I'm sure the DEA is on to this
1989
President Bush is hotting up the war on drugs. It has presented such a perplexing problem for so long that, up until something had to be done, nothing was. I have been a close observer of our drug problem for a number of years now; first as a fledgeling cropduster pilot in the deep south whose more experienced friends related offers that they'd had for flying shipments from the Bahamas. A phone call a week. One of my friends got because they knew that he could fly a DC 3. He kept refusing, but every week that phone call would come. "Sure as clockwork, waiting for a weak moment." One of my flight instructors at that time kept making whispered conversation, which I occasionally, through the thin cubicle walls, heard parts of about " that deal down south that I'm into." Recently I ran into one of my fellow students who informed me, 12 years later, that "Jack got caught running drugs and is serving time."
During my commercial flight training while I was one of Jack' students, I worked for an aircraft rebuilder who bought wrecks from insurance companies. Once he sent me to South Carolina to clean up the engine nacelle of a light twin that he had recently purchased. It turned out that it was a Cessna 402. When I arrived to clean it up I found the right engine nacelle burned out. It was a mess so I got to work cleaning it up, scraping away all of the burnt rubber, replacing parts etc. I took the vacuum pump apart out of curiosity and found its carbon vanes crumbled like so much stepped on grahm cracker. After a week there I learned that "that's a druggies airplane. See, they taped over the numbers with electricians tape." I saw that the tail numbers had been ineptly changed, and that some of the tape was hanging out of plac due to wind friction. There was a 75 gallon aux tank sitting behind the copilot seat that I found still full of fuel. " What happened was." my newly found informant continued. "was that a couple of local boys got the idea that they could make a run down to Columbia for some drugs so they stole a local doctor's airplane, taped over the numbers, had a garage mechanic friend install the aux tank and swage it into the fuel system. They made it to Columbia alright, but over the Carolina coast their engine caught fire. They must have been smoking some of the profits because instead of landing on the beach or somewhere and running into the woods they declared an emergency and made a landing here, at a tower controlled airport. I mean they rolled right up to the foot of the tower. After the airfield fire department put them out they found their marijuana and called the cops, who hauled them off to jail. I guess they didn't want to part with that dope no matter what the cost."
After I had finished cleaning up the engine to the point wher my bosses A&P mechanic that was to arrive could tune it up for th flight back to the hangar in Georgia I got to looking for the source of the fire and took a good look at the aux 75 gallon fuel tank that the dopers had installed. At the bottom of the fuel tank there was a petcock on the fuel line that ran up underneath the floor boards between the pilot and co-pilots seat where the fuel tank selector was. It wasn't easily accessible, but I could tell that the garage mechanic had done a commendable job of swaging. Upon closer inspection I noticed that he had not connected into a fuel line but the vacuum line. On an aircraft some of the gyro instruments are air driven by running high pressure air over a wheel with airbuckets in it. The source of this high pressure air is an engine driven vacuum pump. After the vacuum pump draws air from its source under the instrument panel and over the air bucket in the necessary instruments it vents it overboard via a short aluminum tube extending out of the pump-right into the engine compartment. The source of the fire was readily apparent. Before the fuel had pulverized the vacuum pump enough was sprayed through the vent tube into the engine compartment, all over the exhaust manifold etc, and caused the fire.
That story should convince anyone on how easy it must have been to run dope in those days. Anyone with just a little more smarts than those two probably had little trouble getting rich fast.
Now the dope being run into this country, approximately 300 planes a day are crossing the border, is big business and I presume they are a little more organized than the ordinary mom and pop operations of yesteryear. Through the governments pressures and recent policies it is necessary to buy protection at a multitude of levels in both countries before it can be transported with impunity. Juan Valdez isn't into growing coffee anymore; especially when he can sell the doper a planeload of drugs for big bucks, and before the dopers wheels are in the well, double his money by calling the U.S. authorities with all of the information he can supply.
I know of a fool proof way of running drugs into the U.S. which even our two dumb jailbirds can get away with. I can do it any time I choose. The D.E.A. knows about it, I'm sure, but it is so fool proof that the newspapers won't write about it. I know a way that is so safe, and fool proof that anyone who its explained to would agree. I can do it with my own airplane. I can fly South of the border and buy all I want from good old Senor Valdez. I won't have to tape over my numbers, disguise my identity in any way, or even sneak back over the border under radar coverage, as a matter of fact I'll fly at 14,ooo feet and file a flight plan to boot. Mind you I can only fly about 800 pounds of cocaine at a time and have to take reasonable precautions about being toooo obvious, but I'll get away with it time and time again. I'll even throw in the quarter for Mr. Juan Valdez to make his phone call to the D.E.A. I won't need a long range airplane either; a single engine one like a C-182 will do, and I won't even need a full tank of fue much less an aux tank. All the fuel I'll need will be enough to take me to the U.S. border-and then land somewhere on the beach in Mexico. That's right, I'll never even cross the border, but I could and still get away with it because I'm going to turn around and land in Mexico anyway. No customs to deal with. No nothing, except that by the time I land the dope will no longer be in the airplane , but on its way to market.
1989
President Bush is hotting up the war on drugs. It has presented such a perplexing problem for so long that, up until something had to be done, nothing was. I have been a close observer of our drug problem for a number of years now; first as a fledgeling cropduster pilot in the deep south whose more experienced friends related offers that they'd had for flying shipments from the Bahamas. A phone call a week. One of my friends got because they knew that he could fly a DC 3. He kept refusing, but every week that phone call would come. "Sure as clockwork, waiting for a weak moment." One of my flight instructors at that time kept making whispered conversation, which I occasionally, through the thin cubicle walls, heard parts of about " that deal down south that I'm into." Recently I ran into one of my fellow students who informed me, 12 years later, that "Jack got caught running drugs and is serving time."
During my commercial flight training while I was one of Jack' students, I worked for an aircraft rebuilder who bought wrecks from insurance companies. Once he sent me to South Carolina to clean up the engine nacelle of a light twin that he had recently purchased. It turned out that it was a Cessna 402. When I arrived to clean it up I found the right engine nacelle burned out. It was a mess so I got to work cleaning it up, scraping away all of the burnt rubber, replacing parts etc. I took the vacuum pump apart out of curiosity and found its carbon vanes crumbled like so much stepped on grahm cracker. After a week there I learned that "that's a druggies airplane. See, they taped over the numbers with electricians tape." I saw that the tail numbers had been ineptly changed, and that some of the tape was hanging out of plac due to wind friction. There was a 75 gallon aux tank sitting behind the copilot seat that I found still full of fuel. " What happened was." my newly found informant continued. "was that a couple of local boys got the idea that they could make a run down to Columbia for some drugs so they stole a local doctor's airplane, taped over the numbers, had a garage mechanic friend install the aux tank and swage it into the fuel system. They made it to Columbia alright, but over the Carolina coast their engine caught fire. They must have been smoking some of the profits because instead of landing on the beach or somewhere and running into the woods they declared an emergency and made a landing here, at a tower controlled airport. I mean they rolled right up to the foot of the tower. After the airfield fire department put them out they found their marijuana and called the cops, who hauled them off to jail. I guess they didn't want to part with that dope no matter what the cost."
After I had finished cleaning up the engine to the point wher my bosses A&P mechanic that was to arrive could tune it up for th flight back to the hangar in Georgia I got to looking for the source of the fire and took a good look at the aux 75 gallon fuel tank that the dopers had installed. At the bottom of the fuel tank there was a petcock on the fuel line that ran up underneath the floor boards between the pilot and co-pilots seat where the fuel tank selector was. It wasn't easily accessible, but I could tell that the garage mechanic had done a commendable job of swaging. Upon closer inspection I noticed that he had not connected into a fuel line but the vacuum line. On an aircraft some of the gyro instruments are air driven by running high pressure air over a wheel with airbuckets in it. The source of this high pressure air is an engine driven vacuum pump. After the vacuum pump draws air from its source under the instrument panel and over the air bucket in the necessary instruments it vents it overboard via a short aluminum tube extending out of the pump-right into the engine compartment. The source of the fire was readily apparent. Before the fuel had pulverized the vacuum pump enough was sprayed through the vent tube into the engine compartment, all over the exhaust manifold etc, and caused the fire.
That story should convince anyone on how easy it must have been to run dope in those days. Anyone with just a little more smarts than those two probably had little trouble getting rich fast.
Now the dope being run into this country, approximately 300 planes a day are crossing the border, is big business and I presume they are a little more organized than the ordinary mom and pop operations of yesteryear. Through the governments pressures and recent policies it is necessary to buy protection at a multitude of levels in both countries before it can be transported with impunity. Juan Valdez isn't into growing coffee anymore; especially when he can sell the doper a planeload of drugs for big bucks, and before the dopers wheels are in the well, double his money by calling the U.S. authorities with all of the information he can supply.
I know of a fool proof way of running drugs into the U.S. which even our two dumb jailbirds can get away with. I can do it any time I choose. The D.E.A. knows about it, I'm sure, but it is so fool proof that the newspapers won't write about it. I know a way that is so safe, and fool proof that anyone who its explained to would agree. I can do it with my own airplane. I can fly South of the border and buy all I want from good old Senor Valdez. I won't have to tape over my numbers, disguise my identity in any way, or even sneak back over the border under radar coverage, as a matter of fact I'll fly at 14,ooo feet and file a flight plan to boot. Mind you I can only fly about 800 pounds of cocaine at a time and have to take reasonable precautions about being toooo obvious, but I'll get away with it time and time again. I'll even throw in the quarter for Mr. Juan Valdez to make his phone call to the D.E.A. I won't need a long range airplane either; a single engine one like a C-182 will do, and I won't even need a full tank of fue much less an aux tank. All the fuel I'll need will be enough to take me to the U.S. border-and then land somewhere on the beach in Mexico. That's right, I'll never even cross the border, but I could and still get away with it because I'm going to turn around and land in Mexico anyway. No customs to deal with. No nothing, except that by the time I land the dope will no longer be in the airplane , but on its way to market.
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