"Little Amy" - Air Marshall Islands' DC-8
By Dave Glover
November 1, 2002
In the early 1990s, Air Marshall Islands, or "AMI", leased and operated a
unique DC-8-62. Now, Dave Glover, who worked with this classic combi jetliner,
tells the story and shows the pictures of one of the most unique and far-reaching
jets ever in air service...
In 1986, the Marshall Islands, after almost four decades under the administration
of the U.S. as part of the UN Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands, gained
its independence, with Majuro as the capital. It comprises two island chains
of 30 atolls and no less than 1,152 islands. Bikini and Enewetak are former
U.S. nuclear test sites, and Kwajalein, the famous World War ll battleground,
is now used as a U.S. missile test range. The total area of the Islands is
about the size of Washington, D.C. with a population of approximately 71,000.
Its highest point is a mere 30 feet, and lies half way between Hawaii and
Papua New Guinea. If you're flying from Honolulu, it'll take approximately
5 hours 15 minutes by jet...
Air Marshall Islands was born in 1980 through the leadership of then-President
Amata Kabua with 2 small Nomad aircraft. Later, 2 Dornier 228s replaced the
2 Nomads and a Hawker Siddeley 748 provided service to Kiribati, Tuvalu,
and Fiji.
In the late '80s, Air Marshall Islands found it needed a larger, faster aircraft
with more cargo space, and one that could reach the mainland U.S. or similar
destinations with 11-hour non-stop capabilities, initially to carry fresh
tuna to the world’s markets. A DC-8-62 combi aircraft with a freight cargo
door was selected from Aerolease and International Air leases, in Miami,
Florida. The original configuration was 5 pallet positions for freight with
each pallet capable of holding 800 cubic feet and 8500 pounds, and approximately
100 passenger seats. The final configuration - in 1995 - was 9 pallets for
freight and 52 seats for passengers due to the increase in freight and mail
demand between Honolulu, Majuro, and Kwajalein.
This aircraft opened a new lifeline to and from the Marshalls with its huge
cargo capacity for cars, trucks, mail, large diesel turbines, building materials,
and Majuro’s famous fresh blue fin tuna (some fish sold in Tokyo for as much
as $50,000 each). The tuna boxes weighed well over 400 pounds each and were
6 feet long. They were flown to Honolulu and transferred to Northwest Airlines
bound for Tokyo. In 1995, that aircraft brought enough fish to Northwest
to make Air Marshall Islands its number 1 interline carrier; sometimes bringing
in 40,000 pounds on a single trip.
In 1992, "Little Amy", a name taken from the abbreviated 3 letter code AMI,
performed part of a never-before completed and historic Guinness Book of
Records trip for the internationally famous cyclist Emilio Scotto. Emilio
started his round-the-world jaunt in 1985 in Argentina with his “Black Princess”
Honda 1100 Gold Wing. He showed up in my office and explained what he was
attempting to do and wondered if we could help him with the next leg of his
Pacific journey. Again Little Amy was the only and natural choice, and sure
proud to carry Emilio and “The Black Princess” from Honolulu to Majuro on
his way west. When Emilio arrived in Honolulu, he had 8 years of constant
travel to 142 countries, traveled 291,000 miles using 10,000 gallons of fuel,
140 gallons of oil, replaced 61 tires, gone through 7 passports with 64 pages
each, taken 5000 photos and spent $300,000. He still had 72 countries and
approximately 140,000 miles yet to be traveled. The website “EmilioScotto.com”
tells the rest of the story. An article published in the July 1993 issue
of Motorcylismo recounts Little Amy’s part in this epic journey.
Undaunted in its search for new destinations, Little Amy undertook a weekly
charter for the Republic of Kiribati to Christmas Island (Kiritimati)(CXI).
Christmas Island has 3 towns worthy of mention; Poland, London, and Banana,
where the airport is. During World War ll it was used as a transient point
for the U.S. due to its strategic location in the Pacific. It is directly
south of Honolulu approximately 1350 miles, or 3 hours jet flight time. The
U.S. built concrete runways, one of which is still in use today of approximately
6900 feet, and 2 underground aviation fuel tanks of 50,000 gallon-capacity
each. The airport is daylight-op.s-only due to a lack of instrument approaches
and landings.
On one trip, we had an unusual freight shipment of about 20 straw hand brooms,
which we didn’t give much thought at the time, even though there was some
kidding going on as to what they were going to be used for. The next week
right after landing, as the thrust reversers were engaged, we were suddenly
blinded by a dusty blast... we couldn't have seen our hands in front of our
faces. It was like we were in a dust bowl. Needless to say, there were moments
of panic from passengers and sweaty palms from the flight crew. But we were
on the ground, still on the runway being led by the dust bowl. Upon blocking
in and inquiring what the heck was going on, we soon found that the previous
week’s shipment of brooms were to hand sweep the runway and fill the multitude
of cracks with what I guessed to be crushed coral.
After a few trips we decided to try carrying some vehicles. We gave the cargo
door sill height to some folks there and with ingenuity, built a ramp that
would be positioned on a flat bed truck that would then back up perpendicular
to the aircraft. Getting vehicles and other large, heavy pieces of freight
was all, and still is, sheer manpower. The only mechanized piece of equipment
they have is a small capacity forklift that didn’t quite reach the door sill.
The ramp crew were more than a willing bunch and there was never any piece
of freight that they couldn’t take off, despite the painful working in sandals
or bare feet. About 6 to 8 workers would grab the vehicle by the rear bumper,
or whatever they could grab onto, and bounce the vehicle 90 degrees and steer
the vehicle out the cargo door onto the truck ramp. If we had more than 2
vehicles, then the flatbed would drive away, separate the cab, add to more
ramps to the flatbed, and roll the vehicles off. Then they would reverse
the procedure to get the additional vehicles and heavy pieces off. And all
of that offloading/loading of freight and passengers, processing of paperwork
was done within an hour and a half. Now finished, the ground crew was fed
lunch from Honolulu catering of sandwiches, milk, water, and juice while
sitting on the ramp under the wing of Little Amy. These kinds of operations
became a steady diet at CXI. Our combi only let us down one time while we
were on the ground at CXI just before departure.
Because the DC-8 didn’t have an APU (auxiliary power unit), we had to leave
number 4 engine running the entire time we were on the ground with the Flight
Engineering monitoring the engine’s heat etc. One day when we were ready
to fire up and go, we couldn’t get number 4 engine to cross bleed air necessary
to start another engine. Sweat and prayers didn’t work after many attempts.
There we were, three hours from home base in Honolulu, no air-start unit
available, and no aircraft available to bring one down from home base. You
can imagine the lingo mixed up in that blue air in the cockpit and on the
ground. Lo and behold, someone noticed an old Boeing air-start unit tucked
under a lean-to behind fish boxes, straw, miscellaneous boxes, and old crates.
And it still rotated when moved by hand. After a period of cleaning dust,
straw, grit, and mice nests from the air exhaust port, we put some fresh
fuel in and begged for it to start. No go... the internal electric system
was rotted and looked like we should have pushed it into the ocean. So, we
shut the aircraft down and started making calls to find an air-start and
an aircraft to bring it down at all cost. That night we were given rooms
and a very welcome barbeque. The next sun up brought new hope; there was
an electrical engineer who may be able to help. It turned out to be the Honorable
Teiraoi Tetabea of the Kiribati Government. He rallied a couple of pickup
trucks, a couple of large capacity batteries, some wire, and a whole lot
of know-how to bypass the bad systems in the air-start unit with his "kit
of tools" and possibly get that ole Boeing to spring to life again. The air
start cranked and cranked. Then, with some more tinkering and cleaning out
of more debris from the unit's air supply system, it was cranked again. Believing
they were ready to get it lit off, the air hose was connected to the nose
of the aircraft and the next few cranks brought life into that unit with
a blast of flames that singed those around it (all that cranking before was
filling it with fuel and all it needed was some ignition). We hit the switch
for air flow and while not quite what we wanted, it looked promising the
more it ran. Freight was loaded, passengers were boarded, the aircraft was
closed up and ready to go. The old Boeing held the key to success now. It
looked as though we might get a crack at a hot start. It worked. That happy
whine was back. The rest of the systems along with a hand start on one engine
put Little Amy back to meet her appointed duties; to Honolulu with a turn
to Majuro albeit a day late. We later found out that the cost of bringing
an air start down was is the neighborhood of $80,000.
I recall that when we finally got the DC-8 started on Christmas Island after
an overnight, the catering for the return trip to Honolulu had gone bad and
was thrown away. With the engines now running, I promptly ordered 50 "ham
and cheese" sandwiches, simply becuase it was the quickest thing that the
Captain Cook Hotel could put together for us. Twenty minutes later the sandwiches
were delivered, but they had interpreted the order as 50 "ham" and 50 "cheese"
sandwhiches, and I discovered that we actually had 100 sandwiches, 50 ham
and 50 cheese. A final smile before we left.
We had another incident later in Honolulu. On departure for Majuro and Kwajalein,
we got a call from the tower and state ramp control asking if the crew reported
any discrepancy on lift off because they saw some fair size pieces of metal
fall off the aircraft. Well, after calling the aircraft back to the ramp,
it was plain to see what had happened; an engine cowling had been torn from
the aircraft. Fortunately no one or property had been hit. When the crew
was asked if they had seen any difference in the aircraft’s operation; they
did mention that that one engine was running a little cooler than the rest.
In mid 1996, at the request of the Marshallese Government, Little Amy - N799AL
- was returned to the Lessors. Never before or after has a jetliner done
the things that this particular machine of aviation history did in fulfilling
its duties, here in the Marshall Islands - and doing it all with little more
than the occasional whimper. The aircraft will long be remembered by all
she bared herself to and loved by those who knew her best.
On March 11, 1996 The Senate of the State of Hawaii - Honoring Air Marshall
Islands - commended and expressed appreciation to Air Marshall Islands, its
management and employees for its strategic marketing support, exemplary services
to customers, and other noteworthy contributions over the years to the residents
and visitors of the State of Hawaii.
Written by
Dave Glover
Dave Glover started his aviation career with the Flying Tiger Line, in 1962.
Since then, he has worked for Airlift International Airways, Permian Airways,
Air Marshall Islands, Rich International Airways, and Hawaiian Air Lines.
He retired from Hawaiian in 2002 after four decades of aviation work.