Page #3 Tales of an Old Aviator...The Big Chill

Post by **avcanada** » Fri Feb 20, 2004 2:57 pm

Author Tales of an Old Aviator...The Big Chill
Zatopec

Joined: Jan 26, 2002
Posts: 280
From: Hyperspace
Posted: 2003-04-07 21:41
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Can't wait for the next story!!!

I hope there will be many more!!!

Zatopec
_________________
La seule place où le succès vient avant le travail, c'est dans le dictionnaire.

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Sawmill Broad

Joined: Apr 08, 2003
Posts: 6 Posted: 2003-04-08 09:02
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Great stories Duke! Keep it up eh! Beat the big C myself once. You can too.

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Yak Driver

Joined: Apr 08, 2003
Posts: 19
From: Vancouver
Posted: 2003-04-08 16:32
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Duke,

I'm sorry we didn't get a bunch of airplanes up your way over the weekend. Just got the call from Ottawa, one of the other guys has a sore back. Yours truly gets to go and replace him in Eritrea... Unless you'd like to take my place

Give us some stories to read, while we are bored out of our skulls on the dark continent!

Take care

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-10 15:04
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Thank you all who phoned ... I am so blessed with friends .... it helps my resolve.

Also, I am on a home I.V Chemo program so the computor becomes a soft link to outside. I get sick lots now so no phone calls for a week please old mates.

This next story will explain a lot to those who know me. It is so important to the big story that I made a precis from a chapter in the book so it fits my pilot friends' short attention span.

PICTURE THIS...

I sure was excited after the training mission on the Pilatus Porter learning to do rocket passes in order to lay smoke onto a target for the inbound Phantoms.. However, my instructor found out later in Vietnam by getting killed along with another buddy of mine just along for the ride, just how poor an airplane it was. He even complaind to me that the Porter was too slow on approach and
was an easy target. 143 bullet holes.
But it sure was fun doing Beta approaches into jungle strips on mountainside....and yes! That part was accurate in the movie Air America, where he landed on a slash on the side of the hill.. I later ran into Air America guys in Thailland...boy...what a skanky bunch.
The Porter could be a killer too. If you forgot to reset the trim after a full flap approach you were soon to be a smoking hole....small hole too....vertical.

I was to go back onto the C180 Birddog for a stint so I could go the Fighter Base , Williamstown. There I had med some flying in a Vampire although I had to have a RAAF pilot with me.I was to see close support rocket passes and then some aeros for fun. I think we had that little fart-cart up to four one oh.
I felt safer doing this Birdog stuff than the plan to send us to Viet Nam to replace infantry officers like Sharp, who had been killed.
But some university friends had given me a book at a party one night that changed my life forever. It was by Wilfred G Burchett and titled " VIETNAM Inside story of the guerilla war." He travelled with the the Viet Cong for a couple of years and exposed some disgusting US poliices as to how the war was to be run. From about 1965 onwards the US moved poputations into so called fortified enclaves, protected by South Vietnames Army troops and then they bombed the shit out of everything with B52's from Guam. They killed cows, pigs and old folks who couldn't leave their land. Then came the MY LY massacre. We heard of it way before the news media from some of our Aussie troops over there.
Australia knew the war was toast early in the game.
But I had a job to do, even though I disagreed with the war now.

I strode across the road to the officer's mess for lunch. I was a proud young Lieutenant with the earned wings and full of piss'n'vinegar.

I was a little late so some old Colonels and Majors were in the anti-room reading the latest dailly.. and ... they were guffawing and passing papers around feveriously and paying particular attention to the picture on the front page.There was a picture of a forty one year old woman outside the police station. The headline read something like.

WOMAN NARROWLY ESCAPES DEATH.CAUGHT IN BED BY WIFE WHO KILLED HUSBAND WITH SHOTGUN.A SHOT AIMED AT HER FAILED TO FIRE.

I stared increduously....

It was my mother.

More to follow .... over

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Sawmill Broad

Joined: Apr 08, 2003
Posts: 6 Posted: 2003-04-10 18:24
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That's an incredible story Duke. what happened?

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endless

Joined: Jan 10, 2002
Posts: 798
From: nuclear winter
Posted: 2003-04-10 20:28
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. . . . .

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-12 18:17
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I am cautiously proud of the support given to the US by Australia for the purpose of ridding the world of an arsehole.

A little history.

The US clearly saved Australia from being over-run by the Japs in WW2. I had some uncles die fighting on the Kokoda Trail prior to taking Port Moresby ..... Australia was on the horizon and soon to be under the "Rising Sun".

I, nor my brother knew that we had been abandoned by our mother at around two years old. We didn't know because we were being raised by my Grandmother who we called Mum. A stranger visited occasionaly who I later got to call Dad, but I didn't know why.

One morning, before dawn we were awoken and with bags packed we were off to the Railway Station where I was fascinated by the "live" steam train that was to take us on a two day trip North to live with my Dad and new stepmother. We were black from coaldust and tried sleeping on a hard leather bench. A soldier came aboard and upon seeing our discomfort, put his great - coat on the luggage rack and made a bed for us. It was comfortable and cozy , he was my hero.
Arrival up North was not a pleasant affair. My new stepmother greeted us with a look on her face that looked like someone was holding a dog turd under her nose. I knew we were not welcome. I found out that my Grandmother was ill and was soon to die. It was a sad day. And then things got worse. My brother died while getting his tonsils out.

So off to boarding school for me ..... turned out to be a pleasant experience even though we had to go to Chapel every day and we wore uniforms. The Brotherhood of St Barnabas. We were nearly self sufficient with our small dairy and hog pens.We had about six horses and we all learned to ride. We rotated through a roster of milker , hog slopper, choir and the most hated, that of server. We had to dress up in little frilly gowns and gong a bloody bell at the appropriate time during the latin moaning of the monks.
Boy Scouts was a hoot as they trucked us to Magnetic Island where we had a bay to ourselves. Fishing, surfing, war games ...life was fun and I had a lot of friends.
For school holidays, I would talk someone into taking me home with them ... I hated my home.
So I got to go stay on cattle and sheep ranches and hunting and adventure.
I was also at the top of the class in Grade Ten. Another bombshell. My Dad couldn't afford more boarding school but had arranged a job for me in a bank. Well ! Shit! How long do you think I lasted there...coming to work with black eyes from Rugby and floozies phoning all the time and stalking my gorgeous frame.
I find out now that my Dad is putting himself through Med School.... I'm on my own.
So here I am in the Army. I was bartering my own judgement for the pleasure of being surrounded by comrades.I graduated as a second Lieutenant and while all the graduates had their rank pinned on at the Gala ball, usually by girlfriend, wife or mother, I was pinned by a floozie.

The war in Vietnam had taken some dangerous turns and was not going well for the US and we knew it. Australia wanted out and it took a change of government to do it, but it was a slow process. We were now bored and we flew so seldom that we usually went a little crazy given the oppurtunity. We were the masters of low flying, especially at night. These dangerous tactics were never used in combat.

I had the old One Eighty flat out as I skimmed the surface of the Hawksbury River. I approached Dangar Island so time to pull up...and I did. WHAP!WHAP! Also a spongy jolt that nearly put me through the winshield... SPARKS...it lurched drunkenly as I struggled for control....it was still flying so I struggled back to base. The prop had hit one wire and then it burned a scar under the fuselage, another wire had hit the tire and slid up the strut before breaking and the third took the top of the tail off.
I had a feeling there would be some paperwork coming my way.

More to follow....over

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-12 18:41
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COURT MARTIAL

Other pilots had had similar infractions and the punishment usually consisted of a loss of seniority. That's pretty savage when you are already at the bottom of the officer ranks with a war shutting down.

I could have legal council but I opted for an Army Lawyer who stunk of gin and whose eyes were way too close together. He was a moron....perfect.

I was marched in by Lt Tub Matheson and I laid my sword on the table in front of two majors, two colonels and a General, The Judge Advocate General in fact. They all had the big red noses earned by years of Army service.

I recognized one of the colonels ... The Beekeeper we called him. He could often be seen crouching on the lawn with a magnifying glass bleating "It's one of mine... one of mine." He raised bees. He was ugly too. His ears looked like wingnuts and I had seen better hair on bacon.
I stood ramrod straight at attention in all my splendour.

"Wootenant, you have been charged with conduct contoowary to good order and militawy discipwin..in that you wied in the wogbook of your aircwaft ... birdstwike you say...pweposterous suh, how do you pweed, suh?
Tub knew it was coming and out of the corner of my eye I caught his wry smile. I paused..then
Says I
"Well you see sir, this little bird was sitting in this power line , see ..."
Some officers had trouble choking back but the beekeeper was furious.. it was known I had done impressions of him at the mess much to everyones delight.

You, suh, are to be dismissed from the Armed Forces .... and so on.
It turned out that they accepted my resignation so I got all my pension back with which I bought a Jaguar and went surfing and mowing lawns for a year.
I was yet to embark on an adventure of a lifetime.

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Howlin' Mad Murdock

Joined: Apr 03, 2003
Posts: 4
From: hell and back again...
Posted: 2003-04-13 02:17
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Duke - thankyou. Thankyou for inspiring us, entertaining us, and reminding us of the savage beauty of life. You have a wonderful way of weaving a story that makes this thread my personal favorite. I salute you for your courage, and admire that in the face af adversity you have chosen not only to overcome it, but to do so smiling - sharing with us some very personal stories of better or at least crazier days.
I hope that as you take these trips down memory lane, it gives you the inspiration, the energy, and the great big smile that you bring to all of us who admire you so.
Once you're back up to full speed, which I pray is soon, I want to be the first to place an order for the book you're going to write.

In the words of another great man, Winston Churchill: "If you're going through hell... keep going."

Godspeed, Duke.

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182driver

Joined: Jul 14, 2002
Posts: 75 Posted: 2003-04-13 05:43
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Mmmmmmm....Floozies.

I enjoy your stories Duke, and wish you all the best. I laughed out loud at the description of your grandma with a turd under her nose, and smiled when you spoke of your gorgeous frame. Does that make me a poof? No, of course not.

<

[ This Message was edited by: 182driver on 2003-04-13 05:59 ]

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-13 16:03
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Right now I am on a good week ... free from the chemical warfare being exacted on my body and mind. It was hell ..... three down, nine more to go.

BUDWORM

A surealistic experience.

The Budworm Project was one of the most exciting , well paid, dangerous projects one could participate in.

Imagine thirty five TBM Avengers scorching all over New Brunswick operating from camps that at times became cesspools of lies and tales of daring-doo.

We sat around on our bunkbeds in the rain, huddled about the diesel heater .... muddy floors.. warm Moosehead .... and stories.
There were Swiss, Hungarians, South Africans , New Zealanders, Aussies and Americans.
There was this large jolly chap from Montana who wore glasses over his contacts .... and he was the leader of Donkey Team. Ray was famous from last years adventure in that he came to the end of the spray line at Oromocto Lake and went into the steep turn over the glassy lake and boofed a wingtip... ker-fuckin'-splash he belly's her in.
Ray isn't much of a swimmer so he strikes out for shore.... get away from the plane because the US NAVY says a TBM stays afloat for two minutes...maybe...
Well as the pointer planes circled overhead Ray was seen sinking ....didn't look like he would make it... till his feet touched and he stood up. He was only in four feet of water and the TBM sat there half dry... shit we laughed... Then Bill Demming decided to tell us of his first flight in the TBM.
It's two thousand horsepower you know ... lots of torque on take off..tailwheel up and you get a big swing requiring huge amounts of right boot.

Bill

Weeell ! Ah guess it was mah turn for take off.
I went through the checklist by memory because the last I saw of the checklist it dissapeared into the oily bowells of the big TBM... can't be reached.

The strip was short so I layed the power to her real quick , like, she veered to the left but shoulda stayed straight coz the tailwheel shoulda been locked... shit! shoulda...wasn't.
I reached down and locked the tailwheel but I had to let go the throttle and she bled back now the swing is the other way... shoulda tightened the friction, I guess.
By now I took out a coupla cone markers and with full application of power I was hurtling to the other side of the runway... coupla cones maybe ...it was wild
The end of the strip is coming fast... maybe abort.... maybe go...so I go and lift her off too early and the tail smacks down as she stalled back hard .. through the fence I went.......... THEN I LOST CONTROL OF THE AIRCRAFT!!!!!!!!!! says Bill

Shit we laughed......

Many more of those to go.

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endless

Joined: Jan 10, 2002
Posts: 798
From: nuclear winter
Posted: 2003-04-13 16:40
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"then i lost control of the aircraft"

that line is truly priceless.

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Zatopec

Joined: Jan 26, 2002
Posts: 280
From: Hyperspace
Posted: 2003-04-13 20:51
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HAHAHAHAHA!!!!

More, more, more!!!!
_________________
La seule place où le succès vient avant le travail, c'est dans le dictionnaire.

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Sawmill Broad

Joined: Apr 08, 2003
Posts: 6 Posted: 2003-04-14 10:01
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Way too funny! More please!

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-14 11:22
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Well folks , today I feel normal ....

If there is one point I'd like to make , it's this >>>>

To feel normal is utterly divine.

Even though my hair is three quarters gone and my head is as red as a baboon's arse , I am still prettier than most of you. I also have to blow dry me arseh*le ... tender or what?

The next story is amazing in that there is no cliff hanger ending .... or is there?

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Sawmill Broad

Joined: Apr 08, 2003
Posts: 6 Posted: 2003-04-14 18:53
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To be able to say you're feeling normal at any point during chemo is pretty divine for sure! The hair loss thing/sore head is a drag but I guess if you're prettier than the rest of us.... no worries eh? At least if you're feeling better you'll get busy and write more.....

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skybomb

Joined: Apr 16, 2003
Posts: 6 Posted: 2003-04-16 22:21
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Duke,

These stories are awesome! I laughed, I cried, I generally just shite my pants. As a student pilot I was told by a good friend to always treat an airplane like a lady so that when you have to ask her for something she will oblige. Someday I will one day graduate to flying whores (who like to do it many different positions). Thank you for the inspiration! And I’ll be in line when you are doing a book signing at chapters!!!

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Beaver Driver

Joined: Oct 17, 2001
Posts: 80
From: Sask
Posted: 2003-04-20 03:56
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Hey Duke.

I seem to remember way back on this string you mentioned the sound of ten Avengers (20 000 HP) warming up on the ramp being the best sound ever. Well I've never herd that, but 4 CL 215's (16 000 HP) sounds pretty sweet too.

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g0five

Joined: Nov 03, 2001
Posts: 870
From: the depths of insanity
Posted: 2003-04-20 11:28
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nothing like the sound of a 212 going by..

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Nark

Joined: Oct 27, 2002
Posts: 97
From: Canada.
Posted: 2003-04-20 18:57
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Followed by a Firecat, or 4.

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Snoopy

Joined: Oct 17, 2001
Posts: 437 Posted: 2003-04-21 06:44
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Now THAT's something I'd like to get my hands on.....

There was a story in one of the "I Learned About Flying From That" books about a guy that took off with the wings folded - not once, but TWICE! from an aircraft carrier.
The first time might be an oops, but the second?

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Nark

Joined: Oct 27, 2002
Posts: 97
From: Canada.
Posted: 2003-04-21 20:10
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Snoopy, you ever see Delmar Bengiman (SP?) fly his Gee Bee racer?

Thats some airplane, if you can call it that.

Cheers.
_________________
"But I didn't do it!" -Big Josh.

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Brian

Joined: Nov 22, 2001
Posts: 722
From: From: From: ^C
Posted: 2003-04-21 20:55
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Last I heard, the FAA had pulled Delmar's pilot certificate. I guess the paperpushers figured they knew how to fly a Gee Bee better than he did!

Funny, I never saw a single FAA or DOT inspector fly Hoover's airshow routine, either. I guess I just don't see the Big Bureaucratic Picture.

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Linecrew

Joined: Jan 02, 2003
Posts: 60
From: Canada
Posted: 2003-04-22 10:29
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Not to disrespect Duke and his post but..

If you ever saw the way that guy flew his GEE BEE Racer you would understnd why the FAA was a tad concerned. It looked like a somewhat unhappy compromise of highly skilled pilot and crazy lunatic.

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-22 21:31
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Tomorrow I am on the Bullet Train to Hell.

Chemo .... #4

At least today I get to reflect on a life that I would not trade or change for anything...... I made a lot of mistakes .... you are yet to read of them .... spectacular mistakes.... but ALL have a lesson.

THE CHOOK CAPER
The Viet Nam war was over for Australia ... we had pulled out.... pilots everywhere .. no jobs.

I tired of life on the beach. Mowing lawns till 1PM for some scratch, surf till dusk then off to the surf bar to pick up glasses till closing for about three bucks an hour. The benefit was you got to scope out a floozie where, after a little horizontal refreshment, one got a shower and maybe some laundry done. Chauvinism was alive and well back then.
I was lucky that my cousin was a Bristol Freighter captain so I got a job as a swamper. We flew drill equipment to the Gulf country, racehorses to Melbourne, strawberries to Sydney, and my favourite job, flying huge prawns from the Gulf to Cairns , twenty four hours a day. The prawns came ashore from the trawlers in WW2 army amphibous vehicles called "ducks". They came out of the water and drove straight to the airport that had NO facilities. Supper! I took a garbage can lid and drained some salted bilgewater into it and lit a fire.... boiled prawns as big as yer fist.
I was waiting for the job on the Turbo Aztec doing air photo survey in New Guinea. I was a shoe in as I had Photo experience in the Army and had been to New Guinea before.
I finally got the job and flew to New Guinea in the Aztec.I got real good at it...climbing to 210 over unbelievable beautiful country.We took off at dawn and climbing out we would see the native grass huts along the 5000 foot ridges and they all looked like they were on fire as smoke seeped through the grass roofs but we learned later that they burned pig shit all night to keep the mossies away. The other company airplane in the highland town of Goroka was a turbo B56 Baron . Picture this! Two 385hp Beach Duke engines on a Baron fuselage. Shit! It climbed like a Mustang. HOOOOOWEEEEE!
One day, an engineer was trouble shooting a wing tank mounted fuel pump...tanks dry... switch on.... ka-fuckin' BOOM. Blew the wing off. That pilot, senior to me, grabbed my plane and I was pooched. Again!
Fortunately, I had charmed the local Australian entrepanuers some of whom owned coffee plantations, native trade stores, butcher shops, hotel managers. I felt that I fit in here but no bloody job.
A young bloke called Peter Miller had a C182 and a private licence and owned trade stores, thirty coffee buying trucks, butcher shop and wholesale seafood business. He supplied seafood to the big tourist hotels but couldn't get enough as there were no roads to the coast.
I awoke from a brutal hangover that would have felled an ox, to Peters' wife splashing water on me to get up for my first flight. Shit! I musta got a job last night.

More to follow...over.

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-22 23:15
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Sorry Guys but I got ripped off!
I typed a long story then Avcanada asked for my password again.... Except there is nowhere to type it.
I coppied it but now I have to get it into the system somewhere.

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-22 23:22
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I was in Paradise.

Everybody had tons of loot.... and loot they did.
We all drove tax free Alpha Romeos, Mercedes and all imports. Plantation life .... nothing like it. I had a houseboy who called me Masta even when I begged him not to. If you didn't have a houseboy you couldn't get through your front gate.... " Masta... me like wok. Me Catholic.". Perhaps twenty boys every day, wanting work. Six bucks a week.... you got tea in bed, laundry and a clean house for that.
And the flying.....divine and dangerous. We lived at five thousand ASL and flew to strips as high as eight thousand.. spectacular gorges and waterfalls that never reached the ground.
We were rich. Coffee was at a high price due to the frost in Brazil. We would fly to a place like Karimui, a strip carved on the side of a volcano. It was a leper colony but the type where it was not contageous. They got it from eating human flesh and developed a disease called Grilly.
There was only one white guy there and he was a patrol officer. ie Judge, lawyer, doctor , administrator etc. armed too and had some barefoot native constables.
We would walk fifteen minutes through the jungle to the trade store with the boys carrying the cargo where we wouild do a stock check then take the cash to the airport. There, the natives would have bought their coffee for us to buy and fly out, heavilly laden with a cash crop and bags of loot.
We upgraded to and old Aztec VH-BPW. I was shit and I dressed the part. Khaki duds and shirt and elastic sided Aussie riding boots.
I flew to Lae for maintainence and went to the flying club. New Guinea was a pilots heaven.... hardly any roads and lots of airstrips. Cessna 402's, Barons, Twotters, 206's, Islanders and 185's.
The airline guys had fun too, flying F27's VFR into uphill strips at six thousand feet ASL.
And me in my scabby old Aztec.
So I got invited to the TAA Airline mess where stewardess, called hosties back then, were housed in little tropical bungalows with a pool and a bar. I traded tales of daring do for some tropical romping in Paradise.We rode hard back in those days... at full gallop!
I flew lobsters, croc skins, artifacts, calves, coffee, trade goods and people on wild adventures.
Once we chartered a DC3, put a jazz band aboard and took a pod of hosties to the Kar Kar Ball on a coffee plantation on a tropical isle. Lots of loot, fast cars, babes and oft painful
penicillan shots.
One day I was approaced by a bloke called "Fred".
"Do you do 'jobs'? " he asked... I sensed it would be .
"Well maybe" says I, "What is the cargo?"
"Can't say" says he. "@#$! off" says I.
" I heard you're the bloke who did the dog charters." He had me dead to rights. Indeed I had. You see independance was coming so a lot of whites were planning to leave. Usually they had pet dogs and these weren't allowed into Australia until they had served six months quarantine in another country...expensive eh? (You see Australia was rabies free).And is little Fluffy going to remember you after six months in England.
So I would wait till about six expatriates
got six muts together and I would fly low across the straits to Cape York where another C402 awaited the awakening cargo. I had one awake from his induced sleep and he started to howl as I gave a false position report on HF so all New Guinea heard it. In the mess , I couldn't keep my mouth shut as I told these tales and my plane became known as Bravo Papa Woof . People were rich and paid big bucks.
So Fred knew I was imaginative.
We parried back and forth and I held my ground. I had to know what the cargo
was and that was that.No drugs...NO BLOODY WAY!
After a pause he said, "Chicken Eggs".
I howled as I walked away.
"Wait!" he said as he followed, "I'll prove it"
He told me an amazing story.
I WAS IN!

More to follow....over

[ This Message was edited by: Duke Elegant on 2003-04-22 23:30 ]

[ This Message was edited by: Duke Elegant on 2003-04-23 01:44 ]

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Duke Elegant

Joined: Nov 28, 2002
Posts: 264 Posted: 2003-04-23 01:39
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Fred was an executive with Mother's Choice Chickens. Mother's Choice used to be Australia's #1 supplier of chooks.
They were now #3.
Scientists in the US had engineereed a chook that ate less and grew fat at twice the rate of normal chooks.
Australia had VERY strict quarantine laws .. I had run out of muts to smuggle ... so now it was to be eggs?
I asked Fred how the competetion had got eggs in from the US.
"Same way we plan to do it" says he. If we don't do it we are sunk.
I sensed an oppurtunity to get a free trip to OZ. "I want to see the plant" say I, "just to
be sure."
They flew me to Sydney and put me up in s Cross at a fine hotel with an expense account. I toured the factory and was convinced that I was their man although it was hard to drag me away from the floozies I had stabled. Hard I rode....Hard!
Back in New Guinea, I had a plan to formulate. I had to set up fuel caches, come up with a dummy flight plan and fly low ... bloody low ... to get into Northern Australia and land at an abandoned WW2 airstrip. You could not fly anywhere in New Guinea without full radio reporting on HF so I had all my fake calls rehearsed.
The coast of Australia is very well patrolled to catch Asian fishermen, bird smugglers taking thousands of parrots offshore and they had military reasons to patrol. They used Nomads and the chief pilot was none other than my cousin. He knew of my mercenary lifestyle and had heard of Bravo Papa Woof, dog charters.
It was risky. The eggs had a mere seventeen days to get from the USA to incubators in Oz. Mother's choice bought a high speed offshore cruiser to be skippered by a friend of mine and after the "job" he was to keep the boat.
He was to go from New Caledonia to Rennel Island where I was to land on the grassy strip and fill the Aztec up with chook eggs.I went down to Guadacanal in the Aztec with a large wad of cash and played the role of a rich dude cruising WW2 battlefields. My biggest mistake was getting hooked with a hostie who wanted to come along for a ride.... a babe too...had to turn her down.
I got a coded telegram....it was time. I flew across the ocean to tiny Rennel Island where I got mobbed by the local children from the Catholic mission....and a priest asking "What are you doing here?" I left and flew out over the ocean looking for the boat that should be half a day out. No boat. I flew back to Guadacanal and phoned Fred. Apparently the boat lost an engine out of Noumea and they returned and threw the eggs at a cliff face muttering .."One thousand, two thousand" that was the price per egg so far.
I got to relax in Guadacanal until another whole shipment was arranged. I got a change of hostie every night as I lay about the pool. I also came up with a bullshit story for the priest that we were going to populate another island with great chooks and could he get help with the loading. So when the boat arrived, the priest and his boys packed the load for me so I dropped a wad for their trouble and fled.
I flew four hours to my fuel stash at Baimuru all the while muttering on the radio that I was in the circuit at Karimui and off to Chimbu. I fuelled at this unbelievable place, the subject of another chapter. It was monsoon season so low flying was the norm. But there seemed to be unusual Nomad traffic in the North. I heard it on HF.Shit! My cousin was on to me, thinks I. I had to somehow cross the strait at Thursday Island and pretend I was going somewhere else. I hoped they weren't staked out at Iron Range, my abandoned airstrip where a Cessna 414 awaited me... flown by another out of work ex Army Pilot.
I approached the straits..low..it rained hard.. sure enough, a Nomad slowly loitering.
I had to think fast. I went up into the green CB and the rain pounded ....deafening...the plane leaked and shook like crazy in the turbulence....I gunned her using valuable fuel... I didn't have any on the mainland... I had to get back to Daru in New Guinea.
I timed it so I flew in cloud above the Nomad and then I broke cloud and headed back to New Guinea...180 degree turn .. he saw me and gave chase. He thought I was smuggling shit North to New Guinea. As soon as he was on my tail I upped her
into the shit and rain and did another 180 heading back to OZ. I flew in the thunderous green murk till I felt out of his vis range and cloud broke again.
On to Iron Range where my mate nervously awaited... he didn't have a reason to be on an abandoned strip in a 414 now full of chook eggs. I was empty now and took off for Daru where I landed on fumes. I filled full of fuel and took on 1500lbs of lobster tails and flew it to Goroka and made another coupla grand.
The old Aztec's engines were tired, the gear kept drooping and she needed care.It stunk of croc skins, fish, sharkmeat and calf shit. Independance was looming and it didn't look good for whites. The Feds were onto me. I had a huge wad of cash and an airline ticket around the world.
Often while I lay on a hot tropical beach, I would fantasize about Green evergreens, snow capped mountains, canoes, log cabins.
So off to Canada I went.
Built a log house too.

I will not be mentioned at the annual general meeting of Mother's Choice Chickens who regained their #1 position in the market.

But I was rewarded hansomely.

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endless

Joined: Jan 10, 2002
Posts: 798
From: nuclear winter
Posted: 2003-04-23 19:10
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god i hope you're writing a book right now.

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aileron

Joined: Apr 27, 2003
Posts: 17
From: North unless you're norther...
Posted: 2003-04-27 23:17
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All the best with treatment #4 Duke.
I just want to say all of us [coworkers] enjoy your stories, and we hope to hear more. Put up the good fight, it's worth it - you have alot of fans pulling for you. I want to second endless's comment: "God I hope you're writing a book"; never the less, keep posting here (we don't have to wait for the book release ).

[ This Message was edited by: aileron on 2003-04-27 23:17 ]