SOJOURN IN MEHRABAD Part 1.

By Kevin Hutchinson.Armourer.


In the summer of 1961 92 Squadron's ground crew were advised that the Blue Diamonds would be going to the Middle East. With it came information that the team members were to be measured for tailor-made khaki drill jackets and slacks so that we should look our best. To have this done we would be have to go to RAF Hereford, and we would be going by train.

My main memory of this process was waiting on the platform of Pontefract railway station for most of a night waiting for a connecting train. It was bitterly cold. Eventually we reached RAF Hereford and we were ushered into a wooden transit hut which, although it had beds it had no bedding. There was a solid fuel stove in the middle of the room but it was unlit and there was no fuel for it. It was still bitterly cold. Nevertheless, we managed to get some heat out of the stove before we were summoned to the tailor's shop. Did I mention that the hut was made of wood?

The tailor was efficiency personified. With a practised eye he quickly assessed each of our heights and builds, and shouted out arcane formulae in the manner "Seven jacket and five trousers," whereupon his assistant quickly grasped appropriate garments from the racks behind him and thrust them across to us. We changed into these clothes trying not to bang elbows with our colleagues in the small space available to us. It is a measure of the tailor's mastery of his art that no adjustments needed to be done. In the afternoon we made our way back to Leconfield.

The first stop on our journey to the Middle East was at Nicosia. We stayed there for several days. Some practice sorties were flown but, so far as we were concerned there was little excitement. Our main entertainment was back in the transit billet watching large flying insects bumping into the blades of the ceiling fans. We did coach trips to various places, notable of which was to the beautiful coastal resort of Kyrenia (which is somewhat more difficult to visit these days, since the Partition of the island after the Turks invaded in 1974).

Another visit was to Keo's brewery/distillery at Limassol for a guided tour. But the staff had chosen that day to have a holiday! The SNCO who had arranged the trip only narrowly avoided the traditional RAF stigma awarded to those failing to succeed in this kind of activity, as a small group of brewery maintenance men who were working on the site cheerfully showed us around the plant, and probably gave us an experience better than a normal tour. Nonetheless, the Flight Sergeant was made aware of his close escape.

While the pilots flew their Hunters, the ground crews' journey to Mehrabad, Teheran's main airport, was by Hastings aircraft, with everyone staging through Diyarbakir in southern Turkey. A Canberra did the navigation for the Hunters. One notable experience at Diyarbakir was that the bottled liquid refreshment we were given there seemed to have algae floating about in it. This might have been a speciality of the region, but we drank it nonetheless, straining the stuff out with our teeth.

The journey from Dyarbakir to Mehrabad was notable in the spectacular scenery we flew over: mountainous in the extreme, but beautiful in its variety of colours. I'm sure we all hoped our aircraft would stay serviceable. It did.

On arrival at Mehrabad, we were taken by a coach to the hotel we were to use. The main part of the journey used a wide dual carriageway. I remember thinking: "Oh, they drive on the right here, and oh, they overtake on the right also, how quaint. Oh, they overtake on the left, too," Quickly I became aware that there were few rules of the road, if any. At one crossroads we negotiated, whether or not there were traffic lights was irrelevant, it was like watching the Royal Signals motorcycle display team in action, but chaotic in the extreme. On that one journey I saw three traffic accidents.

The following morning a coach returned us to the airport to start work. The Hunters were parked on the south side of the airport and we needed to cross the runway to get there. We experienced an amazing spectacle while doing so: The coach had to stop because a Boeing 707 was about to start its take-off roll. It was held, however, because a dog was playing around on the runway in front of it. It was not on a lead and its presumed owner was standing off the side of the runway. Within seconds a jeep drew up and out stepped a senior officer, all brass and lanyards, who drew out a pistol and shot the dog. Then, turning to the man, he shouted something unintelligible to us, and chased him towards the terminal building aiming kicks at his backside at every other stride. The excitement over, the Boeing took off and we went to work. I've forgotten where the dog lay.

Our work with the Hunters was pretty straightforward. We got to know where everything was and there was no excitement. We had a few guards looking after us, and despite the language difference we somehow managed to communicate with them. They were national servicemen and wore army-style fatigues and their weapons were, so far as I can recall, M1 Garands. Some of their garments were neatly patched. Generally, they were very agreeable characters. Although the work they did was very simple and routine, they apparently spent a substantial amount of time, when not on guard, being educated. I thought this was a brilliant idea and my opinion of the Shah was reinforced.

We were very pleased that in a nearby building there was a Coca-Cola machine, and because of the heat we made regular use of it. But it was very sobering to learn that the price we were paying for each bottle was more than one of those national servicemen made in a month!

We enjoyed seeing the aerobatics, of course, but generally we were comparing the performance of the other teams with that of our own. One thing of interest was to see the American team's F100 Super Sabres. Apart from being liberally sprinkled with stars, a few of them had their tails blackened with soot, caused by flying very close to the aircraft in front. That was impressive. We saw that the Blue Diamonds were superb, as usual.

During the few weeks prior to this tour, back in the UK, the team on a couple of occasions tried out a new manoeuvre, known by us as "Threading the Needle". This was a fearsome experience which depended mainly on good luck regardless of the skills of the pilots. In it, the pilots flew their aircraft into an equi-spaced circle about one mile diameter, then, on a signal, would turn inwards simultaneously, the objective being for each aircraft to fly over the centre of the circle at the same time. Needless to say, each aircraft had to be at a different height to any of the others. In my opinion it was close to lunacy. Well, during the event at Mehrabad, the Iranian Golden Crown team in their F86 Sabres performed earlier than the Blue Diamonds, and they threaded the needle. Now, although the crossover was done in a split-second, in my view it was done perfectly. The Blue Diamonds did not bother to try the manoeuvre. To my knowledge they never tried it again. (The Red Arrows did it with their Gnats, calling it "Picadilly Circus" - on 19 Jun '77 I was in the back seat of No.8, piloted by Flt Lt Richie Thomas, when they performed it at Church Fenton; real scary stuff!!! Brian.)

When all the celebrations were complete, we packed up and headed back to Nicosia, once again via Dyarbakir and, eventually, we hoped, home.

To be continued.



Images:

Super Sabres, UTube

92 Sqn Hunters, pinterest.com