Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
Danny, Sir, thank you for both your, and your fellows' actions, and your great narrative. I wish you the best, and sincerely hope we haven't heard the last. You could make the minutes of a meeting of the Apple & Pear Board interesting.
Hands up all those who have been on a Chinese Air Base……………No, I thought not.
There was a requirement by an oil company to survey a exploration rig. It was located the other side of Bo Hai and we could not carry enough fuel to go there and back with the necessary diversion fuel. We could have flown to the rig and then carried on to Dalian but it would have taken a long time. Our sister company organisers came up with Shanghaiguan, a Chinese Air Force base on the northern coast.
Shanghaiguan is where ‘The Dragon Drinks From the Sea’, or where the Great Wall ends on the coast. When the peasants revolted and in 1644 overran Beijing the Ming Emperor Chongzen committed suicide by hanging himself. His general Wu Sangui open the gates at Shanghaiguan and let in the Manchu army. Emperor Shunzhi of the Manchu then became the first Emperor of the Q’ing Dynasty, the last dynasty of China.
We launched up the coast to the base. They had an ILS but my FO explained that it was only switched on in bad weather. We landed, taxied past rows of Nanchang Q-5s and were then marshalled onto a spot.
I will not go too deep describing what I saw for three reasons:
1. I was their guest and it would be inappropriate to disclose anything that may have been confidential.
2. At the turn of the century there was a massive overhaul of the PLA’s T&Cs to recruit and retain the calibre of personnel required for an increasingly technical and sophisticated service.
3. I have a long term multi-entry Chinese visa and I want to keep it.
We had a small crowd around us and one of them had gone to college with my FO. This meant that he, and the other pilots, spoke English as well as he did. The fuel bowser was old, our company had scrapped the same type, 6 cyl side valve motor, a couple of years before, but it was immaculate and they did a water check of the fuel before me. I had all the pilots in the cockpit, Flight Directors, GPS, twin channel autopilot and weather radar was unknown to them. I did not ask to have a look at a Q-5. I knew that they would have to refuse and I wanted to save them the embarrassment of doing so. We then went to their mess for some refreshment.
The station surroundings were plain enough. As normal, with my previous experience of Chinese bases, no hangers. Some aircraft appeared to be used continually with others parked with full wing and fuselage covers.
The officer’s mess was a bit Spartan. It seemed to consist of little more than an ante room and a dining hall, the accommodation being huts out at the back. As usual with any conversation with Chinese the question would come round to how much I was paid so I told them. The ripple of jaws hitting the floor was something to behold. It was established that the equivalent of a Fg. Off. was paid about 350 yuan a month. As a comparison I paid my housekeeper 200 yuan to come it five mornings a week. 350 yuan at that time was just over £23. However, poorly paid or not all of them were saying how proud they were to be in the Air Force and serve the people.
We said our goodbyes and departed. Immediately after takeoff I flew over the coastal fortress which was the end of the Wall. The wall itself had been quarried, leaving a continuous earthen mound and in the distance you could see the ruined towers climbing up the hills.
The rig was a disaster. Chinese owned and operated it had had zero maintenance since they had bought it. None of the fire extinguishers or the refuelling kit worked and down below the plastic floor coverings in the corridors had worn through to the steel decking. I was quite glad when they had finished and we flew back to Tanggu.
A week or so after that we came to the end of the contract. I used what remained of my cash float to hire a couple of taxis and take my engineers to see the Forbidden City and the Great Wall. After a night out at Beijing Hard Rock we returned and the next day started preparing to fly the aircraft right across China back to Shenzhen.
There was a requirement by an oil company to survey a exploration rig. It was located the other side of Bo Hai and we could not carry enough fuel to go there and back with the necessary diversion fuel. We could have flown to the rig and then carried on to Dalian but it would have taken a long time. Our sister company organisers came up with Shanghaiguan, a Chinese Air Force base on the northern coast.
Shanghaiguan is where ‘The Dragon Drinks From the Sea’, or where the Great Wall ends on the coast. When the peasants revolted and in 1644 overran Beijing the Ming Emperor Chongzen committed suicide by hanging himself. His general Wu Sangui open the gates at Shanghaiguan and let in the Manchu army. Emperor Shunzhi of the Manchu then became the first Emperor of the Q’ing Dynasty, the last dynasty of China.
We launched up the coast to the base. They had an ILS but my FO explained that it was only switched on in bad weather. We landed, taxied past rows of Nanchang Q-5s and were then marshalled onto a spot.
I will not go too deep describing what I saw for three reasons:
1. I was their guest and it would be inappropriate to disclose anything that may have been confidential.
2. At the turn of the century there was a massive overhaul of the PLA’s T&Cs to recruit and retain the calibre of personnel required for an increasingly technical and sophisticated service.
3. I have a long term multi-entry Chinese visa and I want to keep it.
We had a small crowd around us and one of them had gone to college with my FO. This meant that he, and the other pilots, spoke English as well as he did. The fuel bowser was old, our company had scrapped the same type, 6 cyl side valve motor, a couple of years before, but it was immaculate and they did a water check of the fuel before me. I had all the pilots in the cockpit, Flight Directors, GPS, twin channel autopilot and weather radar was unknown to them. I did not ask to have a look at a Q-5. I knew that they would have to refuse and I wanted to save them the embarrassment of doing so. We then went to their mess for some refreshment.
The station surroundings were plain enough. As normal, with my previous experience of Chinese bases, no hangers. Some aircraft appeared to be used continually with others parked with full wing and fuselage covers.
The officer’s mess was a bit Spartan. It seemed to consist of little more than an ante room and a dining hall, the accommodation being huts out at the back. As usual with any conversation with Chinese the question would come round to how much I was paid so I told them. The ripple of jaws hitting the floor was something to behold. It was established that the equivalent of a Fg. Off. was paid about 350 yuan a month. As a comparison I paid my housekeeper 200 yuan to come it five mornings a week. 350 yuan at that time was just over £23. However, poorly paid or not all of them were saying how proud they were to be in the Air Force and serve the people.
We said our goodbyes and departed. Immediately after takeoff I flew over the coastal fortress which was the end of the Wall. The wall itself had been quarried, leaving a continuous earthen mound and in the distance you could see the ruined towers climbing up the hills.
The rig was a disaster. Chinese owned and operated it had had zero maintenance since they had bought it. None of the fire extinguishers or the refuelling kit worked and down below the plastic floor coverings in the corridors had worn through to the steel decking. I was quite glad when they had finished and we flew back to Tanggu.
A week or so after that we came to the end of the contract. I used what remained of my cash float to hire a couple of taxis and take my engineers to see the Forbidden City and the Great Wall. After a night out at Beijing Hard Rock we returned and the next day started preparing to fly the aircraft right across China back to Shenzhen.
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 8th Oct 2014 at 09:56.
What a surprise ... returning to this wonderful thread after my major overhaul over the summer has kept me absorbed for most of the day, the downside being Danny's Swan Song.
Hopefully there are more old hands like Fareastdriver with his fascinating tales of China Station, and equally hopefully Danny will still make the occasional circuit and landing.
To you, Sir, and other pPruners who have sent their good wishes, my sincere thanks. Geriaviator is now restored to full power after a period of running-in, his rate of climb restored to that of a decade ago thanks to the 22ins length of pipe removed from his right leg in order to re-plumb his hydraulic pump.
Apparently the body can form new veins to compensate for the spare part, leaving only an impressive scar. And there's another length of pipe in the left leg, showing remarkable foresight by the manufacturer. My very pretty nurse Jenny suggests I should put it on eBay
Hopefully there are more old hands like Fareastdriver with his fascinating tales of China Station, and equally hopefully Danny will still make the occasional circuit and landing.
To you, Sir, and other pPruners who have sent their good wishes, my sincere thanks. Geriaviator is now restored to full power after a period of running-in, his rate of climb restored to that of a decade ago thanks to the 22ins length of pipe removed from his right leg in order to re-plumb his hydraulic pump.
Apparently the body can form new veins to compensate for the spare part, leaving only an impressive scar. And there's another length of pipe in the left leg, showing remarkable foresight by the manufacturer. My very pretty nurse Jenny suggests I should put it on eBay
Danny
I too would like to thank Danny for his stories...along with many others including Cliff and Regie ---they have answered (and posed) why the 1970s were how they were for me.
My apologies for the belated thanks but I've been throwing myself off a mountain in Bassano del Grappa.
I was employed by BEA which had a terrible accident rate and I managed to escape the fold to the VC10 as BA was formed. BOAC had made several deliberate changes in the late sixties to stem their horrific accident rate...it worked.
I initially flew at Hamble with ex fighter and ground attack pilots whose instructing abilities were, by and large, excellent BUT...there was always the keep stumm mentality.
We had some real bomber command Gents including Prince Georges grandfather but more than our fair share of pilots who understood little about training and safety....which I gleaned from the thread was fairly common.
Fareastdriver;
It was at Hamble that I found myself upside down (involuntary) for the first time. In a twin engined D55 Baron during a straight and level clean stall.....obviously someone had overstressed it - probably trying a barrel roll. I reported it to my instructor who looked at it, shrugged his shoulders and walked off.
We also had a practically new bent PA28 Cherokee ....the college in it's wisdom had decided that spin training was reserved for later in the course and only on the Chipmunk....bloggs on my course got into a spiral dive which he thought was a spin and applied full power. Naturally he didn't report it.
The second occasion the sky moved for me was in a Grob twin Astir flying out of the Cape gliding club at Worcester...when a particularly violent thermal rolled us inverted at 200ft AGL....interesting when you hear a "bang" and see your pupil's camelback sitting above your head.
Cockneysteve;
I worked on the building of Chartwell Square after they destroyed the Victorian Arcade at Southend....the council and their mates had a "master plan" of getting rid of the tourists - mainly East Enders - for the good of Southend - a cynical person might say their aim was to line their pockets. The open corruption was incredible and eventually the chief constable was sentenced to two years and the police force was disbanded.
I had dealings with the VAT people who were very pleasant and a school chum's father was something big having been posted down from Liverpool.
Last time I was down in Sarfend it appears as Stobart has reversed the decline...good luck to him.
I was paragliding last week with a guy whose father in law is involved with the Arnold scheme society...but best of all was the instructor...half my age, 1/5 of my hours and a real "geezer" from Romford...he was refreshing and destroyed the old adage that "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"...but interestingly enough he said that he had never met a pilot who said "I messed up" or words to that effect - he obviously hasn't been on this thread
My apologies for the belated thanks but I've been throwing myself off a mountain in Bassano del Grappa.
I was employed by BEA which had a terrible accident rate and I managed to escape the fold to the VC10 as BA was formed. BOAC had made several deliberate changes in the late sixties to stem their horrific accident rate...it worked.
I initially flew at Hamble with ex fighter and ground attack pilots whose instructing abilities were, by and large, excellent BUT...there was always the keep stumm mentality.
We had some real bomber command Gents including Prince Georges grandfather but more than our fair share of pilots who understood little about training and safety....which I gleaned from the thread was fairly common.
Fareastdriver;
It was at Hamble that I found myself upside down (involuntary) for the first time. In a twin engined D55 Baron during a straight and level clean stall.....obviously someone had overstressed it - probably trying a barrel roll. I reported it to my instructor who looked at it, shrugged his shoulders and walked off.
We also had a practically new bent PA28 Cherokee ....the college in it's wisdom had decided that spin training was reserved for later in the course and only on the Chipmunk....bloggs on my course got into a spiral dive which he thought was a spin and applied full power. Naturally he didn't report it.
The second occasion the sky moved for me was in a Grob twin Astir flying out of the Cape gliding club at Worcester...when a particularly violent thermal rolled us inverted at 200ft AGL....interesting when you hear a "bang" and see your pupil's camelback sitting above your head.
Cockneysteve;
I worked on the building of Chartwell Square after they destroyed the Victorian Arcade at Southend....the council and their mates had a "master plan" of getting rid of the tourists - mainly East Enders - for the good of Southend - a cynical person might say their aim was to line their pockets. The open corruption was incredible and eventually the chief constable was sentenced to two years and the police force was disbanded.
I had dealings with the VAT people who were very pleasant and a school chum's father was something big having been posted down from Liverpool.
Last time I was down in Sarfend it appears as Stobart has reversed the decline...good luck to him.
I was paragliding last week with a guy whose father in law is involved with the Arnold scheme society...but best of all was the instructor...half my age, 1/5 of my hours and a real "geezer" from Romford...he was refreshing and destroyed the old adage that "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"...but interestingly enough he said that he had never met a pilot who said "I messed up" or words to that effect - he obviously hasn't been on this thread
Hands up all those who have been on a Chinese Air Base……………No, I thought not.
Last edited by Dan Winterland; 8th Oct 2014 at 00:22. Reason: Too much info.
Whilst we were living it up in Beijing First Officer Wang, with a senior pilot from China Ocean Helicopter Corp, our sister company, was in Tanjian airport planning our return. The plot was that we would fly to Zhangxiaoji to refuel, continue on to Shanghai, refuel again and then carry on to Wenzhou were COHC had another operation. There we would night stop. The next morning, Wang would remain and First Officer Jing would fly with me to Shenzhen.
It was January, 6th Jan 1997 to be precise and Northern China was in the middle of winter. The temperature overnight would drop to minus 15 and in the morning it would rocket up to about plus 2. My engineers were coming with me so after the goodbyes we punched orft daun sauf.
There is no such thing as general air traffic in China. A minimum of twelve hours notice is required and one always flies airways under IFR. We climbed just south of Tianjin and we joined the airway at our allocated height of 2,500 metres, approx, 8,200 ft, which was the minimum flight level going south. The temperature at that height was about -5 but as the Siberian High was established there was no cloud up to that level. The scenery was miserable; miles and miles of paddy as far as one could see, all in orderly rectangular pattern.
After a couple hours or so the cloudbase dropped and we started to run into streaks of status. The reaction of the centre windscreen, unheated, was instantaneous and it immediately fogged out with ice. This was followed by the mirror supports and the door hinges building up wedges of the stuff. Poor old Wang was having kittens. He, with his fellow students, had been listening with horror to their Chinese Navy instructor reeling off the horrors and the certain death that icing would bring to helicopters. Which I thought was strange, as they were taught on Russian designed helicopters that were built for blundering through the tundra. I wasn’t worried, this was peanuts compared to the North Sea and the aircraft, still in North Sea fit, had all the gizmos; ice detectors, mirrors to check the intake chip baskets, etc etc. To make him feel better I splashed some water onto my flying glove, stuck it out of my window where the water immediately froze. I then brought it in and flicked my fingers to show how easily the ice came off. Relieved he came back from the cockpit roof and carried on with his navigating and I surreptitiously shoved my hand between my backside and the seat cushion to try to get some feeling back in my fingers.
We then had our clearance to descend towards Zhangxiouji. This was a small military airfield in the middle of absolutely nowhere. As we taxied in Wang was discussing something with ATC and merely said there was a problem. As we shut down everybody was staring at us with open mouths. We had flown with a COHC callsign and the last thing they had expected was a British registered aircraft with a Western captain. The ‘problem’ was fairly serious. Wang had filed, and it had been accepted for the days flying, but Zhangxiouji had not received the onward flight plan.
I left my engineers to sort out the refuel and I stood, ankle deep in air traffic’s dog-ends in the tower. Wang was on the blower trying to sort something out and I had a look around. Apart from the ATC staff there seemed little evidence of any military activity. At the end of the building there were two rows of H-5 (il26) bombers in an advanced state of disrepair and behind them were a clutch of Shenyang J-5s (Mig 17) in a similar condition. It indicated that it may have been a training base once upon a time but they had moved on. On the near horizon was what I took to be the local town. Bleak, grey, with few buildings above two floors. I thought that if we had to night stop here we would be lucky to find 0.5 star hotel, if at all.
Wang struck lucky! Shanghai would not accept us because of the twelve hour rule but Changzhou would. We might not be able to get any further but at least it was civilised. Without further ado, because there were no catering facilities and we were dying of starvation, we got airborne.
Changzhou was a mixed military and civil airport. Something I found out as I taxied past a row of H-5 (Tu-16) bombers. The aircraft were immaculate, as was the ground equipment; even the wheel nuts had been painted. I turned on to the hardstanding and there was one of the prettiest terminal buildings I had ever seen. It was built like a Chinese pavilion with flying ridges and in front was a moat with bridges to the gates. We decided to have lunch whilst the going was good and after a ridiculously cheap repast in a beautiful restaurant we went up to the tower to see what the state of play was.
Shanghai wasn’t playing ball and because they controlled the airway halfway to Xiamin we could not cross that either to get to Wenzhou. We spent the afternoon trying various combinations to get to Wenzhou but they were all blocked by the 12 hour rule. At about five I decided that we were going to have to night stop and just after the engineers had gone out to put the blade socks on we got a call from ATC saying we were clear to go.
Shanghai had just got our original flight plan from Tianjin. We couldn’t go to Shanghai, we didn’t need to, but they did give us clearance to fly IFR through their Area. By the time we had ascertained that Wenzhou would be open at our ETA it was dark when we took off and this time with the mountains the minimum level was 3,000 metres, just over 9,800 ft. There was a long discussion with Shanghai control. He thought a 332 was an Airbus and he was trying to push us up to 7,000 metres. When he was corrected he could not believe that a helicopter was flying at that height, IFR and at night.
I thought about it to myself as well. In the RAF the maximum height without oxygen was 10,000 ft and on the QNH we were above that. Also we weren’t supposed to fly above 4,000 ft at night.
We were having to change our squawk quite often, more for identification than any other reason. Our track was taking us across the westerly routes from Shanghai and pointing directly at Taiwan. Apart from that it was uneventful until we were handed over to Wenzhou.
They wouldn’t answer. Wang then got on to the HF and started talking to the company ops in Shenzhen. They phoned the operation in Wenzhou and they confirmed that the airfield was all lit up. I pressed on and joined the procedure for the ILS and to my relief the ILS kicked in. At about five miles the runway lights started appearing from the gloom and still with no contact with the airfield I landed and turned off to the company hardstanding. After a few minutes all the airfield lights went out. I subsequently found out that all the air traffickers had gone home leaving a minion to turn out the lights after we had landed.
Two of the COHC engineers had British licences so they would look after the aircraft whilst I and my engineers checked into the airport hotel. It was farewell to Wang as he would stay in the company hotel down the road. It was too late for the hotel restaurant so we went to the ‘Garages’ by the airport entrance.
The Garages were a row of open fronted shop units now used as chop houses. The menu was simple. There was a table with all the raw materials they had laid out and you went from one to the other pointing out what you wanted cooking. Simple wooden tables and chairs were the furnishings and outside the single door at the back was the midden. That was where you treated the rats to a warm shower. The last time I had been there about a year previously we were entertained by a mother rat chasing her brood across the floor and carrying them back to her nest under the freezer. The food was, as before, brilliant and we retired for the night.
I have already posted, possibly on this thread, the next day’s flight down to Shenzhen. I can’t find it, off hand, but if anybody know where it is it would save me having to compose it again.
It was January, 6th Jan 1997 to be precise and Northern China was in the middle of winter. The temperature overnight would drop to minus 15 and in the morning it would rocket up to about plus 2. My engineers were coming with me so after the goodbyes we punched orft daun sauf.
There is no such thing as general air traffic in China. A minimum of twelve hours notice is required and one always flies airways under IFR. We climbed just south of Tianjin and we joined the airway at our allocated height of 2,500 metres, approx, 8,200 ft, which was the minimum flight level going south. The temperature at that height was about -5 but as the Siberian High was established there was no cloud up to that level. The scenery was miserable; miles and miles of paddy as far as one could see, all in orderly rectangular pattern.
After a couple hours or so the cloudbase dropped and we started to run into streaks of status. The reaction of the centre windscreen, unheated, was instantaneous and it immediately fogged out with ice. This was followed by the mirror supports and the door hinges building up wedges of the stuff. Poor old Wang was having kittens. He, with his fellow students, had been listening with horror to their Chinese Navy instructor reeling off the horrors and the certain death that icing would bring to helicopters. Which I thought was strange, as they were taught on Russian designed helicopters that were built for blundering through the tundra. I wasn’t worried, this was peanuts compared to the North Sea and the aircraft, still in North Sea fit, had all the gizmos; ice detectors, mirrors to check the intake chip baskets, etc etc. To make him feel better I splashed some water onto my flying glove, stuck it out of my window where the water immediately froze. I then brought it in and flicked my fingers to show how easily the ice came off. Relieved he came back from the cockpit roof and carried on with his navigating and I surreptitiously shoved my hand between my backside and the seat cushion to try to get some feeling back in my fingers.
We then had our clearance to descend towards Zhangxiouji. This was a small military airfield in the middle of absolutely nowhere. As we taxied in Wang was discussing something with ATC and merely said there was a problem. As we shut down everybody was staring at us with open mouths. We had flown with a COHC callsign and the last thing they had expected was a British registered aircraft with a Western captain. The ‘problem’ was fairly serious. Wang had filed, and it had been accepted for the days flying, but Zhangxiouji had not received the onward flight plan.
I left my engineers to sort out the refuel and I stood, ankle deep in air traffic’s dog-ends in the tower. Wang was on the blower trying to sort something out and I had a look around. Apart from the ATC staff there seemed little evidence of any military activity. At the end of the building there were two rows of H-5 (il26) bombers in an advanced state of disrepair and behind them were a clutch of Shenyang J-5s (Mig 17) in a similar condition. It indicated that it may have been a training base once upon a time but they had moved on. On the near horizon was what I took to be the local town. Bleak, grey, with few buildings above two floors. I thought that if we had to night stop here we would be lucky to find 0.5 star hotel, if at all.
Wang struck lucky! Shanghai would not accept us because of the twelve hour rule but Changzhou would. We might not be able to get any further but at least it was civilised. Without further ado, because there were no catering facilities and we were dying of starvation, we got airborne.
Changzhou was a mixed military and civil airport. Something I found out as I taxied past a row of H-5 (Tu-16) bombers. The aircraft were immaculate, as was the ground equipment; even the wheel nuts had been painted. I turned on to the hardstanding and there was one of the prettiest terminal buildings I had ever seen. It was built like a Chinese pavilion with flying ridges and in front was a moat with bridges to the gates. We decided to have lunch whilst the going was good and after a ridiculously cheap repast in a beautiful restaurant we went up to the tower to see what the state of play was.
Shanghai wasn’t playing ball and because they controlled the airway halfway to Xiamin we could not cross that either to get to Wenzhou. We spent the afternoon trying various combinations to get to Wenzhou but they were all blocked by the 12 hour rule. At about five I decided that we were going to have to night stop and just after the engineers had gone out to put the blade socks on we got a call from ATC saying we were clear to go.
Shanghai had just got our original flight plan from Tianjin. We couldn’t go to Shanghai, we didn’t need to, but they did give us clearance to fly IFR through their Area. By the time we had ascertained that Wenzhou would be open at our ETA it was dark when we took off and this time with the mountains the minimum level was 3,000 metres, just over 9,800 ft. There was a long discussion with Shanghai control. He thought a 332 was an Airbus and he was trying to push us up to 7,000 metres. When he was corrected he could not believe that a helicopter was flying at that height, IFR and at night.
I thought about it to myself as well. In the RAF the maximum height without oxygen was 10,000 ft and on the QNH we were above that. Also we weren’t supposed to fly above 4,000 ft at night.
We were having to change our squawk quite often, more for identification than any other reason. Our track was taking us across the westerly routes from Shanghai and pointing directly at Taiwan. Apart from that it was uneventful until we were handed over to Wenzhou.
They wouldn’t answer. Wang then got on to the HF and started talking to the company ops in Shenzhen. They phoned the operation in Wenzhou and they confirmed that the airfield was all lit up. I pressed on and joined the procedure for the ILS and to my relief the ILS kicked in. At about five miles the runway lights started appearing from the gloom and still with no contact with the airfield I landed and turned off to the company hardstanding. After a few minutes all the airfield lights went out. I subsequently found out that all the air traffickers had gone home leaving a minion to turn out the lights after we had landed.
Two of the COHC engineers had British licences so they would look after the aircraft whilst I and my engineers checked into the airport hotel. It was farewell to Wang as he would stay in the company hotel down the road. It was too late for the hotel restaurant so we went to the ‘Garages’ by the airport entrance.
The Garages were a row of open fronted shop units now used as chop houses. The menu was simple. There was a table with all the raw materials they had laid out and you went from one to the other pointing out what you wanted cooking. Simple wooden tables and chairs were the furnishings and outside the single door at the back was the midden. That was where you treated the rats to a warm shower. The last time I had been there about a year previously we were entertained by a mother rat chasing her brood across the floor and carrying them back to her nest under the freezer. The food was, as before, brilliant and we retired for the night.
I have already posted, possibly on this thread, the next day’s flight down to Shenzhen. I can’t find it, off hand, but if anybody know where it is it would save me having to compose it again.
Guest
Posts: n/a
Geriaviator,
Grand to see you back, and congratulations on a good job well done (on you !). As you see, the pot is now bubbling nicely: you'll have a bit of catching up to do.
My Swan song had to come one day, but the old bird has a few squawks still in him.
Now don't go putting your name down for the Marathon or anything like that. Take it easy ! Play yourself in gently ! (Good men are scarce - there aren't many of us left).
Regards to you and to your wife, Danny.
Grand to see you back, and congratulations on a good job well done (on you !). As you see, the pot is now bubbling nicely: you'll have a bit of catching up to do.
My Swan song had to come one day, but the old bird has a few squawks still in him.
Now don't go putting your name down for the Marathon or anything like that. Take it easy ! Play yourself in gently ! (Good men are scarce - there aren't many of us left).
Regards to you and to your wife, Danny.
Guest
Posts: n/a
Fareastdriver,
What a wonderful start ! I can see that we're all in for a real treat with your future Posts, so keep up with the Good work - for we are "all ears".
I'm a complete stranger as far as helicopters are involved (and never flown in one even as a passenger), so my comments will have to be simple. But, generally, what was your impression of the skill standard of the F/Os you worked with vis-a-vis their American and European counterparts ? (please do not reply if it would put your visa at risk !) And did you do much fixed-wing flying out there, or was it all helicopter ? (perhaps I'd do better to wait and see !)
Thank you again for a view into a corner of the aviation world which is for most of us completely unknown.
Cheers, Danny.
What a wonderful start ! I can see that we're all in for a real treat with your future Posts, so keep up with the Good work - for we are "all ears".
I'm a complete stranger as far as helicopters are involved (and never flown in one even as a passenger), so my comments will have to be simple. But, generally, what was your impression of the skill standard of the F/Os you worked with vis-a-vis their American and European counterparts ? (please do not reply if it would put your visa at risk !) And did you do much fixed-wing flying out there, or was it all helicopter ? (perhaps I'd do better to wait and see !)
Thank you again for a view into a corner of the aviation world which is for most of us completely unknown.
Cheers, Danny.
I have found the post from about a year ago. It was an abbreviated version so this time you are going to suffer the whole hog.
I had flown from Wenzhou to Shenzhen before. Down the airway to Xiamin for lunch and onwards via Shantou, where we would leave the airways and proceed directly to out heliport. The Chinese engineers had done the after flight and had valeted the aircraft. I had decided that wearing my best uniform with all the gold rings would create the best impression at airports so I travelled in that. Jing and I, my engineers plus a Chinese engineer who was returning to Shenzhen then took off in this gleaming jewel of an aircraft.
The airways south of Wenzhou are quite severe as you are passing Taiwan. Defections were always the risk; an Air China captain had taken his 737 there about the same time and it was absolutely imperative to fly along the centre line. Any deviation to the east would raise a warning and any further divergence would make you the centre of attraction of the PLAAF. The Chinese airliners, at that time not equipped with satnav, would ensure that they were flying along the western side of the airways always secure in the knowledge that their male air stewards were armed.
There is a ridge of mountains down the East coast of China cut by rivers draining the hinterland. The flat areas were put over to paddy but once the ground started rising the ripples of terracing would show. The airway did not go direct to Xiamin owing to proximity of Taiwan and also the Nationalist held island just offshore so you passed abeam, turned towards the airfield and entered the procedure.
Xiamin used to be known by Europeans as Amoy. It is where Hakka is spoken and where the Chinese in Singapore hail from. It was one the first four Special economic Zones it had prospered to an outstanding degree. Now it is regarded as one of the best cities to live in China. The airport was magnificent, even more so now, and after confirming our onward flight plan we retired for lunch.
Because we were carrying a Chinese engineer it was now an official CHOC flight. This meant that Jing had a big wad of cash to cover expenses en-route, especially lunch. Comments like, ‘that’s no good, it’s not expensive enough’ were banded about. We didn’t go overboard but I did enjoy my lobster. After lunch we gathered together and went to the aircraft. We called up Xiamin Ground for start clearance; it was refused, there is a delay.
We tried again in ten minutes with the same answer. Not having a ground power unit plugged in Jing and I left everybody in the aircraft and went up seven flights to the air traffic control room. It was explained to us that the PLAAF had called a no notice exercise and all the airspace over Shantou below 5,000 meters was closed.
It wasn’t new. I had been stuck offshore for hours because my return airspace had been shut off by some exercise or other. However, they had always finished at 17.00 hrs because it was time for dinner. On that basis I expected to leave at that time so I went back with some more of Jing’s money and dispatched then to the terminal restaurant.
It was tactful to stay in the tower and the staff took the opportunity to practise their conversational and procedural English on me. There were quite a lot of them. They were controlling arrivals, departures plus the airways traffic from Wehzou to Shantou. They seemed to work in staggered thirty minutes shifts, retiring to the back of the room for a chat and a drink. Occasionally there would be a rapid changeover of seats when an aircraft came on frequency requiring an English speaking controller. Like all offices, workplaces and sometimes cockpits in China at the time visibility was fairly restricted in cigarette smoke.
We kept badgering away trying to get a clearance but the PLA were having none of it. It was now getting late and the spectre of yet another possible night stop was appearing. Our gallant band had returned optimistically to the aircraft and we went down to appraise then of the situation. The Chinese engineer was more concerned as he was returning to Shenzhen because his father was ill. There was a long conversation between him and Jing ending with Jing handing him a wad of money.
I thought nothing more of it and we went back up to the tower. It was now past 18.00 hrs and still no sign of the airspace being opened. In fact ATC were sure that it was going to be closed all night. I was just about to call it a day when our Chinese engineer came in with a slab of Coke and a carton of Marlborough. Jing took them off him and started handing them around the room. Five minutes later the one I assumed was SATCO came in with an enroute chart with a track pencilled in direct from Xiamin to a Shenzhen approach procedure entry point. This was apparently a ‘special route’ that had been cleared for us to use. Jing worked out the times, we put in the flight plan and twenty minutes later we launched into the night.
I have no idea what the scenery was like. It was dark and there were not a lot of lights. The dinners that COHC had treated the staff of Shenzhen ATC paid off. We undertook two or three scheduled arrivals followed by an ILS to the runway with a go around to 200 metres, then visual to the heliport.
Fortunately the heliport was situated between the Shenzhen to Guangzhou expressway and the Shenzhen Nantou eight lane connecting road. It made the unlit runway easier to find, assisted by Epsom who had a big illuminated sign on the roof their factory near the eastern end of the runway. The aircraft landing lights picked up the rest and we taxied in as the night shift came out of the hangar. It had been assumed that we were night stopping at Xiamin so everybody had gone home.
The offices were open and a look at the accommodation roster indicated that I was allocated 6-4 Hai Fei, an apartment we rented. The engineers had found our driver and we all bundled in to return to Shekou. We normally lived two to an apartment so I expected my sharer to be there. He wasn’t, so I couldn’t get in. I knocked up next door and a Chinese family answered. I explained with sign language as best as I could that I did not have a key and would they look after my bags whilst I found it. They seem to agree I and I left them there confident that I hadn’t asked them to help themselves to the contents.
We always had a standbye pilot so I went to his apartment and he didn’t have the keys but he did know I had the place to myself. There were only a couple of people left who would have the keys so I had to find them. There were not a lot of places to go to at that time of night in Shekou apart from the ‘dark side’. There then followed the spectacle of an airline pilot in full regalia going from girly bar to girly bar looking for somebody who had his keys and I had lots of offers.
I found my chief pilot in one of the lower temperature establishments and he had a set of keys for me. Back to the apartment building, next door gave me my kit back and I had finally arrived.
First Officer, now Captain Wang is the Chief Pilot at the Shanghai Search and Rescue Operation. First Officer, now Captain Jing is a Senior Pilot and Training Captain at Shenzhen.
Both of them are worth their weight in gold.
I had flown from Wenzhou to Shenzhen before. Down the airway to Xiamin for lunch and onwards via Shantou, where we would leave the airways and proceed directly to out heliport. The Chinese engineers had done the after flight and had valeted the aircraft. I had decided that wearing my best uniform with all the gold rings would create the best impression at airports so I travelled in that. Jing and I, my engineers plus a Chinese engineer who was returning to Shenzhen then took off in this gleaming jewel of an aircraft.
The airways south of Wenzhou are quite severe as you are passing Taiwan. Defections were always the risk; an Air China captain had taken his 737 there about the same time and it was absolutely imperative to fly along the centre line. Any deviation to the east would raise a warning and any further divergence would make you the centre of attraction of the PLAAF. The Chinese airliners, at that time not equipped with satnav, would ensure that they were flying along the western side of the airways always secure in the knowledge that their male air stewards were armed.
There is a ridge of mountains down the East coast of China cut by rivers draining the hinterland. The flat areas were put over to paddy but once the ground started rising the ripples of terracing would show. The airway did not go direct to Xiamin owing to proximity of Taiwan and also the Nationalist held island just offshore so you passed abeam, turned towards the airfield and entered the procedure.
Xiamin used to be known by Europeans as Amoy. It is where Hakka is spoken and where the Chinese in Singapore hail from. It was one the first four Special economic Zones it had prospered to an outstanding degree. Now it is regarded as one of the best cities to live in China. The airport was magnificent, even more so now, and after confirming our onward flight plan we retired for lunch.
Because we were carrying a Chinese engineer it was now an official CHOC flight. This meant that Jing had a big wad of cash to cover expenses en-route, especially lunch. Comments like, ‘that’s no good, it’s not expensive enough’ were banded about. We didn’t go overboard but I did enjoy my lobster. After lunch we gathered together and went to the aircraft. We called up Xiamin Ground for start clearance; it was refused, there is a delay.
We tried again in ten minutes with the same answer. Not having a ground power unit plugged in Jing and I left everybody in the aircraft and went up seven flights to the air traffic control room. It was explained to us that the PLAAF had called a no notice exercise and all the airspace over Shantou below 5,000 meters was closed.
It wasn’t new. I had been stuck offshore for hours because my return airspace had been shut off by some exercise or other. However, they had always finished at 17.00 hrs because it was time for dinner. On that basis I expected to leave at that time so I went back with some more of Jing’s money and dispatched then to the terminal restaurant.
It was tactful to stay in the tower and the staff took the opportunity to practise their conversational and procedural English on me. There were quite a lot of them. They were controlling arrivals, departures plus the airways traffic from Wehzou to Shantou. They seemed to work in staggered thirty minutes shifts, retiring to the back of the room for a chat and a drink. Occasionally there would be a rapid changeover of seats when an aircraft came on frequency requiring an English speaking controller. Like all offices, workplaces and sometimes cockpits in China at the time visibility was fairly restricted in cigarette smoke.
We kept badgering away trying to get a clearance but the PLA were having none of it. It was now getting late and the spectre of yet another possible night stop was appearing. Our gallant band had returned optimistically to the aircraft and we went down to appraise then of the situation. The Chinese engineer was more concerned as he was returning to Shenzhen because his father was ill. There was a long conversation between him and Jing ending with Jing handing him a wad of money.
I thought nothing more of it and we went back up to the tower. It was now past 18.00 hrs and still no sign of the airspace being opened. In fact ATC were sure that it was going to be closed all night. I was just about to call it a day when our Chinese engineer came in with a slab of Coke and a carton of Marlborough. Jing took them off him and started handing them around the room. Five minutes later the one I assumed was SATCO came in with an enroute chart with a track pencilled in direct from Xiamin to a Shenzhen approach procedure entry point. This was apparently a ‘special route’ that had been cleared for us to use. Jing worked out the times, we put in the flight plan and twenty minutes later we launched into the night.
I have no idea what the scenery was like. It was dark and there were not a lot of lights. The dinners that COHC had treated the staff of Shenzhen ATC paid off. We undertook two or three scheduled arrivals followed by an ILS to the runway with a go around to 200 metres, then visual to the heliport.
Fortunately the heliport was situated between the Shenzhen to Guangzhou expressway and the Shenzhen Nantou eight lane connecting road. It made the unlit runway easier to find, assisted by Epsom who had a big illuminated sign on the roof their factory near the eastern end of the runway. The aircraft landing lights picked up the rest and we taxied in as the night shift came out of the hangar. It had been assumed that we were night stopping at Xiamin so everybody had gone home.
The offices were open and a look at the accommodation roster indicated that I was allocated 6-4 Hai Fei, an apartment we rented. The engineers had found our driver and we all bundled in to return to Shekou. We normally lived two to an apartment so I expected my sharer to be there. He wasn’t, so I couldn’t get in. I knocked up next door and a Chinese family answered. I explained with sign language as best as I could that I did not have a key and would they look after my bags whilst I found it. They seem to agree I and I left them there confident that I hadn’t asked them to help themselves to the contents.
We always had a standbye pilot so I went to his apartment and he didn’t have the keys but he did know I had the place to myself. There were only a couple of people left who would have the keys so I had to find them. There were not a lot of places to go to at that time of night in Shekou apart from the ‘dark side’. There then followed the spectacle of an airline pilot in full regalia going from girly bar to girly bar looking for somebody who had his keys and I had lots of offers.
I found my chief pilot in one of the lower temperature establishments and he had a set of keys for me. Back to the apartment building, next door gave me my kit back and I had finally arrived.
First Officer, now Captain Wang is the Chief Pilot at the Shanghai Search and Rescue Operation. First Officer, now Captain Jing is a Senior Pilot and Training Captain at Shenzhen.
Both of them are worth their weight in gold.
Guest
Posts: n/a
Fareastdriver,
Lovely story!
Call it "Backsheesh", "Dash", "Bung", "Backhander", "Bribery" - it always worked, and always will. "The dinners that COHC had treated the staff of Shenzhen ATC paid off" says it all (and read regle (RIP) page 35, #692).
Apart from the "sea-green incorruptibles" of the West; over the rest of the World this is perfectly normal behaviour (indeed it is expected). We have to live with it.
Danny.
Lovely story!
Call it "Backsheesh", "Dash", "Bung", "Backhander", "Bribery" - it always worked, and always will. "The dinners that COHC had treated the staff of Shenzhen ATC paid off" says it all (and read regle (RIP) page 35, #692).
Apart from the "sea-green incorruptibles" of the West; over the rest of the World this is perfectly normal behaviour (indeed it is expected). We have to live with it.
Danny.
Guest
Posts: n/a
Danny's Last Lap.
The last few weeks slipped by. I went round saying my goodbyes. The Station Commander (name esapes me) and I had a long chat. I think he was coming up for retirement, too: we agreed that the pension battle (againt the old principle of "immutability") had largely been won.
But even so, they would not be increased in line with inflation (RPI) until we reached 55, when the compounded increases from 50 would be put into effect - but no back payment of these increases ! As inflation was really getting into its stride between '72 and '76, the effect was almost to double my pension when I reached 55.
Now, in homage to Cliff RIP (the onlie begetter of this Thread), and following the way he started it, I will put myself back in my old favourite Spitfire. I've landed and taxied onto the line:
The Marshaller signals me to turn into whichever "slot" he wants me in; I creep forward until raised crossed arms signal "Stop". Throttle closed, hold wheelbrakes on while he scurries round with the chocks and gives me the "thumb up". Release brakes, push mixture full forward into Idle Cut-off. Engine dies at once, and that momentary last acrid gasp from the exhaust stacks bites my nostrils. Switches off; close both fuel taps; unlock harness and chute quick release boxes; check oxygen and radio 'off'; lock AH and DI (if I hadn't done it before); and lastly GROUND/FLIGHT to 'Ground'.
All is quiet, apart from the dying whine of the gyros in the panel, and some occasional clicking of the cooling stacks. The Bowser has come up now.
Disconnect oxygen tube and radio plug, shrug off harnesses, open side flap and climb out onto wing. Lift my chute out and jump down. One of my ground crew is waiting: "Any snags, sir ?"...."No, it's fine, Jim" (broad grin).
I sling my chute over my shoulder and walk off. I shall not pass this way again.
There is no one in the Flight Office, the Authorisation Book lies open on Flight Commander's desk. "DCO" and initial. That's it.
Goodnight, chaps.
Danny42C.
All Good Things Must Come to an End.
(But we've not gone yet !)
But even so, they would not be increased in line with inflation (RPI) until we reached 55, when the compounded increases from 50 would be put into effect - but no back payment of these increases ! As inflation was really getting into its stride between '72 and '76, the effect was almost to double my pension when I reached 55.
Now, in homage to Cliff RIP (the onlie begetter of this Thread), and following the way he started it, I will put myself back in my old favourite Spitfire. I've landed and taxied onto the line:
The Marshaller signals me to turn into whichever "slot" he wants me in; I creep forward until raised crossed arms signal "Stop". Throttle closed, hold wheelbrakes on while he scurries round with the chocks and gives me the "thumb up". Release brakes, push mixture full forward into Idle Cut-off. Engine dies at once, and that momentary last acrid gasp from the exhaust stacks bites my nostrils. Switches off; close both fuel taps; unlock harness and chute quick release boxes; check oxygen and radio 'off'; lock AH and DI (if I hadn't done it before); and lastly GROUND/FLIGHT to 'Ground'.
All is quiet, apart from the dying whine of the gyros in the panel, and some occasional clicking of the cooling stacks. The Bowser has come up now.
Disconnect oxygen tube and radio plug, shrug off harnesses, open side flap and climb out onto wing. Lift my chute out and jump down. One of my ground crew is waiting: "Any snags, sir ?"...."No, it's fine, Jim" (broad grin).
I sling my chute over my shoulder and walk off. I shall not pass this way again.
There is no one in the Flight Office, the Authorisation Book lies open on Flight Commander's desk. "DCO" and initial. That's it.
Goodnight, chaps.
Danny42C.
All Good Things Must Come to an End.
(But we've not gone yet !)
Danny
Like every single one of your marvellous posts** - perfecto!
All the best and a thousand thanks
Jack
PS Actually 1671 of them as of now, but please don't stop there......
Like every single one of your marvellous posts** - perfecto!
All the best and a thousand thanks
Jack
PS Actually 1671 of them as of now, but please don't stop there......
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: Often in Jersey, but mainly in the past.
Age: 79
Posts: 7,807
Received 135 Likes
on
63 Posts
Danny42C ... how do you invariably manage to put a smile on my face when you post?
Thank you again for getting today off to a good start!
Thank you again for getting today off to a good start!
Danny42C:-
So the prospectus laid out in your first post (p114, some 2 years and 9 months ago) has been more than delivered in full. Thank you for taking us along that journey with you Danny, truly the long journey of everyman. For though it is obviously your story, I have felt from the start that it was also the story of your remarkable generation, faced with either confronting the evil that threatened freedom worldwide or simply submitting to it. As a generation you chose the former and each and everyone of you became a tiny cog in an enormous machine that spanned the globe. The machine prevailed, but only thanks to each and every cog doing its duty, doing its best.
So thank you for that Danny, and thank you for telling your tale in such an enjoyable and entertaining way. Above all thanks for the modesty in the telling which was such an integral part of your posts because it is clearly such an integral part of you. Again, a quality so typical of your generation...
This is my first Post: be gentle with me!
I've followed this Thread with delight and admiration since joining the ranks of the Geriatric Surfers five months ago. My daughter is instructing me -(how are the mighty fallen, it seems only yesterday that I was taking the stabilisers off her bike!). I'm not very good at this yet.
My pen name gives a clue, I can hear the groans: "Not another of these Arnold Scheme/B.F.T.S. characters". 'Fraid so. But seeing that another contributor might be welcome (and seeing the suggestion that the thread might be expanded from "Gaining your brevet in WWII" (made by Cliff, the "onlie begetter", and others, I've decided to put my oar in (if Mr Moderator will have me).
This is what I can put on the table:
26,000 words on training to OTU.
54,000 words on wartime India and dive bomber operations in Burma.
28,000 words on postwar RAF service.
Don't worry, it's not ready yet. I have to finish editing, then get it transferred from floppy disk onto a CD-Rom (it was produced on my faithful old "Starwriter"), then hope that some kind soul can tell me how to "park"
the lot somewhere where PPruners can reach it, (but nobody else).
Meanwhile, I suggest I feed in bite-sized chunks into this Thread, from time to time. What do you think?
I was born within sound of the "Bootle Bull". Cliff will tell you what that means. There must have been something in the air of Liverpool. I believe he hails from there, as did Reg (Requiescat in Pace). And Reg must have been at Blackpool Grammar School when I was at St. Joseph's College. I was in the First XV. I wonder...
I like Cliff's idea of a little old 'bon mot' to round it off.
You'll be all right on a big Station.
I've followed this Thread with delight and admiration since joining the ranks of the Geriatric Surfers five months ago. My daughter is instructing me -(how are the mighty fallen, it seems only yesterday that I was taking the stabilisers off her bike!). I'm not very good at this yet.
My pen name gives a clue, I can hear the groans: "Not another of these Arnold Scheme/B.F.T.S. characters". 'Fraid so. But seeing that another contributor might be welcome (and seeing the suggestion that the thread might be expanded from "Gaining your brevet in WWII" (made by Cliff, the "onlie begetter", and others, I've decided to put my oar in (if Mr Moderator will have me).
This is what I can put on the table:
26,000 words on training to OTU.
54,000 words on wartime India and dive bomber operations in Burma.
28,000 words on postwar RAF service.
Don't worry, it's not ready yet. I have to finish editing, then get it transferred from floppy disk onto a CD-Rom (it was produced on my faithful old "Starwriter"), then hope that some kind soul can tell me how to "park"
the lot somewhere where PPruners can reach it, (but nobody else).
Meanwhile, I suggest I feed in bite-sized chunks into this Thread, from time to time. What do you think?
I was born within sound of the "Bootle Bull". Cliff will tell you what that means. There must have been something in the air of Liverpool. I believe he hails from there, as did Reg (Requiescat in Pace). And Reg must have been at Blackpool Grammar School when I was at St. Joseph's College. I was in the First XV. I wonder...
I like Cliff's idea of a little old 'bon mot' to round it off.
You'll be all right on a big Station.
So thank you for that Danny, and thank you for telling your tale in such an enjoyable and entertaining way. Above all thanks for the modesty in the telling which was such an integral part of your posts because it is clearly such an integral part of you. Again, a quality so typical of your generation...
Danny's first post
Today I looked at danny42C's first post. October 2012. Aged 92. Danny's most recent post - October 2014. Still aged 92. Birthday November. Explanation, por favor.
Last edited by gzornenplatz; 11th Oct 2014 at 21:45. Reason: Smelling pissteak