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View Full Version : Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II


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Blacksheep
25th Nov 2012, 06:06
In the 60s version of Her Majesty's Royal Air Force we were required to keep all vaccinations up to date and stash the certificates with one's passport, ready for instant deployment. If I recall correctly, yellow fever was valid for ten years, smallpox for two and a half and cholera six months. I suppose the victim managed to skip a session while in transit to Bombay and picked up his bug on the train journey.

Danny42C
26th Nov 2012, 20:40
Blacksheep,

IIRC, we had those little Inoculation Books, too. Our chap would certainly have had one (or he would never have got aboard). He'd had his vaccinations all right, but still got smallpox. That was what worried the M.O.s so much.

We didn't have passports - we owned the place then !

Cheers, Danny.

Blacksheep
27th Nov 2012, 12:45
We didn't have passports - we owned the place then ! Reminds me of the chap who was refused a British passport on the grounds that he was born in India of parents who were also born there. Asked if he had ever been abroad before, he said "Yes, I crossed the Channel once- but there were no border controls when I led my men ashore on Sword Beach!" :ok:

Danny42C
27th Nov 2012, 16:50
Looking back on the war years, I've always been struck by the speed with which "wartime" became our normal way of life in Britain; after the first few months we could hardly remember a peacetime existence, and quickly adjusted to the changed circumstances in which we found ourselves. Even all the privations (rationing, the blackout, the shortages, the dried egg and bully beef, the bombing) became just part of the day-to-day existence. I imagine we youngsters probably adapted sooner than the older generations, but many of those also had vivid memories of '14-'18, and had seen it all before. Britain simply "settled down" to the new job. ("Don't you know there's a war on ?" was common parlance).

When I came home, (and thank God for that), my first impressions were strange . Everything seemed to be just as it had been five years before, when I'd gone off to war. It was as if time had stood still, and I had never been away. Now the people might be a bit older, but they were all the same. Liverpool was knocked about a bit more, but it and Southport were just the same. All my old suits (luckily !) fitted me still. My old bike only needed the tyres pumping up. My old job waited for me - I think I actually went back to my old desk and chair. My workmates were the same bunch of WW1 veterans, a bit more grizzled than I remembered them.

But I wasn't the same as I'd been five years earlier:

The problem was that of the "Office Boy Major", which followed both World Wars (and probably all wars). Your gangling office boy goes off to enlist. He comes back six years later, inches taller, heavier, a battle-hardened Major. Kipling's old cavalryman, back from the wide open veldt of the Boer war, put the point well in "Chant Pagan":

"Me that 'ave been what I've been -
Me that 'ave gone where I've gone -
Me that 'ave seen what I've seen -"

Every one of us would have a different story to tell:

"Tell me, my Lord Northumberland,
How went the day with you ?"
"Hither and yon" the Earl replied,
"As ever a fight must go.
For some fought well, and some fought ill,
And some struck never a blow". (Kipling: The English Way)

And some slept beneath their headstones, and some were broken in mind or body or both, and some had been captives, and some had come home laden with honours. With a tiny number of exceptions, all had done the duty to which they were bound by their Commission or Oath of Attestation - that Oath which will for ever set them apart from the civilian. ("Any man", said Dr. Johnson, "thinks more meanly of himself for not having borne arms for his country").

And through all had run a great golden thread of comradeship.

That's enough. back to the story next time,

Danny42C


All present & correct.

Yamagata ken
28th Nov 2012, 13:44
Poetic Danny, thanks very much. Sorry to put you on the spot re: teens. I can remember much of what I was doing, but little of what I thought (apart from a pathological loathing of school and a pleasantly rewarding interest in girls).

Chugalug2
28th Nov 2012, 16:03
Danny, your precise recall of past events obviously extends also to favourite books, be they poetry or novel. The comfort of familiar lines sustained a generation that lost loved ones, comforts, possessions, and even the prospect of their own early and violent demise. God forbid that we should face such privations now, but if so what would comfort us en masse? Morecombe and Wise, Dad's Army, Fools and Horses? Excellent though they might be they do not compare with the strength that comes from an apt and wise quotation that brings everything else into perspective. We are the poorer for it, I fear.

Danny42C
28th Nov 2012, 19:24
Yamagata ken,

I remember that a "Royal Enfield" 250cc four-stroke (£31/17/6) - after a "Pride & Clarke" two-stoke "Red Indian" (at £29/19/6, about the cheapest new bike on the market) was the unattainable object of desire. But as I never saw 31/- in one piece, never mind £31, it had to stay that way.........D.

Chugalug,

Well said ! Kipling (for generations derided by the fashionable as a mere scribbler of jingoist doggerel) rates just below Shakespeare in my book. I always remember the "Times" reference to him on the occasion of King George V's death (Kipling had died a few weeks previously): "The King is dead - and he has sent his trumpeter before him !"

Google: "Kipling___Chant Pagan", read the poem through, and get an idea of what many felt at the war end.....D.

Regards to you both, Danny.

Yamagata ken
28th Nov 2012, 22:00
Motorbikes, ah yes. You'll have to lift your sights a bit from 250cc though. A younger (and slimmer) Ken.

http://img694.imageshack.us/img694/8013/1970mat001strsh.jpg

mikehallam
29th Nov 2012, 10:06
Change of subject continued a little :

1953 at 16, a 1937 Velocette 250cc two-stroke GTP, good for just under 60 mph: by 1959 (& National Service beckoning after 5 years Apprenticeship) the proud owner of a British world beating m/c industry product - a heady Velocette Venom 500.
Supposed to do 102 lying flat on the tank whilst trying to raise an eyeball to squint & see if the magic 'ton' showed on the Smiths chronometric speedo clicking away !

Jump forward 50 years and I'm back on a bike, such glorious freedom & fun & almost as good as flying - better sometimes. A 650 cc now gives an effortless 100 mph just sitting up and almost anywhere - and who built this oiltight reliable electric self starter creation with fantastic brakes ?

That's right it's Japanese - I still feel funny about that aspect after all that time & I was only a kid during the War.

mike hallam

lasernigel
29th Nov 2012, 11:53
My Dad got invalided out in 1946 via Weeton after his Egypt stint from '44. He joined in '41. Caught a severe case of dysentery.
After marriage moved to Southport where I was born.
He had a Velocette KSS, which when I was old enough to cling on to the back of his jacket, used to go to a Temperance place up a street off Lord St, where they sold sasparilla out of a tap.
He was head cocktail barman at the Prince of Wales hotel then the Royal before we got a pub in Wigan.
I was a BSA man and had a '56 DBD34, Grandpa had been a Norton man.

Motorbikes, ah yes. You'll have to lift your sights a bit from 250cc though. A younger (and slimmer) Ken.

On a Velocette without a "fishtail"...sacrilege!:ok:

However sorry to digress from Danny's excellent contribution.

Yamagata ken
29th Nov 2012, 14:30
Do you see what you've done here Danny? Advanced to post-war, and raised motorbikes, that's what! With apologies and hopes to read the post-war career.

@ lasernigel and mikehallam. It's a Venom Clubman, easily capable of the ton (not that I ever did that, against the law you know hahaha). It came with a fairing and the reverse cone megaphone. I ditched the fairing (hence the headlight taped on, awaiting a proper mounting). The mega looked (and sounded) much better than the fishtail, so I kept that.

DBD34=Gold Star. Triumph twins were faster for about 10 minutes, until the pistons melted, and the vibrations caused the headlight to fall off and the footrests to unscrew. The Velo had long legs and could keep up 70-80 all day.

/Diversion over. Danny, please give us more post-war. I have a couple of observations from my late father-out-law (the other side) but I don't want to thread-bomb any further.

cockney steve
29th Nov 2012, 14:50
Ken...Velo Thruxton with a non-standard "mega" (megaphone exhaust in lieu of the standard Velocette "flat" silencer with the huge perforated fishtail )
In front of a rover 3 litre coupe, in front of a Bedford C A Dormobile?

I really must get out more!

Still clearing my late ladyfriend's house, have found a photo album with a couple of snaps which connect to the tiny diary of which i posted some entries.

In due course i hope to be able to post them all.

Yamagata ken
29th Nov 2012, 15:46
There's a back story behind that photo. Coventry was blitzed because it was the centre of the UK's machine tool industry. Whatever was made in the UK was made with Coventry tools. The Rover is part of that story.

Danny42C
29th Nov 2012, 20:35
Yamagata ken, cockney steve, lasernigel, and mikehallam,

What have I unleashed !! Lest I be confused with the oily, leathered brethren, let me set the picture straight:

(a) I never had a motorbike when young (couldn't afford it).

(b) Only rode a m/c once in my life - sometime in RAF, don't remember where. Was a Dispatch Rider's 350 (?) Matchless (?) with gearshift on tank. Didn't fall off.

(c) Had a BSA Winged Wheel (remember them ?) in '56-'59. Did 3,000 miles home-duty on it. Think I got paid 1p/mile, but showed a profit. Plug (car type 14mm) was bigger than pot (25cc). Vne 25 mph on level, against full brake 24mph (inadvertently had to test, story one day).

(d) Hold licence to ride any 2-wheel beast, by reason of test passed '53 on Bond Minicar (non-reversible tricycle in law - for all Law knows, I might not even be able to ride a pushbike).

ken,

Nice bike ! (bloke looks quite good, too).

Will get next Post in ASAP before Moderator loses patience with us, Danny

dogle
29th Nov 2012, 22:54
"What have I unleashed !! "

- only just a whiff of the wonderful cameraderie which exists in your (bulging) 'virtual crewroom'!

(my own two-wheel comments suppressed - with difficulty - lest we drift hugely off-topic; the post-war narrative is most eagerly awaited - please!).

cockney steve
30th Nov 2012, 21:44
Danny, you were a man of taste and discernment with a "Winged Wheel"
The peasantry made do with a Cyclemaster or even the "Powa-Pak"..(remember you could get a very heavy -duty ribbed back tyre that the drive-roller of the latter made short work of! ) then there was the French Berini-a front wheel version of the friction-drive Powa Pak.....there was the Ducati Cucciolo a rare beast! and a whole host of other fringe makes at ~200 mpg I'm surprised there has not been a renaissance in this form of transport,-especially as today's brakes are actually effective.

Keep on with the reminiscences they evoke times long-gone.

Danny42C
1st Dec 2012, 01:34
The end came very swiftly. I could not have got home before 12 June. But although I started my disembarkation leave immediately, I could not exist in a vacuum as far as the RAF was concerned - I must be posted somewhere. The choice fell on Middle Wallop (don't ask me why). So after enjoying my leave in Southport for a fortnight, I went down there until the end of the month, when my demob number came up. During that time I did absolutely nothing.

However, for the moment we are in Southport. Among the many attractions of that fair town is a Lido. It was a bright, breezy day. I decided on a swim. The Lido screening walls sheltered me from the half-gale off the Irish Sea, the sun shone and the water glittered invitingly. I might have noticed that there weren't many in the water. I dived in.

I thought I was dead - the cold hit me like a blow - it was absolutely freezing. I rose from the water like a Polaris missile and got ashore - I don't think I swam, but must have run on top of the water across to the side. There, wrapped in towel, it was about twenty minutes before my teeth stopped chattering. Then, and only then, did I look at the blackboard. It read 55°F or something like it. Bit of a change from my last swim !

I spent quite a bit of time at the Lido, but contented myself with topping-up the tan I'd come home with (and leaving the water alone !) It was during this time that I was surprised to see M. Giroup (oux ?) plying his trade in the old Fox Moth, coming over every four minutes (and earning £2 a time). (Fredjhh and I exchanged reminiscences about this many Posts ago).

I never thought that the "five-bob" flights would do much business after the war, but really the vast majority of people were no more air-minded than they'd been in 1939. It was only the small minority of WW2 aircrew who thought no more of climbing into a cockpit than hopping on a bike. The era of mass air transportation was many years in the future.

The two weeks were up, I went down to Middle Wallop. There must have been some paperwork involved, and after a week or two I went from there to the Demob Centre about 1st July. And where was that ? I can offer Wilmslow, Padgate, Warton - but all are guesses. But wherever it was, they must have taken in my 1250: there were no ranks any more now. IIRC, I got a pork-pie hat, a raincoat, brogues (?), sports jacket and flannels, a white shirt (and tie ?) and a cardboard suitcase to put it in. Goodbye and Good Luck !

Of course I was still on strength; they paid me up until 31st August (Demobilisation Leave). They gave me a gratuity (about £150, I think). With this, added to the £500 Banker's Draft I'd brought home, I opened my first Bank Account. This was a very useful buffer, for my income position was not so rosy.

The Government of India had been paying me the rupee equivalent of about £60 p.m., but of course that ceased the moment the ship cast off in Bombay. The RAF took over at the rate of 24/- a day (for a Flt.Lt.), which in my arithmetic is about £36 p.m. Scarcely had I adjusted to this change in my fortunes when they got rid of me and I had to earn my keep in the Civil Service on a princely £25 p.m. (it is hard to get an accurate comparison with the present, but a ratio of 38:1 is not far out).

And at that I was luckier than many. In the course of my efforts in the Resettlement Advice Office (a Physician who could not Heal Himself), I heard heart-rending tales of many who were really on the breadline after demob, and I did what I could to shoe-horn them into the TMC III (Temporary Male Clerk) vacancies which were cropping up in the wartime evacuated Govt. Departments which still filled most of the big hotels. These posts were not overpaid, as you can well imagine, but the poor devils were pathetically grateful for my efforts, and I made many friends in that way.

Passports started to be issued again; the Ministry of Labour and National Service got in on the act, but only to the extent that we took applications in for a quick check before passing them on to the Liverpool Passport Office, who were snowed under. As my Resettlement Advice Office (a rather dignified double-fronted former shop in Lord Street) was rather less squalid than the Labour Exchange, I collected the job, which really boiled down to helping the functionally illiterate (very few in those times) and looking out for photos endorsed by "Michael Mouse, Esq." and the like. The days passed pleasantly enough.

For my leisure hours, I'd joined the Territorial Association Rifle Club. At weekends we went out to the nearby Altcar ranges. I was no William Tell, but once managed to win a "Spoon Shoot" (I must have been very lightly handicapped !) The little silver coffee spoon has stayed with me for years.
Gun control hardly seemed to exist at all. I don't think I even had to have a gun licence for the P.2 (?) Canadian long-barrel, five-round-magazine .303 I had. It was kept in the umbrella stand in the hall (minus bolt, of course). Nobody turned a hair.

They had a 25-yard miniature indoor range at the Drill Hall with Webley and Parker-Hale "Match rifles". The tiny "long-rifle" rimfire .22 cartridges were fed into their old pattern Martini-Henry single-shot actions. This mechanism dated back to the nineteenth century; it was used in the British Army before the introduction of the Lee-Metfords and Lee-Enfields which were the weapons in issue for both World Wars. The indoor range was open most weeknights in the winter. Your only expense was the ammo.

G'night, all,

Danny42C.


POSTSCRIPTS

lasernigel,
The "Prince of Wales" - the Savoy of Southport ! My Resettlement Office (ex-shop) was on the same side of Lord St, and just the other side of Portland (?) St. The "Royal" was the Ministry of Something or Other. Their canteen did a good lunch. Digress away to your heart's content !.........D.

Yamagata ken, Divert away likewise !.........D.

dogle, Drift ditto !......D.

cockney steve,
My W/Wheel was half-price (£12.10) ex "Exchange & Mart". For that only got the Wheel, had to add old bike (15/-), front wheel (£1 or so) and moped saddle (£ ?) for comfort. SATCO had Cyclemaster, licked him hollow on race round taxiway........D.

All's grist that comes to the mill ! (or my Virtual Clubroom)......D.

Danny42C
3rd Dec 2012, 22:28
Long ago I've related how I came in possession of my first set of ice skates, and now I made full use of them, going down to the Sheil Road rink in Liverpool two or three times a week. I kept this up for the three winter seasons ('46 to '48) that I stayed at home, only packing up when the warmer spring weather overpowered the refrigeration plant and the ice started to melt on top. This makes it beautiful to skate on, but rather embarrassing if you go down in it.

I have always been puzzled at the low "take-up" of this excellent winter pastime. You're out of the cold and rain, it's as good for keeping you fit as today's soulless treadmills ("gyms") and much less sweaty, there's the social side to it, and you soon get over the bruises once you learn to go down gracefully when you've passed the point of no return, and not rigidly like a railway signal. And it's not too expensive.

In the early half of the last century I believe it was very popular indeed in Britain, but nowadays there are just flurries of interest when the nation suddenly realises, in the Winter Olympics, that it's got a dark horse prospect for Gold coming up on the rails. The Sheil Road rink closed in 1986 (Wiki). I did a bit more on the ice at Billingham with my wife and daughter in my fifties.

There was no hope after the war for a single-engined pilot in civil aviation - there was no point in even trying. But an advertisement in "Flight" caught my eye one day. Shannon Airport had vacancies for Air Traffic Controllers: they would consider applications from Pilots and Navigators without ATC experience. I'm not sure, but it may have been at the start of the time when the North Atlantic route was flown Heathrow-Shannon-Gander-New York as the aircraft didn't have the fuel for one hop. They specified "one foreign European language". Well, I'd a Higher in French, didn't I ? Have a go ! Interviews in Dublin. Well, that's handy enough from L'pool.

They put a French speaker on , and that was the end of me. As in all British schools then, they'd turned out (after seven years hard work) someone who could discourse learnedly of Corneille, Racine and Molière but couldn't ask the way to the station ("C'ést magnifique, mais ce n'ést pas la gare") - sorry, couldn't resist it ! They were very decent about it, paid my ferry fare and put me up for the night in quite a decent hotel.

Sipping a quiet coffee in the lounge after dinner, I couldn't help hearing the chat at the next table. The speaker was telling of some chap who had just signed whatever was the Irish version of the Pledge. "And not only did he not touch the stuff himself", said he, but now in tones of deepest horror: "but he even tried to put other people off it !". A murmer of shocked disbelief ran round.

Haunted by the fate of many ex-servicemen after WW1, the Resettlement Act compelled employers, where possible, to reinstate their workers after military service. This had to be done, even if it meant the dismissal of temporary staff who had filled the breach for years. As an employer, the Government had to give a good example in the Civil Service. Indeed when I left for the RAF, I was "consoled" by my workmates (all ex-soldiers from '14-'18): "Never mind, lad, your job'll be here for you when you get back".

Tactfully, "if" wasn't mentioned. Just as well, Ken Scott, the only other young man in the office, had volunteered for aircrew just before me. He did quite well for himself as a Nav, reaching Squadron Leader before his luck ran out. I came back, and the job was there.

More later. Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


Return please.....Where to ?.....Back here, of course !

Maugster
3rd Dec 2012, 23:49
While based at RAF Mountbatten in the late 70's I was fortunate to skipper ' Sperling ' on several occasions . Does anyone know what happened to 'Sperling ' after the closure of Mountbatten ?

Chugalug2
5th Dec 2012, 09:13
Danny, what an utter contrast to your life in India. There you were a Commanding Officer. There you were a military pilot. Now you are demobbed and earning less than half of what you were paid in India. Yet you say that you were better off than most, and being employed no doubt you were. These were hard bleak years. Rationing was if anything more severe than in wartime. Any consumer goods produced, especially cars, were aimed at export and hence earning us the all important US dollars needed to pay off our wartime debts. So what is your response? Logical and purposeful as ever. Get a better job. Try for ATC but get rebuffed by the bizarre need for spoken French (I seem to remember that you could learn any living language at school then, as long as it was French. Reading and writing it was important, speaking it was not; the oral test at O level I took concentrated as ever on directions to stations (or perhaps as you hint, to wars). What a pity that ICAO was yet to be invented with the insistance that English would be the Lingua Franca, no doubt despite outraged protests by Versailles.
You'll be back again no doubt and in the meantime make the most of things, in particular via the local ice rink. You wonder why they are no longer part of our scene. I do too, but no doubt our aversion to anything that causes you to trip or stumble and encourages you to phone an 0800 number if you do might have something to do with it. Much better it seems to watch from our sofas others doing it, together with other vicarious pleasures. Unintended consequences? No worries, the Pizza man is here.

Maugster, welcome to the thread and with an appropriate WWII era query at that. I'm afraid I don't know Sperling's fate but I suspect that she is now in the great boatyard in the sky. I certainly remember being part of her crew as a Flt Cdt in the early 60s, beating across the channel at night, with half of us on deck and the other half below pumping out the water that her leaking seams allowed in. She was an old lady then, dating from the 30s. For those who don't know, she was post war booty seized by the RAF from the Luftwaffe and continued her life providing aircrew R&R, albeit now for the enemy.

Union Jack
5th Dec 2012, 09:38
Does anyone know what happened to 'Sperling ' after the closure of Mountbatten? - Maugster

For those who don't know, she was post war booty seized by the RAF from the Luftwaffe and continued her life providing aircrew R&R, albeit now for the enemy - Chugalug

For the true story you can read all about the "Windfalls" here:

Home (http://www.windfallyachts.com/)

Continuing the Military Aircrew theme, I seem to recall that the author, Mick Cudmore, was an air engineering specialist, qualified as a maintenance test pilot.

Jack

Danny42C
5th Dec 2012, 20:01
Chugalug,

The trouble was, we young men were never going to come back the same as when we went away. But exactly that is what post-war Britain expected. As Cincinnatus returned to the plough, so it was assumed that the "citizen army" would gratefully peel off its uniform (after WW1 often cut up to make "hooky mats"), and pick up where it left off. Picking up might not be all that easy to do.

Pumping-out a foundering vessel in mid-Channel at night seems an odd form of "R&R", but then it takes all sorts !..........D.

Maugster,

Welcome aboard ! You did right to choose this Thead, for this is where the Oldest Inhabitants have in their keeping the Wisdom of the Ages. Please don't let this be the last time we hear from you - all have something to put in the pot !..............D.

Cheers, to you both (and to Union Jack), Danny.

Danny42C
5th Dec 2012, 20:52
We had spread our wings, now was the time to get back in the cage. I stayed with the Ministry of Labour till June '48, then transferred on promotion to the newly formed Ministry of National Insurance and found myself running a Pensions section. I would be with them for only nine months, but in that time happened on my patch the only thing which is now worth putting on paper, for it was a bizarre story.

A worker at a market garden died of Weil's disease. This is an infection transmitted by rats, and it was admitted that there were rats on the employer's premises. But this chap had a garden of his own, and there were rats there too. The question arose: whose rat was to blame ?

You might think this an academic distinction. Not to the grieving widow, it wasn't ! If his own rat were the culprit, she'd get only the standard State widow's pension. But if it could be pinned on the firm's rat, it would be an Industrial Injuries pension, and that was a good deal more generous. The Civil Service loves a conundrum like this.

Short of putting the rat on the witness stand, we had to decide on the balance of probabilities. I opted for the firm's rat. My superior overruled me. The widow appealed (at my instigation) * to Tribunal - and won ! Amazingly, the Department wanted to take it further (I suppose they were afraid of A Dangerous Precedent Being Established), and it looked as if it might finish in the House of Lords. * (rather naughty of me, but there you go).

Eventually, however, the file (which now probably needed a wheelbarrow to carry it round Whitehall) landed on the desk of a mandarin with common sense (there are one or two still). He put a stop to the nonsense; our widow got her Industrial Injuries pension.

All this dragged on for months. Originally, I had suggested that the lesser rate of pension be put in issue immediately, and the arrears paid later if the decision went in the widow's favour. The Civil Service doesn't work that way. Until the case was decided, she got nothing at all and had to fall back on the not-so-tender mercy of the (then) Assistance Board. They were still imbued with the ethos of the old Poor Law, and I don't suppose she got kindly treatment. ("Do you have a piano ?......You do?....... Come back to us when you have no piano !")

The prospect of spending the next thirty-plus years stirring this kind of paperwork round lost whatever charm it might have had for me. Would the RAF have me back ? It was worth a try.

I'd already tried to get a foothold back in the Service. No. 611 (Wesl Lancashire) Auxiliaries had Spitfire XIVs at Woodvale, quite handy for me, but they were up to Establishment - or so their Adjutant said. ("Don't call us, we'll call you !") I had better luck with the RAFVR; they were reconstituted in '47, I think, and I joined them as a Flying Officer (with my old number), at their HQ in Fazackerley (L'pool). But they had no training whatever organised up to the time I left.

Surprisingly, I got a reply from the RAF. And so, on a dark November afternoon I waited with two or three others in a room in the old Adastral House in Holborn. I wasn't too hopeful. The buzz was that they'd already got their quota for the month or whatever, and were just going through the motions. My turn came. I squared my shoulders and went in.

Goodnight, again,

Danny42C.


Nothing venture, nothing gain.

Union Jack
5th Dec 2012, 21:01
Nothing venture, nothing gain.

Danny, you ventured into PPRuNe and we all gained!:ok:

Jack

Danny42C
6th Dec 2012, 18:16
Jack,

Thanks for the kind words - now how about some sea-stories ?

All the best,

Danny.

Jobza Guddun
6th Dec 2012, 19:43
Looked in for the first time in a few days and wasn't disappointed. Thanks Danny! :ok:

Danny42C
7th Dec 2012, 21:49
Three officers in mufti faced me across the table. The President rose to introduce two Squadron Leaders. He did not need to introduce himself. He was my old Wing Commander M....? from Cholaveram, with whom I'd juggled the shaky finances of our Mess three years before . We fell on each other's necks like long-lost brothers in an orgy of reminiscence. The other two hardly got a word in. No undertakings could be given, of course, but I went out into the dark, foggy rush hour with a spring in my step.

The offer came in the following March. Short-service, (8 + 4), as a Flying Officer GD(P). Pay: 19/10 a day (you'd think they'd make it a pound !). Actually, it was a little less than my CS salary (£420 p.a.) At the same time the Ministry of Food offered me another step up in their Head office in Rhyl. But Ration books (rationing was still in force) sounded no more exciting than Pension books. I resigned; they made it clear that I was burning my boats and forfeiting all pension entitlement (with war service included, I'd had ten years as an established Civil Servant). Aged 27, that didn't worry me unduly. I accepted the RAF offer.

I hadn't timed things very well. If I'd had 3½ year's commissioned service, I would have come back as a Flt. Lt. But I was two months short of that (and now would have to pass the Promotion Exam as well). And if I'd been out for 3 years, they'd have given me another full Uniform allowance (£94, say £3,000 now). But I was six months short there, too. With two years out, they paid me only half (less than two years, you got nothing - they reckoned you'd still have most of your kit).

I got out my faithful old tin box and set about filling it. First stop was Gieves in L'pool. Among other things they sold me two Van Heusen RAF shirts for three guineas. I later found that I could have got them from RAF Stores at a third of that price (which I'm sure they well knew). I've never dealt with them since.

Then I learned of the existence of Bedfords of Newark (kindly PPRuNers have recently recalled the name to me). From them I got a quite decent 2/h Greatcoat and a No.1 SD (these would both be wartime pattern, although I believe the SD had changed in '47). This begs the question, did I go to Middle Wallop with just battledress ? There must have been a blanket permission to allow it in the Mess in the evenings there. My old SD cap from Calcutta was a rather fetching greenish blue (from repeated dunkings in 100-octane), and the moth had got in the badge padding, but I got away with it for quite some time.

At the beginning of July I reported to Biggin Hill. This was then just a reception centre for returners, we went through the paperwork and I had all my inoculations brought up to date. They decided to put me into Fighter Command, presumably on the strength of my Spitfire OCU seven years before (and I hadn't touched a Spitfire since). In hindsight I can see that this was a mistake. A F/O aged 27 with little seniority is exactly what a fighter squadron commander doesn't want.

They would have done far better to twin-convert me and put me into Bomber/Transport/Coastal/Commands/even boats). But I was in, that was the main thing.

That's all for tonight,

Danny42C.


So far, so good.

Danny42C
8th Dec 2012, 15:26
The die was cast. I went straight up to Finningley for a refresher Course. My instructor was a P2 Lamont (= F/Sgt - the short-lived "four-star-brandy" rank system had come into effect for aircrew SNCOs). A few hours on a Harvard and it was if I'd never been away. (It's true, it's like riding a bike, you don't forget). One day I went up for half-an-hour's solo aerobatics. Rusty after three years out of the cockpit and grossly overconfident, I tried an upward roll. I ended up stuck vertically with zero on the ASI (the only time I've ever seen that in the air !), the engine stalled and the prop stopped. I was too slow even to stall-turn out.

I closed the throttle, turned the stick loose and left the aircraft to look after itself. This it did, tail-sliding for a moment and then tumbling out untidily into a dive. Speed came back, prop windmilled, engine restarted and normal service was resumed. When I got down, it struck me how closely my predicament had resembled the hoary old "Line to End All Lines". (From memory, it went: "There a' was, upside down, hangin' in me straps, fcuk-all on the clock but the maker's name, stick hard over, spinnin' like hell - and still climbin' " - but there are other versions).

Then back onto the Spitfire again. These were Mk. XVIs, which as everybody knows are Mk. IXs (the best of all the Merlin Spits) but fitted with the General Motors licence-built Merlin 266s (the "Packard Merlins"). These engines were every bit as good as the original. The Spits were just as nice as I remembered, more powerful, heavier and less "floaty", but still quite as delightful to fly. I had about 15 hours on them at Finningley, and 10 on the Harvard.

The next step would be to convert me onto these new-fangled jet things. But there was only one conversion school (Driffield) and quite a backlog for it. My pencilled-in date was February 1950: it was now mid-August 1949. And now they hadn't got the wartime gaggle of Transit Camps any more. They reached a solution agreeable to all parties: "Go home on indefinite leave on full pay plus ration allowance. We'll call you when we're ready."

This is a "bit of all right", I thought. We were living in Heswall (Wirral) now. Hoylake was just up the road, they had a lake and a sailing club with "Fireflies", a small Lido and Hilbre Island to go out to. (RAF West Kirkby, where I'd been incarcerated on arrival at Liverpool, is not far away). On full pay (even if there wasn't much of it) and ration allowance, and no Mess Bills to pay, I could live the life of Reilly.

And there was a girl in Hoylake .......... Paddy, where are you now ?

G'day, mates,

Danny42C.


You can't lose 'em all !

Chugalug2
8th Dec 2012, 20:46
Danny:
But I was in, that was the main thing.
Indeed Danny. You may be facing yet another cut in your pay, you may have worn out kit and little left of your reduced uniform allowance to augment it thanks to Gieves (certain dialect pronunciations of which have the first letter sounding "th" rather than the expected hard "g" or even soft "j"). But, as you say, you are in. No mean feat indeed considering that the overall aim was to run the Services down to peacetime levels. Your old Wg Cdr was in the right place at the right time, wasn't he?
You say that the RAF should have trained you for multi-engine rather than fighter types. Perhaps, but your past descriptions of certain airborne "situations", including this latest Harvard one, seem to me at least to show an interest in exploring boundaries more in keeping and in accordance with their airships view. However, as one who kept strictly to straight and level, and tea on the hour every hour, I may be greatly in error.
The Firefly rings bells, for that was the sailing dinghy supplied in hundreds to the RAF by the Nuffield Trust, and found all over the world in RAF Sailing Clubs at Stations on Islands, Coasts, or by Rivers and Lakes, ie everywhere! When RAF Gan indented for a few more I believe they got a rather peevish response from His Lordship's Trust that they could indeed have them as long as they were collected from Christmas Island, recently closed down completely and where everything other than the personnel and their kit had been left behind.
While we are on things nautical, may I make it quite clear that Sperling never foundered, in my time anyway. On the contrary she went like the proverbial, being the thoroughbred that she was. She may have leaked like a sieve and hence kept her crews occupied in returning the "sea to shining sea", but she could show a clean pair of heels to the younger whipper snappers such as the later "touring" boats like Dambuster. The words bomb scows come to mind again!

Danny42C
9th Dec 2012, 00:24
Chugalug,

Yes, my former Station Commander/PMC really appeared on cue, for you're quite right about the manning position in the RAF. By 1949 they had more or less succeeded in getting rid of all the wartime people they wanted to lose - from memory, I think the number of names in the active pages of the Air Force List had come down from 100,000 to 10,000 or so.

But they weren't as good as tempting in the youngsters for short-service as they had been pre-war (although the competition for prized Cranwell cadetships was as strong as ever); this was the reason that a few "retreads" like me crept in to bulk up the base of the manning pyramid.

Their Airships may have had great things in mind for me, but what I ended up with with was the tamest of the tame, as will soon be revealed - and we'd no one to bring us any tea ! (Call of the Greater ATCO-Bird: "What is the Echo-Tango-Alpha of the Tango-Echo-Alpha ?")

Speaking as a devout landlubber, I certainly don't wish to cast any aspersions on "Sperling" (I've found a photo in Google - she looks magnificent). Nor do I wish to give the impression that I did much actual sailing. From observation, this seemed to me to consist mostly of getting very cold and wet what with all this gybeing and capsizing and things.

The only time I was ever in command of a sailing vessel would be around '34, when the Mooragh Park Lake (Ramsey, I.O.M.) cheerfully let a 12 year old loose (with ten minutes of instruction) alone in this old tub of a dinghy, with just enough sail to keep it moving. ('Elf & Safety, where wert thou ?) Mother (ashore) knitted placidly, knowing I could swim pretty well.

Danny.

Danny42C
10th Dec 2012, 18:15
I'm sure this idyllic state of affairs might have lasted over Christmas but for the Autumn Exercise. The RAF had one every year, to keep Groups and Commands up to speed in running a war. This meant a lot more work for them, and they put in bids for extra people. Botttoms of barrels were scraped and dark corners scoured for the workshy. My name came to light, so after a pleasant couple of months at home, I was sent down to make myself useful at HQ Bomber Command (High Wycombe).

Here I ran into S/Ldr (now) Edmondes, last seen in Cannanore, on the Tech Staff there. He'd been chopped down after the war; nearly all wartime people who managed to stay on dropped at least one rank, counting themselves lucky not to have been kicked out into the cold post-war world outside. S/Ldrs are ten-a-penny in a Command HQ and don't count for much. He could do nothing for me: he was an Armaments Officer and I was attached to the Air Staff.

Naively, I'd brought my helmet and goggles. That was a waste of time. It was clear that they'd nothing for their new boy to do. Put him where he can do no harm. Give him to the Command Air Traffic Control Officer. "There's not much for you here", said the CATCO, "Would you like to have a look at ATC at one of the Groups ?"..... "Why not, Sir ?" ....... "Fine, 1 Group at Bawtry Hall, Off you go !" A game of "Pass the Parcel" had begun.

Bawtry Hall was a noble mansion half way up the old Great North Road, near Doncaster. Its gracious facade fronted the usual gaggle of Laing huts in which we lesser breeds lived and worked. I can't remember doing much there, but I settled down with the GATCO and tried to make myself useful.

Part of the Exercise while I was there was a fascinating experiment. It had long been suspected that many of the wartime bomber losses hitherto ascribed to enemy action might really have been mid-air collisions. Hundreds of bombers were channelled into bomber "streams" to saturate the German defences and so reduce losses. In darkness, cloud, rain and snow, in unlit black painted aircraft, flying on parallel tracks at much the same heights to the same target, usually "weaving" to make life hard for the night fighters, you could see what might happen. A mid-air collision is the worst kind of flying accident, nearly always resulting in the death of all on board both aircraft. There would be no witnesses to tell the tale - just two more "missings" to rub off on a blackboard.

They decided to set up a mock attack on the power stations at Newark. Two or three Lincoln squadrons would be formed into a short stream, bundled together just like their wartime forebears. Without navigation lights on a moonless night, they would fly a 300 mile triangular course, avoiding all brightly lit areas. On the appointed time on the run-in to the target, all navigation lights were to be switched on.

Apparently it was terrifying. Crews which had been flying for two hours in what they thought was isolation (and remember that they knew the purpose of the test and were keeping a good look-out) found one or more others dangerously close. The worst situation was the "piggyback". By great good fortune, there had been no collisions. The experiment was never to be repeated.

On which cheerful note,

Goodnight once more,

Danny42C.


Keep the home fires burning !

ancientaviator62
11th Dec 2012, 08:27
Danny,
we used to do a similar daft thing on big Transport Command exercises. Argosies, Beverleys and Hastings all converging .in a stream, on the same DZ.
The variation in airspeed and the lack of anti coll lights made for a very 'interesting' time.

Fareastdriver
11th Dec 2012, 08:44
Heard a story during a wash up on an exercise in Salisbury Plain that I was on. An Argosy crew, severely worried about the number of aircraft milling around their airspace, decided to hide in the Bath Prohibited Area circling around at 5,000ft with no lights on.
They subsequenty found out the two others crews had done the same thing; also at 5,000ft.

Chugalug2
11th Dec 2012, 17:40
aa62:
Argosies, Beverleys and Hastings
We know a song about that, don't we boys and girls?

FED:
An Argosy crew.... decided to hide in the Bath Prohibited Area circling around at 5,000ft with no lights on.
Um, it were two Hastings at 2500ft circling Bath in opposite directions, unless this very unwise procedure was repeated later. It happened after the formation went IMC immediately after take-off from Colerne and was thus forced to scatter. Fortunately pour moi the Stream Leader radioed us further back the line not to get airborne. The Exercise had been postponed previously due wx and this was its final chance. To help it on its way a Wing Commander from Group did the Met Briefing (the Metman had been thanked for turning up but told he was not needed). Strangely, the forecast he gave was for wx conditions exactly on minima. He lied like a cheap Changi watch!

Danny, the RAF had a love affair with Autumn Exercises. Probably something to do with Grouse or Pheasant shooting, or maybe Stag hunting. Anywayoop it all had to be done late September/ early October IIRC. The great annual bean feast for the Tactical Transporters was Exercise Tense Caper. Never was an Exercise more appropriately named!

Fareastdriver
12th Dec 2012, 08:20
Um, it were two Hastings at 2500ft
It had obviously expanded a bit by the time the story reached me. I suppose the present day equivalent has a squadron of Hercs going one way with a couple of C17s going the other.

Wander00
12th Dec 2012, 08:50
Wasn't that tried with Tonkas and Jaguars..............

Danny42C
12th Dec 2012, 18:52
I must say that I'm amazed these games of Blind Man's Buff seem to have gone on so long after Bomber Command had scared themselves fartless so comprehensively in '49 (but then, we never learn, do we ?)

Chugalug, you may well be right in your supposition that the huntin'- shootin' -fishin' calendar dictated the timing of the RAF's Annual Jamboree, but how does the "Glorious Twelfth" fit in ? Speaking as one who never fired on anything which could not (and did) fire back, is there a stop date to this grouse-shooting lark ?

Might be the next instalment tonight if I bestir myself.

Danny.

Danny42C
12th Dec 2012, 19:52
There was a Parade for some reason; my old Indian SD cap came in for disparaging comment. I had to admit that it had seen better days. I had to buy a new one. I must, unusually, have been flush with cash for I ordered a No.1 SD and a dinner jacket from Monty's in Doncaster while I was about it. I'd picked a bad time to buy a new SD.

The Service Dress jacket pattern had changed from the pre-war style. This was the story as I heard it. Pre-war, there had been a Mess Kit for RAF officers: a very natty short pale blue "Eton" jacket and waistcoat, and a gold stripe down the side of the "trews". The war had put all these into mothballs "for the duration", and in the austere post-war years it had continued to be thought inappropriate (and too expensive) to revive their use. For dinners and functions in Mess, your No. 1 uniform was quite good enough.

But there were mutterings among some older and senior officers (who had kept their Mess kits and were still able to get into them) that this was "letting the side down" and amounted to a lapse in standards. There was a Committee somewhere in Air Ministry which busied itself with these matters. Some bright spark came up with a compromise. Why not have a SD jacket which could double as a Mess kit top ? People now wore battledress all the time on duty: off duty you always wore mufti. The only time your SD came out of the wardrobe was for parades and Mess functions - when you wore it with a white shirt and a black bow.

It seemed that King George VI took a keen interest in these proceedings - after all, he had been an RAF officer as Duke of York in the twenties. He had the last word in any change in the Sealed Pattern of any Service uniform. He approved this idea of a dual-purpose SD jacket. Now to design one to his liking.

I can only report that the Committee and its royal patron took leave of their collective senses. What they came up with was an incredible thing. The back centre seam of the jacket was replaced by a double "syce cut" (like an old policeman's tunic). The lower patch pockets came off. The fourth (bottom) button below the buckle came off, replaced by a small, flat button to go under it. To cap it all, the wings were in gold lace !

This ludicrous garment was promulgated in A.M.O.s. There was no question of its being put out to Service trial first. This was it - like it or lump it. Officers must replace their old jackets with this thing and no other. All the Service tailors had to fall into line, of course. Protest arose on all sides, but the Air Ministry set its face against it like flint. The A.M.O. was re-issued some months later, it was quite emphatic, there was no going back, the new pattern was here to stay.

Trust me ! I was one who fell for it. Monty's duly made me one. And then guess what ? Another A.M.O. - complete volteface ! All change again. To rub salt in the wound, they went right back to the old wartime pattern, but merely to save face kept a single (pointless) trace of their mistake. The three-button front, with a hidden button under the buckle, was retained. As I've mentioned earlier, it was the work of a moment to "convert" your old WW2 jacket into a passable copy of this (new) new one.

I got rid of the dreadful thing I'd bought - can't remember how. I can't recall ever seeing anyone weaing one. But I and others ended well out of pocket, for it did not occur to the Air Ministry to offer any compensation.

I got on quite well with the GATCO. But the Exercise was winding down. "Would you like to have a look at one of our Stations ?"......"Sounds like a good idea".........."How about Binbrook ?".........The parcel was on its way again.

Cheerio, everybody,

Danny42C.


"Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy"

Chugalug2
13th Dec 2012, 20:08
Now that post is a prime example of the USP of this thread, Danny. I vaguely remember your mention of a variation of the old SD jacket by the replacement of the bottom button with a flat one (under the buckle) but had no idea that there was another variation bearing a Royal Seal of Approval. What a wondrous creation it was too, double vented, no lower pockets (where are the sarnies supposed to go then?) and golden wings! Surely it was worth fighting for on that latter basis alone? We of the two winged master race had a unique opportunity to literally blind others with our presence and let it go? Unbelievable! On the whole though it was probably for the best. The No1 SD became interchangeable with the Battle Dress (made out of the same barathea), giving one a spare working uniform if anything untoward happened to either, and the Mess Dress was certainly an improvement on your "Royal" SD, especially the white sharkskin Tropical variant.
I'm sorry that your investment was a "write off". No doubt if you were still in India (or better still the Far East) a local tailor could have done a cut and shut job for you and thus salvaged it. Just as well though that the King didn't add to your woes and have you swap the SD cap for the rather quaint titfer that he wore at his wedding. I see that the RAF bands have finally ditched the Busby now for the SD cap.

kookabat
13th Dec 2012, 20:25
And they called it the (relative) 'safety' of the bomber stream...

Danny42C
14th Dec 2012, 00:07
Chugalug,
I am not surprised that the 1951 New Pattern SD jacket has been forgotten, for it was so eminently forgettable. Those stupid enough to have bought one (like me) dare not wear it and concealed the fact, so as not to become the butts of vulgar jest.

I don't think even the most ingenious dherzi would be able to do much with it (the wings would go back in stock, of course, for had not old Abdul on the next stall once sold such a pair to a gullible Navigator-Sahib long ago, and dined out on the story ever since ?)

I'm not quite sure of the official status of the Barathea Battledress. I (and many others) bought one, for it was immensely smarter (and less scratchy) than the stores-issue blue serge. It must have had some official stamp of approval, or Monty Burton wouldn't have had in the catalogue around ' 53 - '54. As a matter of record, they would do you a barathea battledress then for £12/15, a No.1 SD for £13/15, and a Crombie (yes, really) Greatcoat for £15/15. (the inflation factor was 26 approx). At the time, I'd be getting about £45 a month as a Flt/Lt (including 3/- or 3/6? a day Flying Pay).

I must admit that the old Full Dress headgear was rather a figure of fun, but even so the King did at least get married in the uniform in which he had been proud to serve (as had done his father, his son-in-law and his grandson). It seems a pity that the tradition seems to have been been abandoned......D.

Kookabat,
I've absolutely no experience or specialist knowledge of night bombing in Europe, but I suppose that it was a choice between flying alone (and almost certainly being picked off by a night fighter) or in the "safety" of a crowd. Essentially, it was the wildebeest's solution to the lion problem (but then, do wildebeests collide ?)......D.

Cheers to you both, Danny.

EDIT: If you haven't read it already click on "Flt/Lt. William J. Corbin DFC"
(on Military Aircrew). Marvellous stuff (and the old boys are good value, too).......D.

kookabat
14th Dec 2012, 00:46
And that's my understanding of it as well, Danny. That, and 'keep your eyes peeled, lads'. When I first started thinking about it - the masses of aircraft, in the dark, no lights, no radios, certainly no 'air traffic control' as we now know it - I found myself wondering why there weren't many mid-air collisions. Then I thought about it a bit more and realised that actually there probably were more mid-air collisions, but if there were no survivors from either aircraft concerned how would the authorities know the difference between an aircraft lost to enemy action, versus one lost to what was essentially an accident? With no witnesses, both would simply vanish without a trace.
I suppose though that the chances of colliding with other aircraft were somewhat lessened by everyone flying in (roughly) the same direction and (in theory) at the same speed, despite the 'concentration' of aircraft. In fact I believe the Bomber Command Operational Research scientists looked into this during the war* and decided that, if they diluted the concentration of aircraft in a stream to reduce the collision risks, the risks from what they called 'other factors' - presumably enemy action etc - would increase and the overall loss rate would in fact increase with it. So a heightened collision risk was more than offset by the lessening of other risks afforded by concentrating the bombers in a stream. Maybe it WAS the safety of the stream!

Right. Back to the 1951 New Pattern SD jacket! :p

Adam

*A surprisingly interesting book about this is called "The Science of Bombing", by Randall T. Wakelam.

Geriaviator
14th Dec 2012, 14:51
https://s20.postimg.org/blo10zsj1/berryaubac12sqn.jpg

Hello everyone from a little boy who never grew up, at least as far as aircraft are concerned. I have been working my way through this thread for months, awed by the memories of Cliff and Reg, enjoying Danny's daily postings, and Chugalug memories ring a bell. Please can I make a contribution?

My father served 26 yrs 1936-1962. He trained as a gunner on Harts and went to France with 142 Sqn Battles but did not fly on ops as far as I know, he would never talk about it other than to say it was a massacre. He did say he had been lucky to get out of France and he became an airframe instructor at Halton. In 1944 he was posted to Poona, India, where the next year I met my first aircraft, a Vultee Vengeance. Being lifted into the cockpit was being lifted into Heaven. We moved to Karachi (Tempests) and at partition had my first flight on a Dakota to Bombay for three weeks on the Georgic to home. I was so excited that I was sick most of the night before.

Father was posted to 9 Sqn Binbrook where I soon found a Lancaster used for dinghy drill beside the static water tank. Three houses away was my dad's friend F/Sgt Bob Nash from Vancouver, who could be tormented into taking me to the Lancaster cockpit for Sunday lessons. In 1945, after two tours on Lancasters, a grateful nation had told Flt Lt Nash that he could continue flying if he resigned his commission (and the pension and pay that went with it). Bob said his Lincoln WS-D flew like an overloaded Lancaster but it was better than not flying at all. So when the other kids said their party pieces, I had the Lancaster takeoff checklist off pat, which either got the party going or produced a stunned silence with sympathetic looks for my parents.

In 1951 we were posted to Aden (8 Sqn Brigands), returning by Hastings to Lyneham (12 hours with two night stops) then to Leuchars (Meteors) and father's choice for his last posting, 202 Sqn Met Flight at Aldergrove (Hastings). I was able to fly on 202's last sortie, a four-ship formation escorting the Standard to its new home at Leconfield. My pilot was the legendary Flt Lt Ignatowski, who had stolen a light aircraft to make his escape from Poland and the advancing Germans. I can still see the tailplane of the lead aircraft rising and falling only a few yards in front of the windscreen, Iggy breathing hard at times as he heaved the Hastings into position.

When in France my father took photographs with his (illegal) Brownie camera. I think they are unique in depicting Battle operations in France, and I would really like them in some museum in tribute to the forgotten airmen of Bomber Command, who suffered twice the losses of their fighter comrades during those dark days of 1940.

I'll try to post a couple, the first being 142's Battles dispersed at Berry-au-Bac to the left of the main road between Laon and Reims, airfield a grass area made from fields on the right. Most personnel were under canvas. Snow has been shovelled from the taxiway in the bitterly cold winter of Dec 1940 with temperatures often below -20C. Seems to be sandbag blast wall beside refuelling bowser. Further along the line is empty bomb dolly. Ground crew is running up first aircraft, to right of bowser a crewman with parachute walks towards the machine.
The second pic (below) is one of several showing mainplane change. Note what appears to be 250lb bombs on the bomb dolly in front of crane. There's more if the audience is interested. Many thanks for this wonderful thread, particularly to those who have made their final climb to the stars.

https://s20.postimg.org/47719aru5/18_CRANE4.jpg

Agaricus bisporus
14th Dec 2012, 16:27
At risk of trespassing on these hallowed pages I wonder if I may make a contribution?

I have a lengthy PDF with pics telling the story of a B17 crew which made it's way from the US and details its service based at Gt Ashfield - written by the Navigator, one Joel Punches.

Has it been seen here before?

If there is interest I'll see if its possible to get a PDF from my computer onto here, I've never tried.

I'd hate to see our transatlantic cousins' experience left out!

Danny42C
14th Dec 2012, 16:35
Geriaviator,

Let me be the first to welcome you into our Virtual Crewroom ! (where good fellowship prevails and "never is Heard a discouraging Word" - even if I can't answer for the clouds........

"Please can I make a contribution ?" and "There's more if the audience is interested". Of course you can and of course we are ! Get contributing to your heart's content. Start now ! - and don't go away !

Hail fellow - well met,

Danny.

Danny42C
14th Dec 2012, 18:56
Binbrook was on top of a Lincolnshire Wold, about a dozen miles inland from Grimsby. It was a cold place in winter, and it was November now. The only unit on it was 101 Squadron (Lincolns), commanded by a living legend of Bomber Command, Wing Commander Hamish Mahaddie. He doubled as Wing Commander Flying, greeted me warmly and passed me on to the SATCO. This was my first close brush with the Branch in which I would serve my last seventeen years.

Of course (unqualified) I wasn't allowed anywhere near a microphone, but made myself useful round the Tower, sorting out the RAFACs and TAPs and doing the amendments. I had a good look at the Controller's work, and it looked pretty easy to me. There was no intensity at all here; a Lincoln would take off and you wouldn't see it again for about twelve hours.

At that time Intelligence was very interested in any atomic tests the Russians might be making. 101 flew a Lincoln every few days up to Jan Mayen island (70° N, about 1,000 miles). There air filters were deployed to pick up samples of the radioactive fallout which might have drifted on the winds prevailing at that latitude.

These trips were uneventful as a rule, but on one occasion a wind change, or a dicky compass fooled the navigator. (I'm not sure whether they actually found Jan Mayen (there's not all that much to find), or were up at the right latitude and just put the sniffer pads out anyway). After an hour or so on the way back they were horrified to pick up (on H2S radar) land to the west where no land should be. They were off the sea ice on the East coast of Greenland, hundreds of miles off track.

This was signalled back to Binbrook and caused rather a fluttering in the dovecotes. With the increased distance involved, would they still have sufficient fuel to get back to Scotland ? They could divert to Keflavik and refuel there. But their arrival would not pass unnoticed by Soviet agents, who would guess what they had been doing (they probably knew of the flights anyway, but there is no sense in giving a potential enemy gratuitous information).

Maps, rulers and dividers came out, there was a frantic session of mental arithmetic; the fingers-crossed consensus was that they should make Wick (or at least Sumburgh - would their runway be long enough ?) In the event, they got to Kinloss - panic over. Needless to say, I took no part in the affair, but it was rather pleasant to be at the heart of things while having no responsibility whatever for them.

I only remember odd details of my time in the Tower. A Lincoln with a fearful case of pilot-induced oscillation, doing grands jetés down the runway, leaping gaily from one wheel to another until, mercifully, he packed it in and went around, and we could all breathe again.

And one dark night when the following cross-talk was heard:.......(ATC): "Kingpin 23, clear line up & hold"..... (23): "Can't - Caravan's giving me a steady red"......(Cpl on i/c to Twr.): "No, I'm not, sir !.......(ATC): "He says he's not"......(23): "I tell you, he is".......(Cpl on i/c): "No, I'm NOT"........"He says......".........."I TELL YOU....."....this went on for quite some time before ATC could convince 23 that what he was looking at was the obstruction light on top of the Caravan.

(And this brings to mind an old "Tee Emm" tale of the WW2 chap who found a steady red in blacked-out Britain, thought "Pundit", circled for a while to wait for the ident and then realised that he was flying round his own navigation light).

Christmas approached, and I was gratified to hear from Lloyds that I had gone up to 23/- a day. A fortnight later they told me that they'd made a mistake: it should have been only 21/-. Ah, well.... And I carried on busily swotting for my Promotion Exam "B" in March.

But the rush of wealth to the head set me thinking about a vehicle of my own. RAF stations are always in the back of beyond, and "wheels" of some sort are essential, buses (if any) being of the "once-a-week-on-market-day" kind. I'd been carless since '49, when I'd sold the old wreck of a Standard I'd bought on demob leave. New cars were almost unobtainable (and in any case unaffordable for penniless junior officers).

Leafing through "Autocar" in the Mess one day, I came across a Road Test of the Bond "Minicar". I still remember the conclusion of the Test Report: "This little vehicle is claimed to be able to carry two six-foot men, at up to 40 mph, with weather protection, at up to 100 mpg. The mere fact that we found these claims to be fully justified is worth more than any amount of journalistic lily-painting".

They retailed at £199. I put in an order for one (for delivery in May) from Sharp's Commercials, of Preston. (see Google: Bond Minicar > The Bond Minicar Page > Mk. A for pics. The Bonds lasted well into the '70s). I was to keep it for more than four years, and run up 30,000 miles on it. It was a wonderful little thing. I wish I had it now.

Goodnight again, chaps,

Danny42C.


(Soon be flying again now)

Chugalug2
16th Dec 2012, 12:30
Geriaviator:
There's more if the audience is interested
Well, this audience is, for one. So please let us have more of this tragic and little known part of RAF WWII history. We had a chap in the 30 Sqn Assn who was airman groundcrew on Battles and volunteered as a rear gunner. He still complained bitterly that there were gongs a plenty (and no doubt very well earned) for the pilots and navs but "nothing for us erks that sat at the back". When he complained of his Lewis gun seriously overheating when firing back at attacking 109's, he was told; "Well, don't fire it so much then!". Along with the Blenheims, the Battles paid dearly for not being a match for what they were up against.
Your own childhood recollections are very interesting too, with so many types "under your belt" and yet still in short trousers! The mention of your Polish Hastings pilot is a reminder of how many aircrew from Eastern Europe were then in the RAF. With the very real dangers involved in returning home to suspicious and vindictive Communist regimes, large numbers made the RAF their permanent home instead. Scattered from their wartime national squadrons, they filled slots all over the peacetime RAF. Flt Lt Ignatowski was by no means the only such one on Hastings, and without exception they were all larger than life!

ab, please don't hesitate. Just jump right in. The water's fine, honest!

Danny, I'm a bit confused as to why, having got back into flying in the RAF, you are now busying yourself with the no doubt fascinating business of amending ATC publications. Have I missed something, or is it just another variation of the Service's aversion to idle hands, and the belief that doing something, anything, is better than doing nothing (rather like building boats behind the Squadron HQ)?

Geriaviator
16th Dec 2012, 15:26
https://s20.postimg.org/ts34dchil/Mac_Lean_crash_grave.jpg


Danny and Chugalug, thank you for your warm welcome, I'm honoured to join this august squadron on this fascinating thread. Growing up in the RAF made a vast impression on me, especially this story which involves Binbrook.

Douglas Alfred MacLean of Southampton joined the RAF in 1936 and met my father of Belfast in 1938 when they trained as air gunners with 142 Sqn. Airmen named MacLean were nicknamed Dandy after a character in the Weekly News, just as White became Chalky and Wilson was Tug.

They were posted to 142 Sqn at Andover and went to war in 1939, being stationed at Berry-au-Bac in France, where the RAF suffered appalling casualties. When the surviving squadrons returned to Binbrook my father was posted to Halton but kept in close touch with his friend Dandy, who sent him this picture in April 1941.

On the night of June 18 1941 Dandy was rear gunner on a Wellington returning from operations over Germany when it was twice attacked by a night fighter, and he was fatally wounded. My father found later that his son - that's me - had arrived into this world just about the time Dandy was leaving it, somewhere over the North Sea. His telegram to Dandy was returned by the 142 adjutant.

The damaged Wellington struggled back to Binbrook and Dandy was taken home for burial in grave D485, Eastleigh Cemetery, Southampton.

My father would seldom speak of his wartime experiences but encouraged me to remember that Dandy was only one of the 55,573 airmen of Bomber Command who gave their all so that their children could have better lives. He always said that their bravery never received the recognition it deserved.

I have been lucky to have flown in Hastings and wartime Dakota, and to have taxied in a Lincoln, yet one thing has been forgotten: the incredible NOISE. The pilots in the old movies chat nonchalantly away, they hold the mike six inches in front of their face, but my memory is of the tremendous roar and vibration from four big pistons. Without intercom the only way to communicate is to lift the earpiece and shout into the ear, or write a note.

Six hours in the Hastings from Aden to (I think) El Adem had us exhausted, yet young men faced even longer sorties night after night, never mind the perils. I was reminded of this watching the BBMF Lancaster running up, tail turret shaking from side to side, empennage vibrating enough to pop the rivets.

Our generation does not know how lucky we are. Maybe Danny can be coaxed to post again?

Danny42C
16th Dec 2012, 17:59
Chugalug,

Never fear ! I shall raise my eyes (but not much else) to the heavens in the next Post. As it seems that the RAF at this point had set up only one Jet Conversion School for its entire pilot strength, there was this enormous queue for places. I had six months in the doldrums, two spent on indefinite leave and the rest as an itinerant dogsbody, and by pure chance had stumbled into the ATC empire. It could have been worse. I might have been Officer i/c Pig Farm somewhere.

I heartily second everything you say to ab and Geriaviator (I wonder if he has come across my telling * of the Vultee Vengeance saga - the type to which he was introduced at such an early age !

* Starts Post #2250, p. 113 (IIRC). And Ga: See Chugalug's #2549 p. 128.

Danny.

Danny42C
16th Dec 2012, 18:21
My Jet Conversion Course came up at the end of January (24th). W/Cdr Mahaddie was kind enough to write that they had been impressed with me in ATC and would be happy to have me in the Branch. I would have had a long and awkward train journey ahead of me to get back round the Humber into East Yorkshire, but he saved me that, too.

A Lincoln was laid on, Master Pilot Kalinowski flew me and all my kit over the river to arrive in some style in Driffield. Now I would start flying again in real earnest. (This was typical of Hamish Mahaddie - a real gentleman - to do (unasked), this act of kindness to a complete nonentity. His crews thought the world of him. He died about 15 years ago, I believe - RIP).

The RAF had set up a single jet conversion school (203 AFS) at Driffield in East Yorkshire. It was a few miles west of Driffield town, about ten miles north of Beverley. IIRC they ran two Courses there: a (very!) "short" Course for regulars and returners like me, who had previous experience of fighter aircraft in WW2 - ( I was on No.1 Short Course) and a longer Course (3-4 months) which was in effect an OTU for new entrants, among whom might have been appearing the first National Service newly commissioned pilots. (National Service had been re-introduced on 1st Jan '49, so it was just possible).

On arrival, I bedded down in a room in a typical Laing hut, and still remember the nasty little square coke stove I had. This put out more fumes than heat, it was a wonder I survived. I'd to settle down to some serious reading now, for I was going to take my Promotion Examination there at the end of February. The RAF was quite keen on promotion exams then. You had to take Exam "B" to get to Flt. Lt. (this was still in effect in the late '50s), and "C" for S/Ldr (this was a requirement for selection for Staff College). (And I believe that formerly there had been an Exam "A" between P/O and F/O). The RAF argued, quite reasonably, that an officer who couldn't pass his promotion exams must be either stupid or lazy, and in either case should clearly not be promoted.

Kerosene was the only jet fuel in those days; the whole place stank of it, and the good folk of Driffield had to put up with it, the prevailing wind being in their direction. The ground crews wore heavy green rubberised "kerosene suits" for protection. All day long the welkin rang with the banshee howling of the "Goblin" engines in the Vampires - you could see how they got the name.

All full-Course students had to do the first half of their Course on the dual Meteor T7s (the dual Vampire did not appear until much later). They were then allocated to the Meteor and Vampire training Squadrons as required. I have no idea how the selection was made. We "short-Course" people just flew the Meteors; we thought ourselves a cut above the drivers of the "kiddie-cars", as we scornfully dubbed the Vampire. (Anyone who knows the RAF will have no difficulty in guessing which type I was posted on to when I Ieft !).

There were two kinds of students, experienced WW2 pilots who'd managed to stay (or wangle their way back) in the RAF, and the new intake. We old-timers had at least handled what passed for fast machinery in our day, but the newcomers had flown only Chipmunks and Oxfords (which were reckoned slow in 1939). They were in for big surprises. To begin with, they were confronted with "Black Mac" - W/Cdr McDonald, the CFI, feared by every Bloggs throughout the RAF as a ferocious disciplinarian who struck terror into the hearts of all his students. Then they met the Meteor.

Having come from the Oxford, which I suppose did most of its flying around 130 knots, they found the Meteor a bit of a handful (to say the least). Why that thing, and not the Harvard which would have been much better for them, I cannot imagine. It is not speed alone which was the killer, rather that things happen far quicker than the mental processes can keep pace. Perhaps the logic was: the Meteor is a twin; they must learn to fly twins; any twin will do; we have a lot of these in stock.

This was sound enough reasoning, except that the Meteor was just as good on one as on two (except when you came to land on one, when it was a real pig). Indeed, it was acceptable practice to shut down one engine to stretch the range. But it meant that our young aviators had to make the jump from a prop-driven air taxi of the thirties to the first-line fighter of the RAF twenty years later. A comparison today would be from a Tucano straight into a Tornado (or Typhoon !) It was a tall order, and more than some of them could manage. Carnage was the result.

Cheers,

Danny42C.


You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs.

Fareastdriver
16th Dec 2012, 19:34
You had to take Exam "B" to get to Flt. Lt. (this was still in effect in the late '50s),

That arrangement kept going until the late sixties. There was then an almighty wail from officer's messes around the World as professional Flying Officers were forced to put Flt Lt's braid on; and were then liable for Station Duty Officer and lots of other onerous secondary duties.

ancientaviator62
17th Dec 2012, 08:10
Geriaviator,
yes the Hastings being made (mostly) of old Halifax parts was a noisy beast. But so was its successor the Lockheed Hercules, especially 'down the back'. The ALMs became expert in lip reading and sign language. I understand the the 'new' version the C130J is even noisier !

Chugalug2
17th Dec 2012, 09:47
Danny:I might have been Officer i/c Pig Farm somewhere
I think that Mr Barraclough beat you to it!
I believe that formerly there had been an Exam "A" between P/O and F/O
I suppose there must have been. Funny thing but I'd never considered that. All that I remember of the B Exam was trying to understand the tortuous organisation of the Army. Regiments, Brigades, Companies, Battalions, Divisions, even Armies; the whole melange defeated all logic. Mercifully the exam I took didn't inquire too deeply and thus the second stripe and attendant pay hike duly materialised.

Geriaviator: Our generation does not know how lucky we are.
Indeed, and that is why the posts of Danny and his cohorts are so important. As I am prone to say ad nauseam, it is the brief BTW, the quick throw away line, that so clearly demonstrates the yawning gulf that exists between life now and life then. There is nothing to be envied about facing violent death, of losing loved ones in the same way, of constant privation and suffering, and yet we do envy them. Why? Because what that generation achieved meant that ours grew up in freedom and with hope for the future. That is an enviable epitaph for any generation and the least that ours can do is simply to acknowledge that.

aw ditor
17th Dec 2012, 09:49
The C' Exam.' was for Flt Lt to Sqn Ldr and the dreaded Q' Exam. was for the Staff College.

Geriaviator
17th Dec 2012, 10:43
Thanks to Chug, AA and Danny, please keep them coming. Soon after posting about the incredible noise endured by Bomber and Coastal Command crews, I came across this:


Flying DH Mosquito KA114. - YouTube (http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=rGfQQWOsoB8&vq=large)


We really have to hand it to the Kiwis for their determination and engineering skills, I've never seen anything like this. Just make sure the neighbours are out, turn up the volume, enjoy all the way to the snap, crackle and pop of a Merlin being throttled back ... and then ask yourself would you have liked eight hours of it, night after night.

Danny42C
17th Dec 2012, 22:51
Fareastdriver ,

They weren't all "professional" Flying Officers, Fed. I had a good friend at Strubby, ex-Wop/Ag, who simply could not get through the exam "B". He'd tried for years without success, when he was finally "deemed" to have passed, his first act was to instruct his wife to go out and buy some steak, in place of the egg-and-chips on which the family had for so long had to subsist !......D.

aw ditor ,

Touché ! Of course, you're right (as I was never to raise my sights so high, I'd quite forgotten the "Q")........D.


Chugalug,

Many a true word spoken in jest ! On Stations which had Pig Farms, there was a sort of unwritten convention that the SATCO got that subsidiary job.

As one of the last representatives of that generation on which so much praise is now being heaped, I must repeat a point which I have several times made in my Posts. There was nothing special about us; we just happened to be on watch when all the Nazi (and Japanese) horrors were let loose; it was up to us to do something about it.

Human progress in every generation consists of twenty steps forward and nineteen back. It was simply our good fortune to be able to put that horror down at the crossroads with a stake through its heart. That was our twentieth step. We can die content......D.

Thank you all for your interest and contributions to our Virtual Crewroom. It is what keeps this best of Threads alive.

Danny.

DFCP
18th Dec 2012, 01:20
Danny 42C---I think in the past you remarked that unless you had a PC you could not get to S/Ldr.
If this was the case what would be the point in a F/Lt taking the B exam.?
Also what was the subject matter covered by these exams?

Geriaviator
18th Dec 2012, 09:52
https://s20.postimg.org/v4ktf9hj1/1_Bicester.jpg

Commanding officer Wing Cdr Falconer with aircrew of 142 Sqn, pictured at Bicester a few days before the squadron left for Berry-au-Bac, France on September 2, 1939. Most would not survive a year.
Back row, from left: Curtiss, Bury, Hworel, Howard, Abrahams, Lang, Baker, Heslop, Agar, Churchill, English, Stokes, Jenkins, Raper, Durham, Brown, Morgan, Little.
Front row: Ferguson, Arthur, Chalmers, Farrell, Flt Lt Wight, Sqn Ldr Hobbs, Wg Cdr Falconer, Flt Lt Rogers, Hewson, Gosman, Taylor, Franklyn, Ennis.
BELOW: Formation of 142 Sqn Battles, one of a series taken for the 1938 Christmas card.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Xmasformation_zpsce543c97.jpg

More pictures from Berry-au-Bac on the way, if you would like to see them.

Danny, thank you for your Vengeance reference, I read it from start to finish. Your recall is incredible, and your story is spellbinding!

Fareastdriver
18th Dec 2012, 13:24
who simply could not get through the exam "B".

Danny; I think you have misunderstood me. In my time there were a brood of Flying Officers who had no interest in becoming Flt Lts. Thia was because they were quite happy strapping on an aeroplane a couple of times a day and propping up the bar in the evening. Flight Lieutenants could get lumbered with all sorts of extra duties which would interfere with their idyllic life. As most of them were on a 5/8/12 commission flying hours were more important than money.

Automatic promotion to Flt Lt wrecked that arrangement.

Danny42C
18th Dec 2012, 18:50
DFCP,

Slight misunderstanding here. I came back in as a Flying Officer, and was still in that noble rank until I could pass my "B". What were the subjects studied ? God knows !

There would be no sense in promoting a short-service officer to S/Ldr. What use would he be to the RAF in the few years he had left of his active SSC ?....D.


Fareastdriver,

No, all I meant was, that besides the chaps you mentioned who for quite understandable reasons preferred to remain F/Os (but who would have breezed the exam had they sat it), there were others who devoutly wanted to get the second stripe, but just weren't the studious kind. My friend was one such. Automatic promotion answered their prayers. Hope that clears it up...D.

(Do you remember the character in Doctor in the House (was it "Benskin" ?) on whom an incautious aunt had settled an allowance of £1,000 p.a. so long as he remained a medical student. He became a professional exam-failurerer !) EDIT: (until his fiancée made him buckle down and qualify !)

Geriaviator,

Thanks for the kind words. You must see Chugalug's marvellous find (I gave the Post number). That is, I think, the only bit of video of flying Vultee Vengeances in existence. Keep on Posting !.......D.

Regards to you all,

Danny.

Danny42C
18th Dec 2012, 20:17
The accident rate rose alarmingly, to the point when public opinion became aroused. It is one thing to lose your young men in war, but seeing them killed wholesale in flying accidents in peace is quite another. The RAF had to start giving some thought to Flight Safety, a concept which hitherto had been regarded as an oxymoron. Flying was dangerous, people got killed doing it, "as any fule kno" (pace Adrian Mole).

It was bad enough in my day, and got worse. I have just read some figures for Meteor accidents in the early '50s - (total 890, with 434 pilots and 10 navs killed, they must have been on the NF11s). Apparently that was the worst post-war period. But as late as '53, 608 Sqn got a National Service P/O who had been trained on Oxfords at Dalcross, so it was still going on then.

Driffield used nearby Carnaby as its RLG. Carnaby was one of a small number of special "emergency" airfields which had been built during the war to provide for bombers returning with severe damage to aircraft or crew. IIRC, the runway was 9,000 ft long and 300 ft wide (double the width and a half as long again as the usual RAF runway in those days) in order to give a shot-up aircraft a better chance of a safe landing.

But there was no permanent staff there now, of course; housing was scarce everywhere; a large colony of squatters had appropriated most of the vacant RAF accommodation. The RAF tolerated this; water, power (metered, of course) and sewage services were kept on. But we did think it a bit rich when we started getting complaints from the squatters about aircraft noise !

John Henderson, ex-war pilot (he who had inveigled the Air House into buying enough spares to keep Ansons flying for all time), who had often crossed my path when later in ATC (I think we were together at Linton) and in retirement was for some time SATCO at Teeside airport, tells a good story:

It was the end of the day, Carnaby was pestering Driffield for permission to close. But Driffield still had one solo stude up at height; both places had to stay open till he got down. The line was still open between the two Controllers when in the background came the mounting scream of an aircraft coming down very fast, followed by a dull "crump". "That's it", said Driffield, "you can pack up now !"

My first ride in the Meteor was a revelation. This was simply a different order of aviation from anything my previous experience had prepared me for. For the first time I could see where I was going on the ground - this was luxury indeed. Up to now, taxying had been a matter of peeking around a big nose, like an engine driver in his cab, getting mouthfuls of hot, acrid exhaust fumes, and having to zig-zag to make sure the way ahead was clear. Now it was like driving a car. The soft u/c suspension rode the concrete joints in the taxyway like a Rolls-Royce. There was no vibration and the engine noise was smooth and muted. It was like a magically driven glider. This was the way to go flying !

Engine handling (after you'd got the fire going, the trickiest part of the job with the early jet engines) was simplicity itself - just a throttle (all right, "thrust lever"), open or shut. (The old piston engines had four knobs each to juggle with, which adds up a bit if you have four of them - or so the old four-in-hand drivers tell me).

One thing about it I heartily disliked. The Mk. 7 canopy did not open fore-and-aft, but was hinged on the side and swung over you with a clang of deathly finality to lock into position (the Me 109 was the same). And it wasn't a perspex bubble, but a sort of greenhouse with small panels in a metal frame.

It induced a strong feeling of claustrophobia (in me, anyway), although you could jettison it (with a big black/yellow "T"-handle in the cockpit) if you had to. I would have much preferred a single all-in-one plastic canopy like the ones in the Mks. 4 and 8 fighter versions. And these allowed the fighter cockpits to be pressurised (which we were not). This also allowed the fitting of ejection seats in these Marks; I suppose a seat could smash through a plastic bubble if the jettison failed, but our metal cage was of sterner stuff - it would shred us to ribbons on the way out.

(Enough for the time being; we get airborne next time).

Goodnight, chaps,

Danny42C.


Nearly there now.

Molemot
19th Dec 2012, 12:43
"As any fule kno"....not Adrian, but the infamous Nigel Molesworth of St. Custards!!

Danny42C
19th Dec 2012, 13:07
Molemot,

Threeché ! I hang my head in shame (but thanks, anyway !)

Danny.

Chugalug2
19th Dec 2012, 19:53
Sorry to steal your thunder, Geriaviator, but I just had to post the photo that you linked to. How sad that so many seen below were to die so soon afterwards, and how fitting that RAF Bicester is the proposed site of a planned Bomber Command Heritage Centre to honour their memory.

Commanding officer Wing Cdr Falconer with aircrew of 142 Sqn, pictured at Bicester a few days before the squadron left for Berry-au-Bac, France on September 2, 1939. Most would not survive a year.
Back row, from left: Curtiss, Bury, Hworel, Howard, Abrahams, Lang, Baker, Heslop, Agar, Churchill, English, Stokes, Jenkins, Raper, Durham, Brown, Morgan, Little.
Front row: Ferguson, Arthur, Chalmers, Farrell, Flt Lt Wight, Sqn Ldr Hobbs, Wg Cdr Falconer, Flt Lt Rogers, Hewson, Gosman, Taylor, Franklyn, Ennis.


[/quote]http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Bicester1939_zps8c352b0b.jpg

Fareastdriver
20th Dec 2012, 08:07
Nothing changed in Bomber Command even in the sixties. Pilot Officers and Flying Officers ranks were not acknowledged.

Geriaviator
20th Dec 2012, 10:57
Thanks Chugalug, this is indeed a poignant picture but I could not get the images to appear, only the links. Here are a couple more, taken by my father with his illegal Brownie box camera when 142 and 12 Sqns were based at Berry-au-Bac in winter 1939/40.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/10_Laonroad_zpseb97c703.jpg
A Fairey Battle taxies from its dispersal in the hedges alongside the main road
between Laon and Reims, its airfield a grass area made from fields on the right. Most personnel were under canvas. Snow has been shovelled from the manoeuvering areas in the bitterly cold winter of Dec 1940 with temperatures often below -20C.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/11_dailycheck_zps2d1d03a9.jpg

Cpl. Davis doing the daily checks, in the open as usual. Ground crews would toil throughout the war in conditions ranging from tropical heat to the depths of a Lincolnshire winter. Their vital role is often forgotten, especially those in Bomber Command.

With the Battle squadrons on readiness, their Merlin engines had to be run every hour to prevent the oil from solidifying in temperatures well below zero. Starting was by trolley-acc, a bank of batteries on a small handcart, charged by a small generator which could not keep up with so many starts. Instead the squadron used a rope lashed to a leather cap placed over the propellor tip. At the call “Three on the cap ... contact ... two-six, HEAVE” three airmen would pull the rope to turn the engine, the cap (hopefully) being thrown clear as the Merlin fired.

Note the single forward-firing Browning in the wing. This, and a hand-held Vickers in the rear cockpit, comprised the Battle's defence against the Me109, which was almost 100mph faster.

Danny, we're all waiting for more memories. I have indeed read every line and watched every minute of the Vengeance film, and suffered for spending hours on this thread. Better go now before I hear the siren call down the hall: "Will you get OFF that **** computer NOW". :ouch:

ancientaviator62
20th Dec 2012, 12:36
Geriaviator,
these are very evocative pictures. Thank you for sharing them and the story with us.

26er
20th Dec 2012, 15:40
In the photo at 3302 two of the officers in the front row seem to have a badge above their sleeve rank "rings". Can anyone explain, please?

Danny42C
20th Dec 2012, 15:45
Chugalug, Fareastdriver, and Geriaviator,

What a feast for Christmas ! Thank you, thank you !

Questions and comments fairly bubble up:

(Cpl Davies looking with affection - or Wild Surmise ?) at the Merlin......What a subject for the Caption Competition !........I like those exhaust stubs (anti-glare for n/f ?).........Surely they could afford a spinner to make the poor old thing look "finished off" (in the nice sense) ?........Shows what could be done with a Box Brownie (12/6 ?).....the original point-and-click.

(The one with a wheel on the - evilly glittering with ice -road).......What happened when he started to taxy from his dispersal?......How far did he get ?.....How did he stop ?

I've heard of the Rope Trick before. As told to me, it was a Dakota. They wound the rope round the prop hub and hitched the other end to a Jeep.

All this must not blind us to the terrible reality. Over half the Battle aircrews who went out to France died (Wiki tells me that it was pro rata the worst casualty rate of the war). The RAF won its first two VCs (F/O Garland and Sgt Gray). The poor airman who was the gunner in the back got nothing - he was not part of the decision-making process and so did not have to be brave to get killed !.......it makes my blood boil even now.

Of course this was replicated many times after, the pilot (and perhaps the Nav) got his DFC/DFM at the end of their "tour", the lesser breed down the back got nowt. Speaking as one who earned (and got) nothing beyond a whole skin and is therefore impartial, I thought it grossly unfair.

Geriaviator, as I have said somewhere before: I shall endeavour to give complete satisfaction !.......And don't we all know that peremptory call !

Danny.

EDIT: 26er, Their uniforms look darker, too. Could they be RAAF ? But then didn't they have black plastic buttons instead of brass ? (So long ago, so hard to remember). Garland and Gray, BTW, were 12 Sqdn. The bridge-busting operation was a gallant try; France collapsed; Guderian and his merry men were to go straigh through just the same next year.....D.

Chugalug2
20th Dec 2012, 20:34
Danny, I don't know whether you've been watching the Dangerous Railways series on Channel 5 with Chris Tarrant, but in case you haven't this last episode should be of interest. He rides the Konkan line south of Bombay down the west coast to Goa. This is the missing line that you couldn't take, on account it wasn't built until the 90's. Despite Tarrant's "Grumpy Old Man" style (at least he manages without clutching an ancient copy of Bradshaw throughout!), the technical achievements of what were then 20 year old engineers are impressive. The British decided that this route, open to the Monsoons from the Arabian Sea and the raging rivers out of the Western Ghat, was just too difficult to build and operate. The Indians begged to differ...
Episode 3: India | Chris Tarrant: Extreme Railways | Channel 5 (http://www.channel5.com/shows/chris-tarrant-extreme-railways/episodes/episode-3-442)

Ref the two officers with darker uniforms, they probably are Australian as neither of them have folded their arms exactly as briefed, unlike nearly everyone else! :ok:

Danny42C
20th Dec 2012, 20:51
The cockpit held no new terrors: the Sperry panel in the middle was the same as ever plus a Machmeter and, IIRC, the only engine instruments we had were the Jet Pipe Temperatures down below and the RPMs very much up top. Curiously, these were not %-calibrated, but two three-needle instruments exactly like an (old style) altimeter. I think we got 14,700 rpm for take-off, 14,550 was climb and 14,100 continuous, Flight Idle 8,000 and Ground Idle 3,500.

The three-needle ALT was a death trap for some new (and old) boys, as you came down at 8,000 ft/min (almost as fast as you went up), and in cloud poor Bloggs could be so concentrated on the hundreds whizzing round, and the thousands no slouches either, that he did not notice that the small 10,000-er had crept from one side of the "1" to the other.

At the bottom were the aforesaid JPTs, u/c indicators, brake pressures and (most importantly) the twin fuel gauges. The normal fill was 2 x 160 galls, this would give you about 45 min safe endurance. You must get back in circuit with 60/60, this would allow for two missed approaches. A ventral plus two tip tanks would add up to a total of 505 gallons, and you could do an hour with that.

There must have been a week of groundschool first, and on 6th Feby I climbed in with P2 Willis. He lined up on the runway, checked that the brakes would hold at 11,000 rpm, then pushed the throttles the rest of the way. The thing accelerated smoothly, no drama, no vibration, not all that much noise inside. Nosewheel off at 85 kts, the rest about 125 (IIRC). I noted with some concern u/c and flap (side by side) flick up as soon as we were clear of the ground. Up to now, we'd always waited 2-300 ft with the flaps in case the aircraft sank a bit, but the Meteor just shrugged it off.

He reduced to 14,550 and held it down till 270 kts, then pulled the nose up and up until I was "sitting on the back of my neck" (like a glider winch launch). "Zoom climb", I thought, "can't keep this up for long", and waited for the speed to drop off. But it didn't. The ASI stuck at 270, the aircraft stayed in this ridiculous attitude and the rate-of-climb was jammed against the top stop. We were punching up through the cloud layers like a rocket.

Its climb was the Meteor's party piece; the initial rate must have been around 10,000 ft/min., and as it went up it didn't seem to slacken much. "Pilot's Notes" told you to maintain 270 up to Mach 0.7, then carry on at that. Of course, the T7 was the fastest climber of the lot, having no armament or armour to carry.

After three minutes or so of this "homesick-angel" act, he levelled off at 30,000; now we're out in the blazing sun, the tops of the winter cloud far below us. Reducing to 13,500, we cruised nicely at 250 kts (Mach 0.65 ?) and he handed over to me. It handled nicely enough, but (I thought) with a strange wooly "dead" feel, far from the razor-sharp responses of a Spitfire. He took back control, throttled one engine to idle, trimmed out the yaw and gave it to me again. I was quite surprised what little difference that made: it handled exactly as before, and didn't lose much speed.

Then we tried teasing the dreaded (in those days) "Sound Barrier". Up there, knots are of little interest, what matters is the Mach number (which had its own clock on the panel). Pushing the power back to 14,500 (on both now, of course), and lowering the nose slightly, we crept slowly up to 0.76 before things ("Compressibility Effects") started to happen.

The first sympton was a curious "snatching" at the controls, as if some mischievous imp were sitting on the wing tip and idly kicking the ailerons. At 0.79, this was followed by the pressure instruments "flicking", and at 0.80 the whole airframe started to vibrate violently, but only in fits and starts. I believe 0.82 was as far as you could get before some nameless disaster would overtake you. (0.80 was reckoned to be "Fast Enough for Married Men").

We now decided discretion might be the better part of valour, having poked a finger in the eye of Providence quite far enough for one day. But before proceeding further with the exercise, we had to call for a "Steer". The limited endurance of the Meteor meant that you dare not stray far from home, so as to be close to overhead when it was time to go down, and every minute would count. A demonstration high-Mach run such as we'd just done might well have taken us 25-30 miles away. Right through all your exercises, you'd call for a "Steer" every few minutes to keep near to Driffield.

So before I describe our descent, which would prove to be as Gadarene as our climb had been rocket-like, I am next time going to bore you stiff with an account of the early days when the CR/DF (later CA/DF - same difference) and the Voice Rotating Beacon (VRB, ask Grandad) stalked the land. For, as a rule, Grandad could not mapread for toffee, and even if he had a Radio Compass (v. rare in singles) would have no idea how to use it, so he needed assistance from his friendly Air Traffic Control Officer (Advt) to guide him home to roost.

Bear with me for the next Instalment,

Danny42C.


Waken up at the back, there ! The End of the World is Nigh !


EDIT: Chugalug,

Thanks for the steer ! (intended to see that programme, things intervened, Short Term Memory Loss took hold - again). Will enjoy at leisure in New Year (DV), seems thing is on tap to 19.12.13.

Yes, I think they would be Aussies. Can you remember the buttons ? What would the badge be, do you suppose (surely not a 'roo !)

EDIT II: Of course ! - Google: "Grants Militaria WWII Air Force Uniforms Australian" tells all. Shows black buttons. These chaps probably wore brass pre-war and still had them in France. Cuff badge was dark bronze eagle & crown ("roo" indeed !)

Danny.

BEagle
21st Dec 2012, 07:35
(Do you remember the character in Doctor in the House (was it "Benskin" ?) on whom an incautious aunt had settled an allowance of £1,000 p.a. so long as he remained a medical student. He became a professional exam-failurerer !) EDIT: (until his fiancée made him buckle down and qualify !)

It was Kenny More's 'Richard Grimsdyke' character - and the aunt was 'Mrs Rivington-Lomax', who'd left him £500 p.a. whilst under training to become a doctor. Hence he kept failing his exams.

The 'C' exam was always a Bête Noire to many of us. Dealing with matters at Secret level on a daily basis, answering questions for some blunty's benefit at unclas level seemed daft. They did actually bin the 'C' exam eventually and people were allegedly promoted on merit. If you got a Spec Rec, you were supposed to 'go up' on the next list. But not so - it took me 3 consecutive SRs (and, as I later found out, "Why hasn't he been promoted?" enquiries from an AVM....) as a Spec Aircrew Flt Lt before I eventually a Blue Envelope*. I guess I should have volunteered to be the OM House Member or something similar.....:bored:

Great thread this - Geriaviator's Battle photos are an absolute treasure and I'm sure that the RAFM Hendon or the IWM would be very interested in copies.

*I gather that this hallowed tradition no longer exists in what passes for today's RAF...:hmm:

Danny42C
21st Dec 2012, 11:50
BEagle,

Thanks for setting me right about Grimsdike/Benskin. It was a long time ago !

The exam "B" held no terrors for me, for it was (for a variety of reasons) never in my sights. There was a general belief at one time that, in order to get a PC (and, by extension, having a hope of S/Ldr), you needed to (a) be a member of the RAF Club and (b) have played rugby for (at least) your Station (Group/Command/RAF so much the better).

Probably sour grapes !

Danny.

Fareastdriver
21st Dec 2012, 13:17
It got worse than that Danny. The rugby ball and Bible brigade ran Bomber Command. Career advancment was the priority. You would have Flt Lts who had passed the 'C' exam having their Flt Lt braid spaced two inches apart to let the world know they were expecting their scraper in the next List. Some used to remember their Air Force List column number to assess seniority. If anything went wrong, anything, you good sense career warning lights flashing all over the place.

Luckily when the Valiants folded I was packed off out to Borneo.

Steve Bond
21st Dec 2012, 13:29
I would not hold your breath about Bomber Command Heritage winning the bid for Bicester!

Geriaviator
21st Dec 2012, 15:29
Danny, and other piston drivers of yesteryear, please can you give your memories of icing? I read somewhere that the weather may have claimed more Allied aircrew than the Luftwaffe, and a greasy paste was the only protection against icing at least in the early years.

For those who have not been terrified into a change of underwear, as I was, around freezing point and below the tiny droplets of water in a cloud turn to ice when an aircraft hits them. The resulting layer of ice destroys the aerofoil shape of the wing so it loses lift, it chokes air intakes, unbalances propellor blades so the aircraft shakes like a giant rattle, jams controls and generally spoils one's day.

In well over a thousand hours I encountered severe icing only once and thereafter took great care to ensure that the closest I got to ice was that in a small glass, well diluted with suitable antifreeze. Those five minutes on a November day still fill me with dread, but your generation took off to face icing and other perils night after night. I salute you all.

Danny42C
21st Dec 2012, 22:51
Geriaviator,

With much the same total as yours, can only think of one occasion when I was seriously troubled by ice, but that was rather odd.

After our 30-minute exercises up high in the T7, we were strongly advised to get down on the ground as quickly as possible. It seems that the airframe, perspex and front panel would be "soaked" in cold from the -50 degrees up there. If you came down slowly into warmer and more humid air, hoar frost would be apt to form inside the perspex and front panel (IIRC, not heated in any way). as fast as you could scrape it off. This left you blind.

It happened to me one day and was quite frightening. There was, I'm fairly sure, a small openable panel just to the left of the front screen. I didn't open it (think of the draught !), but scrabbled a small hole about 6 in wide, just enough to fly a circuit and put it down. Of course, if I'd had plenty of fuel, it would have been no problem, I'd just hang around for ten minutes to let it melt. But I didn't have ten minutes !

I've never been able to understand how you could "beat the frost to it" in this way, but you could (it's counter-intuitive). Can any reader enlighten me ?

Danny.

Chugalug2
22nd Dec 2012, 11:06
Danny,
I'll leave it to others to explain the hoar frost query, other than to conjecture that with a very fast descent through such a warmer and wetter air, the air inside the cockpit might still remain dry enough long enough to delay its formation and hence prevent it? My query is not with the aircraft so much as with yourself. With a non pressurised cockpit your body, and in particular the ear drums and Eustachian tubes, was experiencing directly the effects of "off the clock" climb and descent rates. Any hint of a cold would surely have led to burst ear drums. Were there any such cases? Was the "Can't clear your ears, can't fly" rule rigidly enforced or was that yet to be learnt the hard way?
Do you remember the BBC series "War in the Air" (all 405 lines of course, so even if recorded not good enough for transmission these days). The opening sequence showed a flight of Meteors getting airborne and being held down just as you describe to attain the required climb speed in order to zoom heavenward.

aw ditor
22nd Dec 2012, 11:17
D42C

Your comments at 3309' on the triple pointer altimeter are so true. Luckily when I had my salutary experience in a T7 at Worksop there was a QFI on board. I believe a number of Canberras went into the Drink at about the 10,000 foot point to the East of Binbrook; perhaps some ex-Binbrook Canberra ppruners could comment. I understand it took a lot of effort for their Airships' to be persuaded there was a much better and safer presentation.

AD'

Danny42C
22nd Dec 2012, 16:15
Fareastdriver,

Never got to Borneo myself. Was on standby, though, remember they bought me a beautiful blue-and-gold passport (one of the last of its kind - in the days when the Foreign Secretary of His Brittannic Majesty spoke and the world trembled) and jabbed me like a pincushion.........D.

Chugalug,

After mulling over your suggesion re Frost, think you may well be right. Funny thing, I can't recall any form of heating or ventilation in the T7, but we only wore flying overalls over shirt sleeves yet were not cold. I suppose the radiant heat from the sun was enough, and we were only up there half an hour anyway. And we were on full oxygen from ground up, would that keep you warm ? If there was no contact with the air outside, a sort of warm cocoon would develop in the cockpits and this micro-climate last long enough to hold the frost at bay for the three minutes or so necessary. (Is there a MET man in the house ?)

As for ear-drums and Eustachian tubes, my recollection is that nobody bothered very much. In the VV we came down at 20,000 ft/min, but only for 20 seconds (and I can never remember having a cold out there). In the UK, I think it was just left to a chap's common sense whether he flew or not "bunged up". If he bust an eardrum, it was his own stupid fault.......D

aw ditor,

Sadly, the digital presentation ALT had not got into the T7 when I last flew it in November '54; the old 3-pointer was still claiming lives. Did the civvies have it ? - Flight Levels came in when ? Not in my time !.........D.

Now a Merry Christmas and my wishes for a Happy New Year to all PPRuNers (and my special thanks to the Moderator(s) for their patience in allowing so much slack to an old man who Gained His RAF Brevet in WW2),

Danny42C

26er
22nd Dec 2012, 16:32
Regarding de-icing the inside of the transparencies of the Meteor our local mod was a small canvas bag attached to a suitable place in the front cockpit which contained on a piece of string a small sponge from a dinghy pack soaked in glycol. The other alternative was to romp around for a few minutes at low level and high speed (400 kts-ish) whilst watching the fuel gauges unwind !

On one occasion the pitot heater failed and the asi and the vsi (or should that be, for the politically correct, rcdi?) gave up the ghost above some embarrassing cloud whilst I was conducting an IRT. We let down using the flap indicator which, if 1/3 flap was selected, showed the flaps being blown back up above 230 kts or so. The cloud base and fuel state were fortunately sufficient for a high speed romp around North Devon to thaw the ice before joining the circuit.

Those of us familiar with Hunters will no doubt remember romping around at high power and low level with as much flap, airbrake and u/c as could safely be extended to burn off excess fuel to get down to max landing weight, which if you had two 230s, 2 100s and 560 rounds equated to min circuit fuel. Happy days.

Chugalug2
22nd Dec 2012, 17:19
Danny:-
I can't recall any form of heating or ventilation in the T7
Never fear Danny, for the web as ever will answer your every query. Herewith Pilots Notes for the Meteor T7 amended up to 1970, c/o Avialogs.
2499 todo (http://www.avialogs.com/list/item/3381-2499todo)
I'll leave you to lovingly recall all the technical detail over the next few days, unless you have something else lined up. You have? Christmas? Oh, then may I return your festive greetings and thank you sincerely for the wit and detail with which you have described all your yesterdays? May there be many many more!
Merry Christmas Danny,
Chug

mmitch
22nd Dec 2012, 19:12
Merry Christmas to all you worthy gentlemen! Perhaps as you sit back with a quiet drink your thoughts will roll back to very different Christmas times?
mmitch.

Geriaviator
23rd Dec 2012, 12:26
More pictures from my father's Brownie, but one photo is annotated that his camera cost 25s, double the 12s 6d quoted by Danny! Either Danny had good contacts or (more likely) the Andover chemist who doubled as photographic dealer in those days saw Dad coming.

My father was also angered by the treatment of the erks, or LAC gunners. He recalled that they were expected to attend morning parade after (or if) they returned from night ops. On one occasion a particularly thick F/Sgt of prewar days wanted to charge a gunner who was late on parade after an op, though this was too much even for the boneheads in SHQ who told him to forget it.

Shortly after changing their Hawker Hinds for Battles the squadron was posted to Montrose on the east coast of Scotland. The aircraft were fitted with mysterious underwing drums from which a yellow substance could be sprayed during flight. Ground crews were told not to worry about German gas attack as Britain had ample means of retaliation.

Spraying exercises along the shoreline culminated with an attack on an Army base which may have been Fort George at Inverness. It was timed to coincide with a big parade, and the unfortunate and heavily bulled Pongos were sprayed with yellow gunge from low-flying Battles.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/5_Battlecrew_zps46f023ec.jpg

My father took this pic of Plt Off Roth’s aircraft near Andover 1938. It shows Battle crew positions pilot, navigator, and w/op air gunner. Roth was shot down in 1940 while attacking German columns and taken POW.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/7_sgtprichard_zpsfff2e1ef.jpg

My father, Sgt Pritchard, and A. H. Tomes after the sortie. He thought Sgt Pritchard was shot down in France. Funnel object above their heads is the venturi which produced vacuum for air-driven instruments.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/6_quartet_0002_zpsf0cf2e7b.jpg
Arrival at Berry-au-Bac, November 1939. Heighton, Jones, my father, and Theobold, having camouflaged the Battle with branches taken from the roadside hedges.

More pix to come shortly. Meantime, Merry Christmas, everyone, especially Santa's senior captain, now in the jet age!

Danny42C
23rd Dec 2012, 22:24
Chugalug,

Thank you so much for my "Pilot's Notes". After a cursory look-through, note that (as amended to 1970), much has changed since my time 20 years before (in particular, Intentional Spins are now prohibited - and a good thing, too !)

How did we learn all this stuff in a few days ? I have signed a certificate (as we all had to do, and a copy sits accusingly in my log), to the effect that: "I fully understand:- (1) Fuel and oil, (2) Hydraulic, and (3) Pneumatic Systems, (4) Emergency Operation of Flaps and Undercarriage, (5) Action in the event of Fire, and (6) Method of abandonin (sic) aircraft, in respect of Meteor 7 and Vampire aircraft".

They'd covered themselves pretty comprehensively, wouldn't you say ? (what had the poor Electrical System done to be missed out ? - but to compensate, they'd thrown in the Vampire, which I'd never even touched !)

Now anything which happened to the aeroplane must be my fault..........D,

mmitch

Too true they do !........(Absent Friends)......D.

Geriaviator,

What a feast is laid before me !......Where to start ?..... In order, therefore:

Dad will be right (but 25 bob was a lot of money - say £60 today).......
The whole thing has a strange feel of being just an extension of peacetime (the "Phoney War"?). The F/Sgt hadn't taken it in that they were in a life-or-death struggle - he was in peacetime mode still......
Now I sit up with a jerk (almost spill my cocoa): if it looks like mustard, sprays like mustard etc, it certainly was mustard. Pongos were sprayed ! (No, surely not - this cannot have happened ?)
And how come I'm doing exactly the same thing six years later in Cannanore ? Do we ever learn ?.........D.

now the lovely photos:

Was there ever a longer canopy - you could put two more chaps in there. Gunner has got his Vickers G.O. in with him ? Looks like a loaded 11 lb practice bomb rack under the wing, yet something odd about it. What put the neat hole in the fin - mice ?.............
Again the quiet, relaxed, "summer afternoon" feel about this. Your dad is still in his old "button-up", the Sgt-Pilot has swung rank on the store-basher. Belts are worn tight this year. Cary Grant (aka Tomes) looks v. debonair. Anyone for tennis ?..............
Am I alone in seeing disembodied head over Gunner's canopy ? Your dad - Officer Material if ever I saw it ! Heighton, where did you get the swagger stick ? Theobald, wouldn't stand around like that for long, if I were you !........D.

God rest ye , merry Gentlemen all, now - and (especially) then,

Danny.

Danny42C
27th Dec 2012, 18:19
Last time, I threatened to bore you. I am a man of my word.

From the very earliest days of radio, the possibilities of Direction Finding by this means had been exploited. But the old manual D/F rigs needed forever and a day to give you a bearing, and even then you were never quite sure that you hadn't got a reciprocal.

Enter the Cathode Ray Direction Finder. Fanfare of trumpets for the finest piece of navigational (ground) equipment that the RAF has had in half a century ? Not a bit of it ! I cannot find (Google/Wiki) a definitive date for its introduction in service, but in early '50s some places had got it, and some not, and Driffield was one of the lucky ones. And they were still going strong (as Commutated Antenna Direction Finders - UHF had come in) when I retired in '72. They may be going yet, for all I know....... Anybody ?

Some seven years after Driffield, a USAF Colonel came round Strubby to have a look at our gear. Uninterested in the old MPN1 Bendix radar truck (outdated US stock anyway), his gaze lit on the CR/DF tube. With growing fascination, he watched a highly skilled operator (modesty forbids) safely gather in a mixed bag of Hunters, Canberras and Meteors out of the winter murk (and feeding them into GCA if required) with practised ease. "That", said he finally, with obvious sincerity, "is the best Goddam aid I ever saw !" Hard to believe, but the USAF had (then) nothing to match it.

One of his compatriots had even more reason to admire the system at that time. The obvious extension of the service from simple airfield recovery was to be the bedrock of the VHF Emergency system (on 121.5). Three or more CR/DFs, widely dispersed, transmitted their bearings by landline to a Rescue Co-ordination Centre, There they flashed up onto a screen, intersected, and showed an instant "fix".

Our chap was very high in the Blue Yonder over the North Sea. The thing he was in spontaneously combusted and he had to get out very fast. He put out a Mayday, but got no further than "May" when the flames licked his bottom and he had to break off the conversation. But it was enough.

And it so happened (it really was his lucky day) that a S&R Helicopter was going out on an exercise, and was pretty well on the spot. It hung around until they saw him floating down and positioned themselves. They fished him out of the North Sea before he finished spouting out his first mouthful. (Pity they didn't have a sort of big butterfly net available, he wouldn't even have had to get wet). He sang the praises of the Limeys to his dying day (or so the story went).

As I have said, you called for steers repeatedly and, as everybody else in the upper airspace was doing the same, the poor Approach Controller was working like a one-armed paper-hanger. A way to automate the job was urgently needed; the boffins turned up trumps. They devised the Voice Rotating Beacon (VRB).

A ground transmitter near the airfield put out a rotating narrow beam signal. This was synchronised with a closed loop which carried a R/T recorded message in such a way that a listening pilot would hear only a short message, telling him his "Steer" (to the nearest ten degrees). With your fuel contents needles almost visibly moving down as you watched, this was a great comfort. It worked like this:

On its own frequency, (of course) you would hear faintly, (say) "Zero Three, Alpha", then much louder: "Zero Four, Alpha", then faintly again: "Zero Five, Alpha", then silence for half a minute while the radio "lighthouse" was going round, and then a repeat. "Alpha" was the ident, (there were several VRBs in the UK and it was advisable to be on the right one).

In the case given, you'd turn onto 040°. As you approached your field, the accuracy would increase and when you passed o/head, the QDMs would suddenly reverse and you knew where you were. Below cloud, you would have seen your field and joined visually.

The beauty of the idea was that it could serve an infinite number of customers at once (like a GPI). But this was to prove the Achilles' heel. A number of aircraft might be at the same height in poor visibility, pilots head down in the cockpit, fixed on their D.I.s, all homing onto the same point.

There were a number of spectacular near misses (as the system was not controlled in any way), but I don't think there was ever a collision. The risk was reduced by making people fly quadrantals, but could not be eliminated. Eventually the JP came into the schools, they got their own CR/DF and took over from Driffield and its VRB.

The VRBs were phased out, but not forgotten. The quicker thinking of our readership will have realised that the basic principle was ripe for development into the VOR, with only the voice element being replaced by a transmission which actuated the aircraft panel instrument.

The last VRB was in operation in the mid-'60s. I hunted it down on a quiet weekend ATC watch in Shawbury and found it (in RAFAC) somewhere in W. Africa (Ghana, I think). Long gone now, of course, but it was a Good Idea at the Time.

Now you have all been such good boys, and not fidgeted too much, so we shall go back to our Meteor next time.

Au revoir,

Danny42C.

(he has been at the Fine Ruby Port again)

Icare9
27th Dec 2012, 19:10
... just the shape of the leaves, not a disembodied head, Danny, 'tho that Ruby Port may have had an influence! ... and if that's NOT the rest of him perched on the wing between those still on terra firma!
May I add not only belated Christmas greetings but also a Happy and Healthy New Year to you and that gallant (dwindling) band that form the kernel of this thread.

Taphappy
27th Dec 2012, 22:10
Taphappy here, still vertical and above ground, may I wish a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all Crew room members.
Danny,
I have been followiing your post war exploits with great interest and it is great to see such places as Driffield and Strubby mentioned which bring back memories.
Your last post has blinded me with science so perhaps I made the right decision by not staying in the RAF.
Chugalug,
A few posts ago you made reference to the Polish aircrew who stayed in the RAF after the war and I can only second your comments as quite a number of the staff pilots at 5ANS in 1946 were Poles who because of the political situation could not return to their homeland. They were great guys and gave great service to the RAF

ancientaviator62
29th Dec 2012, 08:53
Geriaviator,
have you even been to Berry au Bac ? Whilst I appreciate the Sqn was operating out of fields there may well be someone there who remembers which one. Thank you for the pics and the story.

Molemot
29th Dec 2012, 12:05
There is still an aerodrome north of Berry au Bac, next to the road as described by Geraviator. Googlemap will find it, but I can't seem to post a link! I have been to Berry au Bac, but only on my boat.....

Danny42C
29th Dec 2012, 15:34
What Goeth Up, must yet Descend, all good things come to an end and soon it was time to go home. The endurance of the T7 was 45 mins and you could count out 10 mins for start-up, taxy out and taxy in. This left you 35 mins, and now you had used (say) 5 mins to get to the upper air (where you did all your exercises). Now you're down to 30 mins. You could not afford a wasted minute in getting down, for this would eat still further into the little time left for instruction or practice up on top. (And there was another good reason, see my reply to Geriaviator - #3315).

The RAF devised the high-level Controlled Descent procedure (QGH): this was standard for all my years in the RAF. All depended on the CR/DF. Assuming you had religiously kept calling for Steers (or kept an ear on the VRB), you should not be far away. The ATC would set you a height to fly (16,000 ft was the usual starter - Flight Levels were far in the future). Two or three more Steers should see you o/h Driffield (ATC can see this on the CR tube).

Then he would turn you onto your Outbound leg in the "Safety Lane" (this was a misnomer if ever there was, the only thing he knew was that there was no high ground in it). Immediately you confirmed on the outbound heading, he would check QFE set and you were told "Commence Descent, call turning left at Ten" (say).

Then the fun started. You reduced to Flight Idle (8,000 rpm), put the airbrakes out and maintained 250 kts. To do this required about a 50° dive and the rate-of-climb hit the stops the other way. About 8,000 ft/min we reckoned, which meant that your turn should come up in about 45 seconds, give or take. You called "Harpic" (unofficial, but used everywhere in the RAF, for Harpic reaches.......!) ATC would come back with your inbound heading, and "Check height, 2,500 ft" (say). If ATC was on the ball, he would have started with your "Harpic" bearing, allowed for your turn (Rate 1) and any correction needed to close you on the Inbound Safety Lane heading.

As you approached 2,500, you would pull out of your dive to get level at that height, brakes in and let speed bleed off to circuit speed (180 Kts ?). If you were visual, ATC would give you a steer or two until "Field in Sight".... ...."Over to local". Otherwise, it would be "Descend to visual", etc. Now if all was quiet, and there was no other traffic, and the pilot and ATC were reasonably competent, this worked like a charm. From "Commence Descent" to "Field in Sight" should last no more than 2-3 minutes. But......... There was generally more than one customer at a time. No.2 was homed at 17,000 until No.1 had started down, and was not cleared to descend until No.1 had turned inbound. Again ATC was busy - four at a time was reckoned the practical limit if everybody was playing the game.

It was a big "if" ! A high speed turn in (possibly turbulent) cloud on instruments, standing almost upright on his rudder pedals in a 50° dive, is no fun for anybody. For poor Bloggs (solo), who had been bumbling about gently in his Oxford only a few short weeks ago, it was all too often the end. Even if he kept a semblance of control, he could be trapped by the smallest ASI needle and believe himself to be at 14,000 when it was really 4,000 ft (sounds unbelievable, but we know - from the lucky ones who survived - that it did happen). I would think that many of the cases when he came out of clouds like a thunderbolt and went in like a tentpeg stemmed from this source. (See aw ditor's comment #3317 p. 166 26 Dec).

With my time as a dive-bomber as useful experience, the descent attitude was no problem, and I was well trained in watching my altimeter like a hawk, but even so, sometimes doing it in cloud (and a turn into the bargain) kept me on my toes (in every sense !) However, I'm still here, aren't I ?, so we must have got back in the circuit all right.

Plain sailing now. I'm a bit hazy about speeds (and have no Pilot's Notes for the T7 of '50) , but remember that we kept 1/3 flap on (for better control). U/C limitation was about 160 kts, and you musn't forget to put your airbrakes in (you may have used them to slow down to circuit speed). No "Spitfire Approaches" now. A nice, sweeping turn at around 150 kts. Full flap. Engines kept at 8,000 - (you might yet need full power in a hurry), and now the biggest change in my flying experience in nearly ten years. Throttles closed in good time (engines take much longer to wind down). You didn't land aeroplanes any more, it seemed. You just flew them onto the runway. An orang-utan could do it. I could do it.

Of course this was my first nosewheel landing. "Just do a wheeler", said Willis, and demonstrated. Now he had to put the nosewheel down. I watched in horror as the nose went down.....down.... down. The wheel's still up ! The nose's going in ! - (and me with it !) Then the comforting thump as rubber met tarmac.

Now I'm in a dream aeroplane. It couldn't ground-loop - it would run true. It wouldn't float off, even if you'd come in too fast. It wouldn't bounce - it would break first (so I was told - never tried it). You could clap the brakes on as hard as you liked - you couldn't put the nose in. What more could a man want ? To stop the damn' thing before it went haring off the far end, of course! Thank God for Mr. Dunlop ! I'm afraid he was cruelly misused in our early days.

That'll do to be going on with. With all Good Wishes for Good Fortune in 2013 to all my readers (and the rest of you !)

Danny42C


Say not the struggle naught availeth.

goofer3
30th Dec 2012, 07:32
A well known internet auction site has a DFC medal group for a WW2 Halifax pilot with a bit of history that may sound a little familiar in places to readers of this thread. Are they?

Geriaviator
30th Dec 2012, 12:06
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/12_camouflage_zps9ec66752.jpg
Personnel of 142 and (I think) 12 Sqns cut off branches to camouflage their Fairey Battles on their makeshift airfield at Berry-au-Bac. Note Battle nose visible at top right. Right picture: In -20C temperatures and thick snow, they lived in tents pitched around the woodland. One of the tents can be seen on the left.
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/9_dailymail_zps0c68699b.jpg
For light relief, one could always dress up: my father in German helmet found in the WWI fortifications. The helmet was holed front and back. Such antics ceased when someone dressed in similar fashion and carrying an old weapon was shot by a nervous sentry. My father noted that the bunkers contained many helmets, gas masks, footwear and piles of shells of all sizes, left after the first war. Right picture: Four-page editions of the Daily Mail were regularly delivered to the personnel at Berry-au-Bac.

To my fellow ancient aviator: A sad story why I never made it to Berry-au-Bac. When my father left the Service in 1962 he swore he would never fly again. I gained my licence shortly afterwards and for the next 24 years my many offers of a flight were politely declined in Service fashion, ie Notbloodylikely or Nobloodyfear.

Came the day when he discovered a wartime friend paying a short visit from the USA to Weston-super-Mare. I explained he could get there quite easily in about 20 hours ... or I could collect him next morning and have him there for his morning cuppa. He was very nervous at first but we had an excellent trip in brilliant sunshine, and he couldn't get over the comfort and performance of my Piper Arrow, 160mph at FL100 over Snowdonia.

When I asked him in early 1986 if he would like a trip to Berry-au-Bac, to my great surprise he said he would love to go. I still regret that he died a few months later before I could take him.

Last but not least to Danny: the "gas" attack indeed happened, my father said the Pongos were very annoyed and complained bitterly, to which the RAF replied that the Germans too would not give much warning of an attack. However, my father was in no doubt that poison gas would be available if the Germans used it first.

Re earlier pic of the Battle cockpit: the gun was stored inside the cockpit. When necessary the canopy was hinged from its forward end into the vertical position, providing some protection from the slipstream. The hapless gunner stood facing the rear, monkey-chain around his waist to keep him in, Vickers on a ball mounting to combat the fast-approaching cannon.
The hole in the fin is a defect in the original photo. I don't know about the bomb racks, though apparently they were ideal for carrying a bicycle in the days when people walked or cycled rather than drove.

Danny, your memories and your style are spellbinding. Thank you again, and please keep them coming!

ancientaviator62
30th Dec 2012, 12:23
Geriaviator,
thank you for your explanation. Berry au Bac is very close to a place we visit when in France. It is The Dragons Cave on the Chemin des Dames. I will make a point of going there when I next visit the area. Your stories and the incredible pics I find riveting as I do Danny's tales. I too have a regret that I never managed to get a neighbour to the RAF Museum before he died. He had flown on the Berlin Airlift as a Flight Engineer on Avro Yorks. His pics , log book etc were all lost in a burglary !

Danny42C
30th Dec 2012, 22:53
goofer3,

Sounds ominous. But the auctioneer's catalogue would name the (presumably deceased) recipent, surely ? There must be a lot of Lancaster and Halifax ex-aircrew going to their rewards now; a lot of medals going for sale.....D.

Geriaviator,

Copies of this wonderful cache of photographs must go to the RAF and Imperial War Museums, for I'm sure that documentation of that period of the War must (in view of the circumstances at the time) be scarce.

They were certainly living in miserable conditions, under canvas in that weather. You would think that a local village would be a better bet - in the straw in a barn could be quite warm.

Yes, your chap with the stahlhelm was asking for trouble. There was an apocryphal story (how I love that word !) that, near the war's end, when the uniforms of all Free Europe were fielding salutes around the West End, two RAF Intelligence types dressed up as Luftwaffe officers and joined the parade for a couple of hours before someone said "Half a mo' !

I'm not convinced by the RAF excuse for spraying the squaddies with mustard. On the same logic, a Hurricane could have cut a swathe through them with all guns firing. I would not have liked to have been the pilot when he got down !

And now I come to think of it the Battle photo was pre-war; the gunner could keep snug and warm with his gun, safe from surprise attack. And I've just noticed how sleek a Battle really looked. A bit of dihedral would have improved it IMHO, but it was really quite a handsome aircraft.

A practice bomb rack used as a bike-carrier ? Perfectly true - I have seen it done (you had to loosen the handlebars and turn them. of course)......D.

To you all, thanks for your encouragement and a Happy New Year.

Danny.

BEagle
31st Dec 2012, 08:14
The endurance of the T7 was 45 mins and you could count out 10 mins for start-up, taxy out and taxy in. This left you 35 mins, and now you had used (say) 5 mins to get to the upper air (where you did all your exercises).

I recall reading a comment from some ex-bomber baron posted to CFS to fly the Meatbox:

"When I'm down to 30 min endurance, one radio and no navigation aids, I normally declare an emergency - rather than ask for take-off clearance!"

Blacksheep
31st Dec 2012, 09:55
I don't know about the bomb racks, though apparently they were ideal for carrying a bicycle in the days when people walked or cycled rather than drove. The spares pannier carried in a V Bomber bomb bay when one went on detachment generally contained the Crew Chief's bicycle. The ossifers would be whisked away in a crew bus while poor old chiefy was left behind to tidy up the aeroplane and make his own way to the Sergeants' Mess. :(

Danny42C
31st Dec 2012, 17:35
As always under training, my log just shows a series of exercise numbers, which now mean nothing to me. One solo trip logged 1.05: this would obviously have been a cross-country with ventral and tip tanks. As for the rest (amounting to 20 trips totalling 15 hrs), one was a (dual) spinning exercise, and a number of others would obviously need to be asymmetric. Five were I/F.

One thing I do remember about aerobatics: the engines would flame-out from fuel starvation after 15 seconds of inverted flight. You counted one-two-three-four-fifteen ! P2 Willis was my instructor throughout. Sadly, he wasn't to last long.

Following Chugalug's tip to a link which has given me Pilot's Notes (up to 1970), I find that by then Intentional Spinning had been forbidden, and I'm not surprised, for it was only allowed dual at Driffield in my time, or it would have bumped up the casualty rate quite a bit IMHO. It was quite an interesting experience to try once - (but only once !)

The trouble was that the Meteor would't stall cleanly, but "mushed" (not at all unlike a VV) as the stall came near. The answer was to catch it unawares with a sudden flick-stall about 10 kts above stall speed, and then keep in-stall control applied and hang on for dear life. "A rough ride can be expected", said the P.N.s of my day, and they weren't kidding.

It cut loose like a bucking bronco in a rodeo, and I defy anyone to recall what happened in the next few seconds. The nose went flick-rolling all over land, sea and sky, you hung on grimly, and waited for it to do something - anything - you could get a handle on. After a seeming eternity, the nose awkwardly dropped into a spin of sorts. But it didn't like it one bit, if you didn't hold it in tight it would wriggle out into an untidy spiral dive. After the first lesson, most people were content to leave spins to the birds. Willis (who would get one session per stude per course) told me that no two spins were ever alike - not even from that same T7 he'd spun only an hour before.

I don't remember spins ever doing us actual harm, but asymmetic training for landing was a different matter. The original policy was to flame-out one engine for the exercise, rather than just pull it back to idle. The theory was that Bloggs would be more highly motivated to succeed if his safety net were taken away; he would give of his best; it would be "more realistic". The trouble was that sometimes his best just wasn't good enough, and it got all too "realistic". Accidents increased exponentially.

Mercifully (and before I came on the scene), a statistician in Air Ministry totalled the accident rate (per 10,000 hrs) from this cause alone, and was astounded to find that it exceeded the failure rate of the Derwent engine over a similar period. Therefore, if we cancelled this training, and simply accepted that everyone who had an engine failure would crash, we would still be better off than under the current policy. This was a ridiculous state of affairs, and the common-sense decision was taken at last: asymmetric training would take place with one engine idling at 8,000 rpm. The "safety-net" was restored and the accident rate dropped.

This did not make the T7 any easier a proposition with one "out", when the speed dropped below 170 kt, with wheels and flap down. As the engines were so widely spaced, anything like full power on the live engine produced a savage yaw, far more than could be trimmed out. Sheer leg-power had to fill this gap, and some people are more muscular than others.

A veritable Samson might hold it straight at 125 kt with 14,100 (enough to climb away from the threshold on a missed approach), but for ordinary mortals the rule was: "Never let the speed drop below 150 until the landing is absolutely 'in the bag' ". Slower than that, you were absolutely committed: any attempt to open up and "go around" and the thing would overpower you and yaw/roll into the deck. (Of course, we are talking about "real" cases here: in practices you would smartly open up the "dead" engine as soon as doubt crept in).

I've been re-reading my log carefully of late, for my memory of the end of my Course is rather fuzzy. I flew from 6th to 28th February. Over those 23 days I actually flew on only 11 (weather ?) On one of them I flew 4 times, on three occasions 3 times, and on two twice in a day. It was certainly a "short" and intensive Course !

Did I finish it before Fate took a hand ? I've always believed so, but now I'm not so sure. On or around 29th I went down with a violent fever. It felt very like malaria to me, but the M.O.s (who had both served in the Tropics in WW2) did not think so, and I must admit that the hallmark of true malaria (the way the "shakes" recur at almost exactly 48-hour intervals) was absent. But they did not know what it was, so they diagnosed "PUO" (Pyrexia of Unknown Origin) - in other words, we haven't a clue. Keep him in SSQ.

While I was in there, I was told that P2 Willis had taken off in a Vampire with full underwing (100-gallon) tanks. These ride very close to the ground: the story I heard was that he had started to turn too low, either a tank dropped off or he wiped it off; the inbalance put the other wingtip in and that was that. Hard luck. He'd been a good chap and an excellent instructor. I couldn't say "goodbye" to him, for before I got out of dock he was dead and buried. The curious thing is: I cannot now trace the casualty in Google, this is eerily reminiscent of the Reg Duncan affair in Burma - the death that never was.

But the medics did know what to do about me. Give him a good dollop of this new wonder stuff, Penicillin, and see what happens. What happened was that the patient made a rapid and complete recovery, but was so groggy that it was the 16th March before I was able to move on out. Missed Examination "B", of course (next chance not till September). Ah, well.

Form 414A was a bit cagey: "As a u/t Jet Pilot - 'Average' ", from which "u/t" I infer that I hadn't completed the Course, but they were happy to send me on my way regardless. Perhaps P2 Willis had put in a good word for me.

Next time my travels come to an end (at least for eighteen months). And now it only remains for me to wish you all a Happy, Fortunate and, if possible, a Prosperous New Year.

Danny42C.


Tomorrow is also a Day.

Fareastdriver
1st Jan 2013, 12:18
I remember one of the last ever Final Handling Tests in a Meteor at Oakington in 1962. The student was doing an approach with the CFI in the back doing the check. For some reason he decided to overshoot at a late stage and gunned both throttles. No 1 was running too slowly to accelerate properly so No 2 did all the work.

The radius of turn around the runway caravan was amazing. It could not have been more than a hundred yards before they were hurtling off cross wind. In the end the CFI did not penalise him because they got away with it.

The one thing the now qualified pilot remembered was the bang as the runway controller closed the caravan door behind him.

One thing I remember about the Meteor was the continuous chuntering in the cruise. More noticeable from the back; the nose seemed to swing left, right, up and down all the time. It may have been because of the T7s long nose without the weight that the NF11 and 14 had.

Fantastic rate of climb, though.

Chugalug2
1st Jan 2013, 12:45
Danny, your post seems to underline a suspicion that the RAF post war flying training appears to have been based upon the precept that any nod towards common sense safety was somehow going to undermine the aggressive spirit that had been so fundamental to its successful conduct of the war. Why should it take a statistician to work out the blindingly obvious, that deliberately shutting down a perfectly good engine while exploring the limits of maintaining control in the air was bound to lead to disaster for many an inexperienced student jet pilot?

FED, your post also reminds us of the very poor acceleration of those early turbojet engines. The MO at Cranwell always had an open window in his ground floor surgery, even in the depths of a Lincolnshire winter. Outside was his mini, key in the ignition, and engine warmed up from time to time a/r. On the first sounding of a crash alarm he would be out and away leaving his hopeful patient alone in an empty room. As the fleet there consisted of Meteor and Vampire Trainers at the time this was a frequent occurrence. ISTR that the engines had a minimum RPM for the approach to provide for a Go-Around. Unfortunately this was not always maintained by a busy and over-loaded student. I was lucky, for ours was the first course on the far more forgiving JP.

A Happy New Year to everyone who enjoys this thread, whether as author or reader.

ORAC
1st Jan 2013, 13:04
The curious thing is: I cannot now trace the casualty in Google, this is eerily reminiscent of the Reg Duncan affair in Burma - the death that never was. Danny, might be able to find details here. 3 years, 470 pages. :sad:

Air Historic Branch list of relevant publications (http://www.raf.mod.uk/ahb/publications/commpubs.cfm):

AIRCRAFT ACCIDENTS

The Price of Peace - A Catalogue of RAF Aircraft Losses Between VE-Day and the End of 1945 by Colin Cummings
Published by Nimbus Publishing
ISBN 09526619 5 0

Final Landings - A Summary of RAF Aircraft and Combat Losses 1946-1949 by Colin Cummings
Published by Nimbus Publishing
ISBN 09526619 4 2

Last Take-Off - A Record of RAF Aircraft Losses 1950 to 1953 by Colin Cummings
Published by Nimbus Publishing
ISBN 0 9526619 3 4

To Fly No More - RAF Aircraft Accidents and Write-Offs 1954-1958 by Colin Cummings
Published by Nimbus Publishing
ISBN 0 9526619 2 6

Lost to Service - A summary of accidents to RAF aircraft and losses of personnel, 1959-1996 by Colin Cummings
Published by Nimbus Publishing
ISBN 0 9526619 0 X

Fareastdriver
1st Jan 2013, 20:18
The spares pannier carried in a V Bomber bomb bay when one went on detachment generally contained the Crew Chief's bicycle

There wasn't room for the chiefy's bike in our Valiant's pannier when we left Gan for Butterworth so our chief put his in the top fuselage aft of the fuel tanks. We pilots got the inpression that the ailerons were a bit light when we were in the cruise. Not to worry, we used the autopilot which used a rate gyro to control the rate of roll.

On arrival at Butterorth we found that the bicycle had shifted and spreadeagled itself over the aileron Q feel cans therebye leaving us with only spring feel which was why they were so light.

Very apologetic crew chief; didn't bother to follow it up.

wilyflier
1st Jan 2013, 22:48
Danny 42 c
What year was all that? I remember waiting for take off and seeing a Vampire do what you described
Pressure was on to expand our defense and I for one thought I might not live to the end of the course.
I was suitably humbled as we all were by the sight of a Queen Mary parked outside the classrooms wit the wreck of a Vamp or Meatbox,... a fresh one every week.
The Meteor certainly gave excellent grounding for any sort of assymetric flying in later life on big aircraft
Having bollocked me the Wingo Flying took me up to show me how when id had a bit of difficulty .
(I had had to go around on one,low on fuel, having forgotten to put the gear down they shot red vereys at me and I didnt see the red uc lights cos it wasnt even selected! )
He was very kind,and explained a lot including the scars on his arm from a Mosquito propeller when he was forced to put it down on one. I realised now how to give it the boot and lock my leg.
I was congratulated, passed out and sent off on leave
Just before I exited the main gate I heard a screech from the runway as a Meteor ground to a stop on its belly
'Twas the Wingco and the Stn C.O.on a mutual training flight,... forgot the wheels
Others werent so lucky with their bollockings.One chap was picked on taxying back from outside the far end towing bits of fencewire; He then made the mistake of telling the Wingo that he thought it was not so bad because he had already done the same in the morning and nobody said anything to him

Taphappy
1st Jan 2013, 23:21
Danny

The aircraft losses which you describe on the Meteor training were surely unacceptable but I do not remember any great publicity at the time. Was it not ever thus so far as training establishments were concerned?. I do not know whether any statistics have been compiled regarding training accidents during WW2 but it was not unknown for less than than half a course to survive OTU. It would not have been good for morale to disclose these facts which is why they were not disclosed.
After your experiences at Driffield I would have thought that you had used up your nine lives and it was time to fly a desk. I know i would but you are obviously made of sterner stuff. Happy New Year and lang mae yer lum reek.

Danny42C
2nd Jan 2013, 00:05
Fareastdriver,

There was a famous case at Gaydon (?) in the early days of the Vulcan. In a worst-case asymmetric landing exercise (the two out on one side had been idling a while), the student was making a piggies of it. The instructor took it back (rather late) and whacked all four open.

The thing dived off onto the grass, put a wingtip in, whipped round, wiped off the mains, and carried on backwards at ton-up-plus on its belly towards the Tower (Alarm and Despondency in ATC). Before getting there, it rode roughshod over the Flying Wing carpark, finally knocking a sizeable chunk out of a corner of the Tower (where the loos are) and coming to rest.

The only casualty was a passing airman, who was running for his life. Looking over his shoulder as he ran, he went slap into a brick wall (his injuries were not life-threatening). The car-park was a sad sight (I think Air Clues or whatever printed a photo).

All about 18" high, but you could read the number and maker's logos still. (It was reminiscent of the sad bales of scrap coming out of a car crusher: quite often the front number plate is visible still: a sad last reproach to the owner whom the car had served so faithfully, but who had now consigned it to this cruel fate).

I heard that the RAF paid compensation on a new-for-old basis on condition that everybody kept his mouth shut. (It would have made quite an insurance claim, wouldn't it ? - ("there was this V-bomber.....)

Having said that, your chaps were very lucky. Once an asymmetric T7 had got the bit between its teeth, there was generally no way back. The Caravan Corporal would have done better to dive underneath the van. I wouldn't have bothered with the door ! Concur exactly with you about the aircraft - it's the behaviour I described as the "wooly" feel......D.

P.S. (Your bike story - Oops !)


Chugalug,

Yes, we do seem to have had a cavalier disregard for human life in those days. I think our all ex-war Senior officers were still in wartime mode: there were always more Prunes where this one had come from. (C'ést la guerre). Bloggs replaced Prune, but the thinking didn't change. This was hard luck on Bloggs, but that was how it was.

Yes the JP looked a nice little aeroplane, and, as we've always said, "If it looks right, it'll fly right". Never had a ride in one, but think it would be something like a Vampire, which was very nice.........D.

ORAC,

Thank you very much for the time and trouble you must have taken in this research on my behalf. But it looks as if money is involved, and I'm a paid-up member of the Scrooge, Fagin & Shylock club. Myself, I'm quite certain the chap was killed - I certainly hadn't dreamed it - but was just strange that I couldn't trace a record........D.

All the best for the New Year, and thank you for the kind words about my tale,

Danny.


P.S.

wilyflier,

Feb - March 1950. They were exciting times (looking back on them). Then they were just terrifying !

Danny.

P.S. II

Taphappy,

As I've said to Chugalug, it all sounds unbelievable now, but that was how it was then. I would guess it would be the early '60s before public opinion at last forced the RAF to pay more than lipservice to Flight Safety.

Sterner stuff ? No, just luckier stuff, Taphappy. Will keep lum reeking as lang as possible. Roll on this fracking business ! - pension may run to a few more cu. m. of gas then.

Happy New Year to our latecomers, as well.

Danny.

ScouseFlyer
2nd Jan 2013, 13:54
Danny

Mind is not playing tricks-the National Memorial Arboretum shows a Reginal Marshall Willis being killed at Driffield on the 17th October 1950.He is now buried at Ferryhill Cemetery Co Durham.

SF

Danny42C
2nd Jan 2013, 16:40
ScouseFlyer,

This is incredible. The fact and place of Willis's death are confirmed, But 17th October 1950 !

How could my memory have led me so far astray ? I am still positive that the news came to me before I left Driffield on 13th March 1950, and while I was in SSQ there. In October I was flying Vampires on 20 Sqdn at Valley, miles away.

And when did wilyflier (#3341) witness the similar incident at Driffeld ?

Could there have been any possibility of an error in the dates at the Arboretum ?

Whatever the outcome, my sincere thanks for the information,

Danny (an ex-Scouser, too !)

Danny42C
2nd Jan 2013, 21:04
Next stop, HQ 12 Group (Newton). This was not encouraging, normally I would have expected to be posted directly on to my Squadron. And (let's face it) 12 Group was the "B" team of Fighter Command. I sensed a slight uncertainty: as in so many times before: they had got me, but didn't know quite what to do with me.

From the record, it seems that they pondered for 13 days (during which I took the opportunity to do some skating in Nottingham), and then put me on the train to 20 Squadron at Valley. This involved a very awkward cross-country journey with many changes, culminating in two ancient coaches pushed by a 0-6-0 "Terrier", which clanked through Stevenson's century old iron box tunnel bridge * over the Menai Strait into Anglesey - and on to Valley.

* Burned down (accidently, it was thought) a few years later. The most popular theory was that a fire had been started inside the tunnel (merely to warm themselves) by some old tramps, or a bunch of "Just William" lads, the inch-thick lining of dry soot (accumulated over a century) ignited. It blazed for hours, until the old wrought-iron plates and rivets softened and the whole lot fell into the Strait. I believe the huge old masonry supports still carry the new road/rail bridge built to replace it.

(Wiki tells a different (and no doubt correct) version of what happened, but I have not corrected my account).

Why "Valley"? It isn't a Welsh name.* In this most Welsh corner of Wales, all the villages had Welsh names. The best known of all is "Llanfair P.G." in Anglesey, when spelled out in full is the longest place name in the U.K. - it goes the full length of the station platform. Valley isn't in a valley. For that matter, there aren't any valleys worthy of the name in Anglesey, nor any hills either if you count out Holyhead mountain.

* EDIT: Oh, yes it is - "Y Fali". Why was it anglicised when all the villages around were not ? Don't know. D.

I have always believed that Valley had been a Coastal Command station, an airfield built in WW2 between village and sea (Caernarvon Bay). It was a typical Nissen hut affair, which you would have thought would have been abandoned post-war like so many others. But Valley had been found to have an unique attribute. In the autumn nights of radiation fog, which in those days might close down every other airfiield in the land, Valley could be relied upon to remain open.

This single meteorological quirk made it too valuable as a diversion airfield to lose. It's still there, now home to to the RAF's "Hawk" Advanced Flying School (and also to an Air/Sea Rescue helicopter detachment, much in the current news on account of one of its pilots - Flt.Lt. William Wales).

Now I learn from Wiki that it was actually a fighter station during the war; based on it a number of squadrons had defended Liverpool and West Lancashire with considerable success by day and night.. The USAAC also used it as a ferry staging post for their replacements at the end of their Atlantic crossings (this may help to explain a later episode in my tale) . You learn something every day !

Wide open to all the westerly gales off the Irish sea, it was a bleak, wet and windy place. We said: "If you can see the hills (Snowdonia), it's going to rain - if you can't see them, it is raining !" The windsock rarely dropped below the horizontal. We lived in wartime discomfort with our coke stoves in the old Nissen huts, with a Nissen-hutted Mess and draughty Nissen hut communal ablutions. (All very different now, I suppose).

20 Squadron had been there since the summer of '49, I arrived in March '50. We were the only "lodgers" on the Station, commanded by a W/Cdr J.E.T. Haile. Between the Wars, No. 20 had been a dedicated Army Co-operation Squadron, spending most of its time out in India. Centrepiece of the Mess silver was a farewell gift from our old Indian Canteen Contractor. This was a richly ornamented silver urn - at least as big as, and more ornate than the F.A. Cup. (Another item - a silver ashtray - came from a certain F/O B.E. Embry, who was destined for greater things).

The Cup showed what a fortune the Contractor must have made out of us over the years (for he would have done the catering for all the Messes). "Gratitude is the lively expectation of favours to come", said that old cynic La Rochefoucald. The Squadron might well come back to India one day (Independence was still eighteen years away). They would need a Canteen Contractor again.

More about the Squadron next time,

'Night, all,

Danny42C.


Home, sweet Home.

ScouseFlyer
2nd Jan 2013, 22:29
Danny

Although a possibility it is unlikely the date is wrong.The only other time I have had cause to use the Arboretum site it proved correct.Strangely that was to track down the date of the death of my uncle's best friend who died in a Meteor T7 as an instructor in 1955 at Gamston,then a satellite for Worksop.He fell victim to a botched assymetric overshoot(simulated engine failure)by his student.
The bare bones of Driffield are still there as I frequently fly over it in my Cessna 150 but diminish year by year.Used to be part of The Defence School of Transport based at Leconfield down the road but that may have changed.
Yes I too feel a bit like an "honorary" scouser not having been "home" in over 30yrs!!

SF

wilyflier
3rd Jan 2013, 12:33
Dans4c
49/50?
I note your query about rapid descents, which I quite often did. Two minutes from 40 grand, bucking against compressibility, but you had to have finished the landing wthin the next 2 or 3 mins or it was another 5 in IFR !!
I did one of those express descents once at Driffield ready to pop straight through a layer of stratus but luckily changed my mind when I saw treetops peeping up through the cloud layer
I had a Mark8 bucking at .84 once trying to dive past a trio of B47s (on their way to Russia ?)
I caught up but couldnt pass
'Twas quite funny really . I saw a distant vapour trail in the clear blue and chased the bogie for 70 miles or so. As i got nearer I saw it was 3 B47s in tight vic. There was a strict notice out warning us away from any B47 presumably something very special
I dropped between the contrails and crept right up to the leader unseen from the 2 hidden wingmen .
I was flat out probably .82 ...when I felt an uncanny itch on the back of my head (truly).........
So when i looked round there was one of the wingmen right up MY own arse .Thats when I tried to overtake by diving, but they got away
The Cold War pressure was really on then 10-12 hours training on jets , then a bit of gunnery ;and into no.1 Squadron with live ammunition standby scrambles. In 1955 I spent a couple of weeks in Nocton Hall hospital ,next to a senior officer with back compression from a bounced wheels up landing in a Hunter.(him not me)
He explained about the fear of Russia and the necessarily foreshortened training

We began to get Sabres from USA/Canada to improve interception capability( I brought several across the Pond myself, ... (the same endurance as the Meteor}

I didnt rate the Sabre as good as the Meteor for intercepting incoming bombers, would probably pass the inbound bombers a while halfway up the climb ,and have to turn and chase them all the way back to the coast before catching up. The Meteors could climb to height and meet them head on some 70 miles offshore( ( one attack pass only, easier than a quarter attack, but it had to be good!!)

I know the bosses did care about safety in training, (and all our flying was training for the real thing)
because I was called in for a chat a couple of times myself for getting 50 and 60 % hits on the drogue.
Or for a camera gun shot of a Fortress port inner engine filling the screen ; and even a bollocking for wasting an expensive towed target glider with its acoustic' hit' recorder at gunnery school, by shooting it so it fell to bits and crashed.
That lamp seems to start swinging with a life of its own, and it is teatime

wilyflier
3rd Jan 2013, 16:37
Catch up on Harvard engine failures post 3130
There were a number of unexplained engine faiiures during the post war decade. I had two of them,
Some time after 1956 I read an RAF report explaining a mod to prevent slack linkage off setting the fuel cock from "Both" to an effective "Half" , thus starving the engine when full throttle was called for
My first was under training at Feltwell when dive bombing at the bombing range. Force landed on a gentle downhill slope and finished in the next field " Congratulations Wilyflier, how did you mange to get into that tiny field?
But black mark because "we cant find anything wrong so you must have mishandled the engine."
But it was a mystery, so no courtmartial
Second was years later at Tangmere when I caused delay to a big wing take off because i insisted on the longest runway (Well of course I insisted , a previous F700 entry was...Aircraft recovered from beach after unexplained engine stoppage, Ground tested and found serviceable!!) Got up to 50 ft and it happened again. Nobody took much notice, as the big wing continued in some confusion because the wing leaders R/T was stuck on Transmit

Tea time again

goofer3
3rd Jan 2013, 21:30
Regarding Vampire crashes, on the 8th March, 1950, at Driffield, I have Vampire F3, VF276 of 203 AFS. Lost wing tank on take-off, stalled and crashed.
Unfortunately I don't have any aircrew details to go with it as yet.

Edited to amend month.

papajuliet
3rd Jan 2013, 22:27
The book " Last Take Off" reports Pilot IV Peter James Martin 20 as pilot of VF276.On take off the starboard long range drop tank came off and the aircraft climbed steeply. The port wing then dropped and the aircraft slipped into the ground from about 60 feet.

Danny42C
4th Jan 2013, 00:35
ORAC, ScouseFlier, wilyflier, goofer3, and papajuliet,

Light seems to have dawned at last. It would seem that poor Martin was killed in Driffield on 8th March '50, but the death was mistakenly reported to me (in SSQ) as that of Willis.

I would think this impossible, were it not for the fact that it had happened to me before (read my #2667 p.134). A chap called Tony Davies was killed on 110 Sqdn in Burma; the death was widely reported (and believed to be), that of a Reg Duncan, whom I knew well. (Peter C. Smith, in "Vengeance!" - 1986 - Airlife Publishing Ltd.) was deceived, too).

Coincidentally, Willis was killed at Driffield on 17 October '50.

If there is another explanation, I should be grateful to hear it,

Thank you all for help and interest,

Danny42C.

goofer3
4th Jan 2013, 06:18
On the 17th October, 1950, 2 F.1 Vampires, VF270 and VF308 of 203 AFS collided near Driffield. 1 killed in each aircraft.

Arclite01
4th Jan 2013, 08:31
Off track............I'm reading 'Flying at the Edge: 20 Years of Front-Line and Display Flying in the Cold War Era' by Tony Doyle

It's a great read - and he certainly seems to verify the losses in early Meteor training in the 50's that Danny mentions..................

On track again.................


Arc

Chugalug2
5th Jan 2013, 13:05
It is virtually impossible to be off track here, Arclite. The charm of this thread is that it can meander as it pleases, such as with many of the conversations spent relaxing in our virtual Ante Room following a good meal and with a glass of one's favourite tipple to hand. The number of members similarly engaged is a joy to behold, but perhaps we need to start thinking of planning an extension to our Nissen Hut that Danny consigned us to so many posts ago. Now that we are in a post war RAF, any chance of us moving back into more salubrious accommodation Danny, or is it good for our souls to make do and keep feeding the coke stove?
Is it not proof also that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, when so much dotting of i's and crossing of t's can correct duff gen that has been with one for decades? I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that I've learnt so much from the posts of Danny and others, not simply new knowledge but also the correcting of misunderstandings of decades.
So keep meandering one and all, for it has always been the "by the way" and "not a lot of people know this but..." asides that add to the vitality of this, the best thread on PPRuNe!

Fareastdriver
5th Jan 2013, 15:01
Nissen-hutted Mess and draughty Nissen hut communal ablutions. (All very different now, I suppose

It certainly has. IIRC in 1960 the new Officer's Mess was built. There was still not a lot of confidence in Valley's long term future so it was built in such a style that it could be readily used as a hotel. This, of course, has not yet happened.

Those that remember Middleton St George may well know that the officer's mess was converted into an excellent establishment complete with en-suite facilities. Visiting air hostesses overnighting at the now Teeside Airport could be easily terrorised by telling them about the ghost of the Meteor pilot who speared into the building; with some advantage.

Danny42C
5th Jan 2013, 16:28
To Friends and Foes Alike,

Stop Press. Laptop acting v. strangely; died twice in last few hours, brought back to life each time by scruff of neck using battery out & in procedure. If third time unlucky, must go back to Well Known Catalogue Store (thank Lord I shelled out for 3-year Warranty).

Last year this happened, away for a month, said needed new hard drive (all on strike in Guandung province, then ?)

Worry not, may disappear without warning. (Like Captain Oates, may be away some time). Will be back ASAP.

Danny42C.

PS: Ruddy battery in hearing aid going out - if it isn't one damn' thing it's another !

Danny42C
5th Jan 2013, 17:20
So what would be the nature of the "co-operation" that 20 Squadron had provided for the Army in India? Essentially the age-old Frontier duty: "Subduing the Tribes". This sounds barbarous, but was really quite a gentlemany procedure.

From time immemorial, the hill tribes on the NW frontier of present day Pakistan had plagued the plains villages below, raping and pillaging, plundering livestock and grain stores and generally making nuisances of themselves. They were a constant thorn in the side of the Raj, which generally came off second-best when it went into the hills after them, but was able to contain them in their fastnesses, as we controlled the plains.

The arrival of the aeroplane altered the balance of power. An aircraft would fly over the tribal village responsible and drop leaflets saying: "We are coming over next Thursday afternoon to knock the place down". This gave them ample time to move people, livestock, charpoys, food stores, tools and possessions over to the next hilltop on the appointed day.

Then a flight of Wapities or Harts would come over and drop a lot of small bombs to do a good deal of damage. No blood would be lost, the villagers still had all the means to resume daily life, but the menfolk had to turn to and rebuild their houses. This was too much like hard work; the message got home that they had better behave themselves in future.

I cannot vouch for any of this, for it was all related to me by a Very Old India Hand I met on the boat home. What I do know is that a very similar policy was adopted in Mesopotamia (aka Irak), when we held the League of Nations mandate to administer that former province of the Ottoman Empire for thirteen (?) years in the twenties and thirties after WW1. Moreover, it was more efficient, and cheaper than sending in punitive expeditions, and the Treasury loved that.

(Back to Valley at last!)

"RE-VEILLE" (Punning title of the Valley Station Magazine).

"AVE ATQUE VALE" (Even worse pun - title of the last issue on disbandment in September 1951).

I got off at Valley station (which seemed a reasonable thing to do), and rang the SDO for transport.. There was the usual argey-bargey; I should have gone on to Holyhead (4 miles), left my heavy kit in the Left-Luggage there, and taken the bus back to RAF Valley.

This was an argument which I was well used to having; I kept it up till I'd worn him down, and he reluctantly signed the 658 (was it ?) and dug out the Duty Driver. (I bought the SDO a beer when I got in, so we parted the best of friends).

Now we must consider No. 20 (Army Co-operation) Squadron in some detail. To begin with, I think it was in Fighter Command only because it used fighter aircraft: a Beaufighter TT, Spitfires XVI and Vampires III (no surprise there then: I was not to touch a Meteor for the next four years). The Station had a Harvard and a very useful Tiger Moth. 20 Sqdn. cannot have been high on the Fighter Command Order of Battle, for it could not fight Pussy. Our guns had been taken out, we were toothless tigers.

We "co-operated" with the Army in a few simple ways: The Beau towed targets in Cardigan Bay for AA gunnery practice at Tonfanau (Nr Towyn, midway between Barmouth and Aberdovey). The Spitfires were also targets there, but by an ingenious method which I shall explain later, suffered no harm, and they did mock LL attacks on Bofors guns near Barmouth. The Vampires were high-level calibration aircraft for a R.A. experimental gun-laying radar unit at Ty-Croes, a few miles down on the coast, not far from Valley.

We were pretty busy during the summer, when the Territorials had their Summer Camps (and I think that a large part of the Army's AA was Territorial); in the quieter months we were free to do a bit of aeros, formation and tail-chasing with the Spitfires and Vampires. But there was never any serious attempt at Valley to refresh any "fighter" skills we might once have had. A couple of us went on a Gunnery course at 226 OCU (Stradishall) in April, '51, but that was all. It was difficult to avoid the impression that Fighter Command had lost any interest it might ever have had in us.

Will expand on this next time (whenever that may be),

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


Never mind.

Geriaviator
6th Jan 2013, 14:10
https://cimg6.ibsrv.net/gimg/pprune.org-vbulletin/930x653/14_onthemainplane_757d086808dc7292f32ec39604187777a9936505.j pg
In early 1940 Flying Off Taylor was detailed to do a flypast for Press photographers. He flew so low that the assembled party threw themselves flat and didn’t get any photos, while he continued through a tree at the far end. Inspecting the damage to the wing, with a branch driven back into the main spar, are D. A. “Dandy” MacLean, my father and Sgt. Clarke. MacLean was killed on the night I was born: see post 3286 dated December 16.


http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/17_crane3_zpsf72e76c8.jpg

The Coles crane, apparently with civil registration, positions to lift the damaged mainplane. Note the 250lb bombs on the bomb dolly in front of crane, bombs that would be bravely but vainly delivered to the advancing Wehrmacht. Branches were used as camouflage.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/15_Crane1_zps24a2608b.jpg

Fareastdriver
7th Jan 2013, 18:17
Has anybody got a spare laptop?

Danny42C
7th Jan 2013, 19:49
Fareastdriver,

Laptop now behaving itself (possibly case of "fog in cockpit") - daughter has an old one, may be able to resuscitate if worst comes to worst. Hold off deluge of old laptops TFN, please. But thanks for effort on my behalf.......D.


Geriaviator,

More wonderful pics ! These must be preserved for posterity. (Re subject - one more proof that the RAF was never short of idiots). Pic would do well in Caption Competition (starter: "What made that 'ole ?".........."Mice" - from Old Bill). Nice Christmas card.........D.


Chugalug,

Heartily second your advice to Arclite01. Join our Club !....'Fraid it'll be hard lying for quite a while yet, tho' in next place will graduate into centrally heated rabbit hutch in a Laing hut. Then no more coke stoves ( MQs excepted)...........D.


Wilyflier,

Am lost in admiration ! 50% hits on the flag (knock the "0" off and you've got five times the best I ever did), and a glider target, too ! You must have been the Ace of the Base, and no mistake.

Seriously, "My first was under training at Feltwell while dive bombing at the bombing range" - we are in dire need of new blood on this our Thread. Please let's have some more of your experiences in print here. I'm sure the Moderators would welcome you, as would we all........D.

Regards to all my wellwishers,

Danny.

glojo
7th Jan 2013, 20:14
Don't forget that if ANYONE has any badly damaged old photographs then just remember there are folks on this forum that will probably restore them for you.

These wonderful images need to be preserved.



http://i1258.photobucket.com/albums/ii527/glojoh/Cameronia-1c_zps9e41e155.jpg

For the youngsters that were not around when brave men needed to be transported across the World to fight on foreign shores, this was the typical means of transport.


The right hand image is just one of the few my father kept of the ships he served on. My father was in the Royal Navy but attached to the Merchant Navy and served on what was defined as 'Defensively Equipped Merchant Ships.


The image on the left is this sailor's effort at repairing the damage and I am positive folks here could do a better job.


I am NOT talking about repairing this specific picture, I am talking about pictures we might have that belonged to those that served King and Country and now might be in need of some tender loving care.

Apologies for the interruption and may I wish all the contributors to this EXCELLENT thread a HAPPY and prosperous New Year :ok:

Danny42C
7th Jan 2013, 23:49
The plain fact was that 20 Squadron was an anomaly in Fighter Command, and in the nature of things it tended to attract anomalous people. It would be unfair to characterise it as the "sin-bin" of the Command, but perhaps a better description of us might be as the "Awkward Squad" of that organisation. One or two examples will give the flavour of the whole.

M. was in dispute with his ex-wife's solicitor over some payment of alimony. In exasperation, he (M) made up the whole of the sum demanded in coin, put it in a barrel of treacle and sent it to the solicitor. He naturally refused to accept the payment in this form, and I do not know what happened in the end - nor what became of the treacle - but the case reached the local Press. By ill luck the story got to their Airships; another young man saw a bright career fall even further behind him.

This M was (very unusually) a man of some modest wealth. His wheels were a Green Label Bentley Open Tourer of the mid thirties. This would be worth a king's ransom today, of course, and even then it would not be as cheap as all that to pick one up (perhaps £2-300 - and a F/O had to make do on £30 per month). It was in well-worn state, and it would have been hopeless to put his meagre petrol ration into the vast tank, as he would lose the lot to rust and evaporation.

Accordingly he set up a jury-rig arrangement with lemonade bottles and rubber tubes to gravity-feed the huge float chambers. Extra full bottles were carried under the rear seat to ensure return to base. The other members of the Squadron would contribute perhaps half-a-gallon each (garages in those days were quite accustomed to such a request) to fill a bottle or two. In return, the whole lot of us could be squeezed into the huge boat of a body for the trip to the pub du jour.

Nor was this the last off his services to the community. In this most Welsh-speaking part of the whole Principality, all our Mess staff and the civilian employees on the Station spoke it exclusively among themselves, absolutely confident that we couldn't understand a word. And, of all the people whom they might suspect, M, this public-school, cut-glass accented officer (a perfect Sloane Ranger before his time) was the very last.

But the family seat was near Wrexham; in his childhood years he'd had a Welsh nanny, who'd cooed, babbled and sung to him, and told him countless stories in her mother tongue. Although his spoken Welsh was mostly gone now, he could still make sense of 99% of what was being said. This was of enormous value to us. No wartime secret was more tightly guarded, to the very end it was, I believe, kept from the natives. In this way we learned a lot of things we weren't supposed to hear (truly, "no man is a hero to his valet !" ).

S. had been in the Fleet Air Arm. In a Seafire, he was landing-on a carrier (hook stowed away ??) He contrived to bounce and float over all the wires and the barrier (the Angled Deck was waiting to be invented). There were two parked Seafires on the far side of the barrier. The day ended with S. winning 3-0 (he didn't get a scratch).

Their Lordships intimated that he might seek his fortune elsewhere. Nothing daunted, he trotted round to Adastral House. They took him on (things like that happened in those days). I must say that he bent no more Spitfires with us: on the contrary he put up a Good Show with one, which I shall describe later.

Then there were those, like me, who were simply too far outside the age/rank/seniority "box" to fit comfortably in a fighter squadron, and so were banished to odd-jobs on the periphery of the Command. To the best of my knowledge and belief, none of the 20 Sqdn alumni got past W/Cdr (only one or two made it: one was the chap who'd gone out, got himself a degree at public expense to "resettle" in civil life, then used it to get a PC back in the RAF - nice one !) Our Boss, Alex Hindley, did best of all. He made W/Cdr, resigned, went out to India and started some sort of an import agency for aircraft, and grew very, very rich.

Now I had better resume my story. As in my early training days, so now it was a great relief to get onto your Squadron, whatever and wherever that was. Now you belonged somewhere - you had an RAF "fixed address" at last; your post and laundry might (with any luck) catch up with you. As so often, the more Spartan the surroundings, the nicer the people

Laptop still firing on all four. Goodnight, chaps,

Danny42C.


Ground tested and found servicable.

Chugalug2
8th Jan 2013, 08:59
Danny:

As so often, the more Spartan the surroundings, the nicer the people
Now ain't that the truth! Some of my happiest memories hark back to Attap roofed Messes or Seco hutted "temporary" accomodation. The notion also extends to aircraft as well. The Hastings was very much an "after the Lord Mayor's Show" type vehicle, prestige wise. Others in the MRT fleet were newer and/or bigger, and the LRT fleet looked down on us all with equal and distant disdain. Sort of the Ronnie Corbett end of the John Clease and two Ronnies sketch ("I know my place..."), but the Squadron worked hard and played hard and I wouldn't have swapped it for the world.
Sounds like you had a similar set up in 20 Squadron, Danny, with some of the larger than life characters that abounded in the RAF of those days.
As regards the laptop, might I suggest giving it a good talking to? You have to be cruel to be kind you know...

airborne_artist
8th Jan 2013, 09:38
Seco hutted "temporary" accomodationRN EFTS pukes at Leeming lived in the Seco huts until HRH Duke of York arrived in 1980, when they moved into the OM ;)

Fareastdriver
8th Jan 2013, 13:52
RN EFTS pukes at Leeming lived in the Seco huts

Quite right too. They didn't join the Services to live and work in proper buildings.

Danny42C
8th Jan 2013, 17:18
glojo,

Interrupt away to your heart's content, John ! This is what gives life to this Thread.

Speaking as one who had four troopship voyages in the war, the picture gives a good idea of how tightly packed the ships were (although I must add that this one looks as if it's coming into a quayside, and all the chaps would be coming to one side to see what was in store for them, which is why it's listing a bit - am I right ?).......D


Chugalug,

Laptop's ears already burning with language more suited to SWO on parade ground, barely refrained from actual assault & battery. Seems to have had desired effect (touch wood).

In all my previous references to "Laing", read "Seco" huts. (having seen pics on "Google" of both, and seen plenty of both, now at last know which is which).

True, chaps in our later days were never as good as the ones in the beginning, were they ? Suspect it was ever thus. Companions in adversity are always the truest. As for aircraft, you can, I think, develop an affection for anything if you fly it long enough (our instructors even got to like their Vultee BT-13s, and I was quite sorry to see the end of the VVs).........D


Fareastdriver and airborne artist,

Studes living in the Mess ? What next !.........D.


Cheers,

Danny

airborne_artist
8th Jan 2013, 17:25
Quite right too. They didn't join the Services to live and work in proper buildings.

We liked the arrangement. No grown-ups to complain about the noise after hours and a reduced accomodation charge which meant we had more to spend on beer and women (but not always in that order).

Plus the sound of freedom close-up when the tin triangles deployed from their secret base in Lincolnshire.

Danny42C
10th Jan 2013, 17:45
Of course, the younger generation were not yet coming in to the Officers' and Sergeants' Messes, although National Service airmen were no longer a novelty. We were all wartime pilots, flying (mostly) wartime aircraft and living in typical wartime conditions. The old spirit lived on, tho' it was to fade out slowly over the next years (it would be the '60s before I had a mild surprise on seeing my first S/Ldr pilot with no war ribbons under his wings). This change was inevitable, of course, but there was a tinge of regret all the same.

"Boss" was S/Ldr Alex Hindley, and you couldn't have a nicer one. The Flight Commanders were "Willie" Hewlett (also the PMC) and "Red" Dunningham. I seem to have started in "B" Flight, then tranferred to "A" Flight, but "Willie" signs as my Flt. Commander throughout. I think that "A" Flight was supposed to have the Spitfires and "B" the Vampires, but everybody seemed to be flying both types.

The lone Beau was nominally on "B" Flight, but it was the sole preserve of two refugees from Communist oppression: Master Pilots "Joe" Halkiew (Pole) and "Zed-Zed" Zmitrowitz (Czech), although the Boss and Willie (and maybe others) were checked out on it. (I'm sorry to say that I never even looked into the cockpit !)

One of "B" Flight's pilots was Niel Ker (yes, that's how he spelt it). He had been appointed to (ie lumbered with) the task of Squadron Adjutant. There was quite a lot of paperwork, and as I, an ex-Civil Servant and ex-C.O. of my own small Unit, had some experience in fighting the Good Paper Fight, I was co-opted to assist. I could fly in the mornings, while he polished the office seat, after lunch we changed over, and vice versa the following week, and of course the show kept running when one of us was on leave, and that was handy.

We got along very well in double harness. He was a former Indian Army officer who'd transferred, first into the Indian Air Force (he was actually on No.8 Sqdn, on Spit XIVs, but long after my time), and then into the RAF on Independence. Two old Sahibs, we naturally had plenty to talk about. We kept in touch through the years: he died two years ago.

The bane of our lives was the Squadron Aircraft Inventory. You might suppose that an aircraft came (Stores-wise) as one complete unit. No such luck. First you had (say) a Spitfire XVI airframe number so-an-so. This came in under its unique Stores Reference. Then came a Merlin Mk. 266 engine serial number whatever, with its own Stores Ref. We're there now ? Not a bit of it ! As cherry on the cake, we also had 24 spark plugs (God knows what Stores Ref.) to account for. Why, of all the hundreds of parts in an aero engine, this one item should be singled out, is beyond me. Perhaps it was the easiest of all to take out and get lost.

If a complete aircraft came (raise Demand Voucher on Stores) or went (raise Return Voucher), it was relatively simple, although you had to be careful to list all the serial and reference numbers correctly, and not forget the plugs, and enter all the details of the copy Voucher in the Inventory when (if) it came back from Stores . But then there were engine changes, where only the engine details needed amendment, but the plugs had to booked-out and in like everything else. And these, IIRC, could be swapped (Exchange Voucher) from Stores when they got coked-up or whatever. And copy vouchers can easily get lost, or get entered up wrongly.

You'd need a clerk of saintly assiduity to keep up with this. We had a succession of National servicemen of very variable quality. The Inventory became a nightmare. On paper, we had twin engined Spitfires with an astronomical number of plugs, a single-engined Beaufighter with none at all, and - to cap it all - one whole Spitfire went missing (on paper, at least !) It reminded me of Burma, where rumour had it that a certain W/Cdr Chater had worked the system so well that he had at his disposal a personal Harvard and a Tiger Moth that no longer (officially) existed.

Next time we're going flying again.

Goodnight, chaps,

Danny42C.


The Old Order Changeth.............

ricardian
10th Jan 2013, 18:47
The RAF store-keeping system was a mystery to me (1959-73). On one unit I had a "kit, tool, general" which was deficient of "tin-snips, watchmakers for the use of". The stores sent me an "alternative item" which was an enormous pair of bolt-croppers.

BEagle
10th Jan 2013, 19:32
The weird and wonderful ways of stackers were still holding sway some 2 decades later....

I was once told that I had to check my 'clothing card' with 'stores'. I'd no idea what a 'clothing card' was, but it was duly produced from the depths of Handbrake House and still included items lovingly entered in longhand by some old boy who'd done my initial kit issue at RAFC some 15 years earlier. I spotted an error and brought it to the attention of some civvie in a brown coat...


"Look, it says I've still got a Gnat oxygen mask and g-suit. I haven't flown a Gnat for at least 6 years and the RAF doesn't even have any Gnats nowadays - they've been scrapped. Obviously there was an error when I handed my Gnat kit back at Valley"

"Still on your charge, sir..."

So I found a friendly Flt Sgt who was a fellow member of the station gliding club. "Leave it with me, sir. I'll ring you tomorrow".

Which he did. The solution was to be handed 2 equipment labels, correctly completed, for items which didn't actually exist. But they bore the magic word 'Scrapped'.

So the next day, back I went to 'stores'.

"Here you are - I've 'found' the labels"

"No problem, sir". And a few majestic strokes of The Pen saw me liberated from the mill stone of non-existent Gnat flying clothing on my clothing card. The System had been satisified!

Fareastdriver
10th Jan 2013, 21:00
Shortly before 110 squadron disbanded in Singapore we had our oldest Whirlwind 10 force land and was damaged. It went off to the
MU at Seleter and after a couple of months I telephoned them as to its condition as I held the inventory for all the squadron's aircraft. I was told that it had been given to the Singapore Air force as a fuselage repair trainer.
I informed SCAF and after they had checked they asked me to go over and clear off the inventory. As Changi was shortly closing we had people posted in for short tours and one was this young WRAF supply officer. There then followed a long session of the Warrant Officer feeding us conversion chits as we disposed of the aircraft.
This Whirlwind was carrying an incredible amount of other squadron's equipment; possibly even a Griffon engine and a Hercules noseheel assembly. After we had finished clearing up the entire station's loose ends it was decided, despite the fact I was a hundred miles from the accident, that all my flying clothing was on it too.

It saved an awful lot of people an awful lot of trouble, including me.

ancientaviator62
11th Jan 2013, 08:25
Ah aircraft inventories ! I had the inventory of one of our Hercs when I was on 48 at Changi. I was summoned one day to the mighty paperwork empire to explain why I had 'lost' one Allison T56 engine from 'my ' aeroplane. My explanation that the a/c in question was 'down route' on a task and thus presumably had the full complement of said Allisons cut no ice with the system. My suggestion that the paoerwork could be in error was treated with derision.
The doctrine of infallibilty formerley residing in the medieval Popes had been seamlessly inherited by by these clerks.

Arclite01
11th Jan 2013, 08:27
Which reminds me of two stories one of which I was involved in and one I read............

We had a bowser which was always u/s, it went to Saudi in GW1 and lived up to expectations and was u/s most of the time. Afterwards some equipment was declared as 'surplus to requirements, not worth shipping back to UK' and to be stripped for spares and scrapped in situ. This was duely done and the carcass dumped on the scrap compound.

Guess what - 2 years later I am walking through the vehicle park at Hullavington - and I recognise a number plate !!, blow me down if somehow, someone hadn't rebuilt it and returned it to UK - why ?? - I just don't know..... some things just never go off inventory it appears. (The effort involved in rebuilding it musty have been collossal)

Second story is in 'Chickenhawk' where the Huey goes missing and every bit of missing kit on the base is on it it appears (everyone in 'Supply' using it as an opportunity to write off missing kit). One of the mechanics says he's not surprised it crashed as it must have been about 2 tons overweight !!

anyway....................back on track, come on Danny42C - lets have your next installment.

Arc

Yamagata ken
11th Jan 2013, 11:42
Thanks, as always Danny. I was taken by this:

"The lone Beau was nominally on "B" Flight, but it was the sole preserve of two refugees from Communist oppression: Master Pilots "Joe" Halkiew (Pole) and "Zed-Zed" Zmitrowitz (Czech)............"

In my teens (1960s) I had a Saturday job working on a farm. They had a labourer, a German ex-POW. I asked him why he stayed on, and he said there was "nothing to go back to". It didn't occur to me at the time to ask if he came from what became East- or West Germany. It was clear enough to this teenager, that having a roof, a job and food on the table was enough. He'd met a girl, married and settled.

Sort of rhetorical questions. How many men were like these? It can't have been purely political for the Poles and the Czechs, the physical destruction was Europe-wide. How many, called into service in their teens, had nothing to go home to? What happened to all the POWs in North America? Were they allowed to stay on?

Blacksheep
11th Jan 2013, 12:49
Your Whirlwind may have solved 100's problems Fareastdriver, but it was disposal of the Meteors of 1574TF Flight by acetylene torch that saved the bacon for Electrical Engineering Squadron (aka The Gin Palace). There was an astonishing amount of avionics equipment in these venerable old flying machines. Their inventory records suggested they were the original multi-role combat aircraft, equipped for intereception, bombing, reconnaisance and maritime patrol as well as their usual role of being shot at in the finest traditions of the Royal Navy.

They even accounted for Automatic Propellor Synchronisers (well, they DID have propellors for winding the target drogues in and out), thousands of Griffon Engine spark plugs and quite a few sonobuoys. Not to mention a Watts Datum Compass belonging to The Admiralty.



Ssshh! I said not to mention it. :oh:

Geriaviator
11th Jan 2013, 14:16
This one's for you, Danny, with many thanks and a request to please keep your priceless stories coming. I did sent the 142 Sqn in France pictures to the IWM but did not receive an acknowledgment. However, there's another souvenir of India which will end up in our local aviation museum as an example of swords being turned into ploughshares.

When this little boy joined his father at Poona/Pune in early 1946 he was delighted to meet the Vengeance but very disappointed to be refused one of the Liberators which were parked in a corner of the airfield. It beat toy cars any day, and Dad had said they were only scrap so I could not understand why this ideal plaything could not grace the front of our bungalow.

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/dixies_zpsb7c81665.jpg

In fact this piece of Liberator is still with us today. The industrious Indians cut up the Liberators, melted down the alloy and recast it in pure aluminium, which was then pressed and beaten into cooking dixies and lids for use on Primus stoves or open fires. After use the cookware would be scoured clean with sand and water. These dixies were used in India, taken home to England, used again in Aden and then put away for the past 60 years. (You never know, my parents said, they might come in handy one day.)

Pay attention kids, we had to learn these tables by heart: The cookware was assay marked with an official stamp and sold by weight, Rupees 2 Annas 2 Pice 0 per lb. From memory one rupee was worth 1s 6d (7p in today's fast-depreciating money) and there were 16 annas in the rupee. I don't remember the pice but it was somewhere below the farthing.

We also had a Liberator first-aid kit in a canvas satchel. Over the years we used the various dressings for childhood bumps and scratches, the burn cream was very effective six years later in Aden, but fortunately we did not need the useful 10 syringettes of morphine which were still in the satchel when I found it in the roofspace after my parents died 28 years later. Mum would have been horrified to see me put it in the bin ... such waste.

BEagle
11th Jan 2013, 14:58
Sort of rhetorical questions. How many men were like these?

Quite a few. In the early 1950s my late father employed several Germans ('Theo', ex-Luftwaffe was asked by our cockney foreman whether he was "One of the bleeders wot bombed arr 'ahse" - he wasn't though!). Rudi and Big Fritz often used to baby sit for some extra dosh; the only embarrassing situation being when we were watching "The Valiant Years" when the programme was about the HJ. "It vasn't like der Boy Scouts", he said, "Ve HAD to join". 'Little Fritz' I never knew (he wasn't popular with the others); he went back to Berlin but found himself on the wrong side of the wall. When we received a letter from East Germany asking for a job so that he could get out, my father informed the authorities and one day some spook turned up announced at the kitchen window for a chat....:(

The Italians were great fun. Toni, Vince, Jerry and Rene always had happy smiles. One day my father asked "Do you have Mafia in Oliveto Citra (their village)?". Poor old Toni nearly had a heart attack before muttering "Si, plenty Mafia". One of them had been a Vatican Guard; just standing around the Vatican with a pike all day, hardly very difficult. When asked why he'd given up such a cushy job, he replied "Wassa very heavy pike-a!". Jerry went down to St Merryn to help with the hay making one year and brightened up considerably when he saw the holidaymakers "Much jig-a-jig here!", he smilingly announced.

In those days (mid-to-late 1950s), down in Somerset there were lots of ex-POWs who'd stayed on to work on farms. A few romany gypsies (who were never any problem) and the odd Sikh travelling salesman. The only orientals were those who worked in the Little East restaurant in Taunton, but I don't recall having seen any people who would have been described as 'negroes' in those days, even though Jamaican immigrants had arrived in England in the late '40s. 'Racism' just didn't exist, everyone seemed to tolerate one another quite happily.

Sorry for the drift, but it was an interesting time - and neither was there any friction between the 'ex-enemy' and the RAF personnel at the aerodrome.

DFCP
11th Jan 2013, 18:09
POW,S---A North American story---a Luftwaffe POW pilot was being transferred West by train across Canada. He jumped off and made his way the short distance to Prescott Ontario where he took a small boat and crossed the St Lawrence to Ogdensburg NY
This was before the US got into the war so he was allowed to go free and made his way back to Germany via S America. I believe he went missing in a 109 over the North Sea later in the war.
In the UK in early 46 I was one of a detachment of AC2,s sent to 3 MU Milton. We lived on an ex US airfield --Grove--near Didcot- there were also German POW,s living there. All of us were taken for work at the MU by truck-- POW,s and AC2,s bouncing around in the back while the leader of the POW,s rode in style with the driver. During the day we mixed with the POW,s and there was no doubt in their minds that man for man the German soldier was superior to ours. Only unfortunate circumstances led to them losing the war.

BEagle
11th Jan 2013, 19:12
DFCP, that would be Franz von Werra.

Despite the efforts of the Canadian Government to obtain his return, and of the United States Authorities to hold him, von Werra crossed the border into Mexico. Travelling by way of Peru, Bolivia, Brazil and Spain, he reached Berlin on 18th April, 1941.

On October 25th of the same year, while on patrol, his plane was seen to dive into the sea. No trace of von Werra was found.


After his return to Germany, he was awarded the Knights Cross of the Iron Cross. But he also reported his experiences whilst in captivity, which led directly to improved standards being applied to Allied POWs.

By the time he suffered engine failure over the North Sea in his Bf 109-F4, he had achieved 21 victories, 13 of which were gained after his escape from Canada.

Danny42C
11th Jan 2013, 20:50
Yamagata Ken,

I'm afraid it was all political, Ken. Although people like Joe and Zed-Zed knew they might be living more comfortably than in their ravaged homelands, they didn't accept repatriation, much as they might have wished to go home.

They simply feared to return. In all the Soviet bloc countries, ex-prisoners of the West were politically suspect. They had been exposed to western values and were all tainted by the association. They were far from welcome, treated as pariahs, and lucky to escape imprisonment - or worse. Many had married British girls and were allowed stay in Britain, and I don't think we actually deported any who wished to remain.

Russian prisoners sent back (against their will) to Russia mainly finished in the Gulags. Regrettably, we seem to have had a hand in this forced repatriation (in Austria) but I forget details. ........................D

Blacksheep,

"Automatic Propeller Synchronisers" would do fine on a tug with two tow pylons ! Seriously, the Store-bashers were a race apart; anything could be made to disappear if it were opportune that it should do so (but I think that our elephant in Burma was a bit too much even for them).................D

Geriaviator,

There were 12 Pice to an Anna (I never saw a Pice). On my reckoning, the bowls were 3/6 each, or £7-8 today. The bazaar tinsmith would have been quite capable of beating a piece of the Lib into any shape required, but the metal would have been too thin for a cooking utensil. I suppose the old arms factories (like Dum-Dum) did the melting down and casting.
(Our parents had had to "make do and mend" all their lives). Plenty of shots in my locker still (Arclite01 to note - thanks for kind words !).

IWM should be ashamed of itself...............D.

BEagle,

Can't do better than Kipling:

"I do not love my country's foes - nor call 'em 'eroes. Still,
Where is the sense in 'ating those,
'Oom you are paid to kill ?".........D.

Thanks to you all for keeping the pot boiling,

Danny.

Union Jack
11th Jan 2013, 22:49
DFCP, that would be Franz von Werra.

The original "The One That Got Away" although some of our younger members might be more familiar with that being the title of a song by various singers .....

So far as the writing off of stores is concerned, I really can't compete with some of the preceding tales. I do recall, however, hearing the story of the young Lieutenant commanding one of the final group of post-war XE-Craft midget submarines, whose rather expensive binoculars had unfortunately gone missing without a trace.

After some deliberation, the Form S126 (Loss of Stores) submitted to the depot ship described how the boat, which had of course no fin as such, was being surfaced in a very rough sea and and an exceptionally large wave had swept the binoculars away from round the skipper's neck.

He was subsequently summoned on board the submarine depot ship to see the Captain (SM) of the squadron, and invited to expand on the circumstances of the loss:

Captain (SM): Was it a very large wave?
Skipper: Oh yes, Sir - a very large wave.
Captain (SM): Was it a very, very large wave?
Skipper: Oh yes, Sir - a very, very large wave?
Captain (SM): Was it definitely one of the largest waves you've ever seen?
Skipper: Oh yes, Sir - definitely one of the largest waves I've ever seen .
Captain (SM): Well, X, for once I really have to agree with you. It must have been a really enormous wave - it washed your bloody binoculars right into the depot ship wardroom! :=

Jack

lasernigel
12th Jan 2013, 09:28
Sort of rhetorical questions. How many men were like these?

Sorry Danny 42C, slightly off thread again.
I was in the ATC living in Blackpool as a kid, I went to school with a lot of first generation Polish kids. The band Sqn 2354 based at Layton was run by a guy Wing Commander "Bob" Turaek (sp?), he was an ex WW2 Spitfire pilot who stayed on at the end of the war. From memory he said he had flown post war, Meteors, Vampires, Venoms and Javelins. Some of you here might recognise his name. One of his sons who was in the ATC with me wanted to be a fighter pilot like "his Dad", unfortunately he was about 6ft 6in, so apparently with bone dome wouldn't fit in to a modern day fighter (early '70's presume). He ended up in Transport Command I think flying Hercs.

Apologies again back to you Danny 42C.:ok:

JOE-FBS
12th Jan 2013, 09:31
Project Propellor 2013

For those who have not heard of it, Project Propeller is an annual reunion for 150+ WWII aircrew, to which they are flown from all over the UK in light aircraft by current volunteer pilots. Full details of how to take part are on the website.

Project Propeller (http://www.projectpropeller.co.uk/)

Danny42C
12th Jan 2013, 14:51
Union Jack,

Marvellous story ! - "Collapse of Stout Party" (as Victorian "Punch" used to say)........D.

Lasernigel,

No direct connection, but two odd coincidences: I was at St.Joseph's College, Layton Mount, before the war. Was the old place still there in your day ?........and, I have a relative living in, Toorak, Victoria, Australia. Could be a Polish name.

Don't apologise - butt in all you like !.........D.

JOE-FBS,

Project Propeller is a wonderful idea. They have 150+ WWII aircrew, they say. Might some of them be persuaded to come in here and lend us a hand ?...........D.

Thank you all, chaps, (bit more story tonight)

Danny.

lasernigel
12th Jan 2013, 15:12
Was the old place still there in your day ?...

"Holy Joes" as it was affectionately known in the '60's. Always the odd scrap between us lowly people at Claremont Sec Mod.:ok:

A school Sqn formed at our school as well (2454), that was run by a teacher/Ex RAF guy called Wing Commander McGarry. His claim to fame was being on the episode of This is your Life for teaching John Inman who went to our school.
My Dad and another teacher Bob Sanderson, who taught at Claremont were in 177 Sqn based at Squires Gate pre war, as was my Uncle Fred who I mentioned before was killed as a Sgt pilot in Burma.

Danny42C
12th Jan 2013, 15:57
Besides struggling with all the paperwork, we did fly from time to time ! The Spitfires (XVI) were old friends, of course, and I was very keen to get into the Vampires (Mk.III). No longer could I sneer at "kiddiecarts"; and as the T11 had not come along yet, it was a case of read the Pilot's Notes, climb in and off you go. This I did on 31st March, after they'd had some innocent fun with me some days earlier by checking me out on, and sending me off on a sector recce, in the Tiger (of all things) - which I'd never flown before in my life ! (Full report to follow).

I took to the Vampire like a duck to water. It was a delightful little aircraft, very easy to handle with sweet, well harmonised controls, and fantasic cockpit visibility. A big tear-drop perspex canopy replaced the prison bars of the T7; now we were pressurised and I could swan around at 30,000 plus without a hot, sweaty, rubbery oxygen mask clamped onto my chops all the time.

Of course, it wasn't the "ball-of-fire" that the Meteor had been, its rate-of-climb was less than half that of the T7 (I was told that a good Griffon Spitfire could out-climb it). But it had much more range and endurance than the Meteor. All in all it was one of those aircraft that you're at home in straight away, whereas it would take me a long time to be comfortable in a Meteor. The Vampire flew , the Meteor was just a projectile - all push and no lift. That was the difference.

Our work was the dullest flying imaginable. During the summer months our chief regular customers were the TA AA camps at Tonfanau: they fired 3.7s (?) out to sea, some of the time at a target (drogue - flag ?) towed by the Beau. When this was in front of the guns, the crew were fairly safe, but as it got farther down the firing line the angle closed up, and sometimes an over-keen Terrier would bang off one round too many.

They peppered the tail feathers of the Beau from time to time, but never managed to shoot it down. "Joe" and "Zed-Zed" philosophically accepted this hazard, as for the little (NS) airman on the winch at the back (who was closest of all to the shrapnel), nobody asked him.

A drogue is all very well, but a live aircraft would be all the more interesting to fire at, wouldn't it ? We weren't as expendable as all that, (although I sometimes have my doubts), so we arranged to give them a wraith of a Spitfire to aim at, as the next best thing. They had a half-silvered mirror built into their gunsights. A Spitfire flew (6,000 ft) up and down a "beat" from Barmouth to Aberdovey and back a mile or so inshore behind the guns.

The mirror image of the aircraft would appear in their sights, traversing North as you were flying South, and vice versa - and Bob's your Uncle. The shell-bursts would cluster round the phantom aircraft, sometimes they got a direct "hit", and everyone was happy.

On the south side of the Barmouth estuary a TA Bofors gun battery had a tented camp for their people, with their guns set up to "defend" it. We had to practise mock strafing attacks on this camp, (if the guns fired back, I hope they used blanks). Oddly, no "minimum height" was in the Orders for this, and we took full advantage. It made a nice change from the previously described task; now we got right down among the tents. I don't think we ever knocked any down, but we may have blown a few over.

Almost as soon as I arrived, there was a tragedy. It was a dirty night, and a Lincoln was coming in on a diversion - actual or practice I know not - and Valley didn't then have a CR/DF, but still used the old manual rig. Things were made more difficult by the fact that a very broad Scot was our Controller, the pilot was a Czech whose command of English was not all that good. And, as Geriaviator has pointed out, (#3286 p. 165. 16 Dec) all the aircraft of that era were very noisy inside, a Lincoln more than most.

To cut a long story short, they got him overhead and sent him out on Valley's Safety Lane, which was Zero One Zero. As this goes straight out over the Irish sea, I don't suppose he would be more than 2,000 ft. He read One Zero Zero, and before the D/F operator could get a reliable bearing, there was another wreck in Snowdonia to add to the scores of wartime ones (all dead, of course).

As for us, to the best of my knowledge and belief, we never had a single flying accident during the whole time I was there, and therefore no casualties. There was little temptation to do anything stupid; although the two Menai bridges absolutely begged to be flown under, identification and the consequent sacking would be so certain that nobody even thought of it.

Next time I shall put in a Tale of Old Valley (trusting once again to our Moderator's infinite forbearance).

Evenin' all,

Danny42C.


You never know your luck.

DFCP
12th Jan 2013, 16:22
Danny 42C
I note that all your fellow pilots in 20 Squadron were WW2 vintage.
I think the NS pilot scheme began in 48 so one might think some of them would make it to Squadron service by 1950.
Or was NS too short to allow this?

Union Jack
12th Jan 2013, 16:27
A drogue is all very well, but a live aircraft would be all the more interesting to fire at, wouldn't it ?

Sorry to butt in again so soon, Danny, but your comment above inevitably reminded me how every now and again, often around 1 April, official-looking notices used to appear on ship's company notice boards asking for volunteers either for Observers for Pilotless Target Aircraft (PTAs) or, possibly aimed at those less keen on becoming aircrew, Splash Target Coxswains. Even more curiously, there were always a few volunteers, sometimes for both categories, but usually more for PTA Observers, perhaps because of the prospect of flying pay ...... :uhoh:

Jack

smujsmith
12th Jan 2013, 18:40
Hi Danny,

Forgive my impudence but I've been following this thread for around 2 years now, by far the most interesting on PPRUNE!! I once worked ( as ground crew) on the RAF Vintage pair, and never once heard a pilot say that the Meteor was superior in performance over the Vampire. I detect your preference, with respect to performance, would be toward the Meteor. Am I correct in my thinking ? I must admit I preferred the Meteor to the Vamp from a servicing point of view. I also have to say thanks for your picking this thread up, and, keeping it going. It really is very special.

Smudge

Danny42C
12th Jan 2013, 20:11
DFCP,

IIRC, Compulsory National Service was re-introduced on 1st Jan 1949 (but am open to correction). That being so, and assuming that it would take 12 months at least to reach squadron level, the first NS pilots could not appear until early 1950.

The first one I recall coming across joined 608 (Auxiliary) Sqn in 1953. There may have been a compulsory requirement for them to undertake Auxiliary service as a condition of acceptance for pilot training.

We really need an ex-NS pilot to give us the 'gen'

Cheers, Danny.

millerscourt
13th Jan 2013, 07:44
I have a feeling Lord Tebitt was a NS Pilot and I see he was born 29th March 1931 so he would have been 18 in March 1949.

Perhaps we could get him to contribute?

Geriaviator
13th Jan 2013, 11:37
Such memories! :D We look forward to Danny's foray in the Tiger Moth.
Meantime, Danny, you have a PM.

Fareastdriver
13th Jan 2013, 12:35
and as the T11 had not come along yet, it was a case of read the Pilot's Notes, climb in and off you go.

With the mixture of T11s an FB5s in later years one would do their dual and initial solo on the T11. When the time came for the first solo on the single seat the pilot would sit in the cockpit and a half dozen airmen would slump over the booms and drop the tail until the bumpers were just clear of the ground. The pilot then would have an idea of what the landing attitude was.
The same technique was used after wet start. The aircraft was tipped up so the fuel would drain out of the jet pipe. Then, not always, the aircraft would be pushed clear of the pool of fuel and another start attempt would be made, normally with a fresh trollyacc and an asbestos blanket draped over the horizontal tailplane. This would be done with one eye on the JPT guage and the other on the rear view mirror to see how hot and more importantly, how big the flame.


Because the Meteor's hood flipped over to starboard we always started No2 engine first. This was in case you had a dud trolleyacc and the engine caught fire. The hood then shielded you from the conflagration as you vaulted out of the cockpit. We started No3 first on the Valiant for the same reason.

26er
13th Jan 2013, 13:23
DFCP and Danny,

May I refer you to post 2926 on page 147 for a bit of info about National Service pilots.

My arthritic right wrist reminds me of the time at High Ercal which was being used as a temporary flying field whilst the TernHill runway was being resurfaced. We had returned from Christmas leave to begin the Harvard phase of the course and whilst pushing the hangar doors closed my wrist broke (don't ask!) and my first flight was as a passenger to Cosford Hospital. My arm was in plaster from hand to elbow. I was concerned about being recoursed so when the w/cdr surgeon said "use your hand as much as possible" I asked if that meant I could continue flying training he said "I see no reason why not" and wrote a letter to the SMO to that effect. So my first solo in the Harvard was done wth my arm in plaster On the final medical in the RAFVR(T) aged 65 the disbelieving MO found the letter in my docs. It wouldn't happen now.

pzu
13th Jan 2013, 14:50
Danny et al

Have quoted Tinus le Roux's video interviews before, his latest is with Denis Taylor a Spitfire pilot (and also POW) of 4 Sqd SAAF

http://saafww2pilots.yolasite.com/denis-taylor.php

Also his library is

Tinus le Roux - YouTube (http://www.youtube.com/user/biltongbru?feature=mhee)

Trust these may be of interest (I have Tinus's permission to post links)

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

Danny42C
13th Jan 2013, 19:09
Union Jack,

Sounds like the old "left-handed screwdriver" and "striped paint !".......D.


Smudge,

Vamps had less than half the thrust of the Meteor (IIRC, 3200lb against 7000lb) but didn't weigh all that much less. And many thanks for your complimentary remarks......D.


millerscourt,

Dead right ! If only we could get him. Appeared a few nights ago on the box, did his NS and then went into BOAC. Showed him in a Britannia (?), was a F/O, I believe, became a union rep (GAPAN ?) and from there to politics..........D.


Geriaviator,

Thanks for the PM tip (have replied - am not an early riser !). Tiger story in next.........D.


Fareastdriver,

Ah, the dreaded "Wet Start" ! (one of my foxes shot, never mind). No asbestos sheets for us, tailplane had to take its chance. Flame often reached 50 ft behind the tailpipe, so ground crew had to clear all combustibles well away.

I like the idea of getting it to "sit up and beg" to mimic landing attitude, and can see the sense in it although it was never taught to us. Forward visibility from the cockpit to ground was even better than in a T7 - in fact, better than in a car (except in an "Isetta"!)

Now they tell us ! This is the first I've heard of this hazard. Dumb question: why would a flat trolley-acc cause an engine fire ? (I ask in all innocence). Apart from that, it was clearly a good idea, as any engine can blow up on starting and you kept all escape routes open until all were running smoothly.........D.


26er and DFCP,

Looked your Post up, and of course it's all there ! (pleads Short Term Memory Loss and advanced age). Your experience would fit well with a restart date of 1/1/49 for National Service.

We had one of the MQs at High Ercall from '64 to '67 when I was at Shawbury. As to right arms in plaster casts (any "G" effects?), "Gus" Walker flew everything at Strubby up to a Hunter with a fake right hand......D.


pzu,

Saving 'em up for a treat. Thanks !.......D.



My sincere regards to you all. Mind how you go ! Danny,

Fareastdriver
13th Jan 2013, 19:54
Danny. Sorry about you're fox. I shall keep out of it.

Danny42C
13th Jan 2013, 20:39
Fareastdriver,

We were all in same RAF. Foxes free for all. Keep in it !,

Danny.

airpolice
13th Jan 2013, 21:52
BBC News - Today - Female WWII Spitfire Joy Lofthouse: Nothing was scary

This is a nice wee clip from the BBC, Joy Lofthouse talking about delivering aircraft.

CharlieJuliet
13th Jan 2013, 22:02
Hi Danny,
Your memory is still excellent. According to the Vamp T11 Pilot's Notes the Goblin produced 3200 lb static thrust, the clean aircraft auw was 10900 lb and a clean aircraft took 12 mins from sl to 30,000ft. The Meteor T7 PNs state that the Derwent Mk 8 or 9 produced 3500 lb static thrust. I'm not sure what a clean T7 auw was but the maximum auw was 18800lb. I expect this was full ventral and drops (ventral 175 imp gals and drops 2 * 100, - about 2900 lb at .79 sg). A clean T7 would get to 30 in 5.5 mins, and with a ventral it took 6.5 mins. Hope this is of interest.

Danny42C
14th Jan 2013, 01:02
Charliejuliet,

Thanks for the information. As far as as I was concerned, the Vampire's plus point was its endurance (almost the double that of the Meteor). IIRC, all the Auxiliary squadrons were equipped with the Vampire, as being easier to fly and only half the number of engines for the part-timers to maintain.

Each (Aux) squadron would have one T7 for I.R. practice and rating checks.

I am sure you are right about the very heavy T7 (18,800 lb). Must be the one with tips and ventral full (total 505 gallons). I only flew one once in that condition, and frankly didn't notice much difference.

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
15th Jan 2013, 01:49
The Tiger Moth had largely been replaced by the Chipmunk as the RAF's primary trainer. The surplus Tigers were distributed round the Stations, where they were kept more or less as pets. The didn't take up much hangar space, need much maintenance or use much petrol. They came in handy on fine days for pilots on ground duties to keep their hands in. They started me off on the one that Valley had got.

I am amused to read (in my log), that I got five minutes dual. Then I was sent off on a sector recce. I wandered right round the island: it struck me that this would be a very difficult place to get lost in. I had a look at Snowdon and the North Wales coast as far as Penmaenmawr, (the mountain behind half eaten away by slate mining). It had been nine years since I'd had goggles on and had the wind whistling round my ears in a chilly open cockpit.

Then back to land. A bunch of onlookers, knowing I was straight off Meteors (think of a Tornado today), and on my first trip in a Tiger, gathered to see the fun. I didn't disappoint them. I brought it in Meteor style, low and fast. Of course the thing wouldn't stay down, but bounded along like a kangaroo, until I had to swallow my pride before I ran out of greensward and went around. After that inept exhibition, my next attempt was much slower and I held it off till it decided, of its own volition, to stop floatimg and flop down. It was not an impressive début. Two days later I had my first trip in the Vampire (solo, no T11s yet). The rest of April was Vampires and Spitfires.

Again, our Army tasks were logged simply as code numbers and letters, but the only one I now recall was "Y 6" (the Barmouth-Aberdovey "mirror" beat for the Terriers) of which we did a lot. Curiously, in my early months Spitfire IXs appear in my log (in April, TD254, TB379) as well as a XVI (RW351), but a TE345 is logged as a XVI, too. I would certainly have known the difference (and had it sharply pointed out to me if I didn't), and the logs are fully countersigned, but in later months only XVIs and Vampire IIIs appear.

So many "funny things happened on the way to the Theatre" during my time (a mere 18 months) there, that I've had to set out a "time line" to keep them in correct order. Yet some incidents bridge months: the following three Posts make up two short stories which may amuse (pace the Moderators).

Imagine an early spring night in '50, with a gale roaring round our old Nissen Mess and threatening to rip off the rattling loose corrugated iron sheets. In the bar and anteroom we have the luxury of fireplaces, the sole source of warmth and we cluster around these and retell tales old and not-so-old. One had taken place shortly after the Squadron came in, nine months before my time. I listened, spellbound. And I accept absolutely no responsibility for the truth of any part of it !

----------------------------The Beauty Competition (Part1)----------------------

The Squadron arrived in Valley in midsummer of '49. At that time the Welsh Tourist Board were attempting to popularise Anglesey as a holiday resort.. Morecambe, Blackpool and Southport were doing all right; their weather was no better than ours and our sands were just as good. What we didn't have was much in the way of Attractions. Down the coast, Butlin's were raking it in at Pwillhelli, and the highspot of a week there was the Beauty Competition. Anglesey should have one, too.

Here they had to box carefully. Wales generally, North Wales in particular and Anglesey above all were hotbeds of Wesleyan Methodism. Chapel was a power in the land, comparable to that wielded in the '50s by the Catholic Church in rural Ireland. I'm not familiar with the command structure of the Wesleyan Church, but gather that they have "Leaders", who are broadly similar to the better known "Elders of the Kirk". They would have to be squared first.

The starting position was that this was a sinful idea, designed to encourage the worst instincts of men, and therefore not to be contemplated under any circumstances. But when it was explained to them that this would attract more visitors, these would bring more employment and (crucially) more money into the island, and that some of it would certainly end up in the Chapel, they relented, reluctantly and with reservations. Terms and Conditions would apply.

Do not miss the next Gripping Instalment.

Goodnight again, friends,

Danny42C


You never know.

Yamagata ken
15th Jan 2013, 10:41
Thanks Danny. A question. I've read that the late Merlin engined Spitfires were the "nicest" to fly, and the Griffon Spitfires were a bit "over engined". Could you give us your impressions? As an overgrown schoolboy, the Spitfire is the aircraft I've always wanted to fly (insert green with envy Smiley). Well, that and the Mosquito and the Sea Fury and the..............

Union Jack
15th Jan 2013, 12:36
Smiley, Ken, Use of, For!:ok:


http://www.mommaville.com/forums/images/smilies/envy.gif

Jack

Danny42C
15th Jan 2013, 16:18
Yamagata ken,

I have only 8 hours in the XIV and 4 in the XXII, so have only my first impressions of the Griffons. My opinion was:

Too much power for the airframe, too heavy, the old lightness of touch had gone. (Having said that, the people who got used to them swore by them).

The nicest ones ? Mks I & II. The best all-rounder ? Mks IX & XVI, (same thing with Packard Merlin).

The weirdest one ? The two-seater Mk. IX(T). Why on earth ?

The RAF's most beautiful aircraft ? Mosquito and Hunter.

De gustibus non est disputandum.

Cheers, Danny

PS. As a geologist, what do you reckon to the latest twist in the buried- Spitfires saga. To a simple soul like me, it sounds as if they are below the water table. In which case, they'll have to pump all Burma dry first. Am I missing something ? Pontius Navigator (and others) made the same point recently (and had to chuckle over Smiley !).........D.

Geriaviator
15th Jan 2013, 17:40
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Tigermoth_zps9390466b.jpg

Air display at Weston-super-Mare, 1972. In the front cockpit is Barry Tempest, display pilot extraordinary who is still flying displays at the age of 74. On the right, Royal Naval Air Yard Sydenham, 1971.


As so many of Danny's generation knew it, and some even loved it, I pray your tolerance while I ramble on about the Tiger Moth.

This venerable biplane dates from 1932 and I was lucky to have owned one of the 10,000 produced. It was a superb trainer because it was (and is) very difficult to fly really well, but forgave the pilot who made a mess of things. It was said that if you could three-point a Tiger in a strong breeze you could land anything, and I would agree with that.


At war's end a Tiger could be bought for £50. There were so many in storage that they were tipped on their noses and stacked like toast-racks, which is why many show repairs on their cowling 'chin'. And because they were thumped in so many ways, there are repair schemes for almost every component.


I learned all this, and much more, from Air Registration Board surveyor C. H. Taylor, who during the war had responsibility for 70 Tiger Moths at a training airfield in England. In the 1960s the would-be aircraft engineer had to spend at least three years on aircraft maintenance, with a further 18 months on type. All work had to be logged, the log book forming the question paper for the oral exam which was taken after one had passed the written exams.


My Tiger Moth oral took an exhausting two hours, and was not so much an exam as a lesson from a master engineer. We crawled over the three Tigers in our hangar and he pointed out repairs which dated from the war years -- in one case the original camouflage paint was still there beneath a coat of silver. Working night and day in all weathers, Charlie Taylor was one of thousands of engineers without whom the great battle could not have been won.


Danny, all the jet jockeys had trouble with the Tiger. My friend Tom came from another de Havilland product, the Sea Vixen, staggered off the runway and held the nose to the stars so the Tiger mushed across the airfield rather than climbing until he realised there was only 120hp up front rather than 8000hp down the back. On our return he, too, floated along the runway for almost half a mile. (Fortunately for the local populace, I was not allowed to exercise my limited skills in Tom's Sea Vixen.)


Because RNAY Sydenham's Captain Monk had been a Fleet Air Arm wartime instructor, the Tiger Moth was allowed to live with the Sea Vixens, provided that a very large drip tray was positioned to catch the oil which the Gipsy Major engine exuded from every joint. The slipstream then spread the oil along the belly so most parts could drip onto the Royal Navy's spotless painted floor, a keel-hauling offence. But all was forgiven for a Tiger Moth. Especially when she was available to the Skipper ...


The Tiger had no brakes, its tailskid working very well on the grass airfields of the day. On tarmac it's a nightmare, for it weathercocks into wind and downwind picks up speed like a galleon in full sail. After the fourth occasion of shutting down, baling out and grabbing the tail to stop it from attacking a harmless Trident, I welded a rock drill bit to a worn-out skid and achieved reasonable steering. However, the appearance of deep scores across airport aprons did not encourage return visits and regular destinations allowed me to use their grass areas, controlling my non-radio movements by Aldis light just like the old days.


Today, most airfields are tarmac so a few Tigers have been fitted with brakes and tailwheels from their cousin the Stampe. If you wondered, the Stampe is much lighter and more responsive on the controls than the Tiger, but it's much more fragile in inexperienced hands. The sturdy, reliable, pupil-proven Tiger Moth played a vital role, and well deserves the affection bestowed upon it.

Yamagata ken
15th Jan 2013, 21:06
Wearing my geologist's hat, there won't be a problem. The key word is "permeability". Myanmar=tropical=clay=low permeability (I can do geology from 35,000 feet). All you need is a reasonable pump and you will end up with a dryish hole. What's at the bottom of the hole, Lord knows. I'm hoping and wishing for a batch of pristine Spitfires. What I expect is a heap of Fe stained Al oxide.

Danny42C
15th Jan 2013, 22:23
Geriaviator,

Lovely picture of a lovely little aeroplane ! It's hard to think it's an eighty years old design now.

I flew it occasionally over the years, but always in warm sunny weather. I would think you'd need to wrap up well in winter. I think the RCAF had a canopied one for their frozen wastes.

I suppose that the great majority of the pilots who won their Brevets in WW2 started on the Tiger; I was always surprised how an apparently flimsy thing like that stood up to EFTS service, but it did. They put me in the Stearman for my first sixty hours in the US, it was heavier, more powerful and tougher than a Tiger and IMHO, more suitable for the job - but every man to his taste !

You have all the tolerance you want ! Ramble on ! (the pics are wonderful, too).

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
15th Jan 2013, 22:59
Yamagata ken,

Thanks, Ken. So a dry hole is possible. Now we have the top hat, where's the rabbit ?

Still a sceptic (it would be wonderful, but.........)

Danny

Nervous SLF
15th Jan 2013, 23:26
Canadian Tiger Moth with canopy ( stolen from another website )

http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g64/PoorOldSpike/Photos%20Two/Tiger-Moths-Canada.jpg

Chugalug2
16th Jan 2013, 07:20
Ah, the dear old Tiger Moth! What a wonderful aeroplane it still is. As Danny says, there were more surplus Tigers in the 50's than you could count. Evidently many of the survivors still show damage and/or repairs to the nose cowl where they were stood on end, a la Toast Racks, in storage awaiting their fate. One such fate was to have the centre fuselage widened out and a four seater (just) cabin replace the two cockpits, the engine moved forward a little and the rear fuselage lengthened to accommodate baggage. The result was a cheap touring aircraft with utility variants (crop dusting etc), called the Thruxton Jackaroo. As the name suggests this was done at Thruxton where was the Wiltshire School of Flying. It was to there that I reported as the lucky recipient of a CCF Flying Scholarship. Most of the training was on the Jackaroo, but the spinning and stalling stuff still had to be done on the Tiger, thank goodness!
Happy days; no radios, no ATC, and our accommodation in the ubiquitous Nissen Hut. The airfield had been a USAAF Thunderbolt base during the recent "unpleasantness" and little had changed meantime. Car and Motorbike Racing were still a good idea yet to occur...
Thruxton Jackaroo - (http://www.aviastar.org/air/england/jackaroo.php)

thing
16th Jan 2013, 11:22
Did anyone find the Moth uncomfortable? I had the pleasure of flying one from the front seat one day but by golly, was my back stiff when I got out. Lovely to fly but not lovely to sit in.

Danny, wonderful to read your posts, I'm sure there are many like me who read them without you knowing!

Geriaviator
16th Jan 2013, 14:19
Yes Chugalug, I well remember the Jackaroo. In the 1950s there was a great demand for cabin tourers so the tubular centre section of a war surplus Tiger Moth was removed, cut longitudinally along one side, and widened to accommodate two narrow seats. The Tiger control box, a wooden structure about six feet long and housing the two sticks internally linked by a tube, remained in its original mounting so pilot and instructor sat on the left. In plan view it resembled a tadpole and had ample room for four Hobbits, though I never tried it with four humans.

As far as I recall about 20 were so converted, among them G-APAO which I borrowed for a trip to the islands of Islay and Colonsay, landing on the golf links, an area of rough pasture slightly less rough than the other pasture. The long travel undercart and fat wheels easily coped with the rabbit holes.

The Jackaroo handled like a Tiger but its fine-pitch airscrew (low geared, if you like) gave a cruising speed of only 70 mph at 1850 rpm, with corresponding reduction in range. On the other hand, two-up it leapt into the Atlantic breeze in four or five times its length. About 30 years ago -- wearing my grease-monkey overalls rather than my flying set -- I had a hand in converting her back to a Tiger Moth. She now flies in RAF Training Command colours.

The Auster Autocrat offered better performance but wasn't as nice to fly, with a nasty habit of dropping its wing when landing in gusty conditions. Within a few years Cessna and Piper made their appearance and the fabric covered taildragger almost disappeared until today, when folk pay big money to fly something which nobody wanted a few decades ago. But then I suppose they said the same about Rembrandt's creations.

Thing, I'm average build but found the Tiger Moth as comfortable as any other motorbike. I made a padded storage box to replace the seat parachute and had no back troubles in some 400 hours but sea crossings perched on a dinghy made for a numb bum. Long afterwards I had a shoulder problem which I'm sure began with prop-swinging, though now it's faded among all the other aches and pains. Longest trip was Paris and back, 1100 miles non-radio in happy days when one didn't need ATC clearance to visit the airfield loo ... :ooh:

While on the Tiger theme, may I remember my first instructor A.C.H. (Tubby) Dash, AFC, the medal awarded for his services to flight training. He had many hundreds if not thousands of hours on Tiger Moths and he could almost make them talk. At war's end he moved from Shorts at Rochester to Shorts in Belfast, where he ferried new aircraft to the Far East as well as instructing the firm's flying club.

Tubby consumed whisky as a Tiger Moth drank petrol and would often be completely relaxed by the end of the evening. Despite this one could set the clock by his 0955 arrival the following morning. He told me one day that around 1949 he had ferried a Sealand amphibian to the Middle East using a school atlas, maps not being available. He instructed until he was 80, and to my knowledge no pupil in his care came to harm in his last 30 years of tuition.

When Tubby died around 1982 we decided to pay tribute with a Tiger Moth triple formation. Rehearsals showed that this required considerable effort but on the morning I think the old aeroplanes knew, for BZ failed to develop her frequent mag drop, IT started instantly despite being warm, and DP did not flood her carb as usual. Summoned from a discreet distance by secret signal (bedsheet waved from rear of the crematorium) our tight vic puttered over the cemetery at 500ft, or maybe a little lower. The best bit was receiving a letter from Tubby's widow thanking us for the lovely surprise and saying that nobody could have given him a finer sendoff.

Danny42C
16th Jan 2013, 20:03
Nervous SLF,

Thanks for the very nice pic. It looks quite a roomy arrangement, doesn't it, and with Geriaviator's wheel brakes would make the Tiger wellnigh perfect.

Two things caught my eye: on the left front strut there seems to be the quadrant for the old spring flap ASI (but the Tiger in front must have a more civilised one). And the crash truck over by the hangar is yellow, not red. Were they that colour in Canada ? (if the thing on top of the cab is not a foam monitor, what is it ?.............D

Chugalug,

I'd never heard of the Thruxton Jackaroo - at first I thought we were talking about the Fox Moth of the early '30s. (Long ago on this Thread, fredjhh and I were trading memories of the one on Ainsdale Beach ). This second stab at the idea of a 'cabin' Tiger, using every bit of a Tiger ("except the squeal"), looks better than the first, I must say. Happy Days they surely were !......D.

thing,

There is no such thing as a comfortable pilot seat in any military aircraft - at least as far as the one-man-band operators are concerned. As for the four-in-handers, I imagine they recline in their club armchairs, reading the Times while second dickey watches autopilot and calls for coffee and biscuits as and when instructed ('ware incoming ..... Chugalug ?) ...... And many thanks for the very kind words........D.

Geraviator,

Thanks for the description of the Jackaroo. Pic (on Wiki) looks very civilised. At least they had some forward vision, whereas the Fox Moth had a sort of four-seat Sedan chair set-in where the cockpits had been, with the pilot stuck up behind on top like a Hansom-cab driver.

"Only" 90 mph cruise ? My memory of Tigers is that the magic figure was 55 knots (65 mph). You used that for everything, take off, flying around and coming in to land

Your Tubby Dash sounds a character. They don't make 'em like that any more - more's the pity..........D.

Cheerio, everyone,

Danny.

Madbob
17th Jan 2013, 08:10
Tiger Moth Flying at Cambridge

I had the great privilege to fly the two Tigers at the Cambridge Flying Group and be taught by Bill Ison back in 1989. He was a legend as CFI and after 6 hours dual had my first solo. (This was after a three year gap in flying after leaving the RAF).

A truly great experience and my first open cockpit flying since 1976 as an ATC cadet flying T21/T31 gliders at Debden.

Happy days!

MB

Chugalug2
17th Jan 2013, 08:26
Danny:-
Chugalug, I'd never heard of the Thruxton Jackaroo
tbh, Danny, you hadn't missed much. We studes were less than impressed, having each been issued with the complete Biggles Kit of helmet (with Gosport "earphones" rather than electric ones), fur lined boots, Irvin jackets, gloves silk inner, gauntlets outer leather, etc etc, only to find that we could leave it all packed away as most of our flying was to be in this proverbial bus! Unlike you I don't remember the numbers but the thrill of being in a "real" aeroplane when we quit the Jackaroo for the Tiger Moth is still vivid in my mind.
Geriaviator, I'm glad to hear that you did the right thing in turning this uninspiring caterpillar back into the glorious species of Lepidoptera that it really was. Hopefully the same thing happened to most of the others, though the one or two remaining examples bear warning to others who might have a similar "good idea". I seem to remember that the project was under the auspices of one Sqn Ldr Doran Webb who also presided over the Wiltshire School of Flying. At least that ensured the launch customer base, indeed probably the only one. It might perhaps have been he who ruefully warned that "the Jackaroo will knacker you", for I doubt if it made him rich.

Danny:-
There is no such thing as a comfortable pilot seat in any military aircraft - at least as far as the one-man-band operators are concerned.
Bit late to start complaining now, old chap. As you say we multi seat wallahs faired much better, once we had become unencumbered of the bang seats and parachute harnesses that were part of the training system. The Hastings pilot seats would have done justice to a Pall Mall Club, upholstered as they were in a tasteful shade of green leather, fully adjustable, equipped with arm and head rests, in short a fitting tribute to Mr Handley Page's awareness of the importance of satisfied customers. Unlike Mr Lockheed, who fitted out his wares solely for large Texan cowboys, I suspect. Those of lesser stature needed to resort to variants of a child's booster seat to see over the control column...

Geriaviator
17th Jan 2013, 10:28
Quite right Danny, 55 kts was appropriate for the Tiger Moth, but they would cruise at 90 mph/2050 rpm. My pilot side wanted to crack on, the grease-monkey on my shoulder whispered "1930 design and casting, white metal bearings, Avgas 15p a litre" so I throttled back to 1850 rpm and about 75 kts. After all I had to pay for the Avgas which gurgled down its gravity feed much more quickly at such high speeds :(

The Jackaroo's fine pitch prop lifted the load but restricted cruise to 70/seventy mph. The Gipsy Major was very reliable but I never pushed it not least because the repair bill would fall on myself and not Her Majesty, assuming I was able to walk out from the pieces. Not that I minded, for Their Majesties often required the ultimate price for your generation's aviation.

Another memory of Tubby Dash my instructor. Relatively little has been written by WW2 instructors, Yellow Belly (Chance) being the only book I have encountered. Perhaps this is because so many operational pilots were posted to instruct as a "rest". I could not get Tubby to talk about his wartime experiences except on yet another rainy day to delay my first cross-country. "Listen, son, better down here wishing you were up there than up there praying you were down here".

I asked him what he remembered best about a lifetime of instruction and he gazed out the rain-lashed window for at least 30 seconds. "Seeing young men grow up", he replied. When at long last I found myself alone in the skies for the first time, I began to understand what he meant.

Danny42C
17th Jan 2013, 18:34
Madbob,

Quote: "This was after a three year gap in flying after leaving the RAF" My experience exactly. It's true, it's like riding a bike. You never forget !....D.

Chugalug,

Like you, all the full scale of my flying kit went back to stores unused except for helmet, goggles and mask (suede flying boots were "liberated", I have with shame to confess). But wasn't it a bit chilly when you got to the Tiger at last (perhaps it was in warmer climes ?) They'd have done better to issue the stuff in bits and pieces as need arose. And the kit took up most of a kitbag, which was a nuisance.

Seats ? All right for some ! You're quite right about the US - the Vengeance seats and cockpits were designed for your typical All-American quarterback !.........D.

Geriaviator,

"Avgas 15p a litre" If only....! How right your old Tubby was ! A whole generation of young men had to grow up very fast indeed. I've always thought of my five years in War as the university that I could never have afforded (in those days) to attend.......D.

My thanks to you all for your support for this prince of Threads (another Post on the way tonight),

Danny

Danny42C
17th Jan 2013, 19:21
The operation was therefore mounted. I am not sure where (all this happened months before my time), and the publicity brought in quite a squad of hopeful contestants from all round the island. Now they needed an impartial panel of judges. The difficulty was that every Welshman is pathologically suspicious of the motives every other Welshman, and the promoters would find it hard indeed to compose a group which would not finish at each other's throats.

The obvious solution was staring them in the face. What about this new community of impartial strangers which had just arrived in their midst ? They invited the officers of the Squadron to put up half a dozen of their finest. In hindsight this was not to turn out to be the best idea since sliced bread, but it looked all right at the time. In the Mess, there was some in-fighting to secure one of the half-dozen places, as the possibilities were obvious. I think the Boss had to lay down the law in the end. Anyway, the rest would be in the front row with the local civic notables. The great day came - and the panel opened their Sealed Orders.

Of course the thing was a fix. This was the only condition on which the Leaders had allowed it to go forward. Virtue must be seen to triumph. In all conscience the Preferred Candidate would have been high in the betting order in any case, and she was of impeccable pedigree, too - Sunday School teacher, lead soprano in the choir, Brown Owl, pillar of the Chapel - the lot. They were to choose her and no other. But when the parade was assembled for inspection, another last-minute entrant appeared who was head and shoulders ahead of the field, so to speak. They flouted their orders and voted unanimously for her.

Then all Hell broke loose, for it seemed that they had unwittingly selected a well known Lady of Ill Fame. They barely escaped from the venue with their lives. Loudly rang out the hwyl in the Chapels next morning. Beelzebub had come amongst them and his name was RAF Valley. They were banished from the polite society of Anglesey - not that there was all that much of that, anyway. Daughters were locked up. Pubs and shops did not to carry their aversion to them to the point of actually refusing their money, but a bar which could be heard loudly discussing the football results, say, suddenly switched in a body to Welsh as we came in. I don't know the Welsh for "doghouse", but whatever it was, they were well and truly in it.

Even a Max Clifford would be hard put to it to improve our image. Some remedial P.R. was badly needed. So matters rested when I arrived on the Squadron in April, 1950. And about this time there happened another unfortunate incident.

A retired senior member of the Works and Bricks team who had maintained the airfield for years in war and peace had died. He had expressed a wish that his ashes be scattered from the air over the airfield which he'd had in his care for so long.

All arrangements were made to do this with due reverence and dignity. The time was chosen, a clergyman of his denomination would attend with the mourners. No aircraft would move (excepting the Harvard which would perform the task), and the Station would maintain silence during the ceremony. The Harvard would overfly at 1,000 ft, the urn-bearer in the back cockpit would uncap and instruct the pilot to yaw hard, while the ashes of the deceased were poured over into the inside of the yaw.

What exactly went wrong, I do not know. There was an unstable north -westerly blowing; it was very turbulent. Perhaps the timing of the "Yaw" was 'out'. Fortunately about half the ashes went over the side, so the watchers below would see a grey-white puff of "smoke" to confirm that the task had been completed. The other half blew back into the Harvard, ending all over the cockpit, its occupant and down the back end. The horrifed crew conferred frantically. Should they confess when they got down ? How could the aircraft be reverently cleaned ? (you can't very well hose him out). Who would tell the mourners ? It didn't bear thinking about.

On the other hand, a cockpit is pretty dusty at the best of times, isn't it ? What had gone down the back end was only grit and powder, it was well spread out, it shouldn't cause any problems if left alone. They resolved to keep their mouths shut, and it was long afterwards before I heard a whisper of what had really happened.

The Harvard continued in service and showed no sign of its grisly secret. By rights, there should be a ghost story coming along soon - the "Tale of the Haunted Harvard" - but apparently the dear departed saw the funny side of things and bore us no ill will. It may be flying yet - Harvards moved from Station to Station a lot, and over the years some of my readers may have flown it, so I shall not give its airframe number.

Some Good News coming next (and not before !) time, so all is not lost - yet !

Goodnight again,

Danny42C


Misfortunes never come singly.

smujsmith
17th Jan 2013, 20:26
Great reminiscence Danny, and up to your usual standard. Your recollection of the " ashes drop" brought to mind my time on the Flight line at RAF Lyneham (mid 80's). A very well known and well liked W.O. Had died and asked that his ashes be disbursed from the ramp of an Albert, over a particularly beautiful spot of his choosing. Permission was granted for this and the task flown, complete with Sky Pilot and supporters, all wearing belts and being tethered to the floor.

As the point of release approached, said sky pilot began his ministrations, the para drop sequence lights were used in sequence and the Loadmaster attempted to spread the contents of the urn to the four winds. As any Para will tell you, the turbulence around the rear of Albert is serious stuff, and, whilst most of the contents of the urn escaped to target, a lot remained, coating the inside of the rear of the aircraft.

Funny thing, I did loads of routes in that particular aircraft as a GE and often felt that my old W.O. was there laughing at me. Your last post brought that straight back to mind after many years, Thank you.

Smudge

Tim Mills
18th Jan 2013, 03:32
Marvelous thread. First came across it in Cliffnmo days, out of touch for a year or two, then delighted to find it still here with Danny and all the others, but haven't contributed because being a Cold War warrior, Meteor, Canberra, instructing, and various desks, never called upon to do anything dangerous or daring! But now, I feel I have to take issue with Danny in his remarks about the Spit 9(T) two seater, having spent several enjoyable hours driving the beast from the rear seat, with either a camera man, a camera only, or on one occasion a dummy dressed as a B of B pilot, in the front seat. So I know what the two seater was really for once the Irish air force, I think, had finished with them!
I agree with him about the other Marks, though never having flown a Griffon one. My favourite was the Mk2 which was the last I flew when I delivered it from Bovingdon to Coltishall, via Cranwell, for the B ofB Memorial Flight once the B of B filming was over.
Wish I could recall as well as Danny, and I am ten years his junior! Many thanks all, keep going, and sorry for the interruption!

Danny42C
18th Jan 2013, 05:24
Tim Mills,

I don't think we're really too far apart on this, Tim. While I readily ackowledge that the 9(T) is very useful for publicity and film purposes, and has given opprtunities to many pilots who could otherwise never have flown in a Spit, it overlooks the basic question.

Is it necessary as a trainer aircraft ? I think not. Any pilot who has gone through basic military flying school should be able to climb in and take it away, as thousands have done before.

Indeed, there was once a popular "thought experiment": If you gave a chap (say) 150 hours in a Tiger Moth, and a month's hard ground school with the Pilot's Notes for a "simple" Spit (Mk. I or II), could he fly it ? I think, very probably, yes (after all, it floats much like a big Tiger on landing).

Come in and interrupt all you like (the water's fine !)

Cheers, Danny.

BEagle
18th Jan 2013, 08:46
My favourite was the Mk2 which was the last I flew when I delivered it from Bovingdon to Coltishall, via Cranwell, for the B ofB Memorial Flight once the B of B filming was over.

I guess that was the one I saw whilst marching back to the SBL from Whittle Hall one afternoon? It certainly lifted the spirits of sprog Junior Entry Flt Cdts like me and I can still clearly remember the sight! Mixing with the JPs in the circuit, it looked like a pike amongst minnows. Thanks Tim!

PeregrineW
18th Jan 2013, 08:55
...but a bar which could be heard loudly discussing the football results, say, suddenly switched in a body to Welsh as we came in.

Many years after this event, I was stationed at a top secret avionics repair establishment situated in the other corner of North Wales. At the weekends, I often used to explore North Wales (including Anglesey) on my motorbike, stopping off for the occasional pint on my journey.

Many's the time when I encountered this same situation upon entering a pub...the minute they clapped eyes on me, the conversation slipped into Welsh. Perhaps they treat all strangers this way...or perhaps they clocked my short haircut and the memory of the beauty competition remained fresh in the collective memory!

BEagle
18th Jan 2013, 09:37
One of the guys on my Gnat course went into a shop in Llangefni or somewhere. The locals immediately switched to Welsh and made some rude comments....

Mistake. Said chum was a fluent Welsh speaker from South Wales, who gave them his robust opinion of ignorant locals who went out of their way to be rude to vistors!

It was quite amusing listening to the locals jabbering away in their local language. Every few moments an English word would be needed for inventions new to them, such as 'fire' or 'wheel'....;)

Chugalug2
18th Jan 2013, 10:00
PW:-
or perhaps they clocked my short haircut and the memory of the beauty competition remained fresh in the collective memory!
I too remember back then, as a CCF cadet on a "hill walking" course based at Bethesda how the local children could slip effortlessly from speaking Welsh into English and back again. Perhaps it was the infamous Beauty Contest that triggered such intense bilingualism, as a bulwark against more cultural invasions? One has to wonder at the naivety of inviting RAF fighter pilots to perform such a task in the first place. Perhaps it was on the basis of Poachers turned Gamekeepers? We shall never know but it clearly backfired spectacularly.
Like Beagle, my appreciation of Spitfires has always been from afar. In that respect I admire them all, single and dual cockpit, Merlin and Griffon powered, Mk 1's to Mk47's, though perhaps the earlier the Mark the greater the interest. If the Burma dig does offer the opportunity to see and hear more of this iconic machine it would be marvellous. Rather like having fleets of HMS Victory, all in full sail! I take Danny's point re the trainer variant though. It was clearly not needed by the RAF, though how many were lost in training accidents that might have been avoided with a spot of dual I do not know. Perhaps that is what the Irish had in mind for the far more limited numbers that they were dealing in. At any rate, as Tim reminds us, that variant has paid off handsomely in filming and even plying for hire to those willing to pay for the "Spitfire experience"

Geriaviator
18th Jan 2013, 11:39
Danny, I think I can answer your proposed conversion from Tiger Moth to Spitfire. My favourite instructor was Sqn Ldr Desmond Mock, who trained in Canada, flew Catalinas on Atlantic patrols from Lough Erne in Northern Ireland, left the RAF for a while and rejoined to end up as a CFS instructor on Vampires and JPs. Maybe some venerable airframe driver will remember him?

I had about 200 Tiger hours and could manage it fairly well -- slow roll down the runway at 1000ft into stall turn, recovering speed by diving to 200ft and landing off the ensuing loop, very silly I know but I had even less sense then :ooh: -- when I asked him that very question. He replied that I might manage the Spitfire but it would be safer after a few hours in a Harvard.

Unlike today's trainers the Tiger Moth requires use of rudder against torque, but its gentle stall/spin was little preparation for the vicious low-speed flick of the Harvard. Trying to cope with higher approach speeds, retractable undercarriage, engine management, VP prop and radio had often proved a fatal combination. He said the Spitfire was more forgiving than the Harvard, though apparently the Mustang could also bite the unwary.

I never did try a Harvard, but I remembered Desmond's kindly words when I eventually encountered wheels, VP prop and full panel in the viceless Piper Arrow. I eventually got all these sorted, and I'm still just about serviceable, so if anyone has a Spitfire handy ...

Danny42C
18th Jan 2013, 19:01
BEagle and PeregrineW,

The Welsh language "snub" seems to have been more extensive than I thought. Perhaps it wasn't just us.

In India, the IAF officers used Hindi or Urdu among themseves in the same way as the Welsh, although they were all fluent English speakers. Again it was odd to hear "Formation" (say) interjected into a flow of Urdu. There was a wonderful example of this used with effect in the much loved "It aint' half hot Mum" TV comedy series many years ago.

The punkah-wallah, in reply to a question regarding the Colonel's activities while on recent leave, lets loose a stream of Hindi which ends in "having it off" !........D.

Chugalug,

To the best of my (limited) knowledge, training accidents in Spitfires were rare (none in my three months at 57 OTU), at least compared with the postwar carnage with the T7. IMHO, I don't think a dual Spit would have made much difference. Now the Harvard could be a little devil - I reckon it more of a handful than any Spit !

Seems the buried Spitfire saga has ended. Pity - we all enjoy a good fairy tale........D

Geraviator,

Tiger to Spit in one bound ? The jury must now be out forever on this one (as in so many of the wartime mysteries). I must of course defer to your QFI (S/Ldr Mock). My case would have been that, with 150 (or even more) hours on the Tiger, the lad would have complete instinctive control of an aircraft, and could concentrate purely on the added mechanical problems he now had and in which he had been thoroughly instructed.

It is curious that it was never tried out in the war (when Prunes were in seemingly inexhaustable supply and anything went). I heard tales of people being taught ab initio to fly (under the hood) from after take-off to long finals. Others did the first 40-50 hours all by night, before they were allowed to see the light of day (when, so the legend went, they were horrified). 150 (or 200) on a TM would save a lot of money.

The test was: try it, it might work. In this vein was the four-engined primary trainer (4 x Pobjoys). I've seen a Recognition silhouette of this, so it must have flown. All these tales reached me out in India, thousands of miles from the action. But somebody must still remember !.........D.

Keep it coming, chaps,

Danny.

BEagle
18th Jan 2013, 19:58
In this vein was the four-engined primary trainer (4 x Pobjoys). I've seen a Recognition silhouette of this, so it must have flown.

Probably this:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/S31-1.jpg

The Short S31, a half-scale Stirling powered by 4 x Pobjoy Niagara engines which first flew in the late 1930s:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/S31-2.jpg

Danny42C
19th Jan 2013, 00:52
Beagle,

This perfectly illustrates the unreliability of memories. I must have seen the silhouette, somebody said: "looks like a four-engine primary trainer - jolly good idea - they're all going to end up on four engines, makes sense to start them the way they'll finish" , and voilà !, we've got a four-engined Tiger Moth - whereas it's nothing of the sort ! (nice pics, too).

Danny.

Fareastdriver
19th Jan 2013, 09:26
It is possible that it flew quite well. There doesn't appear to be so many built in headwinds compared to the Stirling.

Geriaviator
19th Jan 2013, 10:01
Unreliable memory not at all, Danny, you continue to enthrall us. You're right about the ab initio night flying experiment, I recall that my aforementioned CFI Tubby Dash was deeply involved. The trial may have been at Stapleford Tawney or White Waltham.

The Welsh language is alive and well to this day, being switched on for Saesneg-speaking shoppers. We have holidayed in Wales for many years and genuinely tried to support local shops, but after so many discourtesies we now go to Tesco. We find bilingual road signs a hazard too: the local Welsh speakers know where the places are, the visitors who don't must decipher their destination from the clutter.

Thankfully Cardiff ATC does not issue cllearances in Welsh, though I remember being cleared for a VOR approach into Casablanca by a controller speaking very poor English to me, French to a military aircraft already in the procedure, and Arabic to something else. When he cleared us down to the same level as the other aircraft I became rather worried ... but that's another story.

Fareastdriver
19th Jan 2013, 13:32
It's a slack news days so has anybody noticed which number war we are fighting in this thread.

Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW11

Geriaviator
19th Jan 2013, 15:34
Counting the conflicts this week perhaps it's not so far out ...

Danny42C
19th Jan 2013, 17:39
Geriaviator,

Many thanks for the confirmation that at least one of the tall tales I was told in my trusting youth had some substance. But what a story must be there ! Did Tubby tell you any more about it ?

As for the Gift of Tongues in ATC, I will shoot another of my foxes:

The place: Shawbury Tower on a quiet Sunday afternoon. Pierre was a rare exception, a Free French pilot who had married an English girl, stayed here and gravitated (as so many Poles and Czechs) into ATC. (He was short-sighted and was once found in the far corner of the Approach room, having forgotten his specs, trying to read the CR screen with the Tower binoculars).

On this occasion, a French Air Force pair were on frequency (why were they in the UK ? - B. of. B. display ?) The leader's English was not very good and he was having difficulty. Pierre confidently picked up the mike and let him have an earful of his best Parisian. Dead silence for a few moments. Then: "Can you pleeze put zumone on who can speeek Engleesh ". Poor Pierre never lived it down !

Danny.

Danny42C
19th Jan 2013, 23:57
The Beauty Competition débâcle took place in the August (I think) of '49, but we (and "20 Sqdn" and "Valley" are synonymous in this respect) were still very much under a cloud the following Spring when I came. But help was at hand - from a most unexpected source.

I've already referred to our manual D/F hut, which was sited at Trewan Sands (a mile or two on the far side of Rhosneigr). Our T/R towers were over there as well, as in war both had served an underground Operations Block nearby. This was now disused, of course, but still on "Care & Maintenance" (for you never know). It was supposed to be inspected once every blue moon, but in fact no one had looked at it for years.

As it had been built during the war, the contractors would probably have been working on "cost-plus", so wastage would be of little account. An Ops Block (particularly an underground one) needs miles of underground cabling. In the days before PVC had been invented, lead sheathing was the usual waterproofing protection. There would be an enormous quantity of scrap cable arising from drum-ends and offcuts. The contractor disposed of these in the way in which builders always do with their rubbish (have you ever dug the garden in a new house ?)

As Valley was a Master Airfield, the D/F hut would need to be manned 24/7: this would require four operators working a four-watch system. This allows plenty of free time during some days, and they weren't all that busy when on duty. Navigators trying fixes from the old HF/DF stations were getting tired of "cocked-hats" the size of Greater London, when they could get instant bearings on VHF, accurate to a degree, from any CR/DF in earshot. Our four lads had a lot of time on their hands, and one (NS) chap had a very useful hobby indeed. He made lead soldiers.

He had a miniature electrically heated crucible, several sets of moulds and a row of "Humbrol" enamels. All he needed now was a small, but regular supply of lead. And of course, here was one to hand, free for the digging (for the cable was barely under the surface, and there were bits sticking up, so he didn't even have to prospect for it). The operation grew apace. (I would suppose the other three lent a hand; they could do the digging and stripping the lead while the Skilled Man did the casting and the painting). The results were of professional standard.

And they were coining it, right ?....... Wrong ! Now comes the surprising bit. He gave these sets of toy soldiers away free to local Good Causes - Childrens' Christmas parties for the Messes, Draw Prizes for local charites, Hospital Childrens' Wards and Orphanages. The Great Freeze started to melt. Perhaps RAF Valley weren't so bad after all. All this, of course, met with the heartiest approval of everyone from the W/Cdr downwards. The Station Institute staked him for his paint, linseed oil and brushes. People have got MBEs for less.

Here I should perhaps explain that the lead-phobia of later years had not yet developed. From the time of the Romans we had stored our water in lead cisterns and drunk it from the lead pipes in our houses, without noticable ill-effect. As late as Jan '73, on my "resettlement" Course at Catterick, I wielded a blowlamp doing "wiped joints" (?) on the old lead pipes with the best of them. The sight of her babe sucking on a lead soldier would not faze a mother in the least then. Lead toy soldiers were still in the shops.

Even National Servicemen had a bit of leave in their 18 months, and our chap was away. On a Monday morning, the Orderly Room got a call from the Stationmaster at Holyhead. The Adjutant groaned: "Not those bloody Communication Cords again !"

On Saturday nights the airmen used the train for a night out in the Big City - Bangor. Returning in cheerful mood to Valley on the last night train, they did not fancy a two (or three) mile walk from Valley station to the camp, when the line ran literally right behind it. A quick tug on the communication cord, the train ground to a halt, a crowd of shadowy figures tumbled out into the darknes (slamming the doors behind them, I grant you that) and legged it away over the fields before the guard could get anywhere near them. Cursing heartily in his Welsh whiskers, he had no option but to climb back aboard, reset the alarm and blow his whistle to restart.

Complaint to the Station Commander was ineffective, for the culprit(s) could not be identified, and the practice became so regular an occurrence that British Rail became resigned to it, it was said that the loco drivers shut off steam almost as soon as they pulled out of Rhosneigr, ready for the "emergency".

The story of the Lead Soldiers is about to take an unexpected turn.

Goodnight again,

Danny42C.


Things ain't what they used to be.

Geriaviator
20th Jan 2013, 17:30
Some writer called Charles Dickens made his living by publishing his novels chapter by chapter, leaving his readers on tenterhooks until they obtained the next one.
Danny, it's never too late to start a new career ... while we eagerly await the fate of the Lead Soldiers, here's another pic:

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Hastings_zps62df439e.jpg

Chugalug may like to see a very much younger Geriaviator checking out his Hastings at RAF Khormaksar, February 1953. Another daily visitor was the Hastings' pressurised cousin, the Hermes, which passed through the civil terminal at the opposite (east) end of the airfield.
The Hastings returned us to Lyneham the following day for six months at the ghastly Croft transit camp near Warrington. I visited the site a couple of years ago and the concrete hut bases and roadways still remain, as does the dining hall although its roof has collapsed. The entire site is overgrown and peaceful, though it's not hard to conjure up the ghosts of the thousands who passed through it, never to return.

On the right, 20 years later, the Tiger Moth shows yet another talent, this time as a glider tug. At the end of the war a batch of Tigers, mine included, was given to l'Armee de l'Air which in due course pensioned them off to the French gliding movement. Mine, formerly NL896, built by Morris Motors and the same age as I am, came from Avignon complete with French specification oil temperature gauge, engine fire extinguisher system and glider hook. The British C of A required all to be deleted, but they let me keep the hook. It was sold to Brazil a couple of years ago.

I have found a few more pictures taken by my father, these from Andover in 1938. I shall post them shortly, but only after Danny has produced the second chapter of his current saga :D

smujsmith
21st Jan 2013, 18:34
Wow Danny,

What memories you awake! Like your lead soldiers, I will never forget a fellow apprentice who spent most of his meagre pay on models of German Second World War tanks ( I believe made by Tamiyah, a Japanes company)! Having spent all his money and a few weeks lovingly assembling and painting said tanks, he would cover them with lighter fluid and set fire to them in the garden outside of our block at Halton. He would then proceed to photograph the 'conflagration' and I assume still has said photographs.

I apologise for the thread drift, but even us 'new boys' have memories ! Flying Meteors/ Vampires, blimey what's next ?????

Chugalug2
21st Jan 2013, 19:36
Geriaviator, many thanks for the period pic of you at "Kormate". You clearly had excellent taste for such a young age, obviously insisting on being photographed in front of the most majestic kite there;-) Unfortunately your heroic pose (at first sight I thought, blimey that's a very young liney!) obscures both the serial number and fin markings. I'm guessing though that it's a Mk2 on the assumption that all the Mk1's had been modded to Mk1A's by then with the additional underwing tanks, but I could be wrong of course.
Interesting that the Flt Eng has dressed his props at 10 past 2. Ours used to opt for the 12 o'clock, but fashions change I guess. Nice to see the venerable Pig there too, a period scene indeed.
The one and only time I visited Khormaksar was in rather more edgy times. I remember watching a film outside of the OM. Half the mess were watching the movie, the other half were on duty guarding the first half...wasn't too sorry to be on our way next morning.
Couldn't agree with you more about Danny's excellent literary style- always leave them wanting more! And we do, Danny. Lots more!

Danny42C
21st Jan 2013, 22:15
Geriaviator,

Please don't wait for me. Put in your Dad's pics (next post re Lead Soldiers due tomorrow - with any luck as my broadband is u/s tfn on account of break in wireless connnection). Only managed to read Posts up to #3440 as technical wizard daughter wired-up to phone socket. Do not know if I can get this away.

(And no, do not intend to stand in freezing hall nursing laptop at my age - will wait till broadband restored). Thanks for all nice things said !

Danny

Geriaviator
22nd Jan 2013, 14:45
Danny, glad to hear it's only an electronic problem, Desmond my QFI warned me never to trust those black boxes as they would let me down just when I slipped into relying on them. I'll post the story when the weather improves enough for photography. So take your time, like good whisky your tales improve with age!

Chugalug, another Hastings story on the way. The Pig (Vickers Valetta to some) was used to service the various operations up country (ie the Radfan and Yemen). Then as now the local people gave us a warm welcome, I remember a Brigand mainplane with a one-inch hole on the underside. The crew at 2000ft heard a thump just before a huge exit hole appeared on the top, the culprit an Arab with his jezail muzzle-loader. Now for the first of the promised pictures:

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/overturn_zps9050781e.jpg

When 142 and 12 Sqns flew into Aldergrove, Co Antrim, for their 1938 armaments camp they found a very boggy grass airfield. Three Harts overturned on landing and a couple of others were damaged.

Engineers of the time well knew that acetate dope was irresistible to cattle and my father snapped this herd which normally kept the grass short. The Hart was written off anyway so they were allowed to get on with their dietary supplement.

Much later I was to learn that sheep are much better mowers. They keep the grass much shorter, they don't trample it into ruts, and best of all their output is ... well, firmer. My lesson was to wash an Aztec which had flown three hours after splashing through cowpats, ample time to bake it solid.

However, nothing goes to waste and impecunious airfield operators have a recipe for runway markings: Cut end from 40gl oil drum. Half fill with water, mix in 1/2cwt lime, add three buckets fresh cow s**t, mix thoroughly. Apply with yard brush, will last until next year's CAA inspection. One might say that runway number 2 has a whole new meaning, but I'd better not.

Oh, the gems one can find contained in this thread. :bored:

Danny42C
22nd Jan 2013, 16:41
Geriaviator,

Broadband all singin' all dancin' again. Sad pic (happy one for the cows !) Never knew that "dope" turned cows on, stands to reason I suppose - the things I'm learning from this Thread at my age !

Your Desmond was right. Always remember: "A Black Box has no fear of Death" ! The Brigand story reminds me of a verse of Kipling:

A Schneider cracked in a thicket,
Someone giggled and fled.
And the men of the 1st Shikaris
Picked up their officer dead,
With a big blue mark on his forehead
And the back blown out of his head.

("The Grave of the Hundred Head" - what we would call a War Crime in our more enlightened days).

Next instalment soon, I hope,

Danny.

Danny42C
22nd Jan 2013, 18:12
But this time it was a perfectly innocuous call from the Stationmaster concerning a kitbag which an airman had put in for carriage by rail. There was nothing at all unusual about this. A chap on posting, or going on demob, might well send a full kitbag home a few days before his move. It eased his baggage problems on the day, and he could have the bag sent on to him after he got to the other end.

I can't remember what the Stationmaster's problem was, but the Adj sent a SP we had down to sort it out. Of course it had to be our benefactor's kitbag, and the SP found it extraordinarily heavy, although not unduly bulky. And now the baggage staff recalled that this was by no means the first such kitbag that our man had despatched. The SP's whiskers twitched.

The consignee's address was checked out - although it looked like a normal domestic address, it was in fact a scrapyard. The kitbag was locked with a standard kitbag lock (ask Great/Grandad). The padlock was only a Woolworth's job, the Luggage Office had a big box of old keys, the bag was soon open. There was about half-a-hundredweight of small lead ingots inside, each swathed in a padding of old newspaper. The SIB were onto it like terriers after a rat.

Our lad had to do some swift talking when he got back. But then he talked to some purpose. It was all lead sheathing surplus from the toy soldier enterprise. The stuff was all thrown away, wasn't it ? Nobody wanted it, did they ? Nobody had bothered with it, or troubled to recover it except him. He'd done all the work, hadn't he ? Why should he not have the benefit of it ? How could this be theft ?

There was much force in this argument: most people were sympathetic. Jolly good luck to the lad. More power to his elbow. The SIB hesitated, irresolute. They made no move to charge him (or his three companions in crime, who would naturally have had a small share of the profit from the lead sales). But you know how deeply suspicious these people can be. They looked around, and their gaze fell on the old Operations Block. It would do no harm to have a look.

They got the power and lights on. At first sight, everything seemed "all present & correct". But then they turned on the stop-cock, and hurriedly turned it off again, for fountains had erupted all over the place. Investigation showed that much of the easily reached domestic lead piping had been removed (including that vital bit between overhead cistern and seat).

Now he was for the High Jump - but not beaten yet. He stoutly maintained that all "his" lead had come from stripped cable. As for the Ops Block, he knew nothing at all about that. Some Person or Persons Unknown had Done This. ("Nothin' to do with me, Guv"). His three confederates went into Three-Wise-Monkey mode. The SIB got no change out of them at all. Nevertheless, they charged him with theft. The AOC granted a Court Martial. Up to this time, I'd chuckled happily, like everyone else, at every stage in this enthralling story, but then something happened which wiped the chuckle off my face.

He asked for me as his Defending Officer.

Of course, no officer can refuse such a request. I borrowed the Orderly Room copies of KRs and MAFL, wrapped a cold towel round my head, and set to work.
After looking at the case from all angles that I could think off, I consulted my client, who was, IIRC, in Open Arrest, and was dismayed to learn that he intended to plead "Not Guilty". I think he relied on me to pull off some "Perry Mason" stunt, and get him off on a technicality.

And I had to admit that his case was not without merit. The evidence against him was wholly circumstantial. Nobody had seen him breaking and entering the Ops Block. He had made no admission to the SIB. There was an awful lot of this buried cable about the place. His story was not altogether unbelievable. In a civil Criminal Court (where the Prosecution has to prove guilt: it is not for the Defence to prove innocence - or at least that is the general idea) - he might yet stand a chance

How will our hero escape Justice ? Place your order with the Newsagent.

Until next time, then.

Danny42C.


A Daniel come to judgment !

Schiller
23rd Jan 2013, 13:13
Yes, indeed, Danny. But perhaps even more so:-

A scrimmage in a Border Station-
A canter down some dark defile
Two thousand pounds of education
Drops to a ten-rupee jezail.
The Crammer's boast, the Squadron's pride,
Shot like a rabbit in a ride!

(Arithmetic on the Frontier - Kipling)

Danny42C
23rd Jan 2013, 14:22
Schiller,

Well quoted, Sir - "The odds are on the cheaper man" - as true today in Afghanistan as ever in Kipling's time.

In my book, Kipling ranks next to Shakespeare (or indeed to your illustrious namesake).

Danny.

Danny42C
24th Jan 2013, 17:58
But Courts Martial may be daft, but they're not stupid. They tend to apply the commonsense test, that of the "Man on the Clapham Omnibus". And the M.O.T.C.O. would convict out of hand, of that I was sure. Of my man's guilt, I was absolutely certain. Yet my duty in MAFL was clear. Whatever my own opinion might be, I must put forward the accused's case to the Court to the best of my ability, but MAFL grimly warns that: "he (the Defending Officer) is not to concoct a defence ." Any half way effective defence I could think of would have to be concocted. It would likely to be worse for him in the end. Courts do not like being messed-about and having their time wasted with cock-and-bull stories - and this may be remembered in sentence !

Whereas, if he'd take my advice, plead "Guilty", and throw himself on the mercy of the Court, I could put in quite an impressive Plea in Mitigation of Sentence. It was a first offence. He had honestly thought that the old Ops Block had been abandoned (like so many other wartime structures). I could cite all his excellent charitable works (even if they had merely served as cover for his nefarious operations). He had been dropped on the head as a baby. He was depressed because the family budgie had died (you know the sort of thing).

Yet he remained adamant in his intention to plead "Not Guilty". His reasoning was: If I plead "Guilty", I may well go down for a few months (the estimate for repairs to the Ops Block was at least £ 5,000), whereas there's a slim chance I may get off with a plea of "Not Guilty" (I thought not ). The Summary of Evidence was taken; this only confirmed my expectation of the final outcome.

And then, almost "on the steps of the Court", the Prosecution abandoned the case.and withdrew the charge. Why ? No reason was given then, and to this day I have never been able to get an answer. A very relieved young man was demobbed with an "Excellent" service conduct sheet, and his Defending Officer was happy to have been spared his day in Court (the Ops block was never used again anyway and was demolished a few years later). The chap's name ? (Never mind !)

In the May of 1950 my Bond "Minicar" was ready for collection, and I went to Preston to pick it up. I was on wheels again. Coincidentally, petrol rationing ended on the 26th of that month (Google). I could write reams about the "Bond", but that would be right off Thread. Suffice to say that it was a perfectly functional vehicle for the conditions of the time (quite unlike that ridiculous Sinclair C-5 which appeared a few years ago). I ran it for 30,000 miles over four years and I was never actually stranded with it, although bits broke and fell off from time to time (but that was no surprise to any owner of any British car of that era). Wiki gives a very fair account of the Bonds; I saw them running around till the mid-'70s.

As with my dive-bombing experience, I shall give one detailed account of our Y6 "job" which will stand for all the others. You were required "on station" at 6,000 ft with your Spitfire from 1400-1600. The "beat" ran from Barmouth to Aberdovey (some 20 miles) with a procedure turn at each end. At endurance speed one complete circuit would take about 20 minutes, the Terriers would have 12 "firing passes" with a two-minute break in between as the aircraft was turning. We had no R/T communication at all with the gunners.

If you've seen one Welsh mountain, you've seen 'em all. And when you've seen the same one a dozen times in an afternoon, four afternoons a week, for a month or two, the sight tends to pall. Add in a good lunch in the Mess, the warm sun streaming through the canopy and the muted purr of your Merlin running at 1800, you might well drop off even if you hadn't been counting the sheep on the slopes of Cader Idris.

As the next stop would be an impact on good Welsh granite, or a splash-down in chilly Cardigan Bay, it was advisable to remain awake. The preferred method was to take up a paperback. You trimmed the Spit to fly S&L, aimed it at the far end of your beat, and set the D.I. at zero. Most people managed a page per 8-minute run, with a glance at D.I. and A.H. at the end of each paragraph. (I should perhaps add that in those days there was very little air traffic over North Wales).

At the end of your two-hour shift, it was back to the Mess for tea. The old coal ranges in our kitchen made perfect toast on their (nearly) red hot tops: with a lot of butter and jam it was food for the Gods. But it was a case of "first come, first served". All afternoon your Merlin had been running slowly under low boost. The plugs must need blowing out ! Up to 2850, nine pounds boost, nose down from 6,000, and "Home, James" past Harlech castle and Portmeirion across Caernarvon Bay at 250 knots.

Tearing over the Lleyn peninsula, the bee-line ran a few miles east of Pwllheli. The swimming pool of Butlin's camp lay exactly at the right angle to catch the late afternoon sun, it blazed like an enormous sapphire aginst the green hills. Then over to Valley to get to the Mess before all the toast had gone !

Enough for the moment to restore this Thread to its rightful position,

Good night, all,

Danny42C.


Action This Day.

Geriaviator
25th Jan 2013, 12:42
http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Hart_zps9d2c46cd.jpg

Another bleeding Hart, this time at Andover, 1938. The ground crew seem to have anticipated most situations, taking with them a spare undercarriage assembly as well as the recovery trailer. The tail is pulled down by the rope attached to the truck at left.
Top right, same place, same year: Vickers Wellesley which in 1938 flew 7,100 miles from Egypt to Australia, taking two days non-stop, a single-engine record which stands to this day. The aircraft was designed under Barnes Wallis's geodetic principles, as was the later Wellington. The Wellesley operated in Africa and the Middle East until 1942.
Lower right: Handley Page Harrow, designed as a bomber but used as 20-seat transport until the Dakota took over.

Danny42C
25th Jan 2013, 17:16
Geriaviator,

Once again, thank you for the interesting pics. It is sobering to think that that same summer two sixteen year olds (a cousin and I), propped on our bikes, were looking longingly over the fence at aircraft flying from Wyton.

Looked up the "Harrow"; Wiki led me to the Long Aerial Mine - a hare-brained idea if ever I heard one - of which I knew absolutely nothing. Worth a look.

Danny.

Chugalug2
25th Jan 2013, 20:35
Danny, you do yourself an injustice in claiming that you would have lost your case had not the charge been withdrawn. Like your hapless client I would have the utmost confidence in your powers of persuasion. As to concocted, one man's concocted is another's brilliant presentation of the facts!
Intriguing though that the case was dropped, for the "Three Musketeers" were seemingly banged to rights. I wonder if your man had pleaded guilty, as he logically should have, if the case would still have been dropped. Perhaps he did himself (and his accomplices) a favour by defying both logic and you. Despite your respect for the evidence (was it termed a Summary or an Abstract, I'm not sure) gathered, there must have been some glitch in it, don't you think? Perhaps Exhibit "A" went to the great smelter in the ski after all, or the RAFP had got the direction wrong in the "I was proceeding in an Easterly direction when...". We shall, I fear never know.
Geriaviator, your pictures are amazing! I can't help thinking that the RAF Museum would be very keen to add copies of them to their collection. Other than "official" photos, I'm not sure that there were many taken privately in that era, other than at the Hendon Air Shows, etc. Was it your Dad's hobby? I mean did he develop and print them as well, or was all that done by the local chemist?
The RAF seems to have got through a prodigious quantity of Harts ("Bleeding" or otherwise ;-) it would seem. You'd think that someone would have travelled ahead, or even rung ahead, before launching three of them towards a would be bog, but perhaps that would have detracted from the operational realism of the exercise! Even in those days Aldergrove would have boasted a signal square, would it not? Didn't that indicate if the grass landing area was fit for use or not? I suppose the advice would be to "land between the wet patches" anyway. Danny?
Two days airborne, single engined, long sea crossings? Respect!

Geriaviator
25th Jan 2013, 21:56
Glad you liked them, Danny, a few more to come. Your teenage Wyton visit brought to mind the Ethiopian Air Force goodwill visit to Khormaksar in 1952 with their 12 Saab B-17 dive bombers (no, not the Fortress, a tubby single-engine job like the VV). Half of them fouled their plugs and this little boy was in seventh heaven with 28 plugs per Twin Wasp to dismantle and clean.

The flash point of petrol was way below the Aden ambient while goodness knows what the fumes were doing to my little lungs. Elf 'n' Strafeme would have a fit but we didn't know about the perils in those days. My reward was to sit in the back while the brute was taxied up and down the runway. The goodwill visit lasted for some weeks as half the squadron went u/s, there were dark whispers that the clever Ethiopians knew they would get a major overhaul if they could coax the beasts from Addis Ababa to Khormaksar.

On another subject, ITV produced a superb documentary called Bomber Command to mark the Memorial unveiling in 2010. If anyone wants a copy, strictly for personal use of course, drop me a PM.

Chugalug, the pics have been offered to IWM London and RAF Hendon, no reply ... Dad was just an amateur with his 25s camera but his prints clean up very well in Photoshop. In fact the French ones measure under 3ins x 2ins. Your promised Hastings story is on the stocks, or should I say in final assembly hangar.

Danny42C
26th Jan 2013, 17:29
Chugalug,

I'm fairly certain that it was a "Summary" in those days, and that "Abstract" came later. (In the same way "Courts" became "Boards" of Inquiry - to conceal the fact that they were really out for blood, just the same).

I am not sure about what they would have on a Signal Square in '38 (I think they had them then). Later, IIRC, the "dumb-bells" would have black bars on them to indicate that you must use them as the grass was u/s (and of course, you must stay on the tarmac after landing).

As you say, we'll never know where the Fatal Flaw was in the Prosecution Case. I couldn't spot one, and reckoned that we were on a hiding to nothing......D.


Geriaviator,

Confession: When we first saw you in #3438 (20 Jan), we said "Doesn't he look young to be an airman ?" (as you were in normal airmen's working kit for the tropics). However, as it is often said, you know you're growing old when the policemen start looking younger (and even older when the Popes start looking younger), so we didn't do the arithmetic.

It now seems that the RAF was employing child labour (in contravention of Lord knows how many Statutes of the Realm - and probably of the Geneva Convention as well). And not only that, but contracting you out to the service of a Foreign Power ! How did they get away with it ? And were you suitably rewarded ?

(Cleaning plugs ! How well I remember (when a two-stroke stops, it's always the plug !) Did they have that clever bit of kit with a bunch of steel needles in a tube which screwed onto the end of the plug and you shook up and down ?
Happy days !......(Now let's hear a lot more of your story........D.

Cheers to you both,

Danny.

Danny42C
27th Jan 2013, 17:53
The next thing was the '50 AOC's Inspection. Station Parade rehearsals were ordered to smarten us up a bit. The Wing Commander had an idea. A Band might improve matters on the rehearsals - but we had no band. So why not select a gramophone record of some stirring march? The radio mechs could wire the turntable into the Tannoy down at the Flights; all we need now is somebody who can hear the order "March" and simultaneously drop the needle into the spinning groove. I was appointed Disc Jockey.

Of course it was a miserable failure. With the best will in the world, the Tannoy would boom out half a beat behind the order; it would take about twenty paces of utter chaos before they got back in step again, and with all the change-steps it sounded (as the SWO graphically described it: "like a cow slapping"). The idea was quickly abandoned, and IIRC, they managed to borrow a band from somewhere (the Army ?) for the big day. Our record ? - "Milanello". (Wiki says it is the Regimental March of the 2nd Battn, Coldstream Guard, and as far as I'm concerned they're welcome to it). As far as I remember, the Inspection passed off all right . I only recall the Parade standing at ease on a warm, calm morning, in absolute silence as the Comm Flight Anson (bearing His Airship) touched down.

One day I had a high trip over the Bay for Tonfanau (28,000 ft), and for the life of me I can't remember what I was supposed to do, or why I had a Spitfire instead of one of the Vampires which normally did all our upper-air work. I was in good time and climbing slowly and steadily, pushing the throttle open bit by bit to keep the power coming.

Suddenly there was this enormous bang, the boost gauge shot up and down to settle several pounds higher and a savage snarl replaced the Merlin's previous gentle murmur. It was several seconds before I realised that the engine was not about to blow up, but that the aneroid controlled switch had thrown and clutched-in the two-stage supercharger. I pulled the knob on the quadrant back to "M" gear and all was quiet and peaceful again.

As we never flew much above 10,000 ft in the Spit XVIs, either there or on my '49 refresher at Finningley, "S" gear had never been needed, and we left the control in "Auto" all the time, as that left the knob up at the front of the quadrant and well out of the way. Here I must put on record that no Spitfire ever did me any harm: any times they scared me it was entirely of my own doing !

Enough for the moment - Goodnight, all.

Danny42C.


Cheer up - it may never happen.

Fareastdriver
27th Jan 2013, 19:41
Parade standing at ease on a warm, calm morning, in absolute silence as the Comm Flight Anson (bearing His Airship) touched down.

We had the same thing at Honington except that the AOC came from HQ 3 Group at Mildenhall, some 10 miles in a straight line. He considered that the only way to arrive at a station was down the centre line. To this end he would be chaffeured from his office to a 3 group Comms Anson in his staff Jaguar Mk3. Once the door was closed and the engines started the Jaguar would go into Monte Carlo Rallye mode and hurl down the lanes of Suffolk to be at Honington when th AOC arrived.

Blacksheep
28th Jan 2013, 12:20
Ah VIP arrivals!
HM Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother was to present a new standard to, I think it was 50 Sqn. On the probability that it would rain, one poor airman was assigned to umbrella duty and the SWO set to work training him. The CO's car went round and endlessly round, stopping at the marked spot each time, when the umbrella man would step forward smartly, open the passenger door and raise the umbrella. He mastered the performance perfectly (Well, with the SWO's close personal attention he would, wouldn't he?)

The day dawned; as expected it was raining. The AOC's staff car picked up HM as she deplaned at Station Flight and conveyed her to the Squadron offices. Umbrella man stepped forward smartly, whipped open the door and erected the umbrella all in one smoothly executed movement. The Queen Mum opened the other door, stepped out and walked round the back of the car.

Such is life in a blue suit. :)

Geriaviator
28th Jan 2013, 18:55
Yes Danny, I was 11 when the Hastings photo was taken, and I was indeed put into service of a foreign power, but never was a child more willing to be exploited. The great Ethiopian Air Force breakdown occurred on a Friday afternoon when the Saabs were due to return to Addis Ababa.

The resulting Saturday and Sunday work for hapless National Servicemen was my good fortune, for I was forbidden to enter Flying Wing during the week. := Weekends with their absence of brass were another matter and my father's airmen spoiled me rotten, undoubtedly because their own little brothers were far away. My reward was the navigator's seat during runup of Saab or Brigand, if I was lucky a taxi ride which often involved lifting the tail down Khormaksar's baked gypsum runway.

None of your hi-tech cleaning gadgets, Danny. My spark plug cleaning tools were one bowl, enamelled, shaving, filled with petrol, an old paintbrush, and a small screwdriver ground to fit into the plug body and hoke out the crud.

Of course I was severely traumatised by these experiences which have resulted in my obsession with aircraft ever since. Indeed I feel a damages claim coming on, so while I consult m'learned friends, here are more pictures which an enthusiastic young airman (my father) took during his first posting to Andover in 1938:

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/Andovergroup_zpsf31c86f5.jpg

Top left: Faithful Annie, an early Anson with its manually operated turret. Right: Miles Magister primary trainer, contemporary with the Tiger Moth. It has not proved as durable because its wooden construction delaminated with distressing result. Not so the Dragon Rapide G-AEML in the background: bought new by Wrightways of Croydon in 1936, it was impressed into RAF war service, back to civil use in 1946, and is still flying with the Fundacion Infante de Orleans, an aviation museum in Madrid.
Bottom left: Bristol Blenheim Mk 1 with all-glass nose. Right: Gloster Gauntlet fighter. Looking at the lower two, perhaps it was a wise decision to appease Hitler in 1938, giving time to produce Hurricanes and Spitfires.

pbeach
29th Jan 2013, 13:38
I don't know if the news has been posted on here yet, but please raise a glass in memory of fredjhh who took part in this thread. A pilot who served with 51 Sqdn, crashed in Belgium in June 1943 and was then a prisoner of war. You can find some memories of his life on you tube, posted by his family. Here is the link:

Fred Heathfield's Life in Pictures by Anna Roseblade - YouTube

RIP Fred.

Taphappy
29th Jan 2013, 15:15
What a wonderful tribute to a great guy who made so many great contributions to this thread.
My thoughts and sympathy are with his family.
Rest in Peace Fred.

Union Jack
29th Jan 2013, 15:37
What a stunning tribute, both pictorially and musically, by a justifiably proud family.

Very dusty atmosphere too for the time of year .....

Jack

Danny42C
29th Jan 2013, 16:36
I feel honoured and privileged to have shared Posts with Fred on this Thread. My family and I are deeply saddened by the news of his death. Fred and I are among the last members of that happy band who can truly say: "We were with Harry....on Crispin's Day".

We extend our deepest sympathy to his family, and will remember them in our prayers. We thank them for this beautiful tribute to his life.

Danny, my wife Iris and our daughter Mary,

Requiem aeternam dona eum, Domine, Requiescat in Pace.

Icare9
29th Jan 2013, 21:05
... as Jack says..... lovely tribute <sniff> and so much dust
2nd November last year, but better now than never...
RIP fredjhh and thanks for all the posts, they will live on and keep your memory fresh....

Danny42C
1st Feb 2013, 00:06
And now September was on the horizon and there were two small problems ahead The first would be my Examination "B", postponed from March, which I now had to take early in the month. And looming behind that was an even scarier prospect - the Battle of Britain At Home Open Day on a Saturday afternoon in mid-month. Every year most RAF Stations were butchered to provide a public holiday - or that's what it felt like to be the reluctant hosts on these occasions.

Setting aside the numbers of pilots killed training for, or performing in the various aerobatic displays on the day (which, so the rumour went, was fast approaching the number killed in the actual battle itself), these affairs were an administrative and logistical nightmare. On the flying side, if you had a well-practised "party piece" on your unit (which let us out !), you were in duty bound to go round with it to as many other Stations as you could reasonably fit into the afternoon. The grateful recipients' ATC would then have to integrate your Show with all the other acts that had been offered to them, and compose their Flying Programme for the day.

Everbody sent as many of their "own" aircraft as they could spare to other places, where they would be novelties, for static display, (and naturally Spitfires were in demand everywhere, Vampires not far behind). Only having one Beau, we hung on to that. We managed to get (IIRC) a Lincoln, a Meteor and a Mosquito. With our own Spitfire, Beau and Vampire we had quite a respectable line up to show the public. A second Spitfire would do LL flypasts and climbing rolls; the Tiger could do the ever-popular "crazy flying" act to fill in gaps in the flying programme.

The people who were flying our Spitfires and Vampires away for static display elsewhere now had the new-fangled Civil Airways system to contend with. As all our normal flying was over Anglesey or the NW coast of Wales, this normally troubled us very little. The occasional Harvard trip to 12 Gp. at Newton was flown VMC under the airways.

There was very little other air traffic in the area in those days, apart from one of the very first airways (Amber whatisit ?) between Speke and Collinstown. The only user was an elderly DC-3 which plodded twice daily along the route (which incidentally cut straight across Valley's "Safety Lane", or vice versa, whichever way you look at it): we took no notice of that at all.

The very idea of "Controlled Airspace", into which RAF aircraft could enter only with permission, seemed preposterous to us in the early '50s. Who did these people think they were, to say that every RAF pilot, in an RAF aircraft, did not have the absolute right to fly all over His Majesty's domains (which the RAF had so recently and so valiantly defended) where and as often as he pleased, and to alight wherever he wished, without "let or hindrance" ? Those were the days !

All this was apart from the mundane requirements of all such events: car parking, Public Address announcements, collection points for lost children, Portaloos (or whatever served the purpose if they had not been invented), St. John's Ambulance for minor scrapes, etc. Fortunately NAAFI jealously guarded their monopoly to feed and water the horde of visitors which was likely to descend on us - free entertainment being in short supply in that area - so they looked after that side of the business.

But for us there would be more to it than that. Enough for the moment, though.

Goodnight all,

Danny42C


Goodbye, Fred (RIP).

Geriaviator
1st Feb 2013, 08:54
Ah Danny ... those golden Battle of Britain Days in early September. As a lineup of Lincolns, Merlins crackling and growling, slowly inched towards the runway for the Operational Takeoff, my father told me to remember the sight and sound for I would never see one again. I can still see the Lincolns thundering off Binbrook's runway as their forebears, the Lancasters, had done so only five years earlier.

So I was delighted this morning to hear from Ray Whiteley, whom I visited at Binbrook in September, that his long-awaited memorial project has come to fruition. The Lincolnshire Wolds are a lovely part of the world and fellow Prunes will find Binbrook worth a visit.

A two-acre site on the former airfield has passed into private ownership, thus ensuring its continued existence as a memorial to bomber crews.
Opened in 1940, RAF Binbrook saw many operational types flying from its airfield on top of the Wolds and was for a time the home of 460 (RAAF) Squadron under the command of Wing Commander Hughie Edwards VC.

Operating Lancaster bombers over enemy-occupied Europe, 460 Squadron suffered typically heavy losses and site custodian Ray Whiteley has long made it his goal to turn the RAF Binbrook Heritage Centre into a lasting memorial to the lost aircrew.

To this end, he has built the 460 Squadron Royal Australian Air Force Identification Square Memorial and the Hughie Edwards VC Memorial and has carried out extensive tree planting to form the Bomber Command Memorial Park. Trees have been planted in Fairey Battle, Wellington and Lancaster Avenues with each tree representing a crew member of those particular aircraft types who failed to return.

The land, formerly the site of RAF Binbrook's air traffic control tower and fire section until their demolition after the station closed in 1989, has also for some years been the home of the Lightning Association's English Electric Lightning F6 XR724, a preserved example of the iconic Cold War fighter in full engine-running condition. Another Lightning, T5 XS457, also stored at the site in component parts, is awaiting reassembly. A small museum houses numerous aircraft artefacts, some of which have been found by Ray during exploration of the site, and photos of former RAF Binbrook aircraft and personnel.

Commemorative benches are placed amongst the trees and Ray reports a steady stream of UK and overseas visitors who come to visit the place from where their relatives flew operational missions.

Until recently, however, the land was owned by the company Winchester Marine who, whilst generously allowing Ray and the Lightning Association to occupy and develop the site, were unable to offer long-term security of tenure. The transfer was recently concluded and Ray and Charles Ross are now very happy in the knowledge that the memorial to the brave bomber crews and RAF Binbrook's association with the famous Lightning fighter are preserved forever.
For further information on the RAF Binbrook Heritage Centre, please visit website www.binbrook.demon.co.uk (http://www.binbrook.demon.co.uk).

fredjhh
1st Feb 2013, 09:56
No, not Fred - his daughter on his iMac. Dad sadly died on November 2nd after a debilitating struggle with bronchiectasis - having been a lifelong hater of smoking this was particularly cruel. I am slowly going through all sorts of notes and accounts with passwords he left for me - always so meticulous. My greatest fear is that I shall throw away something of value (sentimental/historical) from his great collection of war memorabilia. My father wrote his memoirs down which we are having self published. I'm not sure if anyone would be interested in reading this. We don't intend making profit from it but in order to cover costs it will possibly cost around £20 (it is no small tome...277 pages and A4 size). PM me on Dad's account if you'd like to know more. Also, if anyone has any suggestions for an organisation that might be interested in looking through some of the paperwork I'd be keen to hear. Margaret

fredjhh
1st Feb 2013, 10:04
Fred's family thank you all for your LOVELY comments. He lived with us in the annexe for 8 years so we have a HUGE hole in our lives and we miss him terribly. We are having a memorial service in St Giles Church Bredon, Gloucestershire on March 3rd at 10am to inter his ashes with my beloved mum. The British Legion plan to give him a bit of a send off I believe! Anyone able to get there is most welcome.

Bushfiva
1st Feb 2013, 11:29
You can self-publish as an ebook on Amazon, for example. You have no risk of carrying inventory. You get a 35-70% royalty; you must charge between $3 and $10 (in the US). It's another option for you to consider. It's a great way of getting limited print runs out there without up-front costs and a garage full of books.

Good memories of Fred.

cockney steve
1st Feb 2013, 12:39
Margaret, I'm so sorry for your loss. Fred would probably have been the first to say he'd had a good innings and ,no doubt, quietly chuckled at the irony of the illness to which he succumbed.
The world of PPrune will be emptier and quieter without him.

i am so pleased he saw fit to share so much with us here. So many war-veterans kept a stiff upper lip to the end and their knowledge and memories died with them. -my own father was in the Merchant Navy in WW1 and was .apparently blind as a result of that service. I never could get anything much out of him. so the reminiscences of the contributors like Fred, become all the more important.

It's marvellous you have the prescence of mind to think carefully before clearing-out.having dealt with 2 deaths recently, I shovelled everything into plastic crates and stored until the family can objectively evaluate.
Once discarded, it's usually gone forever.
Good wishes, I.m sure your Dad would be pleased that you logged-in to let us know he'd departed for blue skies.

Chugalug2
1st Feb 2013, 21:37
Margaret, thank you for posting here. I too would like to offer you and your family my condolences in your sad loss. I should also like to endorse Steve's point about the importance of this thread and its contributors such as your Dad for the children of that amazing war time generation. Through your Dad and his fellow orators we learn something of what followed when called up for the "duration of hostilities"

Rest in Peace, dear Fred... "This is the happy Warrior; this is He that every Man in arms should wish to be."

smujsmith
1st Feb 2013, 21:55
“God's finger touched him, and he slept.”

Alfred Lord Tennyson


Thanks Fred for the,pleasure of your commentary.

Smudge

Danny42C
3rd Feb 2013, 22:38
Then there would be a third tier of attractions, for there was a sort of Garden Fête "free-for-all" atmosphere for all sorts of "side stalls", official ones like recruiting stands, and the usual unofficial "Hoop-las", "Coconut Shies" and the like. An officer or SNCO was detailed to keep an eye on, and act as general facilitator for each of these.

So it was that I was appointed official guardian to the "Mrs Hughes-Williams' Troupe of Welsh Folk Dancers". On the face of it this seemed likely to be a pleasant assignment. But the devil, as always, was in the detail. Detail No.1 was that the Troupe consisted of 12 - 15 girls aged from about 8 to 12. Detail No.2 was Mrs Hughes-Williams herself: and she was not to be trifled with. A County Councillor, prominent member of Anglesey society, and (IIRC) she was from a military family where subalterns were expected to be seen and not heard.

As if all this was not enough, there was Detail No.3. The performances ideally required a small but level "sprung" floor to give of their best. It so happened that Valley had a transportable sectional boxing ring which was suitable for the purpose. The problem was where to put it up. If it were pouring down, obviously in a hangar. But in bright sunshine, much better in the open air. And the decision to assemble had to be made at the last possible moment, which meant that I had to keep my working party together and defend my chaps against all attempts to "borrow" them by other sections (I "pulled rank" on the SWO mercilessly).

It is well said of Valley that you can have four seasons in one day - and all of them winter. That morning, it was belting down; a cold front was coming through. But the Met man swore by all his Gods that the clearance would come at lunchtime. For once he got it right. Promptly at 1200 a beautiful blue rain-washed sky came in from the West. I'd held the assembly decision back to the last possible moment: now there was just enough time to erect the Ring in the open air position, before kick-off at 1400 (I don't think anybody got much lunch that day).

Everything ran like clockwork after that. Their coach turned up on time. We had the Ring up in position, levelled and decorated with a bit of bunting. They had their accordianist with them. A warm sun shone brightly. Even the wind dropped. And the dancers did look charming, in full Welsh folk costume with their little black cloaks and witch's hats.

I cannot now remember how many performances they were scheduled to give, but there were obviously long rest periods. In these the performers mixed with the crowds, where they were great favourites, being in particular demand for adding local colour to photographs, for which service they naturally expected a tip (I believe 6d was the going rate). They did quite well on that basis.

There may yet be folk who believe "St. Trinian's" to be a work of fiction. I have news for them. The little witches got into all the devilment they could find, the prize going to a small one found using the pitot head of the display Spitfire as a swing ! - while the airman on guard was fending off others.

One thing we did not have - Air Training Corps cadets among the crowd, rattling collection tins for the RAF Benevolent Fund. I know this is a Very Good Cause, and it was done on most of the "At Home" Days in later years, but I always thought it demeaning and the Cadets must have hated it.

Goodnight, chaps.

Danny 42C


Bless 'em All.

smujsmith
4th Feb 2013, 20:31
Please excuse the thread drift but Danny has awakened memories that should raise a smile or two here and there.

The Lancaster, as a momento.

I once was privileged to work as a team leader on Field Repair Squadron (FRS) the old 71 MU at RAF Abingdon. I was tasked as gang boss on the team who were to overhaul the wings of PA474, at Abingdon. A real bonus as most of our jobs involved weeks away from home. The job was scheduled for around 6 months duration, and would involve removing all structure from the mainplanes down to the main and rear spars, removal of corrosion from the spars and the rebuild, by replacement, of all structure removed for access. At Abingdon we had the only Station Workshops who could manufacture replacement structure up to primary structure. They were exceptionally good.

The job was very interesting, I discovered that our Lancaster had a Lincoln undercarriage, and across the wing Merlins of various Mks and output. All adding to my admiration of the aircrew in keeping it going.

As a result of our "deconstruction" of the wings, we found ourselves in possession of a large amount of genuine Lancaster structure, that someone suggested would make good "souvineers", suitably cut to a reasonable size and mounted on a piece of varnished wood, a certificate would complete the ensemble, adding to its attractiveness at the coming Battle of Britain at home day. The B of B organisers decided this was a good idea and so every piece of Lanc, was sent to Station Workshops for duplication (for rebuild) and mounting (for sale at B of B). FRS however had Cat3 repairs going on all over the UK, and bits of metal various were turning up from all over. To my certain knowledge many Canberra structural samples were "added" unwittingly to the growing pile of Lancaster souvineers. It was always a source of fun to me and the 50 plus tradesmen who worked on the project that someone would be very proud of their bit of Lanc, which was really a bit of Canberra. Suffice to say I paid £10 myself for a bit, and have no idea of its provenance. So much for horse meat in Beefburgers !!!

Smudge :)

Chugalug2
4th Feb 2013, 20:48
Danny, your Welsh Folk Country Dancing dance floor assembly team were obviously honed to the highest peak of efficiency. Perhaps with a little more imagination, the pride of Mrs Hughes-Williams might have been the centre piece of a display to rival anything that the Senior Service put on at the Royal Tournament. A similar set up involving ramparts, narrow gaps, and the obligatory crocodile infested river, with the troupe performing on each bank having been transported from one to the other by a suitable system of A frames, blocks and tackles, together with the disassembled dance floor, could have brought fame and fortune to all involved. Who knows where it might have led? The Royal Air Force Dance Floor Race, with opposing teams from each Command? Alas, we will never know. Another "might have been" in the space time continuum...

Danny42C
4th Feb 2013, 22:27
Smudge,

It's "Danny" actually (only mentioning it as there is another "Paddy" (Padhist) on strength, but he hasn't posted on this Thread for a while)........D.

Chugalug,

What a captivating entertainment you bring to mind ! Besides Mrs H-W's Troupe of little witches, there would have to be ferocious fire-breathing * Welsh dragons to be slain, Bards, Druids,...... the lot..... Stage set - papier maché copy of Caernarvon Castle........ Music? - The Fron Male Voice Choir!...... Villain? - Edward I !..... Hero? - Owen Glendower !...... Should go like a bomb at the Box Office !

Danny.

* If H&S permits

smujsmith
4th Feb 2013, 22:34
Danny, my sincere apologies. I have amended the post and thanks for putting me right.

Smudge:ugh:

Danny42C
6th Feb 2013, 22:52
The afternoon passed off without any major disasters, the crowd oohed and aahed over the flying displays, the Tiger being as always a favourite (we may have had the "old-tramp-pinches-aircraft-left-ticking-over-while-pilot-goes-for-ice-cream" routine, but I'm not sure). My Welsh Folk Dancers gave their last performance; the Station Commander (who knew what was good for him) making a particular point of thanking Mrs H-W profusely for her and her girls' efforts; their coach driver was found (not, I trust, in the Beer Tent), and off they went. The afternoon was adjudged a complete success.

Our visiting static displays refuelled and went home. Our own came back. My first task was, of course, to round up my crew, dismantle the Ring and return it to store - for it would surely rain over the weekend. Then, and only then, could I dismiss them and go back to the Mess for a well-earned half-pint (or perhaps two).

The British (well Welsh) public were no better in their day than their counterparts are today in the matter of dumping litter. Our only advantage was that plastic bags had not yet been invented. After 48 hours, the standing Valley gale would have redistributed most of the paper bags all over Anglesey, but bottles, tins, ice cream cartons, cigarette packets and sundry rubbish remained. From Monday the clean-up began (it was just as well that we'd had our AOC's Inspection earlier in the year). It would be the next weekend before our cleaning parties made Valley half way presentable.

It was a few days after that that "Bish" (he who had left the FAA with three Seafires "confirmed" to his name) was just lifting off in a Spitfire when his port wheel left him. It went bounding off into Rhosneigr, from where it was returned to us (there being no ready market for Spitfire wheels), together with a sheaf of compensation claims. From the size and number of these it would appear that the wheel had caused unbelievable damage in the village, almost demolishing a small bungalow.

Meanwhile Bish was airborne with his peg-legged Spitfire. It was left to him what to do: he elected to do a one-wheel landing. This he executed brilliantly (reminded me of that wonderful bit of wartime film - which everybody must have seen - of a B-17 pilot doing it perfectly). Bish kept the left wing up as long as he could, and there wasn't much damage when the hub touched the tarmac, and he slewed onto the grass and it went up on its nose (just a bent blade, I think) and flopped back. He was unhurt.

And now we had the "smoking gun". The wheel had recently been changed, and of course the hub nut should have been split-pinned. Assuming a wheel race had jammed (broken ball ?), would the whole assembly have been able to rotate on the shaft, and transmit enough torque through the washer to shear the pin and spin the nut off ? (All this is half-remembered mech's chat overheard by one with no mechanical expertise and which may well be arrant nonsense - in which case I invite correction).

If that had been the case, then the remains of the pin must still be jammed in the hole in the stub axle. The hole was empty, therefore there had been no split pin. I think the offending airman got fourteen days in the House of Correction from the Station Commander in which to reflect on the importance of Split Pins.

Cheers, chaps,

Danny42C


"For the want of a nail..."

26er
7th Feb 2013, 08:39
BoB Day, St Athan, early sixties. Great flying display planned and weather kind but cool. But enough of that - the Welsh hordes were to arrive from the valleys with their families and everyone knew that the ladies would not be interested in aeroplanes! So the cunning plan was to cream them off into the station cinema for BINGO and considerably enhance the RAFBF funds, leaving dads and kids to carry on to the flightline. What could go wrong? Well, the fact that only about six stalwarts actually paid their entrance fee is what. And worse, they stayed all afternoon boring the pants off the volunteer "caller". But serve him right as it was his brilliant idea.

Union Jack
7th Feb 2013, 21:14
Danny

Your marvellous postings about life at Valley would appear to make you a strong contender for the appointment advertised at http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/507396-raf-open-pagings-vacancies.html#post7682200 - just so long as you still had time to carry on your splendid narrative here! :)

With very best wishes

Jack

Danny42C
7th Feb 2013, 22:36
Union Jack,


Jack,

I am greatly honoured by and appreciative of your recommendation of me for this post. Do you think they'd let me carry my 62 years seniority as Flt.Lt. with me into my new appointment ? And if so, what might my chances of my "scraper" be ?

(Stop Press - Mrs D. says: "Not bloody likely - We're not going back into Married Quarters again !")

So no go. Ah well. Thank you again, Jack,

Danny.

Union Jack
7th Feb 2013, 23:27
Oh well, worth a try .....:sad:

Is Mrs Danny also known as "Ayesha" by any chance - aka "She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed"?:=

Jack

BEagle
8th Feb 2013, 07:25
But Danny, these days Valley OMQs:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/ValleyMQ.jpg

are fitted with all modern conveniences:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/bog.jpg

The Valley two-holer (Yfali Twhllwr) is fitted to all Grade 3 and above MQs...:\

Union Jack
8th Feb 2013, 10:33
Now, now, BEagle - don't you go raising the Danny household's expectations, since I'm pretty sure that you've said before that these were photos of William and Kate's place .....:= Mind you, Danny could always pull a few years' seniority on William!

Jack

Danny42C
8th Feb 2013, 17:17
BEagle and Union Jack,

The first hiring offered to us at Strubby was not unlike Picture No. 1, except that it was standing in a pond. In the place we first moved into in Mablethorpe, we hadn't been in the house ten minutes before the next train load of trippers were on the doorstep, wanting to know if we did B & Bs ! (first of many financial opportunities missed).

A W/Cdr on the course at Manby stuck it out for six months in the potential B & B. We ended up, the envy of many, with the best hiring in town.

Danny.

Chugalug2
8th Feb 2013, 17:46
Danny, your tale of the "good show" of your chum Bish is a classic case of where one knows that it will all end up with a Board of Inquiry, whatever happens.
As it turned out in his favour anyway all well and good, but I wonder if it occurred to him to ask that the BoI be convened and publish its findings while he was still airborne? All that he would then have to do was to follow their recommendations to the letter and future happiness and prosperity would be assured!

Danny42C
8th Feb 2013, 18:29
Chugalug,

Too true ! Let the chap with the problem sort it out - that way anything that goes wrong must be his fault ! (it was ever thus).

Danny.

Danny42C
9th Feb 2013, 00:46
When I arrived at Valley, the official "heating season" had ended; no more coke for the room stoves until autumn. To brighten up what was to be my room, a (bricked-off) half of a Nissen hut; the previous occupant had had the stove painted black. In October, the coke ration came on again; it was a chilly evening. "Light the stove tonight before you go off", I told the batman.

After tea in the Mess I went back to my (hopefully nice, warm) room to change. When I opened the door, my first impression was that someone had hung a grey blanket over the entrance. Then the blanket rolled out on me - it was smoke ! The stove had been painted with gloss paint. Door propped wide open, the two little windows in the hut end open, and wait for the fumes to disperse. As far as I can remember, the place was unfit for habitation for a day or two, I had to get my kit out and bunk down in a spare hut.

A little of the smoke had percolated through the mortar (which was the seal between the brickwork and the corrugated iron) into my neighbour's half of the hut: he wasn't well pleased, but his part wasn't too bad. Even after I got back I stank like a kipper for ages. Yet there was a consolation - I'd passed my "B" !

Now I was a Flight Lieutenant again (for my SSC as Flying Officer came with a backdate of seniority which would satisfy the time promotion requirement when (if) I passed the "B"). But my seniority as Flt. Lt. dated only from the date of the exam. Tongue-in-cheek, I put in an official request for backdate to the previous March exam, which I had been unable to take on account of illness. Much to my surprise, they gave it to me. The next step was obvious. What about the back pay ? "Nice try", they said. Ah, well. Even so the jump (from 21/- to 24/- p.d. - a 14% increase) was not to be sneezed at.

In November, Willie Hewlett (my Flt. Commander) spotted a Supplement to some AMO or other. It seemed that a Combined Services Winter Sports Association had been formed, for officers of all three Services. They offered 14 days in Chamonix in the New Year, absolutely everything all-in, for £30 (say £750 today).

Willie and I each had a fortnight's leave left. We emptied our piggy-banks (and with my new found wealth !), we could do it. Travel was by train and boat, but for an extra £5 they had a charter aircraft from Heathrow to Geneva, then by coach to Chamonix (only an hour or so). Pay someone to fly in an aeroplane ? Unthinkable ! The proper thing was that they should pay us, wasn't it ? We dismissed the idea with the contempt it deserved.

Off to the slopes next time.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C


Give up when you're winning.

glojo
10th Feb 2013, 01:50
Apologies for posting on this excellent thread but periodically I see posts asking about what can be done with memoirs of Second World War experiences.

Can this be of any help?


Best wishes
John


Dear John,
Forces War Records would like to hear from members that would be interested in publishing their ancestors diaries of their time in the forces.

We have an extensive library of historic documents that we are looking to expand for prosperity and would welcome any interesting content that we can digitise and publish.

We are also able to offer a licensing arrangement on certain items, so if you feel you have anything of value that other members would enjoy reading, please do get in touch.

In the first instance please simply reply to this email with some scanned examples of the kind of documents you have and a list of items and we will respond once we have had time to catalogue them all.

In the meantime, if you have yet to enjoy our library take a look now, we have publications such as newspapers from the first world war to training manuals to memorial registers, all viewable within seconds at: http://www.forces-war-records.co.uk/library (http://www.forces-war-records.co.uk/library)

Kind Regards,

The e-mail address they refer to is:

[email protected]

I used this site to get a copy of my father's War time service, plus a list of all medals he was awarded.

Icare9
11th Feb 2013, 09:39
Just a little word of warning. Do remember that the site AUTOMATICALLY renews your monthly subscription if you don't ensure that the option is amended. Ensure you cancel before the month is up, OR take out the Annual subscription if you want to continue.

I have no connection for or against the site, just that like some others it can catch you by surprise if you don't read the small print properly.

Geriaviator
11th Feb 2013, 09:54
Wise words from Icare regarding monthly payments to this commercial site operated by Forces Reunited. I too have no views on the site one way or t'other but I did notice the Freudian slip in their letter:

Forces War Records would like to hear from members that would be interested in publishing their ancestors diaries of their time in the forces. We have an extensive library of historic documents that we are looking to expand for prosperity and would welcome any interesting content that we can digitise and publish.

I think they mean posterity ... but maybe they don't :rolleyes: