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Lockheed L-188C Electra. Wingspan: 99 feet (30m). Length: 104 feet 6½ inches (32m). Height 32 feet (10m). Max All up Weight 116,000 lbs. (52,664 kgs). Wing Area 1300 sq. feet (120.8 m2) Fuel tank capacity 5,500 US gallons – 20,820 Ltr (37,500 lbs. - 17,010

kg.). Powered by 4 Allison 501D-13 prop-jets each delivering the equivalent of 3,750 Horse Power (7,500 lbs. thrust). Max range 2,500 miles (4023 km). Cockpit crew of four, (Captain – Co-pilot - Flight Engineer - Navigator) plus 4 Cabin Crew. 71 Passengers. Cruising speed 400 miles-per-hour (644 k.p.h.). T.E.A.L. took delivery of three aircraft in 1959 ZK-TEA, ZK-TEB, ZK-TEC. Cost in 1959 dollars - NZ$ 2million each. Two more Electras added to the fleet. ZK-CLX in 1965 and ZK-TED in 1970.

My Path to T.E.A.L. and the Lockheed L-188C Electra

began in 1953 when aged nearly sixteen I joined the R.N.Z.A.F. as a Boy Entrant in N°6 Draft at

R.N.Z.A.F. Station Woodbourne, Blenheim. My trade was Airframe and my tenure was for eight years.

From this point on, and reason I am starting my tale at this time in my aviation career, I began to encounter people who in the future would become colleagues and friends in T.E.A.L./Air New Zealand. Our paths would cross in these early years - diverge - and then meet again in T.E.A.L./Air New Zealand cockpits.

Gary Sommerville’s L-188C Electra Experience. January 1965-March 1967

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Noel Baker, Graeme Corkill, Warwick Knox, Tom Moody, Arthur Jones and Gerry Brown. It was in that first R.N.Z.A.F. year I encountered other young lads who would play a part in my

aviation future. In my intake were Noel ‘Grub’ Baker, Graeme ‘Killer’ Corkill, Warwick ‘Pop’ Knox,

and Tom Moody who would become R.N.Z.A.F. flight engineers and then a couple of decades later,

Air New Zealand flight engineer colleagues. Likewise just one year ahead of us in N°5 Boy Entrant

Draft were Arthur ‘Spike’ Jones and Gerry Brown who would become Air New Zealand Captains.

Greg Quinn, Peter Creedon, Gary Hogan, John Sager. My first contact with a future flight engineer colleague was

long before Air Force days however. In 1942 aged five, Gregg

Quinn and I were in the same class at Papakura Infant School. At Pukekohe High School a few short

years later Peter Creedon and I were in the same class and met again in Air New Zealand, though we

never flew in the same cockpits. Gary Hogan, a future N.A.C./ Air New Zealand Captain was a year

behind, and John Sager a future Air New Zealand Captain was around in the same era.

Perry Wilkins. 1954 was my second year in the Air Force (Trade Training year as an Airframe Mechanic) at Woodbourne, and

the first year for new Boy Entrant, Perry Wilkins who several years down the track, would become an

Air New Zealand Boeing – 747 Captain

1954 and a new dawn had arrived in New Zealand aviation; indeed it was a world first in aviation, top

dressing farm land with fertilizer from the air.

Aerial top dressing was in its infancy and had been started in the few years since the end of the war.

Starting out using ex-wartime aircraft such as the Tiger Moth, Hudson Bombers, and the Grumman

Avenger, TBF. New to the scene was an American designed purpose-built Aerial Crop Duster, the FU-

24 Fletcher. The sunny climate of Marlborough was chosen for the New Zealand testing of this

revolutionary aircraft, and taking advantage of the early morning still air conditions we were quite

often woken very early by the snarl of the Continental Flat Six engine roaring into life. Little did I

know then, this aircraft type would play an important role in my aviation career and be instrumental in

me securing a job with T.E.A.L. / Air New Zealand a few years down the track.

Robertson Air Service Ltd.’s experimental Fletcher FU-24 top-dressing aircraft at Woodbourne 1954.

Greg ‘n Gary aged 8, 1945 Std 2 Papakura Primary School.

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Tony Lynch. At the beginning of 1955 I was posted to Whenuapai on tarmac duties with N°41 Bristol Freighter

Squadron, and encountered young Pilot Officer Tony Lynch who I would meet again in 1965 on my

Lockheed L188-C Type Rating course.

Whenuapai. The day my big screwdriver needed its end dressed and squared provided one of life’s

small lessons. The grindstone to do the job was in the Welding Shop, an annex at the rear of the 41

Squadron maintenance hangar. I was about to enter the door to the Welding Shop when another airman

coming in the opposite direction in his grease spotted khaki overalls, quite rudely I thought, barged

through the opening and shouldered me out of the way, wringing his hands in frustration. I let the

moment pass and walked over to the workbench where the grindstone was mounted, with its twin stone

wheels still rotating merrily away. My attention was drawn to two small rather grubby rubber balls on

the workbench top, one slightly larger than the other. The bigger of the two appeared to have burst out

the side. With idle curiosity I picked up the larger and rotated it between my thumb and forefinger and

there before my amazed gaze was a human finger nail, chipped raggedly at the end and with a thin dark

crescent of grime under it. I was holding someone’s fingertip!

The words of last year’s Trade Training Instructor burst into my brain, “Always ensure lads, the

grindstone rest / guard is adjusted to the minimum gap, otherwise the work piece may be drawn into the gap,

flip over and take ya fingers off.”. Oh dear, queasy feeling -- maybe I’ll reshape my screwdriver

tomorrow. The ‘bargee’ returned later in the morning with one hand heavily bandaged and was seen

conducting a one handed rummage through the rubble on the top of Welding shop work bench, in the

vicinity of the grindstone.

One afternoon a United States Navy R4D-5L landed at

Whenuapai. The R4D was a modified Douglas Dakota

known as a Super DC-3. Slightly larger and with more

powerful engines. This was the first R4D I had seen.

The fin, rudder and wing tips caught my attention

because they were painted a bright iridescent Orange. A

newly developed paint named ‘Day-glow Orange’

which stood out magnificently against white

backgrounds. This newly developed paint was designed

for aircraft which flew in hazardous

snowbound regions ----- like the Arctic and Antarctic.

The aircraft taxied in, the motors shut down, and then the rear door opened. In the doorway stood a

diminutive figure, rigidly at attention, dark uniform with white hat adorned with gold braid, jacket

breast a riot of colour from many decoration ribbons, ever so slightly stooped giving the impression of

an older person. A smart salute to the small knot of R.N.Z.A.F. dignitaries at the bottom of the steps,

then Admiral Richard E Byrd descended the stairs to a warm welcome. Richard E Byrd was a man of

great note known for a number of pioneering aviation feats, including flying the Atlantic Ocean in 1927

just one month after Lindbergh’s epic first solo crossing of the Atlantic. Prior to this feat he and fellow

pilot, Floyd Bennett in 1926 made the first flight over the North Pole. On the 29th

November 1929 Byrd

became the first person to fly over the South Pole.

27 years after his first flight over the South Pole, I saw Admiral Byrd at Whenuapai on this day in

1956, when he was 67 years old, and a retired Admiral taking a last nostalgic visit to Antarctica. He

died the following year, March 12th

1957 aged 68. Features in Antarctica today bear his name.

I did not know then that 24 years later I would visit the frozen land myself in a DC-10.

Ace Edwards, Noel Petersen, John Milne, Maurice White, Len Hill, Murray Rutherford, John Peacock, Dave Mcpherson, Dave Roseingrave, Dennis Webb, Murray Pollard, Len Mills. August 1956 - May 1957: saw me returning to Woodbourne for an Airframe Fitter’s course and a brush

with the 1956 and 1957 Boy Entrant courses which included the shining faces of future T.E.A.L. / Air

New Zealand Flight Engineers Ace Edwards and Noel Petersen plus future Air New Zealand pilots,

John Milne, Maurice White and Len Hill. The 1957 Draft included future Flight Engineers, Murray

Rutherford, John Peacock and Dave Mcpherson. Dave would join me as an abinitio Flight Engineer

(and pilot Tony Lynch) in 1965 on the Electra Type Rating course. Other Boy Entrant future Flight

Engineers were Dave Roseingrave 1955, Dennis Webb and Murray Pollard 1958, and Len Mills 1959.

R4D Super Dakota

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Bill Wallace. May 1957 – February 1961 I was based at Ohakea. In 1958-1959, Bill Wallace as an 18 year old

Compulsory Military Trainee worked in the same small workshop with me at Ohakea for most of his

18 month CMT term before returning to his job with de Havilland Wellington. Bill and I were to meet

up again as Flight Engineers on the Electra fleet in 1965. Other future flight engineers, Alby Williams, Don Nicholson and Dick Masters put in an appearance during my Ohakea tenure.

Ron Spencer. The Ohakea Control tower was manned by civilian Air Traffic Controllers, given honorary Officer

rank, and one such fellow was Ron Spencer who joined Dave Mcpherson, and myself on the 1965

abinitio Flight Engineers Electra Type Rating course along with pilot Tony Lynch.

Roger Dalziell, Ross Johnson, Tony Lawson, John Gabriel, Errol Carr, Garth Owen, Barry Gordon, Dougal Dallison, Ian Hutchins, Tom Enright, Ken Sawyer, Rex Ford, John Buckmaster, Trevor Bland. At Ohakea I worked for and alongside many of the young pilots who were to become T.E.A.L. / Air

New Zealand colleagues a few years down the track.

An Air Force saying was, “If it didn’t move you painted it. If it moved you saluted it”.

Some future Air New Zealand pilots who exhibited movement were: In the Station rugby team, Roger Dalziell, Ross Johnson, and Tony Lawson. Junior Jet Jockeys, John

Gabriel, Errol Carr, Garth Owen, Barry Gordon, Dougal Dallison, Ian Hutchins and Tom Enright and

in the Transport Squadron Ken Sawyer and Rex Ford.

The Ohakea section in which I was employed (Metal Skin Repair Shop) designed and built the first smoke

system for the Vampire aerobatic team, (1958 R.N.Z.A.F.’s 21st Birthday Air Show) which included future Air

New Zealand pilots, John Buckmaster, team leader, and Trevor Bland in the N°4 box position.

1958. Original Smoke System test demonstration. John Buckmaster standing on the step of Vampire NZ5764.

Right: Ohakea 1958. Gary aged 21 standing beside U.S.A.F. C-84 Globemaster wheel. No I’m not a dwarf. It’s just a very big wheel.

1958 Vampire aerobatic team. Adam Anderson. John Buckmaster. Colin Rudd.

Trevor Bland.

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In January 1961 my Air Force career came to an end and I secured employment with Rural Aviation.

January 1961 - September 1961.

Rural Aviation. Bell Block Airport, New Plymouth. John Brough. Rural Aviation, a top dressing company which also had an importation licence for new Cessna aircraft.

The firm was owned by Miles King a World War Two Kittyhawk and Corsair pilot. I was employed in

the overhaul of Cessna top dressing aircraft, specialising in the complete dismantling of Cessna wings,

removing corrosion, repairing wing components, manufacturing new parts and all the wing skin panels,

and re-assembling the wings.

A few things stick in my mind about the short time I spent with Rural. One was the fact that I could

work alone, strip a pair of wings, clean, repair, and replace parts where necessary with new ones,

manufacture new wing skins and almost completely reassemble the wings single-handed. I would

require the help of an apprentice for just an hour or two to assist with riveting together parts of the

wing main spar. I managed to get the average overhaul time for a pair of wings down from 150 man-

hours to 80 man- hours using my own evolved time-management techniques. I was pretty pleased with

myself until the big boss, Miles King himself who I had never met before, paused in passing one day

and said "How long do you take to overhaul a set of wings boy?" Proudly --- “80 hours Mr King". "How

long do you think it takes to assemble a wing in the Cessna factory boy?" "Don't know Mr King". "Three

hours" he snorted as he walked off. "I bet the Cessna workmen didn't work alone, only worked with brand

new parts and didn't have to spend interminable periods of time waiting for the elderly and infuriatingly

slow Rural Aviation Storeman to condescend to supply parts and material” --- I muttered under my breath.

One of the very young pilots who test flew the new Cessna's assembled by Rural was John Brough.

Our paths crossed again many years later when we both crewed Air New Zealand aircraft together for

many years. When John retired he was a senior Boeing 747 Captain.

An embarrassing accident occurred one day in the Rural Aviation hangar. I was down on my hands and

knees on the hangar floor drilling small rivet holes in a wing skin when the drill bit broke, leaving

about half an inch of the drill shaft in the drill chuck, though at the time I was unaware of this fact.

Usually a drill bit will break off flush with the chuck. The drill chuck came down with some force on

the thumb of my left hand which I was using to steady the work. The pain was quite intense and when I

inspected the area there was a small spot of blood on the top of the thumb just behind the thumbnail (the

scar from which I still bear today). "A sticking plaster is what I need” I thought and headed off to see the young

female typist in the office where the first aid kit was kept. I voiced my request to which she replied

"Are you sure you're alright, you look a bit pale. Sit down on the chair there while I get you a plaster".

What happened next caused the young girl to flee the office in panic. I passed out, slipped off the chair,

had muscle spasms, started jerking around like a collapsed puppet with its strings being pulled

violently, and shock horror, wet my pants. Soon I was bundled into the Company van and taken into

the New Plymouth hospital where the thumb was X-rayed. Later when I was shown the X-ray picture,

there was a neat round hole clean through the bone and out the other side, but not breaking through the

underside skin. "Delayed shock induced by bone damage, can cause the kind of reaction you had” said the

Doc with a smile, well more like a smirk I imagined in my embarrassment. On my return to the scene,

after a change of overalls, I picked up my drill to continue work, and there in the flutes of the snapped

drill, were some nice little curls of bone, my bone. The young office girl was never really comfortable

in my presence after that.

Top dressing inaccessible farm land by air was a relatively new field of aviation, to some extent

unregulated, very competitive, and there were a lot of unfortunate accidents, many of them fatal. One

such accident involved a Cessna which had recently undergone a complete overhaul by Rural Aviation

and been fitted with rebuilt wings which I had done. The pilot was a cheerful young man who had

stopped to chat with me from time to time during the overhaul work. His fatal accident occurred about

two weeks after he took delivery of the aircraft, and one always initially thinks "Did I do something

wrong". Structural failure was not the cause however.

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Dakota ZK-BYF (c/n 20051 ex 43-15585 N65393) Built in 1943 and delivered on April 12th

1944, this aircraft

served with the US military before being sold to Trans Pacific Airlines in 1953, then Aloha Airlines in

November 1958. Brought to New Zealand on December 4th 1960 and registered on February 23

rd 1961

to Rural Aviation, the aircraft was converted for Ag-work in Hong Kong (to James Aviation plans) and

brought back to New Zealand on March 4th

1961.

There was an attempt in the industry to get bigger and better and Rural followed James Aviation in the

race to get a DC-3 modified to take a huge hopper mounted in the fuselage. I well remember the day

that Rural's DC-3 was readied for the first test flight with a full hopper. The hangar staff all turned out

to witness the event. Across the far side of the grassed airstrip sat the DC-3, engines growling during

the pre-flight run up and magneto checks. Finally the brakes were released and the aircraft starts to

move, slowly at first, then lumbering under the heavy load. The tail wheel lifts off the grass and the

aircraft gets ready to fly. Unknown and unseen, gremlins are at work, and a short circuit occurs in the

hopper's emergency dump system. Instantly the entire five ton load of super phosphate starts to dump

on the ground under the aircraft. With the engines operating at take-off power, the propellers whip up

the phosphate and the DC-3 completely disappears in a shimmering dust cloud that is now moving

across the field at eighty miles an hour. An emergency dump takes about 5 seconds, and as the

labouring beast is relieved of its burden it rises like the phoenix from the ashes and pops majestically

out of the dust cloud and dashes into the wide blue yonder, trailing a vapour like stream of remaining

phosphate. The mushroom cloud of advancing dust is heading in our direction so we dart for cover, as

the dirty powder-coated aeroplane seeks a clear space to land. The grass didn't re-grow in that area for

several months. Overdosed you might say.

Remember the way mothers used to prepare radishes for the summer lettuce salad? The long radishes,

not the ball shaped ones. The radish would be split lengthwise with a sharp knife into four fingers but

leaving the base intact. It would then be placed in a bowl of cold water and as you watched the long

thin fingers would arch out like the petals of a flower. A fascinating process for small eager eyes. I was

reminded of this one afternoon at Rural Aviation when the Taranaki rugby team was playing a mid-

week game for the ‘Log of Wood’ – The Ranfurly Shield. The game was being played out at full

volume over the wireless in the hangar and every dodge, weave, fend, scrum, sprint and dive was

eagerly devoured by the listening workers. None more so than the elderly retainer who was employed

as the general roustabout, driving the Company van (taking ‘bored’ employees to New Plymouth hospital for

example), running errands, sweeping the floor and generally tidying up. On this afternoon the old fellow

was operating the circular saw bench ripping up wooden Cessna packing crates to be used later as

firewood. The football match was reaching its riveting climax with Taranaki the home team just behind

on points, and then the local hero dived over the try line to win the match just as the final whistle blew.

So excited was the old grey headed gentleman he shouted out with glee “We winned – we winned!!!!” --

- and thrust his thumb through the spinning saw blade --- end on --- up the first joint --- and it spread

out just like a radish in a bowl of cold water --- same radishy red colour too.

After 8 months employment with Rural Aviation New Plymouth, a close relative of the family became

ill and it was necessary to move to Hamilton and seek employment there.

September 1961 - November 1962.

James Aviation. Hamilton. Jack Priest, Jack Humphries. James Aviation was founded by 'Ozzie' James some years earlier, and claims to be one of the first if not

the first Top Dressing company in the country and therefore in the world as aerial top dressing started

in New Zealand. He started out with a Tiger Moth aircraft.

When I arrived on the scene it was an all Fletcher FU-24 top dressing fleet. I was employed in the

construction of new aeroplanes made out of prefabricated parts from the Fletcher Aircraft Company of

America. During this time I sat and obtained my Civil Aircraft Maintenance licence. (L.A.M.E.)

I had been employed by James Aviation for about 6 months when union workers in the Fertiliser

manufacturing business went on strike for several months which bought the top dressing industry to a

complete halt. Work was found in the form of catch up maintenance on the fleet of FU-24s, and when

that ran out I was sent next door to Aero Engine Services, an allied Company which overhauled top

dressing aircraft engines. I had received no training at all on engines from the Air Force, but I could

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wield a spanner and was soon dismantling Continental Flat Sixes, for the experts to inspect, fix, and

reassemble. That lasted for a month or two then when the supply of engines ran out I returned to

'James' and was asked if I was any good with a paint brush. "Yes" I replied. "Well get up there and paint

the hangar roof" I was told. Took me two weeks on my own. A six inch brush and many pails of silver

paint. Lovely spot up there in the sun and it was memorable for two things.

The first was listening to a new-fangled marvel

housed in a paisley painted wooden box about the

size and shape of a shoebox, called a Transistor

Radio, which had quite recently replaced the

cabinet sized Bakelite wirelesses around the

country. Listening to my ‘tranny’ I was overawed

by the American boxer Sonny Liston, who took on

World Heavy Weight Champion Floyd Patterson,

(September 25th 1962) and knocked him out in the first

round after just 2 minutes and 6 seconds.

The invention of the transistor as we know was

revolutionary in that it was the beginning of

miniaturisation in the electronic world. A transistor is simply a switch capable of the On-Off function

but revolutionary for being so small and solid-state i.e. no moving parts. The first transistors, as in my

‘shoebox tranny’, each measured about a centimetre square and replaced the large fragile vacuum tubes

which took up three-quarters of the space in the old wirelesses. Now-days a silicon chip a bit smaller

than a centimetre square houses about five million transistors, each of which is capable of the On-Off

function up to three million times a second. But that was in the future.

I did not realise it then but the transistor was, through miniaturisation the beginning of computing, and eventually a base cause of the demise of Flight Engineers (and Navigators) from commercial aircraft cockpits, but in the meantime up on the hangar roof ---------

The second event involved members of the New Zealand Army S.A.S. (Special Air services Squadron). They

were being given parachute training at Rukahia, the Hamilton aerodrome where the James hangar was

situated. This had been going on during the time I was displaying my artistic talent on the roof with a

six inch brush. The jumps were made from an Aero Club single engine Cessna, and were getting

progressively lower as the training progressed. On the day in question I took a break to watch the

action, perched high up on my roof and watched this figure plummet out of the Cessna and come to the

end of the Static Line. The line was meant to pull the parachute out of the pack on the man's back.

Didn't happen! Man came to the end of the line, and remained there swinging back and forth like a

large pendulum. The immediate problem was the effect the swinging pendulum was having on the

Cessna's stability. The nose of the aircraft pitched up, and then pitched down. Up down, up down.

Very smartly a hairy arm appears out of the Cessna's interior and a sawing action is observed. The lad

on the line drops earthwards, and the aeroplane rears skyward. The luckless lad manages to get the

‘chute’ open in time before he belts into the pine trees beside the James bulk fertiliser bin, beside the

hangar I'm perched on. A few scratches and bruises, but he's okay.

A few days later when I climbed down after completing the paint job, I went to see the Chief Engineer

to ask what I should do next, he effectively said, "Take a week’s pay and go". The fertiliser strike was

still going on with no end in sight, and as I was the last one to be hired, I was the first one to be fired.

Barry O'Connor Three weeks before this occurred I obtained a couple of obscure licences. National Airways

Corporation had their terminal building on the opposite side of the airfield and the N.A.C. fleet of the

day were war surplus Douglas DC-3s. The resident Station Engineer was a young fellow name of Barry

O'Connor, and he was the sole N.A.C. licensed engineer on the Station. His problem was he never got a

weekend free. An approach was made to James Aviation to see if anybody would be willing to receive

the last DC-3 flight on a Saturday, tow it into the James hangar for overnight storage, tow it out again

the next morning, conduct a basic airframe check, start the engines and do a few basic engine run-up

checks prior to its next flight. An approach was made to me. I pointed out I had no training at all in

engines and the reply was, "Don't worry, Barry will teach you everything you need to know".

James Aviation hangar, Rukahia, Hamilton. The roof I painted by myself in 1962.

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Barry spent an hour each Saturday evening for three weeks in a row teaching me how to start DC-3

engines, ground run them, check magneto drops, oil pressures, quantities, temperatures, R.P.M. checks,

do propeller pitch changes etc. The basic airframe inspection was not a problem for me but pushing a

DC-3 backwards through a right angled turn, into the hangar was a challenge. The tractor was

connected by a tow bar to the steerable tail wheel at the rear of the aeroplane. All this was to be done

on my own in semi-darkness, with no one to check wing tip clearances as the aircraft passed through

the hangar opening.

Finally Barry checked me out, my N.A.C. license was issued and dated 17th

October 1962. Barry took

the next two weekends off -- I did the job, -- then got fired from James, and Barry returned to the status

quo of no weekends off.

So I have to this day a licence to run N.A.C. DC-3 engines and (this really amuses me), a licence to operate

N.A.C. tractors. A few years later Barry O’Connor joined T.E.A.L./Air New Zealand as a Flight

Engineer and we worked together for nearly three decades. He was born ten days before me and so we

retired at the same time. We shared the Flight Engineer duties on our retirement flight on 10th

January

1991, in a Boeing 747-200 ZK-NZX from Japan to New Zealand. My Papakura Infant School chum

Greg Quinn, as dead-heading crew also

retired on that flight.

James Aviation also operated a DC-3

top dressing aircraft and the two pilots

were Jack Priest and Jack Humphries,

both of whom later joined T.E.A.L. as

pilots

A James Aviation FU-24 The type I was constructing at Rukahia, Hamilton.

After I got the boot from James Aviation I went on a desperate search around the North Island looking

for employment. My search included Fieldair in Gisborne, a top dressing firm which operated

converted R.N.Z.A.F. Hudson bombers which had become surplus after the Second World War. The

closest I got to employment in those traumatic first few weeks was when they informed me a position

‘may’ become available 'later'. I also tried to become a plastics salesman but was discouraged by the

interviewer as not being “a salesman type of person”-- a knock back for which I am infinitely grateful!

World War 2 Hudson bomber of the type converted to

top dressing by Fieldair Ltd of Gisborne.

4th

December 1963 – 6th

September 1963.

Aircraft Services Ltd. Ardmore. John Eaton. Finally I arrived at Ardmore Aerodrome and Aircraft Services Ltd. I was interviewed by the Chief

Engineer Brian Loftus, and unluckily for Aircraft Services but lucky for me, they had just had a

Fletcher extensively damaged in an incident and needed someone with the skills I possessed to rebuild

it. So I had a job for the magnificent sum of sixteen pounds ($32) a week.

The following month another of Aircraft Services aircraft, a Fletcher had a mishap on a hill country

farm near Whangarei. The aircraft was operating off a typical New Zealand farm airstrip i.e. one which

was positioned on a hillside near the top of the high ground. The aircraft would land going uphill -- and

sometimes on quite steep slopes, to reduce the landing distance -- then be reloaded with fertiliser at the

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top. It would take-off downhill fully laden, using gravity assist to attain flying speed quickly and so

shorten the take-off distance.

The strip our aircraft was operating off had a cliff falling away about 1,000 feet to the valley below, at

the downhill end of the runway. So here was the aircraft fully laden, racing downhill, not quite at flying

speed, when one of the two propeller blades came clean off the propeller shaft and went sailing off in

the distance. The sudden imbalance of the rotating engine shaft caused the engine to rip clean out of the

engine bay and head off in the opposite direction to the one the propeller blade had taken -- in

accordance with one of Sir Isaac Newton’s Laws of Motion – ‘opposite and equal’ and all that. The

engine remained attached to the aircraft by some flexible oil and fuel hoses, flailing about a bit and

damaging the side of the fuselage. The pilot in the meantime made a heroic effort to save himself and

the aeroplane from plummeting off the edge into the abyss, by braking one wheel only and ground

looping the aircraft. It came to a halt, sliding sideways very close to the edge.

The problem for the Company was the airstrip was virtually inaccessible for a large wheeled

transporter necessary to bring the aircraft back to Ardmore for repair. A decision was made to fix the

aircraft on site. So it was that Brian Loftus and I set off for Whangarei one day and spent the next ten

days high up on a windy hill top, rebuilding the front of a Fletcher aeroplane. We had a mobile air

compressor on site to operate all our drills, riveters etc. and a tent to shelter in if it rained. Each

evening we would descend from our hillside and stay the night in an hotel in Whangarei, which was

owned by the one-time famous New Zealand wrestler, Lofty Blomfield. During our time up on the hill

the Waitangi Day celebrations were held (6th February, and if memory serves me correctly it was the first ever

Waitangi Day celebration) and I recall watching a flight of R.N.Z.A.F. Canberra bombers roar past off the

west coast, heading north, and almost at the same height we were. Repairs to the Fletcher were duly

completed and the aircraft was flown off the strip and returned to Ardmore with Brian and I trailing

behind by road.

Other highlights of my time with Aircraft Services: The Company operated a Seed Sowing Tiger

Moth, the pilot of which was a young Australian fellow who had an Afghan hound for a pet. An

Afghan is a very thin dog with long legs long tail long ears long body long hair and a very long tongue.

The dog went everywhere with him, including the toilet. The first time we met, I walked into the toilet

and saw at the urinal, a fellow urinator and beside him was very large dog with its front paws up on top

of the stainless steel, urinating, tongue hanging out the side of the mouth,

panting. The 'Tiger' had the seed hopper in the forward cockpit position and

the aircraft was controlled from the rear cockpit. When this pair set off from

Ardmore to go to a job, who could forget the sight of the Afghan standing in

the hopper, paws up on top and the long ears streaming back in the

slipstream and the long slobbering tongue flapping out the side of the mouth.

Another of our young rip-tear-or-bust Fletcher pilots John Eaton was later to become a very

experienced and respected Boeing 747 senior Captain, who I had the pleasure to fly with for many

years. Also employed at the Whangarei branch of James Aviation (Advance Aviation) was their chief

pilot Bob Shorthouse, brother of Jack who at the time was a T.E.A.L. Captain. On occasions Bob

would fly a Fletcher to Ardmore for some specialist servicing which our Company could supply.

Eight months after I commenced work at Aircraft Services Ltd, the Directors of James Aviation Ltd

made an out-of-the-blue offer to buy the Company. This was quickly accepted by the Aircraft Services

owners and a decision was made to close the place down. An offer was made to relocate staff to James

Aviation in Hamilton, which I had just recently left. The other choice was to go to James subsidiary,

Advance Aviation in Whangarei. Neither of those offers appealed to me, so once again I went job

hunting. My search finally took me to the door of T.E.A.L. at Mechanics Bay in Auckland. T.E.A.L.

Tasman Empire Airways Limited, the country’s International Airline which operated large turboprop

airliners, and seemingly out of my league -- but I was desperate for work.

In simple terms you might say I knocked on the door and was asked "What do you want lad". “A job

please sir". “What are your qualifications"? “A licence to build Fletcher Top Dressers sir". "Come in lad.

Just the person we are looking for. We've just signed a contract with Air Parts Ltd of Hamilton to assemble

six Fletcher Top Dressing Aircraft in our Light Aircraft Section here at Mechanics Bay".

So just like that on the 9

th Sept 1963 at age 26 my 38 year career in Air New Zealand commenced.

10

September 9th

1963 - January 11th

1965.

Tasman Empire Airways Limited. Mechanics Bay, Auckland. Peter Grundy, Pat McFarland. So here I was employed by Tasman Empire Airways Limited (T.E.A.L.) at Mechanic's Bay on

Auckland’s waterfront assembling Fletcher FU-24 Top Dressing aircraft in the old Solent Flying Boat

hangar where the Company now conducted major overhauls of R.N.Z.A.F. Sunderland Flying Boats.

The work was completely what I was used to and I quickly settled in. The major components were

constructed in a smaller Light Aircraft Section workshop beside the hangar, the fuselage, wings, tail-

plane, fin and rudder etc. The structures were then moved into the big hangar for assembly into a

complete aeroplane.

The aircraft were then loaded

on to a barge at Mechanic's Bay

and towed to the R.N.Z.A.F.’s

flying boat base at Hobsonville

where they were rolled on to

the hard standing using the

flying boat beaching ramp.

There they were test flown by

selected young T.E.A.L. pilots.

The post test-flight landings

were made at the adjacent

Whenuapai airfield where

T.E.A.L. had a maintenance

hangar and trained staff who

could make any necessary

adjustments. Two of the young

pilots I met at this stage, were

previously Air Force fighter

pilots, Peter Grundy and Pat McFarland. In the early 1950s Pat flew Vampires with 14 Squadron on the

island of Cyprus in the Mediterranean. Pete, Pat and I later became fellow Flight Crew members and

Instructors and have been friends for many years. The quality of T.E.A.L.’s workmanship was of such

high standard that Air Parts Hamilton awarded more contracts.

Alan Carbines, Dave Brown, Graeme Walsh, Peter Allen, Dennis Barker, Warwick Underwood. Others in the T.E.A.L. workforce were engineering apprentices, some of whom later became Flight

Engineers and who I worked alongside for many years. Alan Carbines in the drawing and design

office, Dave Brown light aircraft section, Graeme Walsh engine test cell, Peter Allen electrical section,

Dennis Barker hydraulic shop, and Warwick Underwood -- everywhere.

A new FU-24 Fletcher top-dresser in front of T.E.A.L.’s maintenance hangar, Whenuapai after transiting from R.N.Z.A.F. Hobsonville.

Fletcher topdressing aircraft assembly under the wing of an R.N.Z.A.F. Sunderland in the Mechanics Bay hangar. The aircraft in the foreground has just arrived from the Light Aircraft Section and the empty fuselage has just been lowered onto the wing centre section which is minus its canted outer wing panels, tail plane and engine. Note the recesses in the wing root leading edges where the fuel tanks will be fitted. The aircraft at the back has had its engine, tail-plane, and outer wing panels fitted. The fertiliser hopper is beside the tail-plane and awaits fitting into the large space behind the cockpit.

11

Aircoupe or Ercoupe

was a 2-seat aeroplane designed by Fred E.

Weick for ERCO(Engineering Research

Corporation). It was first manufactured in

1939. Production stopped during WWII, and

then in 1946, 4,309 were made in a single

year! They made them at a rate of more than

10 a day! They were immensely popular, but

in 1947 there was a major bust in the

aeroplane business, and ERCO stopped

making them. They were manufactured by

several different other companies over the years, Forney F-1, Alon A-2, and even Mooney as the M-10

in the late 60s. At the time it came out it was a revolutionary plane. It was the first General Aviation

aircraft with a tricycle gear. It was a metal mono-coupe low wing design that came out in a time of tube

and frame designs. It was stall proof, it was spin proof, and it was fast. Instead of the usual cable and

pulley system used to connect the control column and rudder pedals to the flying control surfaces, the

Aircoupe used solid push rods. The aircraft did not have rudder pedals because the rudder and aileron

control rods were integrated, so when the aileron steering wheel was moved left or right to initiate a

banked turn, rudder would also be applied. I guess what the Aircoupe was intended to be, was an

airborne car, to be steered like a car, using a steering wheel with no need to get the feet involved.

Maybe this is why the aircraft which showed up in T.E.A.L.’s Light Aircraft Section in 1964 was

owned by a well-known Auckland car dealer.

The aircraft required our attention because it had been run over by a Cessna at Ardmore aerodrome and

quite severely chopped up by the Cessna's propeller. Because the Aircoupe was a bit of an orphan in

New Zealand, spare parts were not readily available, and the supply of parts became a prolonged trickle

from Belgium which quite literally took well over a year. The result of this was everyone who passed

through the Light Aircraft Section during that period did a little work on it as each part became

available. It was still sitting there long after I left the Light Aircraft Section and moved on.

Sometime later I had joined the Engineering Inspection Division and was temporarily employed at

Whenuapai airport where the main T.E.A.L. overhaul hangar for the Lockheed Electra fleet was

situated. In due course the Aircoupe was completed and barged up to Hobsonville then trucked to

Whenuapai to be test flown. To get the aeroplane on the barge it was necessary to remove the wings

and refit them again at Whenuapai. This was duly done and then an approach was made to me to see if

I would, as an Inspector, check the reconnection of the aileron control rods and sign out the flight

control inspection certificate. I expressed reluctance to do this as the Regulations are very clear as to

who can sign off a full control inspection of an aircraft that has had its control runs interfered with.

Briefly the Regulations state, two competent engineers are required to independently inspect the entire

control runs to all control surfaces, checking to see that they have been connected correctly, safety lock

wired, running correctly over pulleys etc.etc. The First Inspection can only be done by an engineer

licensed on the type of aeroplane. The Second Inspection can be carried out by an engineer licensed on

any type of aircraft but not necessarily on the type being inspected. I did not hold a licence for the

Aircoupe and when I expressed my reluctance I was told that the First Inspection had been done and

signed for by the Head of Maintenance at Mechanic's Bay and the Second Inspection by the head of the

Light Aircraft Section at Mechanics Bay. All they wanted me to do was look at the aileron connections

at the wing root to see that they had been reconnected correctly. With this assurance I went ahead and

carried out the wing root control connection inspection -- and signed a bit of paper!

Some months later after I had returned to Mechanics Bay the brown stuff hit the rotating mechanism.

The Aircoupe owner who had been happily flying the aircraft for months invited a Canadian visitor for

a ride. It seems that the Canadian had many flying hours on the type and after the first take-off, when

he initiated a turn, found the aircraft was at first reluctant to turn in the desired direction, but in fact

started to go the other way, gave a bit of a shudder, then went the right way. On each turn the same

sequence occurred. When the Canadian expressed his concern the owner apparently replied it had been

doing this ever since T.E.A.L. had rebuilt the aircraft. The aircraft did not have rudder pedals. The

rudder and aileron control rods were integrated. When the car-like steering wheel was moved left or

right to initiate a banked turn, aileron and rudder would be applied. After landing the aircraft was

inspected and it was found the rudder control rods had been crossed so the rudders, the small rudders,

12

were moving in the wrong direction when a turn was initiated. As the steering wheel throw was

increased the larger ailerons took effect and overcame the rudder effect, and moved the aircraft in the

correct direction, after a shudder and a shake. Enter the Department of Civil Aviation: "Who signed the

final control inspection certificate?” "Gary Sommerville" was the cry. "An inquiry will be held, and this

man will probably be shot at dawn for endangering human life".

Well as can be imagined, I was a worried young man. To ensure that I understood the Regulations

correctly, I closely read the section on the requirements for the First and Second Inspections, and the

thought occurred to me that, as the Aircoupe was such a rare bird in New Zealand, it was unlikely that

the Head of Maintenance was licensed on the type. Due to an innocent oversight on his part he may

have left himself wide open for an attack by the Civil Aviation Department. So out of concern for his

hide as well as mine I approached him in his office situated off an elevated catwalk halfway up the side

of the Mechanics Bay hangar interior, pointed out the relevant regulation then enquired if he was in

fact licensed on the type.

His reaction to my query left me stunned and unconsciously I backed out the door of his office such

was his fury. This was a man who was very hard to fathom. Dark and brooding, rarely smiled and had

great penetrating eyes and large bushy eyebrows. He had leapt to his feet and was spluttering with rage,

pointing a shaking finger at me, shouting "You insolent young pup! How dare you doubt my competence as

an aircraft engineer! Get out! Get out! You're sacked. Get out! Get out!” Well I'm red faced and

mortified because the whole hangar had heard this outburst, even over the clatter of rivet guns. What

to do? My boss at this stage was Gordon Willetts, the Head of the Inspection Division so I went to him

and said "Sorry but I've upset (name withheld), and he's just sacked me". "He can't do that. I'm your boss", he

said. "What's the problem"? When I explained my concern about the interpretation of the Regulations

concerning First Inspections, Gordon said "You are absolutely 100% correct and (name withheld),had no right

to sign that inspection. He is wrong and you are right. Leave the whole thing to me". Gordon sorted it all

out. I did not have to front up to the Civil Aviation Department and the Head of Maintenance never

spoke to me again from that day forward.

My Inspection duties also included the Sunderland Overhaul line and it was here that perhaps I met the

most resistance. A lot of these fellows had been working at the same job for 20 to 25 years, had never

been motivated to sit an exam, were very good at what they were doing, and so resented the young

bloke who had been with the Company only about a year, looking over their shoulders for faults and

incorrect practices, and there were some, but not often. All in all it was a happy relationship and we all

got along well. Each Sunderland overhaul took three months or more. Everything was removed from

them and sent to various workshops around the hangar. What was left in the hangar was an empty shell

with plenty of salt water corrosion to be cut out and new parts manufactured and refitted. The engines

were removed and completely taken apart, parts inspected, fixed, replaced, reworked, and finally

reassembled. Slowly the refurbished components emerged from the various workshops and the giant

was methodically rebuilt.

When each aircraft was finished it was taken out of the hangar, run down the ramp into the Auckland

Harbour, where engine testing and other system checks were carried out. Finally the aircraft was ready

for its five hour test flight. These test flights were conducted by Air force crews, with T.E.A.L staff

along to assist. An Inspection staff member was always sent along on each test flight to perform certain

functions. It was in this capacity that I was able to go along on three such five hour flights, an

experience which to this day excites me, having taken part in that delightful era of New Zealand

aviation, the Flying Boat years. An added bonus was some of my Air Force Boy Entrant buddies, who

had remained in the Service were now Sunderland Flight Engineers, and were crewing the test flight

aircraft. People like Noel Baker, Graham Corkill ‘Pop’ Knox and Tom Moody. They eventually turned

up in Air New Zealand as Flight Engineers, in the DC-8 era.

Sunderland Test Flights. Brian Bassett, Noel Baker, Warwick Knox, Graeme Corkill.

Each Test Flight started with taxi trials up

and down the harbour. The hull was settled

deep in the water and the thrill of sitting

low in the body with the water flung up at

eye level and streaming past was exciting.

13

Finally it came time to take off and with a great rush of water the great beast rose off the surface and

commenced a steady climb down the harbour past Rangitoto and Waiheke islands, out beyond the

northern tip of the Coromandel Peninsular, and over the Pacific Ocean. The first items on the test

schedule were a series of stalls and stall recoveries. That great sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach.

Off the tip of the Coromandel Peninsular is a small island, Channel Island. The next three hours would

be spent flying over the island, turning around and flying back over it again at a different compass

heading each time. Each of the 360° of the compass was calibrated in this way. During this procedure

other system functional tests would be carried out. The Sunderland’s being ex-wartime aircraft were

still fitted with the gun turrets and the tail gunners position was quite a thrill to occupy. Surrounded by

Plexiglas panels and travelling backwards.

None of the test flights went without some incident. On one of the flights an incident occurred

involving a fellow Air Force mate, though he wasn't a Boy Entrant, name of Trevor 'Snoz' Healey.

‘Snoz’ was the Flight Engineer on this day. The Flight Engineer's position on the Sunderland was not

part of the cockpit as with modern day aeroplanes, but access to it was from the rear of the cockpit. The

cockpit was quite a large area, occupied by the two Pilots, the Navigator and the Radio Operator. To

enter the Engineer's position it was necessary to climb through an opening at the rear of the cockpit,

climb over a low bulkhead, and plonk into the F/E's seat, facing aft. Communication between the

Engineer and the rest of the crew was via intercom radio.

On this day I was down below in the bowels of the

aircraft doing something, when simultaneously both

the Starboard engines quit. The aircraft gave a bit of a

lurch and a swing then both engines roared into life

again.

Not 'Snozs' fault, but he did admit later that with the

boredom of the to-ing and fro-ing of the compass

swing procedure, he had dozed off. When both the

motors quit he awoke in a flash, correctly guessing that

fuel starvation was the cause, immediately changed

fuel tank feeds, and both the engines roared back to life. Starboard engines viewed from in hull.

The cause was established later back at Mechanic's Bay. The starboard wing trailing edge fuel tank,

from which both starboard engines were feeding at the time, had collapsed. These tanks are metal but

covered by a black rubber compound that was supposed to be self-sealing in the event the tank became

punctured during the heat of battle, a bullet hole perhaps or a shrapnel splinter. The tanks had been

removed during the overhaul, inspected, refurbished and repainted, black. There are various pipe

connection openings in each tank, among them a vent pipe to atmosphere, to equalise tank internal air

pressure as the aircraft climbs or descends, but more importantly, to allow air to replace the fuel as two

thirsty engines are sucking fuel out. During the tank overhaul painting procedure, masking tape was

fixed over the openings to prevent paint from contaminating the tanks interior. The tape of course

received a good coating of black paint, and so when the black tank was lowered into the black tank bay

and the black rubber hose connection was fitted over the black vent opening, the masking tape (now

black) was not noticed. Result, two large engines sucking fuel from the tank, no air replacement, tank

collapse, engines fail.

On another day we had convinced one of the older characters of T.E.A.L.’s maintenance staff, 'Rocky'

Crooks to take a test flight. 'Rocky' had been doing the same job on Flying Boat engines for more than

20 years, and had never taken, never wanted to take, a flight in an aeroplane, any kind of aeroplane.

Retirement wasn't far off so with a lot of gentle persuasion he decided to give it a go. It was with some

misgivings that 'Rocky' set off on this adventure and I think he was having second thoughts when we

did the stall series. However when we started the lazy three hour compass swing procedure we

managed to get 'Rocky' into the rear turret, thinking that the claustrophobic effect would have him

tumbling out in no time. On the contrary! He loved it and we couldn't get him to come out and give

someone else a turn. He sat there in the sunshine for over an hour.

The next part of the test flight after departing Channel Island was testing bomb rack deployment. The

wing on a Sunderland is mounted on top of the body, and in the body space immediately below the

wing was a fairly large room, the Bomb Room. On each outside wall was a large door about the size of

14

a normal household interior door, but mounted on its side. Because the doors formed part of the

aeroplane's structure they were made of metal and were quite robust and heavy. The bomb racks were

mounted on rails that ran across the underside of the wing,

(the room's ceiling) and out each side of the aeroplane. In

wartime, bombs or depth charges would be fitted to the

racks in the room. When required for use, the

Navigator/Bomb Aimer up in the cockpit would activate

their release. Triggered from the cockpit the side doors

would move slightly inwards and drop quickly down on

tracks and bungee cords and the bomb racks would rattle

out under the wings. After 'bombs away' the racks would

move back inside for reloading.

Now comes the hard part. Air of course is rushing into the room, and the noise from the airflow and the

four mighty engines just outside, is colossal. Two people are required to use all their strength to

manually close these doors by pushing them up above their heads against the air stream. This was the

task assigned to 'Rocky' and myself on this day. We were standing in the middle of the bomb room,

clear of the doors and in intercom contact with the cockpit when the word came through, “Stand Clear”.

Bang, down come the doors, Whoosh, roar, air noise, engine noise, out rattle the bomb racks. “All okay”

we advise, and the racks rattle back in. We leap to the task and with great effort get the Port door up

into place. Over to the other side, grasp the other door, push it up above our heads.

I'll pause now to explain the next item on the test flight programme. The 'High Speed Dive'. The one

that they would use to dive away to sea level to escape enemy gunfire from the surprised and angry

shipboard people who have just had a bomb dropped on their heads. Either due to a loss of

communication or over enthusiastic pilots the next thing that happened was the old Sunderland noses

over and goes into the 'High Speed Dive'. Picture if you will old 'Rocky' and I, trying to hold this

mighty door above our heads, and trying to push it that final little bit into the locking recess. All the

while the speed, air pressure on the door, air and engine noises are all increasing. Add to this the

steepening angle of the floor.................. and down to the floor we tumble, door and all. And there we

remained from 5,000 feet to just above sea level.

Enough drama for 'Rocky's first flight? Not at all. The final test as we trundle in over the Hauraki Gulf,

straight and level is a trim check, altitude about 1,000 feet. This required an even distribution of weight

throughout the aircraft resulting in 'Rocky' and I being assigned to two crew bunks right at the back of

the aircraft down in the bottom of the hull. All Air force aircraft of the

war era were built to perform a function, and no comforts were built in

which would produce a weight penalty. Consequently the interior of

these aircraft were bare. No soundproofing, no wall linings, just bare

exposed structure and outer metal skin covering. The area we were in

was that part of the body where the side walls slope inwards and

downwards in a curve to meet at the bottom to form the keel. We were

to stand on a bunk on either side of the aircraft and each had a porthole

to look out of. Another requirement of Military flying was everyone at

all times wore their Mae West, the deflated inflatable life jacket.

So there we were, each at his own station and I am leaning forward over my curved sidewall looking

out my porthole as we are passing over the Tiri lighthouse. 'Rocky' is on his side of the aircraft doing

the same thing. The next thing I hear over the roar of the engines is this hissing- choking-gurgling

sound behind me. I turn around and there is old 'Rocky', red faced staring at me wide eyed, sinking to

his knees and clawing at his throat. ”My God! It’s all been too much for old 'Rocky' and he's having a

heart attack” I think. I leap over to his bunk on which he is now prone, and notice that his chest seems

to have doubled in size. Wait a minute? His life jacket is fully inflated. It transpired that as 'Rocky' was

leaning forward over his section of side wall, the jacket inflation line with its little wooden end piece

(the floggle toggle) had snagged in a piece of the aeroplane structure. When he stood up.....the jacket inflated.

He said later he panicked when he thought he had broken a vein or something in his neck. He had this

sudden tightening around the neck, this rushing sound in his ears and his chest was getting tighter and

tighter. It was so noisy where we were and coupled with the hearing impairment which comes with his

age, ‘Rocky’ did not hear the jacket inflating and so had thought the worst. Despite all of this 'Rocky'

had a great day and retired happily from aviation a short while later.

15

R.N.Z.A.F. Sunderland on patrol in Fiji. In the picture, just under the inboard engine, the bomb bay door can be seen. Below that and to the rear can be seen twin portholes above the rear bunks.

A Tasman Empire Airways Ltd Solent cockpit. Similar to the Sunderland. Captain, First Officer, Radio Officer and Navigator. The photo is probably taken from the access to the Flight Engineer station. I flew with two of these fellows many years later. The Captain is Ian Patterson. The Co-pilot/Navigator (standing) is Eddie Tredrea, later Captain Eddie Tredrea. Radio Operator is P. Murphy. Solent: ZK-AMN Awatere.

16

Tourist Air Travel Ltd. Brian Cox, Max Brister. In front of our Mechanic's Bay hangar workplace, Tourist Air Travel (T.A.T) operated a small airline

flying Grumman Widgeon amphibious seaplanes. The area in front of the T.E.A.L. hangar was hard-

standing concrete with a substantial ramp leading down into the Auckland Harbour, originally used to

haul the early T.E.A.L. flying boats in and out of the water for hangar maintenance, and still being

utilised at this time for the Sunderland overhaul programme. T.A.T operated from the concrete hard-

stand with their own small passenger terminal hut to one side. Passengers boarded on the hard-stand,

engines were started, then the Widgeon taxied down the ramp into the Waitemata Harbour, retracted

the main landing gear and tail wheel, nosed into wind, gunned the motors and roared away in a shower

of spray. The reverse occurred on the return journey with the landing gear being extended as the

aircraft was slowed to taxi speed approaching the ramp, motors gunned again to charge up the ramp

incline, then a sweeping 180 degree turn outside the terminal hut to come to a halt facing the ramp.

On more than one occasion when the weather was whipping the waves up a wing float was torn off and

I can still see the sight of a passenger ‘volunteer’, usually a young male, sitting-half-lying precariously

in the wind and lashing rain, on top of the wing with the good float attached. The purpose of this

manoeuvre was to ensure the bad side did not descend to the point where the wing tip dug into the

water. One other momentous occasion I witnessed was when one of the younger enthusiastic pilots

charged up the ramp a tad too fast, initiated the

sweeping 180 degree turn a smidgen too early and

caught the starboard main landing gear wheel on the

ramp’s raised concrete edge, pivoting the aircraft about

the caught wheel, and pitching the aircraft nose first off

the hard-stand and into the small shelly beach about 10

feet down. He had the presence of mind to quickly cut

the motors before the final topple so keeping damage to

a minimum. No substantial injuries and the extremely

robust Widgeon later that day was hoisted back up by a

mobile crane, with very little damage evident. Grumman Widgeon ZK-BAY on the ramp at Mechanics Bay

The Grumman Widgeon's association with New Zealand began in 1950. Amphibian Airways was

formed in 1950 by an Invercargill businessman who saw the potential of access to the South Island's

lakes, rivers, and fiords, and the surrounding areas. ZK-AVM was imported from Australia and

commenced charter work. Scheduled services to Stewart Island began in 1951, and a second aircraft,

ZK-BAY was imported in 1952. A new company, New Zealand Tourist Air Travel was formed by

Harry English (an Amphibian Airways Director) in 1954. ZK-BGQ was purchased from Reseau Aerien

Interinsdair (RAI) in Tahiti, and rebuilt by T.E.A.L. The company was licensed to carry out charter

work all around New Zealand. Chief Pilot (and later General Manager) Fred Ladd attracted a lot of

publicity for Air ambulance and rescue work. A second aircraft, ZK-BPX was added in 1960. In 1962

Tourist Air Travel acquired Amphibian Airways, and set up networks in both the North and South

Islands. Further aircraft were added with ZK-CFA joining the fleet in 1963 and ZK-CHG in 1964. In

addition ZK-BGQ and ZK-BPX underwent fuselage modifications.

In 1967 to celebrate his retirement, Fred Ladd, accompanied by wife Mabel flew Widgeon ZK-BGQ

under the Auckland Harbour Bridge. In the subsequent prosecution, Ladd was discharged without

conviction. However, the Magistrate did condemn the example of recklessness - but did praise Captain

Ladd's distinguished record. Fred was a WW2 R.N.Z.A.F. Grumman Avenger pilot flying in the real

fighting of the Pacific war with 30 Squadron in the Solomon Islands. Fred used the Grumman

Widgeon aeroplanes to service the islands of the Hauraki Gulf. He became known all over the country

with his infectious approach to life. A well-known and respected member of the aviation community.

The original Widgeon was under-powered by the Ranger L-440C-5, 200 horse power in-line engines it

was fitted with, and Fred wanted them to be upgraded to 260 horse power Continental Flat Six IO-470-

D engines with variable pitch propellers. He approached T.E.A.L. to do the design, manufacture, and

installation work which was duly undertaken. The Continental engines were more powerful and

heavier, and projected much further forward than the original Ranger engines so different weight and

balance calculations had to be done by the T.E.A.L. Chief Design Engineer. All this was duly

submitted to the Department of Civil Aviation, approved and the work carried out and completed.

17

Fred's well known catch cry was "A shower of spray and we're away" as he applied engine power and

sped across the harbour to take off, with his cargo of mums and dads and little children.

On the day of the first flight

of the newly engined

Widgeon, the Company sent

along some of T.E.A.L.'s

high profile engineers as

show of good faith, including

the Chief Design Engineer

and my immediate boss,

Chief Inspector Reg Brown.

T.A.T. Grumman Widgeon fitted with the original underpowered Ranger engines

All went well until the test programme called for the stalling demonstration. The engines were throttled

back and the speed started falling back to stall speed, the nose rose up, and then the aircraft stalled.

Down went the nose, down, down, down. Engine power was applied to speed up and recover from the

stall. The control column was pulled back to get back to level flight, but the aircraft just kept on going

down. A miscalculation had been made in the Weight and Balance calculations and the aeroplane was

way too nose heavy. The Hauraki Gulf was getting larger faster, and Fred was pulling with all his

might on the stick. I could imagine him shouting at the top of his voice “A shower of shit and we're in

it". However Fred is too good a Ladd to go like this and providence lent a hand and they managed to

achieve level flight fairly close to the water. The design team's pencils were re-sharpened and a large

lump of lead appeared in the correct shape and was fitted neatly into the keel as far back as they could

get it.

A couple of names from T.A.T. that became familiar to me in later years was T.A.T’s. ground

engineer, Brian Cox who became an Air New Zealand Flight Engineer, and Max Brister one of Fred's

pilot's, who became a B-747 Captain with Air New Zealand.

Tourist Air Travel Grumman Widgeon re-engined with Continental Flat sixes flies over Mechanics Bay. A later era photo when Tourist Air Travel became part of Mount Cook Airlines.

18

Whenuapai 1964. Lockheed L188-C Electra Check 6 Overhaul Program.

Early 1960’s T.E.A.L.’s fleet comprised 3 aircraft, Lockheed L-188C Electra Mk 2’s, ZK-TEA - ZK-

TEB and ZK-TEC. The aircraft purchased new in 1959 had reached the required number of flying

hours by 1964 to require their first major overhaul - the Check 6. I was living at Papakura at the time,

and was seconded from my workplace at Mechanic's Bay to Whenuapai as an Engineering Inspector on

the Check 6 programme. It involved a lot of extra travelling time around the top of the harbour. The

new Auckland Harbour Bridge had been open for just over five years but no road link to Whenuapai

via the bridge existed until the Upper Harbour crossing at Greenhithe was built in 1974. The

Whenuapai Bus Company operated its well established route through the populated centres via

Avondale-Henderson-Waikumete etc. around the western end of the harbour. For me it meant very

early starts to catch a bus from Papakura to Auckland, then boarding the Whenuapai Bus Company

service. When overtime was introduced, finishing after normal bus hours, the Company trained me for

a light transport licence and gave me a Company van to take the South Auckland men home at night

and collect them in the morning. The Company chose me because I lived the farthest away.

An interesting series of events occurred during the passage of all three aircraft through the Check Six

programme. The aircraft were stripped completely bare to expose all the structure for minute

inspection. When the first aircraft was in the process of being stripped of its passenger cabin lining, the

mechanic found just to the rear of the rear passenger door behind the lining, a roll of high quality

Teflon thread. This roll of thread had been clipped temporarily onto the structure by the bloke in the

Lockheed factory, who had used the thread to tie the insulation blankets to the structure. It appears that

the bloke that followed on behind had fitted the lining panel over the top of the roll, and there it had

remained until the Check 6. Nothing remarkable in that. The thread was coveted by us because Teflon

thread was then a new product, and made great fishing lines. When the second aircraft went through the

stripping process some weeks later, there behind the lining in exactly the same place, was another roll

of Teflon thread. Put there no doubt by the same fellow, and covered up no doubt, by the same

following automaton. When the third aircraft was stripped, a small crowd of expectant keen fishermen

gathered at the spot just aft of the rear door. When the lining panel was whipped off with a flourish......

nothing. It was generally agreed that the stringer fellow from Lockheed had probably been fired for

excessive use of Teflon thread. There were other stories circulating about the Lockheed Company

production line, and its quality control procedures. One such story involves another airline's Electra

that had been returned to the Lockheed Company for strengthening, which was required by the

L.E.A.P. programme (Lockheed Electra Action Program). When the wing was opened up for the work to

proceed they found a Lockheed Company vacuum cleaner in a fuel tank, which had been there since

the aircraft was built. It had been slip-sliding around inside the tank causing a bit of damage. I guess

the culprit had earlier followed Mr Stringer down the unemployment road for the unexplained

disappearance of Company vacuum cleaners.

L.E.A.P. (Lockheed Electra Action Program). Not long after the Electra entered airline service, there were

three crashes, two of which involved wing separation (the other was attributed to pilot error). On 29

September 1959, just prior to the delivery of the T.E.A.L. Electras, a Braniff Airlines L-188 Electra

N9750C construction number (cn) 1090

mysteriously crashed on a flight from

Houston to Dallas in the USA. The aircraft

was only 10 days old at the time of the

accident. Northwest Orient Airlines of the

USA lost Electra N121US cn 1057 on 13th

March 1960 (depicted in the photo) on a flight

from Chicago to Miami. This was NWA’s

first Electra delivered to the airline just a few

months before. As a result of these crashes,

performance restrictions were imposed. The

speed was reduced initially to 275 knots down from 324knots and then further reduced to 225 knots

along with deactivation of the autopilot. Lockheed then launched an intensive investigation program

followed by a modification program which became known as LEAP. After the LEAP program was

completed the autopilot was reactivated and the maximum speed was set at 250 knots.

19

These last two in-flight accidents mirrored each other and shocked the aviation industry. The FAA

Administrator requested Lockheed Aircraft Corporation to re-evaluate the Electra. NASA and

Lockheed engineers eventually determined that the engine mounts—following the failure of an engine

mount during a hard landing—allowed too much precessional movement of the propellers at a critical

frequency which allowed "whirl-mode" aeroelastic phenomenon, "flutter" in flight. This flutter, by pure

chance, occurred at the wings' natural resonance frequency, which further excited the harmonic

oscillations, which increased the wing flutter that eventually led to separation of a wing from the

fuselage. The engine mounts were redesigned and the wing stiffened so the problem was solved by

1961. "Whirl Mode" refers to the results of the application of a force to gyroscopic characteristics of a

rotating propeller. When such a force is applied, precession occurs; i.e. like a gyroscope the propeller

reacts ninety degrees out of phase to the applied force. This causes the structural resistance of the

engine mounting system to apply a nose-down pitching moment. This forces the propeller disc (as

viewed from the rear) to turn to the left due to precession. This in turn causes a nose-down propeller disc

yawing to the right, which causes a nose-up pitch, completing the cycle. This combination of effects is

termed the "Whirl Mode", and its direction of rotation is opposite to that of the propeller rotation.

John Margwarth, a University of Michigan man, was director of safety for Lockheed, and it was his

insight that led to an investigation revealing that the Electra's fatal flaw was in the three member

structure connecting the gearbox and the engine, a part supplied by the engine manufacturers. When

one member of that structure failed, the engine mount became flexible. On an outboard engine, at the

Electra's original cruise speed, failure of the strut induced immediate violent flutter that tore the wing

off. Technically, Lockheed could have passed the problem off to the engine manufacturer, disclaiming

responsibility. Instead, it redesigned the wing structure so that it would not flutter when such a failure

occurred. (Allison, the engine manufacturer also redesigned the strut so that it would not fail.) Additional

mounts were added to stabilize the propeller in the event that any mount failed, or if breakage occurred

between the gearbox and the power section. The nacelle structure was also strengthened by the addition

of reinforcements and diagonal braces.

The program obviously worked because Electra's are still flying to this day in the year 2007. ZK-TEB

‘Atarau’ delivered to T.E.A.L in 1959 was still flying in 2001 for Reeve Aleutian Airways in Alaska as

N178RV. ZK-CLX which replaced ZK-TEC in 1965 (After ZK-TEC was destroyed in a 1965 training

accident) also went to Reeve Aleutian Airways as N1968R and flew with them for 33 years. It then

went to Air Spray Canada as a fire bomber aircraft, C-GHZI where it flew its first fire season in 2004.

An Electra of Braniff Airlines at Chicago O’Hare July 1964. Each four paddle blade propeller is 14 feet (4.6 metres) in diameter and when spinning at up to 2000 r.p.m. possesses considerable gyroscopic force. Compare the height of the mechanic in the photo with the propeller diameter!

20

ZK-TEC at Whenuapai in the early 1960’s. Note the B.O.A.C Comet-4C jetliner in the background.

Morane-Saulnier MS. 890 Rallye Commodore

Test Flight. Bryan Gault. During my time at Mechanic's Bay T.E.A.L's Light Aircraft Section won a contract with Seabrooke

Fowlds a well-established motor car importing firm in Auckland, to assemble the French designed and

built four place single engine Morane-Saulnier MS.890 Rallye Commodore. Lloyd Seabrooke, son of

the firm's owner was a light aircraft enthusiast and was the motivation behind the importation.

Morane-Saulnier a French aviation company began building planes in WW-I and continued producing

military aircraft through WW-2. Morane-Saulnier needed a new market in the years following WW-2

when the demand for fighter aircraft dropped. In the late 1950’s in response to the French

government’s call for developing a plane for the civilian general aviation market, Morane-Saulnier

designed the Rallye. The Rallye won the government competition for a safe trainer/tourer thanks to its

high-lift wing devices and short take-off and landing characteristics. The original Morane-Saulnier

M.S.880 made its first flight on June 10th

1959. The 2 seat (or 3 seat if everyone was trim) aircraft,

powered by a 100hp Continental O-200 went into production the following year, and became known as

the Rallye-Club due to its intended market. A 105hp Potez powered version was known as the

M.S.881. The next in the series, the M.S.885 was uprated to a 145hp Continental. Known as the Super

Rallye, it first flew on January 1st 1961. The M.S.890 Rallye Commodore with a 150hp Lycoming

engine was the first 4 seat version.

At this stage I was in the Inspection Division and was involved in the Lockheed Electra Check 6

programme at Whenuapai. The first Rallye assembled at Mechanics Bay arrived at Whenuapai on a

barge towed up the upper harbour reaches to a landing point near Whenuapai. Lloyd was greatly

excited to have the first aircraft of his new business venture ready to fly. "We need a volunteer to show

the Company's good faith to Mr Seabrooke", the older and wiser members of the Inspection Division

said, pointing to me. So off we went for a short test flight in NZ’s first Morane-Saulnier Rallye and

returned to Whenuapai. So great was Lloyd's enthusiasm that he wanted to get the aeroplane over to the

Auckland Aero Club at Ardmore that very evening before it got dark. Only problem was he had this

brand new top of the range motor vehicle at Whenuapai. "That's no problem" I volunteered for the

second time that day, "I live in Papakura. I could drive your car to Ardmore for you, if you could drive me

the 5 miles to my house". Now these were the days in New Zealand where the average citizen drove very

old rust buckets. Only the country's wealthy elite, because of government policy could purchase and

21

drive a new car. Only those people who had overseas funds with which to pay for imported vehicles,

could own a new car. Any near new vehicles discarded by this select few, were very quickly snapped

up by wealthy citizens in the next tier down, and happily paid a higher price than the new car price.

Such were the days when the rich simply got richer with Government approval, and the average citizen

was forced on to the roads in old unsafe motorcars.

To my great delight and the envy of the others who 'volunteered' me in the first place, Lloyd thought it

was a terrific idea and handed me the keys. When I arrived at Ardmore Lloyd had been there for an

hour or so, and invited me into the Auckland Aero Club rooms to meet the club's president, one Bryan

Gault. Sometime after I started flying duties with T.E.A.L. Bryan joined as a co-pilot. A few months

later when we started on DC-8s, he and I with others were based in Sydney for two years. He

eventually rose to Captain and we flew together for nearly 25 years and later we both became Flight

Simulator instructors.

Lloyd went about the country demonstrating that first Rallye aircraft to Aero Clubs and private buyers

and sadly when demonstrating to clients one day at Waharoa near Matamata, the aircraft dove into the

ground and all four persons on board were killed. The accident occurred on 27th

March 1965, the same

day as T.E.A.L.'s Electra crash at Whenuapai.

Whenuapai 7th March 1964. Morane-Saulnier M.S. 890 Rallye Commodore ZK-CDA being towed back into the T.E.A.L. hangar after its first flight.

12th

June 1964. Lockheed L188-C Electra test flight.

Phil Le Couteur, Frank Kilgour, Roger Dalziell. Again as a demonstration of faith to the flight crew selected staff members went along on test flights

following major overhauls. It was in this capacity after ZK-TEA’s Check 6 I had my first flight in an Electra. Flight duration 3hrs:40. Captains Phil Le Couteur and Frank Kilgour with one of the

Company's newest First Officers, Roger Dalziell a rugby team mate of mine in our Air Force days.

L188-C Whenuapai. Behind the Electra, a T.E.A.L. DC-6, engines running and ready for departure. A second T.E.A.L. DC-6 at rear parked on the grass. T.E.A.L.’s last DC-6 service was flown 21

st March 1961.

22

My appointment to a Flight Engineer position with T.E.A.L. Lockheed L188-C Electra Type Rating Course.

I joined Tasman Empire Airways Ltd / T.E.A.L. on 9

th September 1963 and 14 days later on 23

rd

September 1963 the Company signed a contract with the Douglas Aircraft Company of America for the

purchase of three DC-8 series 52 passenger jet airliners for delivery in 1965, effectively doubling

T.E.A.L.’s aircraft inventory and increasing their staffing requirements.

In September 1964 after my return to Mechanics Bay following the completion of the Electra fleet

Check 6 major inspection programme, life as an Inspector continued as normal, then a notice appeared

on the notice board calling for expressions of interest in becoming Flight Engineers. I applied for the

next intake when it was advertised two months later.

After the interview process (conducted by Captain Cliff Le Couteur) 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 at Mechanics Bay, there in the waiting room looking just as mystified was fellow ground

engineer Warwick Underwood. "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".

So that is how I learnt my life was going to be changed quite dramatically, for the next thirty five years. The official Company notification arrived in the mail a few days later.

23

24

11th January 1965 - 19th February 1965.

Lockheed L-188C Type Rating Course and Cadet Flight Engineer 'O' licence Course.

Course members consisted of 13 Abinitio Flight Engineers and 6 pilots:

Flight Engineers: Vic Bentley - Robin Hickman - Graham Jacobsen - Dave Macpherson - Denis Phillips - George Richardson - Gary Sommerville - Ron Spencer - Les Sutherland – John Switzer - Warwick Underwood - Graeme Walsh - Graeme Wood. Pilots: Arthur Cooper - Jack Griffiths - Bob Harman - Geoff King - Tony Lynch - Alan McGreevy.

For me it was a quantum leap from constructing Fletcher Top-dressers to controlling all the systems on

board a State of the Art, modern day jet-prop airliner.

The Electra Type Rating course was conducted in an old two-storey wooden building in Fanshawe St.

Auckland. It was actually the same building I went to aged 15 for my initial interview to join the Air

Force. It was there the Air Force had its recruiting centre in 1952. Our classroom was on the second

floor above busy Fanshawe St. and next door to Mason and Porter’s shipbuilding yard. None of the

windows in the room could be opened, so in the hot January - February summer weeks, with traffic

noise and banging and crashing noises from the shipyard, we set off on this journey, gaining new

knowledge and skills. Hard work, especially after lunch. Not as hard though as the upright two-person

wooden school desks we occupied for the duration of the course, with built-in wooden bench seat. The

desk top still had the neat little holes to accommodate the white china ink wells which I remember

filling on those Papakura school days when I was granted the proud honour of being the ‘ink monitor’

for the day. I wondered about the scattered ink stains in and around the groove cut into the bench top

between the wells, a groove fashioned to hold the nibbed pens, and I could almost see the eager owners

of the little blue stained fingers clutching the wooden pen shafts while contributing to the stains.

I shared my Fanshawe Street desk with fellow Abinitio Flight Engineer Graeme Walsh, who was to

gain international fame many years later when an Air New Zealand Boeing 747 was hijacked in Nandi

Fiji whilst parked at the terminal building. After several tense hours when the Hijacker was distracted

Graeme whacked the sole hijacker over the head with a bottle (unopened of course) of duty free Teachers

Whisky. This enabled the pilots Captain Graeme Gleeson and First Officer Mike McLeay, to leap out

of their seats and overpower the man who had explosives strapped to his body.

The Electra Type Rating course took six weeks and at the end of that period the pilots departed to start

their flying training. We were to meet up again a few weeks later for an Emergency Procedures course.

The Flight Engineers had another four weeks completing the 'O' Licence course. This was a course

designed to achieve a Flight Engineer Cadet licence. It was a licence which allowed you to fly under

training and occupy the Flight Engineer seat, unqualified, but under supervision of a qualified training

engineer. It consisted of a standard Civil Aviation curriculum which had been unchanged since the

piston engine Douglas DC-6 days. We had to learn about DC-6 engines, superchargers etc. and DC-6

performance figures, just to sit and pass the exam. A bit outdated and knowledge of no use in the

future, but it served its purpose.

After the ground course would come the flying side of the training. There were thirteen engineers to be

trained on the Company's total fleet of three aeroplanes. Each person was to receive a minimum of 150

hours flying training and a maximum of 300 hours, and if you hadn't made the grade by then you would

be dropped. The flying training period was going to be protracted but before we even got started it was

further complicated by the

crash of one of those aircraft

reducing the company fleet

to two. It took eight months

to gain my 150 hours.

The conditions were not

conducive to consolidated

learning as I would

sometimes wait two or more

weeks between flights -- as

of course did everyone else.

Lockheed L-188C Electra Mk 2. ZK-TEC. Wellington Airport early 1960’s.

25

Before we could start flying training though we had to complete an emergency procedures course

followed by a practical hands-on session in real time in an aircraft in flight - Airborne Emergency Drills.

13th March 1965. ZK-TEC. Airborne Emergency Drills

were a regular thing with T.E.A.L. when I first started with the airline. The airline at this stage did not

have a Flight Simulator so all aircrew procedural training was done in the real aeroplane during crew-

only circuit flying details at Auckland's International Airport at Whenuapai.

Airborne emergency drill sessions were conducted in the aircraft cabin area during some of these

circuit training details. So it came to pass on 13th

March 1965 during a routine 4 hour 180-Day Flight-

crew circuit training detail, all 19 members of my Electra Type Rating Course were on board to do our

Airborne Emergency Procedures training. This consisted of removing the heavy inflatable dinghies

from the cabin ceiling and positioning them in the aisle by the over-wing exits -- removing the over-

wing exits in-flight, and opening the main cabin doors in-flight. The purpose of opening doors in-flight

before an emergency landing was a precaution in case the body twisted after landing jamming the

doors closed. Not a requirement in the more robust airliners of today. Very noisy and very scary for

first-timers such as myself. All this activity was going on while the cockpit crew, divorced from our

activity, carried on with their flying training programme.

I can well remember the alarming sight of the emergency procedures instructor

Captain Cliff Le Couteur (photo left), at 7,000 feet standing defiantly at the open rear

passenger door, back to the opening, heels on the door sill, arms folded and glaring

at us. I was on the opposite side of the cabin hugging a seat back as hard as I could.

Cliff was very much a ‘hands on’ character. An ‘education by demonstration’ person.

In his role as emergency procedures instructor when the DC-8’s were introduced

Cliff demonstrated how to evacuate the cockpit exiting via the sliding side window

using the escape rope. Unfortunately The Douglas Aircraft Company had erred in not attaching the

coiled rope to the airframe, allowing Cliff to plummet to the ground and injuring his back.

We were also required to open the Electra’s right hand rear service door situated in a smooth sided area

in the rear galley, that is, it had no hand holds, nothing to grip. The door was a completely removable

plug type door which had to be unlocked from the inside, rotated and at the same time pushed slightly

out before it could be pulled inside the aircraft. The real purpose of the door was to load galley stores

on the ground. A story told was, on a previous detail, an overzealous cabin crew member pushed the

door too far into the slipstream and was on his way out the opening, firmly clutching the door. Swift

action by the instructor prevented the loss of the student and the door. We were instructed to be seated

and strapped in for all landings and take-offs. After a few circuits we were sufficiently disorientated so

were often standing when the aircraft landed or did a touch-and-go.

One humorous sequence took place after one of our number started to turn green and was ordered to sit

down and strap himself in for the remainder of the detail. Cliff seized on the situation and said to

Warwick Underwood, "This 'passenger' requires oxygen; you administer it please, in the proper manner".

Well Warwick thinks "Portable oxygen supply?" and the only one he could remember in the confusion

of the moment was the one in the cockpit. He roars up to the flight deck, grabs the oxygen bottle,

forgetting this bottle unlike the passenger version is fitted with a full-face smoke mask, and proceeds to

fit the mask to the head of the unfortunate ill 'passenger'. He had just pulled the adjustment straps tight

around the back of the ‘passengers’ head, and was reaching for the tap on the bottle when the aircraft

landed, applied braking and full engine reverse. Warwick took off forward, mowing down half a dozen

seat backs in the process. His progress was slowly arrested by the tubing attached to the oxygen bottle

and the head of the 'passenger', who being strapped in was forcibly having his neck stretched, to add to

his already considerable misery. And so the detail continued until each one of us has removed and re-

stowed a dinghy, an over-wing exit, a cabin door or two, administered oxygen and located and

demonstrated the correct use of portable fire extinguishers. The final un-scripted act on the final

landing was to see the left-hand inner engine spew oil over the wing and the window I was looking out

of at the time, resulting in an engine shutdown during taxi to the gate. The flight engineer receiving the

180-Day check at the time was Bill Wallace, who I had first met at Ohakea when as an 18 year old he

26

had spent his 18 month Compulsory Military Training period in the same workshop as me. Bill and I

were later based in Sydney for 2 years on DC-8 aircraft.

Saturday 27th

March 1965.

Crash of ZK-TEC.

Two weeks after our Airborne Emergency Drill flight in ZK-TEC the aircraft crashed on landing

during a 180-Day circuit detail and was destroyed. No Emergency Drill training was taking place on

this day. The crew on board all escaped unhurt out the flight deck windows before the aircraft burnt.

The crew were Captain Nevill 'Nobby' Clarke, Captain Cliff Le Couteur, Flight Engineer Arthur

Baldock, Training Flight Engineer Jim Cranston and observers, Tim Dyer - Emergency Procedures

Manager, and Mr Neville McKay - T.EA.L.’s Industrial Personnel Officer. Needless to say had we

been on board that day there most certainly would have been fatalities. There were no more Airborne

Emergency Drills flights conducted by the Company from that day forward. We were the last ones.

Lockheed L-188C Electra ZK-TEC. ‘Akaroa’ meaning Long Harbour.

The hole burnt in the side was from the passenger emergency oxygen bottle which ignited like a blow torch.

ZK-TEC Christchurch Gate 6 1965, some days before crashing and being written off in a training accident.

ZK-TEC was replaced quickly by

purchasing an Electra from Qantas

which was surplus to their requirements.

The aircraft VH-ECC was re-registered

in New Zealand as ZK-CLX and went

into service on 18th April 1965.

27

Auckland - Sydney ZK-TEB Captain Les Simpson. 4th April 1965.

First flight under training The Company had changed its name 4 days earlier to Air New Zealand Limited.

ZK-TEB. ‘Atarau’. Whenuapai.

My Electra Type Rating Course was a large one of 19 students, and as all crew uniforms were tailor-

made by one small firm in Karangahape Rd, (Jaffe’s Men’s Outfitters) not all of the uniforms had been

tailored when I started. Now that I was officially on the Flight Operations staff I was advanced the

princely sum of 10 shillings (NZ $1), an advance to cover a month’s away from home expenses. We

were required to pay our own meal and reasonable sundry expenses when out of the country then make

a monthly claim for reimbursement. The 10 shillings was to be repaid to the Company upon ceasing

employment. Fortunately this cumbersome system, requiring amongst other difficulties currency

exchange at each stop changed in later years and over 3 decades later when I retired I was not requested

to repay the $1 advance. An oversight perhaps by Air New Zealand!

My first flight, and in fact for the first month or two I was attired in a light grey double breasted suit of

my own. The cockpit had a full crew complement of Captain, First Officer, Flight Engineer and

Navigator. The cockpit was not designed with any supernumerary seating, and as my first flights were

to be in an Observing category, I was instructed to stand behind Training Flight Engineer Neville Hay’s

seat and hang on to the back of it for all take off and landings. Something that would never be done or

approved of in later times. Without a Flight Simulator, no prior cockpit experience was available or

could be gained any other way, and so this was how it was done. Flight Engineer Neville Hay went on

to become Air New Zealand's first flight engineer to become a Company pilot without first resigning

from Air New Zealand. Previously it was necessary to resign from T.E.A.L/Air New Zealand, get a

pilot job with N.A.C, gain experience with them for a few years, and then re-apply for an Air New

Zealand pilot's job. Getting re-hired by Air New Zealand was not always a foregone conclusion so it

was a risky career decision. He later became Captain on DC-8, DC-10, and B-747's, and the Company's

Chief Technical Captain. Derek Stubbs was another Flight Engineer who did it the old way eventually

rising to DC-10 and Boeing 747 Captain.

My only recollection of this first flight was the take-off. This was done at Whenuapai, towards the

north, on runway 03. The runway was still the wartime hexagonal concrete block surface and was

reasonably bumpy. I remember the trepidation I felt as the aircraft quickly gathered speed down the

runway and I was clutching fiercely to the back of Neville's seat. Bump, bump, bump we went,

28

attaining what seemed to me to be an incredible speed, and then suddenly we were airborne. What I

actually learnt that day was minimal as I was most likely in everybody else's way, particularly the

Navigator who regularly leapt to his feet and swung his seat around. He then proceeded to climb up on

a stool which materialised from some hidden corner and poked a sextant out the roof to take sun shots.

Without a Simulator or access to the cockpit of a real aeroplane during the ten week ground course at

Fanshawe St, the first major difficulty I found with this early flight training was locating everything in

the cockpit. In the classroom the Fuel system diagram was up on the left corner of the front wall, the

Air-conditioning and Pressurisation system was displayed somewhere in the middle of the wall with

the Electrical and Hydraulic systems etc. elsewhere. When the Training Engineer in the cockpit would

ask me a question about the fuel system for example, I would instinctively look up in the top left corner

of the Cockpit, as I would have done in the classroom, and find nothing remotely connected with the

fuel system up there.

Accommodation was in the Manhattan hotel, Greenknowe Ave, Kings Cross, Sydney. A normal roster

pattern in those days was to operate to Sydney on the first day and then be based in this hotel for the

next six days. On our second duty we would operate to say, Sydney - Wellington and back to Sydney.

Next duty would be to Sydney - Christchurch and back to Sydney. We might on other occasions

operate Sydney - Wellington - Melbourne - overnight in Melbourne and then operate Melbourne -

Christchurch - Sydney. We would spend most of our nights away from home in either Melbourne,

Sydney or Brisbane, but mostly in Sydney.

Training in those early days had some major shortcomings. I think the Company very quickly came to

the same conclusion. 13 flight engineers to train on a two aircraft fleet so a week or two after my first

training flight the Company purchased Electra Flight Simulator training time from Qantas in Sydney.

23rd April - 9th May. Electra Simulator Training. Qantas Training Centre Sydney Airport.

On 22nd

April 1965, 18 days after my first flight a small group of Abinitio Flight Engineers were sent

to Sydney as passengers on ZK-TEB and settled into the Manhattan Hotel Kings Cross for a three week

stay. At this point I had only completed seven sectors under training so the opportunity to have

Simulator training was looked forward to with eagerness. No previous T.E.A.L. / Air New Zealand

aircrew had received Simulator training so this was a new experience not only for the pupils but for the

Training personnel as well. Training in the real aircraft during regular passenger flights had always of

necessity been very restrictive. Naturally you couldn't alarm passengers by doing practice engine

shutdowns, or practice emergency descents etc. so previous training methods were to instruct crews on

how to do these particular procedures, but never actually do any of them before a real event occurred.

Some procedures could be practised during circuit training details, but things like engine fires could not

be realistically shown. In the Simulator you could do all of these things with marvellous realism, in

perfect safety, and of course much cheaper than the operating costs of a real aeroplane. So here was an

opportunity to have hands-on experience of all sorts of emergencies and systems failures which would

probably never be encountered in real life anyway. You would know, should a real emergency pop up

in the future, that you had successfully handled the procedure hands-on, a number of times before in

simulation.

Flying training re-commenced

from Sydney after the simulator training period and after a three day break in the Manhattan Hotel.

The aircraft was ZK-CLX the replacement for ZK-TEC and had been in Air New Zealand service for

24 days. May 12th

I departed Sydney with Captain Noel Calder in command and a line engineer Mike

Hewett as my mentor. I assume because of the large number of Abinitio engineers on my course (13 of

us) to train, each requiring a minimum of 150 flying hours, there were not enough qualified training

staff to complete the task in the allotted time, so senior line engineers were used. Some qualified

training staff had been diverted to tasks associated with the forthcoming introduction of DC-8s. Upon

reflection it was not a particularly good decision but these were the limitations of a three aircraft airline

about to double in size and with limited staff numbers. So I set out with Mike on this day and operated

Sydney – Wellington – Sydney, and for the first time in the real aircraft occupied the Flight Engineer’s

29

seat from start to finish, with the ‘Trainer’ standing behind me clutching the seat back. The following

day the 13th

we repeated the cycle Sydney – Wellington – Sydney in ZK-TEB and on the 14th

operated

ZK-CLX Sydney – Auckland, arriving home 24 days after departing to Sydney for Simulator training.

In the next eighteen days I operated just 2 sectors to Nandi Fiji and return, with properly qualified

training engineer Gordon Tonkin. This tour of duty included a three day stopover in Fiji. Just over 13

months later Gordon was to tragically lose his life in a DC-8 training accident at Auckland

International Airport.

ZK-TEB. Rongatai Wellington

Tasman Empire Airways Limited, International Route structure December 1964. This was the route structure which existed when I started flying in 1965. New Caledonia and Norfolk Island routes were not flown by Electras but by a leased Qantas Douglas DC-4, a four propeller aircraft driven by piston engines.

30

Lockheed L-188C Electra cockpit instrumentation: Engine Instrument panel in front of the Flight Engineer's position. The red handles at the top are Emergency Shutdown Handles for each of the 4 engines. The inclined panel at the bottom and the darker grey section at the front of the pedestal is the Flight Engineer’s fuel system controls and gauges.

Overhead Systems panel above Flight Engineer’s position. Air-Conditioning systems, Hydraulic systems, Electrical systems, Pressurisation system and other systems controls and gauges are positioned here. The 4 round red buttons under guards bottom centre of the panel are the propeller feather buttons to be used in an engine shutdown emergency. With an engine shutdown the propeller blades must be feathered, i.e. turned to present the smallest frontal area to the airflow. Feathering can be achieved by 3 methods. Pushing in the red feathering button or pulling the Engine Emergency Shutdown handle or in certain circumstances, automatically by action of an Auto-Feather function.

31

Centre pedestal in front of the Flight Engineer. The ribbed area at the bottom of the photo is the Flight Engineer’s foot rest. Two sets of identical throttles for the 4 engines are available to each pilot. The Flight Engineer would make engine power adjustments using the set of throttles opposite to the pilot-flying at the time. The left and right sloped areas of the pedestal accommodate the flight engineer’s engine propeller controls (left) and engine Oil Cooler Flap control switches (right) and below on each side are radio controls.

32

These photos were taken by fellow Flight Engineer Warwick Underwood. Circa early 1960’s. Navigator Harry Butterworth at Navigator station behind the Captain and facing rearwards.

Below: Harry has installed the Sextant in the roof and taking a sun shot.

33

Flight Deck viewed from Passenger Cabin. Navigator's stool for use with sextant is on the floor.

Navigator Harry Butterworth facing aft. Captain Ron McKenzie on the left. Spare First Officer Jack Humphries temporarily sitting in Flight Engineer's seat while Warwick Underwood is taking the photographs. The First Officers seat is out of view to the right obscured in this photo by the inward opening cockpit door. As can be seen by this photo there was no room for a supernumerary crew member to be seated in the cockpit for take-off and landing during route flying training sessions. For circuit training details the navigator was not required so his seat was always available for the Check and Training pilot or Check and Training Flight Engineer to occupy and be strapped in. Photos provided by Warwick Underwood.

34

Captain Ron McKenzie. Ron flew R.N.Z.A.F. Vampire jet fighters in Cyprus in the early 1950’s and Venom jet fighters in Singapore-Malaya against Communist insurgents during the ‘Malaysian Emergency’ of the late 1950’s

In this photo taken by Warwick Underwood, Co-pilot Bill Willis can be seen in the Co-pilot’s seat on the right. Jack Humphries is occupying the Flight Engineer’s position temporarily. This was a period of expansion within the Company with many new crew members appearing. Here Co-pilot Humphries is showing procedures to new Co-pilot Willis. Because no provision was made in the Electra cockpit for supernumerary crew seating, a form of musical chairs was necessary when training was in progress. The basic three cockpit crew members sat line abreast facing the front. The Navigator when carried sat facing aft.

35

Captain Murray (Mick) Taylor and First Officer Jack Humphries (ex-James Aviation DC-3 top-dresser pilot). Mick Taylor also was flying Venoms in the late 1950s during the ‘Malaysian Emergency’.

Captain John Tanner, ex R.N.Z.A.F. Vampire pilot in Cyprus early 1950’s

Navigator Ron Wilson-Walker

36

15th August 1965. My final checkout.

After about 143 hours of flying training I was deemed ready for my final Check Ride. This was to

consist of a minimum six Tasman Sea sectors and be conducted by the Chief Training Engineer Ray

Poole, who I had not encountered in a cockpit before. I had met Ray, light-heartedly referred to as

'Cess' Poole but not by his trainees within his hearing but more widely known as ‘Scratchy’, a few

times before in the Rex hotel in Sydney’s Kings Cross. The back bar of the ‘Rex’ was the preferred

watering hole of Air New Zealand crews when we stayed at the Greenknowe Avenue, Manhattan

Hotel. My first introduction to Aussie ‘Schooners’ and ‘Middies’ and ice cold beer the way the

‘Ockers’ like it and with an alcoholic content twice that of the warmer Kiwi equivalent.

On the 15th

August 1965 we set out on the first leg of this journey, Auckland - Sydney. The Captain

was operating his first sector as Captain, having just been checked out the day before. He was

understandably nervous being his first ever Command trip, as indeed was I setting out on my final

check series. All went well and on arrival in Sydney's Manhattan hotel in accordance with tradition,

the new Captain 'shouted' his crew and members of other crews resident in the hotel at the time. The

new Skipper lasted only about an hour, then due to a combination of released nervous energy and beer,

suddenly went rubbery at the knees and subsided into a deep sleep. "Come on" Poole said to me,

indicating we gather up the somnolent fellow and we carried him upstairs then bundled him into bed.

This was 11:30 in the a.m. The ‘Skipper’ joined the R.N.Z.A.F. at about the same time I did, but via a

different entry scheme. He went to the Royal Air Force in England for pilot training then spent a

considerable time based in Germany flying Gloster Meteor jet fighters.

The next day turned into a can of worms as far as my checkout was concerned. Bad weather and

closed airports in New Zealand, meant we had to fly from Sydney to Melbourne, pick up stranded

passengers and take them to Auckland, arriving back at home-base two days earlier than planned. So

my six-sector checkout sequence was disrupted for a couple of days. On the 18th

of August 1965 we set

out again Auckland-Sydney. The following day we operated Sydney-Wellington-Sydney, to complete

my six sectors, and Ray Poole deemed me good enough and signed off my book in Sydney.

So there I was on the 19th

of August 1965, after 154 hours and 5 minutes, plus 80 hours in a Flight

Simulator, a brand new Flight Engineer. The most junior and inexperienced one in the country, for a

day or two anyway, until others on the course followed me. Flight Engineer Licence Number 74.

My turn to shout in the back bar of the Rex. The following day I was a passenger home to Auckland in

a Company Lockheed Electra First Class seat.

26th August 1965. Auckland - Sydney. ZK-CLX. First flight on my own.

Bit of a non-event really.

Everything went smoothly. The

only thing that I do recall about

it was halfway up the climb out

of Auckland I said to Senior

Captain, Dave Eden "I suppose

the Company warned you that

this is my first flight on my own".

Without so much as a glance at

me he just shrugged his

shoulders and said "No", and

went on with what he was

doing. I relaxed from that

moment on as I had been

thinking everybody would be

watching the new boy closely.

ZK-CLX. The first aircraft for which I had total responsibility for the safe and efficient operation of its engines / propellers and all its components and systems, seen here at Essendon Melbourne July 1965.

37

Engines N°1 (outer) and N°2(inner). Photo above and the interior photos following are all ZK-CLX taken circa 1999 when it was registered as N1968R operated by Reeve Aleutian Airways Alaska. Included here as I have no other similar Electra photos taken during service with Air New Zealand. It is a shame but it seems very few people carried cameras in those early T.E.A.L days.

N1968R (ZK-CLX) cabin interior looking aft. The red section on the sidewall is above an over-wing exit. The life-rafts carried in case of a landing on water (ditching) were stowed in a ceiling bin between the overhead luggage bins adjacent to the over-wing exits. The stowage does not appear in this photo, apparently relocated by Reeve Aleutian Airways. Prior to a ditching the life-rafts were removed from the stowage and temporarily placed on the aisle floor secured to seat structure. Over-wing exits were removed before landing in case the fuselage body twisted on contact and jammed the exits in place. After alighting on the sea the exit doors were tossed out the opening followed by the life-raft onto the wing’s upper surface where the first crewmember out would secure the raft to a tie-down point, launch the raft and initiate inflation. I can’t recall an Electra anywhere in the world ditching in the sea but the gear was always there just in case. We did practice life-raft inflation / launching procedures annually in Auckland’s salt-water Parnell Baths (very chilly) and in later years in the warmer Tepid Baths. Bobbing about in the water in inflated life-jackets and boarding the rafts from the water then bailing etc. erecting the roof canopy and other related tasks.

38

N1968R (ZK-CLX) cabin interior looking aft. The First Class section in the Air New Zealand layout was curtained off at the rear of the aircraft beyond the toilet block divider shown part way down on the right. It was it the quietest area in the cabin. The large propellers near the front of the aircraft made a lot of noise. At the far end of the aisle is the meal preparation galley. Toilets are in the section jutting out behind the seats at the photos right side. One of the portable fire extinguishers (red) can be seen attached to the front of the toilet bulkhead and one of the portable therapeutic oxygen bottles will be below that. The rear main entry door is immediately behind the toilet block.

N1968R (ZK-CLX) cabin interior looking forward at the cockpit entry door. Note the bottom of the door is about 8 inches above the cabin floor level necessitating a small step up into the cockpit. The red sections on the sidewalls are above rear over-wing exits, four in total, two on each side at consecutive windows. The emergency exits are indicated by the illuminated Exit sign in the ceiling.

39

25th

September 1965. ZK-TEA. Captain Mick Taylor. F/O Bruce Chapman. Whenuapai - Wellington. My first lightning strike.

Cabin Compressor switches above the windows, highlighted in photo near Flight Engineer’s head.

I had only been checked out a month. The crew seating arrangement in the cockpit was, Captain on the

left, co-pilot on the right and in between the pilots and slightly to the rear sat the Flight Engineer, with

some Systems controls on a flat table like area, the 'pedestal' in front of him, engine instrumentation on

a vertical panel in front of that, with the remainder of the Systems controls on the overhead panel. We

three sat line-abreast facing forward. The Navigator occupied an area behind the Captain on the left

hand side of the cockpit with a work table and the necessary instrumentation for Navigation, though

ZK-TEA ‘Aotearoa’ at Whenuapai. The aircraft in which I experienced my first lightning strike

40

this day operating Airways to Wellington we did not have a navigator. The take-off from Whenuapai

was on runway 21 towards the south over the Trig Rd area. We entered the cloud base at about 1,200

feet. Part of the normal cockpit routine at 1,500 feet was to commence pressurising the aircraft. This

was initiated by the Flight Engineer reaching up to the overhead panel and placing two switches ON, to

start the two electrically operated Cabin Air Compressors. At 1,500 feet, in cloud, I reached up and hit

the two switches.

At precisely that instant, there was a huge bang in the nose of the aeroplane accompanied by a brilliant

flash of intense white light, and we were surrounded in the cockpit, by ionised trails of purple

shimmering light. It was just for an instant though, but boy did I get a fright.

I thought I had done it with those two switches, and somehow I had blown the nose off the aircraft. I glanced

at Mick Taylor the Captain who was crouched a little lower in his seat and he muttered “Lightning

strike", and on we flew. I glanced at Bruce Chapman the Co-pilot and he seemed a little greyer than

usual but he said nothing, and kept on doing co-piloty things. It took quite a while after that to quell the

trembling hands but I managed, and thought maybe this flying thing isn't such a fun thing after all. It

must have been a noteworthy kind of lightning strike, even for experienced pilots like Mick, because

even now in the year 2002, as he has done several times over the years, he reminds me with a chuckle

of that day.

In the following years I experienced many lightning strikes in different types of aircraft, but never

really got used to it. I was comforted over the years in the knowledge that no aircraft had ever been

brought down by a lightning strike. What I find even more amazing is that other people, like fellow

Flight Engineer Jack King, who flew in various types of T.E.A.L./Air New Zealand aircraft for nearly

forty years, said to me when he retired; “-- he had never in his entire flying career had a lightning strike,

or had to shut down an engine in flight”. Flight Engineer Nick Caulton nearing the end of his flying

career was hit by a lightning strike in a Boeing 747-219B over the Manukau Heads and said to me later

that was the first lightning strike he had ever had. I did all of those things a few times over in my

career. Life deals the cards differently to different people.

ZK-TEB. Lockheed Aircraft Company publicity photo. T.E.A.L. JET-PROP colour scheme 1959

41

18th

November 1965. Auckland - Nandi. ZK-TEB. Captain Rex Mangin. F/E Gary Sommerville.

My last Commercial flight from Whenuapai and the first International Airliner on revenue service to use Auckland’s new International Airport at Mangere.

This duty was a regular one to Nandi where we would de-plane and stay in Fiji for four days. The

Company only flew to Fiji twice a week. The aircraft with another crew, would then continue on to

Pago Pago in Samoa, spent about two hours there, and then operate Pago Pago - Nandi - Auckland.

During the four days we were laying over in Fiji, Auckland's new International Airport at Mangere was

preparing for its opening.

ZK-TEB ‘Atarau’ meaning Moonlight, preparing for departure from Nadi (pronounced - Nandi) Fiji.

The Company had purchased new Douglas DC-8 pure jet aircraft, the first of which had been delivered

four months earlier, and had been using the Mangere runways for crew training. Auckland’s

introduction to pure-jet operations and DC-8's on revenue service was to coincide with the opening of

the new Airport. The Company had also undergone a name change from Tasman Empire Airways

Limited to Air New Zealand.

It was a major event in the Company's history, and also in New Zealand aviation history, our arrival

into the new jet age of, high altitude, high speed, swept wing, pure jet transportation. The event was to

make maximum use of the media and much fanfare and flag waving was planned.

The first International Service to use Auckland's new Airport was to be Air New Zealand's inaugural

DC- 8 Auckland- Sydney service, timed to depart at 9:30 that morning.

In the meantime an Electra bound Fiji - Auckland had left quite a bit earlier than scheduled on its

planned 4 hr. 10 minute journey, had operated close to METO (Maximum Except Take Off) Power for most

of the journey, had favourable winds, and arrived over Auckland 45 MINUTES ahead of schedule!

How about that!!

42

It was a beautiful clear morning and as we turned over the beacon at Whitford and drove down the

Instrument Landing System (ILS) beam and over the Flat Bush beacon. There in front of us was this

almost pristine white strip of concrete stretching out westwards into the Manukau harbour.

At 08:45 we landed, the first International Airliner on revenue service to use Auckland's new Airport.

We were asked to taxi out of sight around the back of the terminal building, park and shut down the

engines. No one came near the aeroplane for nearly an hour, until the fanfare and flag waving had died

away and the DC-8 had soared majestically away into the western sky.

We were naughty boys and girls.

The evening front page newspaper items covered the big event and buried on page three it mentioned “------ and other aircraft movements during the day included an Air New Zealand Lockheed Electra from

Fiji."

Freddie Ladd from Tourist Air Travel stole a march on everybody though. At first light he took off

from his Auckland Harbour base at Mechanics Bay in his amphibious Grumman Widgeon carrying one

passenger, his wife, who he had charged a fare of one shilling, and landed at Mangere an hour or two

before us. He claimed, and rightly so, to have carried the first fare paying passenger into Auckland's

new Airport on opening day.

ZK-TEA on the apron in front of Air New Zealand’s new maintenance hangar at Mangere mid 1960’s

43

During the 1960’s T.E.A.L. / Air New Zealand crews were positioned up and down the country in New Zealand National Airways aircraft.

ZK-BRD ‘City of Wellington’ Vickers 807 Viscount loading passengers at Rongatai Wellington 1965. Note the dress requirement of the day. Casual clothing for airline flying was not the accepted standard in this era. The Viscount was the world’s first Turbo-Prop airliner. It carried 52 passengers at 365m.p.h.

F-27 Fokker Friendship ZK-NAA. Auckland Airport Mangere August 1977. Carried about 48 passengers.

44

Vickers Viscount 813 interior British Midlands August 1981

F-27-500 Air New Zealand interior August 1990

45

Electra Ferry Flights

During these times the National Airways Corporation (N.A.C.) and Air New Zealand Limited (A.N.Z.)

were two completely separate Government owned airlines. We were not allowed onto their turf and

they were not allowed onto ours so when we needed an aircraft to be positioned to or from either

Wellington or Christchurch it had to be flown without carrying passengers. Aircraft which for instance

had been undergoing checks at our Auckland maintenance base would slot back into the timetable by

restarting revenue flying in Christchurch or Wellington. Aircraft which finished an International cycle

of flights outside Auckland might be needed to recommence a new cycle from Auckland. So Ferry

flights were a fairly regular part of our flying life. These flights presented opportunities for us to

operate these great aircraft with only the three flight deck people on board The Captain, the First

Officer and the Flight Engineer. The Navigator wasn't required on these flights as we would fly the

Airway radio beams. He might at times come along to be part of tomorrow's crew on an International

sector, but would ride as the sole passenger on these Ferry flights. Occasionally though, N.A.C. for one

reason or another would charter our aircraft and crews to do internal flights. Usually during holiday

periods when they needed the extra capacity. We were not required to wear uniforms on those no-

passenger Ferry flights and we would all be fairly casually dressed.

Those days would provide us with an opportunity to fly the aircraft close to its operating limits and we

would do some fairly spectacular take-offs. The aircraft being very light without any passengers,

baggage or freight and a small fuel load, would enable a very short take-off distance and a very steep

rapid climb out. No, not being cowboys, but operating the aircraft within its design limits, within the

aircraft's capabilities but in a manner not suitable for the carriage of passengers. Remember in those

days we (Air New Zealand) didn't have Flight Simulators so an opportunity to try things like this was in the

long run beneficial to everyone. Who knew if and when a situation would arise in revenue flying where

flying to the limits would be required? Ferry flights were colossal waste of fuel and passenger - cargo

capacity within New Zealand airspace, which continued on into the DC-8 era until the Government

finally merged the two companies into one.

Ssssh, but on one ferry flight (21st September 1966 ZK-CLX) when we arrived over Wellington it was fog

bound so had to hold for an hour or so over Cook Strait. I was encouraged to occupy one of the pilot’s

seats and flew the aircraft around the holding pattern for a wee while.

ZK-TEA on final approach to runway 25 Mascot Sydney in the mid-1960s

46

25th June 1966. Captain Maynard Hawkins. ZK-NZB. Passenger Auckland to Nandi. My First flight in a DC-8

This was a crew positioning flight to Fiji. Here I was taking my first flight in a large pure jet aircraft.

Flying nearly three times faster than an Electra and at twice the height. The sky above took on a darker

hue with less light-absorbing atmosphere above us and the clouds that we would have been punching

through in an Electra were far below. It was quite thrilling as commercial pure jet travel was still in its

infancy world-wide. Here we were at 35,000 feet flying at the same height as the New Zealand Air

Force fighter aircraft, but able to cruise faster than them. This was a whole new realm of civil flying.

Icing would become a rare thing flying at these altitudes unlike Electra operations where cruise

altitudes would be right in the heart of the icing range. I can recall occasions in an Electra going

Auckland to Nandi in cloud, when before you could say 'knife' there would be a sudden build-up of ice,

two or three inches thick right across the windshield. Lumps would be flung off the propellers and thud

against the fuselage. Never-the-

less the prospect of changing

from low and slow, to high and

fast was a little daunting, and one

which I would be tackling in

about seven months’ time.

The total commercial pure jet

flying experience in Air New

Zealand (as distinct from the

Company’s ex-Air Force fighter Jocks) was limited to the few training

people who had been flying the

aeroplanes for the past eleven

months. Not a great wealth or

depth of knowledge to pass on to

the new boys.

Auckland-Wellington. 16th

July 1966. Captain Jack Priest. Electra ZK-TEB.

Bomb threat.

ZK-TEB at Auckland International Airport Mangere 1966 taxiing out for take-off.

ZK-NZB at Auckland International Airport air show 31st January 1966 held to celebrate the opening of the new airport.

47

This was a positioning flight, (no passengers), a ferry flight during the morning. About half way to

Wellington we get the disturbing news from Air Traffic Control that a phone call had been received at

the Wellington Control Tower saying "There is a bomb on an Electra".

Nothing specific, just 'A bomb on an Electra'. There were three Electra's in the area at the time. An Air

New Zealand and a Qantas Electra on the ground in Wellington, and us airborne. There is an

immediate gnawing in the pit of the stomach on receipt of this news and a sudden feeling of

inevitability, because if it is true, there is nothing you can do about it. I envied the other crews on the

ground who could simply walk (quickly I imagine) away to a safe place. We did take some actions

however and increased speed, asked for and received priority landing clearance. We requested an early

descent clearance and depressurised the aircraft early. The landing was uneventful apart from having

the Fire Engines follow us, and we were cleared to taxi and park on an area away from buildings and

other aircraft. We shutdown using the checklists and (quickly) walked away from our charge, leaving the

next phase to the ground experts.

There are clear procedures laid down for checking and searching aeroplanes for suspect items by

ground personnel so you can imagine my unease when an overtaxed Station Engineer (Jim McCrea, later

C.E.O. of Air New Zealand) approached me and said " As the Flight Engineer, would you take this Bomb Search

checklist and conduct the search of your aeroplane as I am fully occupied with the other two". I was not

happy with the request but did it anyway. Nothing was found on any aircraft. It was a hoax call. What I

learnt from that was if a person had really placed an explosive device on an aircraft and seriously

intended to destroy an aeroplane and its contents, then the last thing he was going to do was tell the

authorities about it before the event. This was proven in subsequent years when aeroplanes in other

parts of the world were blown out of the sky, and the first anyone knew about it was the big bang.

In the following months there were other hoax calls received by the Wellington Tower and gradually

the authorities closed in on the perpetrator. They finally arrested a member of the Airport's Crash Fire

staff, a bored fireman with a warped mind who got fun out of causing disruption and distress to others

and then got the chance to run around in his big red fire engine and looking important.

Flight Engineer conducting engine starts.

48

26th February 1967. ZK-TEB. Captain Bill Mackley. Auckland-Melbourne-Auckland.

Last Electra duty.

I had started my Electra Type Rating course on the 11th

January 1965 and here I was a little over two

years later completing my last Electra duty before starting a DC-8 Type Rating course. This duty was

in the same aeroplane in which I did my first flight under training on 4th

April 1965.

During my time on Electras I accumulated 946 hours: 58 minutes of operational flying, 71 hours: 23

minutes of passenger flying, 80 hours of Flight Simulator time, covered 345,730 statute miles (558,008 kilometres).

ZK-TEB the aircraft in which I had my first flight under training and my last flight as a crew member on the Electra fleet seen here taxiing for take-off at Eagle Farm Brisbane in the 1960’s

Before I leave the Electra I would like to record some other memories.

For instance the Captain on my last Electra flight was Bill Mackley a World War 2 Whitley Bomber

and Catalina flying boat pilot. Bill was awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross (D.F.C.) while operating

Whitleys over Germany and bar to his D.F.C. (Two D.F.C.'s) while flying Catalinas during the Pacific

war. He rescued a downed American Liberator bomber crew in the open ocean, then taking off

overloaded in rough seas with 17 people on board and suffering damage to the aircraft in the process.

There were a lot of World War Two veterans flying with the Company when I started.

Another was Ross McHardy who won a D.F.C. in the Pacific also for the daring rescue of a downed

American crew south of Guadalcanal. Ross made an open sea landing in a Catalina in atrocious

conditions which the American counterparts considered too risky to attempt.

A famous episode involving the crew of a Wellington bomber during a bombing raid over Germany

resulted in 22 year old New Zealand pilot J.A. Ward receiving the Victoria Cross (VC) for climbing out

onto the fabric covered wing to extinguish a fire, after being attacked by a German Messerschmitt 110.

The Messerschmitt was shot down by the tail gunner. Ward was attached to a rope which was attached

at the other end to Navigator, Joe Lawton. Joe ensured his brave fellow crewmember got safely back

into the aeroplane. Joe was one of our senior Navigators on the Electra and the DC-8 and remained in

the Company's Navigation section long after Navigators were replaced on the aeroplane by black

boxes. It was my privilege to know him and work alongside him.

49

Jack Shorthouse when aged 19, was one of the 17 young pilots in the first group of New Zealand pilots

to sail for England in December 1939. Jack finished the war as Wing Commander JS Shorthouse DFC,

and flew Fairey Battles early in the war and was shot down over Belgium. He then went on to fly Photo

Reconnaissance Spitfires, and Lancaster Bombers over Germany where he earned his DFC. To survive

the whole of the war years in Bomber Command was a remarkable feat when RAF Bomber Command

lost 55,000 young men. Note during the same period the United States bomber group lost the same

number of young men over Europe.

Doug Keesing flew Hudsons and the Le Couteur brothers were Transport Squadron pilots on C-47s

(Dakotas). Cliff Le Couteur served with the R.A.F. in the United Kingdom and the Mediterranean and

was awarded the D.F.C.

Geoff Highet DFC, AFC and Bar flew P-40 Kitty Hawks and Corsairs against the Japanese in the

Solomons, and was credited with shooting down four and a half Zeke fighters (derivative of the famous Zero),

two of them in one day. A half meant it was shared with another pilot.

Nevill (Nobby) Clarke was a ferry pilot with R.A. F. Ferry Command and was awarded the A.F.C (Air

Force Cross). Other senior pilots had started with T.E.A.L. in the early days of Flying Boats and DC-6s.

This was also a period of rapid expansion in Air New Zealand, and we also had some very young

Captains drawn from Air Force ranks and Aero Clubs and of course N.A.C. The youngest captain I can

recall aged 28, was Tony Lawson, ex Vampire and Canberra Bomber pilot and ex Fielding Rugby

Football Club player, who played in the same Fielding senior team as me when we were based at

Ohakea. In fact there were times when the whole flight crew on an aeroplane were under 30. Our

group of Flight Engineers arrived on the scene at just the right time. The engineer’s role in the

operation of the aircraft was becoming more important and integrated with the pilots, and more

complex as aircraft became more complex. We arrived at a time where the basic cockpit crew was

made up of the minimum of Captain, Co-pilot and Flight Engineer. An aircraft could not start engines,

fly anywhere, or do any procedures without all three basic crew members being involved in co-

ordinated actions. Flight Engineers previously were required after the pilots had departed for the hotel,

to remain and do any engine maintenance that may be required. There was no such thing as flight time

or duty time limitations. Flight Engineers were required by law to spend three months of each year

back in the hangar working as ground engineers and being paid at ground engineer rates. It all changed

in the months before we were hired, and we became fully integrated members of the cockpit crews,

governed by the same rules and regulations and union negotiated privileges as the pilots, though at a

slightly lower pay rate.

Sydney airport at this time hadn't built runway 16 - 34, the north-south runway that juts out into Botany

Bay, and just had the single short east- west runway 25 - 07. The airport was not known by its present

name, Kingsford Smith, but by its former name 'Mascot' the Sydney suburb where it is located.

Melbourne's International Airport was at Essendon, and it was to be a few years before the newer

airport was built further out west at Tullamarine. Brisbane airport was known as 'Eagle Farm', not far

from where the present one now stands. Christchurch International was then known as 'Harewood'.

I recall a Ferry flight to Wellington from Auckland on which Ron Spencer

(from my original Electra Type Rating course) was the Flight Engineer. As usual the aircraft was empty except

for the three Flight Deck crew, but with the addition of the Chief Pilot Captain Doug Keesing, who was

a passenger in the Navigator's seat. Doug was a man with a very stern, gruff manner and commanded a

lot of respect from everyone. In fact we were all a little afraid of his temper.

Harking back to the period of Flight Simulator training we did in Sydney, one procedure which was

practised over and over again was the 'Emergency Descent', which would be carried out in the event of

a Loss of Cabin Pressure. There were other reasons for wanting to get an aeroplane down in a hurry, for

example if there were smoke or fumes in the aircraft. Part of the 'Smoke and Fumes' procedure was to

first turn off the two electrically operated Cabin Compressors as they had proven in the past (by other

overseas operators), to be the most likely cause of Electrical Smoke or Fumes. Without Cabin

Compressors the aircraft would automatically close its air out-flow valves and slowly decompress, if it

had no holes in the hull, so a precautionary (slow) Emergency Descent would have to be carried out.

50

In the Simulator to save time and duplication of the Emergency

Descent procedure and I guess money, these two procedures

Electrical Smoke or Fumes in the aircraft plus Emergency

Descent were always carried out together. Most Emergency

Procedures have 2 or 3 Recall actions which are instantly

performed without reference to the checklist. Therefore carrying

out an Emergency Descent in the Simulator had always been

trained the same way. First initiate Electrical Smoke or Fumes in

the cockpit which had the initial checklist Recall action: turn off the Cabin Compressors. Next initiate an Emergency Descent

and carry out both the ‘Smoke and Fumes’ and the ‘Emergency

Descent’ checklist procedures in conjunction.

So here was Ron on this Ferry flight carefully and meticulously doing his thing, with the Chief Pilot

sitting and watching everything from his place at the rear of the three operating crew.

Bang – Hiss – Roar - pain in the ear drums, as a cargo door rubber seal blows out, and a real Loss of

Cabin Pressure occurs. First Recall action by carried out by Ron. 'Turn off the Cabin Compressors'.

Wrong! With a real loss of cabin pressure and a 'hole' in the aeroplane, the last thing you want to do is

turn off the only supply of pressurised air coming into the aircraft. Everyone dons their Oxygen masks

as part of the Emergency Descent Recall actions and a rapid descent is made to 10,000 feet and

eventually all turns out well.

Well Ron of course is mortified, particularly with Old Man Gruff sitting behind him, but that's the way

it was trained and the action was purely reflex. Doug was strangely silent but managed a chuckle after,

much to the relief of the apprehensive crew. With hindsight the lesson learned from this incident was

the folly of trying to cram too much into a training detail to save time and money, when in reality they

may have lost an aeroplane and contents.

The Allison engine and propeller combination on the Electra were quite unique.

They operated at two constant, selectable RPM levels.

LOW for ground use and, HIGH for Take-Off and In-flight.

With the engine always operating at the same

selected revolutions, the engine sound level never

altered. Forward speed of the aircraft then

depended on propeller blade angle. As the blade

angle was coarsened to bite deeper in to the air, the

engine would naturally want to slow down, so

more fuel was automatically added to keep the

revolutions constant. So throttle movement altered

propeller blade angle to increase or decrease speed,

and fuel was added or subtracted to keep the

revolutions constant.

To further reduce airframe vibration and harmonic

noise an electronic system was installed so the four

propellers rotated exactly in unison. The object

was to get the Number One blade on each propeller, to arrive at top-dead-centre at exactly the same

time (Phase Synchronisation). At any time after take-off the Flight Engineer could select the system ON and

the system would accelerate or decelerate each engine to match the propeller blade phasing, until all

were in unison. During the phasing process the rising and falling sound of the propellers hunting to

align could be heard. The further they were out of synchronisation at the time of rotating the Phase

Synch switch (rotary switch in the highlighted area of picture above) the louder the propeller noise rising and

falling with accompanying airframe vibration. It became a matter of skill and pride amongst Flight

Engineers with good hearing and anticipation to judge when the four propellers were naturally almost

at top dead centre then rotate the Phase Synch switch at precisely the right moment to prevent any

hunting. We quickly became very adept at this.

The white teeter-totter selector switch highlighted in the picture below changed RPM Low to High.

Ron in retirement May 2008 aboard his Taupo based trout fishing launch the ‘Waimarie’ which he operated for hire. Still found a good use for his Air NZ flight crew uniform shirts.

51

This aircraft has landed and not yet switched to Ground Idle so the propellers are still phase synched.

One amusing incident occurred on a flight amusing now

but at the time had all the makings of a tragic mistake. It concerned a well-known older Cabin Crew

member by the name of 'Granny' Matthews. He phoned me on the Flight Deck this day to say that the

meal service was being hampered because one of the galley ovens was not operating. I informed him

that I was busy at the time but would be down the back as soon as possible. Shortly the phone goes

again "Could you hurry up please". I asked him to be patient. Phone goes again. "I've found the

problem" he said. “That little black thing (the circuit breaker) has popped out and every time I push it back

in it pops out again". "Leave it out, and I'll be down straight away" I replied. I had just unstrapped

myself and reached the cockpit door, and the inter-phone chimes again. "Don't worry" said a cheerful

'Granny', "I've fixed it and everything's working fine now". "What did you do to fix it" I said. "Oh I just got

a sticking plaster out of the first aid kit and put it over the black thing to keep it in". "Whoa" I shouted

"Take it off immediately before you start a fire" and took off at a great pace to the rear. 'Granny' was a

little petulant and couldn't quite see what all the fuss was about.

We had a keen young co-pilot

whose name escapes me now, who just had to be involved in everything. Unfortunately his flying skills

didn't match his enthusiasm. Just in one flight which I was on with Bill Hoffman as the Captain, this

fellow managed to do the following. We were departing Sydney and he asked me if he could

accompany me on the exterior walk-around check. That was okay and just showed me that he was

keen. Once back on the flight deck he asked if he could start the engines. Bill nodded his approval so

off he went and managed to over-temperature one engine which had to be shutdown, cleared and

restarted. Next he asked if he could do the take-off, to which Bill agrees. That seemed to go without

incident, and early in the climb he mentions that the

rate of climb was very poor. Bill, a very good and

patient pilot, casually pointed out that if he were to

retract the flaps then the aircraft's performance

would improve. This was duly done with the desired

result. In the meantime the Navigator has pushed his

chair around and had poked the sextant out the

ceiling to take his first sun shot. With great

excitement the co-pilot asked if he could take the sun

shot. I think the Navigator was somewhat reluctant,

but encouraged by Bill who really wanted to take

back control of the aircraft, finally agreed with the

request. After pushing past me and climbing up on

the Navigators chair he proceeded to take the sun Captain Bill Hoffman

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shot. When he figured that the job was done, he pulled the sextant down out of the roof. What he

forgot to do was close the pressurisation seal before he withdrew the sextant. The hiss and the roar

caused Bill and I took look around, and there was this fellow rooted to the spot, with his tie pulled

rigidly straight up in front of his face, with the flapping end disappearing out the hole in the roof. "Oh

#*@!" said the Navigator as he reached up and pulled down the tie and closed the seal. A few months

later after other similar occurrences, the young man was encouraged to leave the Company.

Circuit flying training details were regularly conducted at Whenuapai which involved

many circuits, landings, and periods taxiing back to

the take-off point. The flying controls were

hydraulically operated and fluid under pressure was

supplied by two hydraulic pumps, the on-off

switches for which were positioned on the pedestal

in front of the Engineer. With the constant exercising

of the hydraulic systems with numerous landing gear

extensions and retractions, and the demands of the

flying control surfaces, the hydraulic pumps tended

to overheat. To alleviate this, on each taxi back to

the take-off point, one hydraulic pump was switched off and rested and allowed to cool down. Both

pumps were reinstated before take-off and the rested pump was alternated after each landing. The story

goes that on one training flight with Jack Priest as the pilot being checked and with Training Engineer

Bill Melville as the operating Flight Engineer, the following incident occurred.

After several taxi backs, Bill it seems got a bit out of phase and instead of reinstating the resting

hydraulic pump, turned the operating one off as well. The take-off to the south was achieved. After

take-off the right outboard (N°4) engine throttle was quickly retarded by the Training Captain,

simulating an engine failure. The initial action by the pilot flying is to keep the aircraft’s flight path

straight by booting in lots of rudder. This was done by Jack, and without hydraulic power, nothing

happened, and the aircraft veered off to the right heading straight for the hangars. Realising that

something was amiss the throttle of the retarded engine was rapidly advanced. Too rapidly, and the

Auto-Feather feature built into the system to prevent a propeller runaway, did what it was designed to

do and automatically feathered the propeller and shut the engine down. Now with a real engine failure

and no hydraulic pressure the aircraft crabbed sideways and according to a ground based observer,

cleared the hangar roof ---- just cleared the hangar roof, by next to nothing. A change to the circuit

flying checklist was duly made.

Bill Melville

was a bit of a character as well as hell of a nice guy and despite the above mentioned episode, a very

competent Flight Engineer. The story did the rounds that during a stopover in the Manhattan Hotel in

Sydney where we had a Crew Room with access to the roof patio, Bill and his mates got up to a bit of

mischief. The end result of the tomfoolery was a toilet roll being tossed in streamer like fashion off the

roof of the Manhattan Hotel, falling to the street below. Yep! It hit someone on the head. Not just

anyone of the city's 3 million inhabitants, but Air New Zealand's assistant manager in Sydney, a fellow

known for his dislike of aircrew and their perceived privileges. As one can imagine, a complaint was

registered.

Even further back, either in the very early days of the Electra operation or maybe even in the DC-6 era,

it is said that one of our crews including Bill had arrived in Sydney fairly early in the day, after a long

night duty, and were having a couple of whiskeys before retiring. One of them heard the clip clop of

the milkman's horse in the darkened street below and thought a drop of fresh milk for later in the day

wouldn't go amiss. So down to the street he went, purchased the milk and invited the old milkman up

for a quick Scotch. The old fellow readily agreed and then stayed longer than intended. Not wanting to

miss an opportunity, Bill with some help went down to the street and unhitched the horse. When the

happy milko descended to the street sometime later to discover an abandoned milk cart, his attention

was drawn upwards by a plaintive neighing in the heavens. There silhouetted by the first rays of the

dawn, was the head and neck of his horse looking at him over the parapet of the hotel roof. I

Hydraulic pump switches in front of Flight Engineer.

53

understand it took the hotel staff some time and difficulty to coax the horse back into the lift --- but

none of this activity disturbed the slumber of some tired airmen.

What can I say about operating in and out of Wellington?

The Company's resident Station Engineer at the time was Jim McCrea who later rose to become the

Airlines boss, the Chief Executive Officer, a post he held for quite a number of years before retiring in

1999. I can recall times in Wellington when doing the walk-around check on a cold winter's morning,

my whole body would be so cold, my hands were numb, and my chin and cheeks were so numb that

my speech was slurred. One morning in particular my hands were so cold that I couldn't operate the

Engine Start Switches and Jack Griffiths the co-pilot, had to do the engine starts for me. The Electra

was a good aircraft to handle Wellington's notoriously windy weather conditions. We would get an

instant reaction to engine throttle movement, unlike pure jet engines that take time to spool up and

deliver the required power.

The pace of life in the Electra era

was a lot slower and pleasant, for example the time we were taxiing toward the runway at Mascot

Sydney and mother duck waddles up the slope from Botany Bay and across the taxiway in front of us

followed in line-astern by six little ducklings hurrying to keep up with her. The multi-million dollar

high tech machine with its great whirling propellers comes to a gradual halt to allow the free unhurried

passage of the little group. Steam giving way to sail as it were. We didn't travel long distances, never

flew above 21,000 feet, and always stopped in exciting locations for up to three or four days at a time.

The whole crew Flight Deck and Cabin Crew could fit into one taxi to and from the airport, everyone

knew everyone. We nearly always got the same taxi and driver in Wellington. A large black Cadillac

Limo with sliding glass partition between us and the jovial chauffeur.

In Christchurch we were accommodated in Warner's Hotel in the Square. This was Christchurch's top

five star hotel, where the wearing of suits was the required attire, and we all carried a suit in our

luggage. No such thing as room service and we were required to dress for dinner. In the lounge after

dinner, coffee was served in incredibly small cups. The maid after a discrete knock on the door let

herself in to your room at 7 a.m. every morning with a cup of tea and a sweet biscuit. All very pukka

and very English. No passenger in that era would show up for a flight without being properly attired.

The men in suits and hats. The women in suits, hats, gloves, handbags, and when warranted, fur stoles.

We were I guess a unique if not elite group of people. Just 37 Captains, a similar number of co-pilots,

30 Navigators, 37 Flight Engineers, 37 Air Hostesses and perhaps 100 Stewards, to operate the

company’s fleet of three aircraft and all T.E.A.L.’s International services. This equated to 10 operating

crews per aircraft, plus extras to allow for annual leave, sickness, and the myriad of annual refresher

courses Civil Aviation Law required us to do. Each crew comprised of four cockpit crew and four

cabin crew. Air Hostesses in this era were only employed for four years maximum from age 23 to 27.

Had to come from a good family background, had to be well educated, have all the bumps and lumps in

the right places and in the right proportions, had to be single, and any hint of marriage would cause

employment to be promptly terminated. Equal rights and equal pay for women was still some years

down the track so this was a much sort after position involving good wages and overseas travel, and

was keenly contested.

And then there was Pearl, T.E.A.L.’s only

Asian Hostess. Quite a rarity in those days

when the Asian population was nowhere

near what it is today. As there was only one

Hostess on each service, she was responsible

for the Public Address announcements in the

cabin, including the pre-landing spiel which

included, “Ladies and Gentlemen. After

landing you will hear an increase in engine

noise which is caused by the reversible pitch

propellers which are used to slow the

Nandi (Nadi) Airport Fiji. The accepted dress code for 1960’s passenger was very formal.

54

aeroplane down. We hope you have enjoyed your flight with us today. Thank you.”

Well as we know Asians have a tendency for word economy and transposing L’s for R’s, and R’s for

L’s, so ‘reversible pitch propellers’ was always going to be a challenge for Pearl. Perhaps we were a bit

mean on those days when Pearl was on our crew as we would turn up the cockpit speakers so we could

hear Pearl’s PA which would come out something like this -- after introducing herself as Purrh.

“Ray dee an Gen turr min. Ar far ran ding you wirr hee incleese in eh gin noy. This cause by lee versa brrrh

pish plo perra, use to ssroh air prey dow. Hope you enjoy your fright. San kew”.

All confidently delivered with perfect poise and aplomb.

Weather Forecasting

I recall as a teenager in the early 1950’s being amazed to read in the ‘Auckland Star’ newspaper that an

attempt would be made to forecast the weather on a daily basis and this information would be printed

in the daily paper. Wow! being able to know what the weather was going to be later in the week,

especially the weekend when sport and other eagerly awaited activities would take place, then more

often than not disappointment would follow as wind and rain swept the local area.

A scientific department would be set up by the government to commence this work which all sounded

like it was of fairyland origin. What? Foretell the weather. How could this be done without a magic

wand. Weather forecasting is of vital importance to Aviation so initially around 1939 weather

forecasting was entrusted to the Royal New Zealand Air Force which itself was only two years old .

Very rudimentary at best. The first serious effort to forecast weather scientifically was begun in the

1950’s by the government as announced by the ‘Auckland Star’.

When I arrived on the Electra fleet in 1965 significant advances had been made in the art of weather

forecasting and we played our part in the gathering of data for the Met Service. It was always known

that most of New Zealand’s weather approaches from over the Tasman Sea therefore on all

International flights to and from New Zealand the cockpit crew were required to fill out a weather

report form on each sector. In the Electra years, T.E.A.L. only flew the Tasman and a South Pacific

sector to Fiji and sometimes on to Samoa. The form was of A4 size in landscape orientation placed on

a clipboard. The page had vertical lines marking longitudes between departure and arrival airports and

two types of horizontal lines across the page denoting altitudes in thousands of feet and latitudes. Either

of the pilots and sometimes the Flight Engineer would draw on the page observed cloud types,

quantities of cloud, and estimated height of the cloud tops at the longitude line and corresponding

latitude point at which the cloud occurred. Also recorded was the outside air temperature, and from the

altimeter the atmospheric pressure in millibars. The Latitude/Longitude information, wind speed and

direction, were provided by the Navigator from information derived from his sextant shots and drift

sight. Thus a pictorial presentation of Tasman weather was made on each sector and passed to the

Metrological people on arrival at destination on both sides of the Tasman. This information was then

telephoned or telegraphed to the Met Service.

Ted Tompkins, ex R.N.Z.A.F pilot, Electra First Officer and later Captain, became known by fellow

crew members and particularly the Met people for the artistic talent shown in his Met reports. Ted was

the only pilot to fill out his form in colour using coloured pencils and proper cauliflower shapes to

depict cloud formations. Ted’s art works were known to adorn Met office walls on both sides of the

Tasman as examples for others to follow.

In the 1960’s there were no earth orbiting satellites relaying real- time images, pressure-temperature

information and a myriad of other parameters directly to computer screens (also yet to be invented) of

interested parties. Other drawbacks of our method of information gathering were the inability to gauge

cloud height if the aircraft was completely engulfed in cloud for extensive periods as we were on the

Electra fleet (always in the weather, routinely cruising at 20,000-21,000 feet, the maximum cruise height for us being 25,000

feet), or at night. In the jet era to follow we were mostly cruising above all but the towering cumulus

clouds. It became apparent and was a source of some amusement in years to come as newer aircraft

became available that our estimated cloud top heights were woefully inaccurate. Tasman cloud tops

which towered way above Electra cruise heights were routinely reported as being in the thirty

thousands of feet. When the jet aircraft came along cruising in the thirty thousands of feet those same

55

cloud tops were reported by the crews as being in the 40,000 to 50,000 feet range. When earth orbiting

satellites came on line with their precise measuring capabilities the real high altitude cloud heights

were given as 60,000-70,000 feet plus, more than twice our guesstimates in the Electra years. Out over

the ocean there are no recognizable reference points of known height or distance to compare the

surrounding environment with so everything noted down was a guesstimate at best. The numbers of

aircraft plying the Tasman in the 1960’s were very few in any given 24 hour period so the volume of

gathered information was small. To sight another aircraft en-route over the Tasman in the Electra years

was a rarity.

The Blue Ball effect.

Another one-off occasion concerning the weather occurred during my sojourn on the Electra fleet. I

experienced this phenomenon just this once, and then only briefly and never saw it repeated again in

the remainder of my 38 years with T.E.A.L./Air New Zealand. We were at cruise altitude of 21,000

feet over the Tasman Sea heading for Australia in the middle of a high pressure system. Absolutely

smooth flying conditions, not a cloud in the sky and a flat calm sea which is very unusual for the

Tasman. The sun was at a particular angle to our progress which made the sky and sea precisely the

same colour blending sea and sky into one, completely eliminating the horizon, the demarcation

between the earth and sky.

It was an eerie sensation; we were seemingly completely stationary with no sense of forward motion at

all, just the hum of the propellers and of being suspended motionless in a giant sky blue ball of

consistent hue, a perfect orb without blemish of cloud wisp, sea sparkle, reflection or wave top spume.

There was no visual sense of moving up or down, being wings level or even upside down. Fortunately

the Auto-pilot knew and the crew knew by reference to the flying instruments as happens at night or in

cloud.

At the heights the Electra flew, line of sight to the horizon was probably in the order of 150 nautical

miles so the curve of the horizon was not significant, nor was the colour differentiation between sea

and sky as marked as it is at pure jet aircraft altitudes where the sky above gets darker as the

atmosphere gets thinner producing less blue light scatter. Line of sight to the horizon at jet aircraft

altitudes is in excess of 300 nautical miles (555 kilometers), giving a distinctive curve to the horizon

and this combined with the darker coloured sky at jet altitudes plus a wider field of view to include

items of visual reference would probably preclude the same ‘blue ball’ phenomenon from being

experienced.

It was such a wondrous brief period in time when climatic conditions, time of day, time of year, sun

angle and position, aircraft heading and height all combined to produce one of nature’s joys reserved

for a fortunate few, a counter-balance for the odd times nature made flying for a living quite

uncomfortable. The experience has remained in my memory for years and will do for all of my time.

Essendon Airport Melbourne in 2002 long after it was downgraded to a domestic airport having been replaced by the new International Airport at Tullarmarine. Still essentially the same layout as in the Electra era.

56

“---- and as the sun sets slowly in the west so ends my days on the Electra fleet”.

57

Air New Zealand’s last Turbo-prop Electra ZK-TED takes off from Auckland International Airport Mangere as Air New Zealand’s first pure jet, DC-8 ZK-NZA prepares for flight.

So these were my early days of flying as a career. What waited was a whole new concept in Commercial Aviation, the pure jet era.