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A friend of mine is considering fronting the publishing in the US of a book on the recovery of the Finnish Buffalo. It was written by one of the principles involved and i'm not sure but possibly published in Europe.
A little feedback appreciate and here's a sample.........
Two camps were erected on the spot, one closer to the road, the other about 500 metres away. High rocks meant that the camp could not be erected at the place where the aeroplane was to be raised. Both camps had to be guarded and schoolboys on the spot performed the job, also distinguishing themselves as carriers.
The weather was not favourable to the lifters, as it was drizzling for most of the time. There was also the continuous whine of mosquitoes and the small flies that forced their way into people’s mouths and nostrils to contend with. Judging by the fresh traces of paws, there were bears and lake beavers in the neighbourhood.
Moving the things required for lifting the aeroplane from the camp that was closer to the road to the spot where the aeroplane had been discovered was tough. Mikhail Styanin, Nikolai Prytkov and 16-year-old Yevgenii Prytkov did most of the carrying in the uneven terrain, and used special equipment to carry the 100 kg air canisters. The divers were occupied with work of their own.
The aeroplane had sunk in Lake Iso Kole to a depth of fifteen metres. The water conditions were ideal as regards preservation of the aeroplane. The cold water reduced corrosion, and the mud covering the plane protected the historical artefact from both the flowing water and the air and oxygen. When it fell into the water, the BW-372 had rolled right over and lay at the bottom of the lake on its belly.
Having lain for 56 years in the lake, the plane had pressed deep into the clay sludge. It was exceedingly difficult to detach it from the bottom. The mud dug out from under the plane by the divers spread into the water and onto the plane’s wings whenever it was moved. It was dark in the water and moving about in the muddy gruel was tough. It was exhausting just moving one’s hands in the thick pudding of water and mud. The working conditions were hellish, the only difference being that it was not hot but, rather, freezing cold at the bottom of the lake.
The divers worked in the daytime. At night, while they were resting, the mud redescended onto the plane and the morning began again with clearing. Mud cannot be controlled in the same way as sand. The plane lay at the bottom of the lake in a pit, which sucked mud into it. Finally, the divers succeeded in getting the wide lifting straps underneath the plane.
The Russian divers worked in water at a temperature of 8º C, rising to the surface only once they were blue with cold. They were experienced and expertly equipped. The mud was first cleared off the plane with a snow shovel, and then it was cleaned with a powerful jet of water.
Gary Villiard did not understand the conditions and asked Bruce Perrish to dive down to film the plane. Perrish was also unable to foresee the conditions, since the divers had emerged calmly from the lake and he did not understand what they were saying in Russian. For Perrish, who came from Florida, it was a terrible shock when he entered the freezing, dark and dense mud pudding. Half-dead, he came out of the lake, later observing: “Cold, dark and terrible!”
It took almost a fortnight to fasten the cables for the lift and to wash the mud off the plane. The divers treated the enemy plane respectfully and did everything they could to ensure that it was recovered in the best possible state for future generations. Gary Villiard and Bruce Perrish videoed the raising of the plane from the shore. Prytkov had brought several cameras and a lot of film with him and constantly reminded his own teams that all the stages of the raising of the plane were to be photographed.
Prytkov had to spend his time on bureaucracy. He went to the mayor of the nearby town of Segeza to request an official permit for his company Petro-Avia to raise the plane. He met the mayor several times, and once a lawyer was also present. The mayor did not want to take responsibility for the raising without obtaining confirmation from Petroskoi, the centre of power in Karelia, and the lawyer advised Prytkov on how to proceed. Prytkov drove 320 kilometres to Petroskoi to get the permit. He was treated harshly in the capital of the Republic of Karelia, but the office which he had been urged to approach in Segeza granted Prytkov’s Petro-Avia a permit.
When he returned, Vladimir Prytkov took the permit to the mayor of Segeza and agreed preliminarily that he would spend some of the fee that he would later receive for the plane on computers for Segeza and the village of Popov Porogin. Prytkov promised to hand over the weapons on the plane into the safekeeping of the militia. No one asked for bribes in Segoza. The mayor was sincerely interested in the project, and kindly wished them luck with raising the plane, warning them not to injure themselves.
The divers checked the position of the plane and brought the detachable parts up onto the shore before the actual raising. The first thing that the divers carried out of the lake was the plane’s hood, which was completely undamaged. You could even see through the Perspex window. The pilot’s armoured chair and the weapons in the plane were raised separately.
Two old army dinghies were joined together with bars made from tree trunks to form a raft, in the middle of which a winch was erected for raising the plane.
It took twelve days to clean the plane and position the cables, and the plane started to be raised on 16th August 1998. It was transported a couple of metres below the surface of the water towards the nearest shore.
It took several more days to fasten the tractor tyres underneath the plane’s wings and to inflate them slowly with air. The plane was always lifted up a little with the winch, and then more air was pumped into the tyres. This was how the plane was gradually raised from its hiding place concealed from the world for 56 years, as a memorial to world aviation history. It thus did not reveal itself, as the United States Navy’s Aviation Museum put it on its website. Instead, the discovery and raising of the BW-372 called for numerous people’s knowledge, skills and endurance.
At the moment it was raised, the Brewster looked superb, some parts, such as the engine, gleamed as new. The colours of the plane, green, silver and yellow, had been well preserved. The symbol of the Finnish Air Force since as early as 1918, the swastika, and the markings of the air victories won by the plane were clearly visible, along with the squadron’s lynx symbol. Its original fully inflated Nokia tyres rotated, and the ailerons could be moved up and down. The cockpit devices were completely undamaged. Four loaded machine guns, Pekuri’s skis, a shot glass and a toilet “duck” were found in the plane.
In my father’s plans, the plane would at this stage have been taken swiftly to Finland in accordance with a prior agreement. From there, it would have shipped to the United States to be restored. Prior to shipment, according to Vic Sargon’s plan, a grand banquet would have been held in Helsinki to mark the plane’s discovery. If Finland had been supportive of the searches, as my father had originally suggested to the government, the plane would of course in that case have remained in Finland.
Villiard had stolen the project with dollars in his eyes, and now lacked the expertise to handle the most valuable find in world aviation history. There now began a series of nightmarish events lasting years.
(sivut 85-87)
At some point, the police crept up quietly behind Prytkov and fired close to his ear. For a moment, he lost his hearing.
The police ordered Prytkov to go to Segeza police station for the purposes of drawing up an examination record. He was accused of losing the engine. In Prytkov’s opinion the reason was concocted: when the police arrived at the camp with their guns firing they could not have known that the plane’s engine had disappeared.
- The police would in any case have arrested me, if not on the basis of the engine then for some other reason that they had made up, Prytkov surmises.
As soon as they had registered at the police station, Vladmir Prytkov and Mikhail Styanin were arrested and taken to separate cells. Their photographs and fingerprints were taken, and their shoes, laces and belts were removed. Prytkov’s cell was 2 by 2.5 metres in size and there were two prisoners there already. All three had to rest on a wooden bed covering the whole lockup. Prytkov managed to lie down for two hours, and then he was fetched in the middle of the night for questioning.
The interrogators were the Chief of Police and the Deputy Prosecutor of Segeza District, since the Prosecutor was on leave. The town’s friendly mayor was also present. Prytkov felt ill at ease at having also inconvenienced the mayor.
They asked about the engine and whether foreigners were involved in the project. The Deputy Prosecutor, who looked a shady guy, detailed the sections of law under which Prytkov risked a sentence of 8-15 years. Prytkov said that he did not know anything. He was not sure whether Villiard and Perrish had already left Russia and wanted to make sure that they would not face any difficulties. The interrogators enquired whether the mayor had been bribed. He had not been, Prytkov said, he had not asked for any bribes. Prytkov was taken back to the cell.
Questioning continued later, to no avail. Suddenly, the door opened again and Mikhail Styanin, beaten almost beyond recognition, was brought in front of Prytkov. The questioning continued in the Chief of Police’s room, and they said that Styanin would continue to be beaten.
- Your son is also detained here, we’ll put in him to be raped by the other prisoners if you don’t open your mouth.
At this point, Prytkov realised the gravity of the situation and decided to say where the engine was.
On the afternoon of the second day, a television crew from the press centre of the Karelian Interior Ministry turned up. Prytkov agreed to an interview on condition that he be told how the other members of the group were faring. Getting out of his cell for a moment, he spotted Styanin’s shoes and concluded that he was still under arrest. The television crew told him that his son, brother and the interpreter were fine and free.
On the third day, they returned to the lake, where divers from Karhumäki had been ordered to look for the engine. After sitting handcuffed in the car, Prytkov, trudged in tattered shoes with the police from the road to the shore and tried using his landmarks to advise them where the engine was. It was difficult because he had taken the landmarks from the opposite shore. The divers searched for the object until their oxygen ran out and returned from the lake empty-handed.
(sivut 87-89)
Three days after Prytkov’s and Styanin’s arrest, they were released on condition that they were not to leave Segeza. The charge of 8-15 years’ imprisonment for encroaching on historical property of the state still applied. Prytkov had to register each morning with the police.
Their fellow prisoners said goodbye to the men, Prytkov had nothing but praise for them. Men accused of murder and theft had nursed him by wrapping him in their own clothes. They shared cigarettes with Prytkov and listened eagerly to his accounts of the latest political developments.
- One of them might of course have been a spy, Prytkov thinks.
The interpreter Tatyana Cheltsova, his brother Nikolai and son Yevgenii had also been detained, but had been released. They had all experienced moments of horror in the interrogations. Miss Cheltsova had been threatened with years of imprisonment:
- We’ll tell your parents that you disappeared during the searches, and you’ll be in prison for just as long as I say. This is Segeza and not St Petersburg, and no lawyers are summoned to interrogations here! No one is familiar with the laws here!
The reunion was joyful. The participants recall that evening as one of the best of their lives. They were so relieved to see everyone alive and had a lot to talk and laugh about.
Styanin and Prytkov had to remain in Segeza, but the others departed to their homes to their responsibilities. Russia was facing a crisis following the collapse of the rouble. The economically chaotic situation preoccupied the media and people.
Prytkov rushed off to protect the plane with Litol oil. When he reached the spot, he noticed that the policemen on guard had made a shelter for a fire out of parts of the plane, and taken a metal rod from the plane to make tea with.
- For goodness’ sake, don’t touch the plane, Prytkov said emphatically. He handed the men a stick that he had sculpted from wood to make tea with in exchange for the Brewster part.
Some time later, the BW-372 was lifted by helicopter and taken to Segeza airfield, where it became a local sight. Russian aviation enthusiasts came from near and far to admire it. The plane was not guarded properly, children climbed on top of it and parts were stolen. The guard was stepped up to some extent after Prytkov had pointed the matter out to the authorities.
(sivut 90-91)
The BW-372 was taken to Moscow on the back of a car as an extra-wide transport. Once it arrived, it was packed for transportation to the United States Navy’s Aviation Museum in Pensacola. Given that the Brewster was a new business idea for Aviazaptsast, they lacked the skill required for handling the plane. Villiard, back in Russia from the United States, and Aviapzaptsast again needed Prytkov and Styanin. Summoned to Moscow, Prytkov detached the rear of the fuselage with his drill. The plane had to be sawn at the wings. To this end, Villiard said that he rang Pensacola and obtained confirmation that that was permissible. In addition, parts of the plane had to be detached to get it to fit into the transportation crate. Prytkov and Styanin treated all the parts of the plane with WD-40 solution.
Ironically, once the dismantling and packing work was finished, the charge brought against the men for encroaching on state property was dropped. Though only after Prytkov in November signed a co-operation agreement dated for July with Aviazaptsast. After Moscow, Prytkov and Styanin were now superfluous to requirements, and Villiard suddenly lost interest in them.
On the train journey from Moscow to St Petersburg, Prytkov reminded Villiard about his own expenses of thousands of dollars and the damaged dinghies, which the divers should be compensated for. Villiard responded by shouting at the men, something which had not happened before.
- By what right is Gary there shouting, when we have done everything we could for him, Mikhail Styanin wondered. For the first time, Prytkov’s trust in Villiard was also beginning to waver.
(sivu 105)
Our entire party packed ourselves into a single hotel room. Kottman tried to ring his lawyer in Nebraska, but his expression grew even more serious when he noticed that the hotel telephone was out of order. Fortunately, I had a mobile phone, the only one of us in the party with one, a massive Motorola bought in the spring sale at Helsinki’s Stockmann store. Kottman was able to use it to reach his lawyer, and he also got in touch with Gary Villiard.
During the call, it emerged that Villiard and Zakarenkov were working hand in glove.
- You can leave Petroskoi safely if you do not submit a bid, Villiard told Kottman over the phone.
This situation aroused in me, a kind school librarian, something that we Finns call sisu, guts.
- Gary, you’ll never get away with this, I concluded, without guessing the kinds of influential patrons he would have, including Gordon England, Secretary of the United States Navy.
(sivu 131)
Something else which Prytkov told me about, after I had promised to keep quiet, was Gary Villiard’s submarine shopping in Russia with his friends. When I saw pictures of Villiard’s friends in the 11th March 1997 edition of Izvestiya, I understood how broad Villiard’s business relations were.
- Yes, Marja, it is through you that I have made the acquaintance of people like this, Prytkov sighed with reference to Villiard and his entourage. We agreed that, from then on, we would help each other sort things out. Nevertheless, Prytkov only plucked up the courage to talk to the authorities and go public years later, when the situation in Russia had settled down in President Vladimir Putin’s era.
Together with Kottman, we had notified representatives of the United States Navy of the treatment we had received in Russia and of Gary Villiard’s role in it. We regarded it as obvious that the Navy would not purchase the plane from the shady men selling it.
(sivut 137-138)
In May 2004, Karl F. Rau, Director of the US Naval Inventory Control Point Operations Department, replied to me on behalf of Gordon England, Secretary of the Navy. He stated that he could not comment to outsiders on aeroplane purchases by the United States Navy and so say anything about the situation with the Brewster-372. “We appreciate your concern and continuing interest in this rare and significant aircraft”, lied Captain Rau in his letter to me dated 18th May 2004.
Perhaps Rau really could not comment on anything to me. Why then did the United States Navy send Gary Villiard the letter that I had received from Russia’s deputy Minister of Property and translated into English? The Navy Inventory Control Point [tai pelkkä Navy yksinkertaisuuden vuoksi] blundered badly when they told me that they had some new information about the Brewster. They faxed me the letter that I received from Russia’s Minister of Property, which I had translated for them myself. I could see from the fax headings that this letter addressed to me had also passed through Villiard’s fax machine.
At the end of May, Kottman announced that the Navy was now finalising its dealings over the plane with Vintage Holdings. Once again, the Navy would not admit to knowing who owned the company. This time, we could not even discover in which country the company was registered.
_________________
Don't touch my junk!!
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