As Air France’s Airbus A330-200 engines whined to a stop, sand patterns twirled on the aircraft’s windows and moments later, an all-encompassing “brown out” rampaged into N’Djamena, Chad, and closed the central African airport (FTTJ). Somewhere near the wind-blasted terminal, Beechcraft King Air 200 (N22071) waited patiently. Based in the country’s capital city, the airplane carried the lettering UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) on its sides and I had been contracted as pilot.
In 2003, ethnic and religious conflicts in neighboring Sudan sent refugees across the border into landlocked Chad. When reports of brutal murders breached the Western Hemisphere, Doctors Without Borders dispatched assessment teams and soon N22071 landed onto the steaming asphalt of N’Djamena’s runway.
Backed by the U.S. Department of State’s Bureau of Population, Refugees and Immigration (the humanitarian bureau of the State Department) Air Serv International provided personnel for what then Secretary of State Colin Powell called the world’s “Human Catastrophe.” Air Serv scheduled transport for charitable organizations Oxfam, Save the Children, Red Cross and other non-governmental organizations, while the international press sought seats on N22071. When not shuttling broadcast or print journalists, we carried victims of what they referred to as “killers on camels” one way and medications the other way.
The versatile King Air 200 call-signed “United Nations Kilo One” suited its task perfectly. Logbooks indicated 10,868 airframe hours and flight plans revealed 187 knots average cruise with 850 shp Pratt & Whitney PT6A-41s consuming 600 pph. Never designed to handle sand and stone, the three-blade propellers turned only 14.5 inches above the surface. However, pilot experience on unprepared surfaces and conscientious maintenance by A&P Roger Ericson resulted in minimal downtime.
Most trips entailed a 356-mile journey east to the city of Abéché (FTTC) near the Chad-Sudan border. From this area of sun-cracked stones, we branched out to smaller airstrips. With 7,994 pounds basic weight and 12,324 pounds gross, aircrew selected high airspace where passengers appreciated cool air from nose-mounted condensers, coil valves and miscellaneous air conditioning parts. Surface temperatures reached 107ºF and once we noted 140ºF in our cockpit when parked in the afternoon sun. Perspiring visitors exiting the King Air stared at the minaret skylines where few locals spoke French or English and Arabic dominated.
Approaches beyond FTTC’s 9,186 feet x 98 feet paved runway were airstrips rutted by wandering camels or garbage-eating goats which required full flaps. Rocky ledges, grass hut villages with stone-walled animal corrals created pretty scenery and scrawny stray dogs romped everywhere. After shutdown, lizards targeted the King Air’s warm wheels and scorpions battled with spiders in the shade. Formal Jeppesen charts rarely existed, so aircrew used “Jungle Jepps” hand-drawn by African-based pilots. On a 52-mile hop from Abéché to the village of Biltine, we lacked surface information and did not top off the 544-usable-gallon fuel tanks for weight purposes, but overhead inspection revealed nothing hazardous except painted rock edge markers. Reversing above 40 knots helped reduce the run.
We accepted an invitation to visit a refugee camp where Biltine’s residents had been overwhelmed by their former Sudanese neighbors. In spite of dismal surroundings, young women giggled and squinty-eyed senior men nodded their heads in greeting. When we returned to N22071, the de-ice boots had become nesting sites for hordes of tire-size black flies and sunlight turned the 54 feet, six-inch wing into a frying pan. Before leaving FTTJ, the passengers had filled the baggage compartment with packaged sandwiches, but surface winds had pushed sand inside the aircraft through an improperly closed door and nothing remained edible.
Back at N’Djamena, pilot Olivia Behar waited with word of an early takeoff the next morning back to Abéché. After lifting off into the dark, we passed through thin overcast and steadied on 073. At 23,000 feet, a strikingly beautiful glow began brightening the horizon and within minutes, the sun’s rays penetrated the cloud layer below our belly. Our timing worked well, as there were no night landings at FTTC because someone had stolen the runway lights.
In dim dawn, we could barely discern three white vehicles although seeping sunlight flashed off their idling exhausts. After touchdown, we eased condition levers into idle cutoff and the Hartzell propellers halted. An ambulatory patient emerged from a Land Rover carrying his own intravenous bag but before he boarded, a nurse stabbed a hypodermic syringe into his forearm.
Every trip carried a sense of urgency. Twice daily flights, sometimes three, took place from N’Djamena and logbook hours did not reflect the waiting, loading and servicing. Most airstrips lacked windsocks. Determining landing direction entailed overflying communities or refugee camps to search for rags, tents or cattle facing into the wind.
One flight to Iriba (37 miles from the Sudanese border) after dropping off journalists, we aborted start when the Doctors Without Borders truck nearly bumped our left wingtip. A nurse asked if we could handle an extra patient and pointed across the truck tailgate to a teenager who had been shot in the face by Janjaweed (tribal militia). A passenger stepped forward to volunteer his space and the boy shuffled to the airplane with a friend for support on each side.
Thirty miles east of N’Djamena, we deviated past thunderstorms. During the wet season, up to 185 mm (7.3 inches) of “liquid hell” flooded shacks, collapsed tents and stagnated surface transport. In our King Air 200, we stayed clear of buildups. The Air Serv team knew the Wichita assembly plant’s pride in producing one of aviation’s strongest wings but none of us felt inclined to test their claims. In turbulence, we disconnected autopilot, but interconnected elevators and ailerons eased the workload.
In spite of drab desert and poverty, we sometimes encountered colorful events. At Abéché, a Chadian soldier demanded we move because an inbound aircraft carried the president of Chad, Idriss Deby. We started engines but stayed vigilant enough not to exceed the maximum as AK47-armed soldiers paralleled the runway and trucks disembarked troupes of women dancers in pink and green ankle-length traditional dresses.
Suddenly, a Russian-built Il-76 jet roared to a stop in clouds of dust. From the rear doors, more soldiers double-timed onto the asphalt. Some climbed into trucks with roof-mounted guns almost as long as the vehicle and deployed around the parking area. Plain clothes guards inspected N22071’s wheel wells while the women kept up a cacophony of clapping, drumming and high-pitched trilling. As our Air Serv group watched from among the troop transports and business jets, we felt quite insignificant. It helped that our white shirts and gold stripes brought on snappy salutes and clicked heels at many airports and airstrips.
We seemed out of place when the president stepped from his jet but the happenings in Chad were far from insignificant. The Janjaweed, according to World Health Organization data, were responsible for at least 450,000 deaths from disease, murder and starvation through genocidal ethnic cleansing. Across the twisting border, corrupt Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir recently stepped down after decades of slaughter and will be tried for crimes against humanity. Whether he spends his remaining life pensioned in a cozy jail cell or a palace in Khartoum, nothing will erase the horrors seared upon the innocents of Sudan.
As for Beechcraft King Air N22071, my logbook showed 265 additional trouble-free hours. Whether packed with temperature-sensitive vaccines or aid workers splashed in blood or urine, Beechcraft N22071 saved lives.
Robert S. Grant has published over 2,500 articles featured in magazines, journals and newspapers within six countries, as well as producing five books. He flies contract aircraft from his home near Ottawa, Canada, when possible and his logbook shows over 22,200 total flying hours which include 500 hours in the Beechcraft King Air 100A and King Air 200 models. Having worked worldwide in various aircraft types, Grant prefers flying in African countries in addition to Canada and sees the King Air 200 as well suited for humanitarian organizations.