Another one #4
The French trip
We land at a French Naval air station populated with Breguet Atlantique and Breguet Alize aircraft. Following ATC instructions, we taxy along a tree-lined taxyway watching our wingtips with great care as the trees don't look far enough away. Eventually, we are confronted by a marshaller. He brings us forward, stops us...and then gives the marshalling signal for...reverse. After a team laugh, the Crew Chief de-planes and has the most animated, hand-waving, same-words-with-raised-voice conversation with the marshaller. Crew Chief climbs back on board and advised the front end that the locals would like us to park in the very nice and pretty, tree-surrounded pan just to our right. The captain, the venerable and larger-than-life B###s H####n, decides he can manoeuvre us around and in. Most of us disagree, but as he outranks everyone else on board, round we go. The French welcoming committee is enlarging by the second, perhaps because none of them have ever seen a Shackleton before, or maybe waiting for les Anglaise to muck it up.
The Boss does an excellent job of getting us into the pan, but as we are now facing the wrong way, he does his best to swing us round the right way. Due to the closely bordering trees, we stop after loosing three static wicks, oh, and the wildly cross-arms waving of the Crew Chief. I hand down the undercarriage locks and climb down the ladder...to see the starboard mainwheel visably sinking into the Tarmac.
Without a moments pause, I climb on board and accost the boss. "Look Boss, the aircraft is sinking into the Tarmac. You speak fluent French! I need a tractor and towing arm RIGHT NOW". With all due credit, the Boss recovers from the shock of my rather forceful interruption, meets the head French fish head and requests tractor and towing arm and points to the disappearing mainwheel. The French are now embarrassed hosts, and with great rapidity organise both.
As most of us know, France wasn't part of NATO. When the combo turn up, the only available towing arm is for an Atlantique. Lightweight aluminium, short, and non-compatable with our home-grown NATO-compatable axle pin which slots through the middle of the tail wheels. The Crew Chief Al, the SGT rigger Del, and myself rapidly break down the towing arm, reverse a bit here, upside down a bit there, and voila, it will fit. Now for the tractor. And it is a tractor. An agricultural tractor. With twin rear wheels. I get the Boss to translate "I will tow". I don't think he translated the rest of my stressed message which went along the lines of "I'm not having some garlic-smelling foreigner ripping the tail wheel out of this aircraft in his enthusiasm to impress us with his Paris taxi driver antics". Well, I had seen him arrive with the Renault.
Del had placed a large chock in front of the mainwheel in an attempt to arrest the rate of sinkage. We all briefed what I was going to attempt. I would gently pull and ease back, then try and pull a bit more etc etc in order to try and rock the mainwheel out of its resting place. There was absolutely no room for any error on my part as there wasn't a sheer pin in the towing arm, and no tension spring, so all inputs from the tractor would be directed onto the tail wheel leg and surrounding structure.
In for a penny...feeling for the bite on the clutch and then take up load. Back off and try a bit more...then the tractor wheels spun. It just didn't have enough mass to pull the Shack. I explain the problem to the Boss who translates. Three minutes later, a small aircraft tug arrives. It was a similar size to the small American machines used to move F4's, about half the weight of our Shack. But it had to be better than the Renault. Problem was, this single-seater cab already had an occupant, and he wasn't going to get out. So I forced him into the corner, and we tried the rocking trick. This tug had an automatic gearbox which is fine for a smooth take-up, but lacked the precise feel needed in this situation. So, with the greatest trepidation, I started pulling, with my other foot resting on the brake to prevent any rollback. The tugs engine note increased, the tow bar creaked, the Shack groaned, and camlobe sweated. A bit more..."it's moved" from Del, who jams his chock in a bit further. A bit more rocking..."it's moved again". Al is concentrating on the tail wheel leg, and look, he's sweating too. I'm terrified I'm going to pull the leg out. Maybe I should ease off. Maybe there is another way. "It's moved again, it's going, it's going" and it's out. The feeling of relief was indescribable. I wasn't responsible for causing Cat 4 damage to one of her Majesty's aircraft. I straighten up the aircraft on the pan, give my towing 'partner' his tractor back, the French decide to leave the tow bar with us for the duration, and the Boss and crew leave to enjoy some French hospitality. Del does a most detailed inspection of the tail wheel leg and surrounding structure and proclaims everything in excellent health. Thank you Mr Chadwick, you built them well.
The reason why the mainwheel sank through the Tarmac was due to a culvert below that collapsed under the weight of half a Shack. The depression left by the mainwheel was around 6 inches deep.
That evening, we are gathered in the bar of the hotel drinking far more than is responsible. The bar closes, so the Boss insists we retire to his room and continue. After a few minutes of this, the porter knocks and quietly advises us the 90 year old lady next door is not amused. We move to another room and continue. The Boss and I are discussing the 'event' when he slurs " you know" he chuckles, " I did the same thing here 20 years ago in Mk III"
Happy daze.
Camlobe