Shackleton 1718 | Stettynskloof disaster | a Waggle of the Wings | 8 August 1963 | Plumstead Cemetery

I have written previously about Desiree Barry of McGregor and the 1963 Shackleton airplane accident in Stettynskloof. This article is a continuation on that theme, for much has transpired in the two years since I found and first wrote about this story.

To recap:

I found (during September 2022) in the Johannesburg house of a deceased hoarder, Willie Bezuidenhout of the SABC, a letter from one Desiree Barry. The letter was date stamped as having being sent from the village of McGregor, not far from Robertson in the Western Cape. Desiree had sent the letter to her friend Willie four days after the horrific crash in 1963 of a South African Air Force Shackleton in Stettynskloof in the mountains of the Boland, where all 13 crew members aboard lost their lives.  

In her letter she requests Willie to "plaas een dosyn rooi rose op sy graf, na die begrafnis (place a dozen red roses on his grave, after the funeral)” at the funeral in Springs of one 2nd Lt. George Smith, the second navigator on the ill-fated Shackleton flight. 2nd Lt. Smith was then the lover of 17 year old Desiree, then a first year student at UCT. “Die een wat sterf het, het my hart in sy hande gehou (the one that died, he held my heart in his hands)”.

When I read Desiree's letter two years ago my heart stopped. Almost literally, but that is a story for another time. I knew that Shackleton aircraft all too well. It lies scattered across the Stettynskloof valley. I have struggled past with my bicycle, as broken as the aircraft itself. How could I possibly be holding a letter in my hands that was about one of that Shackleton crew?

When us riders crash our way through the thick hakea and fynbos on our way to the finish at Diemersfontein during the annual Freedom Challenge Race Across South Africa (from Pietermaritzburg to Wellington, 2150km in total) we come across  remnants of the airplane, reminders of the 13 aircrew that died that day 61 years ago. For twenty one years, every July without fail, Freedom riders have paid homage to the crew of the Shackleton 1718.

Last week I met with George Botha of the nearby Stettyns Family Vineyards (a stunning venue). George is in his late seventies and he told me about the day he and one of the farm laborers hiked over the looming mountains to the site of the wreckage, roughly six weeks after the accident happened all those years ago. George was in Standard 9 at the time, a fit young schoolboy. He remembers collecting some flares, a harness, various ammunition and a helmet. “Wreckage was strewn everywhere, although we couldn’t find the fuselage for some reason”.

Later records indicate that the wreckage lies over 1.4km along the narrow and imposing valley. George and the laborer slept overnight at the Stettynskloof Dam on their return trip before his mother picked them up the next morning. On their return he battled to light the flare but “once I tied it to a rope and then lit the rope it worked, that is for sure”.

Stettyns Family Vineyards have branded their premium wine range as the “Shackleton” range. Johannes Botha (shareholder), and Sarel Meyer (CEO), of Stettyns Family Vineyards, took me through their personal links with the Shackleton disaster. I told them about the letter from Desiree. They told me about the 60th anniversary of the Shackleton accident that they hosted last year. “We hired a helicopter and flew family members to the accident site. One of them was the daughter of one of the crew. She was six years old at the time her father died”. We will have further discussions I hope, this story deserves some time in the sun. Perhaps one of their wines could one day be bottled under the label "Desiree"? Stranger things have happened.

Yesterday a friend of mine, Renn Holzhauzen (a fellow Freedom rider) and I visited Plumstead Cemetery. We had been told that seven of the graves of the thirteen aircrew who died lie in the cemetery. Karl runs the cemetery office. He knew where the graves were and told us where to go. Later on he showed us the grave register which recorded the date of burial. 15 August 1963, exactly one week after the accident.

Four of the graves have headstones. Three are unmarked. Renn and I wondered how this could be. “Did no-one in their families want to honor their memory? What about the SAAF? Surely they could have done something?”

A few days back I managed to contact one of the family members of the crash victims, an Owen Sivertsen from Windhoek. Sarel Meyer from Stettyns had given me his number. Owen was part of the Sivertsen family delegation that came to the 60th anniversary event last year. Their relative was the flight captain of the ill-fated Shackleton, Captain Thomas Sivertsen.

Sivertsen is a unusual name but I had come across it before when I lived in Windhoek during the early 1990s. One Dave Sivertsen was one of my squash buddies. Our fathers had been to school at the same time in the late 1940s and early 1950s.

“Yes, Dave, is also a relative" I was informed, “in fact he came to the 60th reunion last year, hosted by Stettyns Family Vineyards”. Owen forwarded Dave’s number to me, he lives in the UK now. Another bizarre personal connection or coincidence in this unravelling story.

Owen also told me about some of the stories that were discussed at the 60th anniversary dinner. One such story hinted at a last minute substitution of one of the navigators, apparently due to some tension relating to “an awkward situation relating to an woman”. Swopped navigators, affairs, a letter from a lover, what is going on here? Maybe I misheard.

I wonder, McGregor is just over the mountains from Stettynskloof. The cause of the accident was “pilot error", as per the official inquest report. The authorized flight path was meant to have taken the plane out across False Bay towards Port Elizabeth, the final destination. For some reason the actual route taken was directly over the Boland Mountains. A fatal decision given the horrific weather conditions.

Is there a chance that the route chosen (unofficially) went deliberately over the town of McGregor, perchance to "dip the wings" as a “hi” to a 17 year old Desiree looking up from the family farm below? Surely not, but we were all young once. Who amongst us hasn't tried to impress, with a military swagger, a young woman? If this was the reason for the flight path deviation (and we will likely never know) what would our response be? Reckless for sure, but I'd smile. What we all do for love.

I think I’ll go back to McGregor tomorrow and find out more about Desiree Barry. Perhaps after I have visited the SAAF Museum at Ysterplaat where the last remaining Shackleton is housed. John Wilson, the curator, might be able to shed further light.