TO SAVE A PRINCE

Flight Journal, Oct 2004 by Gabella, W F "Bill"

A WHITE-KNUCKLE COPTER MISSION IN SAUDI ARABIA

Captain's Flight Log 1982

31/07/82 KV-107 No.06. RUH (RIYADH) LCL (Local) Remarks: S.E. Landgs & T.O.s, Basic IFR Total 2 hrs IP

31/07/82 KV-107 No.06 Two GCDA ACAD Grads. RUH Lcl Remarks : "Dollar Rides" Intro Tandem Rotors 2 Hr. IP

01/09/82 Remarks: Medevac injured Gov. of So. Province. Relayed to No. 06 at Al Hillah. No. 02 bingo fuel (no fuel en route).

01/08/82 KV-107 No. 02. AL Hillah to RUH. Return from Medevac to Empty Quarter. Total time: 6.6 hrs night, 1.0 day. Pilot in Command.

Preparing for a biennial, I riffled through pages of an old log, and these terse entries tumbled out. Wow! I could write a bestseller from these fragments that, after flying in Korea, interior and arctic Alaska and two combat tours in helicopters in Vietnam, didn't give a hint that the medevac mission into the Rub' al Khali would be a candidate for the toughest mission I had flown anywhere at anytime!

I was a member of an invisible "squadron" of ex-U.S. military aircrew that formed the Search & Rescue and firefighting arm of the Saudi Arabian General Civil Defense Agency (GCDA). A special mission we performed was to patrol Mecca during the annual pilgrimage (hajj). Originally, the GCDA had six Kawasaki KV-107 tandem rotor helicopters built under license from Boeing. The Boeing 107s were precursors of the U.S. CH-46s, which were so prominent in U.S. Navy operations in the Middle East. Basically a VFR bird, the only radio navigation aid was a low-frequency homer that was good for about 30 miles. Two birds each were based in Jiddah, Riyadh and Dhahran. While the ex-GIs were called soldiers of fortune by foreign military observers, the men preferred the term "gentlemen adventurers," as the missions were humanitarian in nature.

As a member of the "Riyadh mob" (a picturesque bunch whom the word "gang" dignifies too much), we were usually overworked and undermanned-short on pilots and air and ground crew. Saudi Arabia was a tough one-year contract in those days: no booze, no babes, no cabarets or theaters, and nothing but a couple of hours of "The Waltons" on TV at night. Were it not for the British Reading Library and advent of VHS videotape recorders, I would have gone bonkers!

The Wadi ad Dawasir

July 31 dawned bright and hot: it was my third day in a row as instructor pilot, and rescue pilot, if need be. I flew four students that day. I was relieved at the end of the day to refuel "old no. 06" and put it away in the hangar-a task delayed by a crew dragging out "not-so-good old no. 02" from the hangar.

"Bill!" I turned to confront the station manager (SM). "We have a hot medevac mission in the Southern Province. You have to go get him!"

"OK," I said. "Let me grab a quick sandwich and my flight kit; meanwhile, roll out old no. 06."

"Can't do that; it's in for scheduled maintenance. Take "no. 02." We changed the number-two engine today."

Suddenly my "warning" antennae were doing a wild lambada. It was time to get serious.

"OK; can I get Woody Whitaker as my flight engineer?"

The SM nodded and sent for him. Woody was retired U.S. Army Sergeant First Class (E-7) Woodrow W. Whitaker of Milton, Florida. He and his good buddy and neighbor, SFC Bill Boggess (Ret.), had been CH-47 flight engineers not only in Vietnam but also in Libya-a pair of fellow gentlemen adventurers. If Woody hadn't been available, I would gladly have taken Bill instead. After a quick shower and sandwich, I grabbed a case of Pepsi-Cola (for the caffeine), a gallon jug of water, a bottle of aspirin and a couple of oranges.

Fully loaded, I trundled to the flightline in a pickup. The sun-a huge red ball-was already edging toward the Western horizon.

A ground crew was putting the finishing touches on the installation of a giant 500-gallon internal auxiliary tank-an odd-shaped fiberglass tank that took up most of the copter's interior. We should have had about 8,000 pounds of fuel on board; this included the main tanks, the small auxiliary tanks plus the large auxiliary tank.

The SM and I had a final briefing with WAC (World Aeronautical) charts on the aft ramp. I had already done a rough "hack" on the wall map back in quarters. Give or take a few, it was a 400-statute-mile haul to the GCDA outpost at As Sulayyil. Wadi ad Dawasir is the name for the surrounding area, and I believe it means "stream of wizards or spirits." You didn't have to be Einstein to know that unless we could refuel en route, we might not make it back to Riyadh on our fuel load! What about refueling?

"There may be fuel at Al Badi, which has a military airstrip," the SM said, pointing to a spot about 100 miles north of our destination. "Don't expect any at the GCDA outpost; we've never sent a chopper there before."

No use asking about weather; that was classified military information. Never mind; I had my own sources. Once en route, I'd call a Saudi airliner on the ATC frequency and get what I needed. Thirty-one ways to skin a cat!

After the preflight with Woody, I observed our passengers. Along with a Saudi flight engineer trainee, we had a couple of other trainees onboard plus a trip stenographer, who listened in on all communication by headset and transcribed everything to a steno pad! This was standard procedure on all rescue/medevac missions. The student copilot was one of my students. His presence on an actual mission was a first; the new policy was we'd take a pilot trainee as a copilot to give him experience and confidence in his own abilities. I could have requested an American copilot because of the difficulties this medevac presented, but I didn't.