The BN Islander on Station

I recalled the day I have bought the stuff at P75 at the rows of souvenir shops outside Cotabato Airport on the first day of my flight mission in the south. I have just done my first breakfast at the place on a food stall outside the airport with the crew chief and the pilots and even availed of the command pilot’s generosity of a cup of halo-halo for dessert, too late to have succumb to the ill effects of gluttony when I realized the chemical reaction drawing out air from my stomach at multiple bursts. So while I was on the wait at the tailoring as the command pilot was having the holes and splits on his flying suit sewn, the stuff hanging on the display caught my attention. Right then and there, its place on my neck was just at the right place at the right time. I haven’t had any bloody encounter like the typical soldiers who have seen action at the dreaded place donning it with the uniform. How it matched my worn out flying suit however when I have worn it in flight was quite a miracle. And what’s more, how I managed to find a comforting place at the airport to take out the contamination on my stomach before we took off to return at station must be another blessing. If the black color does have the property to draw in anything negative then I wouldn’t have made it home at station with clean pants if I had been a casualty on board an aircraft not equipped with a lavatory.  

Cotabato Airport

 We took off at around 0710H in the morning for the second try about an hour and a half late on our indicated departure at the itinerary. The silhouette of Zamboanga Airport  with  its  control tower slid past my view as we gained altitude along runway 09-27 and I have made a sigh to have been freed from the confines of the surface while the rest of the Vinta City remained asleep. On the first try, a magneto drop on the left engine prompted  PINSP LARRY C ALFONSO the command pilot to turn back and we we’re required to troubleshoot the cause. Opening the engine cowling and removing three spark plugs on the engine while it started to rain was quite a job to do. I was having trouble with my sneezing owing to a runny nose covering my head with the scarf and I am quite unfit for action but I managed to lend a hand somehow. After brushing the tip of the park plugs with  100LL gas and scraping the carbon deposit , we made to put them back in place and return the cowling. The slight rains stopped after we have put back everything in place. The test run proved satisfactory so we finally taxied the second time around allowing me to be lost in thought while we headed for our destination at cruising altitude. I was seated on the backseat of the aircraft while the senior mechanic took the second row of seats behind the pilot. I felt my back soaked in cold as we climbed at altitude thus I reached out for my bag to replace my damp shirt and I was relieved from the near outbreak of hypothermia. We were on the wake watching and listening to the twin Avco Lycomings spinning two bladed propellers humming in protest at 9,500 ft altitude. It’s my 3rd   day on the mission and if not for the onslaught of colds everything would have gone smoothly. We were set to ferry two drums of fuel to Cotabato Airport to support the airlift operations of the unit. A Cessna 421 unit aircraft, which ferried me to the station 2 days that passed remained on standby at the airport to support the arrival of the Chief, hence, the need for additional fuel. My runny noose is still oozing out as I was seated on the cushioned seat with a bit load in my head. My ears activating with a buzz in rhythm to the clicking of the two drums lying on the aircraft’s matting as we descend and ascend in altitude adjusting to the wind. Sitting in front of two drums of AVGAS 100LL fuel brings to mind the life of an average astronaut. Picture a space traveler clad in spacesuit sitting on a rocket ship with an average 526,000 gallons of liquid hydrogen on an external tank (the size of Cebu Pacific’s DC-9) fed into 3 main rocket engines blazing at altitude that may blow up anytime before it could even orbit the moon. The Challenger met that fate in 1986 along with its 7-man crew. There’s the glamour in wearing a spacesuit with the privilege to be exempted to pay taxes on a mission to the moon outside the jurisdiction of a regulating body. I’m thankful that my job doesn’t require me to sit in front of a pool of highly flammable fuel in exchange for that however. Instead I’m merely seated in front of two drums of sealed fuel, which assures me of a ticket back to the surface to return to my boring life. A 4-man crew twin-engined aircraft maybe a less sophisticated machine than any average spaceship but is a far safer vehicle at any rate. Maybe then, only the pain of clogged eardrums comes as my only embarrassment. This aircraft is not pressurized.