living in the cocoa or coffee export trade, life passes slowly and unremarkably in this former Portuguese colony.

For a brief time at the end of the 1960s, however, the attention of the entire world was focused here. Sao Tome Island, about the size of metro Washington D.C., was then the hub of one of the most bittersweet humanitarian efforts of this century-the Biafran airlift. A hastily assembled cast of smugglers, dreamers, mavericks and ministers came together on a stage where a tragedy of life and death was played. For two years, daring fliers carrying mercy supplies in rickety machines roared into the dominion of hell itself. Though most of the pilots survived, millions of those they were trying to save perished. It was a noble effort that would end as an exercise in futility, now nearly forgotten.

At Sao Tome's airport, covered to the engine nacelles in thick undergrowth, two Lockheed Constellations remain precisely where they were abandoned in 1970. The windows and cargo doors are gaping black holes now, inviting all manner of vagrant wildlife to enter. Where the aluminum skin has been exposed to the searing sun there are large blotches of black mold with ugly streaks running down the sides of the fuselages. Barely visible are foot-tall block letters that spell out "CANAIRELIEF." But, how did they get there?

The story

In 1957, the Sao Tome twins, both L-1049H models, emerged from the Lockheed assembly line in Burbank, California, bearing sequential construction numbers 4831 and 4832. Originally operated by National Airlines, they were eventually acquired by CANAIRELIEF--a cooperative of Canadian church missions-- and registered as "CF-NAL" and "CF-NAM." In 1968, they and two other Super H Connies--CF-NAJ (C/N 4828) and CF-NAK (C/N 4829) were flown to Sao Tome. There, they joined a small air force of other Connies, DC-6s and -7s, C-46s and various other large cargo aircraft. This eclectic group of commercially obsolete transports flew for a variety of organizations, but most came under the umbrella of Joint Church Aid, which represented Roman Catholic and Protestant churches around the world. They went in response to an explosive mixture of modern politics and centuries-old tribal hostility in a country just across the Gulf to the north-Nigeria.

From 1960 through '65, Nigeria had emerged from British Crown rule to ostensibly become a shining example of an independent developing nation. Of the three major tribes-Ibo, Yoruba and Hausa-that made up Nigeria's population, the Ibos, though a minority, displayed remarkable industriousness and ambition. As a result, they held most of the pivotal business positions in the new country. However, they had little voice in politics, and they faced much animosity because of their economic success.

In 1966, violence erupted. A January military coup led by Ibo officers was avenged by a bloody countercoup in June. In the months that followed, Ibos across Nigeria became the targets of unspeakable violence and wholesale murder. In just a few weeks, more than 10,000 had been killed by their own country-- men. Fearing genocide, the Ibo leaders called on all tribe members to return to their traditional homeland in the southwest section of the country. There, they closed ranks and seceded from Nigeria. The nation they formed was called "Biafra"-the ancient tribal name of these lands. A roughly circular territory, it contained the vital Port Harcourt on the southern coast. It also sat smack atop one of the largest oilfield basins in continental Africa, which had been the source of most of Nigeria's new wealth. In the autumn of 1966, the civil war began in earnest.

Maverick pilot

One of the main players in the early days of the conflict was a flamboyant pilot known as Hank Warton. Born in Poland (then Germany) in 1916, Warton began flying in the '40s and earned his commercial license in 1947. A self-styled entrepreneur and adventurer, in the early '60s, he dabbled in a variety of legitimate and blackmarket supply operations. It was during the war in the Congo that he had discovered the obscene profits to be made through provisioning a killing machine.

"He was a complex, shadowy, controversial figure," relates author Michael Robson. Researching an upcoming book on the Biafran conflict, Robson interviewed the elderly, now ailing, Warton last year. "Hank had his fingers into many things."