sweetbasil said:
I want to hear some good stories! Hope that you had a great time and a fun flying experience...
Oh--ok--not the right guy, but i'll tell ya a story anyhow. It was the winter of 68-69, about half way thru my tropical senior trip. The fun loving group i was with --82nd abn--had previously been doing a lot of camping out up north. Now we were guarding the perimeter of the busiest airport in the whirld--TonSonNhut, adjoining saigon, while awaiting powers-that-be's exalted decision on what scenic and friendly location we would enjoy the most next.
I had a job that gave me a certain amount of unaccountability and decided i should take a day or two and go see my cousin Joe, with the Big Red One--1st infantry--in the Iron Triangle.
Found out where to catch a plane and got on. This bird had 2 props, twin tails, an endgate that dropped down to load cargo or drop stuff (and people)out of. Think it was a c-119.
They got them little rollers in center of floor, that you can shove stuff around on easy. No seats--kinda a pipe rack with weaving kinda like a lawn chair, fold up when you're just hauling stuff.
Me, some hung over g.i.'s, some frieght, several vietnamese, assorted produce and farm animals are loaded up.
We are not pressurized, airtight, sound proofed--it's a no frills deal.
So--fire up right engine.
Crank on left engine for a while--smokes, backfires, rattles--give up on that, shut the other one off.
So--guy comes outa the cockpit, packing a ball peen hammer. Opens a door and walks out on the wing, unspaps some dealies and gives 'er a judicious whack or two. Looks towards cockpit and mouths "try that"-- it fires, he buttons it up, comes back in---pilot starts it for real and then the other one.
Away we go--my engine smokes for awhile, then kinda settles down. These things got kinda a thrumming vibration that travels from one end to the other. Loud, drafty, but gi's go to sleep, animals behave, locals chew a little beetlenut and palaver amongst themselves.
After a while, guy wakes up looks out says 'we're almost there' indicates a tiny cleared patch, surrounded by jungle, bush. It's a long ways down. Now i learn the procedure for landing in hostile neighborhood. What you do is throttle way back. then you just go ahead and tip it on it's side--my side, by the way--and let this sucker fall for a while--say about half a mile--then you level off and plunk 'er right down. The landing strip was brush that had been dozed off, then 'paved' with them sheets of steel that hook togethor with kinda tabs on one side and slots on the other--maybe 2x10 feet pieces, pretty stout. Field was evidently levelled with 'occular assesment' and about like hitting giant carboard corrugations. We kinda bounce and zigzag our way to a halt and I go find Joe.
ps. Them airforce guys kinda lived like sissies on big bases like TSN--but sure was top shelf service in the field.