Reporting to "take charge" as instructed I put on my parka and boots. I was prepared for the weather at least. It was not easy to talk the motel driver into taking me to the airport. Although I was a member of "management", instructors usually didn't rate a car. I was picked up at the terminal and rode out to the site under airport escort. There were only about a dozen mechanics in Cleveland at that time and at least six were there.
To start with, it was obvious the aircraft had to be dragged out. No powering out in real life like a certain movie showed. It was going to take a lot of cable and something better than a T300 with chains. To start with, we had to trench the wheels which meant digging down and making a ramp for them. There were some cargo pallets available so I had something to pull the aircraft up onto. You can't drag it through the dirt. The mechanics were not enthusiastic about the digging. I was not enthusiastic about inheriting the problem.
Fortunately, one of the guys was in the Air National Guard who had a station on the airport. Wonder of wonders there were people there. Did they have any heavy cable? Miles of it! Did they have shackles? Bins full! Was that a Cletrac I saw? It sure was! (Cletracs are tractors with treads that go in snow). Best of all they wanted a chance to practice an aircraft recovery. Well maybe using "they" was stretching the point. The Major was in favor of it. Always one to cooperate with our armed forces, I volunteered our airplane. I signed away my life and Eastern career (if things went wrong) by giving them a hold-harmless agreement.
What started as a nightmare became, well, not easy, but certainly a lot easier. We dug out the trenches needed and put pallet boards down. We made a trail back to the main taxiway. We even found the Eastern taxiway by probing for it. We shackled the cables to the tow points on the main gear and stretched out a lot of very cranky steel cable. Only those who have worked with heavy steel cable know what I mean. Loose strands cut through gloves like hypodermic needles. It kinks and twists given the slightest chance. You don't want to stand near it when it is under strain.
The Cletrac made it look easy. It walked that airplane right out of the trenches up onto the surface pallets and with some cable adjustments got it onto the taxiway. The T300 could handle it from there and it was off to the hangar. Up on jacks, clean the wheels and brakes, inspect the props and it made its morning flight. Nothing like luck to make you look good. Or at least somewhat good. I had to report on it on the 10:00 a.m. maintenance briefing, a company-wide phone hookup.
Obviously, I held no classes on Monday. Tuesday would have been a good day to start except during the night they towed a B-720 into a hangar door. The only "management" in town had to go and look at it. With only a few mechanics on duty they had enlisted a rampie to "watch the left wingtip as we tow the big Boeing in." He did exactly that and watched it run into the door and crumple. He was a very good watcher, but poor at communicating.
I had to communicate it the next morning on the 10:00 a.m. briefing. Somehow, by a process of transference, I was assuming the blame for their mishaps. Messengers do get shot. May I also say we capped a wonderful week in Cleveland by dragging a CV-440 into a pillar in the hangar? The 28-volt self-propelled power cart also doubled as a light duty tug. The somewhat worn linkage fell past center and the engine surged into what normally would be the "generate" mode. It wouldn't come out of gear either. The unit's brakes wouldn't hold it and the man in the cockpit didn't wake up to hit the brakes. It is not often that you can see the Captain's rudder pedals from the outside of the aircraft.
To say the central region area director was not amused is an understatement. He arrived on the maintenance department’s Constellation freighter. He bounced down the ladder and made the hangar door in two jumps. Fortunately, the manager had returned so the wrath of (near) God was turned on him.