Global Aviation Magazine : 60 Years of the Hercules

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Coff, I hope you’ll let me contribute on this auspicious occasion. This is a typical Albert down-route story. It is, however, quite long and I am a two-fingered typist who suffers from ‘cranker’s wonic’ after a while. Because of this I will submit it in two parts……….

Part 1

In the mid-80s a 47 Sqn crew was on an Eastabout. We were en-route from Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea, to Western Samoa where we planned to night-stop before continuing to Hawaii (Hickum) for a well-earned 2 days off.
The a/c was XV219 and it was performing well apart from a few minor niggles. One not-so-minor problem was that the rudder boost pack had been leaking from the Booster Hydraulic System side and had been isolated.

About two hours into the flight, flying over the Solomon Islands, the Loadie reported that the Utility Hydraulic Reservoir was showing less than half full and still dropping slowly. (For the uninitiated, this was the system that was supplying the ‘good’ side of the rudder boost pack.
Obviously we had to get this looked at; we were talking to Honiara Radio at the time and Honiara International Airport (HIR) was the nearest runway. Honiara is the capital of the Solomon Islands. We talked to Honiara Radio and requested a diversion to HIR because of a technical problem. They were very helpful and cleared us to descend and fly direct to the airfield. A quick search of the route bag showed that all we had for HIR was an airfield chart but, never mind, we had our friend in Honiara Radio…..who gave us the HIR weather and runway-in-use.
Nearing the airfield we asked for a tower frequency but were told to ‘remain this.’ At about 2000’ we asked for, and were given, landing clearance. Once on the ground, we stopped on the runway and the radio conversation went like this:

‘Honiara, ASCOT XXXX request taxy instructions’
‘ASCOT XXXXX where are you?’
‘We’re on RW XX, can’t you see us?’
‘No, I’m downtown Honiara………….’
‘??????????????????????????’
‘………..however, turn left and taxy to the terminal building. You are expected’

Suitably chastened, we taxied towards a low, single storey, building with HONIARA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT painted on the roof. The letters covered the whole roof and were not very big – this was not a large terminal building. The only other a/c we could see were a couple of sad looking Britten-Norman Islanders, with 3 engines between them. As we approached the terminal, a local – in baggy shorts and a loud T-shirt – appeared and pointed to a spot on the ground. The Loadie got out and chatted to him and confirmed ‘that’s where he wants us’ so we taxied up and shut down.

This is where the crew, like a well-oiled machine, transited from Air to Ground mode (hey! we were 47 Sqn) The G/E and I decided that I would do the normal servicing while he diagnosed the snag. The Loadie negotiated with the loud shirt – aka the Handling Agent – for catering, customs etc and the triumverate (pilots and nav) got their heads in the books to see if we could make it direct to Hickum. After, of course, the night-stop.

I asked the Handling Agent if there was any ground power – DC only, apparently. He went off and returned with what looked like an old supermarket trolley. On this was a long 13amp extension lead, a battery charger, two 12 volt batteries and a 15ft length of a/c DC cable. The Agent said that all he had to do was plug the extension lead into a wall socket in his office and we were good to go. I showed this to the G/E who fell about laughing, but we decided that we could use it for re-fuelling and essential lights. First, though, we spent a few minutes pulling LOTS of circuit breakers.

The Catering guy appeared next and told the Loadie that, since we were on an island, all the catering had to be destroyed and new stuff issued. The Loadie, ever helpful, said that was no problem…….he had a big blue rubbish bag into which he would tip all the food. He would then pour a can of Racasan over it and it would be safe to get rid of. The Catering guy visibly blanched – then stated that HE had to destroy the food, no-one else. The Loadie gave a knowing look then the two of them disappeared down the back to ‘discuss’ things. The upshot was that a smiling Caterer went off with our catering boxes.

By this time, the triumverate had decided we could make it to Hickum so I went to talk to the Refuellers. The fuel company was a father and son set-up and, when I told them how much fuel we wanted, they nearly danced around the bowser. We were to take more fuel in one go than they sold all month. I was impressed that they had a pressure hose, but we did take two bowsers. The G/E had found our problem.......... Now, Smudge, I know you want a detailed technical de-brief but it was a long time ago. All I can remember was that it was a fault in the reservoir vent line. Apparently, as we were just about to land, the level had gone back up to almost normal.

As I re-fuelled, a stretched Austin 1800 (remember them) with a Union Jack pennant drove up to the a/c. The driver got out and opened a rear door…..out stepped the British High Commissioner, in golf kit. As he explained, he had been putting on the 16th when an RAF Albert flew over with its gear down. He surmised it was landing and came to see if we wanted any help. By this time, we had been on the ground for more than 2 hours so he had, obviously, finished his game first. Our Capt took him on a tour of the a/c and he seemed really interested in the stack on the ramp. Like most Eastabout crews, we had made our first stop in Akrotiri to visit the NAAFI and stock up on ‘essentials’. And, like most crews, we had bought sufficient to last us 3 months – just in case. His Excellency was very interested in a large pile of McEwans Export cases and, being polite, we offered him a couple (of cases). At the same time we mentioned that we needed to arrange hotac. He (or should that be H.E.) said that was no problem, he would fix it. He mentioned that, since the hotel manager was from Yorkshire, a case or two would be appreciated.

So, with the a/c fixed and all the paperwork done, we followed the Handling Agent to a deserted terminal to clear Customs and Immigration. Two guys were waiting for us and stamped our passports with, what looked like, hand-made wooden blocks. They explained that it was VERY important that we get our passports stamped on the way out. When we mentioned that we would be leaving at 7am next morning, they looked at each other and said ‘JUST THIS ONCE’ they were willing to do the stamps now. We jumped into the transport and headed towards the hotel.

End of Part 1……….