A Fishy Tail from Intra

It was April 1975 and I had just left the club and joined Intra, a change from instructing on the Cessna 150 to the DC-3, quite a change, but the 3 was quite an aircraft as I soon found out. It seemed huge to me, and those massive throttles and pitch levers. The smell was just intoxicating and the noise of squealing brakes on taxi, not to mention that cacophony of  P&W 1830 engine noise during start and take off, just sublime. 

This trip was my first on G-ALWC a DC-3 that Intra was leasing from Clyde Surveys and had only recently been ferried up from Tamanrasset to Jersey by the boss Bernard and Richard chief pilot. The aircraft was freight-only as she (funny how good aircraft are always referred to as she) had been used for freight and survey work by Clyde.

This trip was to ferry WC to Shannon pick up a load of freshwater eels, Elvers, apparently a delicacy in Holland, and deliver them to Amsterdam Schiphol. Take off Jersey late afternoon, overnight flight to Schiphol and then ferry WC back to Jersey.

The Capitan was a man once meet and flown with never to be forgotten, known by all F/Os as “Old Joe” No one really knew Joe’s age, his weathered face looked like he had flown a million miles, he probably had, Joe was a quiet, reserved man but his eyes revealed a huge aviation knowledge, he looked at you, listened, but you just knew Joe had seen and heard it all before.

Joe was Czechoslovak and had flown the DC-3 for Czech Air Lines, he escaped Czechoslovakia in 1938 just before the Third Reich invaded the country, they say he was the first pilot to hijack his own aircraft, that’s a story I must tell you someday.

See ‘A Hero Amongst Us Josef Řechka'.

He had a manner that instantly demanded respect with all, little was I to know how important this would be that night.

We arrived in Shannon at 1940 hrs, so my logbook reveals, and taxied to the freight ramp and left the loaders to it. After a short break whilst they loaded what looked like several thousand boxes into WC, so many in fact, that as usual, we had to climb up the ladder and enter via the forward hatch. We departed for Schiphol. We didn’t refuel that night as the 3 has a huge range, and the load of eels apart from being bulky, wasn’t that heavy, (well so they said).

The night’s weather looked like southeast winds aloft with a freezing level around 2000ft and cloud up to 10.000ft. As things turned out this forecast was to have a huge impact on the night’s events. We routed out over the southern Irish Sea towards the Brecon VOR initially maintaining 6000ft.

There is one thing pilots hate, it tends to creep up on you, and has a habit of spoiling your day, yes your right, and it’s Ice. That night it began as light then started to increase both of us noticed the speed dropping back, and Joe decided to descend, seemed a good idea to me particularly as by now both windscreens started to ice over. The deice boots on the wings at first kept the ice at bay by us waiting for a build-up then activating the boots which broke the ice off, however, this now became so frequent that it was having limited effect. Airspeed now became a problem as it was back to around 100kts so we kept descending over the sea to 2000ft. At last, we stabilised at 2000ft and 100kts, still, loads of ice but the boots were holding their own.

Joe was as ever very calm, not saying a lot but he knew exactly how to handle this, however, the realisation that another problem was looming soon became clear to us both, and it was fuel. At this low altitude, with higher headwinds, we would not make Schiphol with sufficient fuel remaining, we would have to divert to refuel.

One more little problem became evident in that both windshields remained obscured with ice. The 3 has an alcohol deice system to clear the screens of ice, its supplied by a tank behind the Captain and sprayed onto the two forward screens, we had been using this and at first, we thought it had failed, however, it soon became clear that it had run out of alcohol, this would make the landing a little tricky, to say the least, if the ice failed to clear. So we needed an airfield with a low minimum altitude from the approach to hopefully give the screens time to clear as the outside air temperature increased. Joe came up with a good solution RAF St Mawgan, open 24hrs and used in those days for Shackleton SAR operations, besides, it had a full GCA approach providing both radar guidance on your actual flight path and actual height above the runway. Joe was keen on this idea for a diversion airfield and I suspected he knew the airfield from old, most likely he had last been there in a spitfire during his time with the free Czech squadron of the RAF.

So off we went to St Mawgan, Joe flew the GCA perfectly, and it was a joy to see, always control movements only when needed no over controlling it seemed just effortless for him. The 3 was really heavy on the flight controls particularly ailerons, these needed both hands at times, but it was extremely stable, the perfect aircraft for a demanding night approach. During the approach the two front screens remained covered in ice giving us no forward vision, it was only about 200ft that a small clear area appeared on the captain’s forward window, and just enough for Joe to pin it on as the GCA controller said your wheels should be touching down now. Wow-what a flight and the most freighting part of the night was yet to come.

  

We followed the RAF lead in Jeep to the ramp and set the parking brake and shut down, a little surprised to see the number of military vehicles surrounding WC, 'a nice welcome Mike' Joe said, with a wry smile. I pulled out the ladder and we both climbed down from the forward hatch to be met by armed military police and bright lights, looking back at the aircraft we saw that the rear cargo door had already been opened. We were asked to follow the police into an adjacent building.

Joe was taken into one room and me into another, what was wrong, we only wanted fuel and maybe a cup of tea. After a few minutes wait all became clear as I was asked where were the papers for the importation of live eels into the UK, of course, we had none, but more worrying was, why the aircraft was full of boxes marked TNT high explosives!! It seemed that serious action was being considered, as we had turned up at an RAF airfield in WC unannounced from southern Ireland with boxes of high explosives on board. Why had I not seen the boxes, of course, it was Joe who had looked over the cargo in Shannon. So there I stayed for an hour or so on my own, getting ever more concerned.

Eventually, Joe came in with the base commander, looking like long last buddies, Joe smiling base commander smiling, tea arrived (why is it pilot’s need tea) Joe somehow had sorted it we were no longer invading the UK, fuel was on its way and a flight plan to Schiphol was being organised. It turned out that the shippers in Shannon had used old high explosive boxes to ship the eels (glad I was not eating them) Joe had seen them but of course, didn’t know we would end up at an RAF base, but best of all was that Joe had indeed flown from St Mawgan, in a Hurricane in transpired, but most fortunately for us he knew the base commander from 1940, good old Joe.

So for the second time that night, in the early hours, we set off again for Schiphol. That was uneventful other the Schiphol ground control asking why we left a trail of fishy-smelling water behind us as we taxied around the airfield, old WC always smelt of fish after that.

Joe sadly passed away several years ago, rest in peace “Old Joe” he is buried in the Czech pilots cemetery in Kent, with his Czech colleagues from the 1940s.

WC lives on!! Not in her pristine heyday as she looks a little tired now, and over the past years when working in Toulouse I often visit the museum she rests in at Blagnac, it brings back the memory’s and at times I’m sure I can still smell those eels.