It was an interesting Flight

[Pinky the pilot]

I wrote this story of a flight in PNG for the newsletter of an Antique and Historical Arms Association of which I am a member. This is why some of the descriptions of the Aircraft and operations are more detailed than would be for anyone with an Aviation background.

Anyone else have anything?


The small town and grass airstrip of Baimaru is situated on a river estuary on the southern coast of Papua New Guinea, about 67 nautical miles west of Kerema which is 120 nautical miles west of Port Moresby. Kerema is, to put it mildly, a small coastal town situated in the middle of a malarial swamp.

However, all the provincial Government Offices, Legislature and the Royal PNG Constabulary station for that particular Gulf Province are at Kerema and it was one morning when I walked into the Pilots Room of our company in Port Moresby that the Chief Pilot grabbed me and informed me that I had ''an interesting flight to do today!"

A tiny voice in the back of my mind said "Uh oh."

It transpired that a major riot had broken out in Baimaru- cause and severity unknown at the time but an urgent request for Police attendance had come through from the Village Headmen and the owner of the local Trade store, and they were required NOW!!

Around 15 minutes later a flight plan had been prepared and submitted and I was on my way to Kerema in one of the company's twin engine aircraft, a Britten Norman Islander. Arriving at Kerema an hour later I was met by the Chief of the local PNG Constabulary and a squad of 6 men, all armed to the teeth! The Chief toted a tear gas/rubber bullet gun and was wearing webbing festooned with ammunition. His Men had a variety of arms; pump action shot/riot guns, Browning Hi-power pistols, some old and well used Colt AR-15s and one even had a No 4 .303 in what appeared to be extremely good condition.

The Chief and his men presented all firearms to me for inspection to show that they were unloaded and clear (I checked each one) and we boarded the aircraft for departure. Just prior to engine start the Chief gave his men and myself a briefing on the situation and impressed on me the requirement to get to Baimaru as quickly as possible as the latest intelligence had revealed that some of the rioters were known 'raskols' (criminals) and had managed to arm themselves with an unknown variety of weapons and that there had been reported shootings. On that note we were on our way.

I decided therefore that the best way into Baimaru strip would be low and fast. The Islander's normal cruise speed was 120 knots at altitude but I opted to maintain 500 ft with the engines set at maximum continuous revolutions and a climb power throttle setting. I informed the Chief who was seated in the co-pilot's seat of my intention of not joining the circuit at Baimaru as per standard procedures, but to do a straight in approach and landing regardless of wind speed and direction (or Aviation regulations for that matter) as the runway was of a good length. Once on the ground I would taxi at a high speed to the parking bay which thankfully was also of substantial length, shut down the engines whilst still moving and try to park the aircraft in such a manner that no-one nearby could pick off his men, or me, as we exited the aircraft. Exactly how I was going to accomplish the latter I had no idea but didn't tell him that!

The Chief responded by briefing his men in 'ples tok' (the local language) and they nodded their understanding. He then instructed me on what he wanted of me and ensured that I understood.

About 3 nm short of Baimaru strip I started slowing the aircraft down, lowered landing flap and completed all checks and then notified Port Moresby Flight Service via HF radio of intentions, finishing with advice that if I had not called back by a certain time that they were to go straight to the distress phase and initiate search and rescue procedures. The highly efficient Female Flight Service Officer simply replied
'Roger. Be careful. Good Luck!'

We managed to sneak in apparently unobserved and I planted the aircraft on the runway about 150 metres in from the threshold, raised the flaps and pushed the revs back up to give us a taxi speed of about 45kts. Around 50 m short of entering the parking bay I shut down both engines, turned off all switches, threw off my headset and we entered the parking bay still at a fair speed. As the aircraft slowed further I stood hard on a rudder pedal and wheel brake, slewing to a stop facing back out to the runway.

Things happened fairly quickly after that. As I unlatched the door next to me followed by my seatbelt I heard the unmistakable sounds of weapons being 'locked and loaded.' I then dived out onto the grass and hit the ground flat as previously instructed. After less than 15 seconds the entire squad were fanned out about 15metres out from the aircraft, laying flat with all weapons pointed outwards and looking for trouble. After a few more seconds the Chief barked a series of orders and his men were gone. He then tuned to me and said just one word. ''Go.''

I needed no encouragement.

Within two minutes the Islander's wheels left the runway, taking off in the opposite direction to that of landing, with a Pilot quite relieved to be out of the way. The flight back to Kerema where I took on fuel, some passengers and cargo for Port Moresby, was quite uneventful. I reflected on the whole event as we cruised along and began to wonder what all the fuss was about.

A few days later though, the Chief Pilot took me aside and matter-of-factly told me that he had just had a phone call from the PNG Constabulary HQ in Pt Moresby who had received a report from the detachment I had flown into Baimaru. Apparently when I took off from the strip, as I cleared some tall trees just off the end of the runway a sizeable number of armed rioters had opened fire on me as I passed overhead them.

Subsequently the Chief Pilot, a few Aircraft Maintenance Engineers and I carried out a meticulous inspection of the entire aircraft. We found not a single scratch or hole that shouldn't have been there and concluded that the raskols were very poor shots.

I did, however, have a few extra drinks at the Aero Club bar that evening. Doubles, too!

[MoreAviation]

the Chief Pilot grabbed me and informed me that I had ''an interesting flight to do today!"

A tiny voice in the back of my mind said "Uh oh."

An 'interesting flight' almost always a euphemism for trouble. Great post and a nice thread. Will post something at a more civilised hour. I am sure everybody has had an interesting flight.

Now let's see, what to write, that flight to Tingwall with the judge and the black magician with the blue contact lenses was interesting...

[Alisoncc]

Pinky you wouldn't normally associate an Islander with pulling a lot of G, but they are remarkably capable. Landing at Kiunga in PNG in the wet season, meant you could stop within the length of the fuselage. Once the sticky mud grabbed your wheels you came to a very very fast stop, and if the pax weren't firmly strapped in then broken bones and pulled joints were the order of the day.

Taking off was just as much fun. They had "rescued" some metal strips of WWII jungle airstrip, about 30ft long. These were carefully lined up in front of your undercarriage, and the aircraft was lifted on to the start of the strips - out of the mud. The mud was washed off the wheels and legs, and you were ready to go. IIRC you set maximum flap as you needed all the lift you could get, gunned the donk and released the brakes. And prayed that you would have enough lift to skim over the mud after leaving the metal strips. If not you came to a shuddering halt, when you would start the process again.

To the best of my knowledge we never broke the legs of an Islander, but I reckon we used to come close.

Alison

[Alisoncc]

The small town and grass airstrip of Baimaru is situated on a river estuary on the southern coast of Papua New Guinea, about 67 nautical miles west of Kerema which is 120 nautical miles west of Port Moresby. Kerema is, to put it mildly, a small coastal town situated in the middle of a malarial swamp.

The story doing the rounds when they achieved independence was that the intention had been for the flag to include a bird of paradise, but it turned out to be bloody great mosquito. Which to the minds of many ex-pats was far more relevant. If the crocodiles didn't get you, the mossies would.

Don't remember Kerema, but flew into Daru more than a few times. It was the base camp for some guys who were trying to survey the Fly River. I suspect they were tasked with working out how the hell they were going to get all the heavy mining equipment up to Ok Tedi.

Alison

[ExSp33db1rd]

Can't honestly say I "learned", 'cos I knew it was wrong from the start.

During my early airline service, 'tho engaged as a pilot I was employed as a navigator, but in recognition that it was all their fault that we weren't keeping our pilot licences valid, the company stationed a fleet of Chipmunks ( aircraft, not rodents ) at the old Croydon Airport ( remember that ?) and we were permitted to charge six hours flying every six months to the airline, apart from that we could mostly do what we wanted with the aircraft.

One day I took my aged ( younger than I am now, but seemed aged at the time ) Aunt for a flight, and went over to the Isle of Wight for the day, but on return I used up all the available cartridges in the starter magazine without inciting ignition in the motor. Crestfallen, and with day coming to a close, I went over to the maintenance base and enquired as to the possibility of a trolley-ack cart to plug in to give me power to start ? One was available but in use elsewhere, hang on for a bit and we'll come over.

I returned to the Chipmunk, with aged aunt still strapped into the rear seat, primed the carb., ensured that the brake was still set, cracked the throttle, then placed aunts' hand on the rear throttle and said " when the engine starts, pull that lever BACK ! I then walked around to the front and swung the prop. Fortunately the engine started, and I ran quickly back, climbed in and resumed control. We landed back at Croydon before dark.

I still have nightmare visions of Aged Aunt rolling across the airfield alone !

[Pinky the pilot]

you wouldn't normally associate an Islander with pulling a lot of G, but they are remarkably capable

Well Alison, I'm actually quite aware of that...but I must admit to have wondered exactly how strong they were/are, for another reason.

In my Douglas Airways days there was a Pilot at an outlying base who was a bit of a maverick. Anyway, he told me on several occasions that it was quite possible to loop an Islander and that he had done it several times and that I should try it myself. He even gave me entry speeds etc.

And NO!! I never even considered it! Even though my late Father (39814 WO1, Baum; Ronald Wilhelm. Pilot 461 Sqn RAAF. 1945) once told me that he was flying with a Pommy Instructor who showed him how to loop an Airspeed Oxford! Dad then went out and did it solo as well!!

I just considered that an Oxford had possibly been less abused than a PNG registered 'Bongo Van."

ExSp33db1rd; Edited after seeing your post.

[Alisoncc]

Well Alison, I'm actually quite aware of that...but I must admit to have wondered exactly how strong they were/are, for another reason.

Pinky, I was referring to the deceleration from aviating to the sudden stop in the mud. A bit like the guy jumping off a high building. It's not the fall that killed him, but the sudden stop at the end.

Alison

[dubbleyew eight]

how strong they were?
pinky the knowledge has been under your nose for years but coded in ways that often make it incomprehensible.
what category of registration was the aircraft registered and operated under?
if you go back to the airworthiness standards often the category directly correlates to a strength.
normal category is 3.8g pilots limit and 6g ultimate strength.
what was the weight of the aeroplane?

[Pinky the pilot]

This was the second in a series of articles I had written for an Antique and Historical Arms Association of which I am a member, about some of the antics I got up to whilst flying in PNG many years back.


PNG; The Land of the Unexpected

It was once said to me by a long time PNG Bush Pilot that flying in that country was 90% boredom and 10% sheer terror. Whilst I tend to agree about the sheer terror bit, in fact it was probably a bit more than 10%, I could not agree with the boredom side. To me, PNG Bush flying was rarely if ever boring simply because there was always something different. Some regular trips may have appeared straightforward and possibly repetitive but if you ever relaxed in your concentration there was always a distinct possibility that something would bite. And bite hard.

So one thing you could always expect, was the unexpected.

Law and Order has been an issue in PNG ever since Independence and by the early 90's it was starting to break down badly in some areas. Houses, Units etc were surrounded by razor wire topped fences and locked gates and had deadlocked security doors with steel bars covering windows. Every house I ever occupied had these security details and a lot of Expats were armed in one way or another. However, for the average PNG citizen in remote villages and especially in the Highlands, crime was seen as, and indeed was, out of control.

But it still came as being somewhat unexpected to me one morning when I arrived at the Company's Base Office at Jackson Field Port Moresby and walked into the Pilots room to be greeted by our Ops Manager who informed me that my first flight for the following day was a Police Charter up to Tapini, a bush strip at 3,000 ft elevation, in the Goilala area north of Moresby. 'Nothing dangerous..' I was assured. Just that there was a bit of 'raskol trable' around Tapini and that I had to take a squad of PNG Constabulary there.

At O dark hundred the following morning awaiting me on the tarmac I found a group of seven rather tough looking blokes all armed with what were quite obviously well used AR15s along with
boxes of ammunition, their backpacks and kit. There were also boxes of teargas grenades which I was assured were not primed!

Anyway, the flight to Tapini was unremarkable and after landing the squad unloaded all their gear, politely thanked me and ambled off into the distance as though it was to be a leisurely stroll in the countryside. I loaded some passengers and baggage for a few destinations around the area before returning to Port Moresby, and promptly forgot all about the squad.

About a week later things had changed somewhat. Word was filtering down to Police HQ that things were starting to heat up a little. And so late one afternoon as I was leaving to head back to my Unit that the Chief Pilot stopped me and informed me that I had a resupply flight for the Police Squad the next morning and that it might be 'interesting.'

That little voice in the back of my mind said ''(Expletive deleted.) Not again!!"

The Police squad had been pursuing an armed group of raskols around the Tapini area for several days and had chased a small group of armed hard cases further into the mountains, but now the squad needed some supplies. I was to take cargo only which consisted of rations, some medical supplies and more ammunition for the AR15s to an airstrip called Kerau which is only 7 nautical miles to the NE from Tapini but several thousand feet higher at 7,100ft AMSL.

Once again at 0 dark hundred the next morning I was ready and my instructions were brief and precise. Upon arriving in the Kerau circuit area I was to do the usual circuit but lower than normal and inspect the surrounding area for any activity and only land if I was satisfied that there was no danger. After landing though, I was to taxi back to the runway threshold, line up and keep the engines running. If anyone other than the Police appeared I was to "Get out of Dodge, fast!" (The CP actually used that exact phrase) He added that if I wished to return to my Unit and get my Pistol which I owned as a member of the SP Pistol Club and take it with me I was authorised to do so. I replied that it was already in my flight bag to which he said that it wasn't going to be of much use to me there!

Shortly afterwards the Boss Cargo Boi stuck his head thru the door and said that the aircraft was fuelled and ready to go with all cargo secured. At this I slipped a loaded magazine into my Pistol, holstered it and placed the holster on the belt of my uniform shorts, grabbed my headset, flight plans, nav bag and walked out the door.

The crowd of usually vocal PNG Nationals who hung around the offices every day became silent when they saw me with a Gun on my hip. A thought entered my head; "Yeah, well PNG really is the Land of the Unexpected."

The Flight to Kerau was really nothing out of the ordinary but I was still quietly amazed at the breathtaking beauty of the Mountains in the early dawn light. I had to avoid a few small clouds on some ridgetops, arrived overhead the strip and started a circuit at 500ft above the runway threshold elevation with the aircraft altimeter reading 7,600ft and with nearby terrain rising nearly 2000ft higher.

Not seeing anything out of the ordinary I commenced a base leg for landing, gave a 'Joining circuit Kerau, call after landing' call on the HF radio to the Flight Service unit who acknowledged. I then pulled my pistol from the holster, chambered a round and replaced it in the holster, thinking that at no time in my flying training and then flying career did I ever have to perform a pre-landing checklist that included the item "Keeping finger clear of trigger, pull and release slide."

To be continued;

[Alisoncc]

to be greeted by our Ops Manager who informed me that my first flight for the following day was a Police Charter up to Tapini, a bush strip at 3,000 ft elevation, in the Goilala area north of Moresby.

Recognise this place Pinky? Bin there done that. Twenty odd years before you though love.

tpng_0006.jpg (161.39 KiB) Viewed 973 times

And my little Cherook on a solo nav exercise for my PPL.

tpng_0002.jpg (162.67 KiB) Viewed 972 times

Dependant upon the time of the day as to whether you got an updraught or downdraught on approach.
Downdraught meant you flew into the cliff. With a very short runway, updraught meant you flew into the
mountain at the other end of the runway if you didn't get it down quick..

tpng_0007.jpg (228.87 KiB) Viewed 970 times

What fun it was !!!
Used to carry a bang-bang in my flight bag too. Essential when you have a BN2A full of locals, who on seeing their village decide to get out mid-air.

Alison

[Pinky the pilot]

Hmmm...Never ever saw Tapini looking that neat, clean and tidy in my time there.
And the sign shown in the first piccy was long gone.

I wonder why?

[Alisoncc]

Back in the seventies didn't take no sh*t from the locals. The Kiap was in charge, and one look from him would have them quaking in their boots - if they had any.

Like most of Africa, independence meant there was no one in charge, and they just run wild.

[Pinky the pilot]

Back in the seventies didn't take no sh*t from the locals. The Kiap was in charge, and one look from him would have them quaking in their boots - if they had any.

Like most of Africa, independence meant there was no one in charge, and they just run wild.

Exactly!

I lost count of the number of times I was asked by elderly PNG Villagers 'When taim bilong Masta kambak?' They remembered the Colonial days and how there was an Aid Station where there was basic but functional Medical aid to be had and that there was also a reasonable Education to be gained through various Missions and Government run schools.

All but gone, even in the early 90's when I was there.

Part 2 of PNG; The Land of the Unexpected in due course.

[ian16th]

Alison,
Would you consider this an improvement of your pic?

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[Alisoncc]

What, Ian. Did you tweak the graphics a bit? Looks like the same image with more contrast.

Jeez but I did like my little Cherokee. Fairly certain that was the 180 not the 140.

Where it says "Tapini" is actually the end of the runway. If attempting a go-around you have to do a somersault and go back the way you just came. Pinky knows all about that.

[ian16th]

What, Ian. Did you tweak the graphics a bit? Looks like the same image with more contrast.

I used the one click 'Auto adjust colors' function of the FREE program, Ifranview.

From here.

I heartily recommend it.

[Ex-Ascot]

Don't like granite. Had too many close calls with it. Prefer the bush here. Not too many lumps.

Chatting to local private pilot yesterday. Here in the Delta do you force land in the bush or on the marsh/water? Loads of islands. We agreed on getting your feet wet.

[Pinky the pilot]

PNG; The Land of the Unexpected Part 2

The landing was unsurprisingly uneventful as Kerau had never presented any great problems in the past. Despite being the only two way strip in the Goilala area you still always landed in the uphill direction but could also take off uphill as it was only a gentle slope, providing of course that any tailwind was less than 5kt and the aircraft lightly loaded. As I taxied back to the threshold I called Moresby Flight Service, advised my status and intentions whilst scanning the surrounding area for any signs of activity. It was then that I started to become mildly concerned. It was just too quiet!

There was just no-one in sight. No locals or Police Officers were to be seen anywhere which was most odd as normally there were always a few locals to be seen. As I reached the runway threshold and turned back to face the runway I completed my pre-take-off checks and continued to scan the area ahead and around the aircraft, being by now more than slightly worried that it was quite a possibility that someone could sneak up from directly behind the aircraft.

Several minutes passed. The engines were still running at 1,000rpm and all temperatures and pressures were normal but I was by then getting somewhat edgy. More minutes passes and Moresby Flight Service called up on the HF to confirm `Ops Normal.` All I said was `Still waiting.` And it was just about then that, from around a bend in the pathway to the edge of the parking bay appeared a young member of the Constabulary squad, carrying his AR 15 in both hands at high port but with an expression on his face that could only be described as very mournful and upset.

Heaving a massive sigh of relief I called Flight Service to cancel SAR, advising that I would call again when taxiing for departure in around 10 minutes. And after switching off the radios and shutting down the engines I exited the aircraft and greeted the Officer with a cheery

`How ya going Mate?`

His reply was certainly not what I would have expected and it was quite clear that he was not a happy Man.

`Ohh Mr Pilot, I am not good at all. I am so ashamed!`

Needless to say I was somewhat taken aback at this and my bewilderment showed in my reply.

`Struth Mate, what`s wrong? Can`t be that bad surely.`

This appeared to have exactly the opposite effect to that which was intended as he replied with words to the effect that he was most ashamed at his recent conduct as a serving member of the PNG Constabulary. Phrases such as `terrible and unforgivable acts,` `disgraceful conduct` and the like were used in a monologue which went on for a minute or two.

My imagination proceeded to run away at a rather high speed. Struth...what had he done? Encountered a group of raskols and slaughtered the lot without mercy? Walked into a remote village and wiped out the entire lot??

As I commenced to remove the cargo nets securing the supplies I tried to get him to talk about it but all that did was seemingly deepen his depression. I cautiously checked that the restraining strap on my Pistol
Holster was loose when he wasn`t looking. He continued to use the words `disgraceful behaviour,` `unforgivable conduct` and `deeply ashamed.`

At this I wondered just how fast my `fast draw` was if it was needed.

As I finally got the last cargo net unfastened and removed I turned to him and suggested politely but firmly that it really could not possibly be that bad and maybe it would do him some good if he told me about it. After a few moments of thought he agreed that this might be the case and the ensuing conversation went something like this;

Him; `Well Mr Pilot, It was yesterday afternoon when my squad and I were on patrol chasing after this group of armed raskols and we finally caught up with a few of them.`

Me; `Yes, well done. Go on.`

Him; `They would not surrender even though we had our sights on them and they opened fire on us, so we returned fire. It was not a nice situation we found ourselves in.`

I started to become even more concerned.

Me; `And....?`

Him; During the exchange of fire I found that there was this raskol only a few yards from me. He saw me and started to turn his gun towards me and so I fired three shots at him with this.` He indicated his AR15.

I thought, `(expletive deleted) The poor bugger has had to shoot someone!` And so I rather lamely said something like

`Yeah Mate, well sometimes bad things happen.`

But this just made him positively wail

`Oh Mr Pilot, this just should not have happened. It is totally shameful!`

At this, my patience lost out to curiosity and I replied

`Why?? He was going to shoot you so you got in first. So what happened?`

Him; 'I missed! And the raskol ran away!'

This incident occurred almost 25 years ago. To this very day I still have absolutely no flamin` idea whatsoever as to how I managed to keep a straight face! After a few seconds and several deep breaths to compose myself I made a few sympathetic remarks and then suddenly thought of a way that I might be able to cheer him up a bit. And so I told him that I had a fair amount of experience with firearms in general, being a regular rifle shooter back in Australia and proceeded to lay it on a bit. I claimed to know a bit about the AR15 and asked him if I could examine his rifle.

He handed it over with the caution that there was a round in the chamber and the safety was off. My respect for him went up several notches.

It was indeed a very old AR15, one of the earliest models actually, lacking the bolt assist. Most of the original finish had worn off so it was really well used. And so I proceeded to use the old `baffle `em with BS` schtick, claiming that I could tell from its serial number and lack of arsenal refurbishment stampings that it would have to have been one of the first examples manufactured, it had never been refurbished etc etc. And as such the barrel was probably totally shot out and no-one could hit anything they aimed at with it, even if it was at point blank range.

This seemed to cheer him up a great deal and just about then a few more of his fellow officers arrived so after handing back his rifle we proceeded to unload the supplies. After bidding them farewell I closed up the aircraft, started the engines and after the required checks and radio calls, took off.

After departing the runway I turned down the valley back towards Tapini, made the require departure calls with estimate for Tapini and set up a 1000fpm descent.

I then completely lost it!

Arriving in the Tapini circuit area about three minutes later I was still laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my cheeks, my ribs were hurting and actually had to do two complete circuits above the strip before I could compose myself sufficiently to give the `Circuit area Tapini` call on HF to Moresby Flight Service. I still also have no idea how I managed to even fly the aircraft!

Landing at Tapini was about as normal as could be expected given the circumstances and there I found that I had a few passengers and cargo to load for a return to Port Moresby. The passengers included one alleged raskol, firmly handcuffed with a stout plastic cable tie. He appeared to be in quite a jolly mood, laughing and joking with his Police escorts who seemed to share his good humour. I wondered if he would still be in a good humour once they had him the cells at the Police Barracks. I doubted it very much.

The return flight to Port Moresby was, yes; quite normal and uneventful. And when I got back into our company offices I removed my pistol, unloaded it and returned it to my flight bag for the drive back to my unit.

PNG; Definitely the Land of the unexpected.

[Alisoncc]

Pinky, at least they weren't using these to shoot at you.

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Think I took the photo here. Kokoda or Popondetta.

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[Pinky the pilot]

I flew into Kokoda quite a few times and never saw either of those so I would suggest that they were/are at Popondetta. Never got there though.

The Artillery piece shown looks like a Naval Gun. Even if it was operational and there was ammo for it I doubt that your average raskol would be able to work out how to use it without blowing themselves up!