BUCHAREST, September 18, 1996: The old Ilyushin 18 (YR-IMF)
was built in 1964. Its five-man crew
from Tarom had been together a long time, including a year on contract to
Cubana where the transatlantic crossing went Prague, Rekyavik, Gander, Havana.
The crew strolled into the Timisoara airport lobby at
dinnertime. Waiting for the flight
to Bucharest, I was delighted to learn that this would be our crew and the IL-18
the aircraft. I had thought the
flight to the capital was the newer BAC 11 twinjet on the tarmac.
One of the crew, a rotund man with two stripes on his
sleeve, spoke English. He was pleased when I expressed enthusiasm about getting
another ride in an 18 before they are retired. He introduced me to the captain across the table who asked
if I would be his guest in the cockpit during the flight to Arad and Bucharest.
My only time on an IL-18 had been with Interflug, the
defunct East German carrier, from Budapest to Leipzig in mid-1982. I remember the squishy seats that were so
low that you had raise up to see out of the window. Then there was the memorable fact that GDR passengers
ignored the no-smoking sign despite the flight attendant’s command to follow
instructions.
As with the doors on other Soviet planes, the Tupolev 134
and 154, you have to duck when coming aboard. Large lamps were spaced along the ceiling. The cabin had a
big section in the middle and smaller ones fore and aft separated by the galley
and lavatories. A lumpy red carpet rolled down the center aisle. The sturdy
seatback tables had an uneven spackled metal surface. Unoccupied seats were folded
completely forward. Thin plastic rims encased the circular windows. The overhead
storage rack was a continuous narrow shelf that could accommodate coats and
small briefcases.
In the cockpit I felt I was in a John Wayne movie where he
is a piloting a B-24 against the Japanese. There were white cloth covers over
the floppy earphones worn by the pilots. The cockpit gauges and dials were
primitive; nothing was digital. The
navigator sat squished behind the captain at a cramped table with a scope
illuminated by a crane-necked lamp. The radio operator’s setup was identical behind
the co-pilot, dozens of gauges were arrayed behind him. He clutched a primitive
microphone in one hand. As we taxied, the throbbing and shaking from four
engines made conversation difficult.
The flight engineer sat in a middle jump seat that had no
back. He seemed to be squatting on
the floor as he pulled the center levers backwards and forward. The silver-haired captain with halting
English sat low to the floor and reached up to grasp the throttles as well as
the yoke. Sluggish dials got thumps
from the back of his hand and once a healthy whack. A sliding window was half open
as we prepared for take off.
When the brakes were released we surged forward, the engines
groaning and metal vibrating as we gained speed. In the air the flying was
smooth. I savored a rare experience, the thrill tempered from observing outdated
technology.
During takeoff and landing I was surprised at the cackle of
multiple voices from heads clustered in close proximity behind the captain. I thought the cacophony was dangerous
until I realized these were men who knew each other well and had performed
these tasks hundreds of times. Approaching
Bucharest there were again several heads peering past the pilot’s shoulder. Positions
and instructions were called out.
With the night sky clear it was exhilarating to cruise above
the lights of the capital and then float down towards Bucharest’s domestic
airport.
Having never been in the cockpit of a big plane during
landing I was surprised how fast we descended. For me the lighted runway
resembled the deck of an aircraft carrier. I thought we were too high but a moment later we touched
down.
Parked at the gate, I asked the captain his impressions of
the IL-18. He replied, “I like having four engines and a crew instead of a
computer that does the flying. And the plane is strong and it is safe.”
It was a peak experience
reminding me of the time not long ago in the States when Eastern Airlines retired an American
version of the IL-18, the Lockheed Electra, from the New York to Washington
shuttle. The full-page newspaper ads declared, “Farewell
old prop.”
