Air Safety

It was much smaller than our Dragon, yet I couldn’t help being impressed. And there was a wide luggage door which, if the cabin was modified, would take a stretcher. Technically it was way ahead- like an airliner in miniature for those days.

At this stage (young and single!),I’d taken a fancy to a gorgeous redhead who helped staff a little bush hospital about 150 miles down the track-one of our regular “doctor’s day” centres where we usually stayed overnight. She was English, but was slotting into outback life rather well.

The day before I was to take the Apache back,I was working in the hangar,getting it ready. Old Jim,our senior pilot,was away in the Dragon with the doctor,so I was on my own. Late in the day, just as I was thinking about shutting up, the telephone rang. “Heart attack over at Mulga Creek,” our base operator said. “Trevor Williams,their overseer. How soon can you be away?”

Mulga Creek’s strip was a new one we hadn’t yet landed on. ‘/\bout 15 minutes-can’t be any later if I’m to get off again before dark. ”

“Right. I’ve asked them to have him out at the strip for you ,so it’ll be just there and back. The hospital’s not sending anyone his wife’s probably coming with him. ”

* * *

An hour later,in the cloudless yellow sunlight of late afternoon, I was on descent in the Apache. Somewhere in the ocean of scrub 25 miles ahead lay the Mulga Creek airstrip. The sun was close to the horizon and already some of the undulating country was in shadow.

The railway,snaking across the landscape,was in sight now. I gazed at it wistfully – less than 15minutes flying down that line would take me to the lovely Redhead. Five miles further on I could make out the airstrip, a red gash in the grey-green scrub. And there now was the main road running north-west. The strip, oriented east-west,lay just to its right,its western end almost abutting it.

‘ As I overflew the homestead,a Land Rover moved off,trailing a cloud of dust as it followed the track through the trees to where the strip’s windsock hung listlessly in the calm air. It would be the patient being brought out,I reckoned.

Looking the strip over,I guessed it to be about 2,000feet long.

At its western end, the telephone line paralleling the road crossed the°i1pproach path only ‘a short distance from the threshold. A landing from the east was the only way in that light air Positioning the Apache well out,I put down full flap,brought the speed back,and made a long shallow approach. Once clear of the scrub,I retarded the throttles as I flared,and the Apache dropped on firmly. It slowed quickly and there was no need to brake.

As I turned to taxi,I saw why- it was all soft sand! Bulldozed from virgin scrub,and with no rain on it since,the strip hadn’t yet consolidated. Even to keep the aircraft rolling I had to use a good deal of throttle. I didn’t like it . . .

As I shut down,a man in stockman’s clothes walked over from the Land Rover. I opened the cabin door and climbed out. The winter evening was turning cold. Just as well- for takeoff I was going to need all the help there was.

The man introduced himself. “Kev McNamara- I’ll be runnin’ the place while Trevor’s crook. ”

We shook hands. “Got him in the Land Rover?” As I spoke,a slim figure in a blue parka and slacks also climbed out of the vehicle,a woollen ski cap pulled down over her hair.

“Trevor’s lyin’ down in the house,” McNamara answered. “Sister’s got ‘im on a drip- said we better wait a bit before we move ‘im. ”

Already submerged by the strip’s condition,my spirits sank further. “Sister?What Sister’s that?”

The overseer nodded towards the girl walking towards us. “Sister from up the line-comedown after she heard what’s doin’ on the wireless. ”

To my amazement, it was the Redhead. She smiled broadly, her eyes radiating their own secret welcome. “Hello – bet you never expected to see me. ”

My joy was punctured by worry over how I was going to get off again. And it would be dark in 20minutes. “What are you doing here?” I blurted.

She laughed,interpreting my attitude as surprise. “I earnt my outback spurs today. The line maintenance foreman brought me down on his rail trolley. It was marvellous. ”

“How did you get here so quickly?I demanded,still taken aback by developments.

“Earlier this afternoon-when we heard the patient was having difficulty breathing- I came straight away with morphine and a bottle of saline. He’d have been in a bad way otherwise. ”

I pulled myself together. Already the sun had set. “We’ll have to hurry “,I said firmly. “We need to get off again before it’s dark. ”

“Yer cah use the Land Rover’s lights,” McNamara volunteered. “Trevor reckons that’s what ‘arry Moss used t’ do whenever ‘e was delayed. Harry’d go anywhere anytime, Trevor reckons. ” Some of the old Territory pilots were almost folk heroes and I couldn’t tell whether the stockm1;m was casting aspersions or whether he was being naive” he continued,”Sister’s got this other case. ”

“What case?” Now I really had the jitters.

“Station ‘and from Federal Hill – reckoned ‘e couldn’t drive any further because of pains in the guts. Self-inflicted,I reckon. Spent last night drinking ‘is week’s pay. But ‘e’s still in pain, so Sister’s gonna have a look at ‘im too. ”

Frustration welling up,I turned to the Redhead. “Be as quick as you can, won’t you. ” I tried to restrain my tone-the clash of our professional concerns was evaporating our rapport like sun on a mist filled valley “I’ll do my best,” she answered drily. ”Apart from anything else, we’ll have to see how our first patient’s responding. We can’t move him while he’s still having chest pains. ”

* * *

Miserably, I watched the Land Rover disappear amongst the trees, and set about inspecting the airstrip. I walked first to the eastern threshold to check the height of the scrub. Then I paced out the distance to its western end. Beyond it,I continued down the rough track that ledto the road. There were another 75 paces to the telephone line and its two wires were about 15 feet off the ground-nearly double the required obstacle free gradient. As I thought,we’d have to take off into the east.

I walked back to the Apache as the stars were coming out. A breeze was springing up from the south,chilling the evening further. My mind was in turmoil: the nagging worry of the airstrip; the folly of not checking on its condition earlier; the mutual hostility that was destroying a beautiful relationship. Contemplating the growing brilliance of the Milky Way, I grieved for a night only a fortnight before when we’d walked hand in hand beneath those stars.

An hour passed before I glimpsed the lights of the returning Land Rover; winding along the track in low gear,it finally drew up beside the Apache. In the dim light of the cab, I could see the patient, listless in the front seat. The Redhead, in the back, was holding a bottle above him. There were two other figures- his wife,and another, big fleshy man between the two women.

I opened the door and the Redhead passed me the bottle. It was attached by a tube to William’s arm. “We’ll have to hold this while we get him into the plane-weneed to keep the drip going. ” She squeezed herself out and took the bottle again while McNamara and I moved the patient. Getting him up on to the wing, then into the rear seat wasn’t easy; I wondered why the other man made no move to help.

The Redhead settled herself beside Williams. I took the wife’s suitcase and put it in the rear locker. “Is there somewhere in this plane where we can hang the bottle?” the Redhead asked. Her question was no more than business like.

“There’s only the trim cranks-those handles above the windscreen. You’ll have to hold on to it during takeoff-but you’ve got plenty of room. ”

“Oh, I should have said – that other man – we’ve got to take him too. ”

“We can’t do it”, I exploded. “On this strip we’ll be overloaded. ” I controlled my sudden anger. “You medical people never seem to understand. ”

The Redhead remained unruffled. “Well, he just has to go’s all set for an acute appendicitis. ”

We glared at each other for a long moment. “OK”,I finally conceded. “But he’ll have to go in front – it’ll mean leaving Mrs Williams behind. ”

The Redhead only glared again. But when I broke the news to the wife, a thin, mousey haired woman wearing her best floral dress for the trip,her eyes filled. “Please,” she pleaded. “I’d just die if anythin’ ‘appened to Trev wiv me stuck away out ‘ere. It’s not as if I’m that big. ”

That was true enough. I didn’t want to be cruel- and maybe I was exaggerating the problem a bit. At least I could give it a go, I thought.

Immensely relieved, she got into the back alongside her husband and the other patient accepted McNamara’s assistance to clamber into the front.

When we were ready to taxi, I switched on the landing lights and glanced at the windsock, dimly visible in their glare. Only then did it strike me. The wind – it had swung to the south-west! We’d never get off into the east now. It would have to be over the telephone line after all!

McNamara was already driving to the western end. As he turned, the Land Rover’s headlights came into view, positioned to one side with the lights angled down the strip. Someone had briefed him well. I taxied to the eastern end,the heaviness of the soft sand doing nothing to allay my fears. Manoeuvring as close as possible to the scrub,I lined up, checked the magnetos,then quickly ran through the takeoff drill, feeling rather than seeing the elevator trim pointer in the darkness above my head. It was about right for takeoff.

With 10 degrees of flap down, I held the aircraft on the brakes until I’d opened the throttles fully. I needn’t have bothered; the initial acceleration was almost non-existent. Gradually gaining speed, I tried to strike the right compromise between lifting the nosewheel out of the sand and too nose high an attitude. We passed the windsock, still firmly on the ground, and I shot a glance at the ASI – only 60 knots. The nose was lifting prematurely and I reached up to adjust the trim. My hand collided with the bottle – it was still hooked on the trim crank! “Grab the bottle!” I shouted over my shoulder.

The distraction was enough to make me release forward pressure on the wheel; the uneven motion ceased as we lifted off, steeply nose up. As we passed the end of the strip; in the beam of the landing lights,I could see we were skimming the tops of the scrub.

The telephone line . . . ! Even as the thought came, there was a loud metallic clunk from the nose leg, followed in the instant by a double high pitched ping, and the starboard propeller began emitting a whistle. I clutched the control wheel, unsure what was going to happen.

Sweating,I felt again for the trim handle. The bottle had gone; the Redhead had acted quickly. I wound the trim forward, gradually coaxing the aircraft into a climb.

We were safe for the moment. But the base was 140 miles away, over hostile, uninhabited country. How responsible was it to continue in total darkness in an aeroplane with unknown

,damage? Yet there was no hope of going back. Even if we could, Williams might die. I called Aeradio and passed our departure time.

The airspeed was down about 15 knots. What could that mean?Apart from the whistle from the gashed propeller, everything else seemed normal. Then my gaze fell on the undercarriage selector-it was still in the down position. I went to raise it, then paused. If the nose-leg were damaged, retracting it might only complicatematters. I decided to leave the wheels down.

At 6,000 feet I levelled out and reduced power. The whistle was more subdued now,but I wasn’t sure about the vibration.

I played the cockpit torch over the spinning propeller. A narrow band of light reflected from the disc about halfway out, doubtless the gash made by the wires. To make a comparison I flashed the light over the port propeller. In the darkness behind the wing, something caught my eye. I turned the beam on it: wires- two strands of them – trailing back into the slipstream! It was as well I’d left the wheels down.

I glanced behind. The Redhead was still clutching the intravenous bottle. In my fear I had forgotten it too; I took it from her and hung it back on the trim crank. “Sorry-I’ve been a bit busy since we took off. ” “I know. ” She lent forward to speak without raising her voice. “Is it going to be all right?”

“Ithink so. ” There was no point in pretending. “If that propeller just holds together. Do the others know?”

“I’m sure the patients don’t. I’m not sure about Mrs Williams – she hasn’t said a word. ”

I glanced behind again. The woman sat huddled in her corner, eyes closed. The time dragged as we flew on. Eventually, far ahead in the darkness,I could see the aerodrome’s rotating light flashing. I turned and pointed it out. “I’d better give them a call. We might need some help. ”

The Aeradio operator was helpful. “Right – we’ll have everything turned on for you. Good luck!”

Remembering to unhook the bottle this time, I brought the power back and trimmed the Apache for descent, resisting the temptation to increase speed. With the undercarriage down, we’d lose height easily enough.

Ahead now were the lights of the field. Staying high to keep the trailing wires well clear of the power lines,we crossed the threshold at 200 feet, aiming to touch down about halfway down the runway. It still left plenty of room.

When I was sure of getting in, I shut down the port engine, feathered the propeller, and flicked the starter button until the blades were aligned with the wing. If the nose leg collapsed,only the damaged propeller would be a write-off.

With the full flap down and power on the live engine,I lowered the aircraft nose-up on to the runway. Then as the main wheels touched, I cut the power and turned off the fuel and switches. Hauling back progressively on the control wheel as we decelerated, I kept the nosewheel off the ground until we’d slowed almost to taxying speed. It clanked as it took the weight and I feared it might fold,but we rolled to a stop. “That was super,” the Redhead said quietly; she didn’t touch me. Yellow aerodrome vehicles loomed out of the night and braked to a stop alongside us. I unlatched the door as the ambulance drew up, and the Redhead quickly had the patients transferred.

The wife hadn’t moved. Head down, she only nodded when I asked if she was all right. Then she broke down, sobbing. We gently helped her out. “It’s all right- it’s all over now,” the Redhead said soothingly. She led her to the ambulance and went with them as they were driven away.

“Got the wind up, did she?” asked the senior groundsman kindly, when they’d gone.

* * *

I didn’t see the Redhead for a long time after that, because while I was away I was offered an F/O’s course on DC-3s at Essendon. I thought I’d blown it with her anyway. But it turned out all right in the end. In fact, she just drove in the gate as I finished telling this story to your air safety contributor – she’d been down to the railway station to pick up our grandchildren.