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Aviation History
1934
1934 - 1326.PDF
1330 FLIGHT. DECEMBER 13, 1934. not many years old—but what a change from the huts 1 remember at Calafrana during the War! the seaplane base nearby, and decided to make another We had a long talk with the met. officer at Calafrana, try after lunch. However, it wasn't any good, and we only got about sixty-five miles that time. Getting back again wasn't as easy as it might have been ; the Goudime calculator was of enormous help, but our main trouble was, naturally, the wind. Had we flown at a few hundred feet it would have been easy to judge our drift, but at 5,000 feet, which we maintained for the sake of safety in case an engine packed up, it was largely a matter of guessing. For work of this kind we ought to have had a drift sight, but as it was I had to estimate the drift, from my knowledge of what the wind usually does at various heights and what our weather reports said it might be doing. Not a perfect method, but it worked, and, despite rotten visibility, we found the island without any difficulty. That night we decided that we couldn't afford to lose any more time at all, and that we really had to get down to it if we were going to get to Baghdad in time. We re- newed our acquaintance with the Union Club and met many old friends, but, what was most important, made arrangements to get weather reports from Tripoli as early as possible ; so we left the comfort of the Great Britain Hotel early and got to Hal Far by 9 a.m. next day. I must say a word about the helpfulness of everyone at the aerodrome. The duty officers and airmen did all they could to help us, the customs official came out quite soon, although he has to be sent for, and the Shell agent brought his lorry up in reasonable time. The fees are the standard Air Ministry charges—12s. 6d. landing fee and 4s. for housing. Hal Far is not very large, and, as it was fairly hot, we took off "by numbers," but without any difficulty. Soon Malta had faded into the blue of the Mediterranean behind us and we had settled down more comfortably, because the weather really did look like giving us a " break" this time. We got a good check on the island of Lampedusa because the visibility was so good that we saw it a hundred miles away on our starboard side. So, having flown through two and a half hours' of sunshine, and after numerous false alarms, we did at last see the African coast. Even Gatrell, whose confidence in his engines let him sleep most of the time, woke up and began to take an interest in things. I had made a small correction to our course when we were about half way over, as it seemed that the wind was carrying us more to the west than I had allowed for; had I not made this we should have hit Tripoli dead ahead, but, as it was, we arrived about five miles to the east. Arrival in Africa Our reception there was great. It was our first taste of Italian efficiency outside Italy and we found it good. They get things done quietly and quickly without 30 much arm-raising as in Europe, and are much more interested in you personally. You have the advantage, too, that you have just come from their native land, and no Italian seems to like being away from it; so he is kindly to you and wants to know what you think of the state of the country and the improvements Mussolini has made. They are nothing if not patriotic. We still had our cameras sealed as, against our real desires, we had not opened them in Malta because we did not want to risk delays on arriving at Italian territory again. The Shell manager was waiting, as we had cabled from Malta and the Commandant had been warned of our coming by his Air Ministry—General Balbo had hoped to see us the day before this but had been unable to wait until our arrival—and the customs clearance people were aLl waiting to help us through quickly. Here Jones took on the job of keeping us supplied with food, so he bought a good supply to give us our midday meal in the air and thus avoid wasting time for it on the ground. He looked after that essential provision for the rest of the trip and always produced something whenever anyone was hungry. The aerodrome is a little bit tricky and inclined to be very soft after rain. There is plenty of room for landing along the longest run, but the other way is a bit short for a machine like ours. It is easy to find as there are great white pyramidal heaps of salt by an evaporation plant on the east side. Bad patches are usually marked with red flags. One innovation which gladdened our hearts—or at least that of Mackinnon—was the absence of landing fees or other charges throughout Libia. At no Italian North African aerodrome did we have to pay anything. After a stay of only forty-five minutes we were ready to go, so off we went to Sirte, about 240 miles further east. Our A.A. directions said that this was not a recommended place for stopping the night as there was no accommo- dation, but we felt that we must risk that in order to make up some lost time. There was nowhere else we could stay between there and Tripoli, so Sirte it had to be. I have not referred to the A.A. before—a rather serious omission, because, without their help (or at least the help from the touring organisation in which they and the Royal Aero Club collaborate) a trip like this would be a very much more difficult undertaking. They supply maps of the route in strip form and provide the latest information about everything, but, although they are so good, they were not quite up to date about Sirte. Our fears that the members of the party who had never yet been east of Marseilles were going to get their first taste of bugs and many other kinds of insects in some Arab cafe that night proved un- founded. The Italian authorities are pouring money into this part of Africa, and we had our first evidence of it at Sirte. There they have recently erected a small municipal hotel, the Albergo Municipal, right on the side of the desert aerodrome. A Desert Aerodrome From Tripoli to Sirte is not quite so uninteresting as the desert can be, but very nearly. We flew a direct course, which led us down the coast to where it bends south by Misrata, and then took us straight across a large chunk of the Bay of Sirte, so we didn't really see much desert; however, there was plenty more to come. Sirte Aerodrome, our first landing ground which was simply a flattened portion of the desert, was a real pleasure to land on after those European ones which are sur- rounded by high trees and buildings. It is well equipped with wireless, and the operator talks English. He is extremely helpful and very keen to be of any assistance he can to pilots who, like ourselves, were not very strong on the Italian language. The hotel is quite well appointed, and, like most Continental hotels—for it is run by an Italian— can produce good meals at very short notice. This being our first night stop in the desert—and, for that matter, the first time that most of the party had seen the desert at close quarters—we went for a walk round the village before our supper was ready. As in most Arab villages, the low, white houses, mostly consisting of only one or two rooms, are close up against each other and filled to their capacity with a varied collection of old men, young boys with rickety-looking legs, and old women. Young men and women are seldom to be seen in these villages. The houses are mostly of white-washed mud, with flat tops; and the roads, such as they are, run right up to the outer walls, so that the doors open straight out on to them. Sirte, being an Italian Air Force station, boasts of several large, well-kept, and comfortable-looking build- ings which house the officers and men, and from the air it looks quite important. A closer inspection shows that little of real interest exists in the village, which does only a very small trade with the interior. As at most desert aerodromes dogs abound, and every Italian officer through- out this part of the world seems to keep one of a different breed; the result is far more amusing than the proverbial fifty-seven varieties of Mr. Heinz. .: To be continued next week.)
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