Air Safety Kyeema Air Disaster’s 55th Anniversary

“Just where on Mt Dandenong did the Kyeema crash?” The scene was the enquiry counter in the Department of Civil Aviation’s Air Safety Investigation Branch in Queen St, Melbourne. It was the mid 1970s and the question was asked by an interested member of the public.

His request was direct and simple. But the answer? Not a single officer in the Branch was able to help. An old prewar, hand written accident register recorded the fact that the accident had occurred “150 yards below the summit”. But which summit? The Dandenongs, 15 kilometres in extent from north to south, boast several prominent peaks. Nearly four decades is a long time. . . and those who would know had long since retired from the Department.

But the question set the staff of the Aviation Safety Digest -DCA’s then highly regarded pilot safety magazine-thinking. The sites of two earlier accidents of significance to Austral- ia’s aviation development – the Avro 10, VH-UMF Southern Cloud, in the Snowy Mountains, and the Stinson, VH-UHH City of Brisbane, in the MacPherson Ranges-were both well documented. Why shouldn’t the Kyeema crash, which had even greater repercussions, be similarly remembered? Obviously, the first priority was to positively relocate the accident site itself.

Unearthing the Kyeema’s records, normally the answer to such questions of accident detail, proved a disappointment. There were ponderous transcripts of the Inquiry proceedings, an account of the circumstances of the accident, a number of contemporary newspaper cuttings, but little in the way of actual locality data. A blueprinted sketch plan showed the distribution and compass bearings of the wreckage components on the slope of the mountainside, but they were not related to any definite landmark-only to the fact that it was “approx 175 yards to road”. But which road? The western face of Mt Dandenong covers a lot of ground.

A visit to the library of the Herald and Weekly Times bore more fruit. There were several press pictures of the accident, one of them taken from the air showing its location relative to Burke’s Lookout. Another taken of the smashed and burnt remains, looking back in the direction from which the DC-2 had come, gave a clear view of the trees amongst and around the wreckage – detail that could perhaps help us identify the site. There was also a locality map, showing the approximate spot where the Kyeema had crashed. It was clear now that “the road” was in fact Ridge Road, winding along the summit of the range from Kalorama to Olinda via Burke’s Lookout. We were getting a little warmer! With high hopes, and eager for an exciting discovery, Digest editorial staff Dick Maclean, Peter Mooney and my- self, accompanied by friends, family and press photographers hoping for a scoop, set out from Burke’s Lookout early one damp Saturday morning to comb the part of the mountain shown in the aerial photo, the second picture, we believed, should enable us to pinpoint the position once we had found the general area. It should not be too difficult. Even after nearly 40 years, there surely had to be something to show where a big all metal aeroplane had dashed itself to pieces and burnt. At least, that is what we thought.

How wrong can you be! In the first place, Burke’s Lookout, with its proliferation of television transmitters and masts, looked very different to what it did in 1938. It was hard to be sure we were in the right place; even the scrub appeared to have changed.

Secondly, we didn’t know if the forest itself had changed in 40 years. Were the same trees still standing? Or would they have been burnt by bushfires and replaced by new growth? Even if the trees were the same, trying to find the ones in the wreckage picture proved akin to looking for the proverbial needle. We split up, each of us exploring a mountain of different contour.

Rain added to our misery, as we scoured the side of the range for hours on end, expecting at any time to stumble on the corroded metallic remains of a prewar airliner. Wet and cold, our flagging spirits were raised late in the day with the exciting discovery that a country house, set well back in the forest from the western side of Ridge Road, actually bore the enigmatic name Kyeema! Obviously built before the memory of the disaster had faded, its occupants could not doubt help. But again our hopes were dashed – the owners proved to be comparatively new. All they could tell us, indicating towards the west, was that the crash had occurred “somewhere, down there. ” We finally called it a day, convinced we might do better when it was dry. And next time we would bring with us Les Ellis, a retired prewar DCA aircraft inspector and accident investigator whom we had managed to locate in Melbourne. He had actually worked on the Kyeema case, he told us.

Meanwhile, quite unknown to us, other developments were taking place. Inspired by a talk which a retired local government councillor and eye witness to the Kyeema accident, Mr Maurice Seymour, had recently given to the Mt Dandenong

Lackshed Stump of the Hap Blazing Liner District Plane Came Gerbil of Weecked

The “Kyeema” impact site itself, looking back in the direction of fight. The photograph was taken the morning after the accident. The curving tree branch lopped off by “Kyeema’s” starboard wing on the far left of the picture can still be identified today. (Herald and Weekly Times) Historical Society, the Forests Commission office at nearby Kallista had quite independently decided something should be done about the Kyeema site. They happened to contact DCA for information at the very time we were planning our next move. Their initiative put me in touch with helpful Kallista-based forester, Bill Fox.

Mutually delighted by our common interest, Bill Fox and I got together to try again, this time inviting the elderly Les Ellis to accompany us. This time we did better, Les being able to remember the general area and the critically important fact that a big tree stump lay close to the upper part of the main wreckage area. Well, there was a big stump which Les thought was the right one, and there, further down the slope, were two trees that could be those in the press picture.

They were certainly bigger than in the photo, but this was only to be expected though their relationship did not seem quite right. But time could have altered things, we told ourselves. Anyway, if this was not the exact site, it wasn’t far from it. It looked as if we were as close as we’d get.

But one thing bothered me. The steep, stone strewn mountainside showed no evidence of ever having been disturbed. Surely if an aircraft as big as a DC-2 had impacted and burnt to a cinder among these rocks, there would be some evidence of it.

“No,” declared Les Ellis. “Exposed all these years, the aluminium alloy would have corroded away. But if you dug around in the right place you might find something. ” We decided on yet another expedition, this time equipped for an exploratory dig and leaving nothing to supposition. With prismatic compass and steel tape we would cross check all the bearings and relationships on the wreckage blueprint – even the total distance back to Ridge Road, the plan’s one reference to the outside world.

For this third attempt, we were joined by Philip Evans, also of the Forests Commission. Thanks to the foresters’ experience, we were now certain of one thing – the bigger trees on this face of the mountain would have changed but little in 40 years. After accurately checking the detail of the wreckage’s distribution from the DCA blueprint and relating it to the position Les Ellis had identified, it was clear we were not in the right place. We were close-but the compass bearings and measured distances did not quite match up.

Going to the folder of accident documents we had brought with us, Philip Evans took the picture of the crash site, snapped 40 years before by a Herald and Weekly Times photographer, and walked on down the timbered mountainside for another 50 or so metres. Here he stood for several minutes, silently comparing the photo with the surrounding features. Then he waved to me to join him.

He indicated a tall tree in the extreme left of the picture. “See that?” He pointed down the mountain slope. “There it is. ” Sure enough, now that we were looking at it from the right angle, the tree itself was unmistakeable, one of its curved, jutting branches broken off as shown in the picture – undoubtedly by the Kyeema itself! With mounting excitement we checked all the bearings and measurements again. There, about 30 metres southwest of the stump Les Ellis had pointed out, was another big tree stump exactly the right distance from Ridge Road. And there, just the right distance and direction from the stump, was the blackened tree trunk that appeared near the centre of the picture with the burntout wreckage strewn around its base. The nearby straight standing tree for which we had earlier hunted in vain was not there. But lying on the ground was a straight tree trunk of the right diameter, its broken off stump in just the right position.

Philip picked up his mattock, walked to the base of the unearthed some shapeless pieces of something hard, en- blackened tree trunk and dug. Six inches below the surface he crusted in a bluish powder. “This stuff might prove interesting,” he said.

I took the material back to DCA’s metallurgical laboratory in Melbourne. Now that the bluish powder had been wiped off, it could have been anything.

“That’s just a piece of dirt,” said the metallurgist scornfully. But he clamped it in a vice and took a hacksaw to it. The saw teeth bit in smoothly. Moments later the piece was in two halves. We each picked up a piece and looked at the saw cut. It was metallic and shining. The “piece of dirt” was solidified, once molten aluminium alloy! With the crash site now positively identified, the Mt Dandenong Historical Society, in cooperation with the Forests Commission, took up the planning of an appropriate memorial to the Kyeema and its 18 occupants. But lest the proposed memorial’s concrete base seal forever the actual point of impact, it seemed right to first excavate the ground for any remaining relics. With the guidance of the Archaeological Society of Victoria, the area where the main wreckage had burnt to destruction was pegged out and a team from the Mt Dandenong Historical Society set to work to painstakingly sift through the surface soil.

A number of small fragments progressively came to light- more solidified molten metal, a piece of cabin window, windscreen glass, the outer case of a wrist watch, a remarkably intact and uncorroded piece of fuselage skin, small nuts and bolts, fragments of glass from the instrument panel, various pieces of shielded electrical cable and several seat springs. Nothing of vast significance, but enough pathetic evidence to prove beyond all doubt that this was the place-the right place for a monument to the Kyeema.

Some weeks later on October 25 1978 the 40th anniversary of the disaster itself – a memorial cairn of local stone erected by the Forests Commission, carrying a bronze plaque commissioned by the Mt Dandenong Historical Society and financed by families of the accident victims and the Australian Federation of Air Pilots, was dedicated and unveiled at a moving open air ceremony.

Families and descendents of those who died in the accident, a number of whom had come especially from Adelaide were well represented amongst the crowd of about 200. The dedication was performed by the Rev Stephen Coggin of St Michael’s Church, Mt Dandenong, and the plaque unveiled by Mrs Sybil Gramp, a granddaughter of Mrs Elizabeth Schrader who died in the crash and member of the family wine growing firm of G Cramp & Sons, whose managing director, Mr Hugo Gramp, was also one of the victims.

Today there is no longer any mystery as to where the Kyeema and its 18 hapless occupants met their sudden fiery end in 1938. A signpost on Ridge Road indicates the short forest track that leads to the memorial, and Melway’s Directory of Greater Melbourne marks the spot for all to see.

There is good reason to remember the Kyeema – and not only for the historic decisions that followed its Inquiry and the weaknesses it revealed in the aviation administration of the time.

Today, a quarter of a century removed from Australia’s last major airline disaster in 1968 (a period that has been accident free because of what previous costly experience showed to be necessary), and a time of much questioning as to the future structure of Australia’s airways system, the Kyeema memo- rial stands as a witness to the truth that the lessons of history are forgotten at our peril. + Footnote: The full story of the Kyeema accident and its seminal importance to Australia’s civil aviation development is told in Macarthur Job’s recent book, Air Crash, Volume I, available from Australian Aviation.