MECHANICS

There was a big difference between « them » and « us ».

They knew!

One cannot improvise being an aircraft mechanic and if, on occasions, we shared the tasks associated with fuelling a DC8, that was the end of it for me...

In addition to their own work, they could have offloaded an entire airplane without us, but most of us did not even know how a FCU (*) operated.

They had talent and an appetite for good food.

(A FCU -Fuel Control Unit on a modern jet engine. Only mechanics knew how it worked or why it did not... it takes talented men to find out WHY...)

A few of them were making a living at flying charters! They were the same breed as our charter flight crews, looking for adventure the Tiger way. How many men altogether? I could not say…not so many. Talent is a rare thing and I guess we had the best with us, who wanted to escape working shift in a hangar or may be boredom at conducting line maintenance in some station around the system. My situation in regards to Yves D. reminded me of the old steam railroad era when the engineer and the fireman were “coupled” together.

Indeed, no engineer would ever drive a train without his usual fireman and no fireman would ever work for a different engineer. Both of them were “married” to their locomotive and it was simply the way things ought to be.

(An aircraft mechanic...more and more women are (rightfully) now in the industry...)

( Airplane mechanic at major European carrier Air France / KLM)

Because we shared the same nationality, and we knew each other quite well, we often flew together. Yves had been a part of the French maintenance team in Orly and later in Charles-de-Gaulle. For a while, he had worked under the supervision of William C, an Irishman of character and moustache who had joined Seaboard World Airlines in the 60’s and always appreciated a “decent whisky”.

( Work is over, Yves has put his tie on, time to think about where "we" could find a seafood restaurant. On the back of the pic are the 3 berths of the B 747-100. Many nights, days, many flight hours were spent there between point "A" and point "B")

European operation required about twenty mechanics and when necessary, some of them were assigned “on loan” to cover charter missions. Bored with station life, Yves, who was pretty high on the seniority list had found a way to spend more time on the road than in Charles de Gaulle, and there was a good enough reason for this: CDG was more a “truck” operation now that transatlantic flights had been rerouted permanently to Brussels and Frankfurt, much closer to “the heart of Europe”. Yves had a passion for seafood, and wherever we would end up, between China and Timbuktu, from Billund to Freetown, Yves’ first quest would be for a restaurant serving mussels, clams or, even better, oysters. Needless to say, that he was often disappointed and would make up for this disappointment whenever we went through Hong-Kong where seafood was available of course.

(Engine change on a United aircraft)

Once the transit operation was over, and of course time permitting, we would explore together and go on a wild search for a decent eating place catering to Yves’s taste which was by then becoming an obsession! In fourteen years of load mastering, “we” never change an engine. In the same period of time, Yves and his colleagues regularly bitched when receiving a shower of “skydrol”, or realizing that the part they needed to fix the airplane was not on board. There was a big difference between a charter mechanic and a flight engineer! Our mechanics came from the line with thousand hours of experience on several types of airplane. Some of them had been exposed to all kind of situations at Tigers or when in service with their previous employers.

They were men of solutions. If a flight engineer would know the operation of the airplane from a “flight engineer standpoint" only, the mechanics knew not only the operation but also why the airplane, the engines, the hydraulic lines, would react in such or such way when in flight. I am pretty convinced that charter mechanics, and our mechanics in general knew much more about the aircrafts than most of the flight crew. Solving an issue in flight? they could do it and the mission could continue. If an issue surfaced during a trip, the mechanic would go and sit quietly with the MEL (**) book on his lap, looking for whatever paragraph supporting his point of view or whatever wiring diagram providing some kind of an explanation as to why such or such equipment in the cockpit was not functioning like it should.

(A mechanic' tool box...a complement to thee mechanic's own talent)

Every now and then, sitting around a table in a hotel, the five members of the same crew would share “war” stories: a difficult landing in a secluded airport of South-America, a “special trip” to Copenhagen under the dubious reason of buying three cases of engine oil as the SAS stock in Kastrup (A), losing an INU (**) in flight, an electrical fire on a PDU (***). Needless to say, that the oldest member of the flight crew had certainly a story connected to the Vietnam war, either as a military or a civilian pilot. I even knew some who flew for Air America, and, when came the time to go and catch a few hours of sleep, the stories would go on for hours and empty beer bottles or glasses lined up on the table.

If the flight crews were somehow entitled to so many hours of rest and so many hours of flight under FAA regulation and company’s agreement or pilot’s contract, mechanics and load masters were mostly “free” of their time. If what had to be done was time consuming, so what ?

The mechanics would fix sick airplanes, the load masters would take care of the rest but there was solidarity between us. To this date, I cannot remember of one single occasion when a mechanic would have gone to the hotel for a rest, leaving me alone on the airplane.

I often heard the expression: “who sweat together, stay together” slightly modified by some German mechanic during a difficult transit with a very sick airplane offloading system. As I was offering the gentleman the option of going to the hotel with the crew, he smartly answered “ Frenchie, I will stay! Who shit together, sweat together” and I simply loved that. Amongst the charter mechanic I flew along with, was a subdued German fellow who reminded me of a gentle leprechaun. Klaus H. He was fascinated with luxury watches and could talk endlessly about Piaget, Girard-Perregaux, and other high-class watches. There was also Patrick L....

He ended up marrying a girl met during mechanic relief in Iceland, and Pat M, another Irishman who never had a harsh word against life, even when life would become difficult and there was no “company approved” technical solution to fixing an airplane.

( Training manual for Lockheed "Constellation" . I would say that the craft on the cover is a 049 type...unsure)

( Lockheed "Constellation"...The Flying Tiger Line had a few of them of both types)

If the 9th Law of Murphy applied to Load Mastering ( …a good airplane with no log items left to sleep for a night, will wake up the next morning with at least one No-Go item discovered during pre-flight…) would ever threaten the rest of the mission, the charter mechanics would make a point of demonstrating their talent and bringing the airplane “ back to its senses”. Nearly thirty years after, I would say that all of them were gifted gentlemen, and were a proud part of the “charter days”, when experience and technical knowhow could make the difference between success and failure. Did I fly with twelve of fourteen of them, I could not say for it was so long ago. What I remember, however, is that, when reading the charter briefing before a mission and finding out who the mechanic would be, I knew right away if I would have a drinking buddy strong enough to drag me back from the hotel bar to my own bedroom.

(A recruiting poster : a good invitation to become an "Aviation Mechanic")