Transcription of Document FFDoc-1246.pdf

Tripoli, Libya, Wed, March 11, 1970

Dear family and other listeners,

Although this letter may not reach home before I do, I had better try to hurry up through the rest of my narration, to give it some kind of completeness. I think that I last left you writing from Tripoli, but telling of our arrival at Gialo, the farthest oil camp on the Oasis pipeline. That was Thursday, March 5, almost a week ago. That afternoon we inspected the pump station, the electrical high yard, the power switchgear, and talked to the power system operator. That pretty much used up the day, and required several pages of field notes. Sometime between 5 and 6 PM we quit for the day. Dinner is served in the dining or mess hall from 6:30 to 8 PM. Although no alcoholic drinks are available in Tripoli and other coastal or oasis cities, the lack of such refreshment proved a serious problem in the oil camps after the Sept. 1 revolution. Apparently morale was very poor in the "dry" period, with many threats of the expatriates that they would quit Libya if the situation wasn't eased. Like, think about a dry Labor Day Weekend in your own neighborhood, and then imagine how these fellows, out in the desert for a month at a time with little entertainment, no wives, family or girlfriends, and a 7-day workweek, cottoned to the idea of no "juice" after a hard day's work. Finally the revolutionary regime gave in and permitted the dispensing of alcoholic beverages, under strict control, only in the oil camps. No Muslims are permitted to be served, nor allowed in the camp bar (there's one in each major station), nor may drinks be consumed anywhere else but at the bar. Libyan police, in required numbers, are in attendance at each camp for this purpose and other security reasons. So, to shorten my story, between quitting time and dinner time at each camp the social and other drinkers congregate for conversation, joviality, free roasted peanuts, imported (Holland, Dutch and Irish) beer and cocktails or highballs at something less than 45¢ per drink. An outsider like me must join the Club, to be served legally, and for his 1 Libyan Pound ($2.80) membership fee gets a free drink.  I remember that dinner that evening, incidentally, included steak and boiled meat. I tried the latter and found it very tasty. As you youngsters know, I am partial to stews (the food type, that is).

On Friday we breakfasted by 7:30 and then completed our work at Gialo station by talking to the area operations supervisor about how some of the power system problems might be solved without disturbing oil production very much. At mid-morning we went to the air strip and boarded the single-engine 4-seat DeHaviland ("Beaver") plane which takes small parties up and down the pipeline to the various camps. Our next stop was Waha, about 100 miles away, and the central camp of the system. The flights in the Beaver are particularly interesting because the plane flies fairly low - about 800 to 1000 ft, and has very large windows affording, but for the desert dust on the plastic panes, an excellent view. Once again we arrived just in time for lunch, and afterwards spent most of the afternoon checking the switchgear, high yard, gas turbine units, etc, and discussing problems with the local personnel. I wanted to see the Zaggut and Samah pump stations which are further toward the coast (Mediterranean) and about 43 and 60 miles away, respectively. These are small stations with only the security guard at Zaggut and a small staff at Samah. I had thought we would go to these places on Saturday, but Bill Floyd, the Oasis engineer I was travelling with, proposed we go lat Fri after noon, and managed to get the assistant maintenance supervisor, - a Frank Stanley, Englishman - to drive us in a Land Rover - a 4-wheel-drive jeep-like English truck. With a local man driving, we could cut across the desert avoiding the longer route by road, and so some dune-hopping. Let me say it was quite an experience! From the air the desert reveals millions of criss-crossing vehicle tracks, and you imagine the World War II North African campaign military vehicles must have caused them. But it's strictly from the oil company vehicles.

Most of the time we travelled at top speed, even when things got jouncy, as the terrain is mostly flat and the sand hard in that area. But several times we had to cross stretches of rather high sand dunes running north to south. Ten the technique is the charge up the near side at good speed and low gear to keep traction, and at the top to slow to a near-halt till you can look over the far side and see if there's a reasonably non-perpendicular slope to roll down. Many men have been hurt, or worse, in going over the dunes without this last precaution. Sometimes the dune gets so high that parts of it slide away, leaving a steep "slip face", almost perpendicular. If you top such a dune at high speed, you go flying off into space and possible injury. W didn't encounter any slip faces, but a neophyte (beginner) like me thought some of those far slopes too steep to be driven down. But we did. And the vehicle had to be driven down; it won't roll down, because the sand resists the rolling of the wheels. I took my camera on this trip, and hope that the pictures I took of the dunes and the desert "flowers" (there is plant life in this barren land) come out perfectly, so you may see.

I won't go into our stops at the Zaggut and Samah pump stations. But when we started back, Frank Stanley, our driver, was worried that we might not get back in time. On our trip out we had swung North a bit to see the dunes. On our trip back we headed somewhat South, to avoid them as much as possible in the fading light. Frank drive at top speed, about 50-55 mph, flat-out across the desert. I couldn't catch any landmarks in that (to me) unrelieved flatness. But Frank did, and he steered also by the smoke from the flare pipes, where the oil camps burn, day and night, the gas that's separated from the oil before it's put into the pipeline. Frank would see this smoke five minutes before I did, and guided the truck by it. The dunes on our return trip were just in the last 5 miles or so. We got to them just after dark, and soon Frank was driving with the headlights. He seemed quite sure of his path, however, and we rolled into Waha in the full dark, ready for a drink of beer and then dinner. Since the camp bar closes around 10 PM, we were early to bed for the next day's work.

We were supposed to fly up to the Northernmost camp, Dahra, at mid-day Saturday, March 7. But the winds were blowing that morning and the sand was in the air, and you couldn't see very far. Though we went out to board the Beaver after a morning's work, the pipeline radio at the last minute reported low ceiling and poor visibility, and a rain storm with high winds at Dahra. Since we couldn't land under such conditions, we obviously didn't take off. We hung on in the camp area, checking out a sparking exciter for a generator, and talking to the right people about "wrong" electrical problems, till night fell, and the bar opened again. (You must all think I got a lot of experience guzzling!). On Sunday morning (no church services in camp; everybody's working) the winds were still high at Dahra, so Floyd drove me down to the South Defa well area to see where the new generators are going in. Then back to Waha for lunch and finally off in the Beaver in mid-afternoon. That part of the trip is over continually changing land, and I took many pictures. On the way we stopped on the Gattar Station sand landing strip. This is an unattended station, and a truck is left parked by the air strip, so when you fly in you taxi right up to the vehicle and use it. After checking the Gattar station, it was on to Dahra, in time for Dinner. The next day, Monday, we went all over the Dahra electrical (main) facilities, did our questioning of personnel, and in late morning caught the F27 2-enging Fokker jet back to Tripoli. So here I've been working at Oasis Co's offices the past 2 days, and getting ready to leave here on Friday for Rome, Italy. I've been working the past 2½ weeks, in the States and here, with only one day off. So I'm spending this weekend in Rome, and catching a flight back to the States, and home, on Monday. Hope to see the family and many of you soon, and that you all liked the travelogue.

Love and Best wishes, Dad (Frank)