From Freight to Self propelled Cargo
During the summer months of 1954, Sabena operated a service from Knokke/Le Zoute on the Belgian coast border with Holland and from there, via Ostend , to London. This service was called the "littoral" (the coast) and was very popular with the Freight Captains as it meant a very nice week spent at the very popular and "chic" resort of Le Zoute and a welcome change from flying pigeons and pigs.
The service was nearly always full with the 25 passengers that the D.C.3 was capable of carrying and especially the return to London when the homeward bound pax would stock up with the "Duty Free" that was sold on board. Once, whilst on this route, I found the trim of the aircraft very strange so went back to investigate. I found that the enterprising sole stewardess had set up a counter on a box in the aisle and was doling out the goodies from the packing cases behind her to the queue of passengers who stretched down the aisle to the tail. Thus saving her from going seat by seat and then back with the sale.
One day I was in London Airport, waiting for the aeroplane to be ready for the turnaround to go to Ostend . I walked into the Sabena office and a lady staff member said "You are Captain L... , aren't you ?"
When I replied "Yes." she said "Well I am the Station Manager's secretary and we had more than 1200 applicants for the thirty Pilots' jobs that were vacant. Do you remember getting a letter , when you applied for the job, telling you to come for an interview and you replied that you were working during the week and would not ask your employer for time off to apply for another job ?". "Yes". I replied. " Well we were snowed under with applicants and our Manager, Mr. S..... said "That's one less." and threw your letter in the wastepaper basket. I thought that it was a shameful way to treat your honest reply so, when he had gone home, I retrieved it, phoned you myself and arranged the interview for Saturday morning." I was speechless and have often thought how that kind action had changed so many lives. It is impossible to imagine how our children, grand and great grandchildren and so many other lives , would have been affected so I thanked her profusely and put it down to fate.
We had, by now, purchased a car. It was a second hand Studebaker in beautiful condition and was a constant source of enjoyment to our small family. The kids loved it because they said that you could never tell whether it was coming or going. The front looked exactly like the tail. We bought a big tent and enjoyed the beautiful, long stretching, firm sands of the Belgian coast. One of our most memorable holidays was at La Panne where we actually went to a "Pension" and had one of the loveliest summer holidays that still remains in my memory; the sun shone as if we were in the South of France, the children were small enough to only have small problems and Dora was released from the kitchen for the first time in our married life. We were very happy. I was now a fully fledged Captain flying the finest propellor air liner that I ever flew, The Convair 240. The cockpit was the nearest thing to a Fighter Pilot's dream and the aircraft handled like a Spitfire. I was flying on the European sector with very few nights away from home and it came as no surprise when Dora told me, in the early autumn of 1955 , that she was pregnant. In June 1956 , Dora went into a very nice Nursing Home in the nearby Flemish district of Brussels, Schaerbeek. I would come home from visiting her and the three children would rush to meet me from school and would shout "Has it come ? ". On June the 8th. 1956 they were all thrilled when I was able to tell them that they had a new baby sister. When I took them to see her , the little Flemish nurse brought the baby in and said "Voila votre "Fillke"", giving the usual Flemish diminutive of "ke" to "Fille" making it "little girl" in the Bruxelloise argot. We had decided to call the baby Helen, and I was actually at the counter of the registry Office , completing the form when the Clerk gave me the phone and said "Your Wife wants to speak to you. " Dora had changed her mind and wanted the name Susan, so Susan it was. Not that she was ever called that. No. The name "Fillke" stuck and although we anglicised the spelling to "Feeka", she is still called Feeka to this day. There was a brief spell much, much later ,when meeting her from school she would whisper vehemently "Call me Suzanne ". but that did not last very long.
The house at Evere was now too small so we moved to the leafy district of Woluwe. St. Pierre. We had found a fairly big house at No 2 Ave. de l'Escrime. It had four big bedrooms , a nice small garden and was near a very good school and the small village of Stockel with it's shops and weekly market. It was less than the requisite 30 minutes by car from the Airport at Melsbroeck. If you could'nt get to the airport in that time then you had to do all your "Reserves" at the Airport in uniform and ready to go anywhere in Europe. This was quite a nuisance as you were "En Reserve" at least twice a week so that meant that you could stay at home and await their usually inevitable call. Incidentally, as a matter of interest when I first met the charming Widow , of a "certain age", as the French so tactfully put it, owner of the house that we had rented, she had asked me if I wanted to enter into an agreement called a "Rente Viagaire". This is a sort of life annuity where you pay a much lower rent to a Landlord/lady but must pay it until his/her death when you would then become the houseowner. I had never heard of this before but evidently it was quite common in Belgium and France. I refused politely as it was not my intention to stay too long before building my own property. As far as I know she is still alive !
The Studebaker had done it's job well but we were now more affluent and bought our very first brand new car, a gleaming Opel, appropriately entitled "Kapitan".
Our new house stood on the corner of the street and the house on the opposite corner belonged to one of the Directors of Sabena. One evening there was a ring on the doorbell and the Sabena Director stood there, Could he please phone his house as he had forgotten his keys ? His Wife was very deaf and could not hear the doorbell ? She had probably gone to bed as she didn't hear the phone either. (this was long before the day of the mobile ). Eventually, our eldest son, Peter, who had gone up to his room, came down and said "I can let you in." He crossed the road, shinned up a drainpipe,went in through a half open window and let the flabbergasted Director in through the front door. "The Maid's room" said Peter, conversationally. On this note...to be continued. Regle