G-AXXD joins the river police
I don’t remember the date – August 73 or 74, but Ted Heath certainly arrived at Battersea while we were sloshing about in the mud – but he left office in March 1974, so...
Whatever the date, it was a warm and calm summer morning. The aircraft was a H269A – the type with lollysticks for tail rotor blades. The police comms gear in those days was about half the size of a tea chest and looked heavy. There were only a few policemen in the observers job, and this morning they definitely sent the largest they had.
Battersea in those days was about half its present size. This often meant that there was a certain amount of overflying of parked aircraft. That morning the police aircraft had to lift itself, a pilot, full fuel, a large policeman and all that radio gear over a parked 206. All on that warm and calm morning.
I was able to watch the ensuing drama from a safe distance – the poor little 269 wound itself up into a frenzy of noise and leapt into the air, clearing the 206 by plenty. Then came the sorry sound of engine and rotor rpm slowing down. Yawing and descending it disappeared from view towards the river bed – some 15 feet lower than the platform, shortly followed by silence and what looked like a couple of bucketfuls of water thrown up in the air like you see on comedy sketch shows.
The crash alarm went off, but we were already running. When we peered over the edge there was the aircraft sitting upright if a little lopsided in about a foot of water and another foot or so of soft mud (fortunately, the tide was on its way out, at high tide it would have been under at least ten feet of water). The main rotor was coasting to a stop, the tail rotor looking like half a swastika and the tail rotor driveshaft like a corkscrew.
The pilot had his door held open with his foot, and a faraway look in his eyes, the policeman had put his head through the canopy behind him, only injuring the plastic as far as I remember.
In no time we were joined by the Fire Brigade and a couple of ambulances. The Fire Chief checked that we had disconnected the battery, and - incredibly - instructed us to open the fuel drains and let just about a full fuel load go into the Thames. This not only astonished us, but the thought of all that lovely 100/130 going to waste was almost too much to bear.
While we were watching the river turning green, one of his guys came down and asked him “Chief, who taught that Ladder driver to drive? He’s just backed into my pump - smashed the windscreen, and the dashboard is on the seats”.
Round about this time Mr Heath arrived on the H in a Wessex – I remembered it as a red QF one, but it may well have been a Green Parrot – anyway, his trademark toothy grin did look a bit forced.
That's how I remember it..
Last edited by TRC; 14th Nov 2012 at 20:48.