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Aviation History
1961
1961 - 0218.PDF
218 FLIGHT, 17 February 1961 Malaya to Middle Wallop . . . Doha, a quick refuel, and on to Bahrein for a break of a fewdays to rest and look to the machine. Concern was being caused by the failure of the starboard tyre which first started to lose bitsof tread on the wartime steel-plank runways in Burma. Now the effect of the sand was tearing the tread right off and great holesappeared in the tread through to the cords. No spares were avail- able, but the RAF helped out with the aid of a "dough" gun whichat least sealed up the holes, although the thing still looked vaguely like a catherine-wheel. The rest of the maintenance consisted ofthe usual plug-clean, filter-clean and going through the routine which had cured the misfiring troubles. After a very pleasant twodays looking around this rich oil sheikhdom we once more set off, this time for Kuwait, where we stayed the night with Col andMrs Pierce. Before we left the next morning Col Pierce kindly insisted thatwe should have a good breakfast, and we certainly did. We did not, at the time, appreciate his remark that we didn't know whenwe would next eat. We had been warned that the health authorities in Iraq weregoing to make things difficult for us, and so our plan to spend five days in the country was amended. We flew direct fromKuwait to Baghdad; a simple flight but made a little difficult by the amount of sand and dust in the air, which cut visibility tohalf-a-mileand caused us to miss our turning point at AlDiwaniyah. However, we turned on time only and relied on the sighting of thevee formed by the Tigris River and the State Railway to funnel us into Baghdad. The atmosphere on landing at Baghdad was immediatelyominous. The only people about were soldiers armed to the teeth, who looked idly at us. We switched off and climbed out but stillno one came near, and so we walked over to the passenger waiting room. It was empty except for three soldiers in rough greenuniform sitting at a long table. The middle one appeared to be an officer so I walked up and announced ourselves. We waitedfor fully three minutes whilst this worthy finished picking his teeth, and then he suddenly shouted, at a distance of only two feet,"I think you have no permission—why have you come?" In vain we showed him our official clearance, but all it broughtwas further cries of "I think you have no permission." We tried politeness but that got us nowhere and then I lost my temperand shouted. That did it. The officer leapt to his feet and we were marched off to an inner room. I decided that it was time to get in touch with the BritishEmbassy, as the vision of 15 years in an Iraqi jail was appearing. As a result of this call, the Air Attache, Wg Cdr Horsley, appearedvery quickly. This produced results, inasmuch as the "no permis- sion" man gave up his monologue and a health man took hisplace. It transpired that we had come from a cholera area and that we were to be put up in a local hospital for five days'quarantine. International certificates of vaccination were of no use: showing them produced only a shake of the head and "Fivedays." Take off—or Else We were bundled into a vehicle and driven off at speed throughthe city to the hospital. We were getting desperate by this time but a certain transaction with the vehicle driver produced a prom-ise to be back outside the hospital at 0630 the next morning. I heard for the first time in a foreign language the equivalent of thatBritish Army guardroom phrase "Two live bodies sign here." We were the bodies. We settled down to a most uncomfortable night. At 0630 we were up and peering through the window for ourdriver and, good man, he turned up only 15 minutes late with a release note. Our arrival at the airport caused some concern,but we hastily filed a flight plan, smiled at everyone, shook hands with anyone with a disengaged right hand, raced over to theaircraft, dragged it out and were airborne. It was one of those times when it did not take two hours. But our troubles were notover, for we could not make Amman, Jordan, in one hop, and we had to go to T.I on the "T" pipeline to refuel. Here the fuelreally let us down, as no 73-octane appeared (it was due to arrive three days later) and only 100 was available. To add to that, theofficials of the airfield told us that we must leave the country immediately or return to Baghdad for a further five days. There was no alternative, so we took on 100-octane fuel. Thethought of the de Havilland warning letter of burning valve seats was seared into my brain for the next four hours. The met fore-cast also did not help, and indicated a headwind of 15kt, i.e., we did not have the range for the leg. Ina's dual stick was taken outand a four-gallon "flimsy" of fuel was carried between her knees. Our plot was to land in the desert and top-up. Our first leg was 265 n.m. from T.I to H.5: no pipeline tofollow, just a straight flight over the open desert. We took off and simply steered the track, for experience had told me that the metwas bound to be wrong. No check-point for drift or ground speed; rTtl*vlvl "No check-point for drift or ground speed; the map consisted of . . . buff-coloured paper . . ." the map consisted of a piece of buff-coloured paper with twocontours on it, but no hills were visible on the ground. For 3j hours we droned on and on over the miles of flat sand.Staring at the map and then peering out over the nose still produced no sign of H.5 and the road that ran through it. Thecompass looked a bit odd, and it needed a few minutes to realize that the wires on the grid ring had suddenly buckled into a peculiarS-pattern. Keeping the cord lined up now presented about twenty combinations (I assumed later that the heat must havemade the wires expand). Suddenly my wife saw the H.5 pumping station. The dust being raised by a truck showed it up, and weproved to be just one mile right of track. Our groundspeed check indicated a tailwind again. Only 50-odd n.m. from here to Amman,and we did it comfortably without having to resort to our extra bit of fuel. We now had some time to spare, and took a break of five daysin sightseeing and visiting Jerusalem. We noted, incidentally, that Roman remains are so numerous in Jordan that they are used asdoor-stops. Praise must be given for the hospitality and help given us by the Jordan Air Force, who helped us with the aircraftmaintenance and also took in hand our radio, which was never any good and hadn't been working since Sharjah. They reallyattacked it, and from that day on it really worked. It is now the only set of its type that has a range of eighty miles. And so on to Cairo, although we were very sad to leave Jordan.Our route lay via Aqaba, to avoid flying over Israel and being unable to land in Egypt. Up to Mersa Matruh, seeing the battlesof the Western desert unfold, although (apart from numerous old airstrips) nothing is visible today. On into El Adem, where thefirst mishap occurred—the tailwheel broke off. Luck was really with us for just next to us was a Canberra taking off for Idris(Tripoli). I remembered that the Army Air Corps used to have a Flight stationed at Idris, so I asked the pilot if he could scoutaround for a new tail-spring and stick it on any aircraft coming back within the next few days. At 10 a.m. next morning I washolding a new tail-spring! We stayed at El Adem for two days while I fitted the springand got on with other maintenance jobs. We then left for the final part of the trip to Berka No 2 near Benghazi, where theUS Army have an aviation unit. Along the coast to Marble Arch, the airfield now closed but with fuel available at TAC.3, a levelpiece of sand near a US coastguard station. Then to Misurata, where the fuel failed to turn up again, and Idris, where ourstarboard tyre finally collapsed. Fortunately we were able to obtain another tyre, and then weflew on to Tunis and over the sea to Cagliari—to arrive in the middle of an air display by the Italian Air Force. No one seemedto mind, and we received a great welcome and were treated to a very fine display of formation aerobatics by Thunderjets. Finallyto France, the last foreign country and the European weather. At Dijon, we had a daily trip to the airfield to see if the fogwould lift, which it did not for three days. Whilst at Lyons we were treated to one of those sights thatgladden the hearts of private pilots, and are guaranteed to give the Ministry of Aviation palpitations and a lunge to the restrictionsrule book. Five light aircraft busy bashing the circuit, using the grass to the side of the runway, whilst a Caravelle and two Breguetairliners took off. No one turned a hair, no one was held up, and it was all perfectly safe. Light aircraft appear to be understood in that country. Whenwe arrived in the circuit at Le Bourget, we were cleared No 2 behind a Viscount and in front of a Caravelle and Constellation,and no one took the slightest notice. I wonder what London Airport's answer to that one is? A gay weekend in Paris and then a run over the Channel toEngland, and to our first taste of British landing fees. Three days at Le Bourget in a heated hangar, price six shillings. Onenight stop at Lydd, £1 2s. Ah well, home sweet home to Middle Wallop and the Army Air Corps.
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