Three Kisses in Honiara: The Edge, War and Romance in Paradise

By Ronald Benjamin

Exploration at its best. Enjoy the stimulation of this true-to-life adventure as you join in with this air crew flying at the edge, and their unique experience and larger-than-life characters.
This is their story and that of related events that have passed over one of the world's most magnificent archipelagoes.

In 1966, the UN sponsored this airborne geological survey of the Solomon Islands that set the scene for this experience in the dynamics of its operation, romantic interlude and intrigue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jul 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228855569

Ronald Benjamin

Ronald Benjamin Pearce was born and raised in Sydney. He attended technical college in his early years, and worked and contracted in the building industry before taking on flying as a commercial pilot. He flew aerial survey aircraft for seven and a half years in operations all over Australia, New Guinea and the Solomon Islands before moving to North Queensland and establishing his own air charter and air tour operation, as well as a building business. A lifetime of diversity and adventure has been enjoyed, with many stories gathered along the way.

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Three Kisses in Honiara

The Edge, War and Romance in Paradise

Ronald Benjamin

Three Kisses in Honiara

Copyright © 2021 by Ronald Benjamin

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-5555-2 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-5556-9 (eBook)

Table of Contents

Foreword

Hello Honiara

Yandina - First Sorties

Vella Lavella - The Pace Is On

Subterfuge Supreme

Liapari Lagoon

Queen’s Birthday Ball

The Warriors Return

Guadalcanal is Dancing

Malaita - The Big Challenge

Back to Barakoma

Honiara Send Off and Ons

The Last Blast

Goodbyes - Bad Vibes

Grounded by LBJ

Sydney Not So Serene

Career Decisions

Postscript

Authors Notes

Relevant Aussie Colloquialisms

Foreword

This is the story of an adventure and some dynamic events that have passed over one of this world’s most magnificent tropical archipelagos, and the people and character of these islands at the time.

As much as one can recall, after another fifty-five or more trips around the sun since, these events and characters are real. I will not attempt to verify the complete authenticity of any part of this book, and I can only apologise for any discomfort caused to anyone who might relate to the characters portrayed. All the locations are correct, as are most of the names. Only those I can’t remember are substitutes.

This time in the Solomon Islands’ history must not be forgotten! Traveling back in time, I will to the best of my ability, take you with us on this adventure. In all my years travelling and working throughout the tropics, I have never come across anywhere to surpass the beauty and serenity of the Solomon Islands.

At the time (1966), these islands were the British Solomon Island Protectorate (BSIP) and at the height of their colonial administration and lifestyle. The peace and beauty of these islands were in complete contrast to most writing that, in the main, tended to denigrate this remote part of our globe.

This book is dedicated to the Solomon Island people, the Allies and Japanese who fought so bravely in this arena, and the many who lived and worked there. It is my hope this book will help this magnificent region and that its people will receive the recognition they so richly deserve.

Aeronautically you will experience the dynamics of this adventure and see how aviators must apply themselves to the task at hand, regardless of the circumstances of their operations. There is indeed a vast diversity to be experienced within aviation, and I would encourage any enthusiast to explore the many career opportunities on offer.

You may wonder at some digressions from the adventure theme of this book and the inference therein. This emanates from good Gen correlated from decades of ad hoc encounters with many characters who, without prompting, willingly divulged their knowledge relating to these events. The reality revealed will be of far greater value to history and to all who participated in its making, and who are concerned with its authenticity.

In passing, one would hope to also point to the total atrocity of war, where there are no real winners and when its darkest moments leave those left behind without answers to bear eternal grief in the wake of its devastation. Let us hope that humanity may see war for what it is—an appalling waste of life and resources.

Hello Honiara

Looking down, Ron gazed upon a mosaic of coral reefs and rugged tropical islands as they passed beneath the Friendship. The deep blue of the sea faded in shades then changed to light green along the island shore and over areas of shallow reef, giving a jewel-like impression.

That looks like paradise out there, he thought.

Ron had been fascinated by the diversity of island shapes passing below and tried to envisage the significance they would pose to his new employment. Now, as they neared his destination of Honiara, he looked forward to arriving after a long day flying out of Sydney early on the Lockheed Electra to Port Moresby and Lae, then changing to the once a fortnight Friendship flight to Honiara, stopping at Rabaul and Buka Passage in Bougainville on the way. Now late in the day, clouds built up above the islands, and some towering cumulus drifted across the sea trailing rain that appeared heavy in parts.

This job ahead is going to be an adventure for certain and a challenge, demanding the utmost of a pilot’s skill and concentration. Ron was to join the United Nations-sponsored Airborne Geophysical Survey Operation covering most of the Solomon Islands as a pilot on low-level contact flying.

Only three weeks ago, he had given up a charter pilot job in Queensland and driven the family back to Sydney. The flying had been good, but Ron had been required to fly the company’s three single-engine aircraft, constantly changing from one to the other, while the chief pilot had only bothered to fly the company’s twin-engine aircraft once a week with his favored clients.

Ron had gained a lot of flying hours in a few months on station runs and charters out west to remote cattle and sheep stations where the drought had left the country practically grassless, and cattle starved to death lay alongside the dusty airstrips. Early flights down to Brisbane to start the paper run, dropping off at Maryborough, Bundaberg Rockhampton, Mackay, and then back to Rocky. Up at 4:00 am to be airbourne at first light with cattle buyers and auctioneers on board, attending two or three dusty cattle sales. All day sitting on the fence waving away flies with the Aussie salute then trying to get his passengers out of the local and onboard in time to get back to Rocky before dark.

Without realizing it, he had become fatigued, having flown eleven days straight and done ninety hours on duty over the last week. It was too much, and he had been working station runs out of Mackay for a week, leaving his wife, Rene, alone with a three-year-old and a one-year-old to look after.

Rocky was in the midst of a mosquito plague, making nights under mossy nets oppressive with any body part against the net being eaten alive.

‘It’s no good, Rene. We will have to go back home to Sydney. We can’t go on like this. There’s no future in it here.’ A couple of days off had given Ron time to think. To stay here led to a dead end, with no possible chance of advancement and he didn’t like Rocky much anyway. He stood there glancing at the ceiling with its gathering cloud of mosquitoes and then at Rene, waiting for her response.

She looked apprehensive, slender and taller than average she stood upright, her blue eyes wide with another move, after they had driven up from Sydney towing the caravan they’d built and named Skippy. It would mean another big change. ‘But you need a job, we have a family to look after, and you’re getting lots of flying. Don’t you like that?’

‘The flying is good, but I’m not getting a fair go. That lazy bum Ken is only flying once a week, and Don, my boss, is making me do all the rest. And look at this place; we can’t go on living like this. I’ll get a job back in my trade if I can’t find another flying job. Besides, we are paying rent here, and our own house is empty in Sydney.’

‘When will we be leaving? Don’t you have to give notice or something?’ Young mothers don’t like uncertainties, and Rene was no exception. Though tougher than most, she wasn’t sure this was a good move.

Ron had made his decision, and that was that. ‘We’re leaving soon. Start packing. I’ll go and see Don now.’

On the way to the airport, Ron brooded over the past week’s flying. He had tried to cope but had ended up exhausted, with no thanks for his efforts. The biggest mistake Don had made was giving him time to think. It’s no good. I’m out of here. No turning back.

‘Hello, Ron. Enjoy your days off, I trust? We will need you back at work. It’s going to be busy again.’ Don ran his charter operation with a business first, Don next, and an all-else- later philosophy.

Ron didn’t hesitate, not wanting to get pressured into the same workload he had just been through. ‘Don, I have decided to go back to Sydney. I’m afraid it’s not working out for the family up here.’ He evaded complaining about the workload. He was leaving anyway, so what was the point.

Don’s head went back, and he looked at Ron. He needed a pilot and would be in trouble if Ron left. ‘When are you leaving?’

‘Tomorrow’ was all Ron answered. Don reeled back, but he knew he meant what he said, and that was it.

Three days later, back in Sydney and in need of a new job, Ron had managed to get an interview with Avis Rent-a-Plane. They had advertised for experienced pilots with instrument and twin-engine ratings. Branching out from their nationwide car rental enterprise, Avis had created an air service of considerable note, driven primarily by manager and chief pilot Peter. Peter was of Swedish origin, and with an airline background, he had pushed hard to establish the flying branch for the Avis organisation. Fronting for the interview, Ron sensed a strong sense of superiority coming from his adversary. This is going to be tough; he knew.

‘Take a seat. How long have you been flying, and where were you based? What endorsements and rating do you have?’ and so the interrogation went on.

To fly out of Sydney would be good, and Ron made every effort to impress and convince Peter he would be of value.

‘I have flown all over Australia in every State and have been in charter for some time.’ After a good hearing, however, the requirement for an instrument ratings went against getting the job, even though he had a thousand hours of flying experience.

Peter’s interview had been searching, and he could see Ron had covered a lot of ground in the time he had been flying, but he didn’t have a position available for a single-engine pilot. ‘We are looking for more experienced pilots. I can’t offer you anything but thank you for coming in.’

There was just one last chance. Six months earlier, Ron had seen the two Avis Aztec aircraft being fitted out for the Solomon Islands operation at Bankstown Airport and had approached Beryl, the pilot in charge. Avis was supplying the aircraft and pilots for ABEM, the Swedish company contracted to the United Nations for the project.

Beryl didn’t give any worth to his experience as a geophysical survey pilot when he tried to bring it to her attention and practically ignored him as inexperienced and just another greenhorn pilot annoying her, so he had taken the charter job in Queensland. The news on the grapevine had it that the project in the Solomon Islands was not going so well, and they were having trouble getting pilots who could handle the flying, which was not surprising. It’s not the sort of flying for the average pilot and needs one who is highly alert and has plenty of nerve. Ron looked back at Peter, and although he had been avoiding it, with his steely blue gaze firmly fixed on Peter, he said, slightly raising his voice. ‘I have four hundred hours geophysical flying!’

Peter’s look was one of astonishment. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened. His other wish had been granted. ‘I have just one job for you!’ he stated. The climate changed instantly from out in the cool to come in and join the party.

The next thing was to tell Rene. ‘I got a job, and the pay is good, a lot more than the charter job paid, and they are giving me a twin endorsement, but I have to go overseas for about six months to the Solomon Islands. It’s survey flying again.’

Rene was uncertain how to take this news. The job would be an opportunity for Ron, but being apart for so long didn’t sound so good. ‘You’re going away and leaving me!’ she said with apprehension and cringed at the prospect of being left alone with their two little boys to care for.

‘It’s not that long, and it’s our chance to get ahead. I will have the living away allowance, and you’ll get all the wages, so we should be able to save lots.’

She rather thought that would be good and would be worth it, after all. Now, comfortably back in the timber cottage they had built, she felt secure and had family and friends at hand. ‘Well, okay. How long before you have to go away?’

‘In about a week, and the Aztec endorsement is this weekend. Peter has invited you to come with us down to Wollongong while he trains me and is also giving Beth, a lady pilot, a revision on twin-engine aircraft, so you will have someone to talk about it to.’ He was trying to give her confidence by way of involvement.

The pressure was on with a passport and vaccinations needed, pilot handbook, twin-engine aircraft handling notes, checklists, and emergency procedures to take in. It was understood the endorsement would be rigorous with five hours minimum required—no doubt about that. Peter made sure that the five hours was white-knuckled and of the sweaty variety. That done, it left just two days to see the family and be ready to go.

In the midst of some large cloud build-ups in the area, the Friendship started to descend, bounced about as terra firma got closer. Throughout the cabin, passengers who had tried to sleep and pass the hours sat up. The cabin crew scurried to tidy up and see all were strapped into their seats. The drinking party a couple of seat rows back tried to order another round of intoxication.

‘Sorry, sir, we will be landing soon,’ the hostess politely refusing despite their efforts to persuade her.

We are low enough to land but going like a rocket. What’s the go here? Ron thought. Then palms and Honiara’s rooftops flashed by only a few feet below, followed by the pull-up. We beat the place up. Standard procedure, so he would find out later.

No one could be certain when the flight would arrive, so to make sure the agent, Customs, and anyone else would be out to meet the aircraft, you had to buzz the place. It was the same procedure with Fiji Air’s once a fortnight Heron flight from Nandi and the once-a-week DC3 milk run from Lae. Much better to stay in town where one could enjoy a cool drink than wait around out at the airfield, not knowing when the flight would be in.

On stepping out of the aircraft, Lindsay, the aircraft engineer working for Avis standing at the foot of the boarding stairs, introduced himself to Ron. He looked a little scruff and worse for wear in his shorts, sandals and oil-stained shirt He proceeded to tell Ron in no time flat all he thought was wrong with the operation. Maintaining aircraft that were pushed to the limit and getting parts and support from Sydney wasn’t as good as it could be, so it seemed. He had resigned once already and was about to again if things didn’t get better.

‘The pilots can’t get the job done or look after the aircraft,’ he complained.

A view held by some engineers anyway, Ron thought, but then, they don’t have to fly them.

After giving Peter, Beryl and Roslyn a good serve, he headed off towards the hanger with a final remark.

‘And wait till you meet the Swedes!’

Well, that was nice, Ron thought. ‘See you later,’ he waved, ‘There’s a lot more to lookout for here than one would have suspected, so it seems! Hello…Honiara?"

Roslyn had waited at Henderson Airfield for the Friendship to arrive and wondered if this new pilot would be able to handle this kind of flying. Peter had sent her in to keep the operation on track and encourage the pilots who wanted out to stay on till replacements could be found. To her credit, she had handled the flying herself pretty well but was keen to go back to Sydney as there was an opportunity to fly in the United States to follow up.

As the passengers arrived and received the cursory Customs entry stamp, she looked to see who the candidate for her replacement might be. This one? Walking up to her and wearing a coat in the tropics?

Ron wanted to impress and knew who to look for from the publicity Roslyn had received as an up-and-coming female pilot, as well as her ferry flights across the Pacific delivering the two Aztecs to Sydney along with Peter. She had risen through the pilot ranks rapidly, and she was on the way to the top and knew how to get there. Her white pilot’s shirt and dark slacks did nothing to mask her femininity, and her dark hair accentuated her good looks. Much glamourised in aviation and women’s publications, being isolated here was somewhat out of place for her.

‘Roslyn, I’m Ron, your new pilot. Nice to meet you. Peter asked me to give you this,’ said Ron, handing her his letter.

‘Have a good flight.’ Her expressionless look seemed without interest and was a little disconcerting. Ron stood, intending to appear at ease.

‘Yes, long day, though.’

As she read, he gazed at the surroundings, just the usual Department of Civil Aviation type building on an ex-wartime airstrip and no girls with welcoming leis here—pretty ordinary.

In the letter, it said, ‘Roslyn, I am sending you this young pilot because he has four hundred hours geophysical flying experience. He has a thousand hours total. I have just given him his first twin endorsement on the Aztec, which he handled very well.’

Looking up with a half-smile, Roslyn said, ‘You can take your coat off. We have to go over to Yandina in the Cessna 180. That’s where we are operating out of. Have you flown tail-wheel aircraft?’

‘Yes, I learnt to fly on Austers.’

‘Good, you can fly. It’s about half an hour. We can just make it before dark. Let’s go.’

No hesitation or planning—just jump on board and go. As Ron opened the throttle, he recalled, ‘Watch out for the swing as I raise the tail, keep straight with the rudders.’ And they were off, flying back along the rugged north coast of Guadalcanal and across the sea to the Russell Islands.

What a sight with this scattering of little islands and all those palm trees shimmering in the half-light. These were the crown jewels amongst all these islands. As they approached to land, Ron aimed for a three-pointer tail down first landing with a good one following. Getting out of the aircraft, Roslyn said with a smile.

‘Not bad, you flew that okay. Let’s go see what’s on for dinner. You hungry?’

‘I suppose so, hadn’t thought about it really.’

Here you are, he thought, as remote and as far from home one can go in a day.

Yandina - First Sorties

Night fell as they drove away from the airstrip. Sitting in the back of the Holden Utility, Ron could see Roslyn and Gabriel talking and gesturing towards him. ‘What are they saying?’

In his newly acquired English, Gabriel asked. ‘Will this pilot be able to do this flying? He doesn’t look how you say, enough experienced?’

‘Peter sent him because he has flown geophysical survey before, which is more than any of us accept Torsten had before we came here.’

Just as they reached the house, in came a tropical storm, and down it poured in tubs full. One could get soaked in five seconds flat out in it.

Meeting the rest of the crew, one could sense their lack of enthusiasm for newcomers. ‘How long will this one last?’ Ron was now pilot number eight.

Harold, a Pom of more senior variety, came with extensive experience in military and civil aviation, including the Berlin Airlift. He flew the chase aircraft and on top of the flying, but he had been waiting for a replacement for some time. His greeting was friendly, with an air of reservation. Of stocky build, he extended his hand, ‘Come in, welcome to the Solomons. I hope you like it here. We have been waiting for a relief pilot for some time. Have you flown survey before?’

‘Yes, I have. It looks like nice country, but does it always rain like this?’

Harold looked pleased. ‘That’s great. Don’t worry about the rain. It usually rains by late in the day but should be clear by morning.’

The Swedes: Torsten sent over by ABEM, the Swedish Company, to train pilots in this type of operation. That was six months ago. He was one of the original eight Swedish aircrew that had started up the air survey operation for ABEM some years before. Their work had taken them to projects worldwide, including Africa and Bolivia in South America.

In wartime, he had flown three-engine Italian-built Savoia Marchetti bombers as a young pilot in the Swedish Air Force against the Russians in support of Finland. The top dog, he was still here trying to get results only because the powers that be were paying him a significant extra fee. His greeting was with an air of superiority.

‘Hello, I hope you know how to handle this flying. I’m not going to waste time on you if you’re not up to it.’

‘Well, I have flown this type of survey before successfully and don’t expect any problem with it,’ Ron tried to impress.

Roslyn handed Torsten the letter. Torsten read and looked at Ron. ‘Hmm, we’ll see soon enough.’

Gabriel was a technician in his twenties with very Swedish good looks and blond hair, out on