Baku Surprise

Part 4    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


You still here, What time is it? 3am OK Still time to continue my tale - where was I, Ah yes I arrived in Baku, well wasn't sure what to do, so walked towards the Terminal it was then that I noticed it had been given a lick of paint since I was last here and was as bright as a new pin. As I went through the door, I spotted Little Natasha, Ivan the terrible and Josef standing inside they were all grining from ear to ear,

"We hoped you'd come we have suprizee." They said in unison, little natasha ran up and planted a kiss right on my lips, the others followed suit except that I managed to deflect their's to kissing my ears, We with you, you come follow us and they all trouped out expecting me to follow "You come, All OK-Yes"

And there on the tarmac was the sweetest little Beech 300 " For you, Special Paint-job you like?"

"I like, I like very much"

So off we went Maddie and Percy Prune, on our adventures and when  my beloved Orion P 3  is in for servicing you will find me in this little lady

Bottoms up!                                                  

Cheers
Percy

Baku Surprise

Part 3    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three years ago, I was undertaking an epic Round-The-World flight sponsored by http://www.Surclaro.com as part of the awareness campaign in the search for Maddie McCann see http://www.findmadelaine.com

I flew out of Waddington AFB to Stockholm then across the Baltic Sea to Helsinki, then across the Gulf of Finland to Tallinn in a Blizzard, when the weather calmed down a bit I headed south-east to Moscow, where we picked up 35 passengers, Russian Army Officers going out on a exercise, we dropped them at Volgograd, and headed for Astrakhan where I was determined to buy a hat.

Here on a little airstrip in the delta of the mighty River Volga, excuse my singing the Vulger Boatman "da da dah daar -- da da dah  daar" - earplugs are optional. I walk into the town see if I can buy that hat.

"You vant a cat?"

"Niet! I vant a hat, eh?" OK OK. Huh! having given up on that, and holding the cat in a small box,, I walk across some railway tracks and that's when I was stopped by a very pretty natasha in a military uniform not familiar to me, with her was her own Ivan the Terrible (Well he smelt terrible to me) he poked me in the ribs with his ancient AK47, I was not amused what with me being a War Hero an-all I told him so too.

This Ivan he demanded "Ten roubles or your wife," had to think about that one. As I waved a 20 under his nose, an ancient Zil limousine pulls out of a side street, six men jump out a shove poor Ivan unceremoniously into the back of the car.

Their leader who identifies himself as Josef, smartly salutes little natasha, offers me a grubby hand while slapping me heartily on the back with the other.

"OK Engliss you back to plane, Yes?" he took a garlicy breath " You take little natasha, Baku Yes?"
Then off they sped off in a cloud of dust, leaving little natasha and me stood in the middle of the street.

"We go Eglissss, OK", says she, its then that despite her delightful smile, she waves a minscule pistol so in my very best Russian I answer "Da, we go" and back we go to Maddie.
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Are you still awake, I wondered  if you had nodded off I'm sure I can hear snoring!

Hey You! yes you in the third row wake up, I'll expect you to repeat all this to the papers if we don't get home.

When we get back to Maddie Ivan and his mates have a six wheeled ex Russian Army truck backed up to Maddies hatch and they're loading crates of scotch into her belly.

"Is OK Englisss?" says little natasha  still  waving her pistol. "Some for you, Yes!"

We taxi out, take off and head to Baku, where the obligatory ex Russian Army truck is waiting on the runway "You stop now!" she says sticking her pistol into my right ear, a little to close for comfort. and true to her word when they are all gone a crate of Johnny Walker sits on the John.

"Let's get out of here I say" pushing the throttles fully open, and we dash down the runway into the setting sun.

Baku Surprise

Part 2    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OK. Why not. nothing doing here, but how does one get there? I answer to myself "Well you don't start from here for a start."
I rummage through my bag, pull out a pack of  Jeppersen charts, "Well its not that far from here, as the crow flies provided he don't get himself shot on the way, down here they shoot anything that moves and quite a lot that don't."

I look out the window at an awakening Cairo, as the call to prayer warbles from mosques all across the city.
In an hour I'm showered, dressed, packed my bag, retrieved my gun from under my pillow, a choice of passports from behind the wardrobe and slipped down the back stairs and into the street, I grab a coffee from a street-side stall, and hail a cab.

At the airport I head not for the terminal but for the cargo bays, without delay I make enquiries as the aircraft leaving to the north-east, "Anywhere Beirut, Ankara, Tbilisi, Baku, even Tehran?" he points to an ancient Antonov An22 "Try him."

"Where you go?" I ask one of the crew. "Mosul, Iraq then on to Tabriz Iran - Oil supplies" then he added "You want ride? You any good at making good coffee -Turkish?"
"I'll have a bash" I answer.
"OK" he says sling your bag with the others bags over by the hatch and give me a hand with these crates.

An hour later we have trundled out to the runway, taken off and are heading north-east across the Med.

"Is this technically called flying?" I ask myself as we bump and rattle, grind and whistle yawing first to the left then to the right, fall several hundred feet only to catch ourselves and slowly clamber back to our place in the sky.
"You OK?" a voice from behind the crud, "You want to buckle up, this could be a bumpy landing."

"Already?" I ask,

"Sure comes the answer, you've been asleep for hours, we already did our drops, we are diverted to Baku, that OK for you"

"Perfect." I reply, trying hard to hide my apprehension.

When we come to a lumbering halt, and the huge cargo doors creak open, the brilliant light  streams into the interior of this huge beast and we tumble out onto the tarmac, The pilot and Crew come over, there is much shaking of hands, slapping of backs, a cuddle or two and just a few kisses to much to my liking but this is the way here in the Caucasus

I look around, and memories of my last visit come flooding  back.

Baku Surprise

Part 1  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I throw open the door, stagger across the room and sit uneasily on the bed.

"How did it come to this?" I ask myself out-loud.

You know how it is, You go out for a quiet drink, you meet some girl, in some bar, in some town, in some far off land, the jobs gone sour, you wish you were somewhere else, you drink too much, the rest is a bit of a haze, somehow you wake up naked in bed with a stranger, an empty bottle of vodka on the locker, she's still sound asleep when you leave, and stagger the few streets to your hotel.

You are about to lay your head to the pillow, and wait for dawn, for some quite unknown reason, a sixth sense triggers you into action, you reach for the gun under your pillow, and before you can get to your feet, an envelope slides under your door, you snatch it up, grab the door, throw it open, but there's no-one there not even footsteps in the drab dusty corridor just a single light bulb swinging gently to and fro, in the hot wind blowing through a hastily opened window.

You tear open the envelope, it's addressed to me Percy Prune written in green ink, "Who writes in green ink these days?" I ask myself, "Who writes at all?"  I add.

"Well come on! What does it say?" my mind asks again.


"Allo English"

"We gotta one big surprise for you, in Baku",

Lots of love 

Boris


Baku, I rack my brain, that's halfway up the western side of the Caspian Sea, I went there once and only once, why would I go there again,  and who is Boris? I shake the envelope and a small card drops on the floor at my feet.

International Air Freight Services
Heydar Aliyer
Baku
Azerbaijan
Russian Federation.

How do I get there?, Well for a start, I wouldn't start from here.

What Ho Chaps Wing Comander Percy Prune's the name, 

Percy to my friends

We took off  from Waddington AFB bound for Faro, traffic busy tonight so I’ve got to go.check our route, ah yes we are just pas Rsing between Brize Norton and Lyneham, I can just make out the outline of the Isle of Wight to our south, the coast glittering in the moonlight, we should cross the British coast somewhere near Portland Bill.

After passing over Jersey we cross  the Brittany coast near Cape Finistere , everything fine till we are well out over Bay of Biscay, weather 8/8 and rain,  Wind has verred right round now coming at us at 70 knots on our starboard side pushing us continually off track, try  to compensate with the engines to no avail. at 00:30 I start talking to Faro 

Arrived in Faro 01:10 after a truly dodgy flight! Engine controls totally useless, she really is a dreadful aircraft, but then I should be used to that after my 38 years with the RAF. Our Navigator refuses to fly in her again and the Engineer has the F700 our and is ripping panels off.

Just look at that flashy Learjet parked next to us, its crew are out of hours and have gone off to the beach-club, for a long weekend they said, their parting words were that they’d “goanna take in a few waves”, whatever that means. Only waves I ever took were in an ancient PBY5A Catalina, not unlike that one parked over the way.

Should be interesting see what tomorrow will bring

I have to admit the Orion P3 does take a bit of getting used to, but I'm told that once you have figured out her female ways you'll find her a trusty ol' bird.

Good night had by all in Faro, though rather too many G & T's for me -My excuse is I'm just getting my air legs. Our Engineer Matt Roberts says MA-DEE is as good as new, so at 13:00 we headed out, when we had climbed to 14,000 ATC put us a new heading you guessed right, sent us back to Faro, every time we were handed over, the same happened, there's a special name for that kind of Spanish gent.'  Went VFR till we were out of range and headed for Gibraltar after an uneventful  flight, refuelled, and climbed steadily into the blue.

Our flight last year in a Piper Arrow III, took us over the North Pole, then down to the West Coast of Canada, down to LA, across to Hawaii, south to Christmas Island, across to Guam, then to Fiji, then to South Island NZ, up to NZ North Island, then Oz, up to Singapore, across to Coco’s Island then to Gan, up the gulf, across to Istanbul, across Greece to the Alps, through them into France, and so back to dear old' Blighty.

I've flown many times from Gibraltar to Bengahzi so I cancelled our IFR Flight plan and went VFR. I took her up to 32,000, she didn't like that too much and the view became a bit hazy so came back to 30,000 and, after half an hour, picked up the Algerian coast. Loads of excitement  here though, as  we were buzzed by a pair of French Air Force Mirage Jets, who came to see who we were. I hope they got some good pictures of Maddie.

After a couple of hours we passed over Tripoli and another hour brought us to Benghazi, spent many happy hours there when I was a young sprog, but once over the desert we lost the ground to a Ghibli so came down and instead of pushing on to Mersa Matruh, we decided to night stop at Gamal Abd El Nasser (El Adem). ATC clear us to land but no life on the ground frequency,but having been here before we had no trouble finding our way to the apron.

Most of the buildings we had, when I was stationed here in ‘69’ are gone. This airfield has become quite featureless except for the water tower which still sticks up like a sore finger.

I remember the Advance Base Unit water tower did the same, until some daft Charlie, in an Armstrong Argosy decided to beat up the Airfield but hadn't noticed the water tower, that is until it was too late - killed the lot - poor blighters.

AI've flown many times from Gibraltar to Bengahzi so I cancelled our IFR Flight plan and went VFR. I took her up to 32,000, she didn't like that too much and the view became a bit hazy so came back to 30,000 and, after half an hour, picked up the Algerian coast. Loads of excitement  here though, as  we were buzzed by a pair of French Air Force Mirage Jets, who came to see who we were. I hope they got some good pictures of Maddie.
After a couple of hours we passed over Tripoli and another hour brought us to Benghazi, spent many happy hours there when I was a young sprog, but once over the desert we lost the ground to a Ghibli so came down and instead of pushing on to Mersa Matruh, we decided to night stop at Gamal Abd El Nasser (El Adem). ATC clear us to land but no life on the ground frequency,but having been here before we had no trouble finding our way to the apron.

Most of the buildings we had, when I was stationed here in ‘69’ are gone. This airfield has become quite featureless except for the water tower which still sticks up like a sore finger.

I remember the Advance Base Unit water tower did the same, until some daft Charlie, in an Armstrong Argosy decided to beat up the Airfield but hadn't noticed the water tower, that is until it was too late - killed the lot - poor blighters.

A quick call to Abdulla Momud  from the call box in air movements brought him hotfoot in an ancient Humber Shooting Brake, inviting us to  stay in his humble abode.  After a couple of hours we passed over Tripoli and another hour brought us to Benghazi, spent many happy hours there when I was a young sprog, but once over the desert we lost the ground to a Ghibli so came down and instead of pushing on to Mersa Matruh, we decided to night stop at Gamal Abd El Nasser (El Adem). ATC clear us to land but no life on the ground frequency,but having been here before we had no trouble finding our way to the apron.
Most of the buildings we had, when I was stationed here in ‘69’ are gone. This airfield has become quite featureless except for the water tower which still sticks up like a sore finger.

I remember the Advance Base Unit water tower did the same, until some daft Charlie, in an Armstrong Argosy decided to beat up the Airfield but hadn't noticed the water tower, that is until it was too late - killed the lot - poor blighters.

A quick call to Abdulla Momud  from the call box in air movements brought him hotfoot in an ancient Humber Shooting Brake, inviting us to  stay in his humble abode. In 69 he lived in a tent or rather 3 tents 1 for the men, 1 for the women, 1 for the Mercedes, in that year I attended his forth Wedding. I always remember his advice, he said "Johnnie one wife no good, two wives fight, three wives two against one, yes Johnnie four wives best", well last night they made an old man very happy indeed.


On returning to the Airfield at 06:30 we found MA-DEE in a line-up of six MIG-21's with Russian crews dashing about, no one took the slightest notice, as we calmly did our checks, taxied out and flew away east.

Before long we crossed the Quattra depression then came up to Cairo by 09:00 and by 11:00 we were talking to Jeddah and at 14:54 we made a textbook landing at Ali A.

What Ho chaps!

Now isn't this what we fly for!

8/8 to the floor 2 hours to the diversion airfield, according to Air Traffic Control (ATC) Melbourne, yes Melbourne over 5000 nautical miles away is running the show, the runway is at my 12 o'clock 8 miles we're at 2000 feet, and' can only see water and lots of it, my vision of ice cold beers has turned into a vision of floating in a life raft (maybe) in shark-infested waters for days on end .

We are at 3 miles nothing, I take her down to 500 to see if I can see anything at all and there smack in front of us is is the runway with a Fokker F28 taking off towards us, I select full flaps lower the under cart and we drop onto the runway falling under his belly hope it scared him as much as it did me.

Reminds me of one time I was helping out ATC at RAF Kinloss, late on a Friday afternoon, the local controller one Master Signaller Crossword (you know who you are, don't you?), it was getting to dusk and a bit of a mist was falling, 

I was on the main runway with the yellow peril (ATC Landrover ) putting out glim lights (battery operated emergency lighting) I crossed the centre line for the Nth time carrying one in each hand like to buckets, when out of the mist came at some speed an English Electric Canberra of 7 Squadron, I'm not sure who was most surprised, later we went to the mess and got slowly drunk.

Regards to all

Percy

What Ho, Chaps!

Wing Commander Percival Prune CDM & Bar here, call me Percy for short.

Howdy let me introduce myself.

I'm Percy Prune a flier of sorts, a man of many parts, born in Bengal at the end of the war (What war, you say) the Boer War of course!

I joined the jolly ol' RAF as an AC1 at 19, and very soon after became a Sgt Pilot, flying the jolly ol' Chipmunk, the one that sorted the men from the boys.

Once I got commissioned (how that came about is another story) I became an Officer and a Gentleman, my mother would tell you I was always one of those. 

First thing you have to understand that not all officers are pilots or gentlemen, and secondly that not all pilots are fliers' .

In my view a pilot often as not, gets to an aircraft, it could be an Avocet or a mahogany bomber, as far as they're concerned they are at the office, and they are in charge, fetch me this, do this, do that, do the other.

But to me a flier is very different, when he or she (very nice to see a lot more of these) first thing they do is stand back and take it all in, then they approach it slowly and methodically, caressing and stroking its many parts, as it it were a thoroughbred horse, when they have checked its mouth, it's fetlocks lifting each foot in turn they move to the interior in the same way.

Even when they enter the aircraft, they still find time to check any cargo is secure, check the crew and passengers are all arrived and are happy to fly with him/her, only then will her/she commence their PFC's.

But I digress, for me time flew just about as much as I did, after the chippie, came the Harvard T5, then a twin course on the ol' AVRO Anson and on to a tour as an Flying Officer on the ol' Percival Pembroke, and the the DC3 (C-47G). 

Following a visit to an Operational Conversion Unit (OCU) for multi-engined course, came the Handley Page Hastings, then the Bristol Britannia, affectionately known as the whispering giant,

Another visit to the OCU, brought me up to speed,  with  jets, firstly as a liaison officer with De-Havilland as they developed the Comet 4 which later converted became the much maligned Nimrod.

So here I am a 65 year old has been, has been everything and everywhere all things for all men, jack of all trades and master of none.

Now I'd better check if we are ready for our descent, I can see ice cold beers waiting for us in the bar

Bottoms Up!