PIREP Leg 59 Juba Airport to Khartoum

[J G 927]

Leg 49 saw me in Bangkok staying with my mate. I spent some time seeing the sites, eating in all the best restaurants and fighting off ladies with names like “60” or “27”. Well at least that is what their wrist bands said. It is probably because Thai names are so hard to pronounce. I would have stayed there If I had known what I was about to go through.

 

What was really odd was that some of the bars we went into were nowhere near the sea, but all the ladies in them seemed to be ready to go swimming. There must have been a pool nearby. Strange thing is I never saw a sign for it. 

 

 

Seven girls in search of a swimming pool, smiling whilst I felt I was being watched.

 

I have to say the Thai girls are very friendly, and what’s more, they all knew my name. It was “Hey Johnny, you like me” or “Hello Johnny, you buy me drink” or “Hi Johnny, you ride with me?” I wasn’t sure what this last one meant, presumably it involved going horse riding or a happy jaunt in her car, or some such thing.

 

Lovely girls all of them and they all want to go home with me. How friendly is that!  Naturally I had to decline as I was staying with my mate and I didn’t want to impose, It’s a bit rude to turn up at a friend’s house an bring someone along for supper to whom they haven’t been introduced, don’t you think?

 

The odd thing was, all the time I was in Thailand I had the feeling I was being watched. A very odd feeling in deed, but I never saw anyone following me.  I must have been imagining it.

 

Well, it wasn’t long before the shenanigans with poor old Mutely came to my attention. Sunk by a laser beam firing shark!  He was lucky to escape with his life!  Clearly someone was out to stop the baton getting home. I would have to take care from now on. I was on high alert for watchers or followers now. I still didn’t see anyone suspicious though, if they were following me they were very good.

 

It was about this time I thought it best that I move on from Bangkok. Some of the girls in one or two of our regular bars had started greeting me with “Hello Johnny, you marry me?” Which was a bit forward really, and I didn’t want to lead these poor innocent ladies up the garden path, so to speak, me being a married man and all

. 

So I said goodbye to my mate and got the five to ten morning Emirates flight out of Bangkok to Dubai. 

 

 

Leaving Bangkok, still with that feeling I am being watched.

 

I had called ahead to my mate Martin who is an ex-pat working out of Dubai and Abu Dhabi, and he was happy to put me up. I normally visit him once a year anyway so an extra trip was no bother. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you ask your wife to come down for a few days and we will all do some sightseeing” Martin suggested. That sounded like a plan and so it was arranged. So the three of us met up and had a good time.  It was good to see the old girl again, but I still couldn’t throw that feeling is was being followed. Some good news though, Clive was back in the UK, the Storch was home safely, I am not saying exactly where in case I was being followed by Mickael, sniffing around after it, and Rusty was at Fairoaks in her new WW2 D-Day paint work.

 

 

Ferry across Dubai Creak, Was I being followed?

 

Micke’s call came too soon. And our short holiday was ended. Liz, my wife, came with me to the airport where we parted company, she off back to Heathrow, and me off to Uganda. I didn’t want to tell her the truth about where I was actually bound, she would have worried too much.

 

When Miki told me about my next leg I thought he was joking. South Sudan? One of the most dangerous countries on the planet! And going to Sudan, not much better, and there was the small problem of a festering conflict between the two.  “Oh thanks Micke”, I said, “don’t think I am leaving you the Storch in my will”. I mean, I know he was jealous of the aircraft but this was going too far!  South Sudan is a country only three years old. Much of the country is ruled by warlords, life is cheap and death is commonplace. I had to go to this place, wait for the Baton, and leave before I was killed. So Micke, not much of a hard ask then.  I was going to have my work cut out with this one as I knew my departure country was virtually at war with my destination one.

 

I flew to Entebbe, Uganda and started looking around for a flight to Juba. The only way I could fly into Juba was with a UN flight taking in men and supplies for the peace keepers.  The pilot assured me that I would be ok as long as I stayed at the airport. It was guarded by UPDF soldiers, that’s the Ugandan Peoples Defence force. Well you can imagine what a relief that was. So perhaps my life would be measured in hours rather than minutes when I arrived. I made some enquiries about an aircraft to fly out of Juba to Khartoum before I left as I wanted to be set up to go as soon as the baton was passed to me. The best I could do was to get hold of a local “fixer” who said that he could get a small aircraft for me at a price, but to fly it to Sudan was my problem. The price turned out to be a large amount of US Dollars, and in cash.  So I agreed, but told the lie that I wouldn’t be carrying the money myself and it would be coming in separately.  I didn’t want him to just rob me and probably top me into the bargain. I would see the aircraft and take delivery of it, and then given him the money. All dealing to be done in plain sight of the UPDF soldiers.

 

I gave Brett a call and asked him to try to get to Juba by 8 am. I was then cut off and was unable to tell him that I had arranged for a flight out with the UN the same day.  I then waited in the airport hotel for the date I would fly into Juba.

The day came and I set off for the airport. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, I had a bad feeling about this one which wasn’t helped by that persistent and weird feeling I was being followed. By this time I was becoming paranoid, and was on the lookout for familiar faces. As I was walking up to the entrance to Entebbe airport I looked up and saw a red headed man with an eye patch and an AVSIM tee shirt under his coat. I thought I had seen him before. Was he following me or was I imagining it?

 

 

 

 

Yours truly at Entebbe airport – The strange man with the red hair and an eye patch can be see looking back at me.

 

The UN flight to Juba was in a Ukrainian Antonov 26B , not a comfortable ride sitting on canvas seats bolted to the side of the fuselage. At least the red headed man wasn’t on the aircraft, and there were no dramas along the way.  I arrived at Juba on time and disembarked onto the tarmac, down the ramp with all the other cargo. The first sound that greeted me was the rattle of machine gun far in the distance, this was a dangerous place.

 

Whilst I was still at the back of the aircraft a private Lear jet landed and taxied up on the apron a hundred yards away. The door facing in my direction opened, the bottom half forming steps onto the ground. I was half hidden by unloaded cargo when the redheaded man disembarked. I ducked out of site, I was glad of the UPDF soldier by the Antonov, as Redhead didn’t seem happy to get too close to him.

 

 

This is too much of a coincidence! – You can’t see me, I am hiding.

 

 

True to his word, Brett was waiting with the Baton. A young female backpacker was walking away from him, but after a prolonged, and this time not so distant, burst of gunfire and the crump of a couple of mortar rounds, she promptly turned around and ran back to him. I don’t think he knew what he had flown into, and the girl surly did not. I told him of the situation and of the waiting UN plane and they were gone before I knew it!  Can’t say I blame him, this place was tense, bit of a shame, he seem like a nice bloke and somewhere else I would have wanted to have a few beers with him.

 

Baton secreted about my person I went to meet the fixer who took me to a hanger and showed me a 1936 military Dragon Dominie, that’s the military name for the civil Dragon Rapide. This gave me mixed feelings. On the one hand, finding such an aircraft would normally be a joy, on the other, I had almost 650 miles to cover in an aircraft with a range of only 570 miles, and slow at that. That would mean a fuel stop at least, which would mean putting down in this violent land

.

Keep an open mind John, let’s see what the aircraft was like. A brief inspection told me she was structurally sound and had been well looked after.  Her log book was with her and made interesting reading. She was bought out here in 1939 to be attached to the Gideon force lead by Wingate. The aircraft had been used as a troop transport, supply, and reconnaissance aircraft before being placed in a hangar in 1941 and forgotten. The Gideon force had been disbanded in 1941 when the Italians in North Africa surrendered. She must have been left behind but a Sudanese mechanic and his son had tended for it since then.  The son had been killed in the fighting about six months ago and my ”fixer” had acquired the aircraft. By the look of him he may have been the one who killed him. South Sudan is a brutal place.

 

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.  I paid the man and took the plane.  The read headed man was nowhere in sight, so I went into the airport building to sort out my departure. It seemed that a flight plan to Khartoum was not allowed, the situation being the way it was between the two countries. So I had a plane but couldn’t use it to get to where I wanted. Time for more US Dollar grease to be applied to the process. Wheels oiled, I was told to log a VFR “Test flight” and then go off radar. So this I did. As I returned to the aircraft, I happened to glance out of the building as what I saw fairly loosened my bowels.

 

 

The red headed man and his Hertz Rent-a-Technical.

 

There was the red headed man sitting on a heavy Technical at the controls of an ack-ack gun! He is gunning for someone, I think it is me. This an easy place to engineer just another westerner killed in the conflict.  Time to go and try to out run him. This is where the nightmare really starts.

 

First I needed to take some additional fuel with me so that I could land and fill her up myself.  Let’s see. Full tanks came to 96 gallons, it shouldn’t take a complete second tank to get to Khartoum, but let’s err on the cautious side and take say 65 gallons.  65 gallons canned weighs about the same as four average adults and takes about 15 Jerry Cans. No problem with the weight and storage as I had no passengers – the aircraft could take 12 passengers with luggage.  Fuelling seemed to take an age but after an hour and a half I was fuelled up with Jerry Cans stowed.  I was already behind schedule.

 

The UN is supposed to keep the peace. The day I left it did the opposite. A bunch of UN aircraft were hogging the runway and it was almost an hour more before I could take off. Not good for out running him.  I would have to hope he didn’t know where I was going. I suspected he did.

 

So it was almost midday when I had permission to go. There were no maps except an old British road atlas from the ’30s to help me to navigate. The atlas wasn’t that out of date though as there had been little development in the past 75 years, a fair bit of un-development had gone on, to buildings and bridges using Soviet made Tank and artillery, but there was still enough to navigate by.

 

The Dragon’s most economic cruising speed is at 1,000 feet. I need to stay low for navigation, to ensure I was as far away from the fighting before having to refuel and so that I could navigate by land marks. I figured that old red locks wouldn’t be crossing the border without a death wish and I might be safer north of it for the refuel. To add a bit more safety I settled on 2,500 feet, besides I could see a fair way from 2,500 feet and should see danger coming. I could go higher, at the cost of fuel and climb time, but it would still be hard to get out of the range of the AA gun I had seen. Better to stay at 2,500 feet and hope to use knap of the earth flying to put things between him and me if I need to.

 

 

The plan is to follow the White Nile north, across the border to Sudan, keep on the White Nile all the way to Khartoum. Simple. If only it were.

 

 

 

My proposed route!

 

If you study my proposed route hard, you will notice the map has an abundance or words such as Fighting, Bombing and the like, a nasty civil war to be sure. It seemed that the worst bit would be, well most of it, but given the delays I had had so far I should be on the lookout about one hundred miles out of Juba, this being the roughly the distance redhead’s technical could get ahead of me. If I made it safely beyond that, I doubt he would get me on this leg. Someone else might though.

 

 

Engine start; finally on our way

 

Eventually my turn came to take off, and so I started the engines one by one.  They coughed in to life and soon settled down into a steady rhythm. The four minute warm up seemed to take forever, but soon I was taxiing out to the runway   Take off was smooth and I soon found myself enjoying flying this old bird.

 

 

Takeoff; a lovely old aircraft to fly.

 

I climbed to 2,500 feet over the town of Juba, thinking nobody would have a pop at me so near to the airport. A correct assumption as I reached 2,500 feet without incident. I turned northwards with my heart in my mouth.

 

 

The White Nile. My route out of here.

 

I picked up the White Nile quickly enough, it’s hard to miss, even this far from its mouth it is a big river. I settled in to follow it north towards Khartoum.  I had just passed HSBR (Bor Airfield) my last South Sudanese airfield  before the boarded but still only a third the way there when it all went pear shaped.

 

 

Pretty black clouds? I don’t thinks so.

 

The first sign of trouble was the small black clouds.  I am sure they weren’t there a minuet ago, how strange. And then one appeared very close to the aircraft and was accompanied by a violent push to the airframe. As this happened there was a clattering sound from the starboard engine and it abruptly stopped. An instrument check confirmed this. 

 

 

Instrument check: No RPM on one engine.

 

Then it finally dawned on me that I was being shot at by an anti-aircraft fire. I automatically shutdown the starboard engine using the engine failure checklist, not a great idea given my predicament, I needed to make myself a harder target and I needed to do it now!  Another salvo fire screamed up at me as I banked hard to the right and into the stopped engine, just in time to prevent myself from sharing the same air space with an exploding Ack-Ack shell. I was starting to lose speed and was in a gentile dive thus making myself a larger and slower target.  Not a good idea. I rammed the good engine’s throttle as far forward as I could and put the nose down for more speed, thinking that being at ground level would make me a harder target.  Then just as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. I was clearly out of their arc of fire.

 

My cruise speed had been 132 MPH and on one engine all I could muster was 90 MPH. Good enough if I could keep it up as there was no way they could travel at that rate over the ground. I urgently needed to put down and assess the damage, but did not want to do it close enough to the ambush site and allow them to catch me up while I was on the ground.  I was under no illusion that would be fatal for me, never mind the baton and the ATWC. I needed to keep in the air as long as I could.  The aircraft was behaving well despite the additional strain on the remaining engine, I managed to crawl back up to 2,500 feet and cruise along at 90 mph.

 

 

Holes in the wing

 

 

… And an engine out

 

 

 

There was no sign of fuel or oil leakage, so I reckoned I could trust it to hold together for a while. There were no airfields between where I was and the border with Sudan. I needed the next best thing. I looked at my map and saw a small settlement called Adok about 40 miles north. Even better, the road to it came down from the north and so for my hunters the journey was much further. So what was 40 miles at 90 mph for me, was more like 120 miles at 40 mph for them. That should give me two hours on the ground and a half hour safety margin before they could catch me.  I decided to put down there and hope the locals weren’t in fighting mood. I landed, turned the aircraft into the wind for a speedy take off.  I then looked at the damage.  There were three holes in the wings and another in the fuselage. These were superficial and I could fix there with Gaffer Tape.  The fuselage hole was a bit scary, as another foot forward the red hot shrapnel would have hit the jerry cans. If that had happened, then goodnight sweetheart!  

 

 

Down at Adok, the good engine running – just in case

 

I hadn’t seen a fuel leak, but there must have been one the main fuel line to the engine had been severed, which was a problem. Just then I heard a pickup on the road. My first thoughts were that I was done for.  But it was not the redheaded brigade. The truck seemed unarmed, which was good, but could still have small arms on board. The vehicle stopped and a Sudanese man got out with an AK47 slung over his back.  He must have seen the worried look on my face as he quickly said “Hello boss, how are you” in heavily accented English and smiled widely.  Somewhat nonplussed by the situation, I did what any English man would have done: I replied “very well thank you, how do you do?” whilst extending my hand. The man shook my hand and introduced himself at the best mechanic in Adok!  I thought that there can’t be much competition, but thought it wise to keep that gem to myself. “Let me see the trouble” he said.  Hopping I could make this man my new best mate and that his AK47 might be useful when the redheaded brigade caught me up, I let him look at the engine.

 

He then repeated to me what I already knew. I had a broken fuel line. But then he added some words that made my heart sing, “I can fix sir.”  He hurried off to his pickup and returned with some fuel line and tools.  “My job sir, is to keep Technicals running” he explained.  Well I guess someone would have to do it. I added the fuel from the Jerry cans as now was as good a time as any, and I had lost a fair bit with the broken line. I also taped up the various holes.

 

All the fuel on board, I discarded the cans, and in half an hour my new mate pronounced the engine fixed.  “You try now sir, and if it go, you go. This very bad place.” I climbed in and started the engine. Second try it fired! “Go! Go!” said my friend, “I keep cans?” I shouted that he could and opened the throttles.  

 

 

On my way to Sudan. Smoke rising: Signs of fighting on the ground

 

I was in the air just as soon as I could be, and not a moment too late! There in the distance to the north was a dust plume on the road, my pursuers had been closing in on me quicker than I had calculated. I turned eastwards, away from them, climbed up to 2500 ft, found the Nile again and cruised towards my destination at 130 mph. All being well the redheaded man would not be able to catch me now. It was only then that I realised I didn’t even know what my saviours name was. I hope fate would be kind to him through the current troubles in Sudan.

 

I was approaching the boarder now, but was concerned about the fuel situation.  I had lost more fuel than I had margin for and now I had no reserves.  There were no airfields north of the border that I could see but there was one just to the south, at Malakal which was on the White Nile as well.  I knew I could get fuel here and as I had put a significant distance between my hunters and myself, I decided to put down and fill her up. 

 

 

Malakal (HSSM)

 

All was quiet when I had touched down, the airport staffed as if no fighting was going on. I quickly got her filled up and inspected the repaired fuel line.  All was good it seemed. I asked the airport ground staff about the fighting, and they said there had been some but it was further to the east.

 

 

Refueling at Malakal

 

 

Away from Malakal as soon as I could.

 

I was soon in the air again with full tanks which should get me to Khartoum with fuel to spare. The sun was getting low now and I was in danger of losing my bearings in the dark. I should land and continue in the morning, but I dare not as I has to assume that red head was still in pursuit.  

 

Khartoum was directly north, so I set course north and would navigate by dead reckoning.  I told myself that as there were very few lights below me, Khartoum should be easy to spot.

 

 

Sudan sunset

 

By the time the sun was fully set I reckoned I was over the border in Sudan. It was very dark, with only the odd camp fire twinkling in the black night. I ploughed on into the blackness and prayed that Khartoum didn't have a power cut.  

 

 

 

Khartoum in sight.

 

After just short of two and a half hours cloaked in the blackness that is Sudan at night, I saw the lights of Khartoum to my left, I gratefully turned towards them. 

 

 

On finals

 

Finding the airport was easy and I was soon on finals. Safely landed, I taxied to the terminal.

 

 

Safely parked up and looking for Kieran.

 

I secured the aircraft and headed to the terminal. I was keen to find Kieran as soon as possible to hand over the hot potato. Sorry, I meant the baton.

[mutley 4,487]

Never was so much owed by so many to so few..

You deserve a medal for that heroic flight JG, it was never our intention to put any lives in danger.

Please ask Micke for a a share of our 'special reserve'!

I really enjoyed your PIREP John, almost a books worth!

Cheers... Joe

[hifly 925]

Stirring stuff John, that's the spirit! Biggles eat your heart out. Nearly hit in the jerry cans, is that a euphemism?

 

And that clown following you around, maybe he's just going home to Sudan, a sort of Khartoum character.

 

A damn good read John.

[J G 927]

Love your comments Geoff. Khartoum character:- boom boom!

 

I am glad you found it entertaining - makes it all worth while!

[brett 2,284]

Thanks for saving our lives John, I owe you one.

 

Outstanding adventure you had there, glad I was safe in the UN's arms, although they sure do ask a lot of questions, especially about you in particular. I didn't tell them a thing.     Do they give out medals at the Hangar for heroism in the line of duty?

 

A fine read, thanks for the entertainment John.  I think you should get some R&R, maybe Bangkok for you and the little lady Liz. I'm sure she would love to meet all your friends there and finally find that pool party.     

 

 

[stu7708 244]

John, you keep outdoing your self with every pirep you post!

 

A real cracker once again!

 

Now get your gear together and get out of danger as soon as you can, leg 60 awaits you 

 

@Joe: I'm afraid I had to empty the bottle of 'special reserve' to get through midsummers eve here in Sweden.. I needed some induced strength in order to stand every one else imitating a frog while going around in circles around the great big phallic symbol that is our maypole  

 

Perhaps we could ask Brian to send John one of those Tartan onesies as a reward instead  

[J G 927]

 

Perhaps we could ask Brian to send John one of those Tartan onesies as a reward instead  

 

Its ok... Your alright.. no need to put your self out with the onesie. I have a leg to fly... best be off now.

[mutley 4,487]

Good luck John, just leave Ronald McDonald at home this time, he freaks me out! 

 

[hurricanemk1c 195]

Excellent leg there John!

[CSoul 182]

Great post. Really liked it.

 

It reminded me of a song by Syd Kitchen called Africa is Not For Sissies. This leg proved the point: when in Africa, pack sunscreen, shorts and as much heat as you can smuggle!