BIGGLES and “THE DIEF”

Toronto approach:1

Biggles was, to coin a phrase, an ‘adrenalin junkie’; and retirement was extremely hard on him. Since his retirement from Scotland Yard’s Air Police at the manditory age of 65 he had experienced ‘relevance deprivation’ in the extreme. And, his reputation was taking a bashing. Without his trusted team of Algy, Bertie and Ginger to support him, he was, well, to be frank, nearly incompetant. 2

Not incompetant as a pilot. He still had that skill in abundance. No, incompetant in finding and being victorious over criminals and spies. There was simply no market in 1968 for an ‘over-the-hill’ adventurer. He could, he knew, always become an instructor at some aeroclub. He was healthy and still had his pilot’s licence. [Some spiteful persons said he only kept it because someone in ‘Government’ was his patron] 3

But instructing some 10-thumbed student pilots held no attraction for him. Not for James Bigglesworth, ace in WW1 and 2, adventurer, spy, and bon vivant. Sadly however, MI5, the CIA, even ATF & DEA didn’t want him. There was an abundance of younger mercenaries to fight in the smouldering African wars, and he opposed the Viet Nam War. How he missed his team. But Ginger was still in the Air Police, Bertie was off chasing an Argentinian heiresss, and cousin Algy was in the hands of the NHS, having another by-pass.4

It wasn’t as if he was broke, and needed a job; the opposite in fact. During his years of private adventuring he had been able to accumulate a reasonable nestegg; and his Air Police pension, though paltry by British Civil Service standards, filled out the hollows, as it were. Indeed, he even had a cottage in the Cotswolds. No, he was simply ‘bored’ [from which one can imply ‘relevance deprivation’].5

So, here he was on an Air Canada flight from Heathrow to Toronto, to pick up a leased De Haviland DHC-2 ‘Beaver’, straight from the De Haviland Canada factory. From Toronto he intended to spend time ‘bush bashing’ his way across Canada and back. The DHC-2 was slow, but powerful; and he only needed ‘to be faster than a dog sled’, as the saying went. His first leg he had planned; up north from Toronto to Lake Nipissing for a week of fishing, then wander out west to Saskatoon to visit an old friend and attend a ‘fly-in’.6

Of Canadian friends he had a tonne; ex-RAF and RCAF, even a few retired Mounties. His own RAF and Scotland Yard background would open doors for him just about anywhere he went in Canada. It was something to look forward to. He hoped some serendipity would come his way, and he would stumble into something that would stir the old adrenalin. Even now, as his jet came on to the glide path for Toronto his hands were itching to get hold of that DHC-2 Beaver. A day’s rest to adjust to ‘jet-lag’, then final leasing and insurance arrangements with the DHC office, familiarisation and certification flights, and off he’d go. From June to October he would be a gypsy of the skies.7

Then of course the playing would end, and he would be back in Toronto catching a flight to…. to where? Biggles wondered. Well, he had five months to think about that question. Right now his mind was up forward in the cockpit, runing through the landing procedures.8

* * *9

Biggles, ever practical when it came to aircraft, had ordered an amphibian version of the DHC-2. Even with production having ended the year before, there were still several aircraft available. His machine was in red and white livery, rego number C-GZNO [Candy-George-Zebra-Nora-October]. He was rated on a wide variety of aircraft, to be expected of someone with over fifty years flying in war and peace. Thus, in only two days flying over Lake Ontario with a De Haviland instructor, and the TC/CA registrar, Biggles gained his certification, and grew to love the big STOL beast.10

With a wing span nearly that of a DC-3, and half length of that twin-engine bird, the DHC-2 was a big aircraft; designed to carry 6 passengers or 2,100 lb of cargo across the wilds of Canada. Cruising was slow with the amphibious floats, so Biggles was going to hop his way across the great expanse of Canada. Lake Nipissing was 212 air miles north of Toronto. Given expected cross winds he’d allow two hours to make the flight. 11

During his fourth day in Toronto, Biggles had kitted himself out; fishing gear, sleeping bag, sterno stove, tent, and everything else he’d want for camping in the Canadian bush. For sure he knew about the Canadian mossies and flies, so there was lots of insect repellant! And De Haviland had re-configured the seating; for the pilot, any guest co-pilot, and two other passengers. The remainder of the capacious cabin would hold his gear. Armed with maps and weather reports he filed his flight plan to North Bay and set off on the morning of his fifth day in Canada.12

Gradually the farmlands and towns of southern Ontario began to give way to forests, interconnecting rivers and lakes, and more scattered settlements. Above Lake Simcoe he picked up Route 11, and followed it north at three thousand feet altitude. Fifteen minutes out of North Bay he called up the regional airport and requested permission to land. Next he called up Lakair Lodge on the radio and notified them of his arrival, and would they send their car. 13

He could have flown direct to Lakair Lodge on the west side of Lake Nipissing, but he wanted a A&E mechanic to give C-GZNO a thorough final going over before he headed west. The car arranged by Lakair Lodge picked Biggles up at the maintenance service hanger, and drove him along the north edge of the lake until they reached Lakair Lodge. There Biggles had the use of a rustic one bedroom cabin, and a small motor boat. He spent the next six days contentedly angling for Walleye and Bass. In the evenings he planned out his route as far as Saskatoon.14

A two hour flight due west would bring him to the Canadian side of the Soo Locks. A couple hours’ relaxation, and providing the weather held, an overwater flight from Sault St. Marie across Lake Superior to Nipigon, Ontario for fuel. Overnight camp, then from Nipigon to Kenora on Lake of the Woods to re-fuel, then on to Hecla Provincial Park on Lake Winnipeg for a few more days of wilderness fishing. Then the long, long haul to Saskatoon. That flight he also planned to break, into thirds; from Lake Winnipeg to Lake Dauphin, Lake Dauphin to Big Quill Lake, Big Quill Lake to Saskatoon airport. He could take his time, at least four or five days; depending on the weather.15

* * * 16

Saskatoon:17

The operation had been in the planning for over a year. They had planted two technicians among the new dam’s power station crew. The explosions would be timed for the planned opening ceremonies. At least one 62 MW generator, and possibly all three, at the new Gardiner Dam on the South Saskatchewan River would be destroyed. But that part of the plan was dependant upon the success of the first; the shooting down of the VIP flight from Ottawa carrying all of Saskatchewan’s members of Parliament. And chief among those targets was former prime minister, and ardent nationalist, John George Diefenbaker; “The Dief”.18

FLQ terrorists Michel Du Bord, Alain Rolland, and Pierre Cartier had already flown out, on separate flights, to Regina. There they had presented false I.D. and purchased a used Dodge two-ton stake-sided farm truck, driven northwest and rented a run down farm house on the eastern outskirts of Saskatoon. There they awaited a delivery of ‘farm machinery’ from Quebec, 10 kilos of Czech- manufactured Semtex and two of the new Soviet Strela-2 SAMs. The Semtex was destined for the new dam. The SAMs were meant for Diefenbaker and his companions.19

The plan was simple. Park on a rural road off of Route 41, on the flight path for runway 27. The truck would be loaded with bales of hay; except the centre, which would hide the two weapon’s operators. “Shoot and scoot”, that was the plan. Simply drive away, back to their farm house, and lay low for a week before driving to Regina, selling the truck and taking different flights and buses to Toronto, where they would be met and driven to Quebec and their comrades. 20

For the two technicians it meant immediate flight to Vancouver, and then [more]false papers to get into Quebec via the USA. But that was their problem, for the two terrorist cells had never met; and were controled by someone in Ottawa; whom none of them had ever met.21

Pierre Cartier, as head of this cell, smiled to himself, a knowing and malicious smile. He knew that a third cell was operating in Quebec. It would tie up the over-stretched RCMP Directorate of Security and Intelligence with a series of minor but attention-getting explosions in Quebec and Ontario Provinces in the week before the Gardiner Dam dedication. That would allow more freedom of action here in the west.22

* * *23

Ottawa:24

The testy former PM was pacing around the bedroom of his Ottawa home as his second wife, Olive, packed his suitcases for him. He was about to nag his wife for the fourth time in five minutes when she forestalled him. “Don’t harang me, John! This isn’t Parliament.”25

“But I need to be at the airport on time, Oli. And I want both blue suits….”26

“You’ll get them, John. Just let me pack neatly, you old fusspot….”27

“And I need my hat. Where have you put my hat?”28

“You put your hat where you always put your hat, dear. On the coat rack by the front door. Why don’t you go get it while I finish?”29

As he walked down the hall there was a knock on the door. The Dief openned it to find a half squad of RCMP officers, formally kitted out, waiting for him. To his puzzled expression, the senior Sargent explained, “Your escort to the airport sir.”30

“Yes. Oh, yes, of course, the FLQ bombings. How terribly sad.”31

“May I fetch your bags, sir?” enquired one of the officers.32

“Yes, of course, back in the bedroom if you would, please,” he asnwered, pointing. 33

Olive grabbed The Dief’s hat and handed it to him, along with a peck on the cheek, as the security squad escorted him out the front door and into the waiting Buick sedan. The security service knew that The Dief was on the FLQ’s assassination list. A number of bombs had gone off in the last few days in Quebec and in Ontario Province. The government of the day was taking no chances, and there were plainclothesmen on guard front and rear of the house, whether Diefenbaker was home or not. Two security officers rode with him, one in front, one in back. The other four officers split between two non-descript Ford sedans, one driving point, the other bringing up the rear. 34

Unfortunately his Parliamentary driver took a wrong turn on the way to the airport, and the nervous officer in the front seat drew his pistol, suspecting FLQ foul play, and stuck the barrel of the gun into the driver's head. "Bless you, my boy, for your vigilance," said The Dief. "But I've known this driver since I was PM. You can be sure he won't kill me!" Still, they drove the rest of the way with the gun still pointed at the driver's head. 35

Despite The Dief’s fussing, there had never been any likelihood that they would be late in catching the RCAF VIP flight to the west. 36

* * *37

East of Saskatoon:38

Biggles had certainly enjoyed his flight west. Camp, fish, rest, talk with other pilots, see the scenery change, get to know the aircraft better. It was a delightful way to spend a fortnight. Now he was on the last leg to Saskatoon. He hadn't been to Saskatoon since the early 1920's, when he'd helped train young Chinese pilots there for Sun Yat Sen's revolutionary airforce. He was looking forward to seeing his old friend, Air Vice Marshal (ret) Kenyon; with whom he'd served in WW1, and assisted in the Chinese project. 39

He thumbed his mike; “Candy-George-Zebra-Nora-October calling Saskatoon tower. Candy-George-Zebra-Nora-October calling Saskatoon tower. Request landing instructions.”40

“Candy-George-Zebra-Nora-October, this is Saskatoon tower. Squawk ident, please.”41

“Roger, squawk ident.”42

“Zebre-Nora-October, immediate 90 degree right turn, and climb to 35 hundred feet. RCAF VIP behind you has landing priority.”43

Years of flying had taught Biggles that an ‘immediate’ command from a control tower meant just that, immediate response. He boosted power, began his turn and climb and only then radioed back; “Saskatoon, Zebra-Nora-October executing climbing turn 90-right to angels three and a half. I have visual on RCAF VIP flight below and east at two miles.”44

There were three men in the tower that morning, one on the radar, the radio operator, and the head controller. When Biggles acknowledged his climbing turn and sighting of the incoming VIP flight the senior controller lifted his binoculars and sought out the incoming Learjet. Just then the loudspeakers blasted ….45

“Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. RCAF VIP! SAMs fired your ‘6’! Evade! Evade! Evade! Now!”46

That was followed immediately by a single phrase. “Tally-ho!”47

The RCAF pilot, coming up on his twenty years in the Royal Canadian Air Force, and having dodged flak in Korea as a young man, responded to the warning immediately. In the corner of his eye he caught a flash of red and white, the blur of diving aircraft. Before his younger co-pilot could respond, the more experienced first pilot had slammed the throttles forward and swung the Learjet into a turn to get his engine exhaust facing away from the incoming missiles. As he completed his evasive maneuver he searched for the SAMs; only to find two dark and dissipating clouds of smoke in the airspace he had just vacated.48

“What the Dickens just happened, tower?” the RCAF pilot asked, the wonderment and adrenalin still in his voice. 49

The senior controller, a former RCAF officer himself, answered in knowledgeable awe, “Zebra-Nora-October just ate two SAMs intended for you. You are cleared for direct approach VIP, on runway 27. The ‘Follow Me’ and some RCMP vehicles will be there to escort you to a secure area.50

“Roger, confirm direct approach. Coming back on heading now. No sign of Zebra-Nora-October.”51

“Roger that VIP. He’s not on our radar. Your glide path is good, VIP..... Welcome back to earth.”52

* * * 53

Saskatoon:54

Biggles awoke from the anaesthetic slowly, and tried to focus on the man seated next to his bed. It took him several goes, and the better part of an hour, before he realised that it was his old friend, RCAF Air Vice Marshal (ret) Robert Kenyon, the very person he’d flown to Saskatoon to visit.55

“Hello Biggles,” the greying veteran said when he saw Biggles’ eyes finally focus. “You had us a tad worried. You are a mad man, I know, but don’t you think you were overdoing it a bit?” This chiding was said with a distinct air of concern, for the man lying in the hospital bed was a cross-hatch of stitches, gauze and plasters.56

“Sorry, old man, but I’m not really clear on what you are talking about.”57

“Do you see that Mountie standing at your door?”58

Biggles craned to look, winced at the pain the movement caused, and saw that a rather beefy Mountie, red uniform and all, stood guard on the other side of his clear-view door. “Yes?”59

“Well, old chap, he’s here to keep the press, or the FLQ, away. It seems you’ve managed to make yourself a hero. Again.”60

“I still don’t follow you Kenyon.”61

The Air Vice Marshal shook his head in bewilderment. “Well,” he began, “for starters you managed to save a former Canadian Prime Minister from certain death, as well as a crate full of other prominent politicans. Secondly, you managed to singlehandedly remove a group of French-Canadian terrorists from the RCMP’s most wanted list. Of course, you did all that at the expense of a certain leased DHC-2; of which I suspect De Haviland-Canada’s insurers will be most unappreciative.”62

“Oh,” was all a meekly chastened Biggles could say. The anaesthetic had worn off now, and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable; from Robert Kenyon’s conversation as well as from the two cracked ribs, multiple lacerations, bumps, bruises; and not least the sutured hole in his left thigh where a small piece of shrapnel had been removed. “I remember now.”63

* * *64

Above Saskatoon:65

As he began the climb and turn commanded by the airport control tower he had caught sight of the approaching Learjet below and to the east of him. Immediately after speaking to the tower he had been amazed to see the firey ignition of two rockets from the back of a farm truck parked in a lane below. The VIP flight was the obvious target. It took a moment for the two rapidly rising ‘flying telephone poles’, with their flaming exhausts and smoky trails, to register in his mind. Then his actions were automatic, the result of many years of combat experience. He called in the Mayday message as he dove to intercept the guided missiles, shouting “Tally-ho” as he had over Britian so many years before when diving on 'Doodle-bugs'.66

Though his DHC-2 was big and slow it dropped like a rock, and he tried to estimate how to intercept the missiles before they took out the Learjet. Having built up some speed he whipped his floatplane into a turn and inserted himself between the VIP flight and the two missiles. 67

One of the missiles clipped his starboard wing, tumbled off its trajectory to the jet, and self destructed a few seconds later, safely away from both Biggles and the RCAF jet. The second missile, launched a few seconds later than the first, lost the jet’s exhaust in the pilot’s evasive turn, but locked on to the weaker, but closer, heat of the exhaust from the DHC-2’s 450 HP radial engine. The 1.15 kg warhead detonated beside one of the amphibious floats.68

That shredded and twisted float was ripped clear of the fusalage. The aircraft was peppered with shrapnel, and the plane was thrown sideways by the force of the blast, almost flipping over. But the engine was still running, and the controls were still answering Biggles’ commands. Having seen the launch point he went into an inverted dive towards the farm vehicle.69

The plane crabbed badly from the unequal aerodynamics of the single float, but Biggles was able to bring the plane down to treetop level without further difficulty. The truck had moved from its side road location out onto a main highway. He flew low over the speeding truck. Two men, armed with pistols stood in the open space within the encircling hay bales shooting at him. Their aim was poor, thrown off by the bouncing, swerving truck.70

Biggles, angered by their terrorist attack on the VIP flight, flew several miles ahead, turned, and came back at the truck head on; the remaining float almost touching the macadam. A mad gleam shone in Biggles’ eyes as he hunched down over the yoke. He aimed the remaining float at the truck’s windshield, and matched each swerve of the truck with a touch of the rudder pedals. The two men in back were firing directly at him as their paths converged. So focused were they that they didn’t appreciate their mortal danger.71

The float struck the hood of the truck, ripped loose from the plane, penetrated the windshield and impanted itself in the cab. Momentum carried Biggles and the DHC-2 across the top of the truck; the propellor shredding the upper bales of hay, and mincing the two terrorists in the back. The plane’s engine siezed as it careered over the tail of the truck, and the plane dropped heavily to the highway pavement. Sliding and slewing as the struts that had recently held the floats dug into the surface, Biggles used the rudder in those last few seconds to try and cause the crashing plane to head for the darinage ditch at the side of the highway. The nose of the plane hitting the ditch was Biggles’ last conscious memory. The Mounties and ambulance drivers found Biggles still straped in, bleeding and unconscious in the crumpled shell of his downed aircraft. 72

The unconscious pilot was assessed, stabilised and then transported back into Saskatoon. A half mile from Biggles’ crash site the Mounties found the wrecked and overturned farm truck. The hay was strewn across both lanes. The mashed corpse of the driver sat pinned in the cab. The two decapitated terrrorists had been thrown clear, their fragmented heads were being sauteed on the hot road surface. In the wreckage the Mounties found two man-portable SAM launchers. All the serial numbers had been filed off; but forensics would soon identify the origin of the weapons. 73

Unknown to Biggles as he recupperated in the private room with its Mountie guard, the FLQ terrorists at Gardiner Dam had attempted to flee when they heard that the rocket attack had failed. Indeed, the RCMP already had suspicions about them, and arrested them within hours of the attack on the VIP flight.74

One act remained of this serendipity. The day after the official openning of Gardiner Dam, and Lake Diefenbaker that it formed on the South Saskatchewan River, Biggles was awoken from an afternoon nap by two fussing nurses. They woke him, gave him a sponge bath, dressed him, and sat him up. He was to have an “official” visit.75

He saw the Mountie at the door come to attention. First, Air Vice Marshal Kernton (ret) came in. He was followed by an elderly man of vigour and deportment, full of energy and keen to get on with the meeting.76

“James Bigglesworth,” the Air Vice Marshal said formally, “I have the honour to introduce The Honourable John George Diefenbaker, Member of Parliament, Chairman of the Progressive Conservative Party, and former Prime Minister of Canada.”77

The gentleman in question came briskly up to Biggles’ bed and shook his hand enthusiastically; “I am grateful to be alive and grateful to meet you, sir. On behalf of myself and my Parliamentary colleagues I wish to thank you for your courageous and self-sacrificing actions last week. The current Prime Minister has requested that I extend the thanks of a grateful nation to your swift and honourable actions.”78

The accolades continued until Biggles was visibly tired, and the matron gave a gentle hint to the dignitaries that he needed to rest. They made their exit, and Biggles was left alone with his thoughts. Before he could become to morrose over the loss of his aircraft and the interruption to his holiday the Mountie at the door came in holding an envelope.79

“Telegram for you, sir.”80

Biggles thanked the young man, and opened the missive. It read:81

“You could have at least invited us to the party - stop – Get well soon –end –82

Signed83

A, G & B" 84