Doing It The Aussie Way

The extent of dismantling had to be a compromise between the maximum weight that a Chinook could airlift which could be practically accomplished given the concerns and location of the crash site. The preliminary evaluation is that the reduction of the aircraft’s basic weight to 1200Ib would be within the Chinook airlift capacity and could be feasibly accomplished from an engineering view. This evaluation and other considerations such as the support of the dismantling team, the time scale of the operation, domestic support, location of the base camp and numerous decisions were all products of fruitful (and sometimes animated) discussions during the evening nightcap session.

As well as securing the damaged areas, the aircraft had to, be stripped of its wings, propellers, engines, rudder, tailplane and all possible internal equipment. Even under normal circumstances, the dismantling of a Caribou to this extent is quite a feat; requiring numerous special tools, jibs, gantries, work stands, jacks, cradles, a crane and of course a large team of experienced tradesmen. Wallaby 164’s circumstances were far from normal, however. It had come to rest on its nose in very soft ground at the edge of a 7-degree sloping soccer field situated at 5000ft altitude. (The locals advise that the home team has never lost. ) Continual rain, fuel and oil spills and pedestrian traffic combined to turn the area into a quagmire to rival Flanders and precluded the use of any of these “normal” aids.

The remoteness and conditions combined to provide complex logistical and communications problems that nevertheless had to be solved before the dismantling process could begin. All equipment and manpower required for the task had to be flown in as well as taken out. For partly these reasons, the amount of equipment and number of personnel required were kept to a bare minimum. In the main, the tools available from the small “Flyaway Kit” on board the crashed aircraft provided the bulk of the requirements.

Ingenuity was to be the biggest aid.

Telefomin airfield, located across an 8500ft ridge line, 8nm from Eliptamin was chosen as the air-head for Caribou operations and the helo-home for Iroquois. The Iroquois were used to ferry supplies, personnel and equipment into Eliptamin after delivery to Telefomin by Caribou and Hercules.

The Eliptamin airstrip could not be used as 164 now partially blocked one side of it. Once the essential recovery items and personnel were established at “Tea-bag” the operation commenced. (As with all military operations, the “game of code words” provided some amusement; because of a “contraband cargo” consisting of chests of “New Guinea Gold” tea leaf on board 164-priority items for salvage-Eliptamin became known as “Tea Bag”; besides, try getting your tongue around Eliptamin.)

A team of engineers from No 35 Squadron, aided by Airfield Defence Guards (ADG) and specialist personnel from the Airmovements Training and Development Unit (AMTDU) combined to dismantle the aircraft in five days. The conditions were far from ideal – it rained and rained – it was hot and humid during the day and cold at night – the altitude was debilitating – and finally, there was the mud. Fortunately, the canteen cunningly situated at the top end of the airfield (200 metres uphill from the camp and crash site) kept people from getting too tense. The effort of climbing that hill and consuming two tinnies at 5000ft at the end of each day was sufficient to ensure that we rolled back down to the tents on the soccer field for an early and sound sleep (despite the river running under the stretchers). The high altitude combined with the physical exertion increased the demand for food and water dramatically all of which had to be flown in.

The task of the engineers was to dismantle the aircraft without causing secondary damage, or injury to themselves – absolute safety was a prime requirement as medical facilities were a long way off. The cook’s task was self-evident; his tireless efforts in keeping up the energy requirements and the ADGs in maintaining the camp ensured that all personnel remained fit throughout the whole operation. The ADGs also organised the local village labour requirement, administered the camp and built the various support trestles and A-Frames. They also provided the necessary “camouflage” to ensure that modesty was preserved during “bird baths” and “calls of nature”; acts which were initially viewed by a huge audience of locals with great curiosity and amusement. The AMTDU personnel provided the necessary expertise in rigging the various loads for external and internal Chinook airlifts.

The Hercules flew in the support and camp equipment from Australia while the Caribou shuttled between Wewak and Telefomin – providing fuel for the Iroquois at Telefomin and rations for all personnel.

The three minutes over the ridge line helicopter flight between Telefomin and “Tea-Bag” was aptly described by a Hercules navigator who came for a visit as – “you guys would put the big dipper out of business”. Prompt support from Australia in satisfying all our demands ensured that the salvage operation got underway without delay.

One of the earliest problems was to “safety” the aircraft. No work could start until the batteries were secured, all fuel and oil drained, and the oxygen system purged. The fuel and oil did not present much of a problem; it was drained into 44-gallon drums, which had been prepositioned by Iroquois and dumped into a drain remote from the village (although some of the fuel was kept for degreasing purposes). The main battery and the oxy cylinders presented difficulties as they were trapped in the distorted nose section. Even heavy breathing was banned until these items were removed.

Whilst on the subject of security, some members of the team (despite missionary assurances) were apprehensive about the friendliness or otherwise of the natives; having heard rumours of cannibalism still being practised in surrounding areas. With commendable initiative this personnel started an “artifact buying enterprise”; by offering 1 Toea per spear or arrow and 1 Kina per bow to all takers who finished off the operation these enterprising (prudent!) individuals had cornered the local arms market.

In the same vein, negotiations with the local head mar for the provision of a “labour line” was a delicate matter worth diplomacy of Kissinger. With hand signals and pseudo pidgin English, the ADGs were able to negotiate a labour rate of 1 Kina per person per day. Notwithstanding the capitalistic incentive, the locals were more than enthusiastic to lend, a hand – in fact, hundreds had to be turned back.

A major task confronting the engineers was the means of removing the wings, rudder and rear control surfaces. Because of the soft ground, and the sheer logistics of getting them on-site, the standard cranes, work platforms, trestles and jacks could not be used. A rough design for a gantry to lowe the wings was concocted for manufacture from timber to cut on site. The determination of suitable safe stresses for the timber was based on the local’s “him fella go break boss” or “him fella no break boss” (or words to that effect). The engineers (graduates in the theory of structures!) pukka but complex structural design was abandoned in favour of the ADGs’ envious lashing and bracing techniques which provided a very strong yet easily assembled and moveable structure.

Over the next few days, with little help from “higher technology” the aircraft was progressively dismantled. The sturdy local natives did most of the heavy lifting (a one-ton complement of camp personnel was carried 100 yards to the Chinook uplift point by half the number of locals and an incredible war chant). One concession to “modern technology” however, was a four-ton lifting airbag which was used to raise, level and stabilize the aircraft during wing removal.

(Even without this aid I’m sure the locals could have improvised something suitable. Evidence abounded of their craftsmanship and ingenuity in turning the most innocuous items we disregarded into something extremely useful. ) Removal of the wing was one of the few “heart-stopping” moments. It was imperative that the wing came away cleanly from the root section when the last remaining wing bolts were removed. (If any of the bolts had jammed we would still be up there!) A lot of paper was used up in calculating C of G positions, estimates of aircraft “shift” after weight change on wing removal, and numerous geometric drawings. Thankfully it is all approximately correct. The wings were lowered to the ground by a junior tradesman (“Volunteered” by the senior members of the team) straddling the cross beam of the frame and winding the wing down, with the aid of a hand ratchet winch, into waiting for hands of the willing locals. The “volunteered” junior member won the task of lowering the engine to the ground. However, this time he had to ride the item to the ground; an exercise carried out with much apprehension.

In general, the remainder of the dismantling was straightforward and uneventful. The one exception, which sent everyone to the “canteen” for a heart starter afterwards, occured towards the end. The aircraft had been tipped on its side (by the airbag positioned just forward of the main wheels for “maximum throw” of the fuselage) to allow easy access to the tailplane surfaces. With the aircraft in this area, the nose strut was able to be pulled from the wheel and take up its “normal” position. However, just after starting to bleed air from the airbag to lower the nose for fitment of a temporary drag strut (accurately manufactured at the Wewak hospitat from two inch steam pipe) the entire aircraft toppled slowly over the centre onto its nose. (Yes, we underestimated the weight change on removal of the rear surfaces. ) Luckily the nose strut folded up again into the wheel well and did not go into an over-centre lockdown, or the aircraft may have careered off downhill on its wheels and into the swampy area adjacent to the river and then we would never have been welcome back to Australia.

The culmination of the operation occurred on Friday, November 3, 1978, when we and all the locals for miles watched “Maribalus also mixmaster Jesus Christ swallow and all bugger up” wing its way to Wewak. We all quickly packed and caught the Iroquois Taxi to Wewak for a day of sifting sand through the toes prior to heading home.

Whilst the foregoing is only a superficial outline of some of the highlights of the operation, the overall success of the salvage is testimony to the professionalism, dedication and training of the service personnel involved, and the cooperation of the local village and missionary personnel. Complex engineering and logistic problems were solved with the typical Aussie approach. The improvisation and initiative displayed by all personnel is a credit to the RAAF and our nation.