I don't recall how many shifts I did with the winter wind stuck in the West, and the truck in 27 position. But everything changes in time, and the morning came when the order came:
"Shut down and change ends". Of course, it was a matter-of-course for everyone except me. But there has to be a first time for everything, hasn't there ?
It seems there was a "book time" (40 mins) for the whole job. But this morning it would take rather longer, I must now admit that it was All my Fault (but I shall not tell you what I did wrong for the moment, so as not to spoil the surprise).
Now the others swung into a well-oiled routine. The HT was run down (but the LT - mains voltage from the Generator Truck - kept on to keep the equipment heaters going (Radar is very temperature-sensitive). The (hydraulic) jacks were retracted to put the Truck back on its wheels. Tyres were kicked. Now the Search Aerial leaned drunkenly, 4°out of plumb, but still turning.
In the Workshop Truck, jobs in progess and tools were secured. The Rest Caravan hoisted the Calor Gas tank inboard, all crockery was stowed, the steps pushed inside, the power connection to the Truck was unplugged, handbrake 'off' and the door shut.
At last we got our clearance to move from Local, and their squawk box (the last) intercom plug lead was pulled out, earthing spikes drawn up, everyone who hadn't got a bike climbed in (except Chiefy, who would drive the Bedford, and I) and they pulled up the steps into the truck behind them.
"Handbrake's off, Sir - take it away !"
Old habits die hard. To this day, I do a walk-around the car before I first climb in. After doing so here, I climbed the North Face of the Eiger up into the "Matador" cab. Nowadays H&S would demand that I had a HGV licence, but then nobody bothered. During the war, out East, no one even cared whether you had any kind of licence at all - if it had wheels and would move, you drove it.
There was no "Matador" driving instruction at Shawbury. I looked round the spacious cab for the first time. It seemed an enormous distance from the ground. Everything was on a gargantuan scale, hand brake and gear lever almost the size of the ones in a railway signal box. Pedals bigger than a Landrover. Now IIRC, I had to switch on a Glow Plug or something, then nervously pressed the starter button.
I was unprepared for the racket that broke out - for the engine was virtually inside the middle of the cab by my side. A huge cloud of black smoke enveloped us. Local Controller was watching for this, and gave me a green Aldis. Handbrake off, graunch into bottom gear, let clutch in with infinite care. To my surprise, it took up the drive quite smoothly.
(Now the Strubby map will come in handy). I'm heading away from the runway, with a hundred yards or so to go to the taxiway. I double-declutch ponderously up through the box. That's unknown now, but then we all had to do it, for the old bangers we drove only had crash boxes - for whatever sychromesh they ever had was long gone.
Take it right across taxiway and lock over hard left. Now I'm up into top gear, about 15mph, and surprised how easy it is. The whole majestic cavalcade comes in line astern, "pennants flying and drums beating" (so to speak) along the centre of the taxiway as I set out on the mile long haul right round to the 09 threshold. Then I'll turn left onto the runway, run down it for some 300 yards to my access track, turn right into it and halt 20-30 yards short of my new position.
The chaps will bale out of the Truck and the bikes catch up. Now I must creep on with extreme care, for the Truck behind me must finish up exactly aligned with the markings and within an inch or two of the correct point under the centre of the azimuth waveguide. But I have plenty of eager guidance: Chiefy (who has hopped out of his cab) and the crew are all:
"Left hand down a bit, sir - back a bit - right hand down now - just a bit more - Whoa !! "
(If I get it really wrong, then I'd have to go out forward onto the North taxiway. right round back to the runway, down it, turn into the track and try again).
Ideally, that's what
should have happened (without a go-around, of course). As it was, I trundled past the Tower and a little way further on (almost to exactly the spot where Ahmed had flamed-out).
And then the same happened to me ! And the worst of it was, I knew
why !
As I've already demonstrated, it's one of my unfortunate traits that I have a yen for Putting Things Right (in the supermarket, I'm always the one who picks up the packet that someone else has carelessly knocked down, and puts it back on the shelf). What had I done now ?
On my walk-round, I'd come past the big cylindrical fuel tank hung on the offside chassis. On it, a two-way tap said "Main-Reserve", it was set to "Reserve". I knew this arrangement well: I'd had exactly the same in my old "Bond". (On "main", you draw fuel from a short standpipe which gives you (say) 3/4 of the fuel, "Reserve" is the last 1/4, drawn from the bottom of the tank - which is where all the condensed water, rust and gunge collects). This I knew from bitter experience; for that reason, you should
never run on "Reserve" unless you absolutely
have to.
"Tsk,tsk!", I thought.
That shouldn't be. Of course the tank must have plenty of fuel in it ! Why would it not ? There's plenty of Derv sloshing round all the time ! (
and the gauge in the cab said 1/2 full, anyway)......... I put he tap back to "main"..........so here I'm stuck in the middle of the taxiway where no aircraft can get past me.
What now ?
This is much too long already. Will Danny escape with reputation intact ? (Wait for the next thrilling number !)
Goodnight, all, Danny42C.
If it ain't broke, don't fix it