Across the North Atlantic in a C-47
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One of my first U.S. Air Force pilot assignments was flying C-47s at RAF Mildenhall, England, from 1963–1966 as a young 1st Lt. IP/FE. We flew the usual missions to bases throughout the UK, along with weekly trips to Wiesbaden, Germany, and other locations across Europe. All of this was managed by a cadre of four IP/FE pilots assigned to Base Operations. Our duties included scheduling and training for around thirty pilots and navigators who were required to fly 100 hours per year to maintain proficiency. These were rated officers with staff assignments at the base, along with pilots at other bases without assigned support aircraft.
Photo by Phyllis Lilienthal on Unsplash.
On one occasion, we were tasked with flying a C-47 from a USAF base in France to Miami, Florida, where it would be converted to an electronic version (EC-47) for use in Southeast Asia. My crew and I picked up the cargo-configured aircraft in France and flew it to England. Our next stop was RAF Lossiemouth in Scotland, followed by Reykjavik, Iceland, and then Sondrestrom Air Base in Greenland.
Flying over the Greenland ice cap at 11,000 feet was breathtakingly beautiful. We carried survival equipment including parachutes, a 20-man life raft, a survival radio, and other gear that would have been of little use had we gone down among the icebergs we could see below.
To reach Sondrestrom, we received radar vectors and flew up a fjord for about 20 miles before landing on the base’s uphill runway, with cliffs rising on either side. The runway was essentially a one-way street—landings uphill, takeoffs downhill in the opposite direction. There was high terrain at the end, and no room for a go-around.
During the post-flight inspection in Greenland, our mechanic discovered a large tear in one of the fabric-covered ailerons. The standard fix would have required removing the aileron and either repairing it on base or sending it out, followed by reinstallation and a test flight. That process would have taken at least two to three weeks.
Instead, we opted for a temporary—and most likely unauthorized—solution, knowing the aircraft was scheduled for a full inspection and repair (IRAN) in Miami. Our mechanic obtained a roll of heavy fabric tape from supply—dark green and about four inches wide (this was before duct tape). We carefully covered the torn area and smoothed the edges to minimize airflow disruption. It worked, and we completed the rest of the trip without further issues.
From Sondrestrom, we flew to Frobisher Bay, where we shot an NDB approach in challenging weather. For health reasons, all but the mechanic were required to remain on board during refueling. After a quick turnaround, we continued to Goose Bay, Labrador, then to Dow AFB in Maine, where we turned in our survival equipment. From there, we worked our way down the East Coast—Dover AFB, Delaware; Dobbins AFB, Georgia; and finally Miami.
My crew included another pilot, a navigator, a radio operator, and a mechanic. I describe the navigator as “ineffective” because he spent most of his time complaining, drinking excessively, and sleeping. In truth, the available navigational aids were sufficient without much help. I was a young 1st Lt., my copilot was a Captain, and the navigator was an older Major. Although I was the aircraft commander and responsible for all decisions, he assumed his rank put him in charge, and we clashed more than once.
At one stop, we gathered for drinks before dinner. The Major ordered his usual double martini and criticized us for not doing the same. I suspected he had already been drinking in the BOQ while we were working on the aileron. “You pilots are such wimps!” he declared.
When he stepped away, we struck a deal with the bartender to serve us drinks that looked like martinis but contained no gin. We then encouraged him to keep pace with us. The results were predictable. We watched—and laughed—as the evening unfolded. He paid for it the next day, while we felt just fine.
In any case, the trip was a success. We delivered the aircraft to Homestead AFB and turned it over for conversion. I only wish I had recorded the tail number so I could have followed its history. Eventually, we all made our way to McGuire AFB for a ride back to Mildenhall.
I loved flying the C-47. It was a forgiving airplane, and I always considered it a privilege to fly.
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Thanks, Ray. Good story!
Thanks Mike. I also flew our museums C47, Stinson Reliant and Huey.
What a great story! Love the part about the makor and the martinis!
Thanks.
Green fabric tape – In the AF we called it Typhoon Tape and in the airline we called it 600 mph Tape.
Ray,
Great story. I wonder, however, about the military logic of sending a C-47 for modification from Europe to Florida when likely there were hundreds available much closer in the US. Training value for sure. Personnel transport? Is there more to the story?