Date:
PIREP ID:
17.07.2004 / 30.07.2004
0415h, July 7th, 2004
Things never seem to get better in this part of the country. I really have a hard time wrapping my head around such inhumanities. That said, there is urgent need for the supplies we have amassed here in Gambella to be placed in the hands of the refugees and the few brave medical people who have found their way into the Shambe area. Mbanda is a constant source of information and he's been urging me to get into the air. I've tried not to sound mercenary but my pockets are not terribly deep these days and fuel and maintenance are rather dear.
However, I just received word from D. that she's sweet talked four "sports" visiting Red Lake into sponsoring any humanitarian flights I make while in Africa. They've asked to remain anonymous — hey, no problem. As long as The old Troll sees cash rolling in, what does he care from whence it came,eh? As an aside, I believe this illustrates just how truly indispensable our ladies of dESPair really are and who would not respect such amazing attributes?
So with my purse no longer in danger of being empty, I was able to get down to the business of loading up. It was 0430h when several trucks arrived carrying bags of cement, that's what was printed on them, and that's what the local authorities found they contained. This Didas Mbanda is one clever fellow— he lays out his story that we were preparing the C-123 for some maximum load testing and what could be better than cement mix, mon? My stomach flipped, the Lieutenant in charge of security wasn't buying it. I'm sure he felt Didas was all too happy and smiley and frankly, so did I. The Lieutenant ordered his men to spread out and un shoulder their weapons… if there's one thing that bothers me more than snakes and heat it's guns being pointed in my direction.
He demanded to see our papers, even though he'd inspected them countless times before, he made my journalist show him what was on her tapes and he ordered several bags chosen at random from the skids. Once again our papers stood up to his scrutiny, he quickly tired of the interview footage on the tapes and turned his attention to the five cement bags that lay at his feet…
my shirt was soaked through and I hadn't done a lick of work yet. A quick glance at Didas didn't help as he was still smiling and wise cracking with the guards. I gave him a glance that said "knock it off wise ass" and he shrugged his shoulders with mock severity and mouthed "what!"
The snap of an opening pocket knife brought my eyes back to the cement bags. The Lieutenant stuck the blade into the closest bag and as the incision widened all eyes were on the stream of powder that pooled on the tarmac… it was high grade… cement! Bloody cement! Wonderful, beautiful gray portland cement mix.
"Get this cleaned up, now!" he shouted in the direction of the still smiling Didas and guards.
"Let me get some tape for those cuts or the bags'll split wide open then our Lillie will really be pissed", I volunteered. "Hey Boss, you wanna try some bags from this skid?" Mbanda mocked.
0530h: we climb aboard after completing the ground inspection. The run up is carried out with quiet efficiency and before long we're in the early dawn skies on course for Honey Pot 1. We had decided the best tactic was to stay low and try to keep off the radar. Mbanda brought some coffee up front, which I welcomed but I was in no mood for his cherie demeanour so I stayed focused on flying my bird. He didn't take the hint and leave but he did shut up. At about 30 nm from Gambella heading in the sam direction as us we saw a fairly long column of vehicles and after careful examination through the binoculars Didas determined they were armed and moving fast. Another mile or so further we caught a glimpse of another fast moving party and another shortly after that.
What to do? Discretion being the better part of valour, it was decided that we'd drop down low, perform a simulated LAPSE then stay down and head for Honey Pot 1 where we'd cool our heals until this military activity moved on. Didas insisted on going back to helping toss out a few bags of cement. Why I couldn't guess, the Kicker was more than capable for such a job.
0540h, July 30th, 2004
Finally, we feel it's safe to continue on and complete our mission and we get an early start. I'd had plenty of time to study my charts and plan our route. I cruised at 1500' agl until we passed Honey Pot 2 and turned toward Shambe pad 1. I set the Radar Alt. to 250' and began my descent after the drop at Shambe 1 I dropped down into the valley and kept below the hills. The following pictures show each of the drop zones so there's little more to add other than to say the weather was perfect and other other circumstances the flight might have been enjoyable. I figure this was an SOAS mission and I am most appreciative of the SOAS training of a few years ago under the watchful eye of our SOAS Chief, Cpt. Vilk. The last DZ at Shambe pad 5 reminded me of our LAPSE trials at SOAS HQ in Norway — remember that steep incline right after the DZ?
0930h: arrived at Gambella, safe and feeling very proud of ourselves.
Finally heading for the DZ —— Shambe pad 1 —— yeah tho I enter the valley…
Smoke marks the spot —— over the pad 2 DZ —— pad 3 in sight
Nearing pad 4 ——— more smoke, the rebels at work —— staying down
Pad 5 ahead —— and a steep climb out —— we turn and head for home base at Gambella
Whose the idiot waving? A flyby at Honey Pot 1
Click snaps for larger images
Oh, you might be wondering about the airlift cargo — it was hidden in the cement bags which were really bags with in bags — so we made a little mess when the bags hit the ground, we delivered didn't we?
Respectfully,
Cpt. Troll