Wally's tales

Every other day we view on our TV screens, News Reporters, all with bated breath, telling us about some ‘Ferals’ who have stolen a vehicle, and has been the subject of an exciting ‘illegal’ pursuit by the police. How wrong the police action is. Should this chase result in an accident and some perpetrators get hurt all hell breaks forth.(Further more, they never seem to want to use their own vehicles for these capers). Perhaps they have carried out some naughty mischief with a vehicle (stolen), or fleeing from a robbery which has initiated Police attention. As in the past, the resulting chase has ended with someone being killed, or maybe just maimed, when the police went into their ‘Hot Pursuit’ Scenario. You are not allowed to do this in New Zealand, according to the ‘Political Correct’ popular opinion.

The bandits are very well aware of this ruling, and are playing on our current system of rules. They know that the Head Office will call off the chase, sooner, rather than later, under the pretext, that the public are being endangered. Worse, the political ‘fall out’ is against any Police action. When the Bad Guys are killed or injured, it’s suddenly all turned around, and now it’s now the fault of the police. Who dreamt up this nonsense? Possibly some defence lawyer who senses that he can bring an action for a financial compensation. And of course from which, he will skim a sizeable fee. What a lot of nonsense. They by these acts of stupidity, they have endangered all other road users, with them not being followed they possibly stand a good chance of getting away with their senseless act. As well, be around to do it all again another day. If caught, they then have the gall to make capital out of their action, blaming the Police pursuit, aided of course by the media, and the bleeding heart brigade all looking for compensation. My attitude is that the Police should chase them until they are run into the ground, and are caught. Should they loose control, and are killed, too bad, they should have stopped when they first heard the siren and saw the flashing lights.

In case you are thinking I’m alone with my attitude. I’m not, most other countries will mount an orchestrated pursuit to catch these law breakers. Some even have set up special units and cars for just this purpose.

I don’t know who dreamt up these biased rules in New Zealand. But they all seem to be slanted in favour of the criminal. I read the other day where a chap had some sixteen convictions for driving while drunk. It begs the question, ‘What’s he doing out of jail, still driving around endangering other road users?’ As well, when he comes before the court his previous convictions are then hidden from the Jury and court. There is some very bent logic at work here. It’s not fair they cry, to disclose their ‘previous’. I afraid I see it completely different, and from the other side. Their ‘previous’ should they have one, should be allowed, and displayed. If it’s a matter of public record, it must be available to all concerned, and on the table.

Another thing that annoys me, and that is the constant suppression of their names. This is too freely given by a weak judiciary, this really is part of the penalty, of being named and shamed, for goodness sake. Two weeks suspension of publication of a name so the ‘perp’s’ can advise his family. Where do they live, on the moon?

While we are on the case for concessions, parole seems to be given as of a right. Too many people have been granted this facility, some have then continued to carry on with their criminal behaviour while out on the streets. Even in a couple of cases they have committed Murder. Why not, it’s their chosen way of life.

I touched on the defence of these criminals, too many lawyers are making large sums of money from this scheme, millions in fact. It’s now time to do away with this scheme and set up a Public Defender’s Office. It’s not new, it what’s available in most other countries. Well that’s enough of my ranting for this week.

In town the other day in town I was confronted by a couple of Muslim Women, (I can only assume they were Muslim Women) as they were covered head to toe by a heavy grey gowns. To see out of this draped covering, there was a small lattice for the eyes, and a similar device for the mouth or nose, but breathing must still have been difficult. Where do these people come from? For all the world one looked like she was related to ‘Darth Vader’ in grey from Star Wars. Anyway, are they part of immigration’s department new asylum seekers intake? If they expect these people to integrate with New Zealand’s average citizen, they have another think coming. I can assure you that this will never happen in a hundred years. They have brought along with them the worst aspects and trappings of their former life, probably even what they were escaping from. We are used to seeing more common and modest display of deference to Allah here from many of women of Arabian countries. All wearing a head covering or scarf, sometimes, as well a small veil draped and covering their mouth and lips, when on our daily excursions into the outdoors. Many of these would be students, as there are several hundred of these and would encompass most Asian groups.

I suppose we too have forms of extreme religious display nearer to home. On leaving the Super Market the other day I was confronted by some young folk, parked in a ‘disability park’, close to the entrance where they could attract maximum attention. Their only disability in my mind, was in their head. They had badly painted their car a stark white, possibly with a six inch brush. Then they painted all over it, religious messages at least a foot high, in an iridescent green paint, ‘Jesus Lives’ ‘God is great’. Further, our regular door knockers are at it again too. I had another taste with a visit from eight or nine folk this week, all trying to sell/give, me a copy of their Watchtower magazine. I’m not sure if their effort is to make them feel good, or just to save me. I was polite to them, but handed out my message that I wasn’t interested in any doorstep evangelism.

Our immigration Department seem to have a very ambivalent attitude towards new arrivals these days, and their various religions, and the restrictions of how it is applied to their women. My thoughts are that we are only making trouble for ourselves in the future by this attitude and from past experience, they tend to live in enclaves. More annoying and dangerous, is the fact that they are not being screened for diseases that are endemic in their former home Countries. Most of these diseases were brought under control here a long time ago, and we have forgotten that they are still rampant in other parts of the world, and just how dangerous some are. Tuberculosis is one that has popped up again, and it is being traced to recent immigrants, and in a more virulent form too. It’s so long ago that we worried about this disease that all our Sanatoriums have now been closed, or have been moth balled.

I have been interested in the figures just released from the recent census of the ethnic grouping regarding Auckland’s plan to weld it into a Super City. The ‘Tangata Whenua’ (Maoris) are badly loosing ground to Asians who are now the most populous group. What has happened to the Maoris? Well, many have crossed over and married into the European race and become ‘White’ by default, but they can’t have it both ways. By this I mean they can’t expect to be allocated three ‘Special’ seats they are demanding as of right.

I mentioned one huge advantage was that we actually knew everyone living around us, and as well their extended families too either by contact when commuting, or when we joined the many Clubs each small place seemed to have in abundance. Our own nine hole golf course was never crowded, admittedly it also ran sheep on the common ground to keep fees low, but the greens were fenced off and clean. Badminton courts, tennis and squash courts, swimming pool, all were always available, and the list goes on, and seems endless. I was told, but never counted them up, that Milton was supposed to have some 200 clubs. So we missed out in nothing. Of course there was always the Hunting and Gathering ability, and right at your back door. You could collect field mushrooms by the butchers basket on the nearby hills, keeping only the freshest and best. This was of course in the days before top dressing became universal, which seems to have had an effect on that abundant supply that we used to get. Nearby creeks contained trout, white bait in season, fresh water crayfish, eels. As well, there were blackberries for the picking, old but now abandoned fruit trees, planted by settlers long gone, gave free fruit for he taking if you knew where to look, and of course, not forgetting game and wild duck.

One rural place we lived at our mail was delivered by a system called ‘Rural Post’. Our mailman was an absolute joy, and he put all other delivery methods to shame. Should we wish for a parcel from town, not a problem, if you were quick smart getting your order in, same day service too. Or perhaps a case of fruit in season, not a problem either. Our rural delivery man would even wait until the price was right, then you would find your fruit and invoice at your door. One ‘do gooder’ neighbour tried to tell me when they were agitating to do away with this Rural Service, it was for the better. My reply was, the Postman didn’t deliver your bread, daily paper, and a myriad other small tasks for a very small cost. As well as an added bonus, pick up your out going mail while passing as well. A march into the future meant you were stuck with this irksome task and now had to take outward mail to the nearest mail box.

Of course there was a down side, that was from time to time you were expected to turn out for Working Bees. Being such a small town there were no ‘hand outs’ and if you wanted some improvements to your club, you had to get up and do it yourselves. I even enjoyed this side of small town life, and the working with other club members. Our Gun Club, we built from scratch, everything including the Club House. Various members always had specialist skills, whether it be finance, construction, not forgetting farmers who were always very practical people. The same with our Yacht Club. From a site on the water’s edge, we built slipways, wharf, and a entertainment area. As well we supplied a chase boat.

I did notice however it seems to be the same dozen people who were the ‘doers’, these folk actually did most of the work, no matter what enterprise you were involved in.

I have covered in earlier stories, my experiences of flying the Tiger Moth the primary trainer of the Air Force, as well as our hurried trip to North America to carry out the next step of my Flying career, Service Flying.

As it turned out we need not have been denied our final leave, we had been given three days to say our good byes. As soon as we arrived at Edmonton, Canada, which I’m sure is one of the coldest places in the world, we were put on hold. We waited months for a position to materialise in the Service Flying schools, and to commence our course. What we didn’t realize that at the time, they were actually prolonging our lives An Air Force Pilot, at that time, would seem to have a very short shelf life. This was brought home to me by something that happened at Taieri. On the walls of one of the Pilots rooms they had hung the ‘class pictures’ of the pilots who had passed out from each course. As and when they were killed, and they were, they had coloured in their white cap flashes in red. I discovered to my horror that there were very few survivors in the initial twenty five courses, everyone seem to be either ‘Killed In Action’ or posted as ‘missing’. As we waited and whiled away six months or more, the Canadian Air Force which we were now part of, did their best to keep us busy, by teaching us Navigation and many of the other skills we were going to require in the future. From them we learnt some very valuable lessons, and a lot about the weather. One threat was Icing, either in the carburettor, or on the wings. Another phenomena that killed people, and you should know about, especially if you are flying. It’s called ‘White-out’ and this can happen at any time that there is snow around, and the light conditions are correct. It can hide a whole mountain range from sight, even though it’s immediately in front of you, it’s just impossible to see it. Never was there a truer Homily than, ‘There are rocks in clouds’. Skiers and Mountain Climbers would be familiar with this same phenomena, as ‘White Outs’ are experienced in the mountains too, under certain conditions

A classic example of what it can do, would be to the Air New Zealand’s DC10 that flew unknowingly into Mount Erobus, even though it was right in front of them in plain sight. There would be two reasons why this happened. One, a senior captain was flying the Air Craft, I would imagine he had never experienced a ‘White Out’ from his behaviour, he would have also scorned the presence of a junior ex Air Force pilot on the flight deck who had. He also broke another cardinal rule, and went down lower than his instructions allowed. This was in an area where he didn’t know exactly where he was. He had been instructed to keep above 3050 metres. To muddy up the waters, an inquiry then allowed lawyers into the equation. They got carried away regarding navigation ‘Way Points’, and pinned the blame onto the wrong people. The Air Craft navigation ‘Way Point’ got them very close to where they wanted to go, but they were in the wrong valley and they would have been using ‘visual flight rules’. In a ‘White Out’, this system can get you killed, and it did. The Inspector of Air Accidents Ron Chippindale got it right, ‘Pilot Error’, was his finding, but he was ignored.

Another phenomena they had in Canada, and I imagine in other cold places that is ‘Super Cooled Rain’ . It’s actually rain that’s below freezing point, but doesn’t turn into ice until it strikes something. When it happens, it festoons trees with icicles, breaks off large branches. Drags down power lines. It is also deadly to Air Craft. One instructor said to me, ‘Should you ever encounter it, Go back to where you were, because there was none there.’ The closest example I have seen in New Zealand, is in Central Otago, where they fight frost with water spray, and the fruit trees in orchards are festooned with icicles.

It had to happen and it did, finally we were sent over to Ontario to a small village called Dunnville. It was on the edge of Lake Erie and had an Air Field built on it’s outskirts. It was one of several, all built through out the State, all to exactly the same design. So in bad weather you had to be very careful you were actually landing on your home station. We did a lot of of flying in what I would call very Bad Weather, and at Night. My worst experience ever, was flying in an snow storm one night that hadn’t been forecast . I found my way home then, more by good luck than good management, but many that night were lost, and forced down.

The Harvard our trainer was a wonderful plane to fly, it was the Air Craft selected to bring us up to ‘Wings’ Standard, although some variants of the machine were actually used on operations. We also had several twin engined Air Craft such as Ansons, which lumbered around for Navigation Instruction. Why they bothered I didn’t know, as a single engined pilot, you were alone, and at night, you had a map strapped on one leg, a calculator on the other, in poor light, you really didn’t have the ability to carry out difficult navigational problems. We all had problems, as this was a hard discipline to master. Frank and George, fellow trainees decided to minimise their risk in a long solo Cross Country, with Frank waiting with parachute at the end of the strip all unknown to the hierarchy and going along to assist. In spite of this, they still got well and truly lost, ending up in jail after doing a forced landing hundreds of miles down into America. We unfortunately lost two other fellow trainees in separate air accidents, which was about par for the course.

And what did I think of the Harvard as a machine to fly? It was very noisy, powerful, in fact some of the pilots I knew, are having hearing problems today. I was told I too could apply for a pension, but I’m not effected. On the credit side It was easy to fly, providing you did exactly as taught. Forget to uncage your gyro when taking off at night, in a flash it would kill you, and did in many cases, because once you left the strip there was nothing but darkness and no outside reference to which way was ‘up’, then you had to rely solely on your instruments, which you couldn’t if your prime directional instrument had toppled, or remained in the locked position.

All things come to an end, one day our instruction did cease, and we were declared skilled enough to be awarded our wings, with five times the hours our predecessors had before they were pushed into combat. Then I was granted more than wings, I had found a new confidence.

I have just returned from driving into town. I was following a small 1950 Morris car when the driver, it seemed wished to make a turn, he surprised me by putting out his hand and arm, signalling his intentions. It’s a long time since I witnessed anyone using hand signals. Which brings to mind, what a pampered lot of motorists we are today. It doesn’t seem all that long ago I used to drive my Uncle Gordon and any of the family from Dunedin who wished to go, up to the Racing Cup Festival at Christchurch.

This was not a journey to be taken lightly, the car was unheated, as were all cars of that time. So preparing themselves for a cold night and journey, the passengers all armed themselves with hot water bottles, thick travelling rugs. As well, a large basket full of Flasks of hot water, to make tea, plus substantial snacks. We didn’t seem drink a lot of coffee in those days, it was always tea. Cars were a little more difficult to drive too. No automatic gear boxes, only ‘crash’ gear boxes without any synchromesh. That was still to be invented. Roads were in the most part unsealed apart from the towns we passed through. Another small problem was that the electrical system was only 6 volts, so driving on the main beam wouldn’t measure up to a quarter of today’s light. I can remember too, that in fog especially at night, the 6 Volt system couldn’t penetrate the gloom. This was especially so on trips over Mihiwaka Mountain which always seemed to be shrouded in fog, when we made our trips out to the Beach. We always travelled after the movies at night, for at the time that was the family business. More often than not, someone would be forced to walk alongside the car, marking the boundary of the road with a torch.

Another of today’s comforts that was missing, was the radio. Even if you had one, the power of the Broadcasting station was so low, you didn’t travel very far and you soon ran out of a signal. Also I still have hanging in my wardrobe, a thick tweed overcoat. I suppose it’s still fashionable, I know it’s warm, but I haven’t worn it for at least 30 or 40 years, just because there is no need. We no longer travel in cold unheated public transport or cars, or have the need to wait in the open at bus or train shelters, for whatever you are catching to arrive.

All cars of this period required constant tinkering too, and there was the need to carry a comprehensive tool box. In fact some expensive models used to build a tool box into the trunk with the spare tyre, tools all neatly set out in a specially lined siding draws, each embossed with the car’s manufacturer’s name.

On the plus side there were very few traffic cops, normally one per town. No compulsorily Stop Signs either, apart from Rail crossings, which normally were infested with trains, special care was always required. Few if any traffic lights. I can also remember a fully uniformed Police Constable called Oswald? Complete with white gloves on point duty for many years at the Exchange in Dunedin, during peak traffic periods. Parking was a breeze, normally you could find a park where ever you wished to go, then park all day if you so wished. Car thieves were yet be conceived and born. Oil had to be changed every thousand miles, in fact a constant eye had to be kept on all fluid levels, as cars at that time were notorious for dripping and leaking fluids. The first thing in the morning daily, one had to examine water and oil before you even took your vehicle out. Tyres weren’t all that reliable either, so it was necessary to know how to change a wheel, and if possible repair a puncture on the side of the road. A hand or foot pump was always provided with the tool kit. Cars of early days were of rugged construction, a running board was just that. A bumper was also a thick bar of steel, and could sustain a serious bump, something the plastic object of today’s car still called a bumper can’t do. All you get today is a bill for $6 or $800 to replace same, that’s if you are unfortunate enough to have a bump.