The "Whistling wheelbarrow"
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Rubber protectors ???
Jim the "rubber protectors" on the leading edge of the propellers were electrical DE-ICE boots, worked on a timer device, notoriously unreliable, changed loads of boots as they overheated & burnt out just leaving the element exposed on the blade, when the rubber came off it didn't half make a noise as it flailed around prior to going off into orbit, bet that a lot of Arabs up the Gulf have flip-flops made from de-ice boots that came off in flight !, regards, Paul H.
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I have just revisited this site and continue to be highly entertained by the tales of daring do and hugely educational input regarding The Wheelbarrow!
Somewhat surprisingly, one of the great "Transport Warriors", Dad Owen, has failed ,yet, to make an appearance, in these Chronicles, so I add some reminisces to stir further chortle.
During the early days of Argosy operation at Benson , reference has been made to the appalling winter of 1962/63 which effectively closed the runway for a long period.
Just prior to the worst conditions,having been employed on snow clearance for most of the day, I was elected to accompany 'Dad' on a low level getaway to Wildenrath. A dramatic penetration of European radar defences preceded our jolly lubrication in the company of our 2 TAF buddies. Next day, thankfully, we were informed Benson and virtually all UK Stations were closed. More jolly ratification demanded.
Dad, with commendable resilience, on the third day of our nightstop decided to carry out some circuits to entertain our chums. Downwind, low level, for our second approach we were ordered to land immediately!
Fearing some misdemeanour had been revealed, we were astonished to be informed by O.C. Flying Wildenrath, that we were required to plan an early departure for Luqa- again low level and direct!
Sense prevailed and we departed next day for St Mawgan, the only airfield open in UK from whence we 'attacked' Malta via Gib, Port Lyautey etc etc- but thats another epic.
Most 'Dad Owen' sagas demanded an extended use of the night stop pantalones and singular acts of stamina from all! What say you?
We returned to Benson about a month later . God Bless, Dad!
A further aside, one wet morning I encountered Ian Bashall, marooned on the road to Henley and was able to give the "Great Survivor" a lift to rectify his car. Whatever magic potion Ian drinks, I'd like some too!!
Somewhat surprisingly, one of the great "Transport Warriors", Dad Owen, has failed ,yet, to make an appearance, in these Chronicles, so I add some reminisces to stir further chortle.
During the early days of Argosy operation at Benson , reference has been made to the appalling winter of 1962/63 which effectively closed the runway for a long period.
Just prior to the worst conditions,having been employed on snow clearance for most of the day, I was elected to accompany 'Dad' on a low level getaway to Wildenrath. A dramatic penetration of European radar defences preceded our jolly lubrication in the company of our 2 TAF buddies. Next day, thankfully, we were informed Benson and virtually all UK Stations were closed. More jolly ratification demanded.
Dad, with commendable resilience, on the third day of our nightstop decided to carry out some circuits to entertain our chums. Downwind, low level, for our second approach we were ordered to land immediately!
Fearing some misdemeanour had been revealed, we were astonished to be informed by O.C. Flying Wildenrath, that we were required to plan an early departure for Luqa- again low level and direct!
Sense prevailed and we departed next day for St Mawgan, the only airfield open in UK from whence we 'attacked' Malta via Gib, Port Lyautey etc etc- but thats another epic.
Most 'Dad Owen' sagas demanded an extended use of the night stop pantalones and singular acts of stamina from all! What say you?
We returned to Benson about a month later . God Bless, Dad!
A further aside, one wet morning I encountered Ian Bashall, marooned on the road to Henley and was able to give the "Great Survivor" a lift to rectify his car. Whatever magic potion Ian drinks, I'd like some too!!
Last edited by Boxkite Montgolfier; 21st Nov 2012 at 13:28.
Dad Owen - what a good thought! I'd been wondering how we might give this thread another stir, given all that has been told thus far. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be a great source here as I only knew him at 242 OCU, Thorney Island, where he was Instructor to the pilots on our crew (Ted Derbyshire and Ken Stanley) during No 21 Course over the summer of 1966. I do, however, recall a number of bibulous Saturday nights in the Mess with him holding court and delivering an inspirational "Once more into the breach" type speech before we went off to El Adem for the night and Tactical phase of the course.
I am moderately confident, however, that JW411 will be able to make up for my shortcomings in this regard - and am a little surprised if Dad has really not figured in any of his tales thus far.
And does the description, 'The face that's worn out five bodies,' sound right?
I am moderately confident, however, that JW411 will be able to make up for my shortcomings in this regard - and am a little surprised if Dad has really not figured in any of his tales thus far.
And does the description, 'The face that's worn out five bodies,' sound right?
It was actually "the face that wore out nine bodies".
Dad is sadly no longer with us. In fact, he died quite young. I think he was only 52 years old when he died. His liver finally gave up the unequal struggle. He retired to Colwyn Bay and I made a few forrays in that direction to see him. In fact, we once made a Taceval visit to the Mermaid on the Menai Straits to check out the landlord (St Jean Price?) who was ex-Beverleys.
Dad and I joined 267 Sqn right at the beginning. I was his lad. I cannot begin to tell you how much trouble we got into over the years but he taught me a hell of a lot about aviation. I could spend the next two years telling you stories about what we did.
Dad was actually a genius but he had an unerring habit of always being in the sh*t or very close to it.
One story; he hated lightweight headsets when they first appeared. I think he considered them to be akin to witchcraft. So, he insisted on using his old cloth hat (he had two; a normal one and his KD one - he cut all the panels out leaving just the straps so his hair stuck up in clumps).
The rest of us hated this for the impedence of his microphone didn't match our lightweight headsets. He also had this terrible habit of blowing into his microphone when he put it on.
I devised a wheeze; when he went downstairs for a pee, I used to plug his cloth hat into the supernumerary station box by the collapsible jump seat behind the captain's seat at the top of the stairs. I would turn all the knobs up exactly as he had them on his own box but I put him on "listen only". So he could hear but he couldn't talk.
He'd get back into his seat, put his cloth hat on and blow into the mask. "Bloody hell Dad, do you have to do that?". You could see his mouth moving but no sound came out. After a while, he would take it off and ask the engineer (usually Eric Yates) if he could have a screwdriver and a pair of pliers.
Dad would spend the next several hours taking his cloth hat to bits. He never did figure out what I'd done but we always let him have his comms back before landing.
He finally came to terms with the lightweight headset.
Dad is sadly no longer with us. In fact, he died quite young. I think he was only 52 years old when he died. His liver finally gave up the unequal struggle. He retired to Colwyn Bay and I made a few forrays in that direction to see him. In fact, we once made a Taceval visit to the Mermaid on the Menai Straits to check out the landlord (St Jean Price?) who was ex-Beverleys.
Dad and I joined 267 Sqn right at the beginning. I was his lad. I cannot begin to tell you how much trouble we got into over the years but he taught me a hell of a lot about aviation. I could spend the next two years telling you stories about what we did.
Dad was actually a genius but he had an unerring habit of always being in the sh*t or very close to it.
One story; he hated lightweight headsets when they first appeared. I think he considered them to be akin to witchcraft. So, he insisted on using his old cloth hat (he had two; a normal one and his KD one - he cut all the panels out leaving just the straps so his hair stuck up in clumps).
The rest of us hated this for the impedence of his microphone didn't match our lightweight headsets. He also had this terrible habit of blowing into his microphone when he put it on.
I devised a wheeze; when he went downstairs for a pee, I used to plug his cloth hat into the supernumerary station box by the collapsible jump seat behind the captain's seat at the top of the stairs. I would turn all the knobs up exactly as he had them on his own box but I put him on "listen only". So he could hear but he couldn't talk.
He'd get back into his seat, put his cloth hat on and blow into the mask. "Bloody hell Dad, do you have to do that?". You could see his mouth moving but no sound came out. After a while, he would take it off and ask the engineer (usually Eric Yates) if he could have a screwdriver and a pair of pliers.
Dad would spend the next several hours taking his cloth hat to bits. He never did figure out what I'd done but we always let him have his comms back before landing.
He finally came to terms with the lightweight headset.
Last edited by JW411; 21st Nov 2012 at 16:38.
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Dad Owen featured again shortly after we returned from our epic night stop mentioned above.
Dad plus motley scallywag naughty boys had departed Benson, en route, Gibraltar. Whilst in the cruise, off northern Portugal they experienced an engine fire and promptly loosed of all available fire bottles without extinguishing the fire warning. With commendable speed,after appropriate 'Pan' calls and liaison with our Portugeese allies, a rapid and unprecedented diversion to Oporto was effected. Dad plus crew landed on a runway surrounded and packed with the whole town, including all school children who had been released early to witness the "disaster". Our heroes were graciously met and feted by Oporto and its dignitaries, accommodated and then released into the bars, port caverns and restaurants various.
Meanwhile back at Benson base, after much Diplomatic and logistic head scratching, Johnny Walker, 114 Sqn and yours truly 267 Sqn, plus further naughty boys were dispatched to Oporto on "Operation Dad Aid". We mustered an Argosy eventually plus some ground crew and spare fire bottles and were launched on our back up mission. I should add that as the junior, I found myself lumbered with the Imprest to cover all crew Oporto requirements including Dad's boys.
Our trip down to Portugal-next -sea was uneventful apart from ,once again being greeted by the whole town on arrival. After locating our accommodation, a Chief of Chief's staff meeting ensued at which Johhny and Dad instructed me to dispense at least 3 days allowances given our anticipated stay, much to my concern. Dear reader, you can imagine the consequence of some very naughty boys been flushed in all pockets with mucho escudos!
A very long night followed. Chance meetings with all concerned in bars various resulted in vigorous reunions and a vast quantity of 'headache' was loaded. I finally surfaced in some disreputable establishment in company with a great chum Keith Mxxxxxxxn. Apparently we enjoyed ourselves.
Next morning, early, both Dad and Johnny were rattling my door exhorting an early departure no less. My howls of despair requesting escudo returns fell on deaf ears universally naturally. Thus , yours truly, failed to attain Air Rank but received for many years chirpy recognition and beers from all the naughty boys. Amen
Dad plus motley scallywag naughty boys had departed Benson, en route, Gibraltar. Whilst in the cruise, off northern Portugal they experienced an engine fire and promptly loosed of all available fire bottles without extinguishing the fire warning. With commendable speed,after appropriate 'Pan' calls and liaison with our Portugeese allies, a rapid and unprecedented diversion to Oporto was effected. Dad plus crew landed on a runway surrounded and packed with the whole town, including all school children who had been released early to witness the "disaster". Our heroes were graciously met and feted by Oporto and its dignitaries, accommodated and then released into the bars, port caverns and restaurants various.
Meanwhile back at Benson base, after much Diplomatic and logistic head scratching, Johnny Walker, 114 Sqn and yours truly 267 Sqn, plus further naughty boys were dispatched to Oporto on "Operation Dad Aid". We mustered an Argosy eventually plus some ground crew and spare fire bottles and were launched on our back up mission. I should add that as the junior, I found myself lumbered with the Imprest to cover all crew Oporto requirements including Dad's boys.
Our trip down to Portugal-next -sea was uneventful apart from ,once again being greeted by the whole town on arrival. After locating our accommodation, a Chief of Chief's staff meeting ensued at which Johhny and Dad instructed me to dispense at least 3 days allowances given our anticipated stay, much to my concern. Dear reader, you can imagine the consequence of some very naughty boys been flushed in all pockets with mucho escudos!
A very long night followed. Chance meetings with all concerned in bars various resulted in vigorous reunions and a vast quantity of 'headache' was loaded. I finally surfaced in some disreputable establishment in company with a great chum Keith Mxxxxxxxn. Apparently we enjoyed ourselves.
Next morning, early, both Dad and Johnny were rattling my door exhorting an early departure no less. My howls of despair requesting escudo returns fell on deaf ears universally naturally. Thus , yours truly, failed to attain Air Rank but received for many years chirpy recognition and beers from all the naughty boys. Amen
Last edited by Boxkite Montgolfier; 22nd Nov 2012 at 12:55.
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The Argosy
Firstly-I should like to give you all a profile of what I (we-as I have a co-writer in California) is trying to achieve-and Yes-we need your help.
But firstly, the comment about landing a cottage etc was applied to the Beverley was it not, only slightly modified to read "Like landing a council house from the upstairs toilet window".
But back to the plot. My co-writer and I would like to write and publish a book to be entitled CARGO TRAMPS and with the explanation "We flew where the money was and loaded anything that would fit through the cargo door".
But we need YOUR help ! We started last year in Monterey when we were guests of the Flying Tigers: We have some wonderful tales from those guys from the Budd Connestoga days up to the introduction of the DC8's.
We have first hand stories from guys who flew for Gaddafi; for Jack Malloch in Biafra and Rhodesia, for South American outfits whose history spanned one flight BUT we need your Stories-Full credit-or anonimity will be given
Thanks in advance
But firstly, the comment about landing a cottage etc was applied to the Beverley was it not, only slightly modified to read "Like landing a council house from the upstairs toilet window".
But back to the plot. My co-writer and I would like to write and publish a book to be entitled CARGO TRAMPS and with the explanation "We flew where the money was and loaded anything that would fit through the cargo door".
But we need YOUR help ! We started last year in Monterey when we were guests of the Flying Tigers: We have some wonderful tales from those guys from the Budd Connestoga days up to the introduction of the DC8's.
We have first hand stories from guys who flew for Gaddafi; for Jack Malloch in Biafra and Rhodesia, for South American outfits whose history spanned one flight BUT we need your Stories-Full credit-or anonimity will be given
Thanks in advance
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Here's my tuppence worth... my first ever flight in a powered aeroplane was an air experience flight in an Argosy when I was in the Combined Cadet Force (RAF Section) at school. We took off from RAF Benson and flew for about two hours, taking in a couple of south coast towns in the process. We landed back at Benson breathless with the excitement of it all. This would have been in the late 60's when I was about 15... I am now 59 and have been flying professionally, both military and civil, since I was 19 (including 8 years on the C130), and because of that unforgettable flight the Argosy will always hold a special place in my aviating heart. I will dig out my Cadet Flying Log Book to establish the exact aircraft and the date.
Last edited by Smudger; 24th Nov 2012 at 20:21.
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Whisling Tit, into LGW with Air Cadets from RAFG summer camp, full of boiled egg farts, that was one for the new ramp agents
'Dad' Owen ... He was Flt Cdr on 30 at Dishforth when I started on Bevs.I believe he was the instigator of the Sqdn " Location Board" which contained all the crew names and a space for location, of which there were weekday headings each of which indicated a local town whose Market Day it was!! (For the juveniles who know not of old style licencing laws, special dispensation was given for extended opening hours on Market Days. Excellent system but I fear that it would generate attacks of the vapours in today's organisations.
He also had some 'sage advice' for the new spouse of one of our number who came to complain of her husband's absence - said husband was noted as being an overly zealous bed-partner!! The advice will have to wait until after the watershed
He also had some 'sage advice' for the new spouse of one of our number who came to complain of her husband's absence - said husband was noted as being an overly zealous bed-partner!! The advice will have to wait until after the watershed
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Argosy deployment to East Africa
I remember that time well. I was the SEngO with 114 Sqn and flew down to Eastleigh as part of an advance party, the idea being that we would, when the UK govt decided to do so, form part of a mixed Argosy/ Javelin force deployed to Beira in what was then Portuguese East Africa.
Our route took us through various refuelling stops (I remember Khartoum was one of them). My party spent the whole flight (a good 24 hours as I recall) in para seats, with a Landrover and various pallets of spares and ground equipment down the middle of the cargo bay. The Sqn Cdr (Wg Cdr Evans) arrived shortly afterwards and there were also 2 or 3 Britannias at Eastleigh. Thankfully, the Portuguses didn't let us in (Beira, by all accounts, was an absolute hell-hole). We spent a pleasant week or 10 days in Kenya and then went home. Made a change.
Our route took us through various refuelling stops (I remember Khartoum was one of them). My party spent the whole flight (a good 24 hours as I recall) in para seats, with a Landrover and various pallets of spares and ground equipment down the middle of the cargo bay. The Sqn Cdr (Wg Cdr Evans) arrived shortly afterwards and there were also 2 or 3 Britannias at Eastleigh. Thankfully, the Portuguses didn't let us in (Beira, by all accounts, was an absolute hell-hole). We spent a pleasant week or 10 days in Kenya and then went home. Made a change.
I found myself lumbered with the Imprest
Next morning, en-route Gander, we received orders: "Return to Keflavik, refuel and return to base."
Buggah! Bas spent a busy few hours collecting as much of his imprest as possible back from reluctant beneficiaries and re-doing the paperwork.
Just noted that JW411 was in command Kef-Benson.
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Argosies and UDI
A somewhat late contribution to this thread: two 267 aircraft were tasked with taking some signals stuff to Malawi via Tripoli, Kano, Leopoldville (as was), Elizabethville (as was) and onwards. We were both 105,000lbs and often flew in loose formation over the more inhospitable parts of the route in case one had a spot of engine failure. Max altitude was about 10,000ft (which wasn't much agl over the Great African Plateau).
After delivering our cargo I was then directed to Livingstone to await Ace Freighters' Constellation (did I imagine it or did I see rolls of copper wire stowed in the nosewheel bay!?). We took an entire radio broadcast station via the Caprevi Strip to Francistown in Bechuanaland (as was) where a BBC relay station was built. At Francistown (famed for being on the Mafeking-Bulawayo railway), after a low pass to clear random wildlife from the runway, the inhabitants of the local jail were mustered to offload the plane. They were a jolly lot and enjoyed finishing off our catering and were supervised by a large amiable prison officer with a bull-whip.
Back at the Zambian AF base (ZAF was run by the Brits then) there was a mini mutiny when it was heard that the then Wilson government was thinking of bombing Salisbury. But that's another story..
After delivering our cargo I was then directed to Livingstone to await Ace Freighters' Constellation (did I imagine it or did I see rolls of copper wire stowed in the nosewheel bay!?). We took an entire radio broadcast station via the Caprevi Strip to Francistown in Bechuanaland (as was) where a BBC relay station was built. At Francistown (famed for being on the Mafeking-Bulawayo railway), after a low pass to clear random wildlife from the runway, the inhabitants of the local jail were mustered to offload the plane. They were a jolly lot and enjoyed finishing off our catering and were supervised by a large amiable prison officer with a bull-whip.
Back at the Zambian AF base (ZAF was run by the Brits then) there was a mini mutiny when it was heard that the then Wilson government was thinking of bombing Salisbury. But that's another story..
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Does anyone know if the one at the Yankee Museum has actually been scrapped??
This from 2013:
Yankee Air Museum Makes Tough Decisions | Warbirds News
I will hopefully be there for Thunder Over Michigan airshow this weekend and was hoping to see the aircraft.
Pretty sad state of affairs if it is Coors Cans now!!!
Mx
This from 2013:
Yankee Air Museum Makes Tough Decisions | Warbirds News
I will hopefully be there for Thunder Over Michigan airshow this weekend and was hoping to see the aircraft.
Pretty sad state of affairs if it is Coors Cans now!!!
Mx
Francistown was an interesting place. The airport was run by the Witwatersrand Native Labour Association (WENELA) to supply labourers to the South African gold mines in a fleet of old DC 4's. We were on the ground long enough enjoy lunch at a pub in the main street, which also happened to have the main railway line running along it. We felt as if we had been transported back in time to Dodge City ca 1850. I also remember the monster slag heap, which I believe came from the first gold mine in Africa.
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Appropro Whistling tits and imprests. I was on 114 sqn and we did the 1964 IDC tour. That was an end of course jolly around europe for brass hat graduates of the Imperial Defence College.
The skipper was Johnny Walker, co pilot Dave Paul, and nav Pete Sharpe.I cannot remember the names of the A eng or the two AQMs.
We were in Rome on the coach near the Collesium enroute to the aircraft for flight to Belgrade. I was sitting behind the skipper when i heard him say OOOH DAVID. D P had just told him that he had left his briefcase with the imprest and all our money in the hotel room that he had just checked out of. Fortunately a quick 180 to the hotel and the briefcase was retreived. I believe that D P became a wing commander,I wonder how much longer it would have taken if the briefcase had vanished.
The skipper was Johnny Walker, co pilot Dave Paul, and nav Pete Sharpe.I cannot remember the names of the A eng or the two AQMs.
We were in Rome on the coach near the Collesium enroute to the aircraft for flight to Belgrade. I was sitting behind the skipper when i heard him say OOOH DAVID. D P had just told him that he had left his briefcase with the imprest and all our money in the hotel room that he had just checked out of. Fortunately a quick 180 to the hotel and the briefcase was retreived. I believe that D P became a wing commander,I wonder how much longer it would have taken if the briefcase had vanished.
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An interesting thread that takes me back a few years!
From a victim's (passenger) point of view one or two of the posts had me reminiscing.
Re the Matsapa to Francistown move, Ias a technician in the Royal Signals, was supposed to be detached from Aden to Matsapa but then someone noticed a move was afoot so my mate & I were held off until the move was almost complete.
We were put on board an RAF Argosy at Khormaksar and were slightly bewildered by the "seating" arrangements. There weren't any! Unless you happened to be the Air Vice Marshall, Brigadier or Major I/C B Company South Wales Borderers who were going there to take over from the Paddies. That select few had what appeared to be bus seats, bolted to the deck at the rear of the aircraft, facing aft.
We had a pair of parallel tubes with some webbing strung between them. The seat belt was a net that dangled from the deck head. Smashing!
In the middle of what would otherwise have been a bare deck, there was a couple of piles of cargo.
We flew to RAF Eastleigh for some reason and re-embarked just before dawn. I was startled when climbing the ladder to board the aircraft, a tech doing up a huge nut in the centre of the nose wheel. His mate then produced a large spanner to tighten it.
Off we went and the aircraft obviously had a problem as one of the RAF lot came down a ladder at the front and checked the doors, particularly the one nearest to me. Back up the ladder he went but it would seem he still didn't have the indication he wanted. A couple of checks later and he gave up, disappearing back up his ladder, never to be seen again. Eventually, the aircraft fixed itself. As we got higher, the door nearest to me suddenly gave a bit of a bang, popped open slightly (inward, I think), then slammed itself shut. That fixed it!
Landing at Chileka, we were on the ground only a short time. Departure from there was interesting; we taxied to the end of the runway and without even slowing down, it was a quick left turn and max revs. Toward the end of the runway, there was a hump and we hit this, bounced up into the air and away we went. The forerunner of the ski jump affair on HMS Carriers, perhaps?
Landing at Francistown, it was raining and the locals told us it was the first time for 7 years. What they hadn't told us was it had been raining for days and the floods were only just subsiding. The outcome was that the Argosy left ruts in the runway, which didn't go down at all well with WENELA, who promptly banned the RAF from any further flights into Francistown.
Our next re-supply flight from Aden was fulfilled with a Beverley. Of course this "went tech" in Nairobi as they always did. Eventually, it arrived and a couple of blokes kicked everything out of the back door on parachutes. Sadly for me, the piece of kit I had been waiting for (ironically, an RAF issue RF power amplifier, known as SL56) was on the one parachute that didn't work. I had 48 hours solid work (no kip). Thanks lads!
Re the hotel etc mentioned above, there were 2 hotels on that main street, The Grand and the Tati. The Grand was for Ruperts and the Tati was for us lot.
Rhodesian Railways used to run through the town, from Johannesburg to Bulawayo. There was one famous evening when a group of drunken Paddies decided to go walk about. So they hijacked the train! They were arrested and jailed in Rhodesia. A young infantryman from the South Wales Borderers caused a stir by stowing away in the coal tender, being discovered in Bulawayo. A bit of a diplomatic incident and questions asked in the house; why was a 17 year old soldier sent abroad in the first place?
As for the "propaganda station" mentioned in an earlier post; that was the Central African Relay Station of the BBC World Service. The infantry I was accompanying were there primarily to guard that and the Diplomatic Wireless Service station.
While we were supposed to be observing sanctions against Rhodesia, we often received small stores that had been mailed to the Military Attache in Pretoria and then put on a Rhodesian Railways train to get to us.
Also, our resident RAF lad, a cross between a loadmaster and a refueller, had the use of a fuel bowser courtesy of Shell/BP Rhodesia. Some sanctions!
Incidentally, that main street in Francistown was a boundary for us. Company orders always featured an "out of bounds" message and the first 2 locations were:
1. Rhodesia
2: South of the railway line.
Happy days!
I also notice in this thread the topic of routing.
When I finally left Aden in late 1967, my lucky mates got rides home on the new fangled BOAC B707s. My mates and I were not so lucky and we had to settle for one of Transport Command's finest Britannias. The UK had upset everyone in the Middle East over alleged support for Israel and the RAF were not allowed to overfly most of the Arab countries. So we went cross country over Oman to the Gulf coast. Left turn there and on the Muharraq. I was thinking this cold be interesting, we seem to have boxed ourselves in here. We took off and, after an hour or two, the pilot sent round a chart, wrapped up in stout polythene and with our route marked in chinagraph pencil and I was amazed to see were crossing Iran and our track was going to take us over Armenia & Georgia. Over the USSR at the height of the cold war! At the Black Sea, there was a wide semi-circle which skirted Turkey and took us to Akrotiri. From there, via Luqa, we eventually arrived at Lyneham, 20 hours after we had set out!
The aircraft was a casevac flight and when we arrived, the Customs were total toe rags. They stopped the ambulances loading stretchers and insisted on every casualty being searched in situ, on the aircraft. They were poking thin pieces of dowel up plaster casts and into bandages etc. Someone snitched though, as they made the front page of some newspapers the next day.
The poor old aircraft was doomed though. I heard that, after filling up with new stores, post, nurses etc, it went back to Khormaksar where it failed to stop at the end of the landing run. Although there were no casualties, I believe it was blown up in situ.
From a victim's (passenger) point of view one or two of the posts had me reminiscing.
Re the Matsapa to Francistown move, Ias a technician in the Royal Signals, was supposed to be detached from Aden to Matsapa but then someone noticed a move was afoot so my mate & I were held off until the move was almost complete.
We were put on board an RAF Argosy at Khormaksar and were slightly bewildered by the "seating" arrangements. There weren't any! Unless you happened to be the Air Vice Marshall, Brigadier or Major I/C B Company South Wales Borderers who were going there to take over from the Paddies. That select few had what appeared to be bus seats, bolted to the deck at the rear of the aircraft, facing aft.
We had a pair of parallel tubes with some webbing strung between them. The seat belt was a net that dangled from the deck head. Smashing!
In the middle of what would otherwise have been a bare deck, there was a couple of piles of cargo.
We flew to RAF Eastleigh for some reason and re-embarked just before dawn. I was startled when climbing the ladder to board the aircraft, a tech doing up a huge nut in the centre of the nose wheel. His mate then produced a large spanner to tighten it.
Off we went and the aircraft obviously had a problem as one of the RAF lot came down a ladder at the front and checked the doors, particularly the one nearest to me. Back up the ladder he went but it would seem he still didn't have the indication he wanted. A couple of checks later and he gave up, disappearing back up his ladder, never to be seen again. Eventually, the aircraft fixed itself. As we got higher, the door nearest to me suddenly gave a bit of a bang, popped open slightly (inward, I think), then slammed itself shut. That fixed it!
Landing at Chileka, we were on the ground only a short time. Departure from there was interesting; we taxied to the end of the runway and without even slowing down, it was a quick left turn and max revs. Toward the end of the runway, there was a hump and we hit this, bounced up into the air and away we went. The forerunner of the ski jump affair on HMS Carriers, perhaps?
Landing at Francistown, it was raining and the locals told us it was the first time for 7 years. What they hadn't told us was it had been raining for days and the floods were only just subsiding. The outcome was that the Argosy left ruts in the runway, which didn't go down at all well with WENELA, who promptly banned the RAF from any further flights into Francistown.
Our next re-supply flight from Aden was fulfilled with a Beverley. Of course this "went tech" in Nairobi as they always did. Eventually, it arrived and a couple of blokes kicked everything out of the back door on parachutes. Sadly for me, the piece of kit I had been waiting for (ironically, an RAF issue RF power amplifier, known as SL56) was on the one parachute that didn't work. I had 48 hours solid work (no kip). Thanks lads!
Re the hotel etc mentioned above, there were 2 hotels on that main street, The Grand and the Tati. The Grand was for Ruperts and the Tati was for us lot.
Rhodesian Railways used to run through the town, from Johannesburg to Bulawayo. There was one famous evening when a group of drunken Paddies decided to go walk about. So they hijacked the train! They were arrested and jailed in Rhodesia. A young infantryman from the South Wales Borderers caused a stir by stowing away in the coal tender, being discovered in Bulawayo. A bit of a diplomatic incident and questions asked in the house; why was a 17 year old soldier sent abroad in the first place?
As for the "propaganda station" mentioned in an earlier post; that was the Central African Relay Station of the BBC World Service. The infantry I was accompanying were there primarily to guard that and the Diplomatic Wireless Service station.
While we were supposed to be observing sanctions against Rhodesia, we often received small stores that had been mailed to the Military Attache in Pretoria and then put on a Rhodesian Railways train to get to us.
Also, our resident RAF lad, a cross between a loadmaster and a refueller, had the use of a fuel bowser courtesy of Shell/BP Rhodesia. Some sanctions!
Incidentally, that main street in Francistown was a boundary for us. Company orders always featured an "out of bounds" message and the first 2 locations were:
1. Rhodesia
2: South of the railway line.
Happy days!
I also notice in this thread the topic of routing.
When I finally left Aden in late 1967, my lucky mates got rides home on the new fangled BOAC B707s. My mates and I were not so lucky and we had to settle for one of Transport Command's finest Britannias. The UK had upset everyone in the Middle East over alleged support for Israel and the RAF were not allowed to overfly most of the Arab countries. So we went cross country over Oman to the Gulf coast. Left turn there and on the Muharraq. I was thinking this cold be interesting, we seem to have boxed ourselves in here. We took off and, after an hour or two, the pilot sent round a chart, wrapped up in stout polythene and with our route marked in chinagraph pencil and I was amazed to see were crossing Iran and our track was going to take us over Armenia & Georgia. Over the USSR at the height of the cold war! At the Black Sea, there was a wide semi-circle which skirted Turkey and took us to Akrotiri. From there, via Luqa, we eventually arrived at Lyneham, 20 hours after we had set out!
The aircraft was a casevac flight and when we arrived, the Customs were total toe rags. They stopped the ambulances loading stretchers and insisted on every casualty being searched in situ, on the aircraft. They were poking thin pieces of dowel up plaster casts and into bandages etc. Someone snitched though, as they made the front page of some newspapers the next day.
The poor old aircraft was doomed though. I heard that, after filling up with new stores, post, nurses etc, it went back to Khormaksar where it failed to stop at the end of the landing run. Although there were no casualties, I believe it was blown up in situ.