A Lesson in Media Awareness

A Lesson In Media Awareness

Regrettably, I believe it can be said with some confidence that daily press non-specialist reporters have been getting it wrong on aviation matters since Orville and Wilbur first started the whole business. I first reached this conclusion many years ago following an experience when embarked with my squadron in the light fleet carrier, HMAS Vengeance. The circumstances were that we were off the West Australian coast and due to berth in Fremantle the following day. Flying had finished for the afternoon and I was hotly engaged in a game of volleyball in the after lift well with my squadron team in a winning position for once. Suddenly, above all the yelling and barracking from those standing on the flight deck watching from above, I heard my name piped to muster on the bridge immediately. In a matter of minutes I presented myself, still in my smelly sports gear wondering what it was all about. In a few brief words, my squadron commander informed me that I had been detailed off to fly a very sick sailor ashore to Perth airport and that I was to get myself briefed and man my Firefly as quickly as possible. The circumstances were that the sailor was suffering from acute appendicitis but the ship was moving too much in the long rolling swell for him to be operated on, onboard. I must confess that after a hurried briefing, as I stepped out onto the flight deck I was a little surprised to find my aircraft already sitting on the catapult, particularly as my passenger was clearly fairly ill and his condition would not be improved by being shot off at something like 4G. Under the circumstances a free takeoff would have been a better option but with night approaching, there wasn’t time to re-rig the flight deck. As I’ve mentioned before, I never liked being shot off the catapult without having taxied even a short distance, somehow it didn’t feel natural. However, we were soon airborne and my passenger confirmed that he was still alive as we climbed away and set course for Perth. As we settled down for the relatively short journey of some 80 odd nautical miles (150km) I reviewed my situation. Firstly I hadn’t flown at night for almost two years, and secondly I was about to land in the dark at a strange airfield. Odd as it may seem, after a long period embarked, the first few airfield landings even in daylight felt uncomfortable, let alone at night. With all this on my mind, to the amusement of the Perth controllers I reported my position as being off Rockhampton instead of Rockingham, if you look at a map you will see that there is a slight difference! To my relief the landing was quite good but of course I had no idea where to go once we had rolled to the end of the runway. Fortunately, Perth had segmented taxiway lighting and I was instructed to follow the lights which then sprang to life in front of me. The organisation had worked well and waiting for us was an ambulance to take my passenger to hospital and a staff car to look after me. Now it so happens that I am a Sandgroper so without more ado it was off to my Aunt’s who I knew always had her fridge stocked with big thick steaks. This was important to me as it was the early fifties and the RAN had yet to venture into the 20th century catering wise. All we appeared to have onboard was mutton, potatoes and cabbage. To my dismay I discovered that the evening meal was roast lamb! The following morning, the Westralian ran the story and had it exactly right, down to the smallest detail even though I had not spoken to a reporter. I confess to being very impressed, it was my first personal experience of the press but then I was young and naive. On checking in with the local naval authorities early that morning, I was informed that the planned flypast over Perth 76 Australian Aviation August 1994 had been cancelled due to lack of wind but that the ship would be able to accept me back onboard. I was also told that I had better get moving as it was intended to berth as soon as possible. This was confirmed when I found the ship just off Fremantle. After landing, it was down to my cabin for a quick change just in time to fall in on the flight deck for the entry into harbour. Now it so happened that as we passed the moles, a Beaufort was making a number of low passes over Fremantle which looked like photographic runs, but I watched it with only passing interest. Imagine my surprise then, when the afternoon paper ran a front page article stating that the Firefly on the “mercy mission” the previous day had done a beat up of Fremantle before returning to the ship. That type of reporting can get you into a lot of trouble! Fortunately I had 1200 witnesses to confirm that the reporter needed a lesson in aircraft recognition and that I was standing on the flight deck when the alleged beat up occurred. The moral of the story? Don’t believe everything you read in the papers!

Postscript

Sorry Norm but the moral of the story is not about trusting the media but rather the Navy’s real enemy — the Royal Australian Air Force! AA’s ever vigilant editorial team, via our ultra devious team of spies, has uncovered previously classified (read it and I will have to kill you sort of stuff) documentation that proves beyond a shadow of doubt that Norm and his Navy cohorts were set up that day so long ago off Fremantle. It seems that after the RAAF’s incredibly unsuccessful attempt to shoot down an errant Auster off Sydney, a kill so swiftly claimed by Navy Sea Furys, that a special reprisal operation was actioned to get back at the boys in blue. After all, Air Force pride was at stake and forget the Commies, we all know who the real enemy was, didn’t we! If you are a little confused by all this then we gladly recount the deeds of our fighting forces that August morning in 1955. It seems that a civvy Auster Archer was being prepped for flight from Bankstown airport when it took to the sky sans the pilot. Not a good thing having a pilotless plane flying over our largest population centre and so the RAAF was quickly summoned to down the beast before it became a flaming headline in the evening press. A half hour passed with no sign of the Air Force though by this stage the errant Auster had climbed towards 10,000ft as it ambled eastward on its terminal flight. A Navy Auster Autocar had meanwhile joined the action and was shadowing the pilotless lightie, sort of performing a Forward Air Control role, if you like. Eventually a Richmond based Wirraway arrived on the scene but RAAF luck turned foul as its guns froze and jammed. The Wirraway was forced to disengage as a Meteor jet fighter from Williamtown arrived with much bravado to dispatch the Auster to its fate. Result, the Meteor’s cannons also jammed. If the RAAF were at crisis point by this stage then it must have been nothing to what happened next when just before the second Meteor arrived, two Nowra based RAN Sea Furies finished the Auster off in quick fashion, and with it the then credibility of the Air Force! Thus AA’s documentation shows that the Beaufort that mysteriously buzzed Fremantle that day had ‘Navy’ written from nose to tail and was sent on a mission to specifically get back at the Navy for taking Air Force’s glory the year before. Perhaps thus the moral of this very odd tale is — never trust your enemy!

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