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Aviation History
1952
1952 - 1645.PDF
a distance as to be able to glide to land in the eventuality of a breakdown. Tripoli and its gardens were 7/8ths overcast with cumulus. We passed under the layer to find the base at only 6ooft; it was hot and extremely bumpy. We wanted to land at Wheelus, which is close to the city, but this field was reserved for the U.S.A.F. as a Shooting Star base and we were directed by QDM to Castel Benito, an airport controlled by the R.A.F., as were all the airfields in Libya and as far as Egypt. Tripolitania was at that time still under U.N. trusteeship, with Great Britain as overseer. Flying control being in the hands of the British, everything went smoothly—until we were presented with the bill for landing fees, which were to be paid in "M.A.L.," the only currency in use, while money exchange was practically unknown. Eventually, we thought we had worked out an arrange ment, but at this writing we are still in correspondence over the matter. Furthermore, the Arab Customs officials speak an incredible mixture of Arabic, Italian and English, which didn't simplify things. We were billeted at the R.A.F. camp. They fed us, too: preserved eggs, one apiece; slices of Spam, one apiece; and chips fried in what seemed to be freshly drained crankcase oil. Break fast : ditto. Back at the field by motor cycle before dawn, we changed the oil of the aircraft by flashlight. By the time we took off, the air was already torrid and turbulent, but the cumulus layer of yesterday was down to 5/8ths. We passed over it, but were able to keep in sight of the Rommel Road, to which we wanted to stick faithfully nearly to Alexandria. The immense uselessness of the Libyan desert is strewn with ancient and modem left-overs of man and nature. The only airfields to be found are along the Rommel Road, although most of them are completely abandoned; further more, a pilot's only chance of being found is to have his accident near enough the road to be spotted by the bi-weekly truck that passes over it. A forced landing far from the road would make the job of the R.A.F. search and rescue very difficult. We had to land in a 30 kt cross-wind at Marble Arch—only refuelling station between Tripoli and Bengazi—among the mounds of sand on the asphalt of the runway. Around the arch of triumph, under which goes the road and on which the Duce in bas relief points his finger toward Alexandria, three Arabs and a donkey dwelt in a heap of junk. All four brought us the gasoline we needed. Apparently the R.A.F. cook at Tripoli had flown our lunch on ahead of us. In Bengazi-Benina we downed the eggs, the Spam and the chips with courage befitting cross-desert adventurers. Scarcely 45 minutes out, I noticed the fuel gauge to be indicating the main tank as half empty. There was no mystery about it; the (Above) A doudscape over Alexandria. (Top, left) The Nile in the desert near Cairo. (Left) The Navion arouses native interest at a later stage in the trip. cap was dangling in space by its chain and air suction was syphon ing out the fuel greedily. Laurent made a heroic but futile effort to reach and rescrew the cap, but to succeed we'd had to open the cockpit dangerously wide. Turning 180 degrees we headed back to Benina, replaced the lost fuel and made doubly sure the cap was on tight. Up again, our plan of sleeping in Alexandria that night was two hours out of the question. We had solemnly ruled out night flying for the obvious reason that the most adequate emergency-landing field cannot easily be found in the dark; and with only one engine you never can tell when you might need one. At dusk we were flying over the ship graveyard of Tobruk, which itself consists of six or seven hovels and not so much as a drop of fresh water. The wind over El Adem, isolated airfield in the heart of the desert, was sand-filled and we landed with minimum visibility. It was an R.A.F. dinner; enough said. If we have something less than admiration for R.A.F. cooking, we have the highest respect for the rest of the outfit. Take this as an example. We were due for a 30-hour check on arrival, and a mechanic there offered to do the job despite the fact that none of the special Navion tools was available. It took him not less than five hours to dismantle the oil and gas filters but he did everything with aimiable willingness. To bed at one and up at four; our nap was not only short, but glacially cold. Breakfast was as expected, and we got off at dawn. As soon as the sun was up it was exactly as if a switch had been turned from cold to hot; it was suffocating even at 7,500ft. The Nile delta approach to Cairo was a green and refreshing surprise to the eyes after the days we had spent over desert. We came down under enormous cumulus. The inside of the cabin was like a steam bath. It was so bumpy that we discovered later that the knocking-about we had taken under our safety-belts had left our hips black and blue. We could not establish R/T. contact with Almaza tower and circled it three times. Landing finally, we discovered to our relief that it was their equipment which was out of order and not ours. We had been notified by phone in Paris before leaving that our application for a landing permit for Egypt had been accepted. No particular field was designated, but on putting down at Almaza, we learned that we should have landed at Farouk. We were in considerable trouble. While we had lunch our case was reviewed and it was decided that we could go free provided we left the country within twenty-four hours of our arrival (seven of which had already been taken by formalities). As soon as they let us we got on our way, flew over Heliopolis and as close as allowed to the Great Pyramid, the Sphinx and the Royal Palace. Through the burning air of little buoyancy the Navion laboured to gain height, the windshield gradually becoming opaque under the grease thrown from the constant-speed mechanism of the airscrew. Finally we were able only to see sideways, and at Luxor, where the setting sun was in the axis of the runway, I had to land by watching the ground behind the wing. We were tourists on Friday and visited the temples of Karnak and Thebes, some mosques, and some tombs in the Valley of Kings on the other side of the Nile. This rubber-necking over extended our time limit in Egypt, and before leaving on Saturday
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