The machines and their tenders
Though modern towers are equipped with electronic instruments of all kinds, when visibility permits, aerodrome controllers are still expected, to the extent possible, to keep an eye on their aircraft. On occasion this can save lives.
The little departing aircraft was dwarfed by the dimensions of the runway, built for the use of much bigger birds. As the plane climbed into the air, the controller saw a funny little cloud appear above and slightly behind the starboard wing. This was not completely unusual, when the humidity was high some aircraft, mostly the sleek winged jets, tended to trail streams of “clouds” from their wingtips as water vapor condensed in the low pressure funnel of the vortex. This time, however, the combination of a small, light aircraft and the looks of the cloud did not seem right. The controller advised the pilot of his visual observation, but he responded stating that all was well and they were continuing the climb. A few seconds later, however, he changed his opinion. He reported loosing fuel from his starboard wing-tank and requested clearance to turn back and land immediately.
Once back on the ground, it was discovered that the wing-tank refill cap had been improperly secured, it became loose and was lost soon after they were airborne. It was high octane aviation gasoline being sucked from the tank that had produced the cloud…
On another occasion, a jet of our local airline taxied out from its parking slot and as they were rolling happily below the tower, controllers noticed a dark, square shaped object atop one of the wings, near the fuselage. They asked the pilot to stop and a ramp crew, armed with a ladder, removed the toolbox accidentally left there that morning. One could only hope that the rest of the plane had been left in better shape by the maintenance people who left their tools behind. Incidentally, the toolbox was never claimed…
Leaving a toolbox on the wing of an aircraft supposedly ready for service is perhaps not very professional, but as we were to learn later, even stranger things could happen. It was again our friendly local airline and their twin engine jet that provided the lesson. They taxied onto the runway, we heard the increasing thunder of the engines and were almost ready to scribble down the departure time, when all of a sudden the engine noise died away, only to climb up once again. This happened a few times, clearly spelling trouble. Finally the pilot announced that their portside engine was not delivering power properly and that they wanted to come back to the ramp to investigate. Non too soon, either, as there was another plane, swiftly approaching to land on the same runway.
As they left the runway and taxied in slowly, we could hear them still tinkering with that engine. Once parked and the engines silent, but with the passengers still on board, the inspection hatches on the offending engine were opened, maintenance technicians swarming all over it.
Time was passing quickly, so we asked the airline dispatcher if he could give us a new ETD (estimated time of departure). They couldn’t, claiming that maintenance was unable to find what was wrong with the engine. This changed, however, when one of the engineers finally peered into the intake end of the offending engine. There, huddled on the bottom, was a thickly furred flight jacket, a standard issue to maintenance crews. From then on the picture became crystal clear in seconds.
This was an old type jet engine, with a stationary set of vanes in front of the first rotating parts, and all worked well while the engine had been running at low power, like when taxiing. Once power was increased for take-off, however, the suction of the engine was enough to pull the jacket over the stationary vanes, effectively cutting off the airflow. Of course the poor beast was unable to deliver take-off power. Like the toolbox, the jacket was never claimed by its owner.
Animals seen from the tower – cows and bulls
Do you know what the following road-sign means: upright triangle with red edges, in the middle a black cow, with drooping tail? No, you are wrong. It means: Beware! Low flying cows. Would you believe our nice little field had earned the right to use such signs all over the place? Well, this is how it happened.
It had been decided by whatever State bodies were dealing with such things that it was time to freshen up the bloodline of our traditional red/white cows and also to introduce the black/white variety. With color television the norm in most households, we considered this move to black and white cows a definite step backwards, but than aviation types never claimed to be particularly knowledgeable about cows…
As the new breeding stock was to be imported from the United States, it was decided that the best means of transportation would be by air. A Texas based company undertook to carry out the job, using their stretched DC-8’s.
Simple as the whole thing appeared at first, it was eventually discovered that quite a number of logistical problems had to be overcome before the arrival of the first flight of cows and bulls. As cargo DC-8’s were not regular visitors to our airport , a special unloading ramp had to constructed. This turned out to be a gadget not unlike the ones used by passengers to board planes docked away from the air bridges. The side rails were certainly about the same height…
ATC was also briefed about the operation and we were told that the animals would be carried in the DC-8 standing on their feet, with their main axis (sic!) perpendicular to the direction of flight. To protect the valuable cargo, pilots were going to do all maneuvering with extreme care. No sudden climbs and descents, no tight turns, mister. Air traffic controllers don’t usually like aircraft which use half the world to turn around, but for the sake of getting the new husbands of our cow population in safely, we took the restrictions in good spirit.
The first in the series of cow-flights was scheduled to arrive late one Saturday afternoon. Boy, was it a drag. He took forever to get down to the initial approach level and when asked to turn right, a friendly Texas voice politely enquired if it would be too much to ask to make the turn left instead? After a lot of coaxing, approach control somehow managed to line them up on the final track and to their credit, the cowboys landed the farm smooth as a baby’s bottom.
That long fuselage of the ‘8 blocked our cargo apron with her nose poking over the taxi path, and this meant a big detour for some of the other planes. Apron management was massed up quite a bit, but there was nothing could be done but wait until the cows and bulls were herded out.
The unloading operation went smoothly enough until a teenage bull decided that enough was enough and in one fluid motion jumped over the low side-planks of the ramp and trotted away into the darkness of the field. With the loading crew gaping in total astonishment, two more bulls followed suit. Only two, as the plane was finally empty now.
Air traffic control was requested to halt all operations, which we did, but not before doing some hard thinking as to what we should write into the message closing the aerodrome. In the end we decided to use the perennial term “due to technical reasons”. In the meantime, everybody able to move was called upon to search for the bulls. Have you ever searched for black bulls on a dark night? The result was predictably poor. One of the animals was eventually caught, another one was shot dead by a frightened security guard, while the third managed to break through the perimeter fence, only to be run down by a train on the nearby railway line.
This had certainly been an expensive lesson, with two animals lost and a three hour closure of the field… By the time the next planeload of hoofed passengers arrived, the loading ramp was beefed up, as it should have been the first time around.