Chalk and Cheese

During my time as a line-chief on Dakotas, (C47`s) I met a variety of pilots. Some good, some very good and some indifferent. Our job was to air freight spares around the U.K. to whichever base needed a new engine, stocks of tyred (tired!) wheels or what have you. And bring back the old ones.
In the flight office one afternoon, Robbie, my sidekick said "Come and have a look at this". There, faraway, but discernable because it was aginst the sun, was a Dakota standing on its tail. It stalled away and then tried again (to loop) without success.
Ten minutes later in came Jolly Jack, the pilot, to sign off. He was a P3. A senior Non-Com pilot with lots of hours. "What were you trying to do Jack" we asked. "Could you see me? I thought I was too far away. Well I was trying to loop it actually" "What with that spare engine lashed down in the back, you would have ripped the floor out." "I had forgotten about that" said Jack.
Early the next Saturday as a ground mist still lay across the airfield, I was obliged to fly to our home base near Cambridge, some half-hour flying time across East Anglia. The forecast was that any mist at Cambridge would have burnt off by our arrival time. We climbed through the mist to a clear morning.
Three of us. Pilot Jack, wireless operator, and myself in the co-pilot`s seat. The first task was to tune in to the BBC light music programme to suit the mood.
"Lets have some fun" said irrepressible Jack. So down through the mist we dived until fir tree tops were passing just beneath our wings. Fortunately East Anglia is notoriously flat. Suddenly a brick-built Regency type country house loomed up straight before us. I can still see the clock face in its tower as we headed for the bedroom windows.
Jack hauled the DC3 up an over its roof. "They will not have got our number" he said. Maybe not,but they would all have fallen out of bed in shock at the sudden deafening noise.
On the same unit was a Flight Lieutenant pilot. I don`t know his history but there was definitely something wrong. First he would scrutinise the aircraft log-book, page by page. reading it past history of repair and rectificaation. Assess the total number of flying-hours aginst next major inspection. Check that the day`s daily inspection certification has been signed by all relevant tradesmen, radio man, engine fitter, eletrician, airfame mechanic and supervising Non-Com. Only when satisfied would he walk out to the `plane. To spend ten minutes walking around it, checking everything visually checkable.
Onece in the pilots seat, if it did not start up at the second attempt he would be off like a rebbit, to declare it unserviceable. Those unfortunate enough to fly with him said he was white-knuckled at take-off.
This guy should not have been flying. he should have declared himself physically (or mentally) unfit. Or his boss should have done it for him if he had been on the ball.
Ot the two pilots I would prefer "Jolly Jack" any day. I wonder if he was worse at night under a full moon?
"Kiwi", the New Zealand pilot, returning to base one day said both engines had cut out, one after another. He became a glider. Whilst looking around for a suitable field to make an emergency landing, both engines roared back into life.
I never did find any logical reason for this strange behaviour. Strange because both engines operate from seperate fuel systems. Unlikely to be water in the fuel as each wing tank has a little brass tap to drain off water that condenses in the tank. These are drained daily, more than once usually as the lads found it a convenient way of washing heavy grease from their hands. Ignition failure? What both together? Again separate systems.