Chapter Five

CYCLONE TRACY

 

Mother Nature has the power to change a day of joy into one of disaster and chaos with a puff of her cheeks. On Christmas Day evening in 1974, my wife and I had gone to bed early following the compulsory early awakening by our two eager young boys inspecting their overgenerous bounty of toys from Santa Claus.

 

As we lay there suffering from our day of overindulgence, I was filled with shock and dismay as we listened to the breaking news of the violent destruction of Darwin by Cyclone Tracy. When hearing the request for clothing, the ferocity of the cyclone was brought home to me and I rang Qantas flight opera�tions, offering my services for any flights that might be sent to Darwin to provide assistance. My offer was gladly accepted and I was asked to report at 5.00 am, the earliest I had ever reported for a flight.

Wardrobes and cupboards were scavenged for clothing to give to some of the thousands of Darwin residents drenched by this wrath from the heavens. On the drive to the airport my mind was full of wonder - what were we going to see and do once we arrived there? A few trees down, some minor flooding, and the usual downed power lines?

Later that morning it was made very apparent to me that I had not envisaged the enormous destructive power of a cyclone. The weather was forecast to be fine for our flight, but due to the uncertainty of the Darwin weather we carried a substantial amount of extra fuel. An additional problem was that all the Darwin navigational aids were off the air, so the final descent into Darwin was navigated from the radio beacon at Katherine, which is about 300 kilometres away.

 

It was going to be a case of 'suck it and see' as to what we did from Katherine, but Tracy had finished her wave of terror and destruction and we carried out the final part of the flight, descending into beautiful clear weather, and with an abundance of spare fuel. This made me wonder why we were there - but that soon became ap�parent. As there was no radio contact with the Darwin control tower, we flew over the airport to check that the runway was clear of debris, but while turning for an approach for landing the sudden screech of an emergency beacon filled our headphones. One of our radios was always tuned to the emergency frequency and, knowing of the devastation, we supposed that this distress signal was coming from a vessel, possibly foundering after a pounding by the savage sea.

Our crew burst into life at this spine-shivering sound of someone in distress, responding in a way that we would want anyone to do on hearing a bleat for help from us. Each aircraft has a search meter on board, and while the aircraft flies in a straight line the strength of the emergency signal is monitored. When the signal begins to weaken the aircraft turns 180 degrees and heads back the way it came, carrying out the same procedure. When it reaches the point where the signal is loudest the aircraft turns 90 degrees either way and flies until the signal becomes stronger or weaker. If it is becoming weaker, crew know that they are flying away from the beacon, and following a turn of 180 degrees the signal will increase until the aircraft is over the beacon � in theory, that is.

 

Our search procedures were thrown into confusion, for as soon as we started to monitor the signal it stopped as abruptly as it had started. We looked at each other. Were we too late for these poor souls? The landing approach was started again, and just as the captain asked me to put the wheels down the distress signal reinvented itself. We were ready this time, and with every crew member working to capacity the readings were monitored, until once again the signal stopped. Were we too late? The captain - who, perchance, was to be the captain on my last flight in the 747 - decided that we would ig�nore any more signals and complete our landing, and then contact the authorities about what had happened.

 

While carrying out the circuit in preparation for landing, we were given a view of de�struction similar to what the first pilots flying over Hiroshima must have seen, but without the added burden of fallout. The clear air on our descent gave no clue as to what we were now witnessing.

 

On taxiing to the remains of the devastated terminal, the source of the emergency beacon be�came apparent. All around the aircraft parking area there were small aircraft in every contortionist position known, including the karma sutra, while one twin engine former beauty was now showing her wrinkles and leaning against the hangar door nose down. These aircraft had gone through so much turmoil that their beacons had been activated by the violence as though they had been in a fatal crash and, hours later, the batteries, although practically dead, had tried with some last surges to make their cries heard.

 

Before our departure from Sydney I had been given some hasty instructions by a radio technician on how to operate the special high frequency radio, which had been installed to cope with the long distance communications with Sydney. Our Boeing 707 aircraft was the first com�mercial aircraft to land in Darwin, and I spent several hours being one of the only contacts with Sydney - an achievement I still feel very proud about. But I am very disappointed that Qantas would not give me a discount ticket to carry a Qantas flag at the twenty-fifth reunion of this tragic event in Darwin's history.

 

Later in the afternoon I was given a break from my communications challenge, and took a conducted tour of the littered streets, making full use of my super-eight movie camera, capturing visions of homes converted to rubble, which only yesterday were people's castles and their sanctuary.

 

The return flight to Sydney was one of the most heart-warming flights that I have ever made. Not so much that we were ferrying people away from a disaster area, but also their pussycats and puppy dogs. Every seat was filled with stunned adults and children, many comforting their pets in this very unfamiliar envi�ronment. Carrying animals in a passenger cabin was not allowed, but this was a time to bend the rules. Having their pets with them brought so much joy and comfort to those people suffering the devastat�ing loss of their homes and possessions, unaware of the hospitality about to be shown to them by the people of Sydney.

 

A quote I will never forget from a TV personality was 'Don't mourn that that can't mourn you', and I reflect on those people that were able to bring their pets with them, thus avoiding additional hardship.

 

Following a long day full of excitement, tears came to my eyes and a large lump formed in my throat as we taxied into the overseas terminal, where I counted fifty ambulances waiting for our passengers. As I had been handling most of the communications with Sydney, I don't know where the authorities got their information from, but it was gratifying to know that although they were not needed the ambulances were there showing that Sydney really cared for its fellow Australians.

 

As my film was the first to make it back to Sydney, I gave it to the media to show the country the magnitude of the disaster. Whenever I hear Cyclone Tracy mentioned, I give myself a little pat on the back and say to myself, 'I was there helping in my small way.'