It wasn't the 78-year-old's first time in this legendary aircraft, hero of the Berlin Airlift and depicted in the film A Bridge Too Far.

But six decades had elapsed – and this time, the flight was in relative luxury. For a start, there were doors on the plane.

Stanley, of Sowerby Bridge, was only 18 when the Dakota be-came familiar territory, for this was when he was a young Royal Air Force instrument mechanic, preparing the aircraft for
regular sorties to Berlin where they dropped vital supplies and
aid to combat the harsh consequences of the Soviet land and sea blockades.

And he even took a spin in one when, as a thank-you for all his hard work, he was invited to Germany "to see things at the sharp end".

That trip, in October 1948, was a memorable one, not least because there was a problem with the doors and the pilot's answer was to take them off.

"Flying over the North Sea was a little bit chilly," he recalls.
But the flight Stanley enjoyed just days ago was equally memorable. It was also poignant as he became one of the last passengers to take to the skies in the famous American aeroplane.

"When I heard that the last passenger flights were taking place I was really determined to be on one – and it was pure nostalgia," says Stanley.

He was one of around 30 people on board the Dakota, owned by Air Atlantique of Coventry, which took off from Leeds Bradford airport, flying over West Yorkshire.

"Everyone on board had some special and personal memories of the Dakota, including one chap who had been a navigator in the war and clocked up some 1,100 hours' flying time. As soon as the engines started, the noise and the vibration took us all back in time," he says.
"Suddenly the vibration ceased and we were all airborne, climbing to 2,000 feet," he adds, describing various Yorkshire landmarks coming into view.

"The flight was over all too soon and, for me, it brought back a lot of memories of the time I spent on Dakota maintenance."
Stanley's days as an engineer in 1948 and 1949 were at RAF Oakington, Cambridge.

He admits that although he knew the Dakota inside out he was "not up to speed with politics" so in the beginning he was completely unaware of the importance of his role.

After returning to Oakington after a weekend's leave home to Halifax, he found half the airmen in his billet had gone.

They had been flown out to Germany where minor inspections of the Dakotas could be carried out. But the major servicing had to be done at Oakington to make sure the planes were in tip-top condition for the operation which was to become known as the Berlin Airlift.

Since routes by road and water had been blocked by the Soviet Union, the solution was to fly aid and vital supplies in by air. The airlift started on June 25, 1948 (although smaller drops of supplies had begun earlier.)

It had been decided that Berlin's daily food ration would amount to 1,534 tons, which included flour, wheat, cereal, fat, meat, fish, yeast, cheese and powdered milk.

On top of this were supplies of coal.

"The aircraft had to be ready to go even if it meant working through the night and into each day we which often did. Each job had a time slot and you had to keep to it," he recalls.

"It was hectic and the dust from the flour and coal used to get into the instrument panel so someone came up with the idea of using Plasticine. We used 26lbs of the stuff on each plane to fill in all the cracks."

Stanley's latest flight was a far cry from his earlier one.
"The plane looked just the same but instead of long canvas bench seats down the sides which used to be stowed away to make room for supplies, there were proper seats this time.

"The loops where you clipped your parachutes on were still there though. I was just thrilled to be part of one of the last passenger flights."

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