History Rhymes Again

Image courtesy Reuters

During my short stay in hospital, gentle reader, I did a little reading. 

One of the books I read quickly (easily achieved in a hospital when you are waited on, and aren't interrupted by routine necessary chores) was Mosquito by Rowland White.

I was interested in it because I have an obsession with military aircraft, and find the topic interesting because of personal experience in a variety of these machines in my short and unspectacular military career.

It's an engaging narrative, but more because of its behind-the scenes portrayal of the Danish resistance in World War Two than technical aspects of the aircraft.

De Havilland Mosquitos were used in a spectacular raid on the Shellhaus Gestapo Headquarters in Copenhagen and dropped supplies and personnel to resistance groups. 

They also routinely transported ball bearings from Sweden to the UK to maintain the supply of these much needed components during the height of British aircraft construction during the early stages of the conflict.

But what I hadn't expected to find in this monograph was a the simultaneous contextual outline of the Nazi occupation of Denmark, which was portrayed by the Third Reich's propaganda as an exercise in peaceful cooperation between the Danish authorities and the Nazis.

It wasn't, of course, and when the Danish resistance, supported by the allies, began to have an effect the Nazis retaliated.

This retaliation consisted of rounding up about five hundred Jewish members of the Danish community and transporting them to the Theresienstadt ghetto in Czechoslovakia. 

It could have been a lot worse. Many Danes, with the help of the resistance organised a massive rescue effort. The used boats to ferry Jews across the Oresund strait to Sweden, in an operation coordinated by the resistance, and involving ordinary citizens and some brave members of the Danish police and government. Over seven thousand were saved.

Images of people being herded into railway wagons in August 1943 put me in mind of a similar phenomenon taking place right now in the USA, a country once considered a bastion of democracy. 

The people targeted for deportation into South American Gulags in El Salvador aren't Jews. They're allegedly gang members.  The process is however eerily similar, separated as it is by over eighty years and taking place in different continents..

Again, history rhymes.... 

 

Jetstar

Pic courtesy Jetstar

I thought I had retired, gentle reader, but now I’m working for Jetstar.

I haven’t flown with them for a while, and the last time I did they were full of surprises.

That hasn’t changed.

Last time I was ignorant of their baggage policies, and I received an expensive surprise when I had to shell out for carry on baggage which I’d wrongly assumed was covered in my fare.

This time, the issue was timing. When you book a flight, There’s a golden window within which you have to tag your bags, weigh them, and go through security.

Because of an accident on the Warrego highway, my bus got me to Brisbane domestic five minutes past the closure of this golden window. The first I knew of this was when the infernal robots refused to accept my already printed boarding pass. 

The robot told me to find a Jetstar staff member, which was a task in itself. The orange garbed people I found must be trained in avoiding eye contact.

Eventually I found a polite young man who seemed to know about as much as I did. He sent me off to the Jetstar help desk. My problems were beyond his pay scale.

I had to pay an extra $85 to be booked on a later flight, even though the one I was originally booked on was sitting on the tarmac, and wasn’t going to depart for at least another forty minutes.

I got in line with my newly minted boarding pass issued by a gentleman, who was polite, but with an accent so thick that it defeated my damaged hearing.

I mimed my way through.

And whilst I was waiting for the later flight (three hours I won’t get back again) I realised that I was now working for Jetstar.

I had printed my own boarding pass, tagged and weighed my baggage, and done all of this without training and supervision. It is the perfect industrial model, and beats paying for staff to complete those messy procedures.

Instead of being paid for these tasks, I had been billed the above mentioned $85 administration fee.

I guess I could regard that as union membership.

Sent from Outlook for iOS

Short Finals at Cunnamulla

I was going through some archived video the other day, and came across this.

It was a video grab (via iPhone) of a landing we made at Cunnamulla in 2017, when I was working permanent part time as an Advisory Visiting teacher.

The chartered flight (Beechcraft Super King Air) flew Roma - Cunnamulla on Thursdays with the flying surgeon and his offsider anaesthetist. As far as I know, he never performed surgery on these occasions. Rather, he was assessing and preparing patients for procedures carried out in Roma.

To be honest, I never had any idea what he was doing during the day. Upon arrival, I would be dropped off at the school, and the medical (QHealth) people at the hospital. We'd be collected by a government vehicle at the end of the day and driven to the airport. Boarding the aircraft after it had been locked up and sat in the sun all day, particularly in the summer, wasn't much fun, although once the engines were started it cooled down quickly. 

Hitching a ride on these regular charters was a very efficient use of taxpayer resources. The aircraft was a nine-seater, there was plenty of room, and a whole day wasted on travel by car was avoided.

Nevertheless, permission to do it was withdrawn shortly at head office level, overriding the very sensible local decision to allow it. I never was told exactly why. It's possible that it had something to do with cost and/or insurance.

In any case, I always enjoyed the flights, and usually sat in the cockpit where I could see what was going on. The airstrip at Cunnamulla was originally built for US bombers (B-17s) stationed there in World War Two. One of the US personnel involved was a certain Lt Commander Lyndon B Johnson on leave from the US Congress. Apparently he had advised that  Cunnamulla was inland far enough to be out of range of Japanese attacks.

That history explains the length of the strip at Cunnamulla at 1733 metres. It would still be marginal for modern airliners. A 737 needs 2133 metres.  

 

The Best and Worst of the Era.

 This is one of the most evocative music videos of the era.
The extraordinary music of The Doors and the juxtaposition of the video grabs works extremely well.

 Lest we forget.....

Playing God

The targeted assassination of Qasem Soleimani is only the latest in a long line of ex-judicial killings carried out by the USA, Israel, and many other countries. The fact that it was drone facilitated is also nothing new.

Wikipedia reveals the Israelis as the most prolific users of targeted killings, listing 29 since 1972, but they're certainly not the only state using the strategy.

The most well-known of the Israeli attacks is Operation Wrath of God, avenging the Munich Olympic terrorist atrocity, although the Israeli catalogue includes targeting a wide range of individuals across a number of countries, including Malta, Jordan, Lebanon, Tunisia, and Malaysia.

The Israelis have used a wide variety of methods, ranging from airstrikes, Apache helicopter-launched missiles, electrocution and shootings. Collateral damage, on the shape of civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time, is also not unusual.

These assassinations as carried out by Mossad have become almost commonplace.

Next in line in terms of the frequency of these killings is the USA.

The War on Terror was used by both the Bush and Obama Administrations to justify targeted killings, and the Trump Administration has followed suit.

The most famous of these assassinations carried out by the USA was that of Osama Bin Laden in 2011, but there have been a succession, including most recently that of Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi al-Qurashi, the leader of the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant.

The Intercept ran an interesting expose of US drone operations on its website recently.

Other regimes, including North Korea, Iran, and Russia have used targeted killings. The Russian speciality is poisoning. The North Koreans are more creative.

Perhaps, gentle reader, I'm squeamish, but I have deep reservations about any strategy of targeted assassinations, however noble the motive.

Extra judicial killings have no place in international law, and despite the fact that many countries, including the USA, scorn the notion of the rule of law applying internationally and universally, it is a noble concept worthy of recognition.

Without it, the powerful can basically do what they like.

Then there is the issue of innocents being caught up in these attacks. 

I can acknowledge that these killings target the worst of the worst, but even the most notorious NAZIs were given the privilege of trials.

When you think about it, this use of technology is something entirely new.

With all the power of artificial intelligence unleashed, nobody on God's good earth, no matter where they live, or their race or nationality, is safe.

God does not live in the White House, the Knesset or the Islamic Consultative Assembly, nor, as far as I know, does He have a squadron of Raptors handy.

Danger Close - A Review

Pic courtesy Sydney Morning Herald

This is my attempt, gentle reader, at a movie review.

Back in the day, we called them “pictures”, but that was a long time ago.

The movie is Danger Close, the recently released account of the Battle of Long Tan on 18th August 1966.

The story resonates with me for a number of reasons.

I went to school at Downlands with Frank Topp, who was killed in the opening few minutes of the battle. He is represented by a few seconds of footage when he is marched into D Company as a reinforcement on the morning of the 18th August. In the movie, he's one of the two diggers given a briefing about the reputation of Harry Smith's crew as he arrives.

I copped a bit of bullying at Downlands in 1961 when I started as a skinny fourteen year-old. I was a schoolies son from North Queensland, not the offspring of a wealthy land holder from the Western Downs, as a fair proportion of my school mates were at the time. Frank, for reasons I’ve never really understood, acted frequently as my protector.

He was well built and burly, so they left me alone. Perhaps the fact that his old man was a small crop farmer from Helidon, rather than a cow cockie from a big holding helped. We were both on the outer.

Frank left Downlands (as I did) at the end of 1962, and joined the army as an apprentice in RAEME. He became fascinated by the warries he began to hear about Vietnam, and transferred to Infantry. He arrived in Vietnam on the 16th July 1966, and was marched into D Coy 6 RAR on the morning of the battle. He didn’t have time to get to know the diggers he died with.

I was first in Long Tan in April 1970, when as a member of B Coy 7 RAR and a Nasho on his second operation in country, we were trucked there and harboured up near that famous rubber plantation until dark. Then we moved on foot through the night into our AO along a dry creek bed called the Suoi Lo O Nho. It was a bugger of a trip.

I also visited the site as a tourist in 2007 with my two sons. That was a much more rewarding experience, But it’s a sombre place.

The movie was well worth watching, irrespective of my experience of the history. It's production is slick, and the cinematography is first class.

The narrative is obviously based on the record, but there were a few incidents written in that, as far as I know, never occurred. There is a short cameo about a VC sniper in a woodcutters hut, as well as another involving two Vietnamese women which I doubt ever happened. It doesn't matter. They don’t detract.

The performances were generally pretty good, especially that of Travis Fimmel who played Harry Smith (OC D Coy) and Daniel Webber who played private Paul Large. There is a back story involving their relationship which may, or may not be accurate. Again, it doesn't matter and provides some diversion from the heavy themes of endurance, courage and loyalty in the face of impossible odds embedded in the narrative. 

The sound and fury of the artillery which was the conclusive element in the outcome is well conveyed, as is the on-the-ground minute by minute ordeal of the diggers.

The production team did a good job of reproducing a rubber plantation (a paulownia plantation at Wooroolin near Kingaroy) and the background landscape captured the Long Tan area pretty well, although I reckon the soil wasn’t quite red enough. Maybe they should have done some shooting on the Atherton Tablelands, where the contrasting red soil and green vegetation mimic Phouc Tuy.

It's very much a Queensland product. Apart from the rubber plantation scenes at Kingaroy, filming was also done in the Gold Coast hinterland near Nerang and at the Village Roadshow studios at Oxenford.

I could carry on about the authenticity and accuracy of representations of kit such as weapons, webbing, packs, but I won't. The weapons were spot on, as far as I could tell, but we never carried F1s. This was set four years before my time, and perhaps they were phased out by then.

The choppers confused me a little. They looked like the UH-1B, shorter than the UH-1H that I was familiar with. Perhaps the B series were replaced by the H series between 1966 and 1970. I'd welcome any guidance from chopper nerds on that. 

Again, it matters not. They made all the right noises. 

Apparently getting the movie going financially was a close-run thing.  It has that in common with the battle, which could have ended in complete disaster.

I'm glad it was made. Kriv Stenders (director) deserves kudos for actually getting it to screen.

It's a story that had to be told.

And that is was made in Australia, by Australians, is gratifying.

Another Anniversary

July 20th (next Saturday) marks the 50th anniversary of the first Apollo moon landing.

By July 1969, I had been serving in 7^th Battalion RAR for about a month, having completed Infantry Corps training at Singleton before being marched into the battalion. I was “called up” as a teacher working at Goondiwindi State School.

7 RAR had been "warned" for operational service in Vietnam, and the pace of our training activity was frenetic. Initially, when first marched into the battalion after corps training, I was posted to D Company, but after a week or two was transferred to B Company. I have no idea why the transfer occurred. There is nothing on my retrieved service record to provide a reason, so it was probably down to manpower considerations.

These same manpower considerations were probably also responsible for my posting to Infantry. As a teacher, I had requested Education Corps. I was not happy.

The B Coy posting was the beginning of an association with the men I served with in Vietnam, a unique association which lasts to this day. By the anniversary of the moon landing I will have known these men for 50 years, longer than I've known my wife and kids.

In mid-July 1969, we were flown into the Colo-Putty training area for an exercise in small unit tactics in preparation for tropical warfare in the Vietnamese jungle and paddy. The fact that is was mid-Winter in Australia, and that the country around the training area was scrub rather than jungle seemed lost on the army.

Just as we arrived, a Sou'wester ramped up, and began blowing sleet and drizzle directly (it seemed) from somewhere in the Antarctic. Anticipating the conditions, one resourceful digger had brought a balaclava with him, and when we were encamped in the bush on the first night of the exercise, produced it from his backpack and put it on.

Next morning, when he woke up, the balaclava had somehow turned when he was asleep and covered his eyes. In his groggy state, he assumed he had been struck blind during the night, and noisy panic ensued. The commotion attracted the platoon sergeant who was upset at the noise (we were supposed to be observing tactical silence) and balaclavas were immediately confiscated, and wearing one became a chargeable offence.

We barged around the scrub in the sleet and mud for a day or two, amid much cursing and swearing about the army in general, and national service in particular, and finally, on the last night, were allowed to go "non-tac".

This meant we could light fires and try to get warm. Being warm was a state which had eluded us for the last two days. A couple of soldiers had been flown out to be treated for exposure.

Once we had lit a couple of fires, we began to put out boots as close to these fires as we could in an attempt to get warm feet again. This was not a good idea. The GP boots had a metal plate installed under the sole, which rapidly heated up, and a mad boot removing scramble ensued.

We had been allowed to put hootchies up on the last (non-tac) night of the exercise. A hootchie is a sheet of waterproof plastic, two of which could be clipped together to make a rudimentary shelter. which at least provided respite from the sleet and drizzle but did little to stop the horizontal howling wind which always seem to be blowing through the hootchie. I had a bright idea and put one green army blanket across the end of the shelter as a wind break, tying it in place with coms cord.

Next morning, when we let the tent down prior to packing up for the flight out, the blanket stayed in place. During the night, it had become sodden, and eventually froze in place.

The news of the moon landing came through whilst we were waiting to be flown out of the training area. We were in no position to watch it live. Nor was I at all excited. After all, if the Yanks were so bloody clever, why hadn't they sorted Vietnam years ago?

The wind had not abated, and when we were set to emplane aboard a Caribou transport for the flight back to Sydney, the conditions became a major problem. Once we had boarded from where we were sitting in the fuselage of the Caribou, we could see the flight crew. What we saw was not confidence inspiring. Both pilot and co-pilot seemed to be struggling to keep the ship on track.

Apparently, the Caribou's large tail was a problem in the cross wind. Eventually, amidst a great deal of noise from the big Pratt and Whitneys, we unstuck and commenced a bumpy flight towards Sydney.

As it turned out, the conditions had deteriorated further and were now too dangerous, and we were the last flight out that day. This was a bonus, as the platoon HQ group was scheduled on the next flight, and we arrived back in base without them. The only NCO with us let it be known that if we kept out of sight, we had the best part of 24 hours to our own devices, which meant lots of napping, and a beer or two at the boozer.

That's how I remember the anniversary.

Caribou (not in Oz).

Nostalgia

It's been over twelve months now since I retired.

My first attempt at retirement was an abject failure, as it lasted only six months.

This one is permanent. I'm deaf, which makes working in noisy environments impossible. Trying to plan with my co-workers on the way to jobs, and conversing with kids and teachers in noisy classrooms had become embarrassing.

I do miss the work. One of the experiences I miss is flying in and out of places like Quilpie, Cunnamulla and Charleville.

This video was taken as we were landing at Cunnamulla.

The aircraft was a chartered Beechcraft Super King Air.

Cunnamulla was an American bomber base in World War Two, and Lyndon Johnson spent time there. I guess the Yanks figured that the Japanese would get so bored flying over the country between the coast and the outback that they'd shelve any ideas of attacking it.

Enjoy the vid.

My Flying List

No - I've never flown on a Concorde. This one is at the Intrepid museum NYC.

I don’t pretend to be an expert, gentle reader, but I reckon I’m as qualified as any lay person to comment on matters aviation.
I’ve done plenty of flying. Some I’ve forgotten. This I remember in chronological order –
1968 – Slingsby glider at Goondiwindi

Slingsby

1969 – TAA Vickers Viscount (Brisbane – Williamtown – Nasho intake)

TAA Viscount

1969 – RAAF UH1H and Navy UH1B, C-130A and C-130E, DHC Caribou, (Training in 7 RAR)

DHC Caribou

UH-1H

1970 – RAAF and US Army UH1H (Operational flying – More times than I can count – beat walking); DHC – American Airlines R & R charter – Saigon/Bangkok – Boeing 707; Caribou; C -123; Qantas Boeing 707 10/12/70 (RTA)

C-123

Qantas 707

1974 – Lake Buccaneer (GBR trip)

Lake Buccaneer

1977 – TAA Boeing 727

TAA 727

1978 – Air NZ DC-10 (The actual aircraft that crashed at Mt Erebus – ZK-NZP one year later. I always note the rego numbers)

Air New Zealand DC 10

1979 – Boeing 727

British Airways 747

1980 – Boeing 747 – (British Airways – UK & return).

Australian Airways 737

1983 – 1989 – Various Boeing 737s.

DC3

1986 – DC – 3 (“Champagne flight”). My bride got airsick.

C130 during pilot's strike

1989 – C-130 E Townsville/Brisbane during pilot’s dispute. Tail number indicated that it was an aircraft I had flown in during Nasho training in 1969.

Chartered Cessna 180

1993 – Cessna 180 on charter – Mt Isa, Dajarra, Boulia, Bedourie, Birdsville, Windorah (Researching indigenous communities)

QantasLink Super Kingair

1993/94 – Beechcraft Super King air – 4 Flights annually attending Townsville board meetings from Mt Isa.

1994 – 2000 – Various 737s and Airbus 320s – attending national conferences.

Virgin 737

2006 – Singapore Airlines 777 – Brisbane/Singapore. Airbus 320 Singapore/Saigon.

Singapore airlines 777

2007 – Brisbane/KL – Malaysia Airlines 777. KL/Saigon – Airbus 320,Air Vietnam 737 – 800 Da Nang/Hanoi.
Air Vietnam ATR – 72 Saigon/Da Nang.

Vietnam Airlines ATR 72

Malaysian Airlines 777

Malaysian Airlines 737

2008 – 2015 – Numerous flights to Adelaide on Virgin 737 – 800s. Flight to Perth to connect with Indian Pacific – Virgin 737 – 800.
2010 – Darwin/Brisbane Boeing 767.

Qantas 767

2007 – 2015 – Lear Jet; Piper PA-42 Cheyenne; Beechcraft Super King Air (All charters involving consultancy work at Charleville, Quilpie and Cunnamulla – one flight per school term). The Lear was amazing. We hit an emu on the Quilpie strip in the King Air.

Beechcraft Super King Air

2018 – Qantas 747 Brisbane/LA/New York. COPA 737 – Washington/Panama City/Havana.

Qantas 747 - 400

2019 – Various flights to Newcastle – Airbus 320s and 737s. I usually travel domestic every couple of months, and have discovered that whilst Toowoomba’s new airport is convenient, fares to Sydney, Townsville, Cairns and Melbourne are expensive.

Jetstar A320. If you travel with this mob, read the fine print before you book online.

Air north fly Embraer 170s and I have used these various times direct from Toowoomba to visit friends and rellies in Townsville and Cairns.

Airnorth E170

My favourite long haul aircraft is the Boeing 747 – 400 (especially if you book row 46 or 58 behind the exits).
My favourite short haul aircraft – Embraer 170 as configured by Air North.
My most memorable flight – It's a toss up between flying out of a dirt strip in the Colo training area in a Caribou in July 1969 in a massive cross wind. (We were last stick out and all flights were cancelled after ours), and Charleville/Roma on a stormy November afternoon in 2010 when we struck hail and wind shear. Pilot was a genius.

Time Travel

Williamtown Airport - Pic courtesy News Ltd.

Visiting Newcastle, gentle reader, is always for me a special kind of time travel.

I’m here catching up with an old rifle section mate who is in care whilst the specialists are trying to manage his myeloma.

It’s most likely a consequence of exposure to dioxin all those years ago. It’s bitter to see him in pain, but at the same time good to catch up with two other ex Nashos who travelled up from Sydney. It had some of the flavour of a mini section reunion. We spent about a year together in 1969/70, comprising six months training in Holsworthy, through Canungra and Shoalwater, and then the voyage to Vung Tau on the Sydney.

Three of us did rookies at Singleton, the other at Kapooka.

In Vietnam, we were together in 5 platoon until July, when we went our separate ways.

Every point along the way has its memories of another time.

The airport at Williamtown, now the home of F-35s, is where I disembarked from a TAA Vickers Viscount on my way to Singleton from Brisbane a Nasho. It was my first flight in any kind of aircraft.

Back then, there were Dassault Mirages roaring about the Williamtown RAAF base, which shares the airport.

Last time I drove down to Newcastle, I stopped off at the Infantry museum at Singleton. Strangely, perhaps, that didn’t trigger as many memories, although if you're into military history, it's worth a visit.

The units based there now have privatised security, and the hi-vis vest clothed staff on the gate weren’t impressed by an old geyser seeking a nostalgic wander around.

I don’t remember any ex-diggers rocking up making strange requests on the few occasions when I did guard duty back in the day, but from memory, admission had more to do with the state of the guard commander’s liver or whether or not there were any attractive young women in the party, rather than health and safety protocols.

Newcastle is an industrial centre, but much of the area around the harbour has been gentrified. It reminded me of Teneriffe in Brisbane.

It still has the laid back atmosphere I remember from the seventies. This is perhaps the most obvious aspect of the time travel experience. Even driving there is much as it was back then, with precious little impatience and a tolerance for slightly lost geriatric visitors in hire cars.

It probably just as well the local drivers are tolerant. The traffic engineering is woeful, although obviously roundabouts are seen to be the solution to every traffic flow problem.

Brisbane International Musings

This, gentle reader, is not our aircraft.

Our aircraft is a 747. This is an Airbus A330 which is parked on the Qantas flight line where our plane should be.

Our plane is westbound somewhere over the Pacific, running two plus hours late.

Let’s hope the hotel in the big Apple has 24 hour check in. We will be getting there somewhere around 3am tomorrow.

Or is that today?

The time zones do my head in.

This is a great terminal, and the Qantas staff very helpful.

The face scanner threw a  hissy fit when I rocked up. I know I’m ugly, but this was ridiculous.

 I had to front a real human being who compared my passport photo with me.

It was me.

Apparently the technology has problems with beard colour. It doesn’t like grey. If I had known that, I would have dyed it in the interests of efficiency.

Now it’s hurry up and wait. Reminds me of the army.......

Warbirds

RAAF C-29J Spartan

And now for something completely different.

Politics is more boring than usual, the media is full of rubbish reporting about some wedding somewhere, and I've had it up to here with the self contradictory drivel routinely emanating from Washington.

Therefore, gentle reader, I'll post about warbirds.

There is an annual event in God's Waiting Room (Toowoomba) called the David Hack meet. It's supported by local Rotary, the earnings go to a range of charities, and is named in honour of David, whose passions were cars and photography, and whose life was cut short in 1998 by Non Hodgkins Lymphoma (Leukaemia).

I have attended for the last few years, and displayed my MX5, but more about that over at MX5 Mutterings. 

This post features some of the warbirds on display. I'm not as au fait with warbirds as I am with motor cars, so forgive me, gentle reader, if I get some of the identifications wrong.

Better still - comment and set me straight if you see an error.

Whatever you do, don't mention Vietnam.........

North American T-6 Texan

Yak - 11

North American T-28 Trojan

Kiwi Harvard

CAC Winjeel

Wirraway motor. Noisy when it's running.

All the details......

And that is what it looks and sounds like in motion.

2017 David Hack Meet

This year's David Hack meet was up to the usual standard.

There was the usual variety of classic machinery, both automotive and aircraft, and I took a few shots. They're presented here, gentle reader, for your edification.

1942 Buick

Hudson Terraplane Ambulance

Jag XK 150

  

Yep - it's a Caddy - 63 I think.

Lovely little Datto (Fairlady)

ND Mazda MX-5 Cockpit

Ford Galaxie - just for Cav

Lancia Monte Carlo

63 Valiant. My high school chemistry teacher drove one of these.

Beautiful interior in this Model A Ford.

WW 2 GM Blitz (RAF livery)

Blitz again. Note Holden badge above and left of instrument cluster.

There were lots of planes - Victa Airtourer.

Apparently this thing flew - I don't know how well - 1932 Stipa-Caproni.

And there's always Mustangs.

Studebaker Admiral