Genis , Michael Christiaan De Graaf (M C D G)

An Error of Judgement From Fields of Air by James Byrom When things are going well it is all too easy to become overconfident and not give proper attention to one's duties . I Ching (BC 1150) It was a Wednesday that will live in my memory all my days. 26 May 1971. I was chief sub-editor of the Natal Mercury in Durban, responsible for getting the paper ready for the press. I arrived at work to learn that three military jets had crashed into Table Mountain. Eleven senior officers of the South African Air Force had been killed. It was undoubtedly the worst multi-aircraft disaster in the peacetime aviation history of South Africa. I was told to stand by for stories and photographs from the Cape Times. Those were the days before computers and desk top publishing and scanning of pictures. The type had to be set in lead -hot-type we called it- and the photographs, or blocks, were etched with acid into metal. They were processes that took time, so deadlines had to be strictly adhered to if the first editions were to catch trains and connections for country distribution. We had a few minutes' latitude with the second edition, which was for street sale and surburban deliveries, but the first edition had to be off my desk by midnight. As the evening wore on we got the early pages out of the way and began the front page after eleven o'clock. The reporters of the Cape Times were thoroughly professional, and the telex machines had rattled furiously all evening as their stories came over the wires. But there was a delay with the photographs. The later it got, the more anxious I became. I could not hold back the front page, so making up went ahead, with a large space left on the page for a picture. Several telephone calls were made to Cape Town to find out when the pictures would be coming through, but all I got were assurances that they would be sent as soon as they had been cleared by the authorities. As the landline pictures still had to be developed after they had been received, a messenger was standing by in the receiving room to run the canisters to the photographic department, where darkroom assistants were also waiting. As the clock ticked rentlessly towards midnight, my anxieties grew. Fifteen minutes to go...ten minutes...five minutes...Even if the landline machines began receiving now, the picture that was being run would not be received in t