Hong Kong. In Cantonese, Heung Gong, meaning Fragrant Harbour.

We followed the Airways up the Philippine chain to overhead Manila – Cabanatuan – Poro Point, then across the South China Sea to Hong Kong.

Not all pilots in the Company’s employ were certified to fly in and out of Hong Kong. It was considered to be a

special case airport and a selected few were specifically trained and checked for this operation. The flight engineer’s

role was considered essentially the same approaching and departing every airport so no specialist training was given

for Hong Kong. No flight simulator as yet so no full crew special procedure training was available. However the

Sydney based F/Es quickly adapted to the special requirements imposed upon the pilots and soon became a valuable

component in the procedure. After departing the Manila area on our flights from Sydney to Hong Kong we would

set off across the South China Sea. All the way from Sydney for the previous eight hours and up until this point,

there had been plenty for the passengers to see. Without in-flight movies or the music and entertainment channels

we have today, the passengers were entertained by what could be seen out the aircraft's windows. For the final 1½

hours of the journey there was nothing to see, but the sea. For most of the year though, the journey across the sea

was completed in darkness. People had endured a long day and were ready to settle back, and most dozed for that

final part of the journey. The populated area of Hong Kong is surrounded by high ground on all sides, and is hidden

from view as you near it, particularly in the direction from which we approached it. By following certain radio

beacons, the aircraft is guided to the entrance of the Lei Yue Mun Gap, which is the eastern entrance to Hong Kong

Harbour. The mental picture that I am trying to create here is the absolutely magical moment created when the

aircraft flies through the Gap, all around is the darkness we have been in for the past 1½ hours, and then quite

suddenly, laid out before you is this glittering jewel, Hong Kong.

Continued from Part 1. of Gary Sommerville’s musings.

Harbour Circuit.

Once we have passed through the Lei Yue Mun Gap we are about to fly a night time visual Harbour circuit,

something that only two airlines have approval to do, the resident airline Cathay Pacific and Air New Zealand. From

memory this was because the handling characteristics of the DC-8 and Cathay Pacific’s Convair 880’s made these

aircraft more capable than the Boeing 707 in this tight environment. Additionally the Air New Zealand Sydney

based crews were specially trained and experienced in this inner harbour procedure.

We will fly around the Harbour's edge below the tops of the Island's peaks and level with the top floors of the

highest buildings. On both sides it is a blaze of light, with millions of brightly coloured neon advertising lights, none

of which are permitted to flash. Only the lights associated with the airport are permitted to flash, as the runway is

literally in this bustling city. A right hand turn is commenced to

pass over Stone Cutters Island, where we now start looking for the

Checker Board, a large flat piece of rock carved out of the high

granite hills that we are heading straight for. The Checker board is

probably 200 feet by 150 feet and is painted in red and white

squares and is floodlit. We fly at the Checker Board and the

runway appears at right angles to the flight path. At the

appropriate moment the final right hand turn is made to line up

with the runway. All around are tall buildings and we fly the path

among them, right to the airfield's boundary fence, and then we

are clear of them and safely on the concrete of the runway.

The translation of the Cantonese word 'Hong Kong' is 'Fragrant Harbour'. As the aircraft's wheels brush the concrete,

the Pressurisation System's Outflow valves run fully open and the smell of the Fragrant Harbour flows into the

aircraft. Something akin to rotting vegetation steeped in fish oil and diesel. After 30 minutes the nostrils are

perfectly attuned to the odour, and you do not notice it at all during the rest of your three or four day stay. Not until

you get back home and open your suitcase, then you get an instant replay.

Harbour circuit profile

If the weather does not permit a visual Harbour circuit, then an instrument approach is made from the south from

behind Hong Kong Island to 'home in' on a Non Directional Beacon on Cheung Chau Island, then tracking in to

Stone Cutters Island taking care not to knock Green Island on the way in or for that matter the very large and very

high Lantau Island to the left.

It would be appropriate at this point to add a mention of the integrated crew concept which was employed during

every phase of flight but none more so than during this type of approach and landing at Kai Tak. The DC-8 had a

basic cockpit crew complement of three. Captain’ First Officer and Flight Engineer. The aircraft could not be

operated without the basic three. It could fly any sectors of any length using Airways information (radio beams from

ground based stations) for navigation, but for off-shore operations a Navigator was added to the basic crew. For ultra-

long-haul sectors a third pilot was added.

For the Descent – Approach and Landing phases the third pilot and Navigator became observers and took an overall

monitoring role of the flights progress and actions of the basic three. During this and any other approach the basic

crew concept requires specific tasks to be performed by each crew member in concert and all designed to support the

Pilot Flying. The Pilot in Command had the responsibility of conducting the flight to a safe and satisfactory

conclusion and to do so utilised all resources available to him including the specialist skills of his fellow crew

members. The type of approach described for Kai Tak required the Pilot in Command to spent most of his time

‘head up – eyes outside’ looking where he is going hand flying by instinct and experience, with quick glances inside

at his instruments whilst making requests of his crew members to configure the machine at various stages of the

approach. The First Officer’s main role was ‘head down – eyes inside’ for most of the approach, locked on to the

critical flight instruments – Speed – Altitude - Attitude – Flight Path, dialling in new compass heading information

and radio frequencies at the appropriate times and reconfiguring the shape of the machine as it slows down by

setting flap positions and lowing the landing gear when requested.

As we all rely on the machine to perform at its best during these critical phases of flight it was incumbent upon the

Flight Engineer to ensure the machine, the whole package, mechanically, electrically, hydraulically, pneumatically

etc. was functioning as required – when required by the pilots actions particularly as some of the major components

of the craft have lain dormant for most of the flight and will only be bought in to use in the final stages of the

journey. Wing Flaps and Landing gear being the main ones.

As an example of the integrated crew concept -- at the appropriate point in the busy approach procedure the Pilot in

Command would call for one of the many wing flap settings - the Pilot not Flying would confirm from his

instruments the aircraft’s speed is in the correct range then make the flap lever selection. The Flight Engineer would

check the speed range is correct for the proposed flap setting by cross checking the pre-determined speed/weight

graph figures with both the Captain’s and First Officers Airspeed indicators (thereby checking the validity of both sets of

instruments -- which have different input sources designed to prevent both sets of instruments reading the same but erroneously).

He would then check the Pilot not Flying did in fact place the flap lever in the correct position detent, then monitor

the flap position indicator to see the flaps on both sides of the aircraft run in unison (to prevent the aircraft from rolling

over) – and to the correct position, at the same time observing the correct operation and response from the hydraulic

systems driving the flaps. These back up actions by the other crew members allows the Pilot Flying to remain ‘head

up -eyes out’ and in the full and sure knowledge that what he asked for is what he will get. The Flight Engineer’s

actions allow both pilots to monitor the flights progress and not have to monitor the machines physical configuration

changes. When the Pilot Flying made a change (and there are many) to the engines power output to increase/decrease

aircraft speed/altitude, he would grab all 4 engine Power Levers and push them forward or pull them back. A slight

twist of the wrist may cause the two engines on one side of the aircraft to advance or retard more than the two on the

other side resulting in an unwanted swing of the aircraft’s nose off the heading required to maintain the very tight

exacting flight profile. The Flight Engineer constantly refined the pilot’s engine power lever settings to ensure even

engine power distribution across the ship. There were many actions and procedures required to get our high speed

streamlined machine reconfigured for slow speed – high lift flight and to follow a complicated flight profile through

dangerous terrain in all sorts of weather, and for Air New Zealand it was always after dark. It was very busy time

involving the whole crew.

With the passing of the narrow body era (DC-8, Boeing 707, Convair 880 etc.) and arrival of the wide bodies (DC-10,

Boeing 747) the Instrument Guidance System (IGS) for approaches was introduced: No longer were Harbour circuits

flown, or the less demanding Cheung Chau approach between the very high ground of Lantau Island and Hong

Kong (Victoria) Island flown. The IGS provided an almost straight in approach to runway 13 but with a last minute

turn on to the runway threshold but not as tight and severe as in the narrow body days.

The Vietnam War was in full swing

and there was a lot of unrest in the world. Hong Kong was being affected by a spin-off from the Cultural Revolution

in China causing riots in the streets. Large scale riots erupted in Hong Kong in May 1967. Pro-communist leftists in

Hong Kong, inspired by the Cultural Revolution in the People’s Republic of China (PRC), turned a labour dispute

into large scale anti-British Colonial rule demonstrations. Demonstrators clashed with police and turned violent.

Instigated by events in the PRC, leftists called for massive strikes and organized numerous demonstrations, while

the police stormed the leftist’s strongholds and put their active leaders under arrest. Riots turned more violent when

the leftists resorted to terrorists attacks, daily planting newspaper wrapped fake and real bombs in the city streets,

and murdering members of the press who voiced opinions against their actions. By the time the riots finally

subsided, 51 people had been killed and over 800 had been wounded.

To escape from this atmosphere on one trip, the whole DC-8 crew numbering ten, hired the Hilton Hotel's two

masted sailing boat, the 'Jardalinka', and went for a Harbour picnic cruise. The Jardalinka was a wooden hulled boat

built in the style of the old time sailing ships of the early British Colonial days. It came complete with crew. Earlier

in the day, a visit to the local shops had taken place to get the breads and fillings for the picnic lunch. A quantity of

brown beverage was also purchased.

The day started with a cruise around the inner Harbour where most, in

fact all of the brown beverage was consumed fairly quickly. A decision

was made as we were passing Wanchai (a seedier part of town in the '60s) to

replenish the supply. The method of getting ashore was to flag down a

passing sampan a small flat bottomed boat propelled by sculling a single

oar at the rear, and negotiate a price for the two-way journey. No-one

was keen to volunteer to make the trip but the need was urgent. It was

settled by drawing straws. The lucky lad was Ron Mercer, an erstwhile

member of our Cabin Crew. The hat was passed around to fund the

venture and Ron was lowered over the side into the Sampan and was last

seen nervously crouched in the front of the craft pushing through the flotsam and jetsam that littered the water.

A considerable period of time passed and no sign of Ron. Concern was now being expressed. This increased when

from the shore came the rattle of gunfire, or at least it sounded like gunfire to concerned friends, followed shortly

after by the wail of sirens. “The bugger's have got Ron!" was the cry. Anxious time went by (a lack of volunteers to go and

search), and finally out of the gaggle of bobbing craft, appears a triumphant Ron with a couple of cartons precariously

balanced in the centre of the small boat sitting very low in the water. The burst of ‘gunfire’ was a string or two of

firecrackers causing Ron to take temporary refuge in the dark alleyways of Wanchai. Then the search for a supplier

of brown stuff was further hindered by the language barrier. Elbow bending sign language finally led him to his

goal, and safe return to his by now parched buddies. Lunch in Clearwater bay made for a great day away from the

drama of the streets, and we returned as the sun was setting.

During this time the decommissioned British Ocean Liner the 'Queen Elizabeth'

sister ship to the 'Queen Mary' which now resides in Long

Beach California, was purchased by Hong Kong interests.

The purpose was to rebuild the interior of this massive ship

and turn it in to the floating Seawise University. Dissident

groups in Hong Kong that opposed anything British set fire to

the ship and it burnt out of control for several days. Finally the

ship rolled over and sank at its moorings, just to the east of

Stone Cutters Island in Hong Kong Harbour. The water was

not deep enough to cover the ship completely and I still

vividly recall seeing this once proud and famous ship, upside

down with just the blackened keel and underside staring up at

the sun. What a sad sight.

27th

July 1969. Hong Kong-Darwin-Brisbane-Sydney. ZK-NZC. Flight TE222. Flight time 10:41. Captain Rex Mangin. F/E Gary Sommerville.

Typhoon Viola

On the night of this departure from Hong Kong for the

scheduled non-stop flight to Brisbane Typhoon Viola was

situated near Manila and spilling out into the South China Sea.

The winds at Kai Tak airport in Hong Kong, produced by

Viola necessitated taking off towards the north-west on

runway 31. (310° compass heading). Because of the high terrain

off this end of the runway, a good climb performance was

necessary, combined with a turning flight path not long after

becoming airborne. DC-8 departing from runway 31 Kai Tak.

Because of these performance requirements, we were always

weight limited when using the runway in this direction. To

make the aeroplane with its full complement of passengers

light enough to comply meant we had to take a lesser fuel load, insufficient to make the non-stop journey to

Brisbane. Our normal en-route re-fuelling stop on these occasions would be Manila, 1½ hours flying time away. To

carry sufficient fuel for a 1½ hour sector meant that the aircraft's take-off weight out of Hong Kong would be really

light and we could comply with the requirements with ease. This night however, Viola had not only dictated that we

take-off towards the north-west, she had also closed Manila airport. We could load sufficient fuel to get us to

Darwin, plus reserves, and still just fit into the take-off and climb performance profile for the north-west runway.

Being heavier also meant that our initial level off altitude for cruise would be lower until the aeroplane was

lightened by fuel burn-off several hours later. The type of Navigation equipment and Air Traffic Control of the early

DC-8 era meant that we would have to fly the Airways across the South China Sea and overhead Manila en-route to

Darwin.

What all this was culminating in was we were going to have to fly through Viola to overhead Manila.

It is fair to say that in these times the standard of Air Traffic Control at Manila was lacking, and crews of all airlines

were very wary when dealing with them. We certainly were and later I shall record some hairy experiences that Rex

Mangin the Captain on this day, and I along with our fellow crew members had in the Manila Control Area.

We got airborne after dark as normal. All our south bound departures out of Hong Kong were evening departures,

followed by long night sectors. After making our sweeping climb-out to the left and around behind Hong Kong

Island we set course for Manila and entered cloud that was the edge of Viola.

The centre of Viola was quite some distance to the north of our track so she was reasonably kind to us and the ride

wasn't too uncomfortable. Because of our weight and the high tropical temperatures at this latitude, the climb

performance to our initial cruise level of 31,000 feet was slow and laborious. Finally we reached our goal and settled

down in cruise. We had completed the 'Cruise' Checklist items, and were busy with our own individual tasks. We all

took an interest in the weather radar picture that was showing us where the storm cells were and outside the pitch

blackness would suddenly light up, not too infrequently, with a brilliant flash of white lightning.

Then the order came from Manila Air Traffic Control, “New Zealand 222. Climb now. Flight Level Three Three Zero".

"Ask him what for?” said Rex to the Co-pilot, who handles all radio communications. As soon as the ATC request

came through I reached for the Climb Performance graph, to see if we could make 33,000 feet at this weight, and

concluded that we could, but we would be right at the maximum high point of the Buffet Boundary graph. A point

with a percentage safety margin built in. The allocation of Flight Levels (FL) on any Airway are such that aircraft

flying in one direction, will always be allocated levels 4,000 feet apart, 31,000 feet (Flight Level Three One-Zero) [FL

31-0]), 35,0000 feet (FL 35-0) and 39,000 feet (FL 39-0). Aircraft flying the reciprocal heading, i.e. the opposite

direction, would be allocated Flight Levels 29-zero, 33-zero and 37-zero. This keeps aeroplanes flying towards each

other, 2,000 feet apart. Aeroplanes flying in the same direction at the same altitude are always kept 200 miles apart.

Rex was obviously aware that this was a non-standard altitude for the direction in which we were flying, hence his

"What for"? Back came the urgent reply in Filipino English. “New Zealand 222. Climb now, Climb now. Flight Level

Three Three Zero". "Right lets go. Give me Climb Power Gary" said Rex and I could tell by the tone of his voice that

he wasn't all that happy. We lumbered up to 33,000 feet and I would say not 30 seconds later, Manila Control almost

shrieked at us, “New Zealand 222. Climb immediately. Climb Immediately. Flight Level Three Five Zero, Three Five

Zero - I say again Three Five Zero. Cross Traffic 12 miles ahead!'

Twelve miles ahead! At this speed that's about one and a half minutes, that is if the other aircraft is crossing our

track, not coming towards us, otherwise it's 45 seconds. Rex didn't wait to ask me to set the Climb Power, he just

pushed the throttles forward and raised the nose of the aircraft, saying "Refine that" meaning, for me set the engine

power at the maximum. I started to say that this is going to put us over the top of the performance graph into ‘Coffin

Corner’. "Just do it and give me the best you've got" said Rex with obvious strain in his voice. By now I'm crouching a

lot lower in my seat, and like the others, silently crapping myself. We literally wallowed up to 35,000 feet, 4,000

feet above our Flight Planned altitude, off the top of the Buffet Boundary graph, in light to moderate turbulence, in

pitch darkness, except for the occasional burst of bright white light outside, with Rex casting doubts upon the

Filipino's parentage. A sentiment with which we all agreed.

Our passengers are well into their second glass of wine and a hearty meal by this time, and blissfully unaware. We

never saw the other Aluminium Tube with its load of happy holiday makers and I bet to this day they don't realise

how close they were to having their future plans dramatically altered. After a short while we were able to descend to

our correct altitude and said farewell to Viola, and the rest of the night to Brisbane via our refuelling stop at Darwin

was undisturbed, except for the urgent scratching of Rex's pen, as he wrote in his Captain's Flight Report.

These days aircraft are fitted with T.C.A.S. Traffic Alerting, and Collision Avoidance System, a wonderful device

where aeroplanes know electronically where each other are, and have the ability to talk to each other electronically

without the crew's knowledge, then if a conflict is on the cards, a computerised voice warns the crew and advises

what corrective action to take. The T.C.A.S system on each aircraft has told the other aircraft's T.C.A.S. system its

geographical position, it's altitude, heading, speed, whether its climbing or descending, and at what rate, and

between the two of them, the computers will work out which aircraft should descend, and which one should climb.

Which aircraft should turn and in what direction. This conflict resolution is presented to the crew on the instrument

panel, and all the crew has to do is follow the instructions. A moving pictorial display is part of the system and the

crew is always situationally aware of where the other aircraft is. Conflict resolution takes place when the aircraft are

quite some distance from each other, so there is no urgency, and the corrective movements of the aircraft should

practically go unnoticed by the passengers.

The Weather Radar in the DC-8 era was fairly basic, black with shades of grey with the really bad bits showing up

as a ragged black hole in the middle of the cloud. The magenta bit on modern day radars.

7th

August 1969. Sydney - Manila. ZK-NZE. Flight time 9:20. Captain Jack Shorthouse and Auckland based Captain Frank Kilgour.

Carriage of spare engine in the 5th pod position.

The day before Captain 'Spike' Jones,

two First Officers and Flight Engineer

Nick Caulton were en-route to Hong

Kong in ZK-NZC, and were

approaching overhead Manila in the

Philippines, when number two engine

suddenly lost its oil quantity. The

engine was shut down and a three

engine landing made in Manila. No

spare engines were available in Manila

though this was the home base of

Philippine Airlines which also operated DC-8's. So 'Spike', plus crew and passengers retired to a Manila hotel to

await developments.

As can be imagined it’s an expensive exercise having an aeroplane idle on the ground and a load of passengers

having an unexpected holiday at Air New Zealand's expense. A plan was rapidly formed in Auckland to use an

aeroplane which had just come off a hangar check. It would be fitted with the replacement engine in the 5th

pod

position, under the left wing between the wing root and the inboard engine. The complete nose cowling and tail pipe

would be removed, and then a fairing placed over the engine intake to reduce drag from the dead engine. The nose

cowl and exhaust system from the sick engine would be fitted to the new engine on arrival in Manila. The aircraft

would be flown to Sydney empty, except for Company ground engineers who would do the engine change, and a

couple of Cabin Staff to look after them.

The aircraft duly departed Auckland with an expert Training establishment crew who were proficient in the

operation of an aeroplane with a 5th

Pod. The fact that this was the first 5th

Pod operation the Company had

undertaken warranted the attention of the 'Top Brass'. Unfortunately they weren't going to be able to fit the whole

duty, Auckland-Sydney-Manila, into the confines of flight-time limitations, so they could only do the initial

Auckland–Sydney sector. As I have mentioned earlier, 5th

Pod operation was a closed book to the rank and file and

was not covered in depth on the Type Rating Course. It was assumed that the need for a 5th

Pod Ferry would be a

very rare occurrence. This assumption was based on the premise that an engine failure would always occur within

flying distance of a base where Air New Zealand had a spare engine available, either one of theirs or a 'Pool' engine,

one which is shared by other operators that transited through the same base. So the rare 5th

Pod ferry operation was

always going to be performed by the specially trained few from the senior training staff. When it was realised that

the Auckland based crew wouldn't legally be able to fly the whole duty, they had to bite the bullet and roster an

ordinary line crew to do the long Sydney - Manila sector.

So it came to pass on my day off in Sydney, I received a phone call telling me of the development and that I was

going to fly the sector with Flight Engineer Bill Wallace. I immediately rang Bill at his Coogee Beach address and

said, “What do you know about 5th Pod operation Bill". "Nothing!” was the emphatic reply. We agreed to arrive at the

airport an hour or so earlier than required, bearing the relevant section of the manual. This we did, and conducted

our own crash course on fuel management during 5th

Pod carriage and the different more stringent operating

limitations of the aircraft.

When you have four engines being fed fuel from two evenly balanced fuel supplies in the wings, fuel management is

relatively simple. When you have an extra few tons of dead weight hanging under a wing (the 5th Pod), then the

aircraft is going to be severely unbalanced in flight, unless the equivalent extra weight in unusable fuel is loaded in

the opposite wing. Because the fuel weight cannot be placed in the opposite wing in exactly the same place as the 5th

Pod's centre-of-weight, it has to be spread out through the four opposite wing tanks so the resultant centre-of-weight

is the same. This is what complicates 5th

Pod fuel management, feeding fuel evenly to four engines from nine

different tanks that have widely differing fuel quantities and spread at varying distances about the aircraft’s centre-

of-gravity. There is also the need to look after the integrity of the wing structure with uneven wing bending

moments with different fuel loads on each side, and also fore-and-aft equilibrium.

The fuel is housed in a swept wing in which the fuel weight gets lighter as it progresses outboard in the tapered

wing. The largest tank by far is the Centre Wing Tank which is the forward-most tank, and the one with the biggest

effect on the aircraft’s centre-of-gravity as the fuel is burnt off. Should the unthinkable happen, and an engine failure

occur when carrying a 5th

Pod, then the fuel management becomes even more complicated, so Bill and I had quite a

bit of reading to do.

Late afternoon and we lined up at the start point of Sydney’s runway 34 heading north in the general direction of

downtown Sydney. Runway 16-34 has since had two extensions to its length, so in comparison with present day

runway 34, it must have looked a tad short to Frank Kilgour as we lined up. All the sums had been done and the

aircraft was going to satisfy the requirements, but that didn't stop Frank quietly putting all four engines gently in

reverse and backing up a bit to give him a little more distance to play with. A strict no-no I might add, backing up a

DC-8 using reverse, but I quietly thought it was a good idea too.

When we reached our cruising flight level and had been underway for a while, it gradually dawned on me that the

published procedure in the Douglas Aircraft Company manual for 5th

Pod fuel management with Centre-Wing-Tank

fuel was either being misinterpreted by me, or was ambiguous, or -- totally wrong. I called Bill Wallace up from his

resting place and revealed my concerns to him. I asked him to follow me through the procedure as I had interpreted

it, and if I was thick, put me straight, or -- did he agree that Mr Douglas had maybe got it wrong. Bill agreed with

me so we put our case to the two Captains who nodded wisely and asked us for a suggested remedy. This we were

able to supply, and they indicated we had better get on with it smartly.

Captain Kilgour reported the discrepancy on his return to Auckland and after consultation, the Douglas Aircraft

Company said Oops!, and the procedure was rewritten then promulgated to all DC-8 operators worldwide. The

question might be asked, why this discrepancy had not been discovered earlier by another DC-8 operator. After all

Air New Zealand was not one of the first operators of DC-8s, though it was one of the first operators to fly long-haul

sectors, by necessity due to our geographical isolation. Probably one of the first to take delivery of the new longer

range DC-8 fitted with the large Centre-Wing-Tank (CWT). I don’t know how many previous occasions warranted

other operators to fly with a 5th

Pod but I suspect very few, and I further suspect none of those were long-haul,

necessitating use of CWT fuel. A DC-8 fitted with a 5th

Pod cruises a lot slower so our flight time of 9:20 was just

over an hour longer than the normal four engine cruise time Sydney to Manila.

Though I had made a few re-fuelling stops at Manila airport this was the first visit into the city and my first

overnight stay. We arrived after dark and the place we stayed in was the Hotel Filipinas. Sounds a bit rude but that's

what they called it. I entered the room with my suitcase and briefcase then turned to shut the door noticing on the

inside three deadlocks top, bottom, and centre in addition to the normal lock. Pretty tight security I thought, I

wonder why. I had a shower and turned on the black and white TV (colour was still a few years away). The evening

news was under way. The second item was about a woman, dead, with a machete sticking out of her chest. With

casual nonchalance the policeman turned her over with his foot so the camera could record the blade protruding

about four inches out of her back. All the commentary was in local language but the story-line was abundantly clear.

We had arranged to meet downstairs to find a place for a beer and a meal. Because Manila was not a regular stop, no

system was in place to distribute the normal expenses we received in local currency to feed ourselves at whatever

place we chose during a stopover. On this occasion we had no choice of eating places other than the main dining

room in the Hotel Filipinas, for which the Company picked up the tab. The reason I mention this, is as follows. The

dining room was decorated in a red theme. Red curtains, red leather seats, red napkins, red wine, red ceiling and

table lights. Red. Red. Red. As usual, after a long day in the very dry environment of a high altitude air-conditioned

aeroplane we were tired. When the menu was offered my eye caught the entry, “A pound (weight) of finest Philippine Steak Tartare, with egg”. I thought “That sounds like me. Steak and eggs", and I had tried Tartare sauce

with some fish once and liked it. I know what you're thinking, but remember I'm the boy from 1940’s Papakura, the

town which didn’t have a restaurant when I was growing up, although it had a fish and chip shop where you could

sit down to eat. The red raw finely minced steak duly arrives, mounded up to look like one of the local features, a

volcanic cone and in the crater was the egg. Raw! With the red light reflecting off the egg white it looked like hot

lava. The red meat under the red lights didn't ring any Yuck alarm bells. I did notice between swigs of red wine that

it was a bit tasteless and perhaps needed a little salt or something, and the texture was sort of smooth and porridge

like. I guess I was about halfway through this when one of the more knowledgeable members of the crew, probably

put off by the vampire like red dribble coming from the corner of my mouth, said in disgust, “I don't know how you

can eat that revolting stuff". “What" I protested, and added innocently, "What's wrong with steak and eggs". "Because

the bloody stuff's raw that's why you dumb bugger, even the eggs raw!" Well you could have whacked me with a red

salmon! Nothing deters you when you are driven by hunger and a little red wine, so I called the waiter over and

asked if he wouldn't mind having this cooked. To hoots of derisive laughter from my friends, the plate was borne

away and returned later as very large hamburger pattie with fried egg on top. Very tasty.

The tireless ground crew who had flown all the way from Auckland were at this moment preparing to work through

the night to dismount the 5th

podded engine. As soon as the 5th

Pod was removed from the aircraft we flew up from

Sydney, 'Spike' and his crew took this aeroplane and his passengers on to Hong Kong. The oil-less engine was

removed from ZK-NZC and refitted to its own 5th

Pod position and the replacement engine we flew up from Sydney

was fitted to NZC’s N°2 position. This was going to take all night and in the morning these fine ground engineers

were to sleep on the aircraft as we returned to Sydney. A worthy bunch of men.

When I returned to my room after that memorable dinner, I took great care to see the door was locked and all the

dead bolts were in place. I slept reasonably well. In the morning after a shower and the suitcase was repacked I

pulled back the one curtain in the room. This revealed a small partly opened window with a broken latch, which

opened out on to a gently sloping roof which ended about three feet above the pavement of the back alley of the

Hotel Fill-a-penis. Oh well the machete would have slipped through the finely minced Steak Tartare, with relative

ease. The journey back to Sydney with our tired ground men and oil-less 5th

Pod went without a hitch and aided by a

good strong tailwind covered the distance in 8:05. Bill Wallace and I used our modified fuel management procedure

which eventually became the Douglas standard.

7th

January 1970. Sydney-Manila-Hong Kong. ZK-NZE. Flight TE221. Flight time 9:36. Captain Rex Mangin.

Close encounter with World Airways B-727.

Late evening and we had just reached top of climb out of Manila after a refuelling stop en-route to Hong Kong. The

sky was clear and the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon. There was a faint glow in the west which

still gave a discernible horizon.

The Vietnam War was still in progress and in this area there was always a lot of American air traffic. The American

Clarke Air force base was near our track. World Airways did a lot of Troop transporting; particularly R and R

flights, R and R being Rest and Recuperation for the fighting men in Vietnam. After some months in the front line

each serviceman was given three weeks to recuperate at an R and R destination of their choice. These were specified

locations and as far as I know did not include Mainland America and I assume this was to ensure that the people did

return to the war. Some of the R and R destinations I recall were Sydney, Hong Kong and Hawaii -- there were

others.

Rex as I have mentioned before

was very wary in Philippine

airspace and this evening had

picked up radio transmissions

between an inbound World

Airways flight and Manila

Control. He heard the descent

clearance given to World Airways

but had no indication of where the

aeroplane was.

At this time we were in the area of Cabanatuan passing Mt Pinatubo and heading for Poro Point. So we were all

scanning the area ahead when Rex pointed out to the left and said “Got him". There was this B-727 clearly etched

against the fading glow of the horizon nose down slightly and descending through our altitude not more than half a

mile off our port wingtip.

It is Air Traffic's responsibility to absolutely ensure that two aircraft on opposing headings remain at their assigned

altitudes until the passing has been positively confirmed, either by both crews reporting a visual sighting of each

other, or clear evidence on Air Traffic's radar. It is also Air Traffic's responsibility to make each aircraft aware of the

others close proximity. Manila Air Traffic Control failed on all counts. Rex immediately got on the radio and spoke

to Manila Control and expressed his dissatisfaction and advised that he would be submitting a Violation Report. The

Controller was not forthcoming with an explanation or apology. I personally at this point had made eighteen

landings at Manila during the course of this basing, and on each occasion had a measure of misgiving when being

handled by Philippine controllers.

12th

January 1969. Hong Kong – Manila – Brisbane - Sydney. ZK-NZE. Flight TE222. Flight time 9:08.

Captain Roger Dalziell. F/E Gary Sommerville.

After the Manila refuelling stop en-route Hong Kong - Brisbane we

were taxiing from the Terminal building to the take-off point. We were

moving along the concrete taxi way which had no edge lighting and the

only illumination on this relatively dark night was from our aircraft's

runway turn-off lights mounted on the nose undercarriage leg.

Suddenly out of the darkness loomed a barefoot local man in black

shorts and short sleeved shirt, on a bicycle without lights, pedalling

furiously in the same direction as the aircraft. Quick as a flash he

veered off into the darkness and was not seen again.

Trailing behind us on the taxiway was a British Airways Boeing-707

which had also lobbed into Manila for extra fuel. We arrived at the

take-off point and were just about to release the brakes when dead

ahead in the pitch blackness a brilliant lightning flash about three miles

off the end of the runway lit up the surrounding terrain. Roger had a

fiddle with the radar tilt and imaged a very large ominous CB

(thunderstorm) directly in our path, and declared he wasn't about to take-

off into that thank you. Manila Control then cleared us for an immediate take-off because the British Airways

Boeing-707 was waiting at the take-off holding point directly behind us. Roger declared that he was not going to

take-off for an estimated five minutes until the significant weather directly off the end of the runway had moved off.

Manila Control then advised "New Zealand 222.Taxi straight ahead to the next off-ramp and vacate the runway

immediately. ‘Speedbird’ 581 (British Airways call-sign) taxi into position and hold. Clear to take-off when the New

Zealand aircraft has cleared the runway". A very cultured English voice replied. “Manila Corn trowl --- If the New

Zealand chappies aren't taking orf into that weather --- then neither am aye". Manila Control then advised us to hold

our position and to advise when we ready to take-off.

There were occasions when we flew in the Manila area

we would encounter American aircraft movements that were associated with the Vietnam War. None more

spectacular than the sight of a flight of giant B-52 bombers passing from west to east in front of us. The sun had long

gone over the horizon and a full moon had taken its place in the cloudless sky. At this stage in our journey we would

be at 39, 000 feet and the B-52's had to be at 50,000 feet or more returning to their base at Guam in Micronesia after

a bombing run over Vietnam.

A six aircraft formation would have between them 48 engines, eight each. Hot exhaust gasses hitting the -60°C

outside air temperature produced long condensation trails from each of the 48 engines, which stretched behind them

for perhaps 100 miles. It was very difficult to make out the shapes of the aeroplanes because of the dull grey colour

they were painted, but the multitude of straight bright silver trails was quite an awe inspiring sight. They looked

captivatingly beautiful, and at the same time sinister and deadly.

30th

November 1969. Hong Kong-Brisbane-Sydney. ZK-NZA. Flight TE222. Flight time 8:39. Captain Eddie Tredrea. F/E Gary Sommerville.

163 people on board. Aircraft ran out of potable water one and a half hours out of Brisbane. All tea drinkers. Elderly

relatives of English migrants visiting for Christmas. Cabin crew sold about 6 cans of beer during the entire journey.

Boeing 707-328 Air France 1960’s.

Victoria Island Hong Kong skyline in the background.

The building in the shape of a T is on the North Point shoreline. In the 1960’s we would take a vehicular ferry from North Point to get to Kowloon side en-route to the airport. Buildings to the right are in Causeway Bay

H.M.A.S Hobart was a fighting ship of the Royal Australian Navy. A Charles F. Adams class guided missile destroyer, 133.2 m (437 ft.) long, 14.3 m (47 ft.) beam and a displacement of 4,720 tonnes. Her maximum speed was in excess of 30 knots and manned by 20 officers and 312 crew. Affectionately known as the ‘Green Ghost’. HMAS Hobart completed three 6 month tours of duty off the coast of Vietnam in 1967, 1968 and 1970.

Early on the morning of June 17th

1968 Hobart detected an aircraft approaching her from the vicinity of Cap Lay and

evaluated it as 'friendly'. In the meantime whilst Hobart had been trying to establish the aircraft’s identity the aircraft

launched a missile which hit her amidships on the starboard side, immediately aft of the boat davit. H.M.A.S Hobart

The warhead passed through 1 Deck and penetrated the

Chief Petty Officers Pantry, Radar Room 3, the Missile

Director Control Room and severely damaging the

Emergency Conning Platform. The body of the missile

then passed through the outer skin of the after funnel

damaging its uptakes and finished up in the forward

funnel. In its passage it killed one Seaman and wounded

two others. Hobart's crew clambered to Action Stations

and 3 ½ minutes later another two missiles fired from close

range slammed into her starboard side again. The 2nd

missile entered her transom just below 1 Deck wrecking the Gunner's Store and Engineers Workshop; luckily the

warhead did not explode. The 80 Man Aft Seamen's Mess wore a large part of this missile! The 3rd

missile hit her

very near the site of the first and the warhead passed through the Fan Space, Missile Director Equipment Room and

No 2 Missile Director. A Chief Electrician was killed and several sailors wounded by part of the missile warhead.

The Ikara Missile Magazine was also seriously damaged.

As Hobart turned away from the threat direction the aircraft was seen to be a swept wing jet fighter. Hobart got

away 5 rounds of 5inch and no further attack was made. Hobart steamed for Subic Bay in the Philippines. The crew

cleared the debris and collected pieces of missile for identification. It was only then it was realised that the missiles

had been fired from United States Aircraft. Hobart had been one of several ships attacked by US 7th

Air Force jets

on the nights of the 16th

and 17th

June1968. On the 16th

USS PCF19 was sunk near the DMZ with 5 killed and on the

17th

Hobart, Boston and Edson were attacked. Edson 15 minutes after Hobart as were 'Market Time' vessels USCGC

Point Dume WPB82325 and PCF12, a US Navy Patrol Craft. Boston and Hobart both took hits but only Hobart

suffered fatalities.

Damage Assessment Subic Bay

Some months later after repairs and lots of apologies from the

Americans, the Hobart returned to the war, and eventually arrived

in Hong Kong Harbour on a Rest and Recreation stop.

There was a watering hole in Kowloon by the Ocean Terminal and

near the Star Ferry Terminal called Pier One. There was one

entrance to this place and a long staircase to descend to the bar

floor. Looking back up the staircase and through the open door

when an Ocean Liner was parked at the Ocean Terminal pier gave

the distinct impression that you were well below sea level, as the

bow of the ship reared so high above the door frame.

One evening Derek Stubbs and I called in to have a quiet beer on

the way back to the Hilton after a meal, and fell into conversation

with three Aussie sailors off the Hobart. They had probably been

there most of the day enjoying their break from the war. Shortly

after, the tallest sailor in the group stood up to make a point in the

conversation. The eyes rolled back in the head and he slumped to

the floor and went into a sound sleep. No amount of effort by his

companions was going to rouse him. His mates being much smaller could not lift him either so they requested the

assistance of their Kiwi neighbours to help carry him back to the ship. This meant a short walk from the Pier One to

the Star Ferry, a ten minute Harbour crossing, and short walk to the British Naval Base a few hundred yards from

the Hilton Hotel. How could we refuse our Trans -Tasman neighbours in their hour of need? Derek himself is a big

strong lad and the job was completed without much fuss.

Because this was a ship at war tied up to a British Naval Base security was quite tight and a place where Derek and I

had no right to be. Our Aussie hosts were very convincing to the British guard on the gate and had no trouble with

the Aussie guard at the bottom of the gangway. We got our charge onto the ship and his mates dispatched him to his

hammock then showing typical Australian hospitality, insisted on shouting Derek and I a beer before we

disembarked. We were shown to some place in the bowels of the ship in amongst miles of stainless steel pipes and

sat there sipping beer and being regaled by stories of the war. Our new found friends as I have mentioned had been

partaking for most of the day and were very forthcoming with an account of the attack on Hobart by the US

Phantoms jets. It transpired the smallest of the pair was a radar operator and said since the 'incident' it was

discovered one of the radio frequencies emitted by their radar had an effect on the auto-pilot of a Phantom jet. By

joggling the radar antenna up and down it could cause the auto-pilot to pitch the aircraft up and down and usually

caused the odd expletive to come from the American pilot. They said, and I am sure it was more in jest, that if they

picked up a bogey heading towards the ship, they would joggle the radar antenna up and down. If they heard an

American swearing, they knew it was a 'friendly' coming --- and got ready to shoot it down.

"Come and 'ave a look at me radar mate", slurred Small Sailor and got to his feet and motioned us to follow him as he

weaved his way through the steam pipes. I was a little nervous about this and imagined ending up in the Brig as we

most certainly should not have been where we were. My fears increased when we moved through doors with signs

stating 'No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only' then finally the door to the Radar Room with big red letters,

'Strictly No Admittance. Authorised Personnel Only. Classified Equipment'. Small Sailor did his secret stuff with the

door key pad, banged it open with a flourish, and said "Come een mates and 'ave a dekko at theese lot". It was with

some relief that we returned to the steam room. Then without warning the Officer of the Watch appeared with a

couple of guard type men and said in cultured Officer speak, “Who are these bastards ? and what are they doing

here?". Small Sailor and his companion explained the situation with Tall Drunk Heavy sailor, and how in their time

of need, these good old Kiwi neighbour blokes had come to their aid. To show his gratitude the Officer of the Watch

then said " Well get these bastards off the sheep now", and Derek and I were unceremoniously escorted down the

gangway and off the sheep (ship, in case you were wondering), and shown the front gate by the guard type men. So the

small exercise in fostering better Trans-Tasman relations came to a quiet end.

Hong Kong Harbour Crossings.

Until the late 1960s, the only way to cross the Harbour between Kowloon and Hong Kong Island was by surface

water traffic. By far the largest people mover was the Star Ferry Company. A continuous service ran from 6:30 in

the morning to midnight, crossing time ten minutes. There would be at least two ferries at the pier at any one time on

each side of the Harbour, and two more making the crossing. The main Harbour traffic flow was from the east or

west, large cargo ships to high speed launches to slow chugging junks. The ferries plied their trade at right angles to

this busy water way and the skills of the mariners was a delight to behold. The Star Ferry Company started

operations in 1898 and has provided this wonderful cheap reliable service ever since. There were twelve ferries in

the fleet and all had 'Starry' names. Twinkling Star, Morning Star, Evening Star, Shining Star, Celestial Star,

Meridian Star etc. The top deck was First Class with a fare of 20 Hong Kong cents, and the lower deck was Second

Class with a fare of 10 cents (1960's exchange rate - $6 Hong Kong to $1 NZ). I always travelled 2nd

class in the winter

because I could sit with my back to the funnel and keep warm.

1st class on the top deck was glassed in front, open in the middle and glassed at the rear (which became the front on the return journey). 2nd class downstairs was open to the elements.

Occasionally a tired airman would nod off during a late evening crossing, and one of our number, Flight Engineer

Les Sutherland chose the forward most seat in the bow of 1st Class, when returning from Kowloon side at about 9

p.m. Most of the seating was lateral rows across the ship. In the bow area however there was a continuous wooden

slatted bench seat mounted on each side wall curving towards the bow and culminating in a nice comfortable wedge

facing aft. He doesn't know exactly how many crossings of the Harbour he made that night, but at midnight on the

wrong side of the Harbour he was politely woken up by a crew member and asked to get off. No extra charge for the

multiple crossings.

After midnight the only method to cross the Harbour was by Walla Walla. A small, very small, boat with canvas

top, and about 4 inches of free board when loaded. Propelled by a small noisy outboard motor. The ebb and flow of

nautical traffic had lessened somewhat at this hour, but there was still significant movement. Sitting down at water

level in the darkness, as a huge cargo ship passes across the bows is unsettling, but the boat people having been born

to it, handle it with ease.

Hong Kong Hilton Hotel. Our accommodation in Hong Kong was in the new twenty-three floor Hilton hotel on Hong Kong (Victoria) Island, just back from the waterfront near the Star Ferry Terminal, and just across the road from the Royal Hong Kong Cricket Club and grounds. Further to the east on the hills at the back of the Wanchai area sprawled a very large Shanty Town quite clearly visible in 1967. Not a sign of the cricket ground or Shanty Town these days, all replaced with modern high-rise. The hotel was on the corner of Queens Road Central and Garden Road. In the photo the granite building at the right is the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank. (“The Honkers and Shankers Bank”: quote by “Spike” Jones). In the foreground is the beginning of the end for the Royal Hong Kong Cricket Club grounds.

On our journeys to Singapore from Sydney

we would land at Singapore's International Airport at Paya Lebar then be driven by taxi to the Singapura Hotel at the

top end of Orchard road. The Singapura at seven floors was then the tallest building on Orchard road. Notable for its

ancient plumbing with the shower head positioned over the bath. You had to be ever watchful and nimble as at any

time the water would alternate from clear to rusty brown. It became a form of sport ducking in and out of the

cascade at the first hint of brown.

The name Singapore is not a Malay word, but comes from two Sanskrit words (a classical language of India) ‘Singa’

‘Pura’ meaning ‘Lion’ ‘City’. The Malays called it ‘Tumasik’, Sea Town.

Around the corner in Tanglin Road was a bar which had a history of being frequented by aviation people over many

decades. New Zealand servicemen and personnel from other Air Forces used this watering hole in the 1950s and

probably earlier. The English lady in her 80's, who ran the place when we visited in 1968 -1969, was the same

proprietoress in the 1950s when the R.N.Z.A.F. had a presence in Singapore. It was an old English style Inn with

dark oak beams and furniture. The floors boards were uneven and sagging, but the place had atmosphere. The bar

was a short walk from the Singapura Hotel, and in 1968-1969 when we had only a 14 or 15 hour stopover, it was

very convenient for us.

The walk from the Singapura hotel was alongside a very wide monsoon ditch which ran the length of Orchard road.

These ditches usually only had a trickle of water in them and were teeming with tadpoles. The morning newspaper

once reported a python snake had been pulled from the ditch the previous evening near the Tangle Inn, by delighted

locals who looked upon it as a delicacy.

In the next few years when Singapore entered its boom period, the monsoon ditches were covered over and are now

magnificent tiled pedestrian thoroughfares. The monsoon ditches today, remain out of sight. I have seen these

ditches as raging torrents, overflowing the edges, proving that they are quite necessary.

We started operating to Singapore at the beginning of the Lee Kuan Yew era, and the first impression of Singapore

was, if the humans left en-masse for three months, then the jungle would soon swallow the place up. All the

buildings were very old plastered brick of Colonial days, cracked and crumbling, with plant life growing out of the

cracks. Everything seemed to be covered in a green mossy film, produced by the constant high humidity. Lee Kuan

Yew got the place up and running and during our constant visits to Singapore in 1968-1969 we witnessed a building

boom and at one time I counted eighteen multi-storied hotels under construction at the same time in Orchard road

and Scott road. By the 1990s the tallest building was 74 floors, Raffles hotel had been completely gutted and rebuilt

inside, only the outside walls and facade remain of the original Raffles. CK Tang's on the corner of Orchard and

Scott roads, was pulled down and replaced with a new store and multi-storied hotel.

Lee Kuan Yew wasn't without his detractors when he first came to power, and a bit of civil disobedience was in

evidence, with explosive devices going off in the streets. Because of this, one of his decrees was to ban the use of

fireworks, unless it was officially sanctioned by the Government. Fireworks were a ready supply of gunpowder for

the bomb maker. Prior to the banning of fireworks I witnessed a religious festival (Most likely Chinese New Year) centred

around the use of fireworks. The annual festival involved the igniting of long ropes of red firecrackers that were

unfurled out the 2nd

floor windows of dwellings and set alight. These weren't any ordinary firecracker ropes. Each

rope was 12 to 15 feet long and had hundreds of half inch diameter by six inch long crackers woven into it. The

objective I believe was to create as much noise and smoke as possible to chase all evil demons away, to keep the

home safe and prosperous for at least a year. Each working member of the family was required to place an amount

of money in the cracker fund to pay for as many ropes as they could manage. I understand that one rope cost the

equivalent of one month’s pay for the average worker.

On this night we arrived in Paya Lebar just on dusk and were in the taxi heading for the Singapura hotel. Right on

six o'clock the mayhem commenced. The noise on this taxi ride into town had to be heard to be believed. There were

occasions when stopped at traffic lights, kids who were leaping around with glee, would slice a couple of feet off an

ignited rope and throw it under the cars stopped at the lights, and disappear into the smoke clouds whooping with

delight. One member of our Cabin Crew became so alarmed and distressed at this practice that an attempt was made

to bail out at the next set of lights, and she was prevented from doing so, by quickly locking the Cab's doors. The

next morning as we were departing the Singapura to return to Paya Lebar for our flight home, we were confronted

with 'snow' drifts, red paper snow drifts, two to three feet high at the foot of the buildings, all the way out to the

airport. Well Lee Kuan Yew put a stop to all of this activity, but in doing so must have saved each family a heap of

money.

The Hotel Singapura. Orchard Rd. The crew accommodation hotel. In the late 1960s it was the tallest building in Orchard road at seven floors.

A typical Singapore monsoon ditch circa 1960s. These were eventually covered over and became wide paved pedestrian walkways.

This photo was taken on 31st March 1968 by Gary Sommerville prior to a Sydney – Hong Kong flight. The aircraft is ZK-NZD, just two months old, parked at the old Sydney International Terminal on the eastern side of runway 34-16.

On the 6th

February 1970 the Sydney basing ended and we returned to Auckland.

All Sydney based Hong Kong and Singapore sectors including en-route fueling stops were single flight engineer

duties. Prior to the Sydney basing the company foresaw the possibility of occasions where the Sydney based flight

engineer might exceed flight and duty times. As the service was only twice weekly getting a back-up engineer to

Hong Kong at short notice was going to be problematic so the Company sought and was granted a dispensation to

extend the flight and duty time of the flight Engineer by ½ an hour (from 9 hours flight time to 9½ hours). NZ CAD

agreed provided no more than 10% of the flights exceeded the 9 hour limit. In reality more than 80% of the flights

exceeded this limit, and after the Sydney base came to an end two flight engineers were rostered on all Sydney-

Hong Kong flights. I guess the other consideration was crew rest. The DC-8-52 which Air New Zealand purchased

was the new ultra-long-range model and we were one of the first Companies to get them. The aircraft wasn't

designed for supplementary crew so there wasn't any crew-rest facility provided. We had two passenger seats

blocked off in the front of the cabin which were next to useless in regard to adequate resting, and in any case these

two seats were used by the resting pilot and the navigator when we were operating those parts of the journey in the

airways environment where the navigator was not required.

The crew accommodation hotel in this era was the

Hilton on Hong Kong Island. Up until 1972 Hong Kong

did not have the Cross-Harbour tunnels or the present

network of elevated roadways or the underground railway

that exists today so the mode of transport from the Hilton

Hotel on Hong Kong Island was by crew bus to a cross-

harbour vehicular ferry. Depending on vehicular traffic

density the chosen ferry departed either from the Star

Ferry terminal in Central District to Jordan Road on the

western side of Kowloon, or from North Point near

Wanchai to a terminal at Hung Hom on the eastern side of

Kowloon. Then followed a tortuous journey through the

narrow congested streets of Kowloon. Travelling time,

Hilton to airport at times took up to 2½ hours.

A typically narrow congested Kowloon street at night, the kind which the Crew Bus had to negotiate to and from the airport, before the elevated

roadway system was built, and the reason why the travelling time from the Hilton Hotel to the airport on Kowloon side was up to 2½ hours.

Add 2½ hours travelling time onto a normal duty time span and it adds up to a long night. The Duty time however

started officially one hour prior to the aircraft's scheduled departure time. Three pilot crew but only one flight

engineer. The FE was changed in BNE but remained on board as a passenger to SYD. We were young and made of

steel but non-the-less at times it was very taxing. Before expanding to the New Territories the tip of the Kowloon

peninsula up to Boundary Road, an area of 5 square miles accommodated 3 million people, the equivalent in the late

1960’s to the entire population of New Zealand which helps to explain the extended travel times to Kai Tak. To get

out in the streets during the day was a virtual shoulder to shoulder shuffle to get anywhere. Not improved by thirty

five degree temperatures and 95% humidity. Later the New Territories were developed and most of the population

was housed there and Kowloon’s population dropped to 800,000.

Kowloon in Cantonese is Kow Lung, meaning 'Nine Dragons'.

3rd

August 1972. Hong Kong - Manila - Overhead Brisbane - Sydney. ZK-NZG. Captain Alan Potts, F/O John Wall and F/O ? F/E Gary Sommerville. Flight TE222.

Flight time 11:03. On duty time 13:33.

Main undercarriage suspected not being fully locked down on approach at Brisbane.

ZK-NZG. One of the ex- United Airlines aeroplanes purchased a year ago.

This departure from Hong Kong was crewed in the normal fashion for this duty, i.e. Captain, two First Officers and

one Flight Engineer. The normal crew pattern was for the lone Flight Engineer to operate the sector Hong Kong-

Brisbane, with a Flight Engineer change-over in Brisbane. The Hong Kong-Brisbane Flight Engineer would remain

on board as a passenger for the Brisbane-Sydney sector and deplane in Sydney with the rest of the crew for a Sydney

overnight. The three pilots would operate both sectors, i.e. Hong Kong-Brisbane-Sydney. It was all a matter of

Flight and Duty Time limitations, which varied depending on the number of flight crew carried. With three pilots on

board and only two pilots required on the Flight Deck at any one time, a cyclic rest period was available for each

pilot. Without in-flight relief and rest the Flight Engineer would probably not have sufficient Flight Time left to

operate the second leg Brisbane-Sydney if there was an unscheduled refuelling stop at Manila. On most occasions

with everything running to schedule and with favourable winds the whole duty Hong Kong-Brisbane-Sydney, could

just be operated by a single Flight Engineer within the limitations. It would take only one hiccup in the Operation

however, to put the Flight Engineer outside the Limits, and have the aircraft and its passengers stranded in Brisbane

while the Flight Engineer took the mandatory twelve hours rest in a hotel. Very costly exercise for the Company,

having an aeroplane on the ground for twelve hours and all the passengers accommodated in hotels at the Company's

expense, so a decision was made to always have a replacement Flight Engineer waiting in Brisbane for each arrival

from Hong Kong.

On the night of our departure from Hong Kong, the winds were blowing from the west necessitating a reduced

weight take-off, and a climbing / turning flight path to avoid the high ground off the western end of the runway. The

method of weight reduction was to depart with a smaller fuel load, so a take-off in this direction always resulted in

an en-route refuelling stop at Manila in the Philippines, or Darwin in Australia if Manila was weather bound, as it

was occasionally in the Typhoon season. The flight time to Manila was 1 hour 30 minutes with a 1¼ hour transit

plus another 7 hours 15 minutes flying to Brisbane. The total flight time Hong Kong-Manila-Brisbane was going to

be 9 hours, just 30 minutes inside the 9½ hour (extended) Flight Time limitation, so it was going to be a long night.

The duty time was going to be 11½ hrs -- 30mins under the limit. Everything went without incident after departure

from Hong Kong. A routine transit stop at Manila and a nice smooth flight down to Brisbane.

I recall how lovely it was coming in towards Brisbane that morning. The sun was about to rise above the horizon far

out over the Tasman Sea. The cloudless sky had all the brilliant yellows, oranges, golds and reds of the emerging

sunrise. The sun’s rays had not reached the ground around Brisbane and the community was just beginning to rouse

itself in the half light of dawn. The flight conditions were absolutely smooth, and I was tired, very tired and was

looking forward to the comfort of the crew rest area, between Brisbane and Sydney. We started to run the Checks to

configure the aircraft for landing. The first stage of the wing flap extension was initiated and the appropriate radio

calls were being exchanged with Air Traffic Control, switches were being repositioned and all was performing as

expected.

Then the Captain's call came for “Landing Gear Down”. John Wall the First Officer reached forward and placed the

Landing Gear lever ‘Down’. There was the expected increase in air noise as the Gear Well doors opened and the legs

extended out into the slipstream. The expected '3 Greens' appeared to indicate the two mains and the nose landing

gears are down and locked, BUT in addition, the ‘Gear Unsafe’ red warning light was on and the ‘Gear Unsafe’

warning horn was wailing away continuously.

We had three indications that the Gears were down and locked and two insistent

indications that they are not.

The two main undercarriage legs have an independent mechanical peg which pops

up above the wing surface and protrudes about 1cm, if the gear is positively down

and locked. My job! Go into the passenger cabin, move passengers out of their

seats, so that I can look out the windows at the pegs. The peg for the right main

was visibly protruding. The peg for the left main gear was---- Well! Not really

fully up and not completely recessed either. Also covered in grease and

accumulated grime, so the indication was, Well! ---- Inconclusive. Back to the

flight deck I went to report to the Captain. My opinion was that the left Main Gear

was possibly was not fully down and locked. So we had three good indications

that the Gear was down and locked, and now three indications that it was not!

Clearance was obtained from Brisbane Control to over-fly the airfield and proceed

to a Holding Pattern over Morton Bay. Settled down out there the Captain

delegates the flying to John Wall the co-pilot, reminding him to devote his

attentions entirely to the task of maintaining a safe flight path, (minding the shop),

while the Captain and I devote our attention to the Gear problem and Checklist

procedure. Alan also briefs the Cabin Crew and advises the passengers of what the situation is and what we are

going to do about it. I get out the Emergency Checklist which covers Landing Gear problems. The third pilot seated

in the Observer's position, takes on an overall monitoring role, and attends to most of the radio traffic. The usual

preliminary checks of the Indication systems are made and then the Landing Gear is cycled up and down three

times, each time with the same inconclusive results.

Finally the Alan Potts said to me "What do you think Gary. Is the gear down and locked or not?" Well what could I

say? With 3 good indications and 3 bad indications. Short of tossing a coin, I had no comforting words for the

Captain. The situation is relayed to Brisbane Control with the request that the ground Rescue Services be alerted for

a possible Landing Gear collapse at touchdown. After a pause, Brisbane Control requests that we do a low slow fly-

past of the Control Tower, so that they might have a look at the Landing Gear through binoculars. In the meantime

the Cabin Crew are preparing the cabin and passengers for a Prepared Ground Emergency.

30 minutes ago I was very tired and looking forward to the crew rest area. Now I'm wide awake and fully alert as the

adrenaline kicks in. Fear? Well no not really. When you are totally involved in the situation and fully aware of the

progressing situation, and accept that the outcome rests squarely on your shoulders and those of your fellow crew

members, then fear does not have time to enter your thoughts.

The fly-past of the Control Tower did not produce anything positive except to say that the Gear looks like it might be

down and locked”. During the time we were flying from Morton Bay back to the airfield for the fly-past the ground

people looked at their abilities and facilities for handling a situation that may involve a high number of casualties. A

decision was made by them to send us on to Sydney, where it was deemed that the situation could better be handled.

A request was made for our compliance, and after a look at the 'Fuel Remaining' situation (we had spent 45 minutes out

over Morton Bay) we concurred. We had sufficient fuel for the 1hr 18 minute flight to Sydney, plus a little in reserve.

We retracted the Gear and cleaned up the flaps and climbed to cruising altitude as we set course for Sydney. Alan

had another chat with the passengers and made them fully aware of the situation and the Cabin Crew did a

magnificent job of preparing the passengers and Cabin for whatever might lie ahead, and even had time to provide

us with something to eat and drink, to keep our blood sugar levels up. Very wise move!!

It was a beautiful day, almost cloudless, smooth conditions and the aircraft was behaving quite normally in cruise. I

remember thinking "What a lovely day, but -----, what a lovely day but----," and couldn't quite imagine what the 'but'

was going to be. Finally we made our approach to Runway 16 at Sydney and as a precaution lowered the landing

gear early and got exactly the same indications as those in Brisbane. We cycled the Gear twice. At the request of

Sydney Control we did a low slow fly-past down the centre-line of runway 16, while they peered at us through

binoculars. As the nose was raised to climb to circuit height over the blue waters of Botany Bay I observed that all

four, 'Engine Fuel Booster Pump' amber 'Pressure Low' lights were starting to intermittently flicker on and off, as

the remaining fuel sloshed about in the tanks.

Alan turned to John Wall the co-pilot and said "I think we have done all that we can now John. Can you think of

anything else?" "No that's about it Al" he responded. Then Alan turned to me and said "How about you Gary. Can you

think of anything else we can do?" With some urgency I replied, "Land Al !! ---- I think we should land!! We are

getting low on Gas!!", and I indicated with a sweep of my hand, the array of blinking amber lights on my fuel panel.

I think at that point Al muttered "Oh Shit".

A circuit was made to align with runway 16 again, over the mid-morning swimmers on Bondi Beach, over Sydney

harbour with its busy water borne traffic filled with commuters, all blissfully unaware of our predicament. With

gentle sweeping movements to keep the remaining fuel in reach of the pumps, were turned over the Northern

suburbs of Sydney, lined up with the runway centreline, and completed all the Checks. The Cabin at this stage was

secured for a Ground Emergency and the passengers were briefed on the correct Brace position. All loose items

were securely stowed. Emergency exits and Escape Paths clearly indicated. The Fire Trucks and Emergency

Vehicles could be seen in their positions, ready to follow us down the runway. The straps on the seat that I had been

buckled into for eleven hours were drawn as tight as possible and the seat lowered to its lowest position, and I was

now swivelled around facing forward between the two pilots.

As the aircraft was about to flare for

landing John Wall, made the

prearranged Public Address call to the

Cabin 'BRACE-BRACE-BRACE".

Captain Al must have subconsciously

held the aircraft slightly right wing

down, and as the wheels brushed the

runway, and the Lift Spoilers were

commanded to extend, there was the

usual crunch and rattle as the aircraft

settled onto the concrete, and then for

a breath-taking instant -------- as the

Left Main Gear lowered onto the

ground, I felt the left wing dropping

and I thought, "It's gone!! The Left

Gear is collapsing!!!!" -------- and then another crunch and rattle, ----- and we were running straight down the

runway.

Part of the Ground Emergency Preparation was to secure the Flight Deck door open, and above the noise of the

engines being put into reverse thrust, there erupted from the Cabin an enormous cheer and ovation from the much

relieved passengers. As we slowed to exit the runway, I turned and looked back in the Cabin, and there was one

bearded red headed fellow (drunk) who had unbuckled himself and was standing unsteadily in the aisle, hanging onto

the overhead luggage rack with one hand, and punching the air with the other, shouting " YOU BLOODY BEAUTY

KIWI !!!".

Flight and Duty time summary: 1:00 pre-flight checks in Hong Kong. 1:30 flight time to Manila. 1:15 turn-around

in Manila. 7:15 flight time Manila - Brisbane. 0:45 in Brisbane Holding Pattern. 1:18 flight time Brisbane-Sydney.

0:30 Post Flight duty at Sydney. Total Flight time 11:03. Total duty time 13.33. Most of it at night, having had

perhaps the usual one hour sleep in a noisy Hong Kong hotel room the afternoon of departure plus two hours travel

time to get to Kai Tak.

Later in the hotel (Macleay St Travelodge Kings Cross) I was still wide awake as the crew gathered for a well-deserved

drink. One beer later I was dreadfully tired and went off to bed and slept like a log.

The DC-8 and the Boeing 707 were among the first generation of jet powered airliners and as such the design

philosophy was different from today's jets. Many occurrences like the one we had just experienced were bought

about by false warnings. This was simply caused by only having one warning system associated with a component

or the part of a System that it was monitoring. No back up. The design philosophy was changed as the Industry

progressed, and now most components have dual Monitoring / Warning systems, where both independent loops have

to detect the fault and agree that the fault is genuine, before the fault is announced. The systems have developed to a

point even further, where a failure of a Failure Detection system itself is also monitored, and corrective in-flight

action can be made to resolve that conflict, and still maintain reliable Failure and Warning protection.

One thing that Auckland Engineering always ensured after this incident, was that the last line of defence, the

mechanical pegs, were at all times thereafter keep clean and free from grease and dirt accumulation, and painted

with a clear contrast between wing-skin-surface and the peg.

ZK-NZG the aircraft in which I had the undercarriage problem described in the story above. Photographed just a few days later at Tullamarine Airport Melbourne August 1972.

Before leaving the DC-8 era and its pioneering flavour a few other things come to mind.

All the cockpit instrumentation of course had internal back lighting

to enable the gauges to be read when all around was darkness. The

early design philosophy was naturally based on each manufacturing

company’s previous experience which prior to the initial design

years of the DC-8 were the war years. So it evolved that in the

early years of the DC-8, instruments were provided by sub-

contractors containing either blue-violet or cherry red internal

lighting. Perfect if you are in a bomber over enemy territory and

you didn't want the glow of your instruments to give away your

position to the night fighter. Totally impractical for extended night

operations in a peacetime Jet with 4 times the number of gauges.

Eye strain was not uncommon. In line with that WW-2 design

philosophy each cockpit station was fitted with a Map Light

intended to flood the area you worked in with just sufficient light in

which to read a manual or checklist or attend to the mass of

paperwork required during the passage of the flight. Presumably to

ensure you were not about to give your position away to that night

fighter the Map light was fitted with a red bulb which while it gave

you a wide area of flooded light it was still fairly dim.

This leads me to the day the Company got its new Performance Engineering manager. He was responsible for the

production of all the graphs and charts and work proformas we used on the Flight Deck. Obviously a highly skilled

competent person who was very good at what he did otherwise he would not have got the job. Like all 'new brooms'

though changes had to be made and the necessity to make that good first impression on the new masters became a

priority. So new paperwork was devised for our use. I know the situation has vastly improved over the years but at

this time it became apparent there was no liaison between the designer of these products and the end user and no

consideration was given to the environment in which they were intended to be used.

A case in point. The Flight Engineer on every flight recorded every aspect of each engine's and each System's

operation at hourly intervals to aid the ground engineers to plot trends in the machines performance. “---when the

weight of the paper equals the weight of the aircraft then you are clear to proceed”. This task is of course completely

computerised today and is downloaded automatically to ground stations during flight or at destination. The 'new

broom' set about redesigning this proforma at his perfectly stabilised desk, sitting in a chair unencumbered by full

shoulder, lap and crotch harness, under ideal daylight lighting conditions, at sea level pressure, between the hours of

nine and five, after a good night's rest in the home bed, after a fine breakfast ensuring his blood sugar levels were at

their peak, and his concentration on this task was not interrupted by the requirement to attend to other tasks at the

same time. In time the proforma grew in size because his desk was large and spacious. The need to extract even

more data from the cockpit instruments became desirable and the number of little boxes to be filled in became more

numerous and of necessity the boxes became smaller along with the type-written instructions. With the proforma's

content completed artistic flair exerted itself and the white proforma became a yellow proforma. That was nice but

what goes well with yellow? Red!! So all the lines that formed the little boxes were printed in red and all the typed

instructions were printed in Bold red. A masterpiece of performance engineering, professional precision, and artistic

flair.

When the proforma arrived on the Flight Deck, to start with it was too large to fit on to the flight engineer's work-

table so became a gymnastic feat to get that part of the form you were intent on filling out, with a bit of hard surface

under it. The increased amount of data required to be gathered took the engineer's attention away from the rest of the

aircraft's systems which were still whistling through the atmosphere at 600 mph. The nice neat little boxes with their

tiny neat instructions which were easy to see on 'new broom's' perfectly still desk became difficult to see in light

turbulence even in full daylight in the early stages of the flight. That was before fatigue and the effects of altitude

and dry moisture-less conditioned air took its toll on the mucus membranes, notably around the eyes. All these

problems however went completely away at night when the red Map Light was turned on. All the little red boxes

with their nice little red instructions completely disappeared under the red light and we were left with an absolutely

clear blank abnormally large sheet of yellow paper which had actually turned a lovely delicate pastel shade of

orange when mixed with the red rays. Over time Air New Zealand gradually replaced the gauge instrumentation

lighting to white bulbs as the instruments entered the workshop for routine maintenance and very quickly changed

the Map light bulbs to white, oh and the proforma went back to the drawing board. 'New Broom' got the message

and a long and happy working relationship developed between his land based office and our office in the sky.

Nandi's Sky Lodge Hotel. Fiji.

During the construction of Nandi Airport's new runway in the 1950-60's, the construction workers were housed in

accommodation blocks near the airport. When the airport work was finally completed these buildings became

surplus to requirements so two of the more enterprising construction workers, seeing the potential in increased

tourism about to be generated by the new airport facilities bought the buildings and became hotel owners. These

buildings were converted into what became the Sky lodge Hotel Nadi.

It was the Sky lodge that negotiated the TEAL aircrew accommodation contract and it was in this primitive but

comfortable place that many a T.E.A.L. - Air New Zealand crew spent an enjoyable 4 day stopover. One of the

landscape features in the grounds was a small wooden sailing dinghy with a little history involving a T.E.A.L.

Electra crew of the early 1960's, before I joined the Company. One of the two entrepreneurial hotel owners Paddy

Doyle (yes a real Irishman) owner of the boat, invited the Captain, Ian Gemmell I think, and the young single Flight

Engineer, Derek Stubbs out for a day’s sailing and a little underwater spear fishing. They were accompanied by two

or maybe three Pan American Stewardesses.

The day apparently was progressing well off the western coast of Viti Levu in amongst the islands of the Yasawa

Group and everyone was enjoying themselves until..........the boat sprung a leak and settled as wooden boats do, just

below the surface. No life jackets, radio or emergency beacons of course and no one else in sight and the nearest

land is some way off. In addition one of the girls could not swim. She was placed in the submerged hull head above

water, and the others arranged themselves around the outside of the vessel contemplating their fate. The afternoon

dragged on and no rescuers in sight. Dusk arrived and as it does in the tropics, night fell with dramatic suddenness.

The water was warm and the sharks weren't hungry or perhaps they preferred not to come in amongst the rigging

lying in the water. Dawn arrives and it is evident that the offshore currents are taking them further offshore. After

some hours a decision was made to swim for it as a group, towards a small island in the distance. The fearful and

somewhat reluctant non-swimmer was encouraged to clutch to her bosom an empty gallon tin with the lid tightly

screwed shut. She was put in middle of the group and shepherded along. Perhaps halfway to the island the sharks

appeared and began circling.

Derek Stubbs related this tale to me several years ago and said, “Unfortunately Paddy Doyle clutching his spear gun

let loose at one of the sharks. Fortunately he was a bad shot and scored a near miss, close enough to frighten the shark

off, with the others following it. Had he drawn blood the outcome would have been quite different”. Eventually the group

made it to the small uninhabited island and stumbled ashore. By this time of course thirst was becoming a problem

and nothing was available on shore to alleviate this problem. The group set about making an S.O.S or similar marker

on the sand and awaited developments. The following morning when their spirits and health were ebbing, a

searching aircraft spotted them and seaborne help arrived in the afternoon. A three day ordeal. There were of course

complications for the Company with 2 of the 4 cockpit crew members posted as missing for a considerable time.

DC-8 Flight Control incidents.

A couple of flight control incidents occurred during the DC-8 era which are worthy of note. There are two cockpit

Control Columns installed, one for the Captain and one for the Co-pilot. On top of the Control Column is the Yoke

or steering wheel. Combined operation of the yoke and column moves the hydraulically operated flying control

surfaces, the ailerons, elevators and rudder to cause the aircraft to climb, descent and turn. As both Control Columns

move the same cable-pulley-hydraulic valve combination, both Column-Yokes move in unison depending on which

pilot is doing the flying. To achieve this both Control Columns are joined together below the cockpit floor by an

interconnecting tubular device with a clutch arrangement to allow one Column to operate independently of the other

should one become jammed or some other fault occur.

The first incident occurred on approach into Auckland and if memory serves me correctly the Captain was Robin

McGrath. Robin was 'poling' the aircraft when suddenly the Column broke off at floor level and he was literally left

'holding the baby'. Because of the dual system, and because of well-trained crew co-operation, the co-pilot was

instantly able to assume control and the approach and landing continued without further problem. The follow up

investigation was obviously intensive and the appropriate action taken, the details of which escape me now.

The second control incident involved the rudder of ZK-NZA which was reported as being stiff or at times locked

solid during Approach and Landing. (In cruise under Auto-pilot control the rudder is not used. Banked turns are made by co-

ordinated Aileron and elevator only. The rudder is made operable near the ground when flap is out, to improve directional

control during landing and take-off). This problem was intermittent. Try as they might the Ground Engineers could not

replicate the problem on the ground and all tests proved the rudder system to work perfectly.

ZK-NZA, AKL-SYD 4th

December 1967. Captain Mick Taylor. F/E Gary Sommerville. The rudder was as solid as a

rock on approach so aligning with the runway was achieved only by using Aileron and rolling the aircraft slightly

and by judicious use of the engines to apply more thrust on one side or the other to swing the aircraft's nose. A 30

hour delay was incurred with nothing found. As sometimes happens with these mysterious infuriating and frustrating

problems, the answer was stumbled upon after several weeks. The Rudder Control Package containing the hydraulic

actuators, valves, manual reversion gear and other mechanical devices is housed in the tail area aft of the pressure

bulkhead and subject to ambient pressures and temperatures. In other words it's not in the heated pressurised area of

the aircraft where the people are. The Package is situated under the huge rudder which is attached by its hinges to

the Vertical Stabiliser (the Fin). Part of the Package was an open topped Spring Cartridge which in essence is a large

coil spring in a tube mounted vertically with the open end at the top. This spring is attached to the mechanical

linkages to provide backup pressures during certain actions performed by the Package. Directly above the open end

of the cartridge was a collector pan with a drain pipe leading overboard. The function of the collector pan and

overboard drain pipe was to collect the moisture that ran down the leading edge of the fin when flying in rain or

cloud and pipe it overboard rather than letting it flow into the aircraft's interior.

The cause of the stiff rudder problem: The overboard drain pipe had a small crack in it allowing some of the

collected water to drip directly into the spring cartridge tube which it slowly filled or partially filled. Being exposed

to the low temperatures of high altitude the water froze to solid ice and effectively jammed up the system. When on

the ground the ice melted and with it went the evidence and the problem. The fact that the problem was intermittent

was dependent upon whether the aircraft encountered rain or flew in cloud during the sector. I believe it was during

inspection of the spring cartridge that some sharp eyed mechanic spotted water contaminated grease in the cartridge,

which drew his eyes upwards where he noticed faint water staining around the crack in the pipe.

Ocean Station November

warrants a mention before leaving the DC-8 era. We flew vast distances across the Pacific Ocean from our small

islands in the South Pacific and should we have a problem warranting a stop en-route there was always a Pacific

Island somewhere within reach. Even if no runway was available in extreme emergency there would be a lump of

terra firma in the ocean we could ditch beside and transfer to while awaiting rescue. The exception was the leg

Honolulu to Los Angeles and return. A distance of 2,200 miles with no land at all in between. In the very early days

of commercial aviation in the piston engine era this piece of ocean took up to 14 hours to cross. Any technical

problems or weather related problems sometimes ended in disaster. In an endeavour to alleviate some of the

associated difficulties the US Coast Guard assigned one of their Cutters to take up station at the mid-point between

Hawaii and Mainland America. This Station, one of the many Coast Guard ocean stations coded alphabetically

starting with Alpha was given the code name November. Ocean Station November was located on an invisible grid

on the Pacific Ocean a thousand miles from the nearest land and would drift back and forth across this grid for one

to three months at a time. It carried weather scientists who took many kinds of weather readings. They would send

up instruments in weather balloons that measured atmospheric conditions and they measured the ocean temperature

and currents. This information was then used to predict storms and weather patterns. Their work is now

accomplished by satellites and weather buoys. All transoceanic flights had Ocean Station November’s radio

frequencies in case they had an in-flight emergency over the water requiring them to ditch but that had not happened

since the fifties. Ocean Station November ceased operations on 30th

June 1974.

The gallant men who manned Ocean Station November, a ship going nowhere for months on end understandably got

bored and craved a little contact with the outside world when they could find it. Occasionally we would call up

November as we flew nearby giving our call sign (the aircraft’s country of origin and registration letters) and weather

related information delivered in the accepted radio telephony phraseology and this was usually followed by some

light-hearted and amusing conversations. One occasion I can recall after striking up a conversation with the

radioman on duty he asked if any one up there was having a birthday today. “No one today” was the reply. Then

followed a chorus of ragged song delivered by what must have been a small group of sailors crammed in a small

steel enclosure with that characteristic hollow echoing sound. “Happy birthday to no one. Happy birthday to no one.

Happy birthday to no-one. Happy birthday to Who”, then over the radio came spontaneous hoots of laughter and

derision with clattering and clanging sounds as they fell about the steel deck. One other notable occasion and these

were the days before women pilots arrived in commercial jet cockpits, we got one of our hostesses, you know the

one with the sultry voice, to come up to the cockpit and call up November. After a bit of coaching and then reading

from a prepared script she delivered the standard radio message giving our Lat/long position, weather, wind and

temperature information but starting with “Hello boys – this is New Zealand November Zulu Charlie -----------”. I think

within seconds the whole ships company was jammed in the radio room clamouring for a word and offers of all sorts

of unimaginable delights were still issuing as we faded out of radio range.

In 1973 I did another 4 month posting in Los Angeles

to operate the LAX-HNL and LAX-PPT sectors. A number of crew members lived with their families in an

apartment block in Ravenspur Drive on the Palos Verdes peninsula a few miles south of LAX. With this number of

personnel living in close proximity, it was most probable when a flight arrived in LAX from either Honolulu or

Tahiti, one or more of the crew was a Ravenspur resident. It was also equally possible that a member or members of

the outbound crew was a Ravenspur resident, and as we all had the on-going crewing rosters we knew who was

coming and going, and on which flights. Therefore a workable transport pool was arranged. Crew members leaving

Ravenspur would leave their car in the Los Angeles Airport car park and leave the keys and parking space number

in the Flight Despatch Office in the Terminal Building for the inbound crew member or members to collect and

drive back to the apartments. There were other crew members living in other parts of Los Angeles so the system did

not always pan out this way but on most occasions it did.

On one notable occasion First Officer Doug Dallison

and I arrived in from Tahiti and collected Cyril Parker's big grey Pontiac and set off for Palos Verdes with Doug

driving. Doug only observed two speeds when he drove, Fast and Faster. His driving was always erratic at best. We

were hooting down Hawthorne Boulevard and Doug in his commanding booming voice was delivering a prolonged

dissertation on some subject, when I noticed the traffic lights some distance ahead had changed to red. Doug of

course would have noticed this and in typical fashion (as an ex fighter pilot, and a good one too), would carry on the

charge until the whites of the eyes were visible then apply full braking coming to a halt precisely at the stop line. As

the red lights loomed larger and larger with the speed remaining constant and the patter continuing to roll off Doug's

lips, I found I was beginning to become tense and started pushing myself back into the seat. Then it became apparent

to me that in spite all Doug's in-built skills and lightning reflexes we probably weren't going to stop in time, so I

blurted out "RED LIGHT". Well like I said -- brilliantly honed ex-fighter pilot reactions. On went the brakes instantly

-- Full braking. We went through the intersection completing a full 360° turn, pulled a few 'G's, made a lot of

squealing noises, created a bit of smoke, missed all the other road users, slowed momentarily then regained speed

and carried on. I realised then I had missed half of one of Doug's sentences which I asked him to repeat. This he did

without hesitation.

I first encountered Doug in the late 1950's when I was an airman at Ohakea and he was a Squadron Leader flying

Vampire fighters. On one occasion he was with Dick Currin doing Touch and Go landings in a T-11 Vampire when

one or the other pulled the undercarriage up at the first bounce. The aeroplane wasn't quite ready to fly at that point

and settled back on the runway, wheels up. A lot of squealing, a bit of smoke, and came to a stop. Like me, Dick

may have asked Dougal to repeat the last sentence

because the conversation was loud, long and expletive

laden I believe. At some time in his Air Force career

during a spell with the RAF in the Middle East he taught

a young King Hussein of Jordan how to fly. At the time

of this Los Angeles basing he had not long before

completed his 20 plus year Air force career and joined

Air New Zealand as a First Officer. He later became a

Captain and when he retired learnt to fly helicopters, then

returned to the Middle East to fly Choppers. After flying

he retired to a farm north of Auckland. This is the actual aircraft photographed just after the Dick and Dougal show at Ohakea late 1950s.

31

st January 1973. Honolulu - Auckland. Captain Ron McKenzie. F/E Gary Sommerville. ZK-NZF. Flight TE555. Flight time 8:40.

Heavy Icing encounter near Samoa.

In the dark early hours of this day we were cruising at 37,000 feet and passing through the Inter-Tropical

Convergence Zone (ITCZ) in the vicinity of Samoa. Usually the passage through this area of dense cloud build up

results in icing of the airframe and engine inlets to some minor degree. Icing encounters are usually dealt with

without any problems by use of the Anti-Icing systems and on rare occasions the De-Icing systems built into the

aeroplane.

The De-Icing system on the DC-8 enabled hot air from the compressor section of each engine to be ducted along the

inside of the leading edges of the wings and the leading edges of the tail plane and fin. In addition using a separately

controlled system hot air could be continually ducted when required around the rim of each engine intake and the

Engine Pressure Ratio (EPR) probe in the engine intake to Anti-Ice these areas.

It has been well established that crystallised ice (microscopic crystals) adheres only to those portions of the airframe

that meet the airflow head on, (the impact areas) the leading edges of the wings, tail plane, fin, and engines as well as

radio aerials, drain masts, probes etc. Aerials, probes and masts are continuously heated electrically during all stages

of flight. It takes a large quantity of hot air to de-ice the airframe's leading edge surfaces and this air supply is drawn

from the compressor section of each of the four engines. Note: Pressurisation and air-conditioning was achieved by using a limited amount of engine provided pneumatic air to run four Cabin Turbo Compressors mounted behind scoops in the aircraft’s nose. These small pneumatically powered compressors operated at 35,000 r.p.m. drawing in outside air. To de-ice all affected airframe areas simultaneously would take too much air away from the DC-8’s Pratt and

Whitney JT3D-3B 18,000 lb. thrust engines, causing an unacceptable drop in the thrust delivered by each engine,

thereby creating undesirable performance degradation in other areas of operation.

To overcome this Douglas designed the airframe de-icing system in sections, controlled by a Cyclic Timer. Two

timers were installed. Only one was used with the other on standby should a timer fail in heavy icing conditions.

Flight Engineers station with the wing and empennage de-icing controls highlighted in panel centre (see inset also). The large circular items are the cyclic timer controls with a toggle switch between them to select timer 1 or timer 2.

The timers controlled a small regulated amount of hot air from each engine and applied it to two airframe sections at

a time, one on each side of the aircraft (to keep the state of contamination or cleanliness balanced across the ship). First the

wings ran through a complete cycle of their various sections followed by the empennage. One complete cycle of the

2 wings and the tail area took several minutes. Note the system is a De-icer as opposed to an Anti-icer. The engine

cowl lips the aerials and probes are anti-iced, i.e. their whole surface is heated continuously to prevent ice adhering.

The wing / tail plane system, allows ice to build up on the leading edges to a manageable level, then heat is applied.

This cracks off the ice which fly's away in the slipstream. It can be seen then why the engine inlets are continually

anti-iced preventing ice build-up rather than chunks being periodically cracked off and sent through the engines.

The compelling reason for De-icing the wing / tail plane leading edges is because the shape of these surfaces are

critical to flight, and these shapes must be maintained. The super-cooled small crystallised ice particles adhere to the

areas they impact, those areas being the ones facing directly into the airflow and will not attach to cold horizontal

surfaces they pass over at speed. If the leading edges were to be continually heated, that is Anti-iced, airflow in

contact with the heated skin would absorb heat, re-liquefy the ice crystals which would then flow off the leading

edge and over the wing / tail plane surface. As the warmed water droplets depart the heated area and suddenly

encounter the sub-zero temperature skin surface aft of the leading edge the droplets will immediately re-freeze

forming a sheet of clear ice which adheres to the surface, a phenomenon called Run Back and Re-freeze. This slowly

forms a ridge of ice on the area of highest contour over the full length of the wing or tail plane disrupting the smooth

airflow over the surfaces and starts to destroy the lift forces. Additionally the ice ridge deflects the airflow away

from the flying control surfaces at the back of the wing/tail making the aircraft difficult to control. It is obviously

totally impracticable to heat the entire wing.

The phenomenon Run Back and Re-Freeze was not known, or at least not discussed by Air New Zealand in these

early days of Jet experience, or indeed later because of the rarity of the occurrence in our Operation, as I was to

discover to my horror in later years when the 747 came into service.

The usual early indication of ice building up on the DC-8 was

when it appeared on the exterior metal structure surrounding the

windscreen, easily seen in daylight but no so at night even with

the aid of a torch. The windscreen panes are continually heated

mainly to prevent fogging on the inner surfaces but has the

added benefit of preventing ice adhesion on the outer surface.

On the rare occasion when icing was severe anti-ice heating of

an aerial on the fuselage top surface aft of the cockpit (photo left)

could not cope and an eerie moan would develop as ice built up

on the front of the aerial around which the airflow became disturbed. My first experience of this and my first use of

the DC-8 Airframe De-Icing System occurred when climbing out of Sydney one afternoon with senior Captain Ron

Puttick in charge. We were in thick cloud which was so brilliantly bright white it was difficult to see. Any white ice

on the windscreen surrounds would have been invisible. There was a little turbulence associated with it.

Surreptitiously at first an unidentified moaning started behind and above me slowly increasing in intensity and I

could feel the hairs on the back of my neck starting to rise. Ron Puttick with previous low level, 'always in the

weather', Flying Boat and DC-6 experience said, "Sounds like we are picking up ice on the aerials Gary. Turn on the

Airframe De-Icer would you please". I was to remember that sound for the rest of my tenure on the DC-8 fleet.

To return to the main story. We were negotiating the ITCZ at night and as Procedure dictated at the first cloud

penetration the Engine Anti-Ice System was turned on as a precaution. When it's dark or in heavy cloud during

daylight hours, an actual ice encounter cannot be seen on the wings or on the windscreen structure. When I heard the

'eerie moan' start I drew it to the attention of the Captain who asked for the Airframe De-Icing System to be used. I

reiterate at this point that use of the Airframe De-Icing System on the DC-8 was a rare requirement. This was only

the 2nd

time I had ever been called upon to use it. I think in seven years on the DC-8 I only used the System three

times. Most icing encounters on the DC-8 only required the precautionary use of the Engine Anti-Ice System. I

commenced using the Airframe Anti-Ice System and monitored it as it cycled through the various sections.

Monitoring was necessary to ensure that each section valve opened at the right time and closed at the right time,

ensuring each section was in fact de-iced. A valve hang-up in the closed position could mean a section of one wing

was incurring an unacceptable ice accumulation while the same section on the opposite wing was clean and ice free.

Uneven forces acting on the aircraft upset the

balance and equilibrium of the aeroplane. Conversely

a valve remaining open would mean that the air-

supply destined for just one section, would now be

shared by two, resulting in diminished effectiveness

and possible ice build-up on both sections. An

aircraft that is not balanced and clean (streamlined)

uses more fuel to push it through the air. It was quite

a complicated and work intensive system and one of

major importance in a bad icing encounter such as

we were experiencing on this flight. The complexity

of the DC-8 system and the high monitoring work-

load was due to the relatively small thrust engines

compared to later larger more powerful engines

which delivered plenty of thrust and hot air to enable

the whole anti-icing / de-icing system to operate at once. Just turn it on, leave it on, and watch it occasionally.

However this night it all worked as per the Manufactures Specification and all was well with the airframe structure.

My problem on this flight was developing elsewhere. Some preamble. Control of engine oil temperature on each

engine was accomplished by passing the hot engine oil through an air-cooled heat exchanger mounted at the bottom

of the engine's nose cowling. There was a 'Chin Scoop' built into this area divided into two sections, one for the

engine oil heat exchanger, and the other to supply cooling air to other components in the engine under-cowl area. Oil

temperature was controlled by increasing or decreasing the airflow over the heat exchanger by positioning a flap in

the exiting air stream. The flaps were electrically controlled by switches at the Flight Engineers station. When the oil

cooler flaps maintained a set position with the engines maintaining a constant thrust level, oil temperature would rise

or fall as the ambient outside air temperature rose or fell. So when the aircraft entered cloud and as the outside air

temperature dropped the Flight Engineer would instinctively expect the engine oil cooler flaps would need tweaking

toward closed, to maintain the oil temperatures in the 'Green' range on the gauges. On this night as we entered cloud

the ambient and the oil temperatures dropped and I tweaked the oil cooler flaps a smidgen towards closed. A little

later the 'eerie moaning' started and I got involved with the operation of the Airframe De-Icing System. As I

mentioned earlier this was a work intensive system to operate, but good airmanship and practice dictated the rest of

the ship must be continually monitored also, though not quite as regularly as normal. After a while I became aware

that all four engine oil temperatures were slowly rising. "Over did the Oil Cooler Flap closure tweaking" I thought,

and tweaked them back towards open. I continued with the Airframe De-Icing schedule then noticed a further rise in

all engine oil temperatures. This was contrary to normal behaviour which called for the Cooler Flaps to be

progressively closed as the in-cloud ambient temperature decreased (as displayed on the Outside Air Temperature gauge).

More tweaking towards Open followed. Then it happened again-----and again, continuing until finally the oil cooler

flaps were fully open. No further temperature control was available. Long before the fully open stops were reached I

had drawn the other two crew member's attention to the developing situation. Because it was happening to all four

engines it eliminated any thought that it was a false indication, or a faulty Oil Cooler or Oil Cooler Flap.

Some common circumstance was affecting all four Engines. How long would the engines operate or what damage

could be done if the engine oil became excessively overheated? Our immediate concern was to somehow lower the

oil temperature. Retarding the throttles of two symmetrical engines at a time was initiated, causing the aircraft to

slow somewhat but the temperatures slowly started to stabilise and then drop. The process was repeated with the

other two engines and then alternately repeated. Of course when the two retarded throttles were advanced again the

oil temperatures slowly rose once more. This crude method of control was maintained for the 45 minutes or so we

were in these icing conditions.

Prior to exiting the cloud we had analysed the situation and agreed with my theory that ice had built up in the Chin

Scoops and was progressively choking off the air flow over the Oil Cooler Heat Exchangers. The Chin Scoop was

positioned below the Engine Nose Cowl Anti-Icing 'D' duct and was not designed to be heated. What we were

experiencing was obviously not supposed to happen! and had evidently not happened or been reported as having

happened, by an any other DC-8 Operator up until now otherwise it would have been ‘in the book’. An alternative

strategy was to descend to a much lower altitude where the outside air temperature was higher in an attempt to rid

ourselves of the ice, if indeed that was our problem – at this stage it was only an assumption, a theory. We were

basically caught between the rock and the hard place. On the one hand we needed to heat the area to rid ourselves of

the ice, but this would also increase the engine oil temperatures into the Danger Range. At that stage we were too

heavy to climb into cooler air to lower the engine oil temperature and were we able to do so, the colder ambient air

was not going to rid us of the ice. We decided against descending in the immediate term as it would have

compromised our fuel situation as flight at a much reduced altitude for the extended period it was going to take to

have any appreciable effect, would have meant a much higher fuel usage rate coupled with the fact that our most

immediate need was to cool the engine oil. Being dark of course we were unable to visually check the Chin Scoops

for ice accumulation and in any case the ice may have been impacted further inside the Scoop and out of sight.

Finally we broke out into the clear and by this time the aircraft was light enough to climb and cruise at our next

scheduled Flight Level of 39,000 feet. By doing this slowly and gently we were now cruising at an altitude where

the outside air temperature was a few degrees cooler, and as a bonus the engines weren't required to work as hard in

the slightly more rarefied atmosphere of the higher altitude, and this proved enough to maintain the oil temperatures

at the high end of the 'Green' range, without the need to juggle the throttles. The remainder of the flight, another

three hours, was conducted in daylight in clear smooth conditions and during that time the oil temperatures barely

moved and it wasn't until we commenced our descent into Auckland, with the throttles retarded to idle (imparting less

heat to the oil), and the outside air temperature increasing as we got closer to Mother Earth (initiating ice melt) that the

oil temperatures started to stabilise.

When we finally parked at the Gate at Auckland International Airport the Ground Engineer plugged his head set in

at the Nose Wheel station and enquired of me "Any defects?" My reply was "Would you have a look in the Chin

Scoops and see if anything is lodged in there please?" He sounded mystified as he affirmed my request then returned a

minute later sounding incredulous when he said “Gee! There’s great blocks of ice in there!!” I then went on to explain

our reasons for asking him to check the Chin Scoops, followed by a report in the Maintenance Log. Ron McKenzie

followed this up with a written report in the Captain's Log which was submitted to Flight Operations. They in turn

would have communicated this information to the Douglas Aircraft Company and the Pratt and Whitney Engine

people for follow-up action and an advisory to All Operators.

This was the first of three most unusual and very alarming icing incidents in the ITCZ which I experienced in my

career, all at 37,000 ft. The second on a DC-10 when ice impacted in the Air Conditioning Pack ram air scoops

choking off the supply of cooling air to all Pack heat exchangers almost causing the loss of all three packs in the

middle of the Pacific, in the heart of the ITCZ. The ram air scoops were not anti-iced because the designers were

confident ice could not access the area. By far the most worrying ITCZ icing experience was on a new Boeing 747-

200 with defective radar systems which did not give any weather returns at all, resulting in severe ice build-up on

the aircraft, blocking T.A.T. probes and other sensors which provided erroneous temperature and pressure

information to Central Air Data Computers resulting in very unreliable speed indications, Auto-Pilot, Auto-Throttles

and a host of other essential parameters. Such was the ice build-up on the airframe after a while we could not

maintain speed with Maximum Continuous Thrust on all four engines and were compelled to descend into warmer

air. Plus a lightning strike on descent into destination for good measure, with clear radar scopes. Beware the ITCZ.

I was intrigued to read many years later in Aviation Week and Space Technology magazine dated September 13th

2004 an article dealing with the new weather radar systems being developed for the 21st century’s airliners. Quote:

“In the process of developing and testing the new WXR-2100, Rockwell Collins engineers found significant

differences in weather in various regions of the world. To the naked eye, a thunderstorm in the U.S. Midwest might

look the same as one brewing in the South Pacific, but the two storms are likely to have a completely different

makeup in terms of radar reflectivity. For example, storm cells over the ocean have extremely low reflectivity, unlike

the Midwestern ones. Engineers discovered that oceanic weather is, on average, 200 times less reflective than

storms of similar height over land masses”

The DC-8 era taught me, keeping ahead of your aircraft operationally was paramount. With no en-route stopping

shoulders or roadside rescue crews you were very isolated. Just keeping up with the aircraft was not acceptable in

the event of an unexpected occurrence. Getting behind the aircraft could then mean you may not catch up in time

resulting in undesirable consequences. Keeping ahead meant planning and preparing for every upcoming operational

requirement, and making preparations for contingencies ahead of time such as weather related anti-ice/de-ice

procedures, diversion to Alternate etc.

25th

September 1973. Christchurch-Sydney-Christchurch. Captain Geoff Highet. ZK-NZA. Flight time CHC–SYD 3:15. SYD-CHC 3:12.

3 engine Tasman Crossing.

At this point in my career I had been appointed as a Training Engineer on the DC-8 fleet. On this day we had

departed Christchurch to operate a 'double-banger' Christchurch-Sydney-Sydney-Christchurch. The weather

Christchurch to Sydney was fine and clear and forecast to be the same for our return journey. On this flight I had a

new Flight Engineer converting onto the DC-8, undergoing the Route Flying part of his Conversion Course. Flight

Engineer Trevor Baker was a highly experienced ex-Royal Australian Air Force (R.A.A.F.) Flight Engineer who had

finished his 24 year career in the Air Force on the Lockheed C-130 Hercules four engine Turboprop. This was his

first venture into Civil Aviation and his first experience with pure jet operation.

The Captain, G.R.B. Highet, was a World War Two fighter pilot with the R.N.Z.A.F. in the Pacific. Geoff was

credited with shooting down 4½ Japanese Zekes (A variant of the famous Zero), three of those kills being on the same

day 24th

December 1943 at Rabaul in the Solomon Islands. (A ½ refers to the opponent being shot down by two attackers).

My first encounter with Geoff occurred in my first year in aviation as a 16 year old 1953 R.N.Z.A.F. Boy Entrant.

Flight Lieutenant Geoff Highet was the Air force's top jet jockey stationed at Ohakea and on this occasion

accompanied Wing Commander Stratton, the Commanding Officer of Ohakea when they arrived at Woodbourne in

a dual seat Vampire Trainer on 21st April 1953. The purpose of their visit was to give the Boys an evening lecture on

the activities of the Ohakea station. We as young lads were in awe of this decorated war hero, more so the following

morning when he performed a thrilling display of aerobatics over the School.

In his Air New Zealand years Geoff earned the nickname of 'JetSpeed' when with favourable westerly winds he

broke the Trans-Tasman crossing time in a Company DC-8 in a time of just under two hours. Our arrival in Sydney

was just after sunset and after a normal transit we departed at 7 p.m. (9 p.m. New Zealand time). We had been advised

that due to Industrial Action by Air Traffic Controllers, Brisbane Airport would be shut down after 9 p.m.

The take-off and initial climb out was routine and all systems were operating normally and Trevor was performing

his duties to his and my satisfaction. At this stage I was sitting in the First Observer seat on the left hand side of the

cockpit just behind the Captain. From this position I could monitor the Flight Engineer's panel on the right side wall

of the cockpit, and also the forward instrument panels of both pilots and the Centre Instrument panel between the

two pilots Instrument Flying panels. The Centre Instrument panel contains the major instrumentation for the four

engines, and can readily be monitored by all three operating crew members.

The bank of instruments right in the centre, 4 dials across Flight engineer’s station. and 4 dials down are the engine main instruments.

The cockpit Overhead area contains Radio

switch panels, some Systems controls, Circuit

Breakers, and just in front of the Flight

Engineer's position above his head, are the

four 'Engine Emergency Shutdown' handles

and 'Fire Bottle Discharge' buttons and lights.

Mounted in each handle are red fire warning

lights. The light in the handle of the engine

with the fire illuminates to indicate the correct

handle to pull to shut the appropriate engine

down. Pulling the handle shuts down the

engine and arms the fire bottle discharge

buttons.

Cockpit overhead panel. The engine emergency shutdown handles are at the top of the 4 vertical slots behind clear Perspex hinged covers. The red stripes are the fire lights. During emergency engine shutdown the handle is pulled down to the bottom of the slot. Cable systems operate valves and switches to shut the engine down and arm the fire bottle discharge button.

Suddenly a fire warning occurred and just as quickly stopped. A momentary shrill from the Fire Warning Bell

accompanied by a quick flash of red from the 'Master Warning' lights mounted on the Glare Shield in front of each

pilot ----- and then nothing. We all knew it was an engine fire warning ------ but which one!!!

A 'Master Warning System' red light in front of each pilot will come 'On' flashing, when an event of significance

occurs in any of the aircraft's systems. This is an 'attention getter' and the precise location of the problem will be

announced somewhere else in the cockpit by other bright warning lights. For an engine fire the Master Warning

indication is accompanied by a continuous warning bell which leaves no doubt in the minds of the crew this warning

is an engine fire warning!!. plus the red lights illuminated in the appropriate handle to indicate which engine has the

fire. Only an engine fire will produce a warning bell in conjunction with a Master Warning red light.

This loud urgent warning was so short lived no time was given to look up to see which Engine Fire Handle was

illuminated. "Which engine?" said ‘JetSpeed’? "Don't know" chorused the rest of us at the same time scanning the

rest of the Engine Instrumentation for any sign of trouble. Nothing!! Brrrinnngggg ----- Brrrriiiinnng again, with a

wink from the Master Warning lights and a quick flash from the Overhead Panel area’ then nothing again. "Number

Two!!!" exclaimed Trevor. "Confirmed. Number Two" from me, having just caught the wink of red light in the

Number Two handle. “Is the bugger on fire or not?" asked 'JetSpeed in a calm authoritative voice. "No indication of a

fire that I can see Captain" returned Trevor. "Gary! It's probably just a false warning but to be sure, go back and have a

look will you" requested JetSpeed. I quickly confirmed with Trevor that he could comply with the Engine Fire drill

should the fire indication return in my absence (as he was still under training) to which he replied in the affirmative.

With his previous experience I had no doubt that he could.

I made my way back into the passenger cabin getting a few quizzical looks from the passengers seated in the front

rows as I went to a point just forward of the left wing from where I could see the left inboard engine -- N°2. I

politely asked two elderly ladies to vacate their seats so I could get to the window. "Yes certainly dear" they replied

without asking why as they moved to stand in the aisle. It was dark outside but as we were still below 10,000 feet

the landing lights were still on as required by International regulation. In the reflected glow of the landing lights the

exhaust plume of N°2 engine appeared to be slightly smoky but that was not really significant as engines of that era

tended to be a little smoky anyhow. The important thing though was I could see no evidence of fire. "Everything

alright young man?" accompanied the nice big smile I received from the two old ladies. “Yes thank you. Thank you

very much for your co-operation" I said as I departed for the cockpit. "Well that's good" I thought as I reached the

cockpit door. "Geoff and the guys will be pleased to hear what I've got to report".

I opened the door, stepped inside and at that precise moment on came the fire warning!! Good and strong and it

stayed on. Number Two Engine Fire Warning. No doubt about it!!

"Fire Number Two" shouted Trevor. "Shut down Number Two and fight the fire" commanded JetSpeed. "Confirm

Number Two" said Trevor to the co-pilot. "Confirmed!!" replied the Co. Then followed the steps to identify and

confirm the correct throttle, fuel shut off lever, and fire handle, all actioned by Trevor and each step confirmed by

the co-pilot while Geoff concentrated on flying the aircraft and adjusting the trim as the engine spooled down. The

first of the two Fire Bottles was discharged into the engine and the fire warning ceased. The Checklist was called for

and all the Engine Fire procedural steps were confirmed as being completed, then the follow up items were

completed. "Right. Get on to Sydney and tell them our situation and get a clearance back to Mascot", JetSpeed requested

of the co-pilot.

In the meantime Trevor is attending to the 'Three Electrical Generators' operational procedure as Number Two

Engine Driven Generator stopped with the engine, and Fuel Balancing, as Number Two is no longer drawing fuel

from the left wing tanks. Sydney came straight back and said a fog bank had moved onto the airfield from Botany

Bay and was forecast to remain over the runway for several hours. "Right. Get me a clearance to Brisbane" said

JetSpeed. The co-pilot reminded Geoff that Brisbane would now be closed down due to the previously advised

Industrial action.

Sydney Control having anticipated this request then came through with a clearance direct to Melbourne but advised

us that Melbourne required up to1½ hours Holding Time due to thunderstorm activity. We of course had the fuel on

board but the option obviously did not appeal to JetSpeed. “In the time it takes to fly from Sydney to Melbourne and

then hang around there for the weather to clear we could be in Christchurch" said JetSpeed. "Just tell them we are

proceeding to Christchurch and get a lower level clearance (lower cruising altitude) will you please" said Geoff to the

co-pilot then added, "Do you guys agree with that. Do you see anything that I might have missed? We know the Trans-

Tasman weather is fine and our ground engineers are all geared up in Christchurch to inspect the engine. The passengers

will get to where they want to be and on time. What do you reckon?” he added canvassing opinion from his crew.

Under the unusual circumstances of not having a readily available Alternate Airfield on the Australian eastern

seaboard we all agreed this was the best Operational option available to us, so we proceeded to do just that. We flew

at 31,000 feet, two thousand feet lower than we would with four engines, burnt 1,000 lbs. of fuel above the Flight

Plan figure, a cost far lower than putting a plane load of passengers in a Melbourne hotel for the night, and arrived in

Christchurch three hours and twelve minutes later, just after midnight, 1½ minutes late. A three engine landing is

operationally little different to a four engine landing so when Christchurch Control asked if we wanted Emergency

Vehicles on Standby, JetSpeed informed them it would not be necessary. However they must have taken the

opportunity to use the situation as a practice scenario as on arrival we were greeted with a plethora of flashing lights

in the darkness from Fire Trucks and Ambulances. Traffic Officers had been positioned at each set of traffic lights

on Memorial Avenue and along the route to the hospital.

Nice to see the dedication of all these people, and the evidence that the system works. Not so the media who always

get the initial facts wrong and look to sensationalise any aviation incident. The next morning the Christchurch paper

carried a 'Shock-Horror' news item detailing how an Air New Zealand DC-8 jet liner was forced to shut down an

engine 150 miles off the New Zealand coast, (when in fact we were just off the Australian Coast when the shutdown

occurred) and as a result of struggling along on three engines for the remaining 150 miles, the aircraft arrived 1½

hours late. You could almost sense their

disappointment when they reported in the last

line " ----- although the aircraft landed safely".

The fire warning was of course a false

warning, caused by an intermittent short in

the fire detector wire. As mentioned

elsewhere false warnings were common in all

systems in these early era jets. The problem

was substantially reduced in the coming years

with the advent of dual detector systems and

progressive improvements in design. ZK-NZA the aircraft in the episode described here.

Pictured at Sydney early 1970s

Chicken and Chips with Pork Ribs for returns.

Flights to and from Samoa in this era were characterised occasionally by humorous events. The world was much

more relaxed and pleasant place to live in. The Colonel’s Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) had arrived in New

Zealand but not yet in the Pacific Islands. Every flight to Samoa was characterised by the super-large tubs of KFC

which were crammed in to every available space in the overhead luggage racks, and when they were filled to

capacity, then the containers were balanced on knees. The odours permeating the cabin whilst not unpleasant did

linger for some days after.

Another notable flight entailed me going to the rear cabin galley at the request of the senior cabin crew member to

investigate a sporadic high pitched squeal which he said was coming from galley equipment. Subsequent

investigation pinpointed the area to be near the last row of seats on the left side of the cabin. The sound appeared to

be coming from a large woven palm leaf basket clutched between the legs of an equally large but very cheerful

Samoan girl. The basket appeared to hold the extended family’s washing. When I enquired what was in the basket

she broke into a broad grin and said with enthusiasm “A pig!” “Would you show me please?” I requested, whereupon

a fat little struggling piglet was produced, with the announcement it was a gift for the New Zealand family members

she was visiting. I advised the young lady she would have to make piggy’s presence known to the authorities on

arrival in Auckland and with a cheerful chuckle and a thank you, piggy was stuffed back in the bag.

Circuit Flying

Without a flight simulator the flying portion of conversion courses and proficiency checks were done in the aircraft

on circuit training details. Circuit Flying was typically 4 hours of flying around Auckland Airport in the circuit

pattern. For example, a take-off would be made towards the west out over the Manukau Harbour, and at 3,000 ft. a

180° left hand turn would be made and we would fly east parallel to the runway over Papatoetoe / Manurewa and

out to the Whitford Beacon where another 180° turn would be made onto the Instrument Landing System for an

approach to the Airport. Several of these approaches would be made followed by some VOR approaches then NDB

approaches. Some landings would be Full Stop and others would be Touch and Go. After proficiency was gained in

these Normal approaches and landings, Engine Failures after take-off were introduced by the sudden retardation of

an engine power lever by the pilot instructor, and then the trainee would be required to control the swing of the

aircraft towards the dead engine and maintain a straight flight path. All done in concert with the rest of the crew

carrying out Emergency Procedure Drills, checklists and other adjustments to enable safe three engine flight. This of

course would then be followed by a three engine landing. As proficiency was achieved we went on to Missed

Approaches. This would involve an Instrument Approach with the flying pilot under the Hood to simulate bad

weather in-cloud then at 200 ft. initiate a Go-Around.

A somewhat thrilling part of the course was the Bad Weather Circuit training. This involved a low level circuit

aimed at maintaining visual contact with the airfield under bad weather low cloud base conditions and from memory

it was at something like 200 feet above the ground, close in to the airfield, necessitating tight turns close to the

runway threshold. A marker for making the turn-on from the Papatoetoe end was a small volcanic cone (which was

being quarried) called McLaughlin’s Mountain. We would sail around this little mountain in a steep bank and just

achieve wings level and aligned with the centre line of the runway when about two kilometres from the threshold.

We trained for this kind of eventuality but in reality it never was required during revenue flying.

Another curious procedure we were required to carry out was the Storm Window Landing. This procedure envisaged

the forward windscreens becoming opaque through hail action or cracking/crazing or being abraded by volcanic ash,

or whatever, resulting in drastically impaired forward vision. I can only imagine that somewhere in the DC-8's

history this had happened to someone, and therefore the Federal Aviation Administration had required this

procedure be developed by the Douglas Aircraft Company.

The procedure required the aircraft to be fully depressurised early in the approach phase,

then late in the approach the cockpit side window of the pilot flying was wound open, so his

head could be poked partially out into the slipstream in an effort to sight the runway prior to

landing. Nowadays of course, aircraft are capable of fully automatic landings in ground level

fog conditions and this kind of hi-jinks is no longer required. You can imagine the noise of

the airflow and the engines with a cockpit window open and the unnatural posture of the

pilot leaning to one side, eyes streaming and trying to sight the runway. Not the most

pleasant experience for the pilot, particularly if he was a toupee wearer!

The Flight Engineer was full-on during these Circuit Flying sessions (as indeed was everyone else), running all the

systems as normal, reading all the appropriate checklists - Before Take-off, After Take-Off, Before Landing, After

Landing, plus Abnormal/Emergency Checklists associated with simulated engine failures, and at all times ensuring

and sometimes insisting the pilots pay attention as distraction was common amongst new pilots learning to fly a new

type and all the while listening to good advice from the Training Captain. A constant and time consuming task was

trying to keep the fuel balanced as engines were retarded for simulated failures, first one side and then the other. The

fuel consumption rates of each engine would vary and Main tanks would have to be continually topped up or

reduced to keep the fuel weight evenly distributed between tanks, and to correct cross-ship imbalance. For the fuel

tank gauges to read accurately they needed time in stable level flight but they were hardly ever in that situation

during Circuit Flying. The fuel system of course had to configured ‘tank to engine’ on finals in preparation for either

a go-around or a touch and go. The pilots would be having enough difficulty flying a new aircraft without having to

contend with a machine that was out of balance. The engineer would also be required to log each landing made

during the detail to help the ground engineers with the monitoring of wheels, brakes and tyre wear. A typical four

hour detail would involve 12 to 20 landings.

Other four hour details may start off with some Upper Air Work for the first two hours. This would entail a normal

take off and climb from Auckland to attain an altitude of typically 12,000 feet, over the waters of the Firth of

Thames, or out over the Tasman Sea. Out here away from high terrain and other aircraft we would do stalls and

recoveries, Dutch Rolls, Tight Turns where the G Forces were such that you could hardly lift your arms, and your

cheeks felt like they were slipping down under your chin. It felt like your body was being compressed and at the end

of the day a clutch of rotund midgets would be seen wobbling down the stairs from the aircraft after the days flying.

An engine would be completely shut down in flight and three engine handling exercises would be carried out. The

wind-milling engine would be restarted in the air using just the force of the airflow through the engine for shaft

rotation before introducing fuel and spark to get it re-lit. We would do high speed runs up near the Sound Barrier so

that crews could recognise the onset of compressibility effects in the way of buffeting, and low speed runs with the

onset of low speed buffet as the precursor to stalling. After the Upper Air Work we would then return to the

Auckland Airport and do a further two hours of Circuit Flying. A four hour Circuit Detail was very intensive, with a

high workload and at the end of it you felt quite drained and knew that you had earned your money on that day.

Dutch Roll.

The Boeing-707 having 3° greater sweep-back on the main-planes in comparison to the DC-8 was more prone to

Dutch Roll and I understand Boeing operators had to be alert to this tendency during normal operations. On DC-8

training flights, to demonstrate Dutch Roll, the controls needed to be aggressively manipulated to force the aircraft

into Dutch Roll. Back in the aluminium tube was not a pleasant place for an Abinitio to be when Dutch Roll was

demonstrated. To convey the message to pilots of the dramatic effect on passengers should the aircraft be allowed to

enter Dutch Roll the PNF trainee pilot was placed in the last row of seats in the cabin to observe and hear the effects

of Dutch Rolling. From the vantage point at the rear viewing the full length of the aluminium tube, the effects of

side loads on the fin causing the fuselage to rack/twist from side to side with each roll cycle, accompanied by

disturbing creaking sounds from the structure, made an indelible impression on the observer.

Pitch Trim Compensator. (P.T.C.)

An innovation on the DC-8 was the electrically switched P.T.C. It was established that as the aircraft approached

high Mach numbers with the beginnings of shock wave formation, the centre-of-pressure atop the wing would move

aft causing the aircraft nose to ‘tuck under’. Pitch trim compensation was therefore designed into the aircraft using

the moveable stabiliser to compensate for the pitch change.

Jet Upset.

Another disturbing tendency of the new entrants into commercial jet transports was the previously unknown ‘Jet

Upset’ phenomenon. Again because of the greater wing sweep-back, the Boeing-707 was more prone to this

occurrence than the DC-8. I do not recall any incidents occurring with a DC-8. What did not help at the time was the

standard of weather radars fitted in this era.

A basic description of the process which develops very rapidly is as follows. Auto-pilot engaged in Altitude Hold. In

cloud peppered with thunderstorms. Weather radar not giving the full picture. Aircraft enters a strong up-draft near

or in a CB and departs assigned altitude. Auto-pilot attempts to maintain altitude by trimming moveable stabiliser to

nose-down. In the worst case the stabiliser trim reaches full nose-down. The aircraft now enters a strong down-draft

and being trimmed full nose-down, accelerates rapidly downhill. So fast is the acceleration that a shock-wave forms

quickly over the wing shifting the centre-of-pressure aft accentuating the nose-down attitude. Aerodynamic forces

on the stabiliser are now such that the stabiliser trim hydraulic motor stalls out and will not trim nose-up even

though the crew are desperately trying to do this. Airflow over the elevators is blanketed and renders them useless.

The next sequence in the emergency occurs usually around 19,000 ft. when the aircraft enters denser air, slowing the

aircraft, reducing aerodynamic forces and quite suddenly the stabiliser moves, elevators become effective and the

aircraft pitches up dramatically, exerting tremendous ‘G’ Forces resulting in most cases with one or two engines

peeling off the wing. The stresses on the rest of the structure usually rendered the airframe unusable again.

Part of the recovery problem was the inability of the Stabiliser Trim Motor to operate under high aerodynamic loads.

A more powerful Stab Trim motor was subsequently fitted and later aircraft designs fitted two motors either of

which was more than capable of handling the situation on its own. Crews of all aircraft types were made aware of

the onset of Jet-Upset and were trained accordingly. Of course much improved weather radars have contributed in

ensuring this kind of emergency is now in the history bin.

Emergency Descent.

A highlight that comes to mind during my DC-8 Instructor days were the occasional Handling Details we did with

First Officers under Command Training and soon to be promoted to Captains on the DC-8. These particular details

were only flown at the very end of their Command Training period and it was usually after this final detail that they

were approved as Captains. They were fairly rigorous flying details with the usual low cloud bad weather circuits,

the stalls, the high G turns, the touch and go landings, Dutch rolls etc. There was one extra thing which only

Captains u/t had to do and that was an Emergency Descent from altitude. This was to demonstrate that in the event

of a sudden loss of Cabin Pressure at high altitude that these guys could perform a rapid descent to 10,000 feet

within the FAA prescribed time of four minutes. We would climb the aircraft to 39,000 feet, and on the Pilot

Instructor's command, commence this high speed descent. The DC-8 had the ability to place the two inboard engines

(N°2 and N° 3) into idle reverse in flight. So that's what we did. Whacked the two inners into reverse, dropped the

nose down, and away we went. The buffeting produced by two engines in reverse caused the aircraft to shake

somewhat and the noise was quite high. The floor angle was quite steep and I had to brace a leg each side of the

centre control pedestal and lean back in my seat as I went about my duties. Four minutes doesn't sound long, but it is

when you are whizzing down towards the ocean in a noisy shaking aluminium tube. Why put the two engines into

reverse? It makes the aircraft take on the flying attributes of a stone. Completely under control but the horizontal

distance travelled is a lot less than that of a clean streamlined body slicing through the air at a shallower angle. With

the inners in reverse the aircraft would be at the same body angle but dropping at a steeper angle relative to the

earth's surface, and therefore the descent time would be quicker.

Two photographs from the DC-8

Era, contributed by Captain

Derek Stubbs and Flight Engineer Warwick Underwood.

Left to right: Navigator Kevin Kennedy - Captain Ross McWilliams - Flight Engineer Graeme Jacobsen - First Officer Dave Aarons.

DC-8 Cockpit: Flight Engineer Warwick Underwood at the Flight Engineer's panel.

Warwick and I both applied for a Flight Engineer’s position when

working on the hangar floor at Mechanics Bay. After the interview

process it was a matter of waiting.

Some weeks later I was told Sister Robertson the Company's

Industrial Nurse wanted to see me. I had absolutely no idea what

the Company nurse wanted me for. When I presented myself to her

medical section rooms there in the waiting room looking just as

mystified was Warwick. "What are you here for Warwick?” I

enquired. "Don't know, was just told to be here" he answered. Now we were both healthy specimens and weren't as far

as we knew, carrying any infectious diseases, or posing any health threat to our fellow workers. Our concerns were

further heightened when Sister Robertson appeared and handed Warwick and I appointment notices for a Heart

Specialist, an Eye Specialist, an Ear Nose and Throat Specialist and Fred Platts the Company Doctor. "But why do we

have to see these people?" we enquired. “There’s nothing wrong with us. There must be some mistake".

"Typical" she replied. “No one has told you have they? Well let me be the first to congratulate you. You have both been

selected to be Flight Engineers. Provided of course that you pass all these medicals".

When we started in flight operations in 1965 on the Electra fleet, expense allowances were not paid at stopovers. We

paid our own way and claimed ‘reasonable expenses’ at the end of the month. To cover out of pocket expenses,

upon finishing our type rating course, we were advanced the princely sum of 10 shillings, this amount to be repaid to

the Company upon ceasing employment with Flight Operations. We changed our own funds into the local currency

upon arrival at destination. Only two choices though in the Electra era, Australian or Fijian. When I retired in the

year 2000 I was not asked, and I did not remind them, that I was required to pay back the Company’s 10 shilling

advance i.e. $1 in decimal currency.

Epilogue: As I said in the beginning, these writings were intended for my children’s edification only and so experienced aviators might find the detail unnecessarily boring – or heaven forbid – inaccurate. I have made these offerings to the ON BLOX website to further the cause and offer a window into early commercial jet operations from the viewpoint of a now defunct breed (for better or worse - I think Worse) – The Flight Engineer, the only true interface between man and machine. We can all take comfort in the knowledge that we flew in the pioneering era when people flew aeroplanes, unlike today’s highly automated era where aeroplanes fly people. “What’s it doing now Arthur? I’m not really sure Martha?” Gary Sommerville

27th

June 2012