Chapter 18

(Authors Note: The following part of Laura’s flight in the Hawker Siddeley Buccaneer, will be an adaptation of the real procedures for operating the Aircraft. This is purely for the story and at no instance suggest that it is the real thing. There is much more involved to fly the Buccaneer.)

The morning started off cool. Not a cloud in the sky and the wind about zero. The leaves on the trees not moving. A wonderful day for an early morning romp through the sky. Laura wanted a ride in the Buccaneer. Today’s the day.

It was fun to get Laura dressed in a G-suit. I have about six different sizes available and Laura, not much taller than Tracy, was in between what I had on hand. Either too big or too small. We settled on the one a little too big. I don’t want Laura crushed as the suit filled on a hard manoeuvre.

Laura looked a picture, dressed in the G-suit, flight boots, gloves, and helmet. Again, like with Tracy, I had trouble in getting those honey-gold tresses into the helmet. With a lot of giggles and laughs we completed the task. Laura looking the part of a fighter pilot. Her “Detective Look” aviator sunglasses completing the picture.

With her “serious” face on, Laura drank in every word on the “Flight Briefing” and the lecture on the Type 6MSB Martin-Baker ejection seat. No giggles. No laughs. Serious Laura. I could picture her doing an arrest of a suspect. Professional and confident Laura. Oh! How I love this girl, nineteen years my junior.

The Buccaneer was out on the ramp. The FBO staff, trained on handling the Buccaneer, ready at all points around the aircraft. This was a thrill for them. Everyone had volunteered to be trained when I brought the old girl to the airport.

This was to them, and me, a part of history. And being an active member of a flying Buccaneer ground crew, an extra feather in their caps. That’s why these guys and one girl are absolute aviation nuts.

Time to mount up. Laura got helped into the back seat by the “Crew Boss.” I saw a little nervous smile flashed at me. I just smiled back and gave her an encouraging thumbs-up. Strapped in, Laura seems to be relaxing. She was looking at all the paraphernalia in the cockpit.

With the electrics alive, the radio, and intercom online, I could communicate with the Crew Chief and Laura. The Crew Chief, with his yellow and orange reflector jacket, stood about thirty meters away in plain sight of the cockpit, overseeing every aspect of the start-up procedure.

With the system checks all done, the engine start procedure came about. This required me to move a lever to my left, slightly behind my seat, forward, opening the fuel to engine one. Then I depressed a button to the back of the fuel lever.

I heard the whine as the engine first and second stage blowers and condensers started spinning. Rows of impellers started to move, spinning up to incredible revelations per minute. I watched intently the gauges respond to the engine spool up.

With an ear-splitting roar, the number one Rolls-Royce Spey engine blasted into life. The nose of the Buccaneer dipped down on the nose wheel oleo strut for a moment and then recovered. The bird slightly trembling. Repeat for number two engine. Time to test flight control surface controls. Chocks removed from the wheels. Park brake released.

A quick blast of throttle. The jet responded and surged forward. Hit the brakes. Jet stopped, dipping the nose. Okay Brakes work. Thumbs up to the Ground crew.

“Pilot to Chief. All systems a go. Crew to disengage. Thank you, Chief.” I said to the Crew Chief via the intercom plugged into the communications port on the side of the jet.

“Rodger Pilot. Chief copy all systems a go. Ground Crew to disengage. Good day Sir!” The Crew Chief acknowledged and walked towards the nose of the jet, rolling up his communications line as he went. He approached the jet, disconnected his communications line, and closed the communications hatch. The crew dispersed to a safe distance. Laura, me, and the jet were on our own.

Laura was briefed not to touch anything in the cockpit, sat with her gloved hands holding on to her harness. She was specifically briefed not to touch the radar controls; we don’t want to fry the Crew Chief when he stood in front of the aircraft.

We rolled off the ramp onto the short taxiway to runway 09. Turned right and rolled along runway 09 to the threshold. I lined the jet up with the centre line, holding short on the numbers.

Radio Call: Wonderboom traffic, Zulu Uniform Bravo Uniform Charley at Juliet Golf 09 for departure.” I transmitted. The radio broke squelch.

“Bravo Uniform Charley, Sierra Tango Uniform on circuits’ runway 29, Wonderboom. We’re heading your way.” Young female voice. Maybe a student.

“Tango Uniform, I’ll climb six, five, zero, zero, and early left on take-off. I’ll be out your way,” I said.

“Tango Uniform, thank you, Sir,” She said.

“Bravo uniform Charley, my pleasure, and thank YOU,” I said, leaving her to wonder why I thanked her.

“Laura. You ready back there?” I asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be Cap’n.” Laura said.

Canopy closed and locked. Release brakes, throttles open, half flaps. The Buccaneer picked its nose up and rolled down the runway, picking up speed with every metre it ran. At 145 KIAS I lifted the nose wheel off the runway. Three knots indicated airspeed later the Buccaneer rose off the tarmac as the main wheels unstuck. We shot off into the morning sky, the Buccaneer accelerated to 200 KIAS. This morning we lifted the 28 metric ton jet off in only 880 metre.

“Rolling left,” I said and banked the Buccaneer left, rolling the wings to 45 degrees. The G-suits responding to the sudden g-forces.

“Wee!” I heard from the back.

“You like it?”

“OH YES! This is fun!” Laura’s voice crackled through the headset. Excitement apparent.

“Rolling upright!” I said and straighten the wings as we overflew the airport after a 180-degree turn, climbing to 6500 ft AGL. About ninety seconds later I levelled off at 6500. The morning sun slightly behind us. The Magaliesberg mountain range to our left and slightly below us.

“How you’re doing back there?” I asked.

“Wanna play Top Gun, Cap’n!” Came the replay from Laura.

“You’re on Sweetheart,” I exclaimed and said, “Rolling inverted. GO!” I said, and on the word “go” I rolled the Buccaneer upside down with a flick on the stick. Suddenly the sky’s gone, replaced by looking UP at the ground.

“Wee!” Came from the back. I kept the Buccaneer inverted for another forty seconds, then:

“Rolling upright. Go!” And rolled.

“This is GREAT fun!” Laura said.

“You up for a barrel roll to the right?” I asked.

“Let’s do it!” Laura obviously having fun.

“Okay. Rolling right. Go” I said, holding the nose slightly above the horizon and flicking the stick right. A slight left rudder as to keep the nose on the horizon. The Buccaneer responded by rolling right, fast! “One ... Two ... Three ... And ... Four. Rolling upright. Stable.” I said as the Buccaneer came around its axis the fourth time, I halted the roll with stick movement and rudder input, and we were stable. Airspeed 250 KIAS.

“Holy Shit! It’s like being inside a tumble dryer!” Laura said and giggled. By this time, we were fast approaching Rustenburg.

“Okay Sweetie Pie, Let’s do a loop. Are you okay?” I asked.

“Trying to get all my intestines to the correct places.” Giggle. “Okay, lay it on Buster!”

“Into the loop. Go!” I said, pulling the stick back. Concentrating on the climb, playing the throttle. Keeping the wings level with stick input. As the airspeed dropped, I increased throttle. Going over the top at 210 KIAS. Altitude 9500. G-forces inflating the G-suits to keep us from blacking out. Inverted going down. Airspeed increasing. Throttle back. Going down vertical. The ground coming up fast. Air brake at 20%. Keeping back pressure on the stick. Stick input to keep the wings level. Nose lifting to meet the horizon.

The Buccaneer came level at 6500 ft AGL. At 300 KIAS, entry and exit at the same altitude. I felt a little shudder in the airframe. I’ve hit my own wake turbulence. Good! Aircraft riding the turbulence, wings wiggling, nose lifting, correcting, fast.

“WOW! Just WOW! Now I really need to get my intestines back in place!” Laura exclaimed. “We gonna do it again, Cap’n?”

“You want to do it again?” I asked.

Giggle. “Tracy was right! It’s better than sex!” Laura said.

“I didn’t do all this with Tracy! How can she compare it to sex,” I asked?

“I can ... show you ... evidence! I need dry panties! Mines a little damp!” Giggle. Laura said. My only response:

“Okay ... Let’s do some touch and goes...” I kept an eye on the fuel gauges and the speed to 500 KIAS. In the distance, I could see runway 09 shimmering in the early morning light. I increased the throttle.

Descending to 200 feet over the runway, doing 500 KIAS, (575 Mph or 926 Km/h or 0.75 Mach) we did a low-level high-speed fly past. Near the end of the runway, I pulled up in a 4.8 G climb for 8500 feet, rolling left, air brake out 25 % for bleeding off speed, and a 180-degree turn.

“Wee!” Came from the back seat. “I just left my tummy on the runway! You just spoiled roller-coaster rides for me ... forever!”

“Ah, gee, and I thought I could take you to the Fun Park this afternoon,” I said.

“Nope! You just keep on flying me in this sky-horsey of yours,” Laura said.

We came around to runway 09 and approached at 180 KIAS, from 3 kilometres out. By using the wing bleed air system, or “blower,” to keep us flying, I slowed to 140 KIAS. Touched down. Accelerated to 160 KIAS, using all 11,000-pounds of thrust, and flew off. Repeat four times. On the last touchdown, we stuck and stayed on the runway, braking to a stop. Taxi back to the ramp and unmounted.

High on excitement and with rubbery legs, Laura got out the back cockpit and was helped down by the Crew Chief. She took a moment to acclimatise with being back on solid ground, helped out of her helmet by the lady ground crew member. Slightly trembling as the adrenaline level was still high.

I dismounted after securing the aircraft. As I was hitting the ramp, Laura did a run over to me and jumped up. Arms going over my neck and legs around my waist. I nearly lost my balance but recovered and grabbed hold of Laura around her waist. Twirling us around. I got kissed right there on the ramp with the rest of the ground crew standing by with silly grins on their faces.

“Ah, gee! Look how happy we made her.” The lady ground crew member said.

“Wow! Just Wow!” Ice blue eyes boring into mine. “When can we go again?”

“Okay, you just had a thirty-five thousand Rand ride and you want to go again?” I asked smiling broadly. Laura slowly slid off my waist. Standing there shyly.

“What? What did you say? Thirty-five thousand Rand for ... for ... riding in that jet?” Laura said.

“Oh, Come on Boss! For her, I’ll be up the whole day!” The Crew Chief said.

“Yeah! It’s not like she’s not worth it!” Sue, the lady crew member added.

“Oh, come on guys,” I said. “For her, I’ll do it again ... and again ... and again.” Laura perked up.

“I didn’t think it cost that much. I’ve got some saving to do. I mean ... I want to go again, but ... not right now ... Later. Still need to get all my parts together. Gee whiz, what-ta ride!” Laura said smiling broadly.

“I fly this bird at least once a month. You’re welcome to join. And then there are air shows...” I said smiling. “The air shows pay for ALL of us! Keeps us flying and in business.”

“Can I join the Crew?” A happy Laura asked.

“Well, between you and that little redhead the other day ... We need back-seaters...” The Crew Boss spoke up. “Besides, look at us, we don’t fit into that little cockpit so well any more...” Truth be told. They all are a little round and don’t fit so well into G-suits, or the cockpit.

“Now you’re in for it, Laura! You just got offered a Navigation Officers Seat by the Crew Boss. You up for it?”

“I think I need to brush up on my map reading stuff. This ain’t the little GARMIN NUVI in my car!” Laura said, brushing that blond hair over her shoulders and out her eyes. We all laughed.

(Author Note: REAL LIFE: Sadly, the Buccaneer playing in this story is no more. She was delivered To the SAAF on 5 August 1966. On 14 October 1970 near “De Wet Bombing Range”, Bloemfontein, Free State, she was lost due to a parachute malfunction on a retarded bomb. The bomb exploded under the aircraft, setting it on fire. The accident occurred during a low level ‘retarded bomb’ sortie. The Navigator survived, skidding on his side still in his seat for a considerable distance. The Pilot was killed, as by the time his seat functioned, the aircraft was virtually inverted, and he was fired straight into the ground.)

We, Laura, and I got back to the farm around 11 AM. Laura felt a little tired. G-forces, you know. She was not used to the G-forces. While she went for a shower, I felt the coffee RDA dropping beyond optimal, so I started up the coffee maker. My phone buzzed. Joe.

“Hey Bro! What sup,” I said.

“Hi, you. Just thought I’d update you ... Okay ... I’m going to say it. GOOD news.”

“Okay ... Where’s the BAD news?”

“You decide,” Joe said. “We got old Alex in custody. Got him by the truck. Say, what do we do with the truck?”

“Evidence?” I asked.

“Nope!” Joe said.

“Okay ... Donate it to a worthy cause,” I said.

“WITH the cargo... ?” Joe said and I detected a little smile in his voice.

“Oh! Yeah ... The CARGO. Okay, the mannequins are fine, but the boxes? Shit, what do we do with that?” I asked.

“I’ll think of something ... Got an informant ... at the local Cathouse ... She might come up with something...” Joe said, and I thought of the ‘Cathouse’ and ‘come up’ in the same phrase. I smiled.

“Okay. Where were we? Oh, yes, Ludwig has skipped the country. Left late last night on a Lufthansa flight to Frankfort.” Joe continued. “We rounded up his other cronies he had left in Gordons Bay and Durbanville.”

“So, what now?” I asked.

“You can get the girls back here. Not Cape Town. Let them come here. I’ve got a place in Erasmia that will look after them.” Joe said.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I said.

“Course you do...” Joe said somewhat subdued.

“Let’s take them to Sandton. There’s a nice place on about nine acres of land, with a pool,” I said.

“And you keep on coughing up! No way. They’re witnesses. The State will take care of them.” Joe said.

“Come on Joe! I know the type of grub that the State dishes out! Been there. Done it. Seen the movie. Got the DVD and the bloody t-shirt. Let’s be nice to them. They deserve it,” I said.

“Who’s to look after them?” Joe asked.

“I might know a Mum and a Dad that might be interested, even after things get finalised,” I said.

“There’s gonna be seven of them. Three gets to go back home.” Joe said.

“Six!” I said, “Tracy stays with us.”

“Who’s US?” Joe asked.

“Laura and me... , “ I said.

“So, you gonna steal her away from me after all?” Joe sighed.

“You can be my Best-man... , “ I said.

“Yeah ... We’ll see. She still has to say, YES!” Joe said. “Let me get back to the salt-mine ... Go, get the witnesses here, Sandton, Erasmia, whatever...” Joe disconnected.

I called Charley. Got them to pack up and depart for Sandton. I then called the security company to arrange to have someone available with the Sandton house keys, awaiting the arrival of the wolf pack. Now, to rattle another world. I called Andre.

Laura caught the smell of the coffee brewing in the kitchen. I went to the kitchen to find Laura already busy with sandwiches for lunch. She found some pastrami in the fridge. A very tasty sandwich was taking shape. I poured us each a mug of coffee.

Laura, dressed in her “Laura Togs,” of t-shirt, jeans, and athletic shoes. The honey gold tresses, now in two very sexy ponytails, one on each side of her head, behind her ears.