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Fareastdriver
29th Sep 2014, 15:15
I had an event with Ray Hanna in May 1978. I was tasked, actually I was running the flying programme and so I put myself on, to do a photographic sortie of JU 52 arriving at Biggin Hill. There is no point in having power if you don't abuse it.

The JU52 was a CASA 252 which, with a collection of Merlin powered He111s and 109s, had been bought off the Spanish Air Force. The plot was to have a film of the Tante Ju and a Spitfire in formation. I went to Biggin, met Ray, had a look over his Spitfire and we waited for news of the Junkers which was en-route from Spain.

Nobody knew where it was. It had been reported over Ashford so we decided that I, having stacks of fuel would launch and look for it. So my Puma HC1 helicopter became the last RAF aircraft to attempt to intercept a WW II Luftwaffe aircraft.

I picked it up after about fifteen minutes, head on with that peculiar undercarriage dangling underneath. The Spitfire was scrambled and I slotted echelon port to the 52. The camera crew the started to get to work and then Ray and his Spitfire formatted the other side. Not without difficulty because the Junkers was only doing about 110 knots and I don't know how a Spitfire handles in formation, flapless, at that speed.

The JU 52 was shaking like a corrugated iron roof in a gale. His port No1 engine was apparently getting bit hot so No2 in the middle was working overtime to keep the show going. However we got our pictures and then we left the Junkers behind and there was a session with just the Spifire tucked in. He found it a lot easier at 145 knots.

It was my last operational day flying in the RAF. A few days later I flew a Puma to my children's school in Kempshott and after that it was the North Sea.

I think that the Junkers (CASA) ended up in the SAA museum at Zwartcop.

MPN11
29th Sep 2014, 18:41
A delightful tale, Fareastdriver, as are so many on this thread.

I have been quiet, and just reading, as an iPad in the USA is not the ideal vehicle for comms.

But now that I am home, I do need to say that the "Elder Brethren" have kept me fascinated for ages. I thank you all (no names) for the enlightenment and nostalgia. As a 'wingless wonder' there is little for me to say ... except occasionally ;)

Danny42C
30th Sep 2014, 00:25
Thank you, airborne artist, (your #6246) I'm delighted that what I look upon as my hobby seems to give pleasure to so many people. It's just that I've been given "the gift of the gab" (must be in my ancestry !)...D.

FantomZorbin,

I'm delighted that I've been able to awaken a precious memory of your childhood....D.

Here we are:

http://www.mh434.com/history/mh434_rougham.jpg

:ok:

kookabat,

You do me far too much honour Sir (but thank you all the same !)....D.

mmitch,

So the old-timer is flying still (the Spit, I mean). Sadly Ray Hanna is dead, and his son Mark is dead, too (so Wiki tells me). Seems they founded the Old Flying Machine Company together. RIP both...D.

pulse1,

The Navigator etc trainees would include a fair component of the "washouts" from the Arnolds and BFTS. The British Commonwealth (that pale ghost of the Empire) played no part then - it came later. (It was formally constituted by the London Declaration only in 1949 - Wiki).....D.

Chugalug,

Thank you, Sir ! (you are much too kind) And thank you, and others, for the help and support you have given me since the very early days of my tale (2½ years ago - how time flies !) ....D.

Fareastdriver,

Your:
"...Not without difficulty because the Junkers was only doing about 110 knots and I don't know how a Spitfire handles in formation, flapless, at that speed.."

and

"....left the Junkers behind and there was a session with just the Spifire tucked in. He found it a lot easier at 145 knots....."

By itself, 110 knots would be all right (only S&L) but wouldn't care to try Formation. Trouble was, there was no take-off Flap, it was all or nothing. (But there were occasions, when they were flying Spits off a carrier fot delivery to (say) Malta, when they got round that by putting flaps down, a wooden "spacer" block under the wing, then flaps up to hold it trapped between. That gave them about 30º for take-off, then when well airborne, they put flaps down, dropped the block, and lifted flap.

On the Spit Mk.1, 145 knots (with the Merlin II or III down to 1800 rpm, and well leaned-out) needed very little boost. It was reckoned that it would do 16 ampg, so your internal 85 gallons gave you 5 hours. That worked out at 20 mpg, not bad for a big car on the road ! (And you were doing 170 mph as well !.....D.

MPN11,

Crept up on me while my back was turned, didn't you ! Now as to your: ".... As a 'wingless wonder' there is little for me to say...."

Not so, Sir. You, too, can say: "Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth" as well as any of us here....D

Cheers to you all, Gentlemen. Danny.

Nkosi
30th Sep 2014, 03:47
Danny, I have so enjoyed reading your posts, marvelously graphic.

My input into this thread is to join the odd dot or two, for me anyway. My father was in the 14th army during WW II, with the East African REME and commanded those folks through the trials and tribulations of keeping jeeps/transport/heavy guns and such working in pretty bad conditions. He ended up as a Lt Col of the regiment but has long departed this world.

His younger brother joined the RAF and became a pilot flying Blenheim aircraft, was shot down over Crete In 1940 and spent the rest of the war in various POW camps including Stalagluft III. He came home, to Kenya where our family home was in 1946, flew for East African Airways for many years. He too has departed this world.

I joined the Royal Navy as a 15 year old Boy Seaman, remustered into the Fleet Air Arm and had an eventful 13 years of service with the RN, then departed to become an engineer, licensed, for various airlines based all over the world. Over time I left the airline engineering world and joined the regulatory authority in Australia followed by the UK (CAA) and went through the training regime to gain a PPL, to enable me to have a clearer understand the skills required in the GA fraternity from an operational as well as an engineering point of view.

During my time within two regulatory authorities I had the good fortune to assess and issue Permits to Fly to a variety of aircraft from WWII era, including Spitfires and Lysander's.

I have now retired but do miss, from time to time, the world of aircraft that I was part of for 50 years,

Please keep on with your story Danny, such a good read.

Nkosi

FantomZorbin
30th Sep 2014, 07:15
Danny,
Magic ... thank you.

FZ

26er
30th Sep 2014, 08:35
Fifty-five years ago in the film library at 229 OCU there was a WW2 propaganda film shown on "clampers" days called "Journey Together" in which a very young Richard Attenborough played the part of a recruit, disappointed at not being trained as a pilot nevertheless came good and ended up as a navigator. (Or some such!) Anyone remember it?


Another one frequently shown was "The Fighting Lady", with lots of real action filmed in colour, about a carrier operating in the Pacific - probably in the Battle of Midway.

Reader123
30th Sep 2014, 09:05
No I'd never heard of it. But thirty seconds with Google determines that Journey Together is a 1944 film made by the RAF, written by - and acted by - members of the RAF. Apparently our Hero joins the Empire Training Scheme in Canada (before ending up as a Navigator).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17LrPM4Ao44

Doubtless plenty of authentic, real-life Empire Training shots. And whilst no longer available from the IWM available from Amazon.

Xercules
30th Sep 2014, 16:39
I have hesitated about introducing my father’s experiences into this thread as he was an “Arnold Washout” and ended up qualifying as a Navigator/Observer/Bomb Aimer etc having been returned to Canada. I only recently thought to ask for his Service Record although I have had his Navigator’s and Air Gunner’s Flying Log Book for a long time. Unfortunately, he was killed in a hit and run accident, during the Firemen’s Strike, of 1977 (but that is another story) and, like so many others, I never thought to get his story first hand when I was able.

At the start of the war he was a Geography teacher in New Mills in the Peak District but he joined the Service on 5 October 1940 as 1072966 AC2 COOK Edward (LAC 16/3/41 and Sgt 30/3/42). The first few entries in his RoS are:

Unit Fro: (blank) unit to: No 3 RC Padgate date:5/10/40
Unit From: No 3 RC Padgate unit to: Reserve date: 6/10/40
Unit From: Reserve unit to: No 9 RW Stratford on Avon date: 21/12/40

All these are typed but it then lapses into handwritten entries:
6 ITW - 4/1/41(a course photograph showing this was at Aberystwyth)
Arnold 1 - 20/5/40(presumably this should be 20/5/41)
PTC - 30/5/41(although again the year is not really legible)
Spartan SofA - (no date but then there are 3 entries lower with an inserting arrow)
Albany - 8/6/41
Maxwell Fld - 6/8/41
3 BFTS Miami - 28/8/41
PTC - 1/10/41
31PDC Trenton - 7/10/41 and 25/10/41 (2 dates in the same square)
33 ANS - 23/11/41 (Hamilton)
31 B&GS - 16/3/42(Picton)
Discharged - 26/4/42 (Appointed Emerg Comm Plt/Off GD Bch RAFVR 27/4/42)

The entry above saying “Arnold 1”is my interpretation – perhaps, Danny 42C, you could confirm what that might mean. Also Danny, if you are able, what course number would that have been from the dates I have shown?

The discussions there have been here about wash out rates have set me thinking about why he should not have made it. In 1941 he would have been 28 years old which seems a little old, even during a wartime emergency, for pilot training. Could age have been a factor which would have weighed heavily with the USAAC not yet at war?

I also have several small photographs of his time in Albany both on and off base. Although he was obviously not there very long he made an enduring friendship with a family by name of Carter. I know very little about them but they did come to the UK on the, at that time, Grand American Tour of Europe as Mr Carter retired in either 1958 or 9 and came to stay with my father’s parents in Sussex. This seemed to reflect the frequently reported tales of American hospitality across the training schemes.

From his logbook I can construct a very much more detailed view of what followed once he started at 33 ANS but it is still only the bare bones. I will try to put it into a readable form over the next few weeks to provide some background on those who washed out from the Arnold Scheme.

Danny42C
1st Oct 2014, 12:42
Xercules,

This is what I make of it. Most of it is straightforward enough. (My comment in Capitals).

Unit From: (blank) unit to: No 3 RC Padgate date:5/10/40
THIS WOULD BE FOR INITIAL SELECTION BOARD, ACCEPTED, & ENLISTED AS AC2 (U/T PILOT/AIR OBSERVER).

Unit From: No 3 RC Padgate unit to: Reserve date: 6/10/40
SENT HOME NEXT DAY ON DEFERRED SERVICE.

Unit From: Reserve unit to: No 9 RW Stratford on Avon date: 21/12/40
CALLED IN FROM DEFERRED SERVICE, TWO WEEKS FROM 21/12/40 TO 4/1/41. WOULD BE AT RECEPTION CENTRE ("WING") STRATFORD.

6 ITW - 4/1/41 (a course photograph showing this was at Aberystwyth)
NORMAL PROGRESSION (SIX WEEKS WOULD END ca 15/2/41; WAS PROMOTED AS NORMAL TO LAC 16/3/41 (WHY A MONTH LATER ? - PERHAPS HIS ITW DID'T START ON TIME SO FINISHED LATE).

Arnold 1 - 20/5/40 (presumably this should be 20/5/41)
YES. PROBABLY HAD EMBARKATION LEAVE AFTER ITW, BUT WE HAVE 3 MONTHS TO ACCOUNT FOR. REST MIGHT BE AT SOME TRANSIT CAMP. "ARNOLD 1" MIGHT SIMPLY BE NO MORE THAN A NOTIFICATION THAT HE'D BEEN SELECTED FOR AN ARNOLD CONTINGENT.

PTC - 30/5/41 (although again the year is not really legible)
YEAR IS 41. "PERSONNEL TRANSIT CAMP ?" (SOUNDS LIKE BLACKPOOL, WHERE HE'D GET ISSUED WITH A CHEAP CIVVIE SUIT, WHITE SHIRT, TIE & BERET.

Spartan SofA - (no date but then there are 3 entries lower with an inserting arrow)
GUESS: "SPARTAN SONOFABITCH" (CONDITIONS AT BLACKPOOL? - IT DEPENDED ON WHICH BOARDING HOUSE YOU WERE BILLETED ON (SURE AS HELL IT WASN'T THE "IMPERIAL HOTEL !") :uhoh:

Albany (Georgia) - 8/6/41 (ARNOLD)
WOULD BE HIS PRIMARY SCHOOL. AS HE WOULD NORMALLY GRADUATE SIX MONTHS LATER (A FEW DAYS INTO THE NEW YEAR), HE'D BE COURSE 42A. SO IT'D FOLLOW THE LAST AMERICAN COURSE (41K ?) DID HE EVER MENTION THE "HAZING" ? (AT CARLSTROM THEY HAD A RIOT AND PUT A STOP TO IT).

Maxwell Fld (Montgomery, Alabama) - 6/8/41 (ARNOLD)
HIS BASIC SCHOOL. IT WOULD SEEM THAT HE WAS "WASHED OUT" FROM THERE 3 WEEKS INTO HIS 8 WEEK COURSE (WHY ?). WASHOUTS FROM "BASIC" (7%) AND "ADVANCED" (2%) WERE RARE.

3 BFTS Miami (OKLAHOMA - NOT FLA - DREAM ON !) - 28/8/41 BFTS
NOW THIS IS A COMPLETE MYSTERY ! I'VE NEVER HEARD OF SUCH A THING. MIGHT IT BE THAT THEY'D DECIDED TO GIVE HIM A SECOND CHANCE IN A BFTS ? (ALL OUR WASHOUTS WENT STRAIGHT BACK TO CANADA). SEEMS HE SPENT 3 WEEKS THERE ???

PTC - 1/10/41 31PDC Trenton (Ontario) - 7/10/41 and 25/10/41 (2 dates in the same square)
CLEARLY ANOTHER TRANSIT CAMP (IN AND OUT DATES).

33 ANS - 23/11/41 Hamilton (Ontario)
16 WEEKS NAV SCHOOL, 30/3/42 PROMOTED SGT, SO MUST HAVE GOT NAV WING SAME DATE, FOLLOWED BY:-

31 B&GS - 16/3/42 Picton (Ontario)
ONE MONTH BOMBING AND GUNNERY SCHOOL

Discharged (TECHICALITY) - 26/4/42 (Appointed Emerg (WAR SUBSTANTIVE) Comm Plt/Off GD Bch RAFVR 27/4/42)
COMMISSIONED (AND BACK TO UK ?) THE FACT OF HIS BEING ACCEPTED FOR PILOT TRAINING AT 27 YRS OLD WAS UNUSUAL, BUT NOT UNKNOWN (OFFICIAL LIMITS 17½ - 23). BUT ALMOST CERTAINLY PLAYED A PART IN HIS SELECTION FOR COMMISSIONING - THAT, AND THE FACT THAT HE'D HAD A RESPONSIBLE JOB AS A TEACHER.

Best I can do. Let's have the rest of his story whenever you can, Xercules.

Cheers, Danny.

FantomZorbin
1st Oct 2014, 13:04
I have been lucky and privileged to have met several gentlemen from the Arnold Scheme at a local airfield on the occasion of one of their reunions - fantastic.


I'm sure it has been mentioned before but for ease of reference: Arnold Scheme (http://www.arnold-scheme.org/)

Danny42C
1st Oct 2014, 13:20
Nkosi,

Thanks for your interesting tale, but I'm bowing out soon. Now you must have a host of wonderful stories under your belt - and this is the place to tell them. Come on in, the water's fine !

Your:
"I have now retired but do miss, from time to time, the world of aircraft that I was part of for 50 years".

It's alive and well, and it's here !

Now your Dad may well have been in the Arakan with me. We had the 81st (West African) Division out there, but I'm not sure about the East African. They may have been up North on the Imphal front. Any clues ?.....D.

FantomZorbin ,

Thanks, but "all good things must come to an end"....D.

26er ,

Wasn't that the one which contained the immortal words: "The Mighty Anson Bomber" (pronounced "Bahmber" which were quoted endlessly for years afterward in mockery - poor old Annie !

IIRC, the Attenborough character saved the day, but I can't remember how. The film was a naked plug for Navigators, a job sometimes regarded as a "consolation prize" for failed Pilots.

The "Fighting Lady" would be the "Lady Lex" - the US fleet carrier "Lexington". Not sure in which sea battle she went down fighting, but don't think Midway......D.

Reader123,

I think everyone in RAF training in WW2 was marched in to see it on "no see, no fly" days...D.

Xercules,

Very interesting ! Will have a good, hard look at this, unravel what I can, and reply further...D. (This has got out of sequence, should have gone to you before the last Post - sorry.....D)


Regards to all, Danny.

Ian Burgess-Barber
1st Oct 2014, 14:31
Xercules (and Danny)

My first reaction on seeing "Spartan SofA" was that it referred to The Spartan School of Aeronautics of Tulsa Oklahoma. They were used for U.S.A.A.C purposes from Aug. 1939 and took RAF students from June 1941. They still exist in Tulsa (now called Spartan College of Aeronautics & Technology). Spartan also ran 3 BFTS in Miami Oklahoma.

Ian BB

26er
1st Oct 2014, 16:10
Danny,


The Fighting Lady was the USS Yorktown. The film is worth watching again if you've the time. Try Google.


There were two Yorktowns - CV5 and CV10. I visited CV10 near Charlestown SC.

MPN11
1st Oct 2014, 16:19
31 PDC ... not a Personnel Detention Centre, I trust? ;)
(Ah, it's a Personnel Despatch Centre. This was interesting, and indicative of the scale of things, although not specific in this case ... Ground Units (http://www.raf-lichfield.co.uk/GroundUnits.htm) )

However ...
"31 PD (or PDC) was at Moncton" in '42, it seems? Presumably they moved 31PDC.
Form 543 RAF Service Records - Abbreviations (http://www.rafcommands.com/forum/showthread.php?2957-Form-543-RAF-Service-Records-Abbreviations&p=15931#post15931)

Search of "31PDC RCAF" on Mr Google's magnificent facility has several links. Including this one (4th paragraph on that page) >>>> The Arnold Scheme: British Pilots, the American South, and the Allies ... - Gilbert Sumter Guinn - Google Books (http://books.google.com/books?id=m6IA84_UHsQC&pg=PA24&lpg=PA24&dq=31PDC++RCAF&source=bl&ots=CPfdlWE7mM&sig=NYGcDA-PncFbPhDaRIGINAXlHeE&hl=en&sa=X&ei=OCcsVLf_NcWS7AaF9YDwDQ&ved=0CD8Q6AEwBA#v=onepage&q=31PDC%20%20RCAF&f=false)

Sheesh, it's complicated!

Oh, and ... Thanks for your interesting tale, but I'm bowing out soon. ... Nooooooooo!!

Danny42C
1st Oct 2014, 16:26
Ian BB,

"A Hit, Sir - a very palpable hit !"....Touché !! (retires in shame and confusion - wasn't a very good guess of mine was it ? - pity, I thought I was on to something. And my sincere apologies to Blackpool).

Alters the picture somewhat. (Xercules please note). So Spartan (of which I'd never heard) was his Primary, which makes Maxwell his Advanced. ("Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice"). Something very funny is going on here - but what ?

Could this be in any way connected to the mysterious transfer to 5 BFTS ? Baffles me. Is there anyone on this frequency out there who was around at Maxwell or Miami at the time, and knows anything about this ?

Thanks, Ian, for bringing this howler of mine to light ! :* Danny.

Ian Burgess-Barber
1st Oct 2014, 16:57
Aw shucks Danny, I'm not so clever really! It is just that I have been a reader of the American magazine "Flying" since 1970, and Spartan was a regular advertiser in that publication, so the word just leapt off the page to me. Forgive me for being picky but it was 3 BFTS, not 5 BFTS (in your last post) that we are referring to.

Spartan SofA - (no date but then there are 3 entries lower with an inserting arrow)
Albany - 8/6/41
Maxwell Fld - 6/8/41
3 BFTS Miami - 28/8/41

I wish I understood what Xercules means by
"with an inserting arrow"

Most Mysterious

Ian BB

Xercules
1st Oct 2014, 17:53
IBB - I apologise that my description was less than specific of the "inserting arrow" but it was the best I could do from where I was. I will not be at home for a couple of days yet but will then try to scan and include that for you.

However, the Spartan entry is on one line of the RoS. There is then a gap of a couple of lines and then some following entries and then the "Albany, Maxwell and Miami" ones with a bracket and hand drawn arrow effectively placing them against the "Spartan" entry. The entries in between all post date those of the 3.

For the interim, I hope this helps.

Ian Burgess-Barber
1st Oct 2014, 20:34
Xercs. no apology is needed. I too have struggled to understand the sometimes arcane hand-written things put on my father's Record Cards - they, (the records clerks in the 1940s) obviously knew what they meant, but at this distance it is difficult for us to decipher. The man we need to come in right now is 'Petet' who has cleared up these clerical mysteries for us on more than one occasion on this thread. It would indeed be most helpful to see a scan (a picture is worth a thousand words). Until I have sight of this record I wonder if the line "Spartan SofA" without a date next to it is just a heading, ref. lend-lease billing, and doesn't mean that he went to Tulsa at that time but that they knew that 3 BFTS was where he would finally reach a flying school after acclimatisation and ground school at Albany and Maxwell.
Don't know. Just saying!

Ian BB

Nkosi
2nd Oct 2014, 02:19
Hello again Danny,

Regarding my fathers war service in Burma;

Trailing through my ever diminishing memory bank I can remember a mounted shield my father had been presented to by his troops at war end. The shield had various named places where his troops/workshops were located during the Burma campaign including, Imphal, Chittagong, Shwebo and on to the Mandalay front.

I have also come across an extract from the East African Standard of March 1945 written by a reporter named George Kinnear in which my father is featured and which a paragraph says;

"In an attractive Burmese house,which the skill of a clean tablecloth and a couple of old car seats covered with mauve material and a homemade cabinet gramophone had made comfortable, I found the East African big game hunter and farmer, Major William Bird, of Rongai, now commanding the only infantry workshop on the Mandalay front".........

The locations mentioned may be familiar to you Danny but my father had the linguistic ability to converse with his artisans from various tribes of East Africa, namely. Nyasia's, Jaluo, Kikuyu and Kamba.

Stories to tell, I have had a terrific life and have enjoyed all parts of it. Scared myself witless at times, but learned from them also. Perhaps one day a book will emerge - better to put it all down in black and ink before it is gone forever I suppose.

Regarding the Military aircraft side of things, the first aircraft that I was qualified to maintain (QM) in navy speak was the Westland Wyvern, a great big beast of a machine. Then on to DH Venom 22's, then DH 110's (Sea Vixen Mk I), then Supermarine Scimitars, then Hunters followed by small helicopters(Sioux, or Bell 47 G3B1's). I served on four aircraft carriers with various squadrons before moving to the rotary wing side of things with the Royal Marines. Did the business in In Borneo during Confrontation and then stepped into the civilian world after demob.

Then the start of the next adventure - back to Africa but this time South Africa.

Perhaps more later.

Nkosi

Danny42C
3rd Oct 2014, 21:31
Nkosi,

Your: "Perhaps more later". Have a heart ! We've got our plates full already ! To start with, your: "Imphal, Chittagong, Scwebo and Mandalay".

Chittagong I know well enough (roughly speaking, it's at the top of the Arakan, which runs down south to Akyab Island). There I operated (briefly) in early '43 with 110 (H) ; then in Arakan from mid-Nov'43 to Jun '44 with 8 (IAF).

Imphal is way up North; from Khumbirgram in Assam (Oct '43 - mid Nov'43) I was with 110 on that front. There we got bombed (and lost three airmen and an elephant). All the above on the Vultee Vengeance (unknown at the time and long forgotten now).

Mandalay (on the Road to which, according to Kipling: "The flying fishes play/ An' the dawn comes up like thunder out o' China 'crost the Bay"), and Scwebo (where is it ?) were well to the NE. Don't know the area.

Your: "In an attractive Burmese house,which the skill of a clean tablecloth and a couple of old car seats covered with mauve material and a homemade cabinet gramophone had made comfortable, I found the East African big game hunter and farmer, Major William Bird, of Rongai, now commanding the only infantry workshop on the Mandalay front".........

Your Dad had it good (but that is the mark of the Old Soldier - danger may be inescapable, but the man who endures unneccesary discomfort is a fool). And there's me, happy in my basha with an air-transportable charpoy, bedroll, a hurricane lamp and my tin box to sit on, thinking how much more well off I was than the poor 14th Army devils in the jungle 24/7 with a monsoon cape and a mess tin. Everything is relative, after all !

....."The locations mentioned may be familiar to you Danny but my father had the linguistic ability to converse with his artisans from various tribes of East Africa, namely. Nyasia's, Jaluo, Kikuyu and Kamba."

Dog-Hindi would get you along all over the subcontinent and most of the NW Burma where we were. Waste of time learning a local dialect: (I've read somewhere that there were more spoken languages in India than in the rest of the world together). Btw, what does "Nkosi" mean (Swahili, I presume ?) .......D.


MPN11,

Your "Noooooo".

Sorry old chap - but Yesssss !...:*.... D.

Cheers both, Danny.

lasernigel
3rd Oct 2014, 23:09
My Uncle Fred was shot down on the 21st October 1944. Know he is buried now in Taukkyan war cemetery. They didn't find his body until 1956.
He was with 42 Sqn but can't get on the RAF website link to found out exactly where he was based in Burma and what bridge he was bombing on his final flight.
My Father told me he went to Canada first training on Harvards, did his conversion to Hurricanes in South Africa. It was his 3rd mission. Trying through surviving relatives to find his log book.

Danny42C
4th Oct 2014, 01:01
We went back up to the Approach room (it seemed SATCO had gone to lunch). Hanna explained that our bit of North Yorkshire was not familiar country to him, could we please give him radar surveillance from the time he took off until Teeside wanted him in to do his stuff ? Of course !, we'd stand him off well away from them, for other displays would be in the air in the vicinity at the same time, and I could provide collision warning.

What was more, I explained: we had a direct phone line to Teeside - I could keep this open for five minutes or so before his display time: and with their chap on the other end marshal him in almost to the second after the previous act. The crowd wouldn't even have time to bury their noses in their ice-creams ! And I showed him how it would be done. Radar was quiet, I took over the AR-1, moved my PPI trace centre over Teeside (about 14 miles NE, IIRC), and zoomed-in to maximum (the way we'd brought in our lost farmer one night years before).

SATCO was now back from lunch, approved our arrangement. CFI/OC(F) had no objection - weather was fine anyway. Radar would be off the air for half an hour for servicing, we told FIR. It worked like a charm. I had him on my headset on one ear, Teeside on the other. It was a piece of cake. Teeside got a once-in-a-lifetime display from the Spitfire; he came back to me, thanked us warmly and cleared airfield. I handed the AR-1 back to the watchkeeper, told CFI and FIR that Radar was back in business again. Lunch had come and gone by the board, but I didn't mind. A cup of tea tasted good (how could ATC possibly function without it ?)

Only a short one this time. Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.

One Good Turn Deserves Another !


But now a long Postscript ! This will be the last of my stories from ATC Leeming, and the last of the regular Posts of a "career" which started at a Recruiting Office in Liverpool 32 years earlier, ran through five years of globe-trotting war, three years fretting in civil life, and a final 23 years back in the Light Blue. I flew, off and on, for thirteen years. When that avenue was closed to me, my last 17 years in military Air Traffic Control were "Interesting Times" .

And now I feel that, like the Rump Parliament, I have "sat here too long for any good that I have been able to do", and it is time to bow out. I must admit at being rather surprised that I've lasted the Course. I've found all of it interesting and enjoyable, learned many things about people and places on the way, and tried to help others to catch a glimpse into a Past which is slipping out of living memory as we speak.

As I was told, almost at the very beginning: "You'll never get rich - but you'll meet an awful lot of nice people on the way" (first and foremost, my lovely Wife !) and so it has turned out. It would be invidious to mention names, so I'll simply thank all of you who have helped me in my problems and appreciated my writings. (And not forgetting our Moderators, who have been so patient with me on many occasions - and may yet have to be still more !)

Thanks ! Danny.

♪♪ "So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, Good-byee..." ♪♪

PPS: Still to come the final "wrap up", an amusing Addendum, and sporadic incursions onto Thread, from time to time, as the spirit moves me.

Danny42C. :ok:
..................................................THE END...........................................

phil9560
4th Oct 2014, 02:08
I know you're a bit elderly Danny but is there something we should know ?

Don't go just yet !!

Typhoon93
4th Oct 2014, 02:47
I've only just noticed this thread. It's going to take me a while to read through it all, although Danny, one question: how many G's could you pull in a Spitfire?

How did you deal with G-force in the cockpit compared to today's FJ pilots?

Brian 48nav
4th Oct 2014, 07:32
Jefford's book 'RAF Squadrons' shows 42 Squadron based at Tulihal , south of Imphal, from July 6th to 16th November 1944 and equipped with 2 marks of Hurricane, the IV and IIC.


I think 42 disbanded fairly recently and there may be a squadron association that could help with history.

FantomZorbin
4th Oct 2014, 07:34
Danny ... a Tour de Force indeed,
Thank you.

Ian Burgess-Barber
4th Oct 2014, 08:10
Danny

Like so many here, may I give my thanks to you for your vivid recollections of your experiences in the RAF. For me, as one of the “Baby Boomers” (the luckiest generation to have ever lived on the planet), it has been a revelation, and indeed, a privilege to engage with you on this wonderful thread. I must also give my thanks to the Mods. for allowing me, a post-WW2 person ,who has never served in the military, to intrude here.


All of the initial and wonderful accounts prior to yours on the thread have been compulsive reading, but, your stories “chimed” so harmoniously with what befell my own relations. RAF Pilot father, (like you, U.S. trained, and served in India). Mum and stepfather, (Fleet Air Arm, both, like you, working with unappreciated Dive Bombers). Your memories have also brought their wartime experiences back to life for me.


Now it is time for you to sit in a place of honour, in the most comfortable corner seat of this crewroom in cyberspace, and we trust that, from time to time, as the spirit moves you, a broadside will be forthcoming to remind us of your ready wit, and forthright non-PC-ness!


Ian BB

Nkosi
4th Oct 2014, 09:05
Danny,

Nkosi was always used as a term of respect to an older, more knowledgeable, person. Certainly within our farm when the farm laborers addressed my father or grandfather. I have adopted the term in remember to them I suppose. I also think it was a Swahili term.

South Africa, and SAA, my first civilian job. I was employed as an Aviation Technicien and introduced to maintenance of modern, B727 and B737 aircraft. After a few years I gained licences to enable me to certify for work done on both types and the PW JT 8D engines so installed. I ended up as the visiting Station Engineer, releaving the resident engineer all over the routes flown by SAA with those aircraft types.

As an aside, my maternal grandfather was in a Lincoln Infantry Regiment and took part in the Boer War. But interestingly enough he wrote a detailed diary of his experiences and places where action was seen. The main theme of the diary was lack of good food, and Lord Kitchiner featured in his grumbles! The diary was written in beautiful copperplate style of penmanship - and he was a private with limited education.

Perhaps more later

Nkosi

MPN11
4th Oct 2014, 09:59
Danny42C, may I add my thanks to those of others here for your fascinating and informative contributions to this bit of 'living history'. You have been so amusing and literate ... and seriously nocturnal (one can't help notice the times at which you post). Sharing your journey has been both a pleasure and a privilege.

I trust we will hear more from you occasionally: the completion of your personal tale doesn't completely excuse you from duties here, you know ;)

Best wishes, Sir, and thanks again.

(It's a shame you never went into Area Radar, though!!)

Edit: I have also been asked to post thanks from the ATC "Old and Bold" community, where your ATC-related anecdotes have been preserved for posterity as well ;)

olympus
4th Oct 2014, 12:10
Nkosi was always used as a term of respect to an older, more knowledgeable, person. Certainly within our farm when the farm laborers addressed my father or grandfather. I have adopted the term in remember to them I suppose. I also think it was a Swahili term.

According to Wikipedia "Nkosi Sikelel' iAfrika"* is "Lord Bless Africa" in the Xhosa (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xhosa_language) language so presumably Nkosi means 'Lord'?

*and also the national anthems of Tanzania and South Africa.

Nkosi
4th Oct 2014, 12:22
Olympus

You are correct, but my memories of Nkosi as a term at home may well have come from initially a visiting South African friend of the family.

Nkosi

Fareastdriver
4th Oct 2014, 12:28
Nkosi means 'Lord'

Certainly within our farm when the farm laborers addressed my father or grandfather.

By Gad, they knew their place in those days, eh what? Waiter; another brandy and soda.

ValMORNA
4th Oct 2014, 20:25
. . . and a 'Chota Peg' for Danny.

lasernigel
4th Oct 2014, 21:12
Thanks Brian 48Nav.:ok: 42 Sqn disbanded recently they had Nimrods.

My Dad said he was on IIC's on the fateful day bombing some bridge.

On the bucket list to visit his grave. His Father and Mother couldn't afford to have his remains repatriated. Though there is a plaque above the entrance to the vestry at the Church in Blackpool.

gzornenplatz
4th Oct 2014, 21:27
Danny must not be allowed to leave us without so much as sob or two from the assembled PPRuners. You have regaled us with your memories for too long to permit you to fade away with just a simple "Cheerio". We are interested in how you coped with the drudgery of being Customsman ( or VATman). There must be more. Please.

PeregrineW
5th Oct 2014, 00:06
I am much more of a lurker than a poster, but I wanted to put my two penn'orth in.

Danny, you are a consummate story teller, and a true gentleman. I have enjoyed reading your tales over the past I don't know how long and, if you stop, I will find the world a little less interesting as a result.

I am sure that you could find something interesting and amusing to tell us about paint drying on a slowly warping plank. Please do carry on with the stories if you can find the time, you have an eager audience waiting for "When I Was On Excise"...

Danny42C
5th Oct 2014, 01:34
phil9560, (#6273)

Only that I firmly intend to live for ever ! (Guinness helps, too). Good genes, I suppose.....D.


Typhoon93, (#6274)

No idea ! (No G meters in Spitfires). Reckoned to be 4 or 5G (and that was a guess, I think). The Spitfire two-tier rudder stirrups were designed to delay the onset (as your raised thighs would help a bit), and you clenched in your tummy muscles, but that was about all you could do.

I think I speak for many: with your Callsign, and aged 21 , are you perchance one of our Young Tigers ? .......D.


Fantom Zorbin, (#6276)

Thank you , Sir !..................D.


Ian BB, (#6277)

I'm honoured and grateful by your kind remarks, Sir (your Father would have been proud of you). You are not intruding here ! - you speak with his voice, and all of his generation deserve to be listened to, for the survivors will not be around for long.

Yet you must always remember, that we were (in the words of the D. Tel. obituarist): "Ordinary men who did extraordinary things" - to which I would add "in extraordinary times". We were not "special" in any way, it's just that we were on watch when it all happened.

The tragedy of the Vultee Vengeance was that the RAF didn't want them, regretted having bought the things, and pooh-pooed them even when they demonstrated what they really could do (the USAAC was no better, they refused even to try theirs operationally (even with the example of the successful Stuka full in their faces !). The American Commanding General on the New Guinea front ordered the Australian VVs to discontinue operations just as they were getting into their stride. The US Navy had admittedly, worked with the idea (which is particularly suited to Naval warfare), but even so seem to have developed a total amnesia (together with the US public generally) about their SBD Douglas "Dauntless".

This after Midway, where one squadron reduced the pride of the Japanese fleet to a blazing, useless ruin in (by one account), seven and a half minutes ! (A more sober estimate was 20 mins - one Lt/Cdr accounted for one of the four fleet carriers on his own, his pilots put paid to two more); the fourth "Hiryu" got away but was caught and crippled next day. (The Japanese sank all their burnt-out hulks with torpedoes from a submarine).

Pearl Harbor was avenged (this had been the battle group which had carried out that attack); America was freed from the possibility of any assault on the West Coast; the back of Japanese Naval Air power in the Pacific was broken irretrievably (- the US yards could outbuild them three to one).

If the US ever had a Battle of America, this was it. And now they've forgotten all about it......D. (Sic transit gloria mundi.)


Nkosi, (#6278)

So, it's the direct equivalent of "Sahib" (suspected as much !). Your: "The diary was written in beautiful copperplate style of penmanship - and he was a private with limited education" mirrors my own experience with my father. He'd only had an Army "brat"'s education at a Victorian Army school in India, but his handwriting put mine to shame ! .......Burra Sahib.


MPN11, (#6279)

Once more, I'm at a loss for words to express my gratification with all the nice things spoken about me. Thank you, Sir, and please convey my thanks to the "Old and Bold", some of whom have personal memory of me (and I hope I've not inadvertently libelled them !)

MBE ? As my old Dad used to say: "When Nelson gets his eye back !" Area Radar ? (let's agree to differ !). Certainly I'll come in from time, in full Victor Meldrew mode, to keep you lot in order.......D.


ValMORNA, (#6283)

Burra Peg, if you don't mind, Sir. And yes, Glenmorangie will do just fine.......D.

gzornenplatz, (#6285)

Your: "There must be more. Please". Thanks - but only from time to time. Btw, I'm still curious about "gzornen" - what does it mean ?.......D.

PeregrineW, (#6286)

You have the "Second Sight", Sir ! Paint will have a mention in the "Addendum" I mentioned a Post or so again. But C&E is far in the future - and you never know. And thanks for the kind words.......D.

Witn kind regards and my renewed thanks to you all, Danny.

Typhoon93
5th Oct 2014, 04:44
Danny, yes I am.

airborne_artist
5th Oct 2014, 06:04
If the US ever had a Battle of America, this was it. And now they've forgotten all about it......D. (Sic transit gloria mundi.)

The US may have forgotten about it, but in a corner of England it used to live on. The Battle of Midway was taught at Dartmouth to young snotties on the SL aviator path.

Wander00
5th Oct 2014, 06:51
Danny - thanks so much - your reminiscences have been brilliant.


Kindest regards W

Fareastdriver
5th Oct 2014, 08:50
The G limits on a Spitfire were probably +6 to -3 in normal operation. That seemed to be the range for most aircraft immediately post war. Both the Meteor and the Vampire had G meters with the needles set at that. They could go further, +8 personally, but without a G suit prolonged G of +5 or above would induce greying.

IIRC the Vampire, which had a more aerodynamic wing than the Meteor, would G stall at about 220knots with 6 G applied. I forget what the speed was at 8.

camlobe
5th Oct 2014, 09:21
Danny 42C,

Like all here, I find myself dismayed at your departure from 'regular service'. For some time now, I have voluntarily dedicated a portion of my day to learning about how the RAF worked before my time of service. And I have learned. For that, I thank all our senior contributors, both present, and posted 'upstairs'.

Your natural skill in descriptive writing that put me in the same room, cockpit, or even Married Quarter, at the same time as yourself is, in my humble opinion, a gift to be treasured. And I would also like to hear about the inner workings of HMCE.

I would like to take this opportunity to say "Thank you". Thank you for deciding to share your life and memories with us. Thank you for teaching me more about the inner workings, including the 'black arts', of ATC, than I would have otherwise known. Thank you for taking me flying with you in the VV. Thank you for taking me for a drive in cars I haven't seen for many years.

And perhaps most importantly, thank you for your service. You and your generation, by virtue of your deeds, have given me the life I know and have. I wish I could express my gratitude in ways and words that were more meaningful. But I can't. So, THANK YOU.

Camlobe

Typhoon93
5th Oct 2014, 10:39
FED, thanks for that.

Didn't Douglas Bader lose both of his legs in a crash before the War? Am I correct in that he would have had a better G tolerance than most others?

Fareastdriver
5th Oct 2014, 12:49
I’ll put this post in to keep it running until Danny catches his breath as he asked me for some more stories from China.

Tanggu, China, end of 1996. I am running a single aircraft operation supporting an exploration rig operated by an American company in Bo Hai Bay. That is the circular bit of water between China and Korea. I am using a British registered AS332L and I have a Chinese FO and three British engineers. Our helipad is in the middle of the Navy section of Tanggu dockyard. Also on site is a sister company Chinese Harbin Z-9 (licence built Aerospatial Dauphin) servicing a Chinese operated rig. They have six pilots, a raft of engineers plus the heliport supporting staff.

Tanguu is the port where Very Large Colliers transport coal from China to feed Japanese industry. The railway does not go to the docks themselves as the Imperial Canal gets in the way so on the roads between the railway and docks there is a constant stream of lorries transporting coal. Occasionally one would see a convoy of Peoples Liberation Army’s truck on the streets doing the same thing, identifiable by their colour and also the white background number plates that denote a military vehicle.

They are doing this for money. The Army were wet leasing their trucks to balance the military budget. All over China high end apartment complexes and blocks have 24 hour security guards; these are also PLA soldiers hired out. Once a month I would lean over my balcony rail and watch a PLA drill sergeant put them though their monthly drill session. So it was with our transport. We had the use of a Hyundai Sonata plus driver which belonged to the Chinese Navy; again with the white number plates.

Normally I would be driven to work wearing casual shirt and slacks with my anorak over the top. One day I was going to meet a company rep so I put on my UK uniform, black with the four gold rings on the sleeves. When we arrived at the dockyard gate the rating that opened saw me and held the gate open and saluted me as I went past. That afternoon no only did the gateman give me a salute so did two other outside the guardroom door.

The next day I felt that it would be a shame just to be an anorak again so I put my uniform on. This time they turned out the guard! I then flew my trip and on my return my engineers mentioned that there had been some Navy people talking to the heliport staff. I was pretty sure it was about me so I wondered what the penalties were in China for impersonatning a naval officer. I needn’t have worried. When I was driven out there were no salutes; no turning out of the guard; just a surly slamming of the gates behind us. I

Fareastdriver
5th Oct 2014, 13:07
Typhoon93

I think that is true. I can remember reading somewhere that he could pull a lot more than others. I feel sorry for his aircraft though.

When I brought my Vampire back with +8 on the clock it went in for an overstress check. On the Vampire there were struts called jury struts that bridged between the main spar and fuselage. Should the wings bend too much these would indicate it. Mine were all right, that is why I was a pilot for so long.

After I had graduated the FTS was replaced by the multi engine FTS using the Vickers Varsity. Solo qualified pilots would have a junior course student as a co-pilot. One day in the bar one of these junior pilots let slip the news that he had been in a Varsity that had been barrel rolled by a senior student.
Investigations immediately started and the aircraft and date was established. An inspection of the aircraft revealed rippling along the top surface of both wings. Despite this the aircraft had been serviced and flown for nearly a month.

There were no such things as jury struts on Varsities, why? so it had to be towed to the breakers. CRM was unknown then so the co-pilot got off Scot free, I don't know what happened to the captain.

cockney steve
5th Oct 2014, 15:02
Another thank-you to Danny for this fascinating account of a long and varied career-or should that be carreer, or even car'ere:p

I spent my teens and twenties in Sarfend, watched the VAT HQ being built on Victoria Circus and noted they left lights on at night,so the illuminated windows spelt V A T several storeys hight, many storeys high.

Moving on ,and up-country, I bought a small garage in a village which was a posh commuter dorm for Oldham and Manchester. fuel was dispensed from ancient clock-face pumps.

One evening, dispensing fuel, I gazed at the car's parcel-shelf a selection of "absorbing" C&E VAT publications were interspersed with copies of Private Eye.
Brightly, I said to the owner, " VATMAN is humourless and only he would choose to read that stuff, As an "Eye" reader, you must , therefore be self-employed". He laughed and said "NO! I'm actually a VATman!!!!

Wasn't you, Danny? around 1980? (Apologies for thread-drift)

MPN11
5th Oct 2014, 16:03
Wasn't you, Danny? around 1980? (Apologies for thread-drift)Hello, hello, has Danny42C been rumbled as a Eye reader? Could explain the piquant wit!! ;)

Tim Mills
6th Oct 2014, 21:52
Thanks, Danny.

Dan Winterland
7th Oct 2014, 02:36
I can't believe that after all these years on PPRuNe, I've never looked at this thread. It's prodictively filling a very dull day off down route.

I had to have a chuckle at the reminisces of the QGH approach (roughly page 12) and how some people were still using it in the 70's. At EFTS RAF Swinderby, we were still using it as late as 1993.One of our Chipmunks while flying the procedure had a near miss with a Scampton Jet Provost which was flying the ILS onto their 05. It turned out there had been a mistake and that the procedures overlapped. Someone had assumed that we were no longer using such an outdated procedure, but it was the only way we had of getting below cloud.

In fact, this thread shows that not a lot had changed in fitty years of RAF flying training. We were still using taildraggers equipped with cartridge starters and the 1938 standard blind flying panel, and some of the taller students had to wear just the MK1 cloth inner helmet. However, the product was good and our students with just 63 hours had an excellent pass rate at the later stages of training.

The syllabus had the first solo at 10:45 and most seemed to achieve it in less.

Danny42C
7th Oct 2014, 03:45
Typhoon93,

Welcome Aboard ! (you must be about our youngest member - and can look forward to being our Oldest Inhabitant ca '85 if the Thread lasts that long (and you always remeber to fly ''Low and Slow, with plenty of Top Rudder on the Corners'') - and listen to the Ancient Aviator over in the corner, bearing in mind the fact that he is Still Here while many others are Not....D.

airborne_artist, (aged 15, forsooth !) .

Very glad to hear it ! - and I bet in Annapolis, too; (but then the True Blue always had its head screwed on). If ever there was a case of victory being snatched from the jaws of defeat, it was this - the USN was top dog in the Pacific ever after.....D.

Fareastdriver,

I don't recall any G meters in any of the Meteors (4s and 7s) or Vampires (IIIs and Vs) I flew, but then my last Vamp was in Sep '52 and Meteor in Nov '54. Would that tie-in ? (Nor any bang-seats either, come to that). But I do remember often greying-out on pull-out from a dive in the VVs. I never heard of anyone actually blacking out (well, you wouldn't I suppose - it sounds a bit Irish !). I would think if you tried to pull any more G in one of those, the well known"mushing" effect would negate the increased angle of attack.....D.


Camlobe,

What can I say ? I just described it how it was to the best of my recollection, it was just my luck that the twists and turns of reality are often not only stranger, but much funnier than any fiction you could invent.

Sadly, "all good things must come to an end" - sometime - and memory is finite. Yet the odd "flash back" may come to me in future to amplify my Posts, in which case I may edit in a bit more text. Who knows ?

HMCE was a whole new world, and I am not going to tell any regular story, but may put in amusing or interesting bits from time to time (no promises, though - Enough is Enough !)

On behalf of my generation, I must repeat that it was only blind chance that had put us in the "hot seat" (rather than the next, or the next after that; the one before had its own rough time), and so enabled us to earn Churchill's undying words of praise: ".......Men will still say: 'This was their finest hour'...." (and the old chap hadn't done badly himself !)

So I accept your gratitude, on behalf of my entire age-group, for the kind words you all have heaped upon us , who have lived through those times which now fade into history. On their behalf: Thank You, Sir !

Now for the wrap-up.......D.

Fareastdriver,

Yes, things have been getting a bit hectic. But isn't that exactly what a Forum is all about (even in a disembodied form such as our Crewroom in Cyberspace). It has never been healthier than now, although it has had some lean times in the 2½ years I have been aboard. But it must always have as its centre the raconteurs which feed the flames of chat and comment (and, yes, contradiction - but always polite).

That is why those who have the stories (like you) must put them in the pool to keep the thing alive - it cannot keep going without you. And all you youngsters must realise - "It's Later than you Think" - time flies !

It has been the special genius of our Moderators to recognise what Cliffnemo's (RIP) Thread of six years ago was turning into, and they could rapidly have choked it off by too rigid insistence on strict adherence to its rather narrow title, but they have wisely refrained from doing so - and now look at what we've got !

Never (AFAIK) outside Page 1 or 2 of "Military Aircrew", lately extended to "Military Aviation" (and who could cavil at that); the most Posts and "hits" of any Thread bar "Caption Competition" (and that's a special case, as it naturally brings in a host of one-liners and hits - doesn't everybody look-in every time they log-in ?)

Your story of the barrel-rolled Varsity was going around in my day: the form in which I heard it had it that a later pilot who'd not heard of the affair came down complaining of the odd "trim" of his aircraft : they investigated and found the fin and rudder 7° out of vertical. (This is typical of a flaky story, the teller seeks to convince the hearers of the truth of his yarn by quoting "exact" figures). Where have we noticed this in another context ? Politics, perhaps ?

Seriously, a 707 has been barrel-rolled by a Boeing Test Pilot; there are inside photographs of it inverted to prove it. I suppose there is nothing in principle to prevent anything being barrel-rolled, so long as you keep +1G to +2G, and no more on all the time, but the pax (or your Company !) may not like it.....D.


cockney steve,

Your :

"the illuminated windows spelt V A T several storeys hight, many storeys high".

Rather a neat idea (with the taxpayer paying for the electricity !). I spent my first year with them in Old Trafford (Manchester) in a mini skyscraper, but we didn't think of that (and anyway it would have made us a target for the IRA, which were waging a mainland campaign at the time

"fuel was dispensed from ancient clock-face pumps". Them were the days !

"He laughed and said "NO! I'm actually a VATman!!!!" Some of us were almost human.

"Wasn't you, Danny? around 1980? (Apologies for thread-drift)"

No, in '74 we got back to North Yorkshire, and have never left......D.

MPN11

Your:

"Hello, hello, has Danny42C been rumbled as a Eye reader? Could explain the piquant wit!!"

Wit attributable to Hiberian ancestry. Not seemly for a servant of the Crown to be seen reading such subversive literature !....D.

Tim Mills,

You're welcome, Tim !....D.


Goodnight to you all, (Good morning to Tim), Danny.

Hydromet
7th Oct 2014, 06:56
Danny, Sir, thank you for both your, and your fellows' actions, and your great narrative. I wish you the best, and sincerely hope we haven't heard the last. You could make the minutes of a meeting of the Apple & Pear Board interesting.

Fareastdriver
7th Oct 2014, 15:53
Hands up all those who have been on a Chinese Air Base……………No, I thought not.

There was a requirement by an oil company to survey a exploration rig. It was located the other side of Bo Hai and we could not carry enough fuel to go there and back with the necessary diversion fuel. We could have flown to the rig and then carried on to Dalian but it would have taken a long time. Our sister company organisers came up with Shanghaiguan, a Chinese Air Force base on the northern coast.

Shanghaiguan is where ‘The Dragon Drinks From the Sea’, or where the Great Wall ends on the coast. When the peasants revolted and in 1644 overran Beijing the Ming Emperor Chongzen committed suicide by hanging himself. His general Wu Sangui open the gates at Shanghaiguan and let in the Manchu army. Emperor Shunzhi of the Manchu then became the first Emperor of the Q’ing Dynasty, the last dynasty of China.

We launched up the coast to the base. They had an ILS but my FO explained that it was only switched on in bad weather. We landed, taxied past rows of Nanchang Q-5s and were then marshalled onto a spot.

I will not go too deep describing what I saw for three reasons:
1. I was their guest and it would be inappropriate to disclose anything that may have been confidential.
2. At the turn of the century there was a massive overhaul of the PLA’s T&Cs to recruit and retain the calibre of personnel required for an increasingly technical and sophisticated service.
3. I have a long term multi-entry Chinese visa and I want to keep it.

We had a small crowd around us and one of them had gone to college with my FO. This meant that he, and the other pilots, spoke English as well as he did. The fuel bowser was old, our company had scrapped the same type, 6 cyl side valve motor, a couple of years before, but it was immaculate and they did a water check of the fuel before me. I had all the pilots in the cockpit, Flight Directors, GPS, twin channel autopilot and weather radar was unknown to them. I did not ask to have a look at a Q-5. I knew that they would have to refuse and I wanted to save them the embarrassment of doing so. We then went to their mess for some refreshment.

The station surroundings were plain enough. As normal, with my previous experience of Chinese bases, no hangers. Some aircraft appeared to be used continually with others parked with full wing and fuselage covers.

The officer’s mess was a bit Spartan. It seemed to consist of little more than an ante room and a dining hall, the accommodation being huts out at the back. As usual with any conversation with Chinese the question would come round to how much I was paid so I told them. The ripple of jaws hitting the floor was something to behold. It was established that the equivalent of a Fg. Off. was paid about 350 yuan a month. As a comparison I paid my housekeeper 200 yuan to come it five mornings a week. 350 yuan at that time was just over £23. However, poorly paid or not all of them were saying how proud they were to be in the Air Force and serve the people.

We said our goodbyes and departed. Immediately after takeoff I flew over the coastal fortress which was the end of the Wall. The wall itself had been quarried, leaving a continuous earthen mound and in the distance you could see the ruined towers climbing up the hills.

The rig was a disaster. Chinese owned and operated it had had zero maintenance since they had bought it. None of the fire extinguishers or the refuelling kit worked and down below the plastic floor coverings in the corridors had worn through to the steel decking. I was quite glad when they had finished and we flew back to Tanggu.

A week or so after that we came to the end of the contract. I used what remained of my cash float to hire a couple of taxis and take my engineers to see the Forbidden City and the Great Wall. After a night out at Beijing Hard Rock we returned and the next day started preparing to fly the aircraft right across China back to Shenzhen.

Geriaviator
7th Oct 2014, 16:36
What a surprise ... returning to this wonderful thread after my major overhaul over the summer has kept me absorbed for most of the day, the downside being Danny's Swan Song.

Hopefully there are more old hands like Fareastdriver with his fascinating tales of China Station, and equally hopefully Danny will still make the occasional circuit and landing.

To you, Sir, and other pPruners who have sent their good wishes, my sincere thanks. Geriaviator is now restored to full power after a period of running-in, his rate of climb restored to that of a decade ago thanks to the 22ins length of pipe removed from his right leg in order to re-plumb his hydraulic pump.

Apparently the body can form new veins to compensate for the spare part, leaving only an impressive scar. And there's another length of pipe in the left leg, showing remarkable foresight by the manufacturer. My very pretty nurse Jenny suggests I should put it on eBay :rolleyes:

blind pew
7th Oct 2014, 17:06
I too would like to thank Danny for his stories...along with many others including Cliff and Regie ---they have answered (and posed) why the 1970s were how they were for me.
My apologies for the belated thanks but I've been throwing myself off a mountain in Bassano del Grappa.
I was employed by BEA which had a terrible accident rate and I managed to escape the fold to the VC10 as BA was formed. BOAC had made several deliberate changes in the late sixties to stem their horrific accident rate...it worked.
I initially flew at Hamble with ex fighter and ground attack pilots whose instructing abilities were, by and large, excellent BUT...there was always the keep stumm mentality.
We had some real bomber command Gents including Prince Georges grandfather but more than our fair share of pilots who understood little about training and safety....which I gleaned from the thread was fairly common.
Fareastdriver;
It was at Hamble that I found myself upside down (involuntary) for the first time. In a twin engined D55 Baron during a straight and level clean stall.....obviously someone had overstressed it - probably trying a barrel roll. I reported it to my instructor who looked at it, shrugged his shoulders and walked off.
We also had a practically new bent PA28 Cherokee ....the college in it's wisdom had decided that spin training was reserved for later in the course and only on the Chipmunk....bloggs on my course got into a spiral dive which he thought was a spin and applied full power. Naturally he didn't report it.
The second occasion the sky moved for me was in a Grob twin Astir flying out of the Cape gliding club at Worcester...when a particularly violent thermal rolled us inverted at 200ft AGL....interesting when you hear a "bang" and see your pupil's camelback sitting above your head.
Cockneysteve;
I worked on the building of Chartwell Square after they destroyed the Victorian Arcade at Southend....the council and their mates had a "master plan" of getting rid of the tourists - mainly East Enders - for the good of Southend - a cynical person might say their aim was to line their pockets. The open corruption was incredible and eventually the chief constable was sentenced to two years and the police force was disbanded.
I had dealings with the VAT people who were very pleasant and a school chum's father was something big having been posted down from Liverpool.
Last time I was down in Sarfend it appears as Stobart has reversed the decline...good luck to him.
I was paragliding last week with a guy whose father in law is involved with the Arnold scheme society...but best of all was the instructor...half my age, 1/5 of my hours and a real "geezer" from Romford...he was refreshing and destroyed the old adage that "you can't teach an old dog new tricks"...but interestingly enough he said that he had never met a pilot who said "I messed up" or words to that effect - he obviously hasn't been on this thread ;)

Typhoon93
7th Oct 2014, 17:36
Thank you, Sir!

I am really enjoying reading your accounts of the War.

Dan Winterland
7th Oct 2014, 23:19
Hands up all those who have been on a Chinese Air Base……………No, I thought not.

My hand is up!

Fareastdriver
8th Oct 2014, 19:06
Whilst we were living it up in Beijing First Officer Wang, with a senior pilot from China Ocean Helicopter Corp, our sister company, was in Tanjian airport planning our return. The plot was that we would fly to Zhangxiaoji to refuel, continue on to Shanghai, refuel again and then carry on to Wenzhou were COHC had another operation. There we would night stop. The next morning, Wang would remain and First Officer Jing would fly with me to Shenzhen.

It was January, 6th Jan 1997 to be precise and Northern China was in the middle of winter. The temperature overnight would drop to minus 15 and in the morning it would rocket up to about plus 2. My engineers were coming with me so after the goodbyes we punched orft daun sauf.

There is no such thing as general air traffic in China. A minimum of twelve hours notice is required and one always flies airways under IFR. We climbed just south of Tianjin and we joined the airway at our allocated height of 2,500 metres, approx, 8,200 ft, which was the minimum flight level going south. The temperature at that height was about -5 but as the Siberian High was established there was no cloud up to that level. The scenery was miserable; miles and miles of paddy as far as one could see, all in orderly rectangular pattern.

After a couple hours or so the cloudbase dropped and we started to run into streaks of status. The reaction of the centre windscreen, unheated, was instantaneous and it immediately fogged out with ice. This was followed by the mirror supports and the door hinges building up wedges of the stuff. Poor old Wang was having kittens. He, with his fellow students, had been listening with horror to their Chinese Navy instructor reeling off the horrors and the certain death that icing would bring to helicopters. Which I thought was strange, as they were taught on Russian designed helicopters that were built for blundering through the tundra. I wasn’t worried, this was peanuts compared to the North Sea and the aircraft, still in North Sea fit, had all the gizmos; ice detectors, mirrors to check the intake chip baskets, etc etc. To make him feel better I splashed some water onto my flying glove, stuck it out of my window where the water immediately froze. I then brought it in and flicked my fingers to show how easily the ice came off. Relieved he came back from the cockpit roof and carried on with his navigating and I surreptitiously shoved my hand between my backside and the seat cushion to try to get some feeling back in my fingers.

We then had our clearance to descend towards Zhangxiouji. This was a small military airfield in the middle of absolutely nowhere. As we taxied in Wang was discussing something with ATC and merely said there was a problem. As we shut down everybody was staring at us with open mouths. We had flown with a COHC callsign and the last thing they had expected was a British registered aircraft with a Western captain. The ‘problem’ was fairly serious. Wang had filed, and it had been accepted for the days flying, but Zhangxiouji had not received the onward flight plan.

I left my engineers to sort out the refuel and I stood, ankle deep in air traffic’s dog-ends in the tower. Wang was on the blower trying to sort something out and I had a look around. Apart from the ATC staff there seemed little evidence of any military activity. At the end of the building there were two rows of H-5 (il26) bombers in an advanced state of disrepair and behind them were a clutch of Shenyang J-5s (Mig 17) in a similar condition. It indicated that it may have been a training base once upon a time but they had moved on. On the near horizon was what I took to be the local town. Bleak, grey, with few buildings above two floors. I thought that if we had to night stop here we would be lucky to find 0.5 star hotel, if at all.

Wang struck lucky! Shanghai would not accept us because of the twelve hour rule but Changzhou would. We might not be able to get any further but at least it was civilised. Without further ado, because there were no catering facilities and we were dying of starvation, we got airborne.

Changzhou was a mixed military and civil airport. Something I found out as I taxied past a row of H-5 (Tu-16) bombers. The aircraft were immaculate, as was the ground equipment; even the wheel nuts had been painted. I turned on to the hardstanding and there was one of the prettiest terminal buildings I had ever seen. It was built like a Chinese pavilion with flying ridges and in front was a moat with bridges to the gates. We decided to have lunch whilst the going was good and after a ridiculously cheap repast in a beautiful restaurant we went up to the tower to see what the state of play was.

Shanghai wasn’t playing ball and because they controlled the airway halfway to Xiamin we could not cross that either to get to Wenzhou. We spent the afternoon trying various combinations to get to Wenzhou but they were all blocked by the 12 hour rule. At about five I decided that we were going to have to night stop and just after the engineers had gone out to put the blade socks on we got a call from ATC saying we were clear to go.

Shanghai had just got our original flight plan from Tianjin. We couldn’t go to Shanghai, we didn’t need to, but they did give us clearance to fly IFR through their Area. By the time we had ascertained that Wenzhou would be open at our ETA it was dark when we took off and this time with the mountains the minimum level was 3,000 metres, just over 9,800 ft. There was a long discussion with Shanghai control. He thought a 332 was an Airbus and he was trying to push us up to 7,000 metres. When he was corrected he could not believe that a helicopter was flying at that height, IFR and at night.

I thought about it to myself as well. In the RAF the maximum height without oxygen was 10,000 ft and on the QNH we were above that. Also we weren’t supposed to fly above 4,000 ft at night.

We were having to change our squawk quite often, more for identification than any other reason. Our track was taking us across the westerly routes from Shanghai and pointing directly at Taiwan. Apart from that it was uneventful until we were handed over to Wenzhou.

They wouldn’t answer. Wang then got on to the HF and started talking to the company ops in Shenzhen. They phoned the operation in Wenzhou and they confirmed that the airfield was all lit up. I pressed on and joined the procedure for the ILS and to my relief the ILS kicked in. At about five miles the runway lights started appearing from the gloom and still with no contact with the airfield I landed and turned off to the company hardstanding. After a few minutes all the airfield lights went out. I subsequently found out that all the air traffickers had gone home leaving a minion to turn out the lights after we had landed.

Two of the COHC engineers had British licences so they would look after the aircraft whilst I and my engineers checked into the airport hotel. It was farewell to Wang as he would stay in the company hotel down the road. It was too late for the hotel restaurant so we went to the ‘Garages’ by the airport entrance.

The Garages were a row of open fronted shop units now used as chop houses. The menu was simple. There was a table with all the raw materials they had laid out and you went from one to the other pointing out what you wanted cooking. Simple wooden tables and chairs were the furnishings and outside the single door at the back was the midden. That was where you treated the rats to a warm shower. The last time I had been there about a year previously we were entertained by a mother rat chasing her brood across the floor and carrying them back to her nest under the freezer. The food was, as before, brilliant and we retired for the night.

I have already posted, possibly on this thread, the next day’s flight down to Shenzhen. I can’t find it, off hand, but if anybody know where it is it would save me having to compose it again.

Danny42C
9th Oct 2014, 02:08
Geriaviator,

Grand to see you back, and congratulations on a good job well done (on you !). As you see, the pot is now bubbling nicely: you'll have a bit of catching up to do.

My Swan song had to come one day, but the old bird has a few squawks still in him.

Now don't go putting your name down for the Marathon or anything like that. Take it easy ! Play yourself in gently ! (Good men are scarce - there aren't many of us left).

Regards to you and to your wife, Danny.

Danny42C
9th Oct 2014, 02:11
Fareastdriver,

What a wonderful start ! I can see that we're all in for a real treat with your future Posts, so keep up with the Good work - for we are "all ears".

I'm a complete stranger as far as helicopters are involved (and never flown in one even as a passenger), so my comments will have to be simple. But, generally, what was your impression of the skill standard of the F/Os you worked with vis-a-vis their American and European counterparts ? (please do not reply if it would put your visa at risk !) And did you do much fixed-wing flying out there, or was it all helicopter ? (perhaps I'd do better to wait and see !)

Thank you again for a view into a corner of the aviation world which is for most of us completely unknown.

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
9th Oct 2014, 19:42
blind pew,

Your #6304:

"I've been throwing myself off a mountain in Bassano del Grappa" . At your age ? Tell us all about it ! (You haven't being overdoing the grappa :ok:, I hope).

Ciao, Danny.

Fareastdriver
9th Oct 2014, 20:35
I have found the post from about a year ago. It was an abbreviated version so this time you are going to suffer the whole hog.

I had flown from Wenzhou to Shenzhen before. Down the airway to Xiamin for lunch and onwards via Shantou, where we would leave the airways and proceed directly to out heliport. The Chinese engineers had done the after flight and had valeted the aircraft. I had decided that wearing my best uniform with all the gold rings would create the best impression at airports so I travelled in that. Jing and I, my engineers plus a Chinese engineer who was returning to Shenzhen then took off in this gleaming jewel of an aircraft.

The airways south of Wenzhou are quite severe as you are passing Taiwan. Defections were always the risk; an Air China captain had taken his 737 there about the same time and it was absolutely imperative to fly along the centre line. Any deviation to the east would raise a warning and any further divergence would make you the centre of attraction of the PLAAF. The Chinese airliners, at that time not equipped with satnav, would ensure that they were flying along the western side of the airways always secure in the knowledge that their male air stewards were armed.

There is a ridge of mountains down the East coast of China cut by rivers draining the hinterland. The flat areas were put over to paddy but once the ground started rising the ripples of terracing would show. The airway did not go direct to Xiamin owing to proximity of Taiwan and also the Nationalist held island just offshore so you passed abeam, turned towards the airfield and entered the procedure.

Xiamin used to be known by Europeans as Amoy. It is where Hakka is spoken and where the Chinese in Singapore hail from. It was one the first four Special economic Zones it had prospered to an outstanding degree. Now it is regarded as one of the best cities to live in China. The airport was magnificent, even more so now, and after confirming our onward flight plan we retired for lunch.

Because we were carrying a Chinese engineer it was now an official CHOC flight. This meant that Jing had a big wad of cash to cover expenses en-route, especially lunch. Comments like, ‘that’s no good, it’s not expensive enough’ were banded about. We didn’t go overboard but I did enjoy my lobster. After lunch we gathered together and went to the aircraft. We called up Xiamin Ground for start clearance; it was refused, there is a delay.

We tried again in ten minutes with the same answer. Not having a ground power unit plugged in Jing and I left everybody in the aircraft and went up seven flights to the air traffic control room. It was explained to us that the PLAAF had called a no notice exercise and all the airspace over Shantou below 5,000 meters was closed.

It wasn’t new. I had been stuck offshore for hours because my return airspace had been shut off by some exercise or other. However, they had always finished at 17.00 hrs because it was time for dinner. On that basis I expected to leave at that time so I went back with some more of Jing’s money and dispatched then to the terminal restaurant.

It was tactful to stay in the tower and the staff took the opportunity to practise their conversational and procedural English on me. There were quite a lot of them. They were controlling arrivals, departures plus the airways traffic from Wehzou to Shantou. They seemed to work in staggered thirty minutes shifts, retiring to the back of the room for a chat and a drink. Occasionally there would be a rapid changeover of seats when an aircraft came on frequency requiring an English speaking controller. Like all offices, workplaces and sometimes cockpits in China at the time visibility was fairly restricted in cigarette smoke.

We kept badgering away trying to get a clearance but the PLA were having none of it. It was now getting late and the spectre of yet another possible night stop was appearing. Our gallant band had returned optimistically to the aircraft and we went down to appraise then of the situation. The Chinese engineer was more concerned as he was returning to Shenzhen because his father was ill. There was a long conversation between him and Jing ending with Jing handing him a wad of money.

I thought nothing more of it and we went back up to the tower. It was now past 18.00 hrs and still no sign of the airspace being opened. In fact ATC were sure that it was going to be closed all night. I was just about to call it a day when our Chinese engineer came in with a slab of Coke and a carton of Marlborough. Jing took them off him and started handing them around the room. Five minutes later the one I assumed was SATCO came in with an enroute chart with a track pencilled in direct from Xiamin to a Shenzhen approach procedure entry point. This was apparently a ‘special route’ that had been cleared for us to use. Jing worked out the times, we put in the flight plan and twenty minutes later we launched into the night.

I have no idea what the scenery was like. It was dark and there were not a lot of lights. The dinners that COHC had treated the staff of Shenzhen ATC paid off. We undertook two or three scheduled arrivals followed by an ILS to the runway with a go around to 200 metres, then visual to the heliport.

Fortunately the heliport was situated between the Shenzhen to Guangzhou expressway and the Shenzhen Nantou eight lane connecting road. It made the unlit runway easier to find, assisted by Epsom who had a big illuminated sign on the roof their factory near the eastern end of the runway. The aircraft landing lights picked up the rest and we taxied in as the night shift came out of the hanger. It had been assumed that we were night stopping at Xiamin so everybody had gone home.

The offices were open and a look at the accommodation roster indicated that I was allocated 6-4 Hai Fei, an apartment we rented. The engineers had found our driver and we all bundled in to return to Shekou. We normally lived two to an apartment so I expected my sharer to be there. He wasn’t, so I couldn’t get in. I knocked up next door and a Chinese family answered. I explained with sign language as best as I could that I did not have a key and would they look after my bags whilst I found it. They seem to agree I and I left them there confident that I hadn’t asked them to help themselves to the contents.

We always had a standbye pilot so I went to his apartment and he didn’t have the keys but he did know I had the place to myself. There were only a couple of people left who would have the keys so I had to find them. There were not a lot of places to go to at that time of night in Shekou apart from the ‘dark side’. There then followed the spectacle of an airline pilot in full regalia going from girly bar to girly bar looking for somebody who had his keys and I had lots of offers.

I found my chief pilot in one of the lower temperature establishments and he had a set of keys for me. Back to the apartment building, next door gave me my kit back and I had finally arrived.

First Officer, now Captain Wang is the Chief Pilot at the Shanghai Search and Rescue Operation. First Officer, now Captain Jing is a Senior Pilot and Training Captain at Shenzhen.

Both of them are worth their weight in gold.

Danny42C
10th Oct 2014, 02:19
Fareastdriver,

Lovely story!

Call it "Backsheesh", "Dash", "Bung", "Backhander", "Bribery" - it always worked, and always will. "The dinners that COHC had treated the staff of Shenzhen ATC paid off" says it all (and read regle (RIP) page 35, #692).

Apart from the "sea-green incorruptibles" of the West; over the rest of the World this is perfectly normal behaviour (indeed it is expected). We have to live with it.

Danny.

Danny42C
10th Oct 2014, 19:04
The last few weeks slipped by. I went round saying my goodbyes. The Station Commander (name esapes me) and I had a long chat. I think he was coming up for retirement, too: we agreed that the pension battle (againt the old principle of "immutability") had largely been won.

But even so, they would not be increased in line with inflation (RPI) until we reached 55, when the compounded increases from 50 would be put into effect - but no back payment of these increases ! As inflation was really getting into its stride between '72 and '76, the effect was almost to double my pension when I reached 55.

Now, in homage to Cliff RIP (the onlie begetter of this Thread), and following the way he started it, I will put myself back in my old favourite Spitfire. I've landed and taxied onto the line:

The Marshaller signals me to turn into whichever "slot" he wants me in; I creep forward until raised crossed arms signal "Stop". Throttle closed, hold wheelbrakes on while he scurries round with the chocks and gives me the "thumb up". Release brakes, push mixture full forward into Idle Cut-off. Engine dies at once, and that momentary last acrid gasp from the exhaust stacks bites my nostrils. Switches off; close both fuel taps; unlock harness and chute quick release boxes; check oxygen and radio 'off'; lock AH and DI (if I hadn't done it before); and lastly GROUND/FLIGHT to 'Ground'.

All is quiet, apart from the dying whine of the gyros in the panel, and some occasional clicking of the cooling stacks. The Bowser has come up now.

Disconnect oxygen tube and radio plug, shrug off harnesses, open side flap and climb out onto wing. Lift my chute out and jump down. One of my ground crew is waiting: "Any snags, sir ?"...."No, it's fine, Jim" (broad grin).

I sling my chute over my shoulder and walk off. I shall not pass this way again.

There is no one in the Flight Office, the Authorisation Book lies open on Flight Commander's desk. "DCO" and initial. That's it.

Goodnight, chaps.

Danny42C.


All Good Things Must Come to an End.

(But we've not gone yet !)

Union Jack
10th Oct 2014, 22:54
Danny

Like every single one of your marvellous posts** - perfecto!:ok::ok:

All the best and a thousand thanks

Jack

PS Actually 1671 of them as of now, but please don't stop there......

MPN11
11th Oct 2014, 09:13
Danny42C ... how do you invariably manage to put a smile on my face when you post? ;)

Thank you again for getting today off to a good start! :ok:

Wander00
11th Oct 2014, 09:14
Many thanks Danny. Take care


W

Chugalug2
11th Oct 2014, 11:04
Danny42C:-
This is my first Post: be gentle with me!
I've followed this Thread with delight and admiration since joining the ranks of the Geriatric Surfers five months ago. My daughter is instructing me -(how are the mighty fallen, it seems only yesterday that I was taking the stabilisers off her bike!). I'm not very good at this yet.
My pen name gives a clue, I can hear the groans: "Not another of these Arnold Scheme/B.F.T.S. characters". 'Fraid so. But seeing that another contributor might be welcome (and seeing the suggestion that the thread might be expanded from "Gaining your brevet in WWII" (made by Cliff, the "onlie begetter", and others, I've decided to put my oar in (if Mr Moderator will have me).
This is what I can put on the table:
26,000 words on training to OTU.
54,000 words on wartime India and dive bomber operations in Burma.
28,000 words on postwar RAF service.
Don't worry, it's not ready yet. I have to finish editing, then get it transferred from floppy disk onto a CD-Rom (it was produced on my faithful old "Starwriter"), then hope that some kind soul can tell me how to "park"
the lot somewhere where PPruners can reach it, (but nobody else).
Meanwhile, I suggest I feed in bite-sized chunks into this Thread, from time to time. What do you think?

I was born within sound of the "Bootle Bull". Cliff will tell you what that means. There must have been something in the air of Liverpool. I believe he hails from there, as did Reg (Requiescat in Pace). And Reg must have been at Blackpool Grammar School when I was at St. Joseph's College. I was in the First XV. I wonder...
I like Cliff's idea of a little old 'bon mot' to round it off.
You'll be all right on a big Station. So the prospectus laid out in your first post (p114, some 2 years and 9 months ago) has been more than delivered in full. Thank you for taking us along that journey with you Danny, truly the long journey of everyman. For though it is obviously your story, I have felt from the start that it was also the story of your remarkable generation, faced with either confronting the evil that threatened freedom worldwide or simply submitting to it. As a generation you chose the former and each and everyone of you became a tiny cog in an enormous machine that spanned the globe. The machine prevailed, but only thanks to each and every cog doing its duty, doing its best.

So thank you for that Danny, and thank you for telling your tale in such an enjoyable and entertaining way. Above all thanks for the modesty in the telling which was such an integral part of your posts because it is clearly such an integral part of you. Again, a quality so typical of your generation...

gzornenplatz
11th Oct 2014, 21:39
Today I looked at danny42C's first post. October 2012. Aged 92. Danny's most recent post - October 2014. Still aged 92. Birthday November. Explanation, por favor.

DHfan
11th Oct 2014, 22:09
Date of birth is in poster's profile, if they've put it in. It updates automatically and displays current age.

Danny42C
12th Oct 2014, 00:02
gzornenplatz,

I may be wrong, but I think that each time your birthday comes round, all previous Posts are uplifted to your current age.

So when I hit 93 next month, all my earlier Posts will click up to 93.

D.

mmitch
12th Oct 2014, 10:28
Danny, Another side track I am afraid! Interesting story from India.
Wreckage sites of 3 WW-II fighter planes at Loktak Lake identified - The Times of India (http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Wreckage-sites-of-3-WW-II-fighter-planes-at-Loktak-Lake-identified/articleshow/44672588.cms)
I expect that it went unnoticed at the time?
mmitch.

Danny42C
12th Oct 2014, 22:07
Union Jack,

Of course, the 1671 includes many comments, questions and answers to queries as well as my Main Story Posts. It might have been useful if I'd serially numbered these from the outset, but I suppose I could always tot them up as I've signed off "Danny42C" only on those Posts; the "spin-offs" are all ended "Danny".

I'm really humbled by the appreciation that everybody has shown of my efforts, but still must maintain (as Chugalug has well put it a few Posts later) that I was only a cog in the vast machine that was the wartime RAF. There were a million other untold stories in those years every bit as interesting - and more - than mine that never can be told now. And so it continued post-war.

To quote Churchill's famous words (at Fulton, Missouri ?): "It was the British People that had the Lion's Heart........It fell to me to supply the Roar ". On a much smaller scale, it seems that it may have fallen to me to supply a squeak or two on behalf of the millions that proudly marched behind that truly Great Man (and I am grateful for that)....D.

MPN11,

Mainly because: "Funny things happen to me on my way to the theatre" (and usually they're a lot funnier than the act itself) "

Glad to have brightened your day !........D.

Wander00,

Thanks for the kind words. Will Prenez Garde.....D.

Chugalug,

First, thank you for the advice in your very helpful PM, which I am studying carefully before my reply.

I'm gratified that my stories have given pleasure and entertainment to so many of my readers, but as the son of a County Cork father and a Lancashire mother, I can only claim a half share in Kipling's stirring words on behalf of my generation:

"Greater the deed, greater the need,
Lightly to laugh it away.
Shall be the mark of the English breed,
Until the Judgment Day".

Our greatest contempt has always been reserved for those among us who made a habit of "Blowing their own Trumpet" or (rather less elegantly: "bumming their load"). This expression seems have long gone out out of use, and I don't know the derivation. In the same way, the rule in respect of gallantry medal ribbons seen on the left breast has always been: "Never Ask, never Tell". It is sufficient to know that the recipient has gained the award, the details are no business of yours...D.

mmitch,

Wll have a look at this Link - thanks...D.

Goodnight to you all, Danny.

smujsmith
12th Oct 2014, 23:00
"To quote Churchill's famous words (at Fulton, Missouri ?): "It was the British People that had the Lion's Heart.......It fell to me to supply the Roar". What a great quote, and truly apt, to quote Danny. Few of us now following this thread can truly contribute, from the point of actual experience, as you can, we can only assimilate and contemporise from our own experience. Perhaps, with deference to the history of this thread, the title needs to have "and beyond" added, perhaps we could then continue the flow through to current times. A true record of significance. I'm sure there are many who served after WW2, in the RAF, who have tales to tell, that reflect on the training and subsequent operational experiences. Can the thread be expanded ? I know the moderators have been more than amenable to various posts which seem to diverge from heading! I'm sure though that Cliffnemo and regle would have a little chuckle at how their story has become the best thread on PPRUNE, and, how many diversities it has undergone through the process. Like everyone, you are entitled to a "tea and wad" after a splendid bat, allowing yourself the luxury of picking your points to intercede. I'm sure that there must be pilots out there, who have followed this thread, who earned their wings in the years following WW2, who could show how pilot training changed (if it ever did), what parts of RAF pilot training were influenced, and changed as a result of the success of training in the USA during WW2? I think that such contributions could help shape our understanding of current policy. I do believe there is a policy, and I'm certain that buried in it somewhere are lessons from 42C and its like all those years ago. Sorry for the diatribe, but that Churchill quote is so apt to this thread. Stay well and keep up the posts Danny

Smudge:ok:

Fareastdriver
14th Oct 2014, 12:38
As I mentioned in a previous post I witnessed the transformation of Chinese aviation from an organisation that Hong Kong CAA advised us not to fly on to one of the worlds leaders in air safety. They have done this by studying and incorporating western standards of operation and, as in my case, using western personnel to supervise and train to that standard.

My experience on fixed wing was limited as a passenger. I have already mentioned the Shanghai Wuhan flight. On another with a Yak 42 I opened the overheads to put my bag in and you could see the frames and stringers. When I exited the door at my destination I looked along the fuselage and you could see the lumps sticking out where hard cases had been thrown in. On one occasion departing Luzhou before the terminal was built the hardstanding was by the end of the runway. The cabin attendant had given her passenger brief and was proceeding up the aisle checking seat belts when the captain opened the taps for takeoff whilst he was in the turn for line up so she ended up on my lap. I thought the safest thing for her was for me to hold on to her. She struggled for a second but came to my way of thinking, (partially) and stayed there until we were established in the climb. Nowadays that couldn’t happened as on my travels around China this year the service has been excellent. Sometimes the passengers aren’t the best behaved in the world but for millions such an experience is still new.

So it was with our pilots. When I first arrived the Chinese pilots were experienced ex military pilots. My operation was effectively run by a British company (Bristow) to North Sea standards because the oil companies were mainly American and they demanded that assurance. (There’s gotta be white eyes up front) There soon reached a stage where the better English speaking pilots were entitled to command the aircraft and at that time they were all British registered. The company then brought them to the UK where they went though the entire procedure to obtain CAA ALTP(H)s. This would be hard going for anybody but especially so for someone to whom English is not their first language. This was accepted by the relevant oil companies with good grace and then the Chinese company bought their own aircraft. They were the same type, but different instruments, because at the time all Chinese aircraft had dials in metres and kilometres. To maintain flexibility that meant the British pilots had to get endorsements by the Chinese CAA (CAAC). This lasted for over a decade until CAAC decided to go with the rest of world and insist on a Chinese licence after six months. Fortunately the examinations were in English.

The ex-military first officers without a working knowledge of English were not so fortunate and they continued as second dicky. It also meant that you had to have an interpreter on board. At that time all ATC was in Chinese so you asked the interpreter to ask your co-pilot for a clearance. There would then be a prolonged conversation with air traffic and eventually you may get the clearance you requested. I had one of the captains with me and we were discussing an island that had an old military block and a helipad, long disused. He said the when he was in the Navy he used to fly there. It was established that whilst he was in the Navy he achieved about 1,000 hrs over fifteen years, and most of that is what he called training. In the PLA a pilot is under training until he gets command and that includes years as a co-pilot.

We had a new batch of first officers in 1995. They were trainee Navy pilots just past their graduation stage. We needed them because of the requirement to speak English, now becoming a CAAC requirement. With them I was fireproof because I was in my late fifties and age is still one of the major triggers for respect in China. I had trained with Chinese of the RMAF way back when and I had also spent three years in Singapore so I was familiar with the Chinese way of thinking and doing things. There is also the problem of Face. They are not happy when they are told they are doing something wrong without realising it. I found that the best way of correcting them when we were proceeding to certain disaster was to suggest a course of action in such a way that they would think it was their idea. I could let it go quite a long way because at that time I had over 10,000 hrs offshore and 7,000 hrs on that particular type.

They were, however, taught to fly by numbers and what we had to instil into them was co-operation and initiative. When they were released to the Chinese captains they soon found out the difference between the captains who had British licences and North Sea experience compared with the old dogs. However they were retiring and eventually we were left with just the Bristow trained ones.

As time went by I arrived at sixty and retired from the operation. I flew contract in Aberdeen and whilst I was there some of our new co-pilots came for the British licences and NS experience. In 2004 I went back for a social visit and discovered that CAAC would respect a British licence up to the age of sixty five. Coincidentally one of the Bristow pilots had had a argument in a bar, clocked the bar owner and decided that the healthiest thing to do was to leave the country. They were now one pilot short. About a week later I was back in Hong Kong renewing my medical and then I was back on line.

Six months later I was sixty five, my public transport qualification ceased so the same problem came up again. We had an Australian training captain who suggested I go to Australia and get an OZ licence because they last for life. We checked with CAAC and they stated that they would respect an Australian licence so on this I went to Perth After lots of ducking and weaving I got an Australian licence, came back to China and got a Chinese endorsement. Having an OZ licence meant that when it was slack in China I could fly for Bristow (Aus) and that I did. Having extensive military experience I could fly for them in the Solomon Islands on their RAMSI contract. I could also fly for them on the oil support in Karratha.

Over the time from 1998-2006 I was flying contract for Bristow. When I was flying a in China over sixty five I was not allowed to fly a British registered aircraft so I was restricted to the now majority Chinese aircraft. This gave rise to the situation that I was being paid by a major British helicopter company but I was not permitted to fly their aircraft. The situation changed in 2006 when the CAAC demanded that all pilots should get a Chinese licence. This I did and shortly after that Bristow pulled out of China.

There were four of us working in China at the time and COHC offered us contracts we could not refuse to continue with them. I flew with them as commander for a further eighteen months and my last flight on 9th Nov 2008 was three weeks short of the 48th anniversary of my first solo on the 29th Nov 1960 at High Ercall, a place Danny knows of.

The foreign pilots fell off and retired as time went by, the last leaving in March this year. I have been back to see them, the last time this year. They now have three times the work ands three times the aircraft than before. Their new pilots are now trained at the Bristow College in the United States, the Chinese military need their now very highly trained expensive personnel for themselves.

Typhoon93
15th Oct 2014, 00:41
It is sufficient to know that the recipient has gained the award, the details are no business of yours.

I agree with that, Sir. It is one of my pet hates when people ask service personnel (current or former, once a serviceman, always a serviceman, in my view) what they did to be awarded their medals. All we need to know is that they are an ordinary person, that, in a time of great risk to their own life, did an extraordinary thing.

Thank you for your posts on here, Danny, and once again, thank you for your Service.

camlobe
15th Oct 2014, 08:24
FED
Totally enthralling. Now please, can you start at the beginning, and fill in all the details.

Suspect I'm not alone in asking.

Camlobe

ACW418
15th Oct 2014, 08:29
Add me to Camlobe's request. More please.

ACW

gzornenplatz
15th Oct 2014, 09:08
Beware the one known as Typhoon 93. He is a Drelg from the planet Tharg.

Danny42C
16th Oct 2014, 01:45
Smudge,

I am giving thought to exploring the possibility of expanding the title of this Thread to something like: "Gaining a RAF Pilot's Brevet in WW2 and in the Cold War" (which would carry it forward more than a generation frrom '45 to '91). It is becoming increasingly clear that the supply of old-timers who qualify under the old terms (and who by definition must nearly all be aged 90 or more), has dried up, and it is vain to hope for any more.

Either we bring fresh blood in, or the Thread (under its existing Title) must die, and that would be a pity.

Your: ".... the success of training in the USA during WW2....." risks setting me off on a favourite hobby-horse of mine - you may hear a lot more from me about this sometime - but not yet !

There are always lessons from the past, the trouble is that we do not learn them !

I intend to stay well, but there will be no more regular Posts, although I reserve the right to look in from time to time. "Char and Wad" time now.

Goodnight, Danny.

Fareastdriver
16th Oct 2014, 07:08
I shouldn't worry about the thread not lasting, Danny. We have got to have another nine world wars before we catch up with the thread title.

Chugalug2
16th Oct 2014, 08:54
FED, thank you for your posts re flying helicopters in China. When I was at Changi (1963-66) I developed a healthy respect for the Singapore Chinese who were the driving force of the island's economy. In those days they, and the rest of the overseas Chinese, used to remit large amounts of the wealth they created back to the mother country and to their families there. Perhaps that habit still pertains, for family and as you say respect for one's elders is very strong in their culture, but China has come on enormously in the meantime as we are all only too well aware.

The common sense pragmatism that you describe with which China developed its civil aviation is surely the story of China itself in microcosm. What an enormous distance they have travelled since being at the mercy of the Japanese Empire. Of course they still have great contrasts and contradictions to resolve, witness the unrest in HK right now. Of course the Party presides over everything, for better or for worse, but it is clear that China is set to be the world's leading super power, and rather sooner than later I would suggest. Your posts give us an insight as to why that is.

smujsmith
16th Oct 2014, 19:25
Danny #6329,

You are, of course, correct in that should the thread stick to the title then it has a finite timespan. However, as one of many who have followed from #1, I honestly believe that it's continued examination of training and qualification of Royal Air Force Aircrew would always have been the intent once we had "explored most of the envelope" of WW2. I still firmly hope, and believe, that others, who quietly watch, have a story to tell, and might be inclined to contribute to the wealth of experience already recorded. I, as a mere follower, have no idea as to the whims of moderation on PPRUNE, and their likelihood of accepting the extension of this mighty tome. If it were out to a vote, I'm sure that I, along with many others would support such a move.

Until you started posting, I was absolutely unaware of the Vultee Vengence in RAF service, I freely admit I am no historian, but thought I had a decent grasp on RAF history. The fascinating story that followed opened my eyes to how we often miss important contributions in our rush to idolise the more glamorous end of the market. I bet the same would transpire if the thread was extended to years beyond WW2. I'm sure Cliffnemo would approve. Perhaps others have opinions that differ, and all should be heard. But where does it all go from here, hopefully a move forward through time from the WW2 era showing how the Royal Air Force learned, adapted and hopefully improved from the experience of you and your fellow servicemen of the era. Once again, I am guilty of excess verbosity. There must though be many thread followers who have an opinion. My vote is for pushing forward in to history.

Smudge:ok:

Petet
16th Oct 2014, 20:22
I too would be interested to learn more about post war aircrew training as I am trying to understand the approach, training schedules, squadron training, group exercises etc utilised by Bomber Squadrons (my own interest is No 35 Squadron) post war and through the 50's, 60's and 70's.

Very little seems to be documented about this era so ..... hopefully, not too wide a scope for the mods!

Regards

Pete

Chugalug2
17th Oct 2014, 07:31
OK, this is difficult. I fully understand where Danny and Smudge are coming from but, with respect, I have to differ. Cliff started this thread on a very exact premiss, which was to explain the WW2 pilot training system. This got expanded into aircrew training generally and of subsequent operational experience in WW2. That in turn led to post war flying, both within and without military aviation. The starting point was however always per the OP, ie WW2.

I think that is crucial, as most if not all are in awe of that long close run struggle that gave us the freedoms that we enjoy today. That for me is the crux of this thread, how were civilians prepared (in this case to fly) to conduct war on a global scale and to prevail? Nothing since equates to it and thus pales into insignificance in comparison. How long would a thread entitled 'Gaining an RAF Pilot's Brevet in the Cold War" last on its own? Cold War Warriors are derided on this Forum and no doubt Expeditionary Warfarers will be too in their turn. We are still revising our ideas about WW1 let alone about the Cold War. These things take time, and so does writing up one's own history. I certainly haven't done it yet and I doubt if many have yet of my age. Danny and the others who told us of their training in WW2 had, and we are all in their debt for sharing it with us.

If the day comes when I have finally researched and written up my memoirs, minor as they will be in comparison, then it might be acceptable to post them on this forum, but if so they will take their chances on another thread, for they will not qualify for this one IMHO. Anecdotes are one thing, and I have posted my fair share here along with others, but the story of one's training and subsequent career are another and should match the OP. Danny does and I, for one, don't.

Sorry Danny and Smudge. Not what you want to hear, I know.

Harry Lime
17th Oct 2014, 15:43
"Not what you want to hear."

Perhaps, and there again perhaps not. I would surmise that if Cliff could see how his thread has progressed he would have no objection to Danny's suggestion of letting the conversation flow, as in Crewrooms of yore and to the present day I have no doubt. My vote is with Danny and Smudge.

ACW418
17th Oct 2014, 16:01
Subject to the Mods not disagreeing I think it perfectly acceptable and even necessary that we move onto the 50's. This does not preclude any newcomer (or existing contributor) from the original era adding to the sum of our knowledge.

As someone who trained in the early 60's and who was a cold war warrior I think our turn has yet to come.

ACW

Danny42C
17th Oct 2014, 17:42
We'd had our last Christmas in Thirsk, and now it was the New Year of '73. It seems that the ever-solicitous RAF was still concerned with Mr D's welfare. For many years he'd lived in Mess without a care in the world about mundane things like fixing the plumbing and touching-up the paintwork. And even in later years, married, when they were living in Quarters, or Hirings, or privately rented houses, the infrastructure had been taken care of by the triumvirate of the Station Engineer, the Clerk of Works and the Barrack Warden (in the first instance) and the Landlord (in the last two).

And now they would be on their own, and would probably be seeking to buy their own house (if they had not already done so). Perhaps a few tips might not come amiss. Accordingly, Resettlement Courses had been set up in Catterick Camp (an easy daily commute from Thirsk). I do not know how many kinds of Course were on offer, but House Maintenance was one, and I enrolled in it. And, in a fit of quite extraordinary generosity, the RAF would keep you on full (former) pay for the month of the Course ! (but no mileage allowance - but you could hardly expect that ,too).

The posse of bewildered new civilians assembled on the appointed day to learn that a week would be alloted to Bricklaying and Plastering (don't try), a week to Plumbing, a week to Painting and Decorating, and (I think) a few days to Woodworking. I'm not very sure about this, but where else would I have been told to: "Think three times, measure twice, and cut once ?"

Actually, all the joints I ever made were not mortice and tenon (Life's too short), but dowelled (you can drill a new set of holes if you mess it up first time, or saw the dowels off flush if you've glued one end (if you've glued up both ends before finding you've got it wrong, it's not for you, try needlework).

The rest of the time was devoted to Financial Planning (which in practice meant being harangued by sundry Insurance Salesmen, each bent on getting his sticky hands on our Lump Sums), and general FAQs.

With the advantage of hindsight, I should've commuted the max (a half) of my Pension with all my Lump Sum, and bought a shed-load of Krugerrand, and we would be sitting very pretty indeed now. But Hindsight is much like many MOD purchases in that it arrives too late to be of any use when it does.

It was hilarious. We were in pairs for the bricklaying: My "hod-carrier" for the first part of the week had been a Signals colonel. then we swapped over. Naturally, they could not afford new bricks for each Course, so we mixed our mortar with double the proper proportion of water; when we'd finished it was easy to knock our constructions down and chip the weak mortar off the bricks for re-use. Like Balbus in ancient Rome ("Balbus aedificat murum" = "Balbus built a Wall": nobody knows who Balbus was or why or when he built it: it is surmised that it was the Roman equivalent of the "Queen Anne's dead" of our schooldays), we built a wall, too.

Our was a corner wall: it got to about four feet at the corner, it looked nice, it fell down of its own accord (perhaps somebody sneezed), which at least saved them the trouble of knocking it down. We tried plastering, but our efforts fell off the wall (so did everyone else's, come to that).

Next Monday our Painter took centre stage. All I can remember is the importance of Keeping a Wet Edge, and that professional painters always dilute the paint (for which you pay full whack) with white spirit before use, which allows them to stash away a tin or two, and that you can overnight brushes loaded with gloss paint in cold water. But he was interested not so much in providing instruction as in demonstrating his skill in "scumble" work, in which he was a past master, able to provide a stunningly convincing sheet of veined marble out of a piece of 3-ply.

The Pièce de Résistance came in the Wallpapering session in an afternoon of Wallpapering a Ceiling. To those who may be thinking of embarking on such an enterprise, I can only advise: "Don't !". Up stepladders, we struggled manfully with the wet, pasted paper, but to no avail ("You're not supposed to wear it like a hat !") If ever tempted, lie down until the feeling wears off, then emulsion it like everybody else.

That leaves the Plumbing. Although Britain had gone over to ½in copper long ago, we were still with the Romans in the Lead ages, at Catterick. We were introduced to the Blow Lamp. Those few of us with experience of the kerosene Pressure Lamp during our Indian years had no trouble in firing these up, an added bonus being that now we had meths instead of the local (alleged) Brandies or Whiskies (which might have explosive properties). We only suffered minor burns ourselves, and did not burn the place down (but I've heard rumour that a later Class managed it, but then you hear all sorts of things).

I cannot recall that I learnt anything of value, but remember something to do with Wiped Joints (whatever they may be). And for practice all that comes to mind was that we each had to solder (braze?) up an open end of a pipe. But I had vivid memories of some results (I think they kept a museum of the better efforts, which were extremely suggestive).

And then it was all over. January, '73 had been an entertaining, if not very instructive, month. And then the pay stopped. The Pension came in on time on the 15th prox, and has done so every month for 42 years now.

This has been a bit long, but it is all of a piece.

Goodnight, Danny. :ok:


Those who can - do. Those who can't - Instruct !

mmitch
17th Oct 2014, 18:10
Danny I note in the press this week that the Government are planning 'Resettlement Courses' for service personnel returning to civilian life......!
mmitch.

eko4me
17th Oct 2014, 18:37
A very nearly lost art of joining a lead pipe to copper pipe via a brass insert involving building up layers of solder (to effect the joint) and smoothing out each layer - and fluxing the next I think - with a tallow soaked rag. Demonstrated to me in my callow youth at about the same time as you Danny.

MPN11
17th Oct 2014, 19:10
Oh, hahaha Danny42C. :ok:

A masterly summing up (Part 1, I note with pleasure). I avoided the 'Bricklayer's Course' by moving, on retirement, seamlessly from Assistant Secretary of an RAF Sports Association to the post of full/part time Secretary and Treasurer, so my future employ had [to a large extent] been pre-destined. Accordingly, after some 20-odd years on 'T Committtteeeeee, I had the pleasure of another 10 years of that bizarre light blue comradeship that transcends rank/role/whatever in the sporting world.

In theory, 90 days a year. In reality, probably 3 days a week = really about 160, but at least it made the separation after my humble and inconsequential 29 years in light blue slightly more bearable. The disinterested receipt of my Clearance Card and RAF F1250 at SHQ, RAF Uxbridge in 1993 * , summed up one reason I left early. But the continuance of the REAL relationship with RAF comrades in my chosen sport for another 10 years in a voluntary role compensated fully for that experience. (Both I and my wife still have our 'boilerplate' letters from various 'High Personages' which may have some decent phrases but mean virtually nothing, as they run them off by the hundreds with exactly the same wording, it seems).

And so I swept out of the gates of RAF Uxbridge in my [then] Jaguar XJ6 4.0L, mentally raising 2 fingers to the bloody place ** but, at the same time, looking forward to spending another decade with real people in the RAF sporting environment.


* I first entered RAF Uxbridge in 1963, to be kitted out for the International Air Cadet Exchange to the USA (along with 'C4' of some later repute) with my Tropical No 6 uniform. No badges of rank or any sort to be attached, and none of my issue fitted anywhere - the crotch of my trousers was somewhere near my knees, IIRC. Difficult to be a cool young stud, dressed like that, in 1963 :D

** Bloody Uxbridge ... too many years there, one way or another, either working there, or in OMQs or parented. Despite the long and 'distinguished' history, I have mixed emotions about bulldozing the place. Probably 15 of my 29 years on their books ... "Join the RAF and see the World (or West London/MoD)" :{

Romeo Oscar Golf
17th Oct 2014, 20:23
Danny, I was there 7 years later and clearly nothing had changed. I recognise and remember (with much embarrasment) all you have described.....except the wall papering bit which I thoroughly enjoyed and put to good use (including papering a very cracked ceiling).
I was on terminal (did we really use that word) leave for my course and had long hair, beard and was determined to "shock" the plummy Ruperts in their Regimental Mess. I arrived fully kitted in leathers on my newish 500cc Honda, and headed for the reception desk to check in. En-route I was stopped by one of the plummy Ruperts and thought I'd got a bite already.
"Nice kit pal" he said "I saw you drive in just now...nice wheels......" and he went on enthusiastically. What soon to be retired numbskull aircrew mate had failed to log, was that Catterick was the home of the Army motorcycle Team (whitecaps?) and this guy was the team leader. Needless to say I had a great time there and my education re Army Officers was revised. The Teams admin manager was pretty good too, but thats another story.

Chugalug2
17th Oct 2014, 21:28
Wonderful stuff, Danny. Thank you! As I PVR'd (also in 1973) I had the same entitlement to a resettlement course as I had to a Service Pension, ie nil.

A friend of mine did so attend though and said that every day an Army Colonel attended his course wearing full No1 uniform, including a Sam Browne, and was accompanied by his batman. On the bricklaying phase by lunchtime he was splattered all over with pug, but appeared in the afternoons immaculate again. He either had an inexhaustible supply of uniforms or his batman held cleaning secrets that even Barry Scott would envy. :ok:

Danny42C
19th Oct 2014, 00:10
Chugalug,

AFIAK, all my contingent were out of the service. If your chap was in uniform, then presumably he was still "in" (and he had his batman, too !). Wouldn't that have caused some discip. problems (particularly if some other course members had been "bolshie" ex-squaddies ?)

Reminds me of the old end-of-war joke about the subaltern who got C.M.d for thumping his Colonel: "I saw the Corporal kick the Sergeant, and I thought the war was over !"

No Pension ? How long were you "in" ? I thought you got some pension after 10 years (less, and you just got a lump sum). Supposed to be the reason why the longest Short-Service offer used to be 8 yrs active plus 4 on reserve (plus in my case) £1,500 Gratuity (in'49, but worth about £48,000 today).

Still mulling over the Future of this Best of Threads before committing myself to print.

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
19th Oct 2014, 00:22
Romeo Oscar Golf,

If your paper stayed up on your ceiling , then I salute you, Sir ! Yes, we did use "terminal" leave - but then an Endowment Policy will give you a "Terminal Bonus". We worked closely with the Army in Burma, and always found them "Good Types" (indeed I dare not say otherwise, or my last two ancestors (both 22-yr (long service) Sergeants with the "King's Liverpool" Regt.) will have "it in-for-me". :*

(Yes, I do remember Frankie Howard and "Infamy !, Infamy !")

Danny.

Chugalug2
19th Oct 2014, 09:53
Danny, as I wasn't there I can't vouch for the veracity of the tale other than to say that one part of the Army or another always seems to have been the exception to any rule. Strangely, I can even recall the quoted name by which aforesaid batman was summoned when required, which was Ailes. A very rare example of recall, I might add.

That brings me to your other point, to which I can only say please don't do any mulling on my behalf. This thread has, subject as ever to Mod oversight, always been a democracy. I have said my piece, and such responses as there have been were all Cons, with nil Pros. It would seem the thread will continue on that basis. As to the title, we have driven so many coaches and so many teams of horses through it that I would suspect one more will make little difference. It will simply be as indicative of its content as the title of the game Mornington Crescent, and just as informative. A very British affair indeed!

Regarding the sordid money, or lack of it in my case, it came as great a surprise to me as to you that a grateful nation was not to reward me with a Service Pension after some 13 and a 1/2 years in the RAF. But sure enough the small print in QRs confirmed that as a PC who PVR'd before my 16/38 point, I was to get just enough gratuity to pay for the IRT. The Good Lord giveth with one hand and taketh with the other, as alway...

PS, I think it was Kenneth Williams who delivered that Shakespearean punch line and not Frankie Howard?

Fareastdriver
19th Oct 2014, 14:42
There is another thread going on about flying training in the sixties but if the Mods let me I will put it in Danny's empire to keep it going.

I was working for the Bulawayo Chronicle when I saw an advert in the Salisbury Herald for Royal Air Force pilots. I had always wanted to join but I left school in England just as Duncan Sandys had chopped it up. My father had just left the Royal Air Force and had gone to live in Rhodesia so I decided to follow them. I wrote off and then I hitchhiked up to Salisbury for the interview with the RAF Air Attaché. I was turned down as a pilot because of something called ocular divergence with my eyes but I was offered a navigator position. My father, a long time Air Force pilot advised me that if one was to be killed in an aeroplane then one just may as well be flying it. On this I wrote to them and said that I would try and get my eyes sorted and try again.

This I did. I used a card that was supposed to stop my eyes crossing an after a month I was OK. I then told Salisbury and I went up for another interview.

I signed the dotted line for a Direct Commission Scheme 'B' in April 1960 out there and was then flown to Nairobi courtesy of a Central African Airways Dakota. Soon after take off there was a mad rush as the cabin attendant carried luggage from the back of the aircraft to the front. On arrival at Nairobi I was met and then driven to Eastleigh and put up in the transit block for three days. Finally I was put aboard a British Commonwealth?? Britannia and flown to Gatwick.

Eastleigh had given me a railway warrant to Cirencester and eventually I arrived at South Cerney. I presented myself to the guardroom to be informed that everybody was away on Easter Grant seeing that it was Good Friday. They did not have transit accommodation for officer cadets so eventually I was given a railway warrant back to London where I would shack up with my grandparents.

I arrived at about 10.p.m. and I couldn't knock them up. Being in their eighties they had switched off their deaf aids when they went to bed. Another two mile hike and fortunately my aunt was up and I stayed there.

Tuesday came and back to Cirencester but this time there was a bus waiting for us at the station, a 32-seat flat-fronted Bedford one, which was only ever made for the British armed forces. I got in with the rest and as we negotiated the narrow streets of Cirencester I had a look at what were to be my companions for the next few months. Seventeen and a half was the minimum age, this allowed six months to enable them to get their basic training in before they reached the legal age to be killed. Most of them seemed to be about that age apart from a couple of older men who were NCOs who had been selected for commissioning. Some of them knew each other from the Aptitude and Selection Centre at Biggin Hill and they were comparing notes on who had passed and who had failed. I was lucky. When I joined the Air Force in Salisbury I was assessed by the Rhodesian Air Force and they didn’t go into crossing crocodile infested rivers with two oil drums and four planks. All I did apart from the basic intelligence test was to go through a book of instrument panel pictures and write down what the aircraft was doing. My father had given me loads of flying experience in my youth; I could synchronise four Hercules on a Halifax before I could ride a bike, so this was fairly straightforward. One youth was quieter than the rest. Apparently his elder brother had focussed his whole life on being a pilot in the air force. When his brother applied he had applied too just for the hell of it. His mad-keen brother failed and he had passed.

We left the town itself and I recognised the road to South Cerney. The same snowdrop was at the guardroom window; he was probably welded to the floor. The bus swept passed Station Headquarters and stopped outside No 1 Barrack Block. A sign outside solved one mystery, I was on No 154 Course. The door opened and everybody started to file into the building. This was different! When I did my Rhodesian national service we had to line up and get shouted at for at least five minutes before we could go inside anywhere. The two NCOs and I were last in. The barrack block was standard 1937 Expansion period. Two floors with one large barrack room either side with the washroom and toilets on the landing halfway up the stairs. This allowed half a floor, which was plenty, underneath for the central heating boilers. The ground floor room on the left was used as the admin centre. Sitting behind two desks were a couple of flight lieutenants and prowling behind them was a squadron leader with whom I took an instant dislike. It took about two minutes to establish that we were being called in alphabetical order so I had a long wait.

More to follow if anybody is interested.

ACW418
19th Oct 2014, 15:01
Fareast,

Please go on. It sounds remarkably familiar as I was on 159 Course. However, written more lucidly than I ever could.

ACW

CharlieJuliet
19th Oct 2014, 21:05
Yes still the same in '63 - 181 course. Also came from the depths of the colonies - in my case Nairobi.

Danny42C
20th Oct 2014, 02:04
Fareastdriver,

I should think everybody is interested.

Please carry on. Danny. :D

Danny42C
20th Oct 2014, 02:37
Chugalug,

I find myself in something of a quandary here. On the one hand, I can fully understand the way in which you view the question, can see the logic of your analysis and must therfore respect your conclusion.

There is no reason to doubt that Cliff set up this Thread in 2008 with a very limited purpose in view: to enable those of us who went through pilot training between '39 and '45 to tell our stories of that training - and then bow out and give place to the next man. He therefore gave it a restrictive Title, which would limit it to the old-timers who qualified in its terms.

It must be remembered that six years ago, the war had ended 63 years before: a young man of 20 in '45 might well have completed flying training (at least to Wings stage), he would be 83 when Cliff opened the Thread. Gentlemen of that age were (and are) by no means uncommon. Cliff could reasonably expect that there would be a small, but significant number of old RAF pilots on the internet who would be attracted by this opportunity to tell the stories of their RAF training.

And so it proved - at first ! And then the Law of Unintended Consequencies stepped in. Comments and questions flowed onto the Thread. The tales of training led inevitably into What Came After (often still more enthralling than the training story); that produced yet more spin-offs; our Moderators must have hesitated.

Clearly the Thread was going out of control. Should they lower the boom and rule out all Posts except those which directly related to wartime flying training ?

But look at what was happening. Before their eyes was developing a true, vibrant Forum. It was proving intensely popular, and spreading its net wider. First other aircrew came in, then ground trades, sons and grandsons of veterans still living and whose stories they could relay or (sadly) derive only from their logbooks, notes and diaries, and remembered tales. And yet others with something to add !

The concept of what I call the "Crewroom in Cyberspace" was taking shape. It must have beena tricky decision for our Moderators. They decided to "let lt rip" - and the rest you know. Over the last eight pages of "Military Aircrew/Aviation", the Thread has never (AFAIK) dropped below Page 1 or 2, it has the most numerous Posts and "hits" of all except "Caption Competition (which is a special case, anyway, and the Thread has 213 "hits" per Post against 125 for "CapCom").

The Moderators must be congratulating themseves (and deserve our hearty congratulations) on a very wise choice indeed. Of course, there has throughout been a tenuous connection to the Title - maintained (as a "fig-leaf") in the form of always having a genuine WW2 brevet-gainer on board; our problem now is that these are running out and we cannot realistically hope for any more. So what to do ?

In my mind the choice is stark. Either the Thread has to be expanded to bring in the next generation of Pilots, or it must be closed down. Should this be a decision of the Old Brigade ? No, it should not. I intend to approach PPRuNe Pop (if I can reach him) to examine (but no more at this stage) the possibility of amending the Title to read: "Gaining a RAF Pilot's Brevet in WWII and the Cold War" (or something to that effect). Then I bow out - it's no longer my concern (although I'v enjoyed reading it, and been grateful for the chance to contribute to it).

In any case, we are being overtaken by events. Fareastdriver has been warmly (and rightly) welcomed aboard for his wonderful Chinese stories. Chugalug, I'm sure you have as valuable a store of memories as his, and you have every much as right as he to Post here. As we've told diffident new entrants so many times: "Come on in - the water's fine !"

Cliff's original intention (to my mind) is no longer relevant. Circumstances alter cases. He could afford to restrict his "Crewroom" to the WWII brigade. We had them then. Now we don't.

Chugalug, old chap, your reticence does you credit - but many might regard it as quixotic. Please reconsider, and let us have your reminiscences ! Let the title of "our" Thread go to suit the content, not the other way round.

Danny.

PS: Pity about your Pension. Strangely enough, I got caught by the small print in a very similar way (detail in Part II of my "Addendum" coming soon).

You're right - it was Kenneth Williams !

Chugalug2
20th Oct 2014, 12:01
Danny, you are very kind to say that you can understand my viewpoint, especially as it is based on a concept that you have always decried, that of the unique importance of your generation. In return I can quite see yours, for you have invested a tremendous effort over recent years in telling the story of your RAF service, and the very statistics that you quote are testament to that effort on our behalf. I'm sure that I speak for all who visit this thread when I say a thousand times thank you for making it such a successful one, truly a Crewroom in Cyberspace!

So of course you want to see it progress and stay in pole position and who could deny you? Certainly not I! I have made my point and now happily bend to the will of the majority, which is clearly for the thread to continue into post war training.

In that regard may not re-titling the thread by adding "and the Cold War" lead to problems in the future? When it gets to the fall of the Berlin Wall will it have to be re-titled again? My thoughts are to leave well alone and glory in the anachronism of a thread entitled as is eventually describing RAF Astronaut training, but if that is too "quixotic" then how about simply adding the words "and after" to the extant title? One for the Mods of course. PPRuNe Pop?

I am sorry to have caused a hiccup in proceedings and any trouble that may have caused. In my defence I think that a certain amount of taking stock when faced with significant changes is no bad idea. The baton though has now been firmly grasped by Fareastdriver who is off to a flying start. :ok:

That does not mean that others with a story to tell from the 40s or the 50s have been bypassed, on the contrary we need to hear from you as well. So let us now all settle back in our battered but comfy armchairs, making sure of course that Danny's is reserved for his sole use, and in a non-PC swirl of cigarette smoke and over indulgence in alcohol enjoy FED's tale, as he assumes the traditional pose of leaning against the fireplace mantelpiece...

Harry Lime
20th Oct 2014, 15:10
Simply adding the words "and after."

An excellent choice Sir. Well done and Thank You. Reminds me of the 'Friday Barrel' at Lyneham in the early '70s, before that was stopped!

Taphappy
20th Oct 2014, 15:22
There is no doubt that this is a wonderful thread and whatever the intention of Cliff whwn he set it up, the fact remains that it has gone on to provide wide ranging discussions on various topics.
That being so it must be kept alive at all costs even if that involves a change of title.
As one of the few other than pilot aircrew categories who has contributed in a small way to this thread, might I suggest that the title could be amended to " Gaining an RAF aircrew brevet in WW11 and after".
Perhaps this would encourage a few more non pilot types to dip their toes in the water.
Meanwhile more power to FED's elbow, I look forward to reading more of his story
Danny,
Thanks for all your stories so wonderfully and amusingly told and hopefully we shall still all hear the odd pearl of wisdom from you .
Cheers

Fareastdriver
20th Oct 2014, 18:42
Surprisingly there were still four others waiting when I was called. The flight lieutenant who called me was an Australian or New Zealander, as I could tell by his accent. This did not surprise me. A lot of my childhood had been in married quarters so I knew the RAF had a very high proportion of foreign and Commonwealth aircrew. My file was thinner than the others were, there was no blow by blow accounts of how dodged crocodiles in mine. It just had a brief summary from the RRhAF and my army discharge paper.
He went through them twice. “What education have you got?”
“Six O levels,” I answered, which was true. I had taken my O levels in two different terms and I had the certificates for the first three but the others had never caught up with me, so I could only prove that I had three.
“What was your Rhodesian service like?”
“Six months basic training plus four reserve call-ups; one of them was the Nyasaland Emergency.”
He looked at me closely. “Was your father in the Air Force at Heany?”

This was the initial time that I went to Rhodesia in 1950. The Empire Air Training Scheme was in full swing then and a large proportion of pilots were trained in Rhodesia and Canada to relieve the overcrowding in the UK. My father had been posted out there and we went with him. The days of the old Union Castle liners taking two weeks to sail from Southampton have now, sadly, passed but as a result of that three years later when my father subsequently retired in 1957 he went out there again. I followed him shortly after, which is why I ended up doing my Rhodesian national service.
“Yes,” I said, “4 FTS.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I must be getting old, I remember you as a little kid.”
He looked down again. “I don’t have to tell you that you will still be liable for British National Service if you fail this course because you coming from the Commonwealth you will not. Being Rhodesian Army you won’t be crying for your mummy either. Follow the signs to stores and draw you kit, there is a corporal there who will tell you what you need.”

It was a very efficient system in stores. I was one of the last, but there was no queue. There was a long desk with half-a-dozen airmen behind.
“Shirt size?”
“Fifteen and a half.”
Crump, two woolly airman shirts and two officers pattern shirts with separate collars.
“Shoe size?”
“Eight.”
Thud, one pair of boots and one pair of airman shoes. The ones handing out underclothes and socks used the called sizes as a guide and thumped them down beside them. A pile of standard items, tie, towels and a button stick. One thrust a beret towards me, I tried it on and it fitted. The other hand produced a cloth officer badge and a white felt disk. “You’ll have to sew that on”.
I went into the next room. That was where the contract tailor was. He ran a tape round my chest and down my leg.
“Thirty six long.”
Out came an officer pattern No1 uniform and a standard blue serge battledress. I took off my jacket and trousers and put on the No 1. The jacket was fine but the trousers were deliberately too long anyway. Three steps onto a platform and the tailor marked off the bottom of the legs. I tried on the No2 battledress. They were made to size so it fitted all around but By Christ it itched. Serge was the material used for all working clothes for all three services and it was chronic stuff. Rough on the inside and outside it used to rub red marks into your thighs, never kept it’s shape and when it got wet it would stretch and take days to dry. A greatcoat was handed out; it fitted over the battledress. A white webbing belt. I looked at the brasses, they were brand new.
“Have you got one with old brasses on?” I didn’t want to spend a week buffing new brasses down.
“Yes, you’re lucky.” He passed over another one. I flicked it inside out and looked at the end hooks. They had been cleaned all right but whoever had had it before hadn’t polished the holes. Never mind it could be worse. A white canvas band was handed to me. I looked at it puzzled.
“That’s to go around your SD hat when you get it.”
I was then informed my No1 uniform would be ready in a week and I was to take my kit back to the block.

Our room was on the ground floor opposite that previous meeting place. There was no allocation of beds and of the few that were left I found one half-way down the right. The sheets and blankets were already folded on it and beside it were a chest of drawers and a two-foot wide wardrobe. This was luxury. In my army block a bed and a narrow locker was all that you got. Any other kit was stored in another room. I dropped my case on the bed and looked around to try and see what the score was. No.153 Course lived upstairs and a handful of them who knew some of the new arrivals were chatting as they unpacked their possessions. It became apparent that everything you had went into your own furniture. Not only that but once you had made your bed it stayed made until you changed the sheet, there was no folding it into a bedpack in the morning. I unloaded everything I had and shoved the case under the bed. I looked at the floor. Gratefully I saw that it hadn’t been bulled in living memory.

to be continued............

ricardian
20th Oct 2014, 19:10
Fareastdriver - more please!

Danny42C
20th Oct 2014, 20:22
Chugalug,

Thank you for your kind and gracious words of praise for the achievements of my age-group, but I must take issue with my : "concept that you have always decried, that of the unique importance of your generation" .

This goes to the heart of the thing. Far better than I could have put the point, the D.Tel. obituarist expressed it as: "They were ordinary men who did extraordinary things", and this was trumped with Wg.Cdr. "Bob" Doe's: "We do not wish to be remembered as heroes"...."We only wish to be remembered for what we did".

Our generation was certainly of "unique importance", but we were only unique in the sense that we happened to be there when the balloon went up - not for any unique quality in ourselves. A later generation of Britons would have done just as well in the circumstances, I'm sure (just as our fathers had done before us).

Turning to the matter of a possible 'rename', I think that adding "and the Cold War" will take it 46 years on ('45 to '91) before somebody else has to worry about it ! I wouldn't lose any sleep.

Now you've caused neither hiccup or trouble. "Free and frank discussion" has always been a feature of our Crewroom (although it sometimes means "a good punch-up" - which of course will never happen here). As for the crewroom itself, it was here when I arrived, I did not create it, I may have added a topic or two to it, I leave it flourishing. I am gratified that you are granting me Emeritus status (and a comfortable chair near the stove) in it. Perhaps I may be allowed to dig out my old pipe, and combat the fag-smoke with the fragrance of "Balkan Sobranie"? (and to bring in a tinnie or two of soi-disant "Draught" Guinness ? - as Eight Hours from Bottle to Throttle no longer applies to me).

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
20th Oct 2014, 21:05
Taphappy,

Thanks ! Glad you enjoyed my tale. You may well hear more from me in the future whenever a particular bee buzzes loudest in my bonnet.

Good Point ! ("Gaining a RAF Flying Brevet etc.") should meet the case, I think, after all we were all on the same side ! :ok:

Danny.

Pom Pax
21st Oct 2014, 15:08
It took about two minutes to establish that we were being called in alphabetical order so I had a long wait.
Whether this thread is titled "Gaining a Pilot's Brevet in WWI, WWII or the Cold War" some things never change. My Father warned me before departing for National Service that the first thing the R.F.C. taught him was that with our surname one will always be last or nearly last in any organised queue.

harrym
21st Oct 2014, 17:12
Hello Danny and all other friends, here is the first part of my (immediate) post-war tale which describes the journey from UK to India; nothing remarkable in itself, but I think deserves a place here for by then Transport Command was operating a service on that long route at an intensity unknown previously, using aircraft which by modern standards would be considered hopelessly unsuitable for the job but which nevertheless got it done.



With Germany now utterly defeated, it was fairly obvious that our departure for the Far East could not be long delayed; Japan had vowed to carry on the war alone, but its increasingly shaky bamboo empire was a brutal nightmare for numerous oppressed peoples while there was very good reason to fear for the safety and well-being of our POWs. Now the entire might of the allies could now be turned against this last enemy, with every probability that my crew & I would form a (very) tiny part of the total effort.

We (myself, navigator & radio operator) had originally met and coalesced at Wymeswold (Part 6), with a co-pilot joining at Leicester and a flight engineer at Ibsley, the latter’s sole purpose being to operate the winch used for snatching gliders as described in Part 8. Our training now completed, after two weeks’ embarkation leave we reported back to the familiar surroundings of Morecambe but this time there was no lounging around, and we very soon found ourselves heading south again to Lyneham for passage east.

From mid-WW2 until 2011 one of the best-known RAF air transport bases, Lyneham was then in its early youth and little more than a collection of nondescript huts on top of a windswept plateau (the huts may have now gone, but not the wind!). For all that it was a busy place, and so in the pre-dawn chill of a damp June morning we boarded a Dakota for the 2 1/2 day flight to India. Mercifully fitted with rudimentary passenger seats, so sparing us the excruciating discomfort of those dreaded paratroop “buckets”, it was even so a fairly arduous experience. By modern standards aircraft of that period were slow, noisy, and of limited range, but despite that the service to India was operated in a thoroughly modern “round the clock” manner with only brief stops for refuelling & crew changes; thus Cagliari (Sardinia), Tripoli, & Cairo West all passed in an increasing blur of fatigue, the afternoon of the second day seeing us fetch up in the oven of Habbaniya, a long-established RAF base in the Iraqi desert. Graciously allowed a twelve-hour “rest” here, so unaccustomed were we to the tremendous heat that sleep was minimal and resumption of our onwards progress not unwelcome.

Less welcome was the uninspiring view beneath. Endless desert had already passed below as we droned slowly eastwards from Cairo but here was yet more sand, to be eventually supplanted by the grey-green waters of the Persian Gulf – which somehow looked different from any other sea, as if the blistering sun had leached its true colour away. A brief stop at Sharjah was like a descent into Hades; heat even less bearable than Habbaniya’s, exacerbated by hordes of flies, drenching humidity, a coarse, gritty desert with a few dirty, mud-walled buildings scattered around, sundry unpleasant-looking locals and various foul smells whose origins were best not thought about. After an uneatable “meal” I was never more glad to leave anywhere, and a close view of jagged, hostile mountains below as we climbed out towards Karachi simply reinforced my instant dislike of that part of the world, a dislike that remains to this day despite its incredible economic growth, towering skyscrapers and vast wealth. After several hours’ flight along the dreary Iran/Baluchistan coast, giving distant views of an even drearier desert, we finally arrived at Karachi's Mauripur airport late on the third day (a trip now easily accomplished within eight or so hours non-stop from London). First impressions were of more flies, smells and the inevitable heat but, as they were to be part of daily living for the indefinite future we tried (more or less unsuccessfully) to ignore these less pleasant aspects of our new life. Fortunately the vast transit camp that was to be home for an unknown period, a sea of large tents pitched on the inevitable dirty sand, was not far from the airfield; allocated an empty one we tumbled into it, grateful that the interminable flight was at last over.

The words “my crew” having already appeared several times, a description of our motley band might be appropriate. In common with most WW2 aircrew we were indeed a pretty mixed bunch, with myself (as Captain) at 20 years of age the youngest and so there were of course inevitable differences in outlook and temperament. But this was a familiar scenario, already encountered and accepted and we generally got along pretty well with only an odd spat, or perhaps the occasional inferred dig at my background that was best countered with indifference.

My co-pilot was not only some years older than I, he was an ex-policeman with a young family at home and thus with considerable experience of real life under his belt; I think he sometimes found my relative naïvety rather trying. In retrospect his feelings are easily understood, for he was in fact a second pilot rather than co-pilot; that is to say, in common with many others in the same position, he had received virtually no type training and was supposed to pick things up as we went along. However, since no provision was made for any further official training at squadron level such people were not very well placed, and he most likely resented having to serve under a callow, youthful and doubtless sometimes incompetent toff such as I - for which he can hardly be blamed.

The navigator was a Yorkshire lad slightly older than myself, whose quiet exterior belied a predilection to northern obstinacy, while the signaller (radio operator) was a middle-aged New Zealander and thus the Daddy of our crew - or would have been, except that for some long-forgotten reason he travelled from UK on a later aircraft and had subsequently been refused boarding at Habbaniya on account of his inebriated condition. He was to reappear some weeks later after we had arrived in Burma, by which time I had temporarily acquired a young, ginger-haired cockney as substitute. The final member of our famous five was the so-called flight engineer, a well-intentioned and earnest young man who suffered from being a member of the Salvation Army (or was it the Band of Hope?), a significant disadvantage in our rather mixed company. Supposedly he was to be the winch operator should we find ourselves performing the glider pick-up duties for which we had been trained, but of course this never happened and so he fairly soon dropped out of the picture.

Now I have always had great respect for the “Sally Ann” for, while the majority of servicemen (myself included I fear) paid little or no attention to their spiritual message, they were well known for providing reliable, hospitable canteens to be found in all sorts of out-of-the-way places that sold better (and cheaper) fare than any available elsewhere – especially so as compared to the much-derided NAAFI. But living with one of them was something else; language normally acceptable in our exclusively male company was viewed with disapproval, so that one often felt subject to constant moral assessment (probably unjustly), whilst as for having a teetotal member of crew----whatever next?

But, willy-nilly, we had to make the most of it and I recall no serious fracas or falling-out. Our main enemy at Karachi was boredom, for there was little to do except drink (when the bar was open), or savour the dubious delights of the city. A dusty, dirty place like most other Indian conurbations (this was pre-Pakistan remember, not that it would have made any difference), it had little to offer; cheap tailors, importuning shopkeepers offering tawdry goods, beggars, smells, too many people - nothing that inspired confidence in the Orient’s supposed allure. A couple of weeks of this was quite long enough, so we were not sorry when word came to move eastwards to Calcutta; one step nearer joining an operational squadron, achievement of which would justify our apparently endless years of training.


Since I have previously briefly described the subsequent flight to Calcutta (by flying boat) in #5818, the next instalment will cover onwards movement to Burma.

Fareastdriver
21st Oct 2014, 17:47
The sound of activity at the door. In walked the two flight lieutenants, the squadron leader and behind them was the station commander. I, the two NCOs and the members of No153 course stood to attention. There followed a hesitant shambling to their feet as the others followed suit. The CO had an artificial leg and used a stick to get around. Four rows of ribbons on his tunic showed why.
“Welcome to RAF South Cerney,” he boomed. “I am Group Captain Fennel and I run this station. Just a word to introduce myself and wish you all the best of luck in your careers.”

With that he turned and departed, a man of few words. The Squadron Leader took over. He then gave a run down on what the rules were, when we were moving to the new cadet’s mess and the necessity of wearing a hat when we went into Cirencester. I was amazed, we were working a five and a half-day week and apart from this week we could go into town in the evening. That Friday the service tailors from London would come down and we would be given £10 to buy a proper SD cap, shoes and brown leather gloves. All officers had to be saluted and as The Central Flying School’s helicopter unit was also on the station that included them as well. This applied to me anyway as an officer cadet because I was a substantive AC2 but I had seen a few uniforms put away with pilot officer’s rings on them so those with instant University Air Squadron commissions weren’t going to get away with it either. The Squadron Leader continued that we were to be ready, in uniform, for the indoctrination period at 0830 hrs. It was now teatime so we all walked in a big crowd to the airmen’s mess where the corporal’s dining room was reserved for cadets. This was very different; I had always been marched around to meals. The food was standard RAF fare, chips with everything.

The evening was spent tidying up my service kit, I had brought some Brasso with me so I polished up the brasses on the belt, and as it had a plastic finish it did not need blancoing. I thought about boning the pimply finish on the shoes smooth but that was unnecessary, as they were not going to be used for posh parades. Some of my companions were trembling in anticipation, this being what they had dreamed about for years. The visitors from upstairs seemed to indicate that it was a pretty soft life. There was not a lot of running about, the drill was pretty straightforward and most of the time seemed to be spent on making sure that everybody’s brain worked in sympathy with their educational qualifications.

I had been used to sleeping in a barrack block so the odd disturbances during the night didn’t stir me at all. Lashings of bacon, eggs and chips started the day off though some were a bit late as they were still learning how to put a uniform on. At 0829.59 precisely a flight sergeant walked in.

“Good morning gentlemen,” he barked. “Will you form three ranks outside?” This was the first time a seargeant had ever called me a gentleman, usually quite the opposite. We formed up outside. He called out the name of the elder of the NCOs followed by his fellow and me.
“Flight Sergeant Morris, you will march this lot about whenever they move. The other two will be the right markers until they get some idea of what’s going on.”
We took up our positions. The flight was brought to attention and as I did so I brought my knee up to the horizontal as I had been taught in the army.
Flight Sergeant Thomas glared down at me.
“We don’t do that in the RAF.”
Just my luck, I had just set a precedent for my entire Air Force training. I was always the first to be bullocked on every course I went on.

South Cerney had the standard three curved hanger layout with CFS using the western one. It was one of the few airfields remaining with no runways, just a perimeter track around the outside, which is why it was ideal for helicopters. We marched, in a fashion, to the centre hanger where our course classroom was. We filed in and were introduced to the instructors on the course, most of them were Education Branch and their job was to bring us up to speed on the three Rs. Further documentation followed. Photographs were taken for 1250s, (ID card), next of kin etc.etc. We then went into the hanger for a session of drill to try and get some sort of rhythm to our marching. I soon learned to march the air force way; it was a damn sight more relaxing than the army was. Then an old fashioned tea break with the NAAFI wagon.

The rest of the week passed much in this way with two drill sessions a day between the academics. Not all the course were going to be pilots, half were going to be navigators or air electronics officers so sometimes they were split off to mess about with wriggly amps and suchlike. We pilots then had lessons on aerodynamics and it is amazing how people who had set their heart on hurling about the sky for so long had such an appalling ignorance about what keeps an aeroplane in the air. Friday lunchtime came and we all lined up to collect our money to buy our hats, gloves and shoes.

The tailors had already unloaded their vans into the admin room in the barrack block. Gieves, Moss Bros. and R. E. City were the three firms. Hawkes was an Army and Navy specialist. Shoeboxes identified the Poulsen shoe man and surrounded by piles of hatboxes was the Bates rep. These were the hats that everybody wanted. Oversize crowns enabled them to be wrapped in a wet towel so that the material flopped over the headband almost to the ears, very much like a Luftwaffe cap except the cloth was softer. They were a pound more expensive than the tailor’s versions so by the time I had my Bates hat, Moss Bros. gloves and Poulsen shoes I had disposed of twelve pounds. The tailors were of course, trying to sign everybody up for budget accounts so they would be trapped with them for the rest of their service life but I had been warned by my father to avoid this. Some of the cadets were getting measured up for No.1 uniforms at their own expense, an action I considered very optimistic because if you failed the course you became an instant airman and officers uniforms are no use then. Three went the whole hog and ordered them with red linings, then a Fighter Command prerogative. Within five years two of them were buried with what was left of the remains of their owners.

Saturday morning came and on Saturdays there was a parade and a barrack block inspection. The block wasn’t too bad, there was a rumour that we would be confined to camp if it was manky but the three NCOs and I managed to get them to clean the right places and being the junior course we were responsible for the washroom. My old sergeant major would have failed it at one hundred yards! The precaution of getting old brasses for my belt paid off as all the others with new ones toiled ceaselessly to bring up any sort of shine. We all paraded and were inspected. The usual comments about haircuts and whose uniform are you wearing then we all went inside for the block inspection and my experience of knowing the right places to clean saved us as he ran his fingers along clean pelmets and so on. So that was that, we were free until 0900hrs Monday morning.

lasernigel
21st Oct 2014, 18:07
It has been wonderful to read the stories from Cliff and Regle. Now we have had Danny's great input along with others.
A new chapter begins, agree totally with the addition of the word "after".

Keep it going please from an ex pongo, who very nearly joined the Air force.:ok:

MPN11
21st Oct 2014, 18:27
What has struck me, all the way through this Thread, has been the quality of writing and accuracy of recollections.

On the rare occasions I have deigned to intervene, I have subsequently regretted not spending more time preparing a suitable draft before posting :=

Perhaps there will be a trigger moment when TankerTrashNav and I might share our memories of the <shudder> Ground Branches OCTU at RAF Feltwell in 64/65 ... But for now I'm sure we both know our place :)

ricardian
21st Oct 2014, 19:29
Harrym - your description of Sharjah was spot on. It had changed little by the time I arrived there (in a Beverley) nearly 20 years later for a 12 month tour.

Fareastdriver
21st Oct 2014, 20:20
When I was describing my return from Tianjin to Shenzhen I mentioned that we night stopped at a company operation at Wenzhou. I had been there about a year before when it was a joint Bristow/COHC operation.

Wenzhou is a oddity in Eastern China. In is effectively cut off topographically from the rest of China. There are various dialects in different parts of China but the majority are understandable except for Wenzhouese which is a total mystery to anybody that does not come from there. The area was heavily influenced by Jesuit missionaries and they have left their mark in the genes of the population. Before I went there I was told that it was famous for the beauty of its women and daily I would see some absolute stunners.

Because of its isolation it missed the rampages of the Cultural Revolution. This was noticeable by the number of active churches; seven spires or towers could be seen from the ATC cupola. Less than a mile from the airport entrance there was a newly completed two storey high church awaiting consecration. The agriculture was different. There was none of the groups of black houses and miles of paddy of the rest of China. The area was split into smallholdings and the family crypt, long disappeared anywhere else, still resided at the corner of a field.

I arrived there just before Christmas 1995. On arrival we found that the outgoing Pilot in Charge who had departed to return to the UK for Xmas had disabled the international dialling facility on the company telephone. This meant that we would be unable to phone home on Christmas Day. (He was ex-Army) However we phoned Shenzhen and we arranged with others to pass the Wenzhou telephone number to our UK relatives.

The operation was at the very beginning of oil exploration off Wenzhou and the rig involved was Chinese owned but run by expats. As with most overseas operations where western food and delicacies were unobtainable there was a standard arrangement with the offshore installations. We kept them supplied with blue movies and they kept us supplied with goodies. The high point of this arrangement was that they called for an admin run Christmas morning and waiting for us was a fully prepared Xmas dinner for everybody on the operation for us to take back.

There was a request for a photographic flight on the 8th January. It was to be flown for Wenzhou TV and was to cover the opening of Wenzhou railway station. I was going to fly it for three reasons.

I. I had flown photographic sorties extensively in Northern Ireland, both optical and IR. I had flown and done the aerial filming for the documentary ’Belize The Forgotten Frontier,’ and had been the airborne camera for the BBC at the Jubilee Air Show, plus others.
II. It seemed like it was going to be a good jolly.
III. I was in charge.

We arranged to meet the camera crew in the morning to go over the afternoon’s recording for the evening news. The director and the operator both had excellent English so it was a case of where and when. There was going to be a cavalcade of all the city bigwigs from the city hall to the railway station. Then with a crescendo of massed bands and probably three tons of fireworks the station would be declared open. They crew not have any long range lens with them so to get decent shots of the procession it would be necessary to be fairly low. This meant that I had to go to ATC.

The entire airport had had a bit of a get together on New Years Eve so we had chatted to the air traffic staff. What we were doing was totally new for them so we offered to take them with us on an offshore flight so that they understood what was going on. This would make it easier for us if we had what they would consider a strange flight request. They took up this offer and we had flown three of them by this time. On this basis they owed me a favour.

As I have mentioned before AIR TRAFFIC CONTROL IS PARAMOUNT in China. This can be used for your own advantage as there is no such thing as General VFR or minimum heights. You fly where and how high you are told. I explained to them that I was flying an important photographic flight for the local TV Company that was highlighting the advances of Wenzhou city. To present this in the best possible way I would need to fly at low level to achieve the best shots. They asked me how low. Twenty metres? OK.

There was no question of anybody complaining about low flying helicopters in China. In Northern Ireland a favourite joke was that if anyone complained about a low flying helicopter the next morning the SAS would turn up and roll the house looking for a reason why they didn’t want low flying helicopters around. In China at that time it wouldn’t be a joke.

The station was due to be opened at 15.00 hrs. We were going to use B7953, a Chinese registered aircraft as it was a local celebration. To get their best shots the camera crew were going to need the full co-operation of the pilots. This was ensured the Chinese way be taking me and my FO out to lunch; and an excellent lunch it was.

I knew where the road to the station was. The entrance had the usual hoardings with stacks of flags and pictures of cheering people. We took off at 14.30 and ten minutes later we were there. I needed to recce the left hand side of the road as the camera was pointing out of the starboard door. This was to check for TV aerials, power lines etc. The road was new and each side was thick with children and adults all frantically waving to us as we passed them at about one hundred yards and fifty feet. After two kilometres the railway station came into sight, bedecked with flags and banners and as I passed over it something struck me as wrong.

There wasn’t a railway.

Where’s the railway? I asked and the director said that it hadn’t arrived yet. They still had to complete about twenty kilometres of tunnelling through the hills. The station was going to be opened today because that was on the schedule. The railway can wait.

I backtracked on the other side of the road and I noticed that the new road was about a metre higher than the old road. This could seen by everybody standing on the old pavements and looking along the road surface. There was a reason for this. When the old houses were demolished the area they occupied would be one metre below the road. This was ideal for services as they could be laid on level ground. First (ground) floors on modern houses and apartments are one metre above the ground so by digging the site by another metre you had three metres from footings to floor. This would take no time at all and then the pile drivers would move in. The previous inhabitants had a choice between getting a new apartment closer to town or waiting until the apartments in their local area were completed. It meant that buildings could go up at an incredible speed and goes some way to explaining why Chinese cities seem to be redeveloped overnight.

We orbited the entrance to the road and there was no sign of the cavalcade. After twenty minutes I was getting fed up.. There seemed to be nobody in charge at this end so I flew up to the station. By the side of the road there were a couple of police 4X4s next to a dried paddy. I landed on and asked the director to ask the police where everybody was. This he did and came back with the information that the whole show had been delayed an hour. He then suggested that we fly to Wenzhou and get some library pictures. We got airborne and I spoke to air traffic and not wishing to push my luck too far I asked for clearance to operate over Wenzhou at fifty metres and this was granted.

I had only been to Wenzhou city once before and I hadn’t seen much of it. Most of the buildings were fifty to a hundred years old apart from massive swathes were being cut through to them to form the new boulevards that were going to be the new shopping malls. The producer was delighted. He had never thought that he was going to get aerial pictures of the city showing the old and the new.

My FO was keeping his eyes open for any activity on the road out of town and he saw the cavalcade on its way. We caught up with it as they turned into the railway station road and took long shots of the whole procession from 100/20 metres. When they reached the station I turned away and returned to the airfield. There was no point in staying and drowning out the speeches. On return the TV people thanked us for our efforts and that was it. They had bought us lunch, got the cooperation; job done.

We never saw them again.

Danny42C
21st Oct 2014, 21:09
Pom Pax, (Your #6358)

I bet your Dad (ex-RFC) told you a tale or two - did you remember any ?

What was an "organised" queue ? - they must've come in to the RAF after my time ! ;)

Danny.

Danny42C
21st Oct 2014, 21:30
Fareastdriver, (Your #6354)

Wonderful Story. They gave you a bed ? You had jam on it, mate ! - I got a straw palliasse on bare floorboards ! (and think yourself lucky, lad - don'tcher know there's a War on ?)

Your: "...and a large proportion of pilots were trained in Rhodesia and Canada to relieve the overcrowding in the UK...." The real problem was what it was overcrowded with - things with swastikas on them, Hurricanes and Spitfires chasing 'em, AA gunners loosing off at all and sundry that came within range, Barrage Balloon cables all over the place etc. Painting out all the Railway Station names and the Blackout at night didn't help any. Your poor old Tiger Moth trying to do C&Bs didn't stand an earthly !

But they were good days.......:ok:

Danny.

Danny42C
22nd Oct 2014, 14:17
We now had February in hand until taking up my appointment with HMC&E in Manchester on the 3rd March. With my pre-war experience in the old Ministry of Labour in mind, I hied me smartly round to the local Employment Exchange and "signed-on". There was absolutely no possibility of their finding me anything to do in the short time available, but I collected £20 per week to add to my pension !

Then I found a very useful piece of information. It seemed that the Ministry had thought of a Very Good Idea to get people out of areas where there was little chance of employment. If you were drawing Unemployment Benefit, but had found yourself a job in another part of the country, they would pay £1,000 (£11,700 today) "Disturbance Allowance" to help you with the move. "That's for me !", I thought, and promptly applied.

But I was turned down because I had organised my own job before signing on ! So the regulations said. (If I'd been offered the appointment a week after , I would have been "in" - even though I 'd been negotiating about it for months before). I regarded this as grossly unfair, but even a letter to the then Chancellor (Anthony Barber, as I recall) had no effect. Rules are Rules !

That was not the only disappointment. Of course, the Renault 16 did not turn up before Christmas (as had been promised). Nor in January. Nor in February. There was the usual string of weak excuses. Our poor old Peugeot had to soldier on.

We put our Thirsk house on the market, left it for the Estate Agent to sell, rented a furnished semi in Sale, packed up and hit the road. Our "Pug" managed (with some difficulty) to get to Manchester. I started at Portcullis House, Old Trafford on 3rd March.

The Renault arrived early April - at Leeming Bar, of course ! (only in the nick of time; a week before I'd lost reverse gear; the other residents were treated to the spectacle of Mr D. being pushed back out of the drive into Oxford Road every morning by his loving family). The old car got across the Pennines one last time. "Stappers" (ex-Corporal Stapley, RAF M.T. Fitter), who did roaring trade on the RAF Caravan site in an old Nissen hut, and who knew the car all too well), gave me £50 for it - and unloaded it onto some Malaysian students on the AFS for twice that.

I picked up the Renault and went back to Sale. And this is Positively My Last Regular Appearance.

Goodbye, chaps. Danny42C.


That's it for now !

MPN11
22nd Oct 2014, 14:27
If this really "IT", what on earth are you going to do/post at 0100 from now on? ;)

Geriaviator
22nd Oct 2014, 16:32
What has struck me, all the way through this Thread, has been the quality of writing and accuracy of recollections.I couldn't agree more with MPN11. This thread is a delight ... especially when our dear friend Danny keeps popping back to cast another pearl through the crewroom door :D

Typhoon93
22nd Oct 2014, 17:14
This may be of interest to some of you.

Wreck of WWII German U-boat found off N. Carolina - CNN.com (http://edition.cnn.com/2014/10/21/us/north-carolina-u-boat-wreck/index.html)

Jobza Guddun
22nd Oct 2014, 17:54
"And this is Positively My Last Regular Appearance.

Goodbye, chaps. Danny42C."

Au contraire Danny. I think those of us who've thoroughly enjoyed your posts would be happy to see a small note regularly...just to know you're :ok:

Wander00
22nd Oct 2014, 19:13
Danny - seconded. hope to see you back as the muse (or annoyance at what we younger chaps write) moves

Typhoon93
22nd Oct 2014, 21:13
I wish you all the best, Sir. Hopefully you continue to post on the other threads!

Danny42C
22nd Oct 2014, 21:41
harrym, (Your #6359)

Just a few odd words of comment:

"Habbaniya, a long-established RAF base in the Iraqi desert": my friend Niel Ker, after completing his stint in Paris on the Russian Language Course, found himself doing a tour there, mostly monitoring Russian football results on the radio (or so he said).

"dreaded paratroop “buckets”: the trick was to get aboard first and kip down on the pile of mailbags at the back of the cabin.

"Now I have always had great respect for the “Sally Ann": So had my Dad in WW1, as they were always the first to get a good canteen going where it was most needed behind the Lines in France.

"too many...smells": We always said that the only thing mysterious about the East was where all the smell was coming from ! (You got used to it after a year or so). :*

Danny,

Danny42C
22nd Oct 2014, 21:54
MPN11,

Might go to bed and go to sleep !....D.

Geriaviator,

That aside, I think we've all told our stories in our own ways and to the best of our memories. Mistakes are bound to creep in, but they're all honest ones... D.

Jobza Guddon,

I'll look in from time to time !......D.

Typhoon93,

Thanks. (And on this one, too !)......D.

gzornenplatz
22nd Oct 2014, 22:09
Danny, Sir, That may be it for now but we hope it isn't it for too long. You have so much more to give. If this thread (and we hope it is) is expanded to cover "and after" we would be enthralled to hear your views on our attempts to follow you in your chosen profession. We hope you'll chortle at my success in landing a JP wheels up on my second solo. And my true story of me, as a young SAC radar mechanic, standing in the astrodome of a Avro Lincoln flying at very low level across RAF Lindholme practising for the Battle of Britain display when the pilot said "feather one, feather four, feather two". Wouldn't be permitted in these days of 'Elf and Safety.

gzornenplatz
22nd Oct 2014, 22:14
By the way, my Dad was stationed in Habbaniya sometime between 1921 and 1927. Before your time, Danny.

Danny42C
22nd Oct 2014, 22:44
Fareastdriver, (Your #6360)

A few words of comment on your absorbing story:

"...not need blancoing.." : There may yet be some who have not heard of the lone Guardsman picked up in the Libyan Desert in the North African campaign.. "Wa-er, wa-er", he croaked. They gave him some, and he set about blancoing his belt with it !

"Lashings of bacon, eggs and chips": Baked Beans were a more usual "filler" in my time, but that made you anti-social :* at 30,000 ft in an (unpressurised) Meteor 7.

"South Cerney": Otherwise Known as "Hell-on-the-Hill" :uhoh: by generations of aspiring QFIs.

"...Gieves, Moss Bros. and R. E. City were the three firms. Hawkes was an Army and Navy specialist...": I think Gieves had the Navy pretty well sewn-up. R.E. City were latecomers to the Feast, but their stuff was good (they made my Mess kit) and originally cheaper than the the top names (but what happened to their prices when they joined the charmed circle ?). Austin Reed were in it too, and others I can't remember now.

But if you lowered your sights a bit, and were a stock size, Monty Burton was not at all bad (but hardly a good Career move !) and then there was always Bedford's of Newark. In the circumstances you were in, though, the vultures had gathered and had you at their mercy !

"...was the Bates rep. These were the hats that everybody wanted": My last one is somewhere on top of the wardrobe; I think it cost me two guineas in about '67. We had a discussion on this Thread about the Bates Cap some time ago, when I had recalled having some difficulty at Thorney Island with a runaway BSA Winged Wheel, and my cap fell off at about 20 knots in my struggles to get the beast back under control.

"...about what keeps an aeroplane in the air...": Enter Signor Bernoulli, who makes it all clear (as mud !).

"and officers uniforms are no use then": Unworn, you would get a good price for them from Bedfords of Newark. (No connection other than being a satisfied customer !)

"as he ran his fingers along clean pelmets": Our US "Officers of the Day" went one better, they wore white gloves to check for dust on the light bulbs :( in our rooms !

Danny.

26er
23rd Oct 2014, 07:55
HELL ON THE HILL = Rissy = Royal Air Force Little Rissington = CFS (730' amsl)

Viola
23rd Oct 2014, 09:16
Very tentatively suggesting a book - diaries of actress/writer who entertained troops/air force in out of the way, small places in N Africa, Middle East and India in 1944/5. Many of the places in this thread are mentioned or described. It's The Time of my Life by Joyce Grenfell. It might be of interest, but perhaps a bit too feminine?

Though I've nothing to do with the air force or commercial flying, this thread has been absolutely fascinating. Your courage, determination and nerve, gentlemen, is an example to us all. (It takes all my courage to fly a little Piper to the next airfield on a nice day!!)

26er
23rd Oct 2014, 10:28
More "hell on the hill". On the Meteor course in 1952, night flying, giving "patter" from the back seat, in the midst of a bunch of jets came an unknown aircraft flying a low downwind leg which turned finals and landed. Much confusion all round. It turned out to be an Oxford from Pershore which had made all the correct calls, was cleared to land but mistook the Rissy pundit for the Pershore one. Easily done by an inexperienced student. dit dah dah dit , dit dah dit; dit dah dit dit, dit dah dit i.e. PR not LR

Danny42C
23rd Oct 2014, 15:47
26er,

Depends on your age-group. I give you Wiki:

"The Central Flying School (Basic) was formed at South Cerney in May 1952, absorbing much of the then disbanded No 2 Flying Training School. It stayed until May 1957 before moving to Little Rissington".

Your Oxford was lucky not to have a Meteor riding piggy-back on him when he got to the threshold. (I was once in hospital when they brought in a Harvard chap who'd had exactly that happen to him the previous night. Poor devil died three days later).

Cheers, Danny.

26er
23rd Oct 2014, 16:51
Danny, In 1952 I did the basic part of the course at South Cerney on Prentices and the advanced part at Rissington on Meteor T7s. Those not selected for jets - mainly the ex Sunderland, Brigand or Lancaster chaps on my course - did the advanced part on Harvards. As you rightly say the whole of CFS moved up the hill in 1957. Little Rissington became known as "Hell on the Hill" to QFIs.

harrym
23rd Oct 2014, 17:06
Danny I am sure you are correct re the location of CFS, but there certainly was a flying school of some sort at Little Risssie before that.

In August '48, while with the RAFVR at Woodley, I and several others flew to Rissie in our Tiger Moths to provide air experience for an ATC squadron's summer camp; we had been briefed that it was a busy airfield, there for the purpose of training the next generation of flying instructors - which surely was the main function of CFS?

Fortunately, having aircraft with tail skids rather than wheels, we were allocated a grass area well clear of the runway and had quite a busy day. I noticed one young lad trying to board my Tiger with his helmet on back to front, while there was the inevitable goon who (despite previous briefing) managed to knock off the ignition switches as he climbed in - but better then than later, I suppose!

Danny42C
23rd Oct 2014, 21:03
Just to make confusion worse confounded, I see from my log that I attended No.12 Short Refresher Course at CFS (Basic) for a fortnight in July '54 (Harvards). I remember going to North Cerney (?) Could it have been 'South' - and my memory is playing tricks ?

It is interesting to note that two of my instructors were Sergeants (McCockle and Quinney); when did the intake of NCO pilots end ? (although a lot of old Master Pilots were around for years afterwards).

I don't remember any hills around where I flew (which would justify "Hell-on-the-Hill").....Danny.

Geriaviator
24th Oct 2014, 16:59
Harrym's story of the long-suffering Tiger Moth reminds me of the many stories told by my mentor, wartime de Havilland inspector and later ARB and CAA Surveyor, Charlie Taylor. I rebuilt a couple of Tiger Moths under his supervision and he assured me there would be no problems: 'there's a repair scheme for everything on a Tiger Moth, no matter what you find someone has broken it before you'.

Mr. Taylor recalled that wartime Army glider pilots arrived for basic training clad in itchy serge battledress and steel-shod ammunition boots, producing an impressive crash as they came to attention whenever an officer spoke to them. Unfortunately this included the trainee perched on the Tiger's flimsy plywood walkway, who replied to the CFI's friendly remark by screaming "Sah!" and smartly slamming his steel heels through the walkway, the wing ribs beneath, and the lower fabric. :ooh:

After that the trainees wore conventional footwear. I can't remember the reference number but if you talk nicely to BAe they can produce the wartime drawing for Walkway, DH82a, repair of.

Chugalug2
26th Oct 2014, 21:00
Ha ha, great story, geriaviator, and a classic bit of inter Service banter! I've told it before (apologies), but a Herc skipper friend of mind was having a stretch at the rear of the Flight Deck while over the Indian Ocean. Army JO pax climbs up from the cargo compt and joins him, as agreed with the Loadie. Polite conversation ensues, with pax JO giving brief job description. He then asks my chum about his job. "Well, I'm the aircraft captain". "I see, so where do you sit?". "Over there", indicating vacant LH seat. "But isn't that where the driver sits?". "Well, I am one of the drivers". "Good grief man, don't you have a competent NCO to do that for you?".

Sorry, we didn't do Purple back then, and anyway we get far worse on Aarse!

Danny42C
26th Oct 2014, 21:49
Chugalug,

First heard that one 72 years ago at 57 OTU at Hawarden. Visiting Brigadier is being shown round a Spit. "But where does the NCO sit ?" Being told the horrifying truth: "Do you mean to tell me........?" etc.

Truly: "There is no new thing under the Sun" !

Thank you for rescuing the Thread from the Slough of Despond (aka Page 2 of "Military Aviation").

Danny.

Fareastdriver
27th Oct 2014, 19:23
I spent the weekend in London and I arrived back at about six p.m. Sunday evening. The place was like a morgue. Everybody was sitting around looking miserable. It transpired that on the Saturday morning whilst we were having our block inspection 153 course had received the results of their Intermediate Test. The consequences of this were that three had been sent home awaiting instructions to report to RAF Cardington for their basic airman training to complete their national service. One, a navigator who had demonstrated his total inability to read maps and charts, but was OK in everything else, had been offered an alternative career in the Engineering Branch so he was off to RAF Halton. Two of them who were going to become airmen were the hail and hearty ones telling everybody how easy it was.
The party was over.

Monday morning we paraded out side and waiting to meet us was an incredibly fit looking corporal. The two NCOs and I inwardly groaned because we knew it was a Physical Training Branch corporal.
“Good morning gentlemen, will you temporarily dismiss and reform in your gym kit.” We broke, changed and five minutes later we were out again slightly shivering in the cold morning air. I hope this isn’t going to be too hard, I thought, otherwise I am going to throw up my breakfast. No marching this time, we trotted down to the gymnasium and once inside were introduced to the latest weapon of mass destruction, circuit training.

Around the floor and along the walls was spread every conceivable form of old fashion wooden exercise architecture very much in the form of a show-jumping ring. The PTI demonstrated all the things we had to do going through, going through the whole gambit of press-ups, chin-ups, crutches and vaulting plus a few more equally crippling sequences. We were going to have it easy to start off with. We would go around in turn and go through the entire sequence only having to do five of the nastier ones.
“Next week,” he gloated, “you will go in sequence so as the first finishes his five press-ups the next one follows, and if anybody is caught up by the person behind he starts all over again.”

I was still fit, our monthly weekend sessions in the Rhodesian reserves had made sure of that but the NCOs were older and a bit softer. The direct entry cadets made it pretty obvious that the severest test of strength on their part was swinging a cricket bat and our ex University Acting Pilot Officers were a disaster, three years of soft university life showed us that. I didn’t push it too hard, I could still feel yesterday’s beer sloshing inside me but I worked up a bit of a sweat. Not so the others, some were having trouble gripping the bar, let alone trying to do a chin up. One hour later a host of panting, wheezing, scarlet-faced people wearily trotted shambolicly back to the block.

We went into our accommodation, picked up our towels and dived into the shower room. On went the taps and a cascade of freezing water descended on us. We frantically turned the hot taps to try to correct it but that was when we found that the coal-fired boiler was shut down on Monday mornings for decoking. The scarlet had turned to blue by now so we dried ourselves down and got back into uniform. A chorus of nose blowing was interrupted by WO Thomas walking in.
“We now know how fit you are, by the time we have finished with you you won’t believe what you will be able to do.”

We marched to the classrooms straight into the tea break and then continued with the daily routine. I was having my own troubles. Logical English writing I could understand and do. I had worked for a bank in Rhodesia and they had encouraged me to sit the Institute of Bankers exams and I had obtained a credit in English so I knew the score. What I couldn’t grasp was the layout of service letters and when to use Formal Official, Semi Official and the stupid endings like ‘I remain Sir, your obedient servant’. I took an instant dislike to administration, something which effected my career for the next eighteen years and still effects me in later life with things like tax returns etc. My protests that I had joined the air force to belt around in aeroplanes and not spend time scribbling in an office fell on deaf ears and after three weeks I was formally warned that I was going to have to improve if I was to continue training.

My saviour was another student. We had sorted out our problems that had started on the train. He had a gift for military writing and not only that he could explain how to do it with a collection of phrases that covered just about everything. What he could not grasp were aerodynamics, which is where I came in because it was an open book for me. The result is that we used to spend an hour together in the evenings and sort each other out. My standard improved so much that when we had to write an example of some letter or other the instructor would watch me intently to make sure I wasn’t copying somebody else’s work. In two weeks Jenkins and I would be off review for our respective subjects. He was more grateful than I was; the spectre of National Service was waiting for him.

My progress was interrupted the next week. We were having a session of softball on the sports field. I was awaiting my turn and was taking to somebody when my lights went out. I spent some minutes unconscious and when I woke up I was surrounded by worried cadets and they had already called up the ambulance. What had happened was that the batsman had missed the ball and let go of the bat which had then found the back of my head. I was still groggy when I arrived at sick quarters and the SMO immediately had me shifted off to RAF Hospital Wroughton for a check up. When I arrived I was wheeled in to have my bonce Xrayed. There was nothing serious but they decided that I should stay in for observation until I could see straight and recover from a God Almighty headache.

To be continued

ricardian
27th Oct 2014, 20:23
Good post Fareastdriver, keep going!

Danny42C
27th Oct 2014, 23:19
Fareastdriver,

Just as well that Throwing the Hammer is not a sport commonly played in the RAF (at 16lb, now that would really make your eyes water !). Even so I bet it'll be a long time before Wroughton A&E logs an injury like yours again. You missed a trick there - should've got a good Injury Lawyer (pity they hadn't been invented).

I hope the vivid account of your misfortune did not later evoke the comment: "that explains a lot !"

Wroughton was rather a nice hospital, as I recall (spent a month there in November '52).

The story of your "Combined Operation" with Jenkins brings to mind one told by Richard ("Batchy") Atcherley, one of the twin AVMs who were legends of the RAF in their own lifetime. Together with his identical twin David, they were nervous at the prospect of their first Aircrew Medical Board.

For David's eyes were not quite "up to scratch", and Richard had some kidney trouble. A plot was hatched to get round these difficulties. As "Batchy" put it: "David got through on my eyes; I got through on his humbler (but vital) contribution". :ok:

(Or was it the other way round ?).

(There was a rumour that "Batchy" had in his lounge a table lamp with a large, plain translucent shade. On this he'd pasted all the Letters of Reproof he'd received from the Air Council over the years - don't know if it's true, but it certainly rings true).

They don't make 'em like that any more !

Danny.

Fareastdriver
28th Oct 2014, 19:21
I was going to be in dock for some time. I was severely concussed by the softball bat and they were worried whether my brain was going to deteriorate any further. I was put in the officer’s ward and I had three companions. I cannot remember what they suffered from but only one had any conversation and I couldn’t see a lot wrong with him. There was no communication from South Cerney or anybody on my course, not even an apology, so I was existing in what I was standing up in when I was walloped. Fortunately, being of a suspicious mind I had kept my wallet in the shorts so at least I had some money. All the rest was provided by the hospital.

My eyesight was the problem. I was having diocular divergence again and I wasn’t telling them that I had had it before. Amazingly, they brought out similar bits of cardboard to those that I had in Bulawayo and knowing how to use them I was showing an immediate improvement. This conned them into thinking that it was only temporary so after a fortnight I had a medical and once again I was A1G1Z1. The nursing sisters were having a party that weekend so the hospital very kindly allowed me to stay for the weekend and discharged me on the Monday.

Not having any kit to wear I was taken back to South Cerney in a car. Complete with dressing gown I was dropped outside the barrack block. When I went in I saw that all the beds had been stripped. Not too worried I got dressed and marched along to our classrooms; they were empty. I continued to the admin office and there holding the fort was the admin sergeant. He informed me that everybody had gone off to the Welsh hills to run around in the mud and things like that. He didn’t know what to do with me so I was sent of to SHQ to find the Station Adjutant. I was given two choices; stick around for the rest of the week finding something to do or take what he called ‘sick leave’ somewhere. My answer was fairly immediate and I was soon gripping a railway warrant and packing.

A couple of weeks later there was a buzz that National Service was being closed up for ever. There was a rumour that should one fail the course there was no requirement to complete the two years. Then it was confirmed. Suspension from the course either voluntary or otherwise would carry no liability for National Service. Within a week three had left followed by two or three others in the subsequent weeks. I could see their point. Being aircrew, especially a pilot, for five years would be preferable to being a squaddie in the jungle for two years so when the option to avoid both came up they took it.

I and a couple of others did not make the course for various reasons, my enforced absence was one of mine. One went out on his ear and the other was recoursed with me. We two had been friends ever since,. I was his best man and we last saw each other this year.

Danny42C
29th Oct 2014, 00:34
Fareastdriver,

Your: "My eyesight was the problem. I was having diocular divergence again and I wasn’t telling them that I had had it before".

Very wise ! What they don't know doesn't hurt 'em (or you !) I'd got through CMB twice, it seemed, with a spot on one lung (bronchiectasis). I didn't tell them, they didn't find it, and it was only on the third time (after ten years' flying in war and peace) that I was unlucky and got caught. Even then, after I'd been restricted to 10,000 ft, they posted me on a refresher on Meteors - and the AFS didn't know anything about the restriction !

Again, I saw no reason to tell them, sailed through the Course without difficulty, and reckoned I was well placed to demand my A1G1Z1 back, but CMB wouldn't play. Ah, well. :(

Wonderful stories, FED, keep it up ! Danny.

Pom Pax
29th Oct 2014, 14:10
Weekly circuit training and a few other tricks had me the fittest I've ever been when I left after 12 weeks at Kirton. Like all activities at ITS it was marked. A series of tests of strength, speed and stamina. They were time based, I can't remember whether it was for 30 or 60 seconds but the number of repetitions were counted and recorded. At the end of the course you had to achieved an average improvement of (x + y) % with no test having less than an x% improvement. Also required were a long jump and a high jump, again memory fails me as to whether these were from standing or a 3 step run up.

Fareastdriver
30th Oct 2014, 20:49
When we had first arrived at Cerney the form was that we would spend eight weeks in the block and then, having proved we could use a knife and fork, move into the Officers’ Mess. The plot had now changed owing to the refurbishment of a group of buildings that were to be known as the Cadets’/No.2 Officers’ Mess. Four weeks in the block then four weeks there and then into No.! Officers’ Mess. All of my fellow students, apart from my fellow recoursee, departed to the said Mess leaving we two to await the new course. For a weekend, if we had been there, we would have had the whole building to ourselves. What it did mean was the only one of the barrack block rooms would be used in the future so we stayed put downstairs. On the Monday we introduced ourselves to our new directing staff. The boss was a lot better than the old one and for both of us we regained our confidence.

The new course arrived on a bus and then it looked as if we two had been recoursed to make up the numbers. There were less than a dozen of them. We sat through the preamble with them and in the evening it came apparent that several recruits that they were expecting had pulled out, undoubtedly because of the end of National Service. The next morning the barrack room was rearranged to suit the occupancy so we had stacks of room each.

I had some spare time in the next couple of weeks because I was not wanted for things that I had done already. Central Flying School (Helicopters) occupied one of the hangers and they were quite cooperative if a cadet wanted a ride. To this end I found myself in the back of a Sycamore for an instructor’s instructional sortie. It was noisy, because you had an Alvis Leonides at apparently continuous full song just behind you. The two pilots were talking about some incomprehensible flying characteristics and then one of them turned around to warn me that they were going to stop the engine.

Either the bottom of the aircraft dropped out or the blades fell of but we suddenly started hurtling towards the ground. The two heros up front were quite blasé about it, it obviously happened all the time. They hadn’t stopped the engine because I could hear it quietly idling away behind me but it allowed us to hear the whoosh of the rotor blades as we went down. As we got lower there was a sudden farting sound behind me as the engine stopped! There was now silence as we plummeted towards the ground and then with certain disaster inevitable a pilot hauled the nose up, the blades flapped even faster, followed by a levelling and a massive sink towards the grass. At the last moment before impact the pilot hauled on a lever in the centre that arrested its descent and we rolled gently forward on the turf. There were then hands flashing around the cockpit and the sound of the starter motor and the engine bursting into life restored some form of normality. I hadn’t a clue of what was going on even when they explained that it was a practice Engine Off Landing. Not that I was worried. I had joined the Air Force to go camel hunting in a Hunter, not flutter around in helicopters.

A picture of a picture
http://i229.photobucket.com/albums/ee224/fareastdriver/IMGP0395_zps88727c56.jpg (http://s229.photobucket.com/user/fareastdriver/media/IMGP0395_zps88727c56.jpg.html)

This picture I got back after my mother died.

I went through the course as before with no trouble and then we came to the ‘Off to the Welsh hills’ bit. Surprise No.1. No hitch hiking to the campsite. It had been decided that servicemen hitching hiking as a matter of policy was verboten so we would be taken by coach. Not all the way; the last ten miles would be an escape & evasion exercise to make sure we got wet and muddy; then we would be in tents. There then came the decision as to who was going to run the camp. Guess who was the only one who had any experience in running around the sticks and living under canvas; so I was now Camp Commandant. All sympathy felt for me for getting lumbered with this job evaporated when it was disclosed that I would be going direct to the campsite with the truck to do the initial site planning. Missing the exercise didn’t worry me. I had done my bit running around in the dark chasing or being chased. The bewitching hour came, I sat in the truck, the rest in a bus and off to Brecon we went.

Union Jack
30th Oct 2014, 23:32
Truly: "There is no new thing under the Sun"! - Danny

You can say that again, Danny, as the following clearly shows, some 25 years earlier than even your experience.:ok:

Further to three articles about the activities of British submarines, published in The Times, between 21 and 28 June 1916, in about 1917 there was a cartoon in Punch in which a "chinless wonder" of an army officer, in breeches and tunic, Sam Browne belt and all, is being shown over a submarine by a large bearded officer in a submarine sweater and sea-boots, and in the forends is regarding all the complicated machinery with some puzzlement, and says to his naval officer friend “I suppose you have some sergeant Johnny who understands these things?":=

Jack

Geriaviator
31st Oct 2014, 17:36
Mailing old friends at Binbrook recently, I rediscovered Ray Whiteley's memorial site RAF Binbrook Heritage Centre (http://www.binbrook.demon.co.uk/). Among much interesting material you will find Alan Dowling's account of his National Service as a radar operator, complete with pictures of DF vehicle with what appears to be a huge TV aerial on the roof. Other vehicles include Ford V8 and Austin 6x4 which I can remember parked at the side of Binbrook's control tower, alas long gone.

Warmtoast
1st Nov 2014, 00:09
Geriaviator

"complete with pictures of DF vehicle with what appears to be a huge TV aerial on the roof"

Vehicle shown in the link is an RV 105 (VHF/DF) vehicle which I operated early in my service at Bovingdon, Gan and Abingdon. They were superseded by automatic DFs from the mid 1950s onwards.

Here's what the one at Gan looked like 1958.
http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/GAN/Image132_zps7b8deb2c.jpg
On arrival from UK


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/GAN/Image11a_zpsc644c832.jpg
A bit of loving care and attention (with a 3" brush), primarily to keep the heat down.


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/GAN/RV105_zps03a97dfb.jpg
The finished job


Here's the one at Abingdon.


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Abingdon/Abingdon-BeverlyTake-off_1200x800.jpg

Bushfiva
1st Nov 2014, 02:33
26er sounds like someone who should be posting more stuff more often.

Danny42C
2nd Nov 2014, 01:42
Warmtoast,

Lovely photos of your mobile DF at Gan being repainted brilliant white (glad to see that you're Keeping a Wet Edge !). At home most manual DF installations were bricked-in, but the navs rarely used them from the '50s on, as the CR/DFs coming into the Towers gave (I have to say) a quicker and better service on VHF.

Consequently the operators had little to do for long periods. At Valley in '51 ours was no exception; one of our Operators had ample time on his hands for his hobby - making Lead Soldiers ! (the tale starts on p.173, #3449 on this Thread).

It will be a long time before I forget manual VHF/DF Ops ! :(

Danny.

harrym
2nd Nov 2014, 17:31
Following a laborious passage across India interspersed by several refuelling stops on sundry lakes, our C-class boat alighted in the late afternoon on the Hoogly river adjacent to a large girder bridge, to be followed by an inevitable 3-ton truck ride for the final part of our journey.

Nothing on earth could have prepared us for the chaotic Calcutta experience - its sheer, endless overwhelming press of humanity, the cacophony of honking horns and shouting voices, a pervasive aroma of cheap tobacco, traffic stink, animal dung, bad drains and decay. Most of the buildings were covered with dirty, peeling mould-covered stucco often hidden behind a plethora of the most garish advertisement hoardings imaginable, and from the windows of which protruded bamboo poles carrying vast quantities of laundry hung out to 'dry' in the steaming, foetid atmosphere. The traffic especially was unbelievable, a highly compressed, slow-moving and disorganised mixture of modern military vehicles, ancient taxis, horse-drawn gharries, bullock carts, smoke-belching and grossly overloaded buses, cyclists, rickshaws and of course pedestrians by the tens of thousands, the whole thrown into even greater confusion by occasional wandering cows - which, being holy, had priority over everything else. By all accounts things are not much different sixty years later, but fortunately I am not there to see it.

We found ourselves once more in tents, in the grounds of what had been a large girl’s school. The climate was very warm and humid, for the SW Monsoon was in full season and heavy downpours frequent; luckily our tent was waterproof, a luxury we were not always to enjoy during the following months. We were given to understand that we would be there for around two weeks, during which time we were once again left to our own devices.

Nevertheless there were some compensations, one of which was Chowringhee, the main street. With the Maidan, a large park-like area of grass on one side, it was more open and thus less noisome than most of the rest of the city, and had a fair selection of shops, restaurants and tea-houses in which to pass time or perhaps spend some of our slender funds. Two essential items were a “tin” trunk and a cigarette container (virtually everyone smoked in those days, tobacco products being duty-free anyway). The trunk was supposedly tolerably thief-proof, the fallibility of Indian-made locks notwithstanding, but more important was its resistance to damp or entry by undesirables (scorpions etc) as opposed to a kit bag; while the fag box, its rounded shape conveniently holding the contents of a 50-cigarette tin, had a silica-gel capsule in the lid that kept the contents reasonably dry - a most desirable feature in that appallingly humid climate. Spirits were also cheap and freely available, if not always of very high quality; given the prevailing heat, beer would have been preferable but was difficult to locate in any quantity and if found was liable to disappear fast.

After a week or so at the school, for some reason we were shifted further from the town centre to a collection of tents on a sports field. Although in some ways a better location, it was too far to walk comfortably to Chowringhee and so we made use of rickshaw travel. Provided one did not think too hard about the moral aspect of one human acting as draft animal for another, it was quite a pleasant way to go; slow yes, but given the traffic conditions only marginally less so than by taxi, and dirt cheap. Of course one had to be not too fussy about the route one’s puller might choose to take, short cuts through highly insalubrious alleys and back streets being a favoured option; while as for the morals of it, well if you walked you were then depriving some wretchedly poor citizen of earning a fare, for lack of which he (and his family) would most certainly go hungry that day.

In early July we started to move further eastwards, destined for yet another holding unit in eastern Bengal but this time the delights of overland travel were to be our lot; so, armed with the necessary travel documents and our kit (which included real arms, viz. a .38 revolver each plus 6 rounds of ammo per man issued prior to leaving UK), we found ourselves dumped outside Calcutta’s Sealdah station early one evening, to be immediately surrounded by hordes of ragged porters. Somehow I acquired the oldest and most decrepit-looking of the lot, which given the size of my trunk was unfortunate; but, somehow or other, the bandy-legged old fellow hoisted it onto his (padded) head unaided and set off down the platform, his legs seemingly bowing even further under the load. Having deposited his burden in the train there followed an inevitable dispute over the size of my proffered tip, dealt with in the approved pukka sahib manner by turning my back; however, he continued to whine and wheedle in a most persistent way, while repeatedly pointing to the top of his supposedly maltreated head. I began to suffer pangs of guilt - maybe the equivalent of sixpence or so was rather on the stingy side? At last conscience got the better of me, but as I reached into my pocket I realised the noise had ceased; distantly, I spied the old fellow melting into the crowd so probably he had not really been underpaid – by contemporary local standards, anyway. Nevertheless after all these years I still feel guilty on this point, for I myself would not have attempted to carry that load on my head for £60, never mind 6d!

The train shuffled off into a hot, sticky night, but sleep was not to be our lot. True, we had a reserved compartment but an Indian 3rd Class carriage was never designed for comfort, being rather an exercise in accommodating the maximum number of people in a small space; and as upholstery used up space there was none, only bare slatted wooden benches apparently designed for midgets. Dawn revealed a flat, well-watered green landscape and soon after we arrived on the banks of a mighty river, transferring to an ancient steamer that took most of the day to convey us to landfall somewhere downstream. Here there was more hanging about, but eventually we boarded a narrow gauge train that trundled us through a second night to the dingy town of Comilla. Well described by the author H.E Bates as a “squalid air junction”, this was a scruffy little place in East Bengal where another inevitable transit camp awaited us, though mercifully of well-constructed bamboo bashas rather than tents; but at least we knew that this was the final stop before our eventual destination of Akyab, where we would at last join an operational squadron – the end of a long road that for me had started almost three years before.

After a week or so of boredom, we were taken to the airfield and literally packed into a Dakota belonging to our new unit, no. 194 Squadron or The Friendly Firm as it was known in the Burma theatre of operations. The aircraft was filled to the roof, us few passengers lying on top of the cargo with barely enough space for the crew to squeeze past to the flight deck – as I recall, the cabin roof was inches from my face as I sprawled uncomfortably on top of a tin trunk. The wet season was in full flow, so we flew down the Arakan coast in blinding rain a few hundred feet above the sea – an accepted technique at that time for avoiding the mighty monsoon storm clouds and their feared turbulence, and thus for most of the flight only wave tops were visible through the torrents of rainwater streaming back across the windows.

Arrival at Akyab was heralded by a loud clang as we touched down on the steel plank (PSP) runway, succeeded by a metallic rattle of diminishing intensity as the aircraft gradually lost speed - we would become very familiar with this sound over the coming months. There followed a short and extremely bumpy ride in the inevitable Dodge 3-tonner, at the end of which we duly arrived at the squadron domestic area, a large tented encampment in a coconut plantation. Here we were told there was no accommodation for us and that we would have to pitch our own tent when a suitable site was located; meanwhile, we could set up our camp beds in the Sergeant’s Mess (a large bamboo basha) between the hours of 11 pm and 7 am. Since this building was more weatherproof than an average tent we were in no hurry to start ‘camping out’, but after a couple of days were told that space had now been found for our tent and to ‘get ourselves sorted’.

Erecting a heavy, double-skinned two-pole tent was not a task for the inexperienced, but somehow we got it up with guy ropes secure and the very necessary drainage ditch all around. With adequate space for five people, but stuffy when the side curtains were lowered (very necessary when the rain came – which it did, often copiously and sometimes horizontally), it nevertheless proved remarkably waterproof but less resistant to nuisances such as ants, mosquitoes, and the occasional scorpion. Short of soaping oneself en plein air during one of the frequent deluges, washing facilities were courtesy of personal ingenuity, so fairly soon we constructed a primitive shower consisting of a metal drum atop a rickety bamboo frame, its supply collected in an old drop tank supplied via a crude system of guttering round the tent’s eaves. True the drum had first to be filled manually before the shower would work, but ours was only one of many similar Heath Robinson contraptions and at least we could now keep clean!

Rangoon having been captured a few months earlier, the war in Burma was by this time virtually over; some Japs remained trapped on the wrong side of the Sittang river, but they were little more than a nuisance so the next big thing had to be an air and sea-borne assault on the Malay peninsula several hundred miles to the south. Our part in this (Operation Zipper) would obviously be mounted from Rangoon, but until that time came much of our army remained in the land-locked central Burma plain and required constant re-supply; the major proportion of which was delivered by the three or four Dakota squadrons at Akyab (plus others down the coast at Ramree) dispatching all available aircraft at first light, and in rapid succession, to a variety of airfields mainly located in the central Burmese plain. The payload could be virtually anything, though mostly seeming to consist of petrol in 40-gallon drums - which did not deter us from smoking (unless one of the drums was actually leaking, a not infrequent occurrence) - plus food rations, occasional passengers and almost any odd item that might be required by an army of occupation. It was only a short hop, usually about an hour & a quarter each way, unloading took little time and we were usually ‘home’ by lunchtime - so it might seem that we had an easy life.

I suppose that in some ways we did; living conditions, while fairly Spartan, were luxurious compared to those endured by our troops in the field (or jungle) - food adequate if dull, alcohol (other than beer) plentiful, reliable mail deliveries almost daily, and superb surf bathing off the island’s beach of fine black sand - all of which helped to balance the many discomforts. The daily flying task was hardly onerous either (more of this anon), and my crew & I were just becoming accustomed to this not unpleasant existence when our equanimity was shattered by being suddenly told “….you’re on an escape and evasion course - leave on tomorrow’s flight to Comilla”. Protest was useless, for it was obvious why we had been chosen - as the most newly arrived and therefore least experienced crew on the squadron, by definition we were the most dispensable - so back to Comilla we went, beyond which lay a 36-hour rail journey further north (plus several hours more by road) to our ultimate destination. However by great good fortune a rare special flight to Dimapur was leaving the next day, sparing us that tedious and uncomfortable train ride; so, following a short flight we found ourselves dumped at yet another transit camp that had no apparent reason to exist. Yet barely 12 months before, the whole area would have been frantic with activity - for this was where the long and tortuous Manipur road commenced its often vertiginous ascent from the Dimapur railhead, up through the jungle-clad Naga hills to Kohima and on to Imphal. Both places had seen much fierce fighting the year before, indeed it was at Kohima that the 14th Army had made their gallant stand against the Japanese forces attempting a desperate invasion of India; and, since this road was the only feasible land route into Burma, it had been an absolutely vital supply line.

Although disgruntled at being suddenly removed from operational flying, and especially so after having just commenced it following what had seemed interminable years of training, in retrospect I suppose we should have been grateful for an experience for which many tourists would now pay good money - if indeed they were able to anyway, for access to that area has been severely restricted by the Indian government. A long drive in the dubious comfort of a 15-cwt truck along an initially more or less straight and level road, then an endless succession of sharp bends climbing steadily upwards through the jungle-clad hills with a cliff face on one side and a near-vertical drop on the other, saw us eventually deposited at a small encampment that was to be our home for the next ten days.

It was in fact a not unattractive situation, on a spur overlooking the road and giving a fine view of forested mountains across a deep valley beneath; it was also notably cooler than we were accustomed to, a distinct bonus. The instructional staff consisted of two middle-aged army officers who knew the country well - one a peace-time forestry officer and the other a tobacco planter from Thailand - plus a handful of Indian army personnel, and the inevitable local civilians fulfilling (more or less incompetently) the necessary domestic duties; the most incompetent of all, of course, being allocated to us as our personal servant.

At this distance of almost seventy years memory grows rather dim, my main recollection being of long walks in the surrounding jungle. Initially we were led by one or other of the staff, who would instruct us in making best use of terrain, the many uses to which one could put bamboo, crude navigation, and point out any edible fruits (not many, as I recall). Moving about was easier than we had expected, for the area consisted mainly of primary jungle where an over-arching canopy of tall trees shut out much of the light and thus discouraged the more impenetrable surface vegetation; however there was little level ground, so most progress was either sweatily uphill or precipitously down, at the end of which there was usually a boulder-strewn, fast-flowing torrent to be crossed. Such streams came as welcome relief, for they were never deep enough to impede us but instead allowed for a pleasantly cooling dip. Leeches? – well they certainly existed but I don’t remember them being much of a problem, probably because being a mountainous area there was little in the way of excessively wet, swampy ground.

As the course progressed we were sent out on our own, nominally to undertake certain ‘tasks’ such as following a laid down route but in practice doing pretty much what we pleased. Observing the large variety of insect life, in particular an extraordinary number of large and beautiful butterflies, some of our number started catching and collecting the choicer specimens; meanwhile, the rest of us were quite content to pass time keeping cool in the many stream-fed pools. Evenings were spent drinking gin on our primitive ‘veranda’, watching the setting sun playing on the often cloud-capped mountains, or later reading or playing cards by the light of a hurricane lamp. The inevitable mosquitoes were a constant nuisance, but by now we were accustomed to them and trusted in our daily mepacrin tablets to keep the dreaded malaria at bay.

Mid-course there was one free day when we were taken a further twenty or so miles up the road to Kohima, there to view the scene of the memorable battle fifteen months before. In such a beautiful setting it was hard to imagine such recent misery and bloodshed, even though that famous epitaph ‘When you go home, tell them of us and say – for your tomorrow, we gave our today’ was even then carved on the main memorial in the war cemetery.

The final end-of-course event was for us to pass a night in the boondocks, when we would be able to put to use our various survival skills hopefully learned during the previous ten days. Fortunately we were not expected to live off the land, however would have to erect our own shelter if we wanted any and then find our way to a rendezvous for pick up the next day. I recall passing a very uncomfortable night in a crude, bamboo-framed shelter that leaked most of a passing shower, and the following day wondering why we had not had the good sense of the other crew who had fled surreptitiously to a nearby NAAFI canteen and shacked up there instead!

So we were not sorry to head off back down the road to Dimapur, although this time there was no friendly Dakota to waft us ‘home’; instead we enjoyed the Spartan delight of a third class, metre-gauge train that took us laboriously back to Comilla overnight through the Shillong hills. For the cognoscenti, our motive power on the hilly part was one or more of the capable, lend-lease ‘MacArthur’ 2-8-2s’, while the level section on the southern part of the run saw us hauled by a handsome, royal blue British-built pacific that shifted along at a surprisingly brisk pace. Such unaccustomed velocity improved ventilation no end, this being augmented by our carriage having inward-opening doors enabling me to pass much of the time sitting in an open doorway, a most delightful way of viewing the passing scene. Arriving at Comilla, we wasted no time in securing passage on the first available flight back to Akyab - which makes this a convenient point to break the narrative, to resume later with some scribblings about various flying tasks undertaken during the following year & a bit.

Fareastdriver
2nd Nov 2014, 18:34
Fantastic!!!

ricardian
2nd Nov 2014, 21:25
Thanks HarryM - more please!

smujsmith
2nd Nov 2014, 21:56
Great stuff HarryM, and it synchs nicely with Danny42C and his experience of the sub continent. Can't wait to read the flying stuff though, as one who likes the Transport stories, I'm sure you can rely on me as an avid follower. Keep em coming.

Smudge:ok:

Warmtoast
2nd Nov 2014, 22:31
Danny 42C

Thanks for your kind compliments about my 1958-59 photos (post #6398 - above) of the mobile VHF/DF vehicles at Gan and R.A.F. Abingdon, here is a bit of background regarding the latter and a link to me seeing, reasonably closely, a serving president of the USA in the shape of President Eisenhower at R.A.F. Benson in August 1959.

In the early summer of 1959 I was a VHF/DF Operator based at RAF Abingdon in charge of a mobile [RV-105] VHF/DF station that provided cross bearings to Air Traffic Control at RAF Benson about 15-miles to the east. Aircraft on final approach to Benson called for a bearing and the bearing my operators took in degrees true from Abingdon was passed to Benson ATC by an always open landline (squawk box). Benson then plotted the bearing we gave allowing them to calculate with a fair degree of accuracy the distance the aircraft was from touchdown.
When things were quiet we VHF/DF operators at Abingdon chatted to the ATC bods at Benson and as a result were quite friendly, so much so that we occasionally went out for drinks together.

In June of that year I'd been accepted for training as an AQM and by late August had completed my training at 1 PTS at Abingdon and 242 OCU at Dishforth and was back at Abingdon awaiting my posting to 99 Sqn at Lyneham and as a result was back on the VHF/DF wheel giving bearings to Benson’s ATC.

One day in late August 1959 whilst still waiting for my posting to 99 Sqn, one of my Benson ATC friends at the other end of the landline at Benson told me that President Eisenhower was due to land at Benson in a 216 Squadron Comet on Saturday morning and would I like to see a real live US president? Ike had been on a courtesy visit to the queen at Balmoral and was returning south and flying into Benson to have talks with prime minister Harold Macmillan at Chequers.

Nothing ventured nothing gained, I decided to go over to Benson on Saturday and so armed with my camera, hopped on my motorcycle and went over to Benson. Wearing uniform and with a rather large “professional” looking camera around my neck [a Rolleiflex] to which I’d attached a flash-gun, it was assumed I was an “official photographer” and was ushered to the scaffolding dais specially erected for the press and photographers and duly took photographs of the Comet’s arrival, of it taxiing to a halt in front of the dais and with Ike disembarking. Sadly I was out of colour film and had to rely on B&W.

It must have been quite a feather in 216’s hat to have flown a real live US president making for a rather unique event. I suppose it also begs the question as to why he didn’t travel in AirForce One or whatever it was called in those days (a Super Connie I think), but in 1959 using 216 Squadron’s Comet 2s, the RAF operated the only military jet passenger service and Ike as a military man may well have savoured the experience of travelling in a military jet airliner, albeit R.A.F. rather than USAF.
[COLOR=#000000]
A visit to the National Archives at Kew and a look at 216 Squadron’s Operations Record Book for August 1959 provided the itinerary and crew details as below:
Comet XK 715 Flight No. Spec 1416
Crew:
S/Ldr P. E. Pullen
F/O J. Byrne
F/S D. Rance
F/S J. Hayley
M. Eng J. Clark
Sgt M.C. Wendler
Sgt (W) M. Wood

Routing:
27th August 1959 Lyneham — LHR 1600 - 1620
28th August 1959 LHR — Dyce (Aberdeen) 0845 - 1005
29th August 1959 Dyce — Benson 1045 - 1205
29th August 1959 Benson — Lyneham 1305 - 1400

The Times of 26th August 1959 provided further details of Ike’s visit as the press cuttings below record.


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Abingdon/Notthatone-Thisone.jpg
The 216 Sqn Comet lands at RAF Benson


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Abingdon/Ike1a.jpg
[FONT=Arial]The Comet pulls up in front of the dais - and look at that bulled-up shiny finish!


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Abingdon/Ike-2a.jpg
[FONT=Arial]...and Ike disembarks, doffing his hat as he does so


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Abingdon/IkeatBenson.jpg


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Abingdon/Image1_zpsbc4180e7.jpg

…a unique experience.

And as regards Memories of Gan - watch this space (or another thread) shortly for my 1958 illustrated memories of the place augmented by photographs taken earlier this year when I went out to see how the place has changed after 56-years.

Chugalug2
3rd Nov 2014, 09:11
harrym, what a tour de force! You paint a vivid picture of the vivid land that is the sub-continent of India. We clearly have another Danny in our midst and I, like others I'm sure, wait expectantly for more such painting with words. You take us many thousands of miles, as well as back in time, with accomplished ease. The result no doubt of much hard work and research, but the result is a triumph!
Thank you. More, much more, please! :ok:

Biggles78
3rd Nov 2014, 14:39
Yet you must always remember, that we were (in the words of the D. Tel.
obituarist): "Ordinary men who did extraordinary things" - to which I would add
"in extraordinary times". We were not "special" in any way, it's just that we
were on watch when it all happened.
Sorry Danny but I and I suspect a great many others shall disagree quite strongly. You guys (both sexes) were, are and will always be VERY special!!

Regarding the positive G the Spitfire could pull, I am sure I read a book at some time in the past that mentioned 9G+ and 3G- but it may have been one of the later marks. It was also mentioned that many pilots could have saved themselves by pulling more Gs to out manoeuvre them wot was chasing them. The higher stirrup step on the rudder bar was supposed to allow an extra 1G to be pulled in the turn (or dive pull out).

It seems Brad Pitt, who stared in the tank movie Fury, is so interested in WWII that he is now going to purchase a Spitfire to fly around in. When I was in my early 20s I was offered the chance to sit in a Mk XVI but I decline as I didn't think I had earned the right. Bloody kicking myself now. Sorry, gone off topic.

Danny, your continued words shall be missed. You are an excellent orator and I hope you will consider putting your story to paper and publishing it. I am sure it would be a good seller and spectacular read. THANK YOU for sharing your experiences with us and again to Cliff Nemo for starting the incredible thread. As long as there is cyberspace all your experiences shall live on and on.

When you go home, tell them of us and say,
For your tomorrows they gave their today.

In case I haven't said it before to you;

Thank you for your Service.

Danny42C
3rd Nov 2014, 18:42
harrym,

Wonderful !

Welcome to: "The Brightest Jewel in the Crown of Empire !" Having endured three successive wartime Monsoons on the subcontinent, I have herewith appointed myself an Old India Hand, and in that capacity pontificate as follows:

Now you know why the old "trooping season" out there was always in the dry and cooler autumn and early winter months, so that newcomers could play themselves in gradually before the temperature started to rise in February, grew progressively hotter and hotter, and then from April ever more and more humid by the day until you were living in a sort of permanent Turkish Bath, praying for the Monsoon to break (which in Calcutta it did a few days either side of 15th May), when things would be a lot wetter, but also much cooler.

Then the heavens would open, and it would bucket down solidly for a week or so, then tail off into repeated heavy showers which gradually grew fewer until September or so. All the stinking rubbish in Calcutta swirled around, becoming even more fetid and smelly, but did not wash away: the sodden mess just redistributing itself.

Your: "...our C-class boat alighted in the late afternoon on the Hoogly river adjacent to a large girder bridge...."

Don't remember any flying boats near the great Howrah bridge. Probably one of the railway bridges further upstream (whererever it was, I hope they told you to keep your mouth closed if you fell in !)

And your: ".....by occasional wandering cows - which, being holy, had priority over everything else. By all accounts things are not much different sixty years later......"

Seventy almost, surely? - (nor were they a year before !).

And your: "......in tents, in the grounds of what had been a large girl’s school...."

(Sounds like the "La Martinière", not far from Chowringhee).

And your: "..... Chowringhee, the main street...... had a fair selection of shops, restaurants and tea-houses.......perhaps spend some of our slender funds...."

Also in Chowringhee was the Grand Hotel, aka officer and aircrew NCO leave hostel - (Rs10 full board - about 14/-, and you'd be on 13/6 a day pay), and a few doors down the only air-conditioned cinema - or any other a/c building for that matter - within a thousand miles). A short step in the other direction was the lordly Bengal Club, whose magnificent portico was (reputedly) closed to anybody below the rank of full Colonel, or if civilian, earning less than one lakh (Rs 100,000) per annum.

Danny (OIH).

Danny42C
3rd Nov 2014, 21:39
Biggles78,

Thank you for the kind and appreciative words said about me and my generation, but I still firmly believe that there was nothing special about us, it was simply the case that we happened to be there when the balloon went up.

Our Fathers (and Mothers) had risen to the challenges of their times: I would hope that our successors would do the same if occasion arose.

Regarding "G" forces in the Spitfire, I've heard that the Me109 pilots were expressly warned := against engaging in kurvenkampf with the Spitfire, because the Spit could always pull more "G" and so turn inside them (don't know if it's true).

I don't think there's any interest in WWII books now - it's ancient history. In any case, our stories are all available on PPRuNe to anyone who takes the time to log in.

Cheers, Danny.

harrym
4th Nov 2014, 17:16
Fareastdriver: Thanks for your #6402, I can only say the same for your contributions!

Danny: apologies for the sixty year booboo, which arose because that instalment was 'lifted' from memoirs compiled about ten years ago - I failed to spot the chrono error when checking through prior to posting, of course it should read (to be precise) 69 plus a bit years.

You are probably right about the bridge; it certainly carried a railway, but was some way out of town so could not have been the Howrah one.

In later life I discovered my great-great grandfather had died in Calcutta, some time in the 1820s; he was serving in the East India Company's private army, and probably was a victim of the combined effects of a tropical climate, contemporary poor hygiene standards and maybe too much claret as well - a common health hazard at the time, read William Hickey's memoirs of that period.


To all who have been kind enough to comment on my scribbling - the next instalment will follow shortly, but things will slow down a bit after that as I am still working on completion of the rest!

smujsmith
5th Nov 2014, 19:31
Danny, harrym and Warmtoast,

Thanks to you, and a few others, our "crewroom" is once again buzzing with discussion ranging across the years. Some overlaps others experience, some bringing in later history of our service, and the people who made it. I'm not sure I would agree with your assertion that no one is interested in WW2 stories Danny, I've recently finished a series, based on actual history of RAF Squadrins, from 1914 to 1946. 12 books in total, and I bought the last eleven based on book one. There are plenty of us who respect both our history,mans the people who made it. Now, back to the grind chaps, PPrune expects etc, and if I dare be so bold, so do I.

Smudge:ok:

Fareastdriver
5th Nov 2014, 19:52
I had a go at writing a book once. It was fictional but based on actual happenings on Valiant tankers in the early sixties. I wrote it during my ample free time in China and the Solomon Islands. On completion it stretched to over 200 pages of A4, say 400 in a book. One or two people I showed it too were enthusiastic, others not so.

After months correcting the grammar I investigated self publishing. It was not going to be cheap. There was not going to be a lot of change out of a £1,000 to get it published in basic form and should you want to promote it you were looking at another £1,000.

The returns by the author are pathetic. It's the publishers and the bookshops who coin the money. A book selling at £17 would only realise 50-75p a throw so you are talking about 3-4,000 before breaking even. I didn't have that many friends so I packed up that idea.

There are a few people that have tried. They have cupboards full of them.

Anybody wants to download a copy, give me a shout.

smujsmith
5th Nov 2014, 20:08
Fareastdriver,

Agreed as far as the printed work is concerned. Many have great success now, self publishing through the electronic media, Kindle for instance, I have a kindle, and that's wher I read the above series. Publish and be damned sir, and let me know when you do, I will definately purchase a copy.

Smudge:ok:

Danny42C
5th Nov 2014, 22:32
harrym (still on your #6401, as there's such a wealth of material in it),

What seems to have been your experience in "Cal" in summer '45 reflects a tremendous change in the status and treatment of "BORs" - "British Other Ranks", compared with what I'd found up to summer '44, which was the last time I was there (I spent my last 18 months 1400 miles away in South India, and never saw Calcutta again).

Your: ".......a “tin” trunk.....more important was its resistance to damp or entry by undesirables (scorpions etc)."

The cheap (Rs20-30) bazaar tin trunk wasn't all that damp-proof, I lined mine with a balloon fabric liner sewn up by the dherzi in a shape which fitted into the corners. The main purpose was to keep the white ants out !

The scorpion was more a dry-season hazard, but there were plenty of other horrible invertebrates with infinite numbers of legs which appeared in the monsoon. Even so, I take it that you tapped your shoes and slippers out every time before putting them on - the inside of the toes being a favourite spot for a scorpion to bed down!

And your: "......hordes of ragged porters.......but as I reached into my pocket I realised the noise had ceased.......!"

Decrepit and bandy-legged or not, they could move through the crowd with impressive speed, it was vital to keep them in sight all the time - or you might never see your luggage again ! Your brand new trunk (and bedroll ?) would mark you out as likely prey !

If he were an "official" station bearer, he would have a numbered brass plate on an armband or on his pugri (pagri ?), the head-pad. It was vital to note this number before entrusting your baggage to him, then you had some come-back. There were even more unofficial bearers, but then you were on your own with them.

"Sixpence", I guess, would be a four-anna coin. As the "proper" rate for Sahibs, IIRC, was a two-anna - and he'd be lucky to get half that from a Bengali gentleman - he was pushing his luck ! No pangs of guilt needed, Sir.

And your: ".......but an Indian 3rd Class carriage was never designed for comfort...... only bare slatted wooden benches".

I find this beyond belief. This must have been a "special" military train, for otherwise all BORs were entitled to travel on normal services in 2nd-Class 4-bunk "cabins" (officers always in 1st-class - much the same thing but better upholstery).

Did they really put British SNCOs and airmen into 4th-Class ? - (open-plan and the cheapest - except for travel on the roof, or hanging on the sides, for which the locals negotiated a price from the train guard - what happened when they came to a tunnel - or an oncoming train passed on the opposite track ? Don't know and don't like to think). 3rd-Class was like 4th but with some upholstery.

(Your #6410),

"To all who have been kind enough to comment on my scribbling - the next instalment will follow shortly, but things will slow down a bit after that as I am still working on completion of the rest!"

Can they slow down a bit now, please, as I'm still struggling to catch up with my exegesis on your #6401 !!

Cheers, Danny.

Nkosi
6th Nov 2014, 09:00
In the dark of the night I sometimes recollect my childhood in Kenya, and especially my time with my uncle who had returned after spending time in POW.
He took me once to Lake Naivasha, a stopping off point for the 'boats' transiting my part of Africa for, I believe Cape Town. I can almost remember the size, smell of the interior of the aircraft and the cockpit, filled with more dials and gauges that you could poke a stick at.

However, you mentioned, Danny, that books on the conflict that you were a part of, RAF wise, were not around. I have managed to get hold of a dog eared copy of a book entitled 'the War In The Air, 1939 - 1945' edited by Gavin Lyall. Within the editors preface he indicates 'this is intended simply to be an anthology of writings from, and about, the British and Commonwealth Airforces in the 1939 -1945 war' it contains songs, poems and extracts from flight reports, from all types and persons, famous or otherwise.

One song mentioned sung to 'I aint a-gonna grieve My Lord no more' which goes:

You'll never go to heaven in a Deffy Two
You ought to see that glycol spew

And that refers to the Defiant II. And there are many more.

It's a great read and if anyone can get their hands on one I recommend it.

Nkosi

Reader123
6th Nov 2014, 09:40
Thanks, I've put it on the reading list. A copy here for only a couple of pounds if anybody else fancies it:

Freedom's Battle - The War in the Air 1939-1945, An Anthology of Personal Experience.

Danny42C
6th Nov 2014, 16:44
Nkosi,

No, what I say is that the market for WWII reminiscences is saturated now, self-publishing any more (for no publisher will take you on) is almost as good a way of losing money as buying Lottery Tickets.

To your "Defiant" jingle, I can add this from the States in '41:

"You cain't get to Heaven in a Ford V-8,
For the Devil, he drives a Chevrolet !"

(Someone may be able to put more couplets to it). Cheers, Danny :ok:

blind pew
6th Nov 2014, 16:57
fareastdriver
I penned an autobiography 5? years ago...went through the self publishing route and then discovered that I would have to chop rather a lot because of the libel act...
The exercise has cost me around £10,000 with an income of less than £1,000.
But researching the bibliography and feedback has explained a lot of what occurred in my career and the systems in place in the UK.
The best part is that it introduced me to pprune and this thread...priceless.
What you can do at virtually zero cost is convert your manuscript using a program for kobo...I will tackle it myself over the winter. The kobo is a cheap e-reader - I have two, one of which I have hacked and installed a vario and GPS for paragliding, so if I'm waiting on a mountain I can read until the take off conditions come on.
Part of the reason I wrote the book is that it is part of the real history of aviation in our time. good luck

harrym
6th Nov 2014, 17:23
Yes Danny, only a fool neglected to upend his footwear before using it (!), and thanks for assuaging my guilt on the matter of tipping.

I am quite certain that our train from Calcutta was an ordinary public service. We did have a reserved carriage - or part of one -, but it was most certainly (very) third class.

Judging from contemporary video clips, rooftop travel is still feature of rail travel in that part of the world, especially in commuter zones; potentially lethal one would think in electrified areas such as Bombay, but perhaps some are not aware of any risk.

Indeed strange things happen in this country too. Remember the recent case, where an impatient potential passenger decided to put his ear to the rail as a means of finding out if his train was coming? Unfortunately he chose the third rail.................

Geriaviator
6th Nov 2014, 17:33
An Indian railway programme earlier this year highlighted the roof-riders and remarked that the 25000-volt catenary despatches a couple of passengers every month. It's safer by rail ... and thanks again for your wonderful stories

Pom Pax
6th Nov 2014, 23:58
You won't get to heaven in a Meteor Jet
'Cause it don't fly that high yet.

1in1
7th Nov 2014, 04:43
Is it Danny's 93rd birthday next Monday the 10th November ? I need time to get all those candles on his cake !

Nkosi
7th Nov 2014, 10:09
We had been flying all day long at a hundred effing feet,
The weather effing awful, effing rain and effing sleet,
The compass it was swinging effing South and effing North,
But we made an effing landfall in the Firth of effing Forth

We joined the effing Air Force 'cos we thought it effing right,
But don't care if we effing fly or we effing fight,
But what we do object to are those effing Opps Room twats
Who sit there sewing stripes on at the rate of effing knots.

An extract from the book previously mentioned

Nkosi

Fionn101
7th Nov 2014, 11:44
@Danny42c - Sir, thank you for your service , your stories, your fascinating insight into life some 70 years ago , and best of all your flying tales of daring do read better than many of my childhood Warlord and Victor comics. I truly sat with you in some of those enchanting tales, thank you so much. I will raise a Guinness this weekend in your honour, (and scout the behind the bar for any Group Captains or above!)

I have been reading this thread since day one ( Cliff , Fred , Reg, R.I.P. Sirs) and finally I get to say thank you to a real WW2 pilot. I daydream of what it must have been like for you during the conflict, and can only begin to imagine the hardships endured, Again it makes me say thank you for passing your story on. Lest we Forget.

Danny , knowing you through your writing has been a great Honour to us all , I repeat so many of these stories to all and sundry who will listen and long may it last.

Also I see it is your birthday fast approaching , everyone in the crew room , 3 Cheers for Danny ....

Is Mise Le Meas,
Fionn

Danny42C
7th Nov 2014, 16:40
1in1,

'Fraid so. But the candles on the cake idea is a non-starter ('Elf 'n Pastry wouldn't allow it, for a start !)....D.

Nkosi,

A good one ! I've quoted this a long time ago, but it'll stand repetition (tune: "Lili Marlene")

"Roarin' down the runway, throttles open wide,
Second dickey snoring - he just came for the ride,
Over the treetops out of sight,
It's pourin' down and black as night !
............(Refrain)............
We're Right Around the Cor-ner,
We're Right Around the Bend !"

(31 Sqdn [Daks in Burma]).......D.

Fionn,

You do me too much honour, Sir !

Dublin, eh ? So your Guinness may be "drawn from the wood" (or is that a thing of the past ?), whereas mine is "draught" (out of a can ! - only an Irishman could think of that !)

"Is mise Le Meas" ? Translate, please - I haven't a word of my ancestral tongue !.....D.

EDIT:

Looked it up: "Sincerely Yours" And to you, Sir !.....D.

Thanks! and cheers to you all, Danny.

CharlieJuliet
7th Nov 2014, 20:40
Hi Danny, Many Happy Returns for Monday! We produced a more modern version of your ditty in '68:


Roaring down the runway, throttles open wide
Goes the mighty Phantom as it sways from side to side
Airborne again without a clue
There's f*** all else that we can do
But we're pressing on regardless for the wingco's AFC

smujsmith
8th Nov 2014, 22:11
Without a doubt, a wee nip will be raised in the Smith bothy to wish Danny a very happy birthday, and with plenty left in this particular bottle, he had better stay around a bit. Meanwhile, does anyone have memories of the change from war to peace circa 45/46. How quick was the transition, and, what was it like becoming a civvy again. I'm sure as Danny experienced many years later, returning to civvy street in those days may well have been a wrench, for those called to duty at a very young age. I bet there's a few who remember their demob, and might wish to comment.

Happy Birthday on Monday Danny

Smudge:ok:

Danny42C
8th Nov 2014, 23:49
harrym (your #6419),

Now I come to think about 'whole unit' moves by rail in WWII India, I must admit that the only time I was part of one was on the final move of the (VV) 8 IAF Sqdn from the Arakan to Quetta. Then all our airmen would be IAF, the only BORs being our "ground" RAF NCOs, who would not number more than 20 (as they were essentially supervisors).

IIRC, the 1st and 2nd Class 4-berth "cabins" made up one carriage * (perhaps two 1st and four 2nd Class). As all the IAF officers flew the trip, the RAF train element would fit in one of these carriages * (we four officers in one of the 1sts, our RAF NCOs in the 2nds (the SNCOs certainly appropriating the other 1st). The IORs were in the 3rds which comprised the rest of the special train (as 4th would be intolerable on the 16-day journey).

All the other thousands of miles on rail that I travelled in my 3½ years out there were always in 1st (as an officer) or 2nd (as a Sergeant, and all our other BORs would always be so). So it would seem that "It's all been changed" by the time you arrived in the monsoon of '45 - and they packed the "Sahibs" into a 4th Class ! (how long were you on the trip, and what did the troops think of being on bare wooden seats ?) :mad:

Cheers, Danny.

Note *: "Car" in transatlantic parlance.

Wander00
9th Nov 2014, 06:36
Travelling today and tomorrow so may not get on the computer. Consequently, a day early, "Happy Birthday" Danny. Thanks for the light you have brought to our lives.


W

Nkosi
9th Nov 2014, 12:02
Danny, you have given a lot of pleasure to a lot of people, some you may know but most you do not. Thank you.

From a 73 year old to a 93 year old, happy birthday!

Nkosi

harrym
9th Nov 2014, 14:40
Danny, all best wishes for tomorrow 10th!

You mention your 16-day Indian journey, from extreme east to ditto west - I pale at the very idea. Surely it was not in the same train the whole way, I would have thought at least one break of gauge somewhere along the way.

My journey from Calcutta to Comilla involved one night on the first train (broad gauge, a day on a vast river (Brahmaputra?), then another night from river to Comilla on metre gauge - quite enough thank you, and yes it was not at all comfortable. We were an all NCO crew, Flt Sgt being the highest rank, which no doubt made it easy for the authorities to allocate us to 'slum' class.

Fantome
9th Nov 2014, 16:13
Like to add a hearty many happy returns to all the others firm in the belief that your blood sir's worth bottlin'.

As Ted Sly (ex 92 East India Sqn North Africa . . wan tok with Nevil Duke)
and who passed away last November aged 94, used to say -

luck of the draw, you've got to remember . . . it's just luck of the draw

. . . and that's exactly what he called his autobiography 'The Luck of the Draw'


(Ted's always farewell as he saw us off from his home in Byron Bay, can hear him yet . .. . went . . .." Fly high and you'll live a longtime." . . . Que hombre!)

Typhoon93
9th Nov 2014, 18:25
A very Happy Birthday and best wishes for tomorrow, Sir!

Ormeside28
9th Nov 2014, 19:56
Happy Birthday Danny. Your story was fascinating. Thank you for bearing with mine. Hope you have many more birthdays.

Union Jack
9th Nov 2014, 23:13
With very best wishes on achieving 93 not out and may your innings go into the record books!

Have a thoroughly enjoyable birthday, which you greatly deserve for all the thoroughly enjoyable days you have so freely and generously given to us.:ok::ok:

Jack

Danny42C
9th Nov 2014, 23:19
harrym (your #6431),

Thanks for the Good Wishes !

" I would have thought at least one break of gauge somewhere along the way".

One gauge, but two trains ! We went from Dohazari to the ferry broad gauge, then our "Showboat" crossed the Sunderbans E-W. This vast swamp was the delta of both the Bramahputra and the Ganges, the B. came from the NE, the G. from the NW, but as the channels were always shifting, your "mighty river" might be either or both.

(Parachuting down in that part of the world was reputed to be hazardous, as if you landed in salt water, the Bay of Bengal sharks would have you, if in fresh the "muggers" (alligators) would take you, on dry(ish) land the Bengal tiger - they were still around then - would make you his dinner ! - it was "Safer by Rail").

On the W. bank, we were on broad gauge all the way again to Calcutta and right across to Baluchistan (whole story Page 150 #2983). You would go North to Comilla on narrow gauge, I suppose. ( I believe there was some rolling stock made with two sets of wheels on one axle, but cannot see that would be very safe on narrow gauge for fast passenger traffic).

"made it easy for the authorities to allocate us to 'slum' class".

Disgraceful ! Had they forgotten that the first requisite to being the Ruling Class is to look like a Ruling Class ? (their own Maharajahs and our Viceroys knew this all too well !). Sahibs (even 2nd class Sahibs like us Sgt/Pilots and the BORs), travelling 4th ???

Letting the Side Down, by Gad, Sir - fella' in charge of this should be horsewhipped !

(Incredulous old Sahib) Danny. :rolleyes:

pzu
10th Nov 2014, 01:23
Hi Danny, was going to try for some form of 'Card' greeting, but instead am posting a link to a certain South African Forum

The post is from a guy who has just had a flight in Spitfire Mk IX G-CCCA "Bremont" at Duxford - what could possibly be the Ultimate Birthday present

Some great cockpit photo's and an out of kilter video

My Experience in Spitfire Mk IX G-CCCA "Bremont" (http://www.flyafrica.info/forums/showthread.php?68328-My-Experience-in-Spitfire-Mk-IX-G-CCCA-quot-Bremont-quot)

Anyway Happy Birthday Danny

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

son of a 608 SATCO

https://www.flickr.com/photos/21234417@N06/8618161491/

FantomZorbin
10th Nov 2014, 08:19
Very many Happy Returns of the day Sir!


Your contributions to this thread have excelled in maintaining its upward trajectory of enlightened, informative and downright fascinating comment ... thank you so much.

camlobe
10th Nov 2014, 08:28
Many happy returns Danny.

Camlobe

Ian Burgess-Barber
10th Nov 2014, 09:42
Many Happy Returns to Danny, with thanks for his past and all the best for the future - so as 'himself' says so regularly on this thread - Cheers!

Ian BB

ricardian
10th Nov 2014, 10:06
Many Happy Returns to you Danny42c and thanks for your excellent reminiscences. From a former RAF corporal who served 1959-73, had no direct contact with aircraft (worked in communication centres or "commcens"), didn't get shot at, didn't shoot anyone, didn't get any medals and has enjoyed reading your postings

Fareastdriver
10th Nov 2014, 10:07
Many Happy returns from me too.

Fareastdriver

Chugalug2
10th Nov 2014, 10:26
Happy Birthday Danny! You are, and will always be, an inspiration and example to us all.
Chug

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTLzxUAmLps

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGULglonT_A

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8RqlK1d1_k

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4ohwlL_QhI

Oh, and perhaps best of all (pretty please mods):-
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/0906393655/ref=olp_product_details?ie=UTF8&me=

Molemot
10th Nov 2014, 14:44
Just to add my best wishes and appreciation.....many happy returns, Danny!!

54Phan
10th Nov 2014, 18:23
A very happy birthday to you, Danny. All the best, sir.

MPN11
10th Nov 2014, 19:15
Danny42C ... you are a bloody STAR. And as an ex-ATCO, that's STAR and Bar :)

Happy Birthday, Guv'nor ... aah, if only we could all turn up at your doorstep to celebrate it with you!

Taphappy
10th Nov 2014, 19:15
Happy Birthday Danny, will raise a glass of finest malt in your honour.
Ad Multos Annos.
John

Harry Lime
10th Nov 2014, 20:50
A Very Happy Birthday to you Danny. Or as they say in the Old Country, Lá bhreithe shon agut. That's the best I can remember after more than fifty years since my last lesson in Gailge.

Danny42C
10th Nov 2014, 23:36
Gentlemen, Today is the 10th !

(and Danny is putting a Cyberbarrel on tomorrow night in the CyberCrewRoom - CyberMetMan swears it'll be No Fly tomorrow (perhaps the fact that we invited him [and the Moderators] might have had something to do with that), so the 8hr Rule can safely be ignored). Let Joy be Unconfined !

Now I am absolutely overwhelmed by the mountain of Birthday good wishes which you have piled upon me: it would be invidious to mention all your names, so all I can say is that I thank you all most sincerely for your kindness. And I can assure you that my self-imposed task (of telling the story of an unexceptional young man who served in the RAF through five years of hot war and later twenty-three of Cold) has been an absorbing pleasure for me for me to write, and I'm gratified that it seems to have been of interest to others across the globe.

As Ted Sly RIP (quoted earlier by Fantome) said: "...luck of the draw, you've got to remember . . . it's just luck of the draw...." That summarises my "career" (and that of all who served) - for Fate takes many turns (and different ones for each one of us).

Yet among the host of birthday greetings, there are interesting general points which deserve thought and reply; I may put in a few words about these in the next few days.

93 ? - whoever would have thought it ? Yet I have a brother-in-law who is due to receive his Telegram from H.M. on 11th December - so there's hope for us all yet !

Written in the last minutes (GMT) of the 10th, then,

Goodnight, all and God Bless, Danny. :ok:

Pom Pax
11th Nov 2014, 05:33
Danny,
Pom Pax, (Your #6358)
I bet your Dad (ex-RFC) told you a tale or two - did you remember any ?
today it seems appropriate to recall one of the few tales my Father told. When I was at 2ANS, TI., I having no sense rhythm mentioned I was having difficulty with learning morse code. He got out his practice key and after a few adjustments to correct a few things I had done when younger and had found it and used it as a toy that made noise, he started to tap.
Now this message was far too fast for me to read even if he had not probably touched the key for 49 years. When asked what he was "saying" he replied,
"On this day Armistice is signed at 11 a.m."
He said they had to send this all day, now if send meant actually meant broadcast or just sit in a hut in Denham and practice I know not. At the time I assumed actually to broadcast.

Note 1. This message can be said three ways, I am not sure I have posted the correct one.

Note 2. Due to time difference I've drawn a glass from the cyber-barrel, Cheers Danny & thanks.
Nick.

harrym
11th Nov 2014, 14:50
Thank you Danny for pointing me towards your #2983. As a comparative newbie I can see I will have to go back and catch up with your older postings - something to look forward to during the coming winter!

Your Indian transcontinental journey was indeed an epic. Re gauge breaks, I believe the problem is usually solved today by having wheels that can be slid along the axles and locked in position as required; another, more ponderous, method is to lift the carriages and replace the bogies. Apologies if this already known....

Today being 11/11 it seems not inappropriate to post my next 'episode', as it covers the final ending of another great conflict:


On the upper part of the Bay of Bengal, the July-August period sees the peak of the south west monsoon period. Rain, frequent and usually torrential, sometimes continuous for hours on end and often accompanied by strong winds, lightning, and intense thunder, was often our lot – nowhere else have I heard thunder reverberate so threateningly, booming and echoing endlessly among those monstrous pillars of cauliflower and anvil-headed cloud that generate it. These phenomena usually occurred as part of a broader weather pattern, being mixed up with and concealed from view in more innocuous stratus-type cloud, and were a constant and much-feared in-flight hazard - for it was commonly believed that the turbulence they generated could overstress an aircraft to destruction.

Now while some aircraft did indeed come to grief in this way, it has always been open to dispute as to whether this was due to mis-handling placing strain on the aircraft additional to that already generated by the rough air, or straightforward airframe failure on its own. At that time there was no agreed ‘best technique’ for flight in such conditions, the later proven method of riding the storm using smooth, gentle control inputs to maintain attitude rather than ‘fighting the controls’ being only one of several methods advocated by sundry local ‘experts’; so yes, little doubt that poor handling might have been responsible for at least a few of the losses that occurred, as experience since then has shown that thunderstorms can be penetrated without necessarily coming to grief. Nevertheless the practice is, without doubt, best avoided for it is impossible to predict exactly what they may contain and even flight adjacent to them can be hazardous - as I discovered to my cost in later years, with assault by hailstones (in clear air) resulting in a seriously damaged windscreen.

A typical day’s work would start about an hour before dawn, being shaken rudely awake by an RAF policeman on his early call round. Following an inadequate, greasy breakfast of ill-tasting powdered egg, beans (if lucky) and one of those detestable triangular soya link sausages, a slow and bumpy ride standing in the back of a 3-ton truck delivered us to the flight line. Here we went through the usual, rather basic, pre-flight procedures, having first been told of our task for the day. This was invariably to deliver a load of stuff such as food rations, drums of petrol, general cargo or sometimes passengers, to any one of a small selection of airfields in the central Burmese plain about ninety minutes flying time away. Then followed the formality of a meteorological briefing, when the forecaster would warn in general terms of the high probability of storms over the coastal mountain range we had to cross (a statement of the obvious), after which we would walk out to the flight line to our allotted aircraft. No doubt a flight plan was drawn up at some stage, but there was little point really; one just took off and climbed up heading in a vaguely ENE direction, knowing that, on breaking cloud after passing the high ground, one’s destination was readily found by using certain prominent landmarks that were easily picked out in the clear conditions prevailing east of the mountains. No fuel load calculations were needed as more than enough was carried for the return flight, the standard (and highly wasteful) procedure being to brim tanks prior to departure..

Daylight was usually breaking as our stream of Daks taxied towards the runway, the psp (*1) rattling and clanking beneath, while it was most likely raining as well. Given an all-up weight that invariably approached the 31,000lb maximum, considerably above the normal (I think) peacetime limit of 26,500lb, - see below), take-off was always a protracted affair - just as well that our Pratt & Whitney engines were so reliable! Climbing up through the rain and cloud, one scanned anxiously ahead for any lightening of the murk that might indicate a break into clear air, but might equally well be glare reflected off large storm clouds lying just the other side of said break; for with search radar long in the future, avoidance of rough stuff was a mixture of luck and instinct with (most of the time) the former predominant. Too often, emergence into clear conditions revealed a line of towering cumulus right ahead; trying to out-climb their rapid build-up was futile, leaving only two options - turn left or right and fly along the wall of cloud looking for a gap, or turn back. In practice this latter course was seldom if ever taken, and eventually a likely-looking spot would probably appear and one would turn hopefully towards it with crossed fingers.

What happened next was like a toss of the dice, either light rain and a slight bump or two at one extreme or at the other an impression of flying through almost solid water, accompanied by the roughest of rough rides. Being unpressurised, water leaks were a constant nuisance - indeed it was said that Dakota pilots were always recognisable from their oil-stained trousers, the incoming water having picked up fluid that had escaped from the hydraulically driven windscreen wipers. But eventually one broke out into clear air, so soon it was time to think about descent towards our destination – during my brief period at Akyab usually Myingyan or Meiktila, then little more than dusty landing strips in the central plain.

Now while the Dak was a viceless bird it was, like all others, subject to the normal laws of aerodynamics and thus could, if mishandled, catch out the unwary; so on my first attempt at arrival I was both surprised and highly mortified when, instead of our wheels kissing the runway as expected we struck the ground an almighty thump, bounding back into the air so vigorously that it was necessary to apply full power and go 'round again' for another attempt. The experienced pilot accompanying me (normal procedure for a 'new boy'), after pointing out that a heavily loaded aircraft was a different animal from the near-empty ones I had been accustomed to, recommended that a trickle of power be kept on during the flare and idle power only selected after positive main wheel contact.

By using this technique it was easy to achieve a 'greaser' every time but it had its drawbacks, most notably an increase in the landing run – especially so as, to ensure a greater delicacy in elevator response, one tended to use less flap than for a textbook landing. In a combination of ignorance and laziness I adopted this method as standard, for it worked fine on runways of adequate length but, in less favourable conditions, could be a potential trap for the ignorant or stupid such as myself. This I found out the hard way when one day, confronted with a runway considerably shorter than normal, my gross mishandling placed myself and crew in a near-fatal situation - from which we recovered only by instinct, good luck, and an instant response from Messrs Pratt & Whitney. A lesson was duly learned, though only later did I realise my learning had been flawed and I was duly steered in the right direction by older and wiser aviators (in the best traditions of the comic press, for a full account don't miss the next issue – or maybe the one after!). There is also the point that we were operating at weights probably not envisaged by Mr Douglas and his design team; for aside from the usual over weight condition at takeoff, there can be little doubt that, on short sectors anyway, we must have been well above any sensible landing weight limit too.

The return flight back to Akyab was almost invariably without payload, reduced weight allowing the aircraft a more nimble performance. Taking advantage of this we would sometimes indulge in a little (illegal) low flying, before having to climb and confront again the coastal mountain range and its storm clouds that had usually been re- invigorated since our outbound run; so once more we bumped our way through the murk, rain lashing the windscreen and again soaking our trousers, guided by the steady needle of the radio compass that indicated base lay dead ahead. With luck we might break free of solid cloud, commencing descent homewards through a grey and overcast sky as the three-pronged Baronga islands appeared distantly through the murk, thus signalling we had not far to go; probably it would still be raining, if hopefully light enough for only rivulets to run diagonally across the glass rather than those almost solid walls of water of a few minutes before.

With July shading into August it was apparent that, with our task in Burma visibly diminishing, we would soon be engaged in the next stage of our war i.e. the reconquest of Malaya. There was much speculation as to what form this might take, but was in any case obvious that it would not be an easy task. For geographical reasons, any notion of an overland advance down the long, thin isthmus linking Malaya with Burma and Thailand was hardly feasible, leaving an air-supported amphibious operation as the only alternative. For us this would mean a flight of at least several hundred miles to the most likely area of assault, probably on the mainland near Penang – but the most interesting unknown was, then what? There & back was at the limit of (if not outside) a Dakota's operating range, while en-route diversion airfields were either inadequate or non-existent; perhaps our invading forces would concentrate on capturing the airfield at Butterworth before we ran out of fuel? Much hot air was expended in consideration of what the future held for us, until the (literal) bombshell of August 6th reverberated round the world; yes the war continued for a few days yet, but the destruction of Hiroshima made it obvious that Japan had to yield.

As indeed it did, nine days later. All work ceased on the news coming through in late afternoon, the various bars filling to capacity in a remarkably short space of time with life becoming rather hazardous as sundry firearms were discharged in a sort of disorganised 'feu du joie”. I regret to say I joined in, fortunately having the presence of mind to point my revolver skyward while doing so before subsiding (like many others) into an alcoholic stupor; yes disgraceful I know, but we were young and now knew we could be reasonably sure of survival into a post-war world.

Although aware my crew was scheduled for an early flight the following I had stupidly assumed that, with the war now virtually over and Victory celebrated world-wide, all tasks would be cancelled for at least a day or two; but no, I was roughly shaken into life at some ungodly hour to undertake whatever our masters had laid on for us. Following the accustomed bumpy ride to the flight line, in the company of many other gin-soaked crews, we were told to take a load of rations to an unfamiliar destination - Toungoo, an isolated spot some distance north of Rangoon, and in an area covered largely by secondary jungle. As this reputedly contained isolated pockets of Japanese troops, I felt some disquiet as we dragged out the latter part of the flight at low altitude; might they take some pot shots at us? An unworthy idea of complaining to our navigator for miscalculation of the descent point did occur to me, but was soon dismissed – for, beyond doubt, was he not suffering the same withdrawal symptoms as the rest of us?

Over the next two weeks the daily task grew ever more slim, so it was no surprise to be informed that the whole sub-cheese (*2) - all the Akyab based squadrons, not just us – would move en masse to Mingaladon, Rangoon's main airfield about 20 miles north of the city; so, come the day, we piled into our Daks, air and ground crew all mixed up together, and set off on the fairly short flight further south wondering what the future might hold.


Notes:

*1: Pierced (or perforated, according to preference) steel planking, a real war-winner used worldwide for construction of temporary airfields, was a thoroughly brilliant invention consisting of steel planks approx 8ft x 1½ ft which were little more than a series of holes connected by metal; they could be slotted together endlessly (and in multiple layers if necessary, for added strength) to quickly make roads or runways that required little maintenance. Like the barbed wire pickets of WW1, still used to this day in some parts of rural NE France, PSP lingered usefully long after WW2 and may yet be found in some out of the way locations. It had its drawbacks of course, being skid-prone when wet while tyre damage could result if adjoining plates became unfastened.


*2: Sub-Cheese: An Indian word (probably Urdu, which I think was a language that might loosely be termed 'military Hindustani') meaning 'everything, the whole lot, etc', here spelt phonetically; I never saw it in writing so am unable to do any better, but perhaps Danny can provide some enlightenment!

Danny42C
11th Nov 2014, 22:42
harrym, (your #6451, just in),

Will have a good hard look and will come back to you on this after I've got a few "quickies" away (the first of these relates to your #6401 and #6410). But, for starters, "Sub" does have the meaning "All" or "The Whole", eg "Sub Sahibs", I'm not sure about "Sub-cheese". Must look it up (we used it a lot to mean "everthing"). Probably dog-Hindi, as Urdu ("I urdu first time !") mostly the lingua franca of present Pakistan. And then again, it might not be.

Back to your #6401: "a night in the boondocks"

"The Boondocks is an American expression which comes from the Filipino word "bundok" (Wiki); this is obviously from the same SE Asiatic root as the word "bundoo" we used for "jungle" or "out in the sticks".

And your #6410:

"In later life I discovered my great-great grandfather had died in Calcutta, some time in the 1820s; he was serving in the East India Company's private army, and probably was a victim of the combined effects of a tropical climate....." (it was said: "The life of a man is two monsoons" out there in those days).

Had you known at the time, you would almost certainly have been able to find him in the Park Road Cemetery in Calcutta, where I believe burials were taking place up to 200 years ago.

Cheers, Danny.

Pom Pax,

A few Posts ago, I said: ".....there are interesting general points which deserve thought and reply; I may put in a few words about these in the next few days..."

Straight on cue, in comes the last one - which I shall deal with, most unfairly, first. Your tale of your Dad and his treasured Morse key hits the button with me.

On my five months "Deferred Service", I carried on with my C.S. job. All the older men in the office were WW1 veterans. One of them had been a Signaller: he improvised a double-acting Morse key from a twelve-inch ruler rocking across a pencil on the desk (surprisingly effective - try it).

On this I learned Morse: nearly all forgotten now except 'C' (- . -.) - 'Murder, Murder', he knew it as: I remember it as 'Umpty-iddy-umpty-iddy' on the 'double-acting' "key" ruler.

Your Dad sounds like a Signaller at some HQ; all Unit signals units under its command would, I presume, have to be on separate W/T frequencies. He probably had to call all the units in turn, to ensure that no one pressed a trigger after 11 'ack-emma' on the 11th.

"Send this all day ? Case of: "shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted", surely !

Cheers, Pom Danny.

Smudge (#6427)

I well remeber the "pork-pie" hat they gave me (wore it for years). The brown brogues weren't bad, either.......D.

pzu (#6437),

Tried both links, no joy, seems I have an old-fashioned version of Internet Explorer, would bring it up to date if I knew how - but thanks, anyway !

Your chap must have been in one of the Mk.IX (T)s; until I'd had a ride in one (out of the question now), would be very doubtful about it feeling the same as the single-seaters. The RAF had no use for it (other than providing the IXs for the conversion). Can anyone tell me, was it possible to instruct # from the back seat (did you have dual u/c control, for a start ?)......D.

Chug (#6443),

Tried the links (all same result as pzu's) - but struck oil with the South American River.

Yes, I've got the book and regard it as my Bible for the Vultee Vengeance. Very good on the production history, and plenty of good pictures (and no, I'm not in the Index myself - although many of the people I've flown with (and mentioned here) are - so it's no use guessing !)

Another good source of info and photos is BHARAT RAKSHAK (go for 8 Sqn IAF)......D.

Taphappy (#6447),

Et ad te, Johannes ! - a fellow "Pes-Sinister", I see........D.

Harry Lime (#6448),

Tried Google-Translate, came out with something about a chap called Sweeney - don't know him ! ......D.

My regards to you all, Danny.

Warmtoast
11th Nov 2014, 23:07
HarryM & Danny42C


Given your service in Burma you may be interested to see this propaganda poster from 1942 by Roy Nockolds showing the RAF beating hell out of the Japs at Moulmein. Bit of poetic licence here I think - Wellingtons bombing at what looks like 100ft?

(Copyright the National Archives poster collection).


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RoyNockoldsPoster1942_zps7e0de16f.jpg

Harry Lime
12th Nov 2014, 11:56
Danny 42C

Check your PMs for translation, a tad better than Google's!

Clear Three.

Danny42C
12th Nov 2014, 17:04
Warmtoast,

I think that was a figment of the artist's imagination ! They are certainly Wellingtons, but IIMC we only had a few out there, and they certainly wouldn't be attacking at nought feet ! The things on the ground are supposed to be "Bettys" or "Sallys".

I don't remember seeing any of them in my time there, but I believe the VVs cooperated in a joint attack with a single "Wimpey" (reputedly carrying a 4,000 lb bomb) somewhere in N. Burma. It was called "Operation Wimpo" - but I can't trace it now. We (110 Sqn or 8 Sqn (IAF) were not involved.

Whatever "heavy" bombing we did would be with the B-24s (ours was mainly tactical)...... Danny.

EDIT: And what are they doing out there, bombing in broad daylight in home night black instead of jungle camouflage, and full roundels instead of the SEAAC white and blue !...D.

MPN11
12th Nov 2014, 17:25
Artistic licence, Danny42C ... the Public don't care about the wrong (1940) roundels or any other details. They just want pictures of the beastly enemy being bombed. There was a War on, you may recall :D

It would be nice it it were accurate, but then you only have to look at the current RAF website to see how the cognoscente can spot errors from 500 yards/meters/metres :hmm:

ValMORNA
12th Nov 2014, 20:28
Danny42C,


Another classic example of the 'double-hander' Morse key used a hacksaw blade. Unfortunately such 'Bug Keys' were no use with the T1154/R1155 as the keying relay (TX when dot/dash contact made, RX when on space) couldn't keep up with more than moderate key speeds.

Taphappy
12th Nov 2014, 21:26
Danny,
Wonderful Latin description. More subtle way of gaining information rather than asking what school one attended.
Johannes(Fellow Per-Sinister)

Danny42C
12th Nov 2014, 21:59
Johannes,

Pes (pes, pedem) actually !

Danny.

Tim Mills
13th Nov 2014, 03:34
Two things, Danny. First shame at missing your birthday, you are still only eight and a half years ahead of mr, and far brighter in the memory stakes, and many congratulations.

Secondly as I think I have said before many posts ago, I was lucky enough to get some 50 Spit hours in during filming of the B of B film, and a fair few of them were back seat driving with no one in the front, only some sort of camera equipment to get gunsight pictures. Often a cameraman would be in the front seat as well. So, yes all the essentials are repeated in the back so far as I remember.

And so far as handling is concerned, it felt much the same as the standard Mk9. My favourite was the Mk2 which I think is still with the Memorial Flight.

Happy days. As my old chief pilot used to say 'Only perfect, Tim, but will have to do!'

Pom Pax
13th Nov 2014, 07:17
Bit of poetic licence here I think - Wellingtons bombing at what looks like 100ft?

Yer them Wellingtons wurz Blenheims abert 6 of 'em not only 4.
Those 6 made up most of the force in the area at the time though they were sometimes backed by another front line bomber the Lysander.
Learnt a bit from reading extracts from A Flying Tiger's Diary
By Charles R. Bond on Google books. (http://books.google.com.au/books?id=voeOKZ8FdI0C&pg=PA37&dq=raf+bomb+Moulmein&source=gbs_toc_r&cad=3#v=onepage&q=raf%20bomb%20Moulmein&f=false)

26er
13th Nov 2014, 08:39
Tim Mills


Your flying from the back seat with a cameraman in the front reminds me of that rubbish film "High Flight" the second unit of which joined us at Nicosia to take "action" shots of Hunters. Somebody had the bright idea that the cockpit view of approach and landing would be great so Mr Pavey, the shortish but rotund cameraman was strapped into the front seat of a Meteor 7. A piece of wood was then placed across the cockpit and his large camera was balanced on this pointing through the front windscreen. I then leaned in, started the engines, strapped myself in the rear seat, closed the hood and off we went for several circuits and rollers. If suitable pictures eventually resulted I know not, but they certainly didn't appear in the cinema version.

Danny42C
14th Nov 2014, 15:19
harrym,

Your #6451 was another mine of interest !

Your: "....little doubt that poor handling might have been responsible for at least a few of the losses that occurred....."

Having survived three Monsoons of punching through cumulonimbobumblies, I would say that you are absolutely correct. The greatest danger was of becoming disorientated, losing control and being chucked out at the bottom too low to recover.

As the VV was built like the Forth Bridge, there was little risk of structural damage (and a Dak should do all right), but light civilian aircraft had been torn to pieces before. The only precautions I remember taking were: slow down as far as possible, turn the cockpit lights to 'max' - so as not to be blinded by a lightning flash - and drop your seat right down and tighten the straps - so as not to be knocked out against the canopy above by a big bump.

Then just let the aircraft "ride" the storm, doing the minimum to keep roughly S&L. On no account try to climb or descend or turn round to get back out again ! If the engine(s) keep running, sooner or later you must come out the other side into clear air.

And your:

".... typical day’s work would start about an hour before dawn, being shaken rudely awake by an RAF policeman on his early call round. Following an inadequate, greasy breakfast of ill-tasting powdered egg, beans (if lucky) and one of those detestable triangular soya link sausages....."

This is barbarous ! You should have a gentle tap from your bearer, as he put down a mug of the charwallah's best by your bedside. They do know about chickens in Burma, ergo there are plenty of eggs to be had (but no bacon). I think your trouble was: you had RAF cooks, and not a local who could do marvellous things with very little.

As for the soya link, it is an acquired taste which I never acquired (they always seem to have a taste of fish). I suppose it would keep you alive if need be, but a lot of the tins were used to fill-in potholes before putting the mud back ! Just one of the Horrors of War.

And your: ".....''over the coastal mountain range we had to cross......" It would be the Arakan Yomas.

"....heavily loaded aircraft was a different animal from the near-empty ones....".

Heavy or empty, as all the kutcha strips were rough (and paved and psp runways not much better), it always paid to come in slow with a fair deal of power on, and then dump it down (it was the only way with a VV, anyway).

"....leaving an air-supported amphibious operation as the only alternative. For us this would mean a flight of at least several hundred miles to the most likely area of assault, probably on the mainland near Penang....."

My story about the fiasco of an "invasion" attempt on the coast just south of Phuket Island (Page 251, #5016) was either based on a myth in the first place - or has been airbrushed out of history since - but may interest you. Did you ever hear of anything like that ?

Cheers, Danny.

Fareastdriver
14th Nov 2014, 15:49
Then just let the aircraft "ride" the storm, doing the minimum to keep roughly S&L.

Not trying to teach you to suck eggs nut do you mean 'fly for attitude'. Select the minimum power speed and hold the attitude letting the airspeed and altitude wander on the basis of what goes up will come down and vis versa.

I was told this in the Carribean by the crew of a Constellation whose job it was to fly into hurricanes to find the core; this was before the days of satellites. They said that if you stuck to those rules you could not go far wrong.

I have flown helicopters a lot in the tropics, Belize, Borneo, Malaysia and China and several times I have had to, or, at night, inadvertently flown into some fairly violent clouds and that plot seemed to work out all right.

The greatest gift in those circumstance is weather radar. Sometimes you hold, sometimes you fold, sometimes you flee.

Geriaviator
14th Nov 2014, 17:45
http://www.pprune.org/<a href=http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Oldnotbold/media/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg.html target=_blank>[IMG]http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpghttp://www.pprune.org/<a href=&quot;<a href=http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Oldnotbold/media/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg.html&quot; target=_blank>http://s1278.photobucket.com/user/Oldnotbold/media/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg.html&quot;</a> target=&quot;_blank&quot;><img src=&quot;<a href=http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg&quot; target=_blank>http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg&quot;</a> border=&quot;0&quot; alt=&quot; photo MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg&quot;/></a>http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/MacLeancrashgrave_zps8ce8fe89.jpg

I posted this little tribute a couple of years ago but thought pPruners might like to see it again, with the addition of the photo of the crashed Wellington kindly given to me recently by the descendant of a 142 Sqn airman.

Douglas Alfred MacLean joined the RAF in 1936 and like most MacLeans in the RAF, he was nicknamed Dandy after the police inspector series published in the Weekly News. He met my father in 1938 when they trained as air gunners.

Both were posted to 142 Sqn operating Hawker Hart biplanes out of Andover. Shortly afterwards the squadron re-equipped with Fairey Battles, with which they went to war in 1939, being stationed at Berry-au-Bac in France.

When the squadron returned to Binbrook in Lincolnshire my father was posted away but kept in close touch with Dandy who had become rear gunner on the Wellingtons with which 142 had re-equipped.

On the night of June 18 1941 Dandy's Wellington was attacked by a night fighter over the North Sea, and he was fatally wounded. The Wellington was able to reach Binbrook and Dandy was buried in his home town of Southampton. I myself arrived into this world at just about the time Dandy was leaving it.

Tim Mills
15th Nov 2014, 04:35
26er, rollers in a Meatbox from the back seat with cameraman in the front, no doubt strapped in, but also wooden plank and movie camera perhaps not, sounds pretty exciting. And no sign in the resulting film, what a let down! At least I think I remember the odd scene in the BofB film that I could brag about to my kids!

Geriaviator
15th Nov 2014, 11:31
Long ago I was tasked to introduce a visitor to aerobatics. This was a delightful duty as she was VERY pretty; my briefing was even more longwinded than usual, as was the careful strapping into the front seat (sigh) for the Tiger Moth was normally flown from the back in order to maintain its balance. There was no intercom so we agreed that thumb up would mean good, thumb down meant take me smoothly back to the airfield.


We began very gently with chandelles, then loops, then a barrel roll which produced both thumbs held high and a big smile over her shoulder (another sigh). The 90-deg stall turn went equally well, as did the slow roll until we became inverted and fell into the straps. This was too much for the maiden, who grabbed the handle which Mr. de Havilland had conveniently situated in the centre of the cockpit and held it tight.


My first reaction was that the controls had locked, as the Tiger fell out of the roll into a half-loop and started up the other side before the beautiful one remembered her briefing and released the stick. In fairness she was very apologetic once back on the ground and compensated with a big hug and kiss (last sigh).


My old CFI, who had 4000 hours on wartime Tiger Moth instruction, laughed his leg off: “it's the only time you want a girl to keep her hands to herself, lad, next time take the stick out of the front”.

Danny42C
15th Nov 2014, 23:26
Geriaviator,

Some folk have all the luck ! I gave a bit of air-experience to my troops when Adj of an auxiliary FCU (mostly TM, some Harvard). Reactions varied, some, terrified, would not touch the stick. Others went at it with gusto, and I had to grab it back before they tore the wings off the Tiger and killed us both.

Never knew the stick in front of the TM was detachable. What purpose might that serve ? But only shows: "YLSNED" - you learn something new every day ! So was the back one detachable, too ? Did they clip to the side of the fuselage, like the ones in our VV back seats ? Funny, I don't remember that (but then there are an awful lot of things I don't remember now - it's been a long time).

But this awakens a faint memory of an old story once heard (can't remember the context). As far as I recall (and applying it to the TM sticks), some instructor, in one last desperate attempt to instil some confidence in his student, takes his twig out and chucks it overboard (having first, I would suppose, secretly attached to it a length of strong twine).

Stude obligingly copies the instructor, and throws his out ! (hope my supposition was correct, and string didn't break !) But then it mustn't have done, otherwise there'd be no story, would there ? :ok:

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
15th Nov 2014, 23:50
Tim Mills (your #6160),

Thanks for the birthday greeting ! (I'll "do the ton" yet). As for the Spits IX(T), it seems that they could have been flown by a lone chap in the back after all. I previously thought that all he could do was proffer advice and sympathy to the lad in front, but couldn't take-off or land it. You live and learn ! So the Irish A.A.F. weren't as daft as I thought.

As to its practicability as a trainer, I note that the BBMF did not choose one as a lead-in to their Spits and the Hurricane for the new boys, but a Harvard instead (right choice IMHO).

The Mk.II was much the same as the Mk.I (the best of all to fly), which we had on my OTU in '42. The reason was simple: All-up-weights (lbs roughly): Mk.I 6400, Mk.II a bit heavier, Mk.V 6600, Mk.IX 7500 (Mk.XVI - same thing), Mk. XIV (Griffon) 8000. All flown on the same wing (but that could be "clipped' on most Mks). So the least weight, the nicest aeroplane.

The OTU had one or two Mk.IIs with two cannon; they were used to give us cannon-firing experience, they loaded a few rounds for each gun and sent us to blast-off the sands of Prestatyn. It was terrifying ! I thought the wings were going to be shaken off the poor old thing !

Why bother putting a cameraman and a camera up front to get "gunsight" pictures ? They come with a gun camera (8 or 16mm ?) already in the port wing stub. I suppose someone had nicked that already, but in any case they could have fitted a small video camera instead (and got much better pictures). Or even in one of the empty gun ports.

That would have the advantage of showing 'finals' and landing as well, for a camera in the sight position would see nothing except the big nose in front. As for baulks of timber, the mind boggles !

As you say, 'Happy Days !' Cheers, Danny.

EDIT: We have too wide screen again. Can somebody fix ?

26er
16th Nov 2014, 10:07
Danny, re your last, I think you are confusing the Spitfire and Meteor posts. As I am sure you remember, the Meteor T7 had no guns or gunsight.

Fareastdriver
16th Nov 2014, 10:16
To Danny's defence he was talking about putting the cameras in the film's Spitfires.

Danny42C
16th Nov 2014, 12:23
26er,

Danny is not as confused as all that - yet ! Of course I know that the Meteor 7 had no guns or sights, and no armour plate (and was therefore the best-climber of them all), but all Spits came with a gun camera. So did the Me109, IIRC, but theirs (Zeiss ?) was much better than ours (or their erks cleaned their lens much more often than ours), so many of the gun-camera shots of our brave lads knocking 'em down in the BoB are (if you look carefully) of some poor Hurricane being hacked down (captured German film). And one twin looks remarkably like a Dak.

Of course one of the Hurricanes might've been the victim of the chap awarded (by Wg.Cdr. Spry in Tee Emm) "the Most Highly Derogatory Order of the Irremovable Digit for Guarded Recognition" after saying: "I thought it might be a Hurricane, so I only gave it a short burst !". (What the victim - if he survived - said is not recorded) And what about the Battle of Barking Creek ? - should be some good film there !

Our Spits at OTU had a little bolt-on press button on the spade grip, so you could run the camera (for training purposes) without firing your guns, but we never used it - film too expensive, in too short supply, or too labour-intensive (developing) - to be used on training the likes of us in deflection shooting.

Danny.

Geriaviator
16th Nov 2014, 15:15
Belated congratulations, Danny, and may you see many more! The Tiger Moth front stick is a length of tube about an inch and a quarter in diameter which fits into a socket on the control box between the two cockpits. These days most are secured by a (2BA?) bolt but my TMs had a cotter pin secured by a safety-pin, thereby enabling swift conversion into the Tiger Moth Freighter variant.

Behind the rear cockpit is the luggage locker with a 30lb limit (again from memory) so anything heavier had to go in the front cockpit. Wise aviators first removed the stick and popped it in the locker. If solo, one could put a heavier item in the locker and fly from the front. These useful hints were passed on by my aforementioned CFI who showed how a bicycle could readily be carried on the walkway, strapped to the centre-section struts at the top and the inboard flying wires attachment at the bottom.

In 1968, WOCDST (when one could do such things) we flew our Tiger non-radio to Paris. In pre-EU days good wine was a great deal cheaper, so I removed the front stick and we flew 500 miles home with a few boxes packed round my long-suffering wife. The Customs at Lydd were so amazed or shocked that they didn't charge us any duty.

But surely the most unusual load ever carried by a Moth Freighter variant was the cargo of day-old chicks transported to the Isle of Man as a favour to a farmer friend. After receiving our green from the tower, I and my 400 fluffy passengers landed on the Ronaldsway grass kindly made available by our ATCO friend Theo and his colleagues. Happy days WOCDST and a Tiger Moth did not cost £200+ an hour :eek:

harrym
16th Nov 2014, 17:34
Fareastdriver: yes my intended meaning in #6451was 'fly attitude', but somehow I did not express it too well. Whether or not one allows airspeed and/or altitude to wander depends to some extent on circumstance; in a swept wing bird you might have only a small margin between high & low buffet speeds, while if in busy controlled airspace is it wise to bust an assigned flight level or altitude?

Danny: I remember walking past that cemetery in Calcutta and noting its obvious European aspect, even to the extent of some of the stones leaning drunkenly as in many an ancient UK churchyard. Had I known of my ancestor's presence there I would have investigated, though given the general air of decay I doubt that any inscriptions epitaphs etc would have been legible.

I don't recall ever hearing about the reputed Phuket 'invasion', which of course is not to say it never happened; c--- ups in war are inevitable, and no doubt the SEAC theatre had its fair share. Mingaladon was an almost 100% transport airfield and had any of the Dak squadrons been involved we would certainly have known, while no combat aircraft with the requisite range were based there at the time.

As for expecting the RAF Police to deliver cups of tea, well pigs might fly (I write metaphorically, absolutely no disrespect intended!).

Re Moulmein, there are some words about it in my next post.

Danny42C
16th Nov 2014, 23:18
Geriaviator,

Theywere used as air ambulances (in Burma and elsewhere). See:

Images for Tiger Moth air ambulance (https://www.google.co.uk/images?rlz=1T4ACAW_en___GB534&hl=en-GB&q=Tiger+Moth+air+ambulance&gbv=2&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&ei=ADxpVNekD5DcaunwgdgB&ved=0CFUQsAQ)


Saw a Swordfish once with a bike under each lower wing (lashed to a 4x11½ lb
practice bomb rack. :ok:

D.

Danny42C
16th Nov 2014, 23:38
:oh:Fareastdriver, (your #6464)

You're quite right , but I don't think "attitude" was used in that sense in those days. Still, I suppose we maintained "S&L" Attitude. Later, of course, we said "Fly attitude - never mind the altitude !" If a bump dropped you 500 ft, the next up-cell you flew into would most likely bump you up again. So long as you could keep the wings reasonably level, and the nose more or less on the (artificial) horizon, and didn't topple the gyros, and you had power, you should be all right.

Even lightning strikes are not as serious as once thought. There is a good Utube around, shows a twin-jet of some kind going into LHR and being repeatedly struck with no apparent ill effect. I would think that the loud "Crack" :eek: would be the most frightening thing about the experience.

Weather radar was far in the future in my day.

Cheers, Danny.

Fareastdriver
17th Nov 2014, 08:46
The worst thing I had in China during a thunderstorm was a large bird flying IMC in IFR controlled airspace. It hit the radar radome with a big bang, crushed the dome and jammed the scanner. My radar stopped working so I couldn't weave between the red bits on the radar and the red bits on the windscreen.

That's when I turned around and fled.

Warmtoast
17th Nov 2014, 11:39
The only time I was hit by lightning was on the final approach to Wildenrath in a 99 Sqn Britannia from Lyneham in March 1961 according to my logbook. We'd had manky weather for most of the trip but about four miles from touchdown there was a brilliant green flash with a bang, we'd been hit by lightning - and that was it.

After landing the flight engineer inspected the aircraft for any obvious damage, the only thing to be seen was that the static discharge wicks on the wing had been burnt down to stubs and apart from that we were OK - so not really a big deal and next day we continued our flight transporting the ground crew of a Wildenrath squadron we were taking to Nicosia for exercises.

Fascinating YouTube video of a 747 being hit by lightning shortly after take off here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5IRfbC0RHsY

dogle
17th Nov 2014, 19:17
On "boondocks" mentioned recently, I was expecting our crew members from south of the Tropic of Capricorn, or thereabouts, to jump in and say that the word was merely a corruption of 'bundu' (a view long held by myself).
bundu: definition of bundu in Oxford dictionary (British & World English) (http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/bundu)

- but no, they had more sense .... and I was wrong, at least according to the Dons who seem to support the view that the similarity is coincidental rather than cognate, and boondocks is of separate Native American origin ....

I did enjoy reading, way back, the excellent survival guide by Colonel D. H. Grainger (Rhodesia Army), written with particular concern for pilots who might suffer the inconvenience of engine failure out there, which was entitled "Don't die in the Bundu".

(I'm also glad to see that copies of his work remain available from that riparian supplier).

MPN11
17th Nov 2014, 19:37
Humble Ground lightning strike, but ...

Sat in Tengah Local, with my finger hovering over the Tx switch on the MiniComs panel, with a busy circuit, when one hit the Tower ... and emerged at the Tx switch I was almost holding. Glad they were plastic!

Quick switch of ATC activity to ARC52 and handset, whilst Ground Radio replaced the burned-out unit[s].

Danny42C
17th Nov 2014, 19:49
dogle,

Interesting, but this raises a thought. Does your: "...... and boondocks is of separate Native American origin ...." possibly add some weight to the conjecture that asiatic tribes crossed the Behring Strait in prehistoric days, to become the Native Americans of today ?

I throw it open (pace our kindly Moderators).

D.

Danny42C
17th Nov 2014, 20:19
Fareastdriver,

Good thing your feathered projectile didn't go through the front screen and jam you instead of just your radar ! (and I use the word 'jam' advisedly)

Some time ago I told the tale of getting off my strip just before it turned to mud. On my way to firmer, paved ground, I was somewhere in the clag over the Western Ghats when this black turkey-sized thing flashed just over the cockpit canopy.

I don't know which of us got the greater shock, but if we had connected, the inch or so armoured glass in my front panel should have protected me.

And once, way past v1, I took a s**tehawk in between the cylinders, but that was fatal only to the bird. :ok:

D.

Fareastdriver
18th Nov 2014, 08:18
Big grimaces and sucking of teeth when the Puma HC1 came out. Just behind a fragile centre windscreen were the engine shut off levers. They were positioned precisely where if a large bird hit the Perspex at high speed and went through it would push them both back. There were lots of augments bandied about but in the end all was left alone. As far as I recall it never happened though I may be wrong.

The original Puma Mk1 also had open intakes. This meant that any objects that bounced off the windscreen went into the engines. Fortunately the Turmo 3C engine was of an agricultural design originally built to power railway trains. The first stage compressor, a 100mm. deep titanium chunk, would happily convert sparrows and suchlike into jet fuel.

Later models and also I believe the Puma Mk2 have the elongated shut off levers that are angled so that they cannot be operated by a stray bird. The engines intakes were eventually protected by particle separators, snow dams or chip baskets.

Danny42C
18th Nov 2014, 18:49
Pom Pax (your #6461),

Yer, them Wellingtons wurz Wellingtons in't picture (nothing like a Blenheim, for Pete's sake !) Blenheims I knew well, ever since a pair of 16 yr olds (my cousin and I) propped our bikes against the fence at Wyton one far-off summer day ('38) and longingly watched them doing C&Bs. Little did we know, then.

"Wimpeys" I knew well, too; I watched them being assembled at Hawarden in '42, and one night of pouring rain a sad little group of sodden "guards" surreptitiously gained dry shelter in a parked specimen which had been left with the aft crew door unlocked (and there was a canvas bunk down the back too !) Never flew in 'em, but always had a soft spot for them ever since.

For those of less mature years, perhaps I might add that the well loved "Popeye" cartoon character had, you may recall, a tubby, shambling friend called "J. Wellington Wimpey". The connection was made at once: all were known as "Wimpeys" ever after.

One was the star of a film ("Target for Tonight"), made (I think) by the Ministry of Information in the early part of the war. Well worth seeing, if it ever appears again.

Cheers, Danny.

smujsmith
18th Nov 2014, 18:56
The talk of bird strikes brings to my mind a story I heard years ago, in the days when I was accruing gliding hours. It related to a glider pilot, I believe an Italian, who was soaring in the Alps, some nice big ridges there to provide lots of lovely upwardly flowing air. This chap, it appeared found a thermal, and decided to make use of its assistance. Within minutes of starting his turn, in a solid climb, he noticed an eagle (not sure what kind, I heard a "bloody big one") formatting on his in turn wing tip, and screeching its head off. Ignoring the bird he continued to climb. After a short time there was an almighty crash and the bird arrived, through the Perspex of his canopy and proceeded to set about the pilot, who received serious damage around his eyes. As I was told, the bird believed that the pilot was invading its airspace and decided to take him to task. The ending I heard was that the pilot managed to throttle the bird, and land safely back at the launch point. I wonder if anyone else has heard of this, I will set off on an Internet hunt now, to see if I can find any historical evidence of its veracity.

Smudge:ok:

Danny42C
18th Nov 2014, 21:31
JENKINS,

My case was at Hawarden in Summer '42. Any connection ?

D.

Petet
18th Nov 2014, 21:56
Danny

The film "Target for Tonight" can be found on the following link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDTLeFl8cXU

Regards

Pete

Danny42C
18th Nov 2014, 23:10
Smudge,

Well, I suppose if you can fight off a krait in the cockpit with a kukri, you should be able to throttle an eagle with bare hands, but they have nasty beaks and sharp talons: I would not like to try it ! :=

Do they eat well ? (swans were a centrepiece of medieval banquets).

Danny.

Pom Pax
19th Nov 2014, 04:11
nothing like a Blenheim, for Pete's sake !
Danny, my a/c recognition wasn't that cr*p. But I can find no reference to any successful raid on Moulmein in 1942 by Wellingtons. Wellingtons (No 215's) first appear operational in theatre on 23/4/42. However there are numerous references to raids by both Wellington & Liberators on Moulmein in 1943. But during the withdrawal from Burma in early '42 Moulmein was the target for several raids by Blenheims the only available bombers of a very small force in Burma. Hence my remark being a propaganda poster Wellingtons are drawn to imply air superiority. When in fact Wellingtons were only just beginning to arrive, 99 squadron seems to have taken most of '42 to get organised.
I having grown up in the centre of a circle Wyton, Mepal , Witchford, Waterbeach, Oakington, Wyton ask what was a 16 year old from up North doing playing spotter at Wyton? Was this your first yearning to be an aviator?
I reckon that circle is a polygon.

Danny42C
19th Nov 2014, 19:59
Pom Pax,

Mere crewroom banter, my dear chap, I assure you (of course you can tell a Wellington from a Blenheim ! - everybody can do that). But the problem with opening a can of worms is that there are an awful lot of worms in it. So let's start counting:

(1) Your: "..... in early '42 Moulmein was the target for several raids by Blenheims the only available bombers of a very small force in Burma....."

In early '42 I would think the only Blenheims in India (the Japs had got all Burma by then) would be those just brought out by the four squadrons (45,82,84,&110) to help stop the rot. When it seemed that the Japs had stopped for a rest on the India/Burma border anyway, they flew the Blenheims back to the M.E. with just their junior pilots (and I suppose a Nav or two to find the way).

So the rest were on the ground twiddling their thumbs when the unloved and unwanted VVs came on the scene - and the rest you know.

(2) Your: "....Wellingtons (No 215's) first appear operational in theatre on 23/4/42...."

We had no contact with the Wellingtons, and really the only thing I remember is the story of a lone Wimpey with a single 4,000 lb bomb working together with a VV squadron (82 ? - certainly not 110 RAF or 8 IAF). They must have been on the same airfield, as in the "Farewell to the VV" poem ("You always were an ugly brute/Of that there can be no dispute...etc") there are some final couplets hinting at a ground collision between the Wimpey and a VV from which the VV came off worst !

(3) Oddly enough, I'd never heard of Mepal ! (had to look it up). I suppose Tony and I settled on Wyton as it was the nearest to Huntingdon and had plenty to see. Mepal can't have been much further on.

(4) Your: "....All 16 year old boys of my time yearned to be aviators..."

Particularly did they yearn in autumn '40, after the "Few" had thrown Hitler's intended invasion of Britain out of the window. Many achieved their ambition; they got all the aviation they wanted; a little more than a half of the tens of thousands of them survived.

"A Polygon is a dead parrot" (well, many thought it was funny at the time !)

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
19th Nov 2014, 20:27
Petet,

Thanks for the link ! Ran it through again - it takes you back to those days (although I had nothing to do with Bomber Command).

Did we really look and sound like that ? (I suppose we must have done). And note the pipes ! They were almost de rigueur in those days. I started puffing them when I got to India. They made you look very grave and thoughtful - it is impossible to panic and smoke a pipe at the same time !

Gave 'em up when I retired from the RAF. They're still around somewhere, I suppose.

Danny.

Warmtoast
19th Nov 2014, 22:31
Bombers in Burma


Pom Pax's post #6460 refers to a Google Book that can be read online, this book among other things mentions US American Volunteer Group (AVG) P-40s based at Toungoo (Rangoon?) escorting Lysanders to bomb Moulmein in February 1942.


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/Image3_zps40206dff.jpg
According to an Indian Air Force historical website a Lysander could carry a 250lb bomb on the undercarriage winglets, seems a lot but that's what they say.
See here for photos of IAF Lysanders in 1941 - 43:
The Westland Lysander II - service in the Indian Air Force (Part III) - Jagan Pillarisetti [www.bharat-rakshak.com] (http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1940s/Lysander02.html)

Pom Pax
20th Nov 2014, 15:56
Danny, I enjoyed the parrot joke and can forgive your ignorance of Mepal. Mepal would have been built, operational and virtually abandoned during your sojourn in warmer climes and its second coming was probably during your period of non-residence. However I was surprised when I typed Mepal in the search function at the number of hits returned. Two which amused me occur in a thread about the Oakington let down.
Thor (http://www.pprune.org/aviation-history-nostalgia/418073-thor-missile-photos-1963-a.html#post5753114)
and the second concerns a small village where the Great Ouse burst its banks in the great floods of March '47 called Over (http://www.pprune.org/aviation-history-nostalgia/430290-raf-oakington-visual-recovery.html). This place has caused great distress to your fellow atcers.

Danny42C
20th Nov 2014, 16:19
Warmtoast.

Could be wrong, but the things tucked on to the bombracks don't look like 250 lb bombs to me (no tails, for a start). LR tanks more likely.

They did a mod on them with a twin tail and a rear 2 (4?) gun turret between. Met a chap once who'd flown 'em. Said they (the modded ones) were pigs to fly !

Can't see that they'd get much lift from those stubs, can you ?

D.

Danny42C
20th Nov 2014, 16:37
Pom Pax,

All the East and South of England was covered with airfields by the end of WWII (we were "the unsinkable aircraft carrier"). I had a Secret Document (SD 106 ?) in my safe at one time, showed them all (black spots on white paper). You couldn't see the white for the spots ! All gone back to farmland now.

Re floods, it rained in earlier years, too. As one exasperated 8th Air Force B-17 driver is reputed to have said (after the rain had drummed down non-stop on his Nissen hut for a week or two): "Why don't they just cut all the goddam balloon cables and let the place sink !"

D.

MPN11
20th Nov 2014, 16:46
danny42C ... ITSR hearing/reading that in the later stages of The War you couldn't be more than 5 miles from an airfield in E Anglia and Lincs.

I too used to have a map ... Not sure it was that classified, though!

mmitch
20th Nov 2014, 17:18
Danny, My Airfix Lysander about 60 years ago had the 'option' of 3 bombs on each winglet. They were quite small ones and do I remember that in the event of invasion they were to bomb the beaches? I have read that Churchill considered using gas....
mmitch.

DHfan
21st Nov 2014, 00:04
Danny
Only one Lysander, the first prototype, was converted with what was apparently called the Delanne wing - or tail - and the 4-gun turret. An extremely odd looking contraption with what looks like a much shortened fuselage and an extremely long span tail with twin fins. I've no idea about a pig to fly but it was said to be very stable in flight.
Westland P.12 in Google brings up many images.

I've never had any secret documents but I do have a book which says it covers all 653 (!) military airfields from WWII. I'm from Hertfordshire and now live in Derbyshire. The two counties together had only 10 airfields and I guess further west/north west would be similarly sparse which gives an idea of how crowded the southern and particularly eastern counties must have been.

Worf
21st Nov 2014, 04:20
Danny42C,

The IAF Lysanders did carry 250lb bombs.
The shackles are shown here http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1940s/Aircraft/Lysander-burma.jpg and here http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1940s/Aircraft/2Sqn-Pandit.jpg

Here are the bombs being prepped
http://www.bharat-rakshak.com/IAF/History/1940s/Aircraft/4Sqn-02.jpg

Sqn Ldr Majumdar won the DFC in Burma for attacking Japanese airfields during January-March 1942 using the 250 lb bombs. His citation is here

"MAJUMDAR, Karun Krishna, S/L (Ind 1555, Indian Air Force) - No.1 Squadron, Indian Air Force - Distinguished Flying Cross - awarded as per London Gazette dated 10 November 1942. Following text from Flight, 10 December 1942; relevant Air Ministry Bulletin probably has more.

"Early this year this officer commanded the squadron during its activities in Burma. He led two unescorted attacks on enemy airfields in Thailand and attacks in support of the army in Tennasserim; he also completed valuable reconnaissances during the retirement from Rangoon to the Prome positions."

Majumdar was very forthright about the RAF's reluctance to fight (specifically 28 Sqn with Lysanders) during that period.

Some Colonel Blimp at Air HQ passed a remark about Majumdar's DFC being "given for a retreat". Majumdar was a Wg Cdr at the time, dropped a rank and volunteered for the European theater. He flew with 268 Sqn over France and won a bar to his DFC.
"MAJUMDAR, Karun Krishna, S/L (Ind 1555, Indian Air Force) - No.268 Squadron - Bar to Distinguished Flying Cross - awarded as per London Gazette dated 23 January 1945. Public Record Office Air 2/9043 has citation drafted when he had flown 68 sorties (102 operational hours). Identical text published in Flight, 8 March 1945.

"This officer has completed many tactical reconnaissance and photographic sorties. His keenness for operational work and his skill on difficult and dangerous missions has always been outstanding. Before the advance northwards in France, he completed exceptionally valuable photographic reconnaissances of the Seine bridges, in the face of heavy ground defences. He has also participated in long tactical reconnaissances on which he was several times intercepted by superior formations of enemy aircraft. His skill and courage have always been outstanding.""

A good book to read about the Indian side of the CBI air war is "Combat Lore: Indian Air Force 1930-1945" available here Lancer Publishers Online Bookshop (http://www.lancerpublishers.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=1431&osCsid=24d29d78d4114ed8a2b5e314cf151a00)

smujsmith
21st Nov 2014, 21:02
Pom Pax,

How interesting that you should mention Mepal. My late father in law served on No 75 Squadron as Groundcrew on Stirlings there, early in WW2. He always had some great memories of the place, and particularly the Kiwi's. It was his association with the aircraft that tempted me to purchase "Stirling in action with the Airborne Forces by Dennis Williams" recently, for my Kindle. It particularly follows 190 and 620 Squadrons at Fairford later in the war, in their support of covert and invasion troops. The big bird was certainly an asset as a transport/glider tug and it strikes me that they were the forerunners of our present day SF Flights. I would recommend it to anyone with an interest in that part of the war, and it seems to be opening up some good stuff on Arnhem (Operation Market) in which they were heavily involved. I'm struggling to imagine the Lysander with the big gun turret though.

Smudge :ok: