The 81st Entry
RAF Halton Aircraft Apprentices
Sept 1955 - July 1958

ISSUE No.22 - FEBRUARY 2010
81st ENTRY NEWSLETTER
Editor: Mike Stanley

The length of a piece of string.
by Thomas F White

Twas a bright and sunny day in a small town in southern Switzerland, on the Italian side of the Alps, where I learnt the length of a piece of string; it is exactly one minute and fifty-two seconds.

Yes, exactly 1:52, this is recorded on Eurovision June 6, 1984 when I made the most important decision of my aircraft career; this also formed the rest of my life.

1982 I joined Saab Aircraft in Linköping, Sweden and became the first technical representative for the Saab 340, a 34-seater twin turboprop commuter and the best of its class at that time.

Crossair in Switzerland with their dynamic chief Moritz Suter bought ten aircraft straight off the drawing board and became the launch customer.

I went to Basel May 1984 and the first aircraft came about two weeks later and was the first aircraft to go into commercial service. The inaugural flight was to be June 6 after a couple of weeks of training aircrews and ground crews, a lot of hard work. The first commercial flight of the Saab 340, then called Saab Fairchild 340, with the first commercial passenger none other then Pope Johannes Paulus II, papa himself.

The amount of advertising and publicity around this event was enormous. The Pope’s emblem was painted on the aircraft, there were watches specially made by Swatch, ties and such like. Crossair leased in other aircraft to fly their regular routes and all the aircraft in Crossair colours, because of the TV coverage, were taking off and landing all the time just over the mountain to another airfield, where the passengers changed coats and flew back. It only took five minutes.

There we were that morning at Lugano airport. The sun was shining on the 1100- meter runway and the surrounding 3000-meter mountains shadowed the end of the runway. There were, it was estimated, about 250,000 fervent Catholics all over the airport and until the Pope arrived Swiss army helicopters swept the mountainsides for eventual security risks.

The automobile caravan with the Pope and his nearest following entourage arrived and embarked into the aircraft.

The pre-flight checks had been completed 30 minutes earlier and myself, and the others responsible, inclusive Moritz Suter, sat in another aircraft 50 meters away. We were connected by radio to the 340 and monitored everything:


- Start engines OK!

- Taxi to take off position OK!

- Pre-take off checks Oops, not OK!


The pilot Mattias, who I had become friends with, reported a red warning light; starboard propeller gearbox oil pressure failure. He said he is now awaiting instructions.

By the radio I instructed him to check the oil temperature starboard with the port engine and to manoeuvre the propellers from full reverse to full course and check the times for the operation between the two engines. I climbed out of our aircraft while Mattias was doing this and I walked quickly across to where the 340 had been parked.

If I had found one drop of oil I would have cancelled the flight! Wow, what a marketing flop, not only for Crossair, but for the aircraft and all concerned.

I found no oil and in the 1 minute 52 seconds it took to cover the 100 metres I went over and analysed the gearbox oil system probably 250 times and remembered that on ground runs in Sweden three weeks earlier I had seen the gearbox oil pressure transducer fail three times in one afternoon on one of the test aircraft. It took nearly a year before the fault was finally rectified.

Back in the aircraft, with the President of Crossair breathing down my neck, I listened to the pilot reporting that prop times and temperatures were OK. This proved that the oil pressure was OK, so I told him that it was the pressure transducer that had failed but the pressure was OK and that he was clear for take off when he had poked out the red warning lights.

Moritz Suter then repeated over the radio “Tom White of Saab authorizes take off”. He knew well that all radio traffic was monitored and recorded.

The aircraft engines powered up and the 340 rolled down the runway and lifted, ten seconds later it vanished behind the mountain and there was complete silence. Then I panicked: I have killed the Pope and I had visions of my head being nailed to the dome of St. Peter’s in Rome.

After about another 30 seconds the 340 came round the mountain and over the airfield. Moritz Suter kissed me.

We took off in our aircraft, a Fairchild, and flew direct to Bern and landed before the Pope, who wanted to see the Matterhorn.

An amusing anecdote with this memorable flight: We had removed five rows of seats and installed the largest, finest first class seat we could borrow from Swissair as a throne. Mattias told me later when we flew back from Bern to Basel and I sat in the throne, that I had sat there more than the Pope. He refused to sit there, he flew the whole flight on the jump seat between the pilots and said it was the only chance he was going to get in his life and he wasn’t going to miss it.

When the 340 landed in Bern the Pope came down the stairs and by tradition kissed the ground of Switzerland. With his entourage and security people around him he walked towards the main building, where I and the others were standing and to this day I am convinced that he smiled knowingly at me.