It could still pass as a semi-rural route skirting Canberra's northern boundary and most commuters pay no heed to the solitary sign and locked gate indicating the location of an aviation disaster that shook a nation.
August 13, 2020, marked the 80th anniversary and the mystery and the controversies surrounding what former NSW politician-turned-author Andrew Tink described as “the plane crash that destroyed a government”, still linger as a vapour trail in its wake.
Now known as the Fairbairn Pine Plantation, as the wind whispers through the forest, it’s a place that makes you feel you’re miles from anywhere. And yet, beyond the dense trees on one side are the bright lights of the heart of the Australian Commonwealth; on the other, the bustling regional NSW city of Queanbeyan.
At the summit of its rugged ridge, a RAAF Lockheed Hudson bomber (A16-97) inexplicably plummeted to earth on a sunny, winter's morning eight decades ago.
Today there's a rarely seen stone monument to the 10 victims onboard. Virtually incinerated on impact, they included some of the country's most prominent members of a government then firmly on a war footing.
As August 13, 1940 - a Tuesday - dawned, it had already been anything but ordinary.
Almost a year into a second cataclysmic world conflict, the German Luftwaffe, intent on invasion, had launched its first major air offensive in what became the Battle of Britain.
Far from the skies over England's south-east coast, just before 11am on that day, “about two miles north of the old NSW town of Queanbeyan” along the quiet road between it and the Australian capital, a huge aircraft was seen flying barely a few hundred feet from the ground.
As it crested a rise, on the other side of which was the Canberra aerodrome (then bereft of a proper runway), as one witness would attest, the plane banked sharply to the left and then “turned completely over sideways and hit the ground.”
It was consumed by flames so hot, parts of it melted.
So fierce was it, along with the bodies being burnt beyond recognition, some items such as military insignia, were embedded in their flesh.
While emergency crews arrived almost immediately, it was too late.
There were no survivors.
Guards were stationed to ward off the morbidly curious or any looking for souvenirs that would have included classified documents.
An unfathomable, tragic accident.
Or was it?
The press reported “ideal flying conditions”. Rumours circulated that someone other than Air Force pilot, Flight Lieutenant Bob Hitchcock (28), was at the controls (as well as on his level of expertise). There arose questions of how so many significant political figures could have been travelling together.
The manifest comprised three senior Ministers on their for way from Melbourne to Canberra to attend a Cabinet meeting: Brigadier Geoffrey Street (46) , Minister for the Army; Minister for External Affairs, Sir Henry Gullett (62); and Minister for Air and the RAAF, James Fairbairn (43). Each was a key leader in the Australian war effort.
In addition, the Chief of the General Staff, General Sir Cyril Brudenell White (63), his Liaison Officer, Lt-Colonel Frank Thornthwaite (50), Fairbairn's Private Secretary, Dick Elford (30), and along with the pilot, three other flight crew - Pilot Officer Dick Wiesener (30), Corporal John Palmer (29) and Aircraftman Charles Crosdale (29).
It seems the potential as an act of war – sabotage through espionage – was only briefly entertained, but that didn't stop the conjecture.
Sensationalised stories of “Hand of Fate” proportions appeared almost immediately involving others who were meant to be passengers though for various reasons, weren't.
Ministerial Assistant, Murray Tyrrell, a later Queanbeyan Municipal Councillor, had flown with Fairbairn and Gullett to Canberra in the same plane the previous week. Apparently supposed to again fly,Tyrrell instead took the train.
As detailed in another book on the disaster by Dr Cameron Hazlehurst, a shaken Tyrrell had the unenviable task of presenting the devastating news to the Prime Minister, describing Robert Menzies' reaction as “absolutely stunned”. Unbeknown to the younger man, the PM had himself been intended for that flight, a seat saved for him. One to avoid flying unless necessary, he'd also gone by train.
In the face of a host of inconclusive inquiries, recollections and analysis vary dramatically.
One reason given for the plane circling to make a second approach was because there were sheep grazing upon the strip that served as a makeshift runway.
Statements altered between the descent having been “nose down” or that the bomber had “pancaked”. It would seem the latter, an attempt to land on the only spot of ground cleared of everything but a large log - which ripped away much of the underbelly.
Watches found on the victims had stopped between 10.51 and 10.55am, although a travelling clock that survived read 11.10am.
Menzies didn't, as suggested, return to Melbourne for the funeral service in a plane identical to that still being pored over for clues atop a small Canberra hill. Instead he again took the train, this one bearing his friends and colleagues inside their coffins.
Other persistent speculation involves the degree to which the tragic affair undermined his wartime government.
A week after what the Prime Minister would refer to as “that terrible hour” in which he had felt “the end of the world had come”, he'd call an election for September 21.
He narrowly survived it, but its hung parliament outcome resulted in further instability. Just a year later, Labor's John Curtin would prevail.
According to historian and former Governor-General (1969-1974) Sir Paul Hasluck, the loss of any of the three Ministers individually “would have weakened the Ministry and Parliament. The loss of the three together tore a hole in the fabric of government.”
Menzies' biographer, Allan Martin, noted: “It was a major feature of this tragedy that three of the most influential [of Menzies' Cabinet] – Fairbairn, Gullett and Street – had been killed in the air crash of 1940".
While some downplay its importance, Andrew Tink argues that the event directly contributed to Labor taking power.
“The absence of some of Menzies' most loyal supporters was pivotal,” he explains.
“In addition, Gullett's seat of Henty was won by an independent, Arthur Coles, who ended up holding the balance of power. He backed a budget amendment that amounted to a vote of no confidence, leading to Curtin being commissioned as the Prime Minister. Had Gullett not been killed, none of that would have occurred.”
Controversially, Andrew also posits that it's not inconceivable that Minister Fairbairn, an able pilot who'd flown in WWI (and became a PoW) but with no experience of the notoriously finicky Hudson, had pulled rank on Hitchcock and taken over command.
“A week before the crash, Fairbairn had discussed how he intended to practice landing Hudson bombers which had a 'nasty stalling characteristic' that he felt could be dealt with by better handling of the throttles," says Andrew.
“In light of what happened, I think this is quite damning.”
Furthermore, Andrew points out that the premature removal of the badly burned bodies from the scene meant “it was impossible to tell where they had been in the wreckage.”
Official cause was deemed “most likely” to have been the aircraft stalling and that “pilot error” was at fault. Even immediately after the hearings, this was not universally accepted.
Certainly it's difficult not to entertain the "what if's?".
Would Menzies have held the upper hand in an election that was already close given things hadn't been going well? How would the war effort have progressed had he remained Prime Minister? And what if he had himself been on that flight as intended?
Appearing almost 20 years on from what was a national tragedy, the Memorial sits within a small open gravel area, surrounded by five eucalpyts. According to the National Capital Authority, the idea the trees “may be the vestiges of the original heavily wooded hilltop” is dubious in the face of the reported intensity of heat following the crash.
There was also a suggestion the location was wrong - that it was further away from the actual site itself (it sits on what was a portion of the Royal Military College firing field and manoeuvre area, which still operates nearby).
The area was updated for the anniversary in 2003, with the addition of a traffic island intended to resemble an aircraft wing.
At a gathering to mark it, organised by Andrew Tink, in attendance were descendants and friends of those onboard - many of the memories still painful after so many years. In particular, the family of pilot Hitchcock. Sadly, his widow wound up taking her own life.
Equally tragic, the wife of Aircraftman Charles Crosdale - one of seven brothers who served - had given birth to their first child, Gary, on the day her husband was killed.
A victim of thoughtless vandalism over the years, the area came to be fenced off and locked.
Claims in 2013 of plans to upgrade it haven't amounted to a great deal: access is still difficult and largely unknown.
Estelle Blackburn, a former ABC journalist and author, has long lobbied the ACT Government to see it receive more attention.
"Andrew Tink and I succeeded in getting the ACT to make a path with direction markers and a map so that people could find the Memorial," says Estelle.
"We're currently lobbying for vehicle traffic because otherwise it's a three kilometre round trip walk. The NCA will only improve the site itself if it's made more accessible."
After 80 years, the definitive reasons for the crash continue to elude. If the fog of war clouded things then, now the passage of time seems to have done the same, awareness of the impact of the disaster fading like the very sign that points to it.
On Aug 13, 2020 at 11am, I held a tribute for the 80th anniversary at the Memorial site inside the Fairbairn Pine Plantation. We were joined by descendants of the 10 victims - for me, a particularly emotional moment in being able to speak with them about its impact - and the Australian Federation Guard from ADFA, who mounted a catafalque party, the first time in 60 years this had occurred there, when Sir Robert Menzies unveiled the stone monument in 1960.
A livestream of the tribute at the Memorial to mark the 80th anniversary August 13, 2020. Produced by Nick Overall.
Once a regular haunt for teenagers, it's also claimed as one of Canberra's “most haunted” - from temperature fluctuations to cars stalling and the apparition of a woman. Historically, it is linked with other less explored events, and that's a tale for another day.
For more on the unsolved, unexplained and unknown in the orbit of the Australian Capital, also see my capitalcrimefiles.com.au website which has features my new podcast.
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