Since you asked, this is the end of the story, from the late Alec Caudell and propilotworld.com:
Part two.
Well this was an interesting development, none of us had ever flown a Merlin, we had to get home, the guy paying us was not going to pay for airline tickets and if we didn’t take the Merlin II back to him, we wouldn’t be paid. It was a hell of a situation to say the least. Okay, I had flown a Kingair 90 for a few years and had also flown MU-2s. But still. So Laurel and Hardy and I sit down to talk this over. Laurel had never flown a turbo-prop of any kind, but Hardy had a few hours of co-pilot time in a Kingair. We figured that the Merlin II was basically a Kingair with a different fuselage mounted on a Queen Air wing, just like the Kingair, with same type PT-6 engines. Hell, how different could it be, there should be checklist and a flight manual (that what POMs were called back then) on the Merlin, all PT-6s operated the same. Shoot it was just a Kingair with different fuselage. So the three of us decide that I would fly it and Hardy would sit in the right seat running the checklist and to read the flight manual if the need should arise. Laurel and The Colonel would ride in the back, drinking the Scotch and act like big shots. It was a plan, we reviewed the plan and found it a good plan. So it was said, so it was written, so it was, done. Almost.
As we were metaphorically patting each on the back for coming up with such a clever plan, the Merlin is towed up in front of the FBO where we are sitting. Right away I see a problem. It is not just a Merlin II, nope, it’s a Merlin IIB, with TPE-331 engines, not PT-6s. Right then, now we have a Queen Air wing and landing gear, upside down MU-2 engines and some other guy’s fuselage. So Laurel and Hardy and I sit down to discuss this latest predicament. We reason that we can still figure this out and get this thing home, get us home and get us paid. After all, I had flown MU-2s with TPE-331 engines, so I knew how to operate them, right side up or not, hell the engines didn’t know they were upside down, right? One more time we metaphorically pat each other on the back for coming up with another clever plan, a Plan B.
Now you may have noticed that there was an omission in our planning endeavors, The Colonel had not been included, as he had wandered off somewhere. He did this quite often and all three of us had flown with The Colonel, so this was nothing new. Never the less I was a bit concerned about his absence during our superior planning sessions. Just about the time I bring up the absence of The Colonel, he shows up and tells me to check the weather and file a flight plan back home. Before I can reply, Hardy jumps up and tells The Colonel of our clever Plan B. Hardy was kind of a suck-up at times, like this time. The Colonel thinks about our Plan B for about one second, then announces that it sounds good to him, with one exception, he’ll fly the Merlin, Hardy will still be the co-pilot and then he tells Hardy to check the weather and file the flight plan. Then tells Laurel and me to go pre-flight the Merlin. Obviously there was a Plan C that we were unaware of.
As Hardy scurries off to do The Colonel’s bidding Laurel and I look at each other thinking the same thing, ‘has The Colonel ever flown any kind of turbo-prop?’. So I ask him, “Jim (not his real name) have you ever flown a turbo-prop, any kind of a turbo-prop?” The Colonel pauses for a second or two, looks at us and says, “Well no I have not, always wanted to so now is my chance. Matter of fact I have not flown a propeller driven aircraft since I was transitioned from the P-51 to the P-80 back in 1946.” Oh shit.
He could tell from the expression on our faces that we were not overly thrilled about this latest development. “Look you two, I flew captured MIGs and other types of Soviet aircraft when I was flying at Edwards, hell the only language that were in the cockpits of those things were either in Russian or Chinese, so this Merlin will be a piece of cake. Don’t worry, we’ll make it.” God I hated it when he said that, “We’ll make it.”
We tried to talk him out of it, but to no avail. He was flying the Merlin back home and that was final. Now we knew that he was telling the truth about flying Soviet aircraft and it was a fact that he had been a test pilot at Edwards, knew Chuck Yeager and all that stuff. Above all, he was probably the finest stick and rudder pilot I ever flew with. It was just at times one could say his judgment was a bit questionable, like flying through a thunderstorm that morning. So resigned to the inevitable, Laurel and I go out to the Merlin, pre-flight it, located the check lists and the flight manual, which we put into the cockpit. Then I filled the ice chest in bar, filled the water container in the bar and grabbed some cups from the FBO. If The Colonel was not going to sit in the back and drink Scotch, by God Laurel and I were.
The Colonel and Hardy come out and get in the aircraft, I shut the door and then go up to the cockpit to make sure that they will start the engines without blowing them up or melting them. We get the engines started and as they are getting ready to taxi out I ask Hardy about the weather, he says “Remember that line of thunderstorms, they’re still there. But don’t worry, we’ll make it.”, then he gives me this smart arse smile. I almost hit him, but instead I go back in the cabin and sit down in the left mid-forward facing seat next to Laurel. We taxi out and takeoff barely avoiding snap rolling back onto the runway because the engines were so badly out of rig that when the throttles were even at the full power positon, the right engine was at only about 70% and left at about 120%. However, after I jumped out of my seat and into the cockpit to even out the power, which resulted in a split of about two inches between the throttles we were off and running west bound back home and into a line of thunderstorms, again.
From what Flight Service told Hardy the line ended just south of Little Rock and he had flight planned accordingly. So thinking we’ll have an uneventful ride home Laurel and I setting back to enjoy the ride and enjoy the Scotch. Pretty soon we were IMC but still in smooth air and could occasionally see the ground, I moved to the left rearward facing seat and had my feet on the opposite seat. Hey, it was a sales aircraft, who cared if you put your feet on the seats.
As I am sitting there, sipping my Scotch I notice Laurel was staring into the cockpit, intensely. Pretty soon he looks at me and says, “You need to look at this.” So I switch back to the forward facing seat and look into the cockpit, at the radar to be precise. ‘Oh shit, not again.’ The radar screen is covered with returns, nearly solid returns. We just look at each other, take a big gulp of Scotch and chinch our seatbelts down as tight as we can. The Colonel flies between two cells, then turns to miss another one and flies us right into the side of another one.
WHAM! We hit another brick wall. Crap in the cabin flies everywhere, thinking ahead I had put my hand on top of my cup to prevent my Scotch from departing the cup and landing all over me. Laurel was not so quick of thinking, we both watch as his entire drink, and I swear this happened, came out of his cup, paused and then fell back into his cup only spilling a few drops. As we were looking at each other in amazement we hit more severe turbulence and my head hit the ceiling of the cabin. For the next 30 or 40 minutes The Colonel and Hardy flies us in and out of thunderstorms, with me hitting my head on the ceiling, until we finally pop out into clear air, probably by accident. I yelled up to the cockpit asking them if they would like to turn around and go back, as I think they might have missed a cell or two.
With that excitement over all that was left was the landing, which proved to be very interesting as the engines were not quite in rig, providing quite a bit of amusement to the folks in the tower as the Merlin swerved from side to side of the runway as engines went in and out of reverse until The Colonel just stood on the brakes out of desperation to get us stopped.
There wasn’t much Scotch left in the bottle by the time we parked.
As it turned out this was my last trip with the Colonel, he soon left to go to work for an aircraft manufacture in St. Louis that made, you guessed it, fighter aircraft. Please do not get the wrong idea about the Colonel, he was one of the best sick and rudder pilot I ever flew with and he taught me a lot, including not what to do. It was his judgment that I would sometimes question, such as flying me through two thunderstorms on the same day.
But if you ever wanted a pilot that could get the maximum out of an aircraft, he was your man.
