Meanwhile here is another snippet of Farnborough history in 2 parts as the word count is too high for one post.
Target Aircraft Development
Extract from memoirs by Geoff Taylor, an Australian Research Engineer at Farnborough 1952 - 1954.
On arrival at RAE Farnborough my work situation was immediately pleasant and interesting. I was placed in Radio Department, responsible to a senior engineer by the name of Bill Campe. It seemed in fact that I was cast in a rather similar role to that played four years earlier by my boss at Salisbury, Bob Leslie. Campe's association with pilotless ('drone') aircraft had begun in wartime with a modified Tiger Moth known as the 'Queen Bee' of which quite a few were used as targets - by the Royal Navy in particular. Campe, with Bob Leslie's assistance, had been a driving force in the development of the Jindivik radio control system, however the new task now before us was the conversion of surplus ex-Royal Navy Fairey Firefly aircraft (looking somewhat like a larger version of the well-known Spitfire), to be used as drone targets at the British rocket range in Wales.
At Farnborough, responsibility for the whole operation was divided between Radio Department, which looked after most of the ground and airborne radio control equipment as such, and Instrument and Photographic Department, (lAP) which was responsible for the flight arrangements and the autopilot installation, in collaboration with the RAE test pilots and, of course, the aircraft manufacturers.
Rather to my surprise, advantage was taken of my existing experience with Jindivik to the extent that I was made responsible to Campe for work on virtually the whole of the ground and airborne radio control chain in our new project. It must be said however that much of the basic equipment involved was of the Jindivik variety, already designed and in production in UK. Major exceptions were the main ground control unit containing the various knobs and switches, and also a large logic box called the Relay Set Receiving (RSR), which was the major airborne interface between the basic radio commands and the many functions peculiar to each type of aircraft. The simple command 'Land Glide' for example, set the plane in a shallow dive, lowered the undercarriage, set the landing flaps and reduced the airspeed to a set figure. The control logic to achieve all this in the many different commands was arranged in a box of some fifty multi-contact relays and many metres of wire - no solid-state integrated circuits in those days'.
My first job therefore was to design versions of these pieces of equipment to suit the Firefly; the autopilot adaptation already being underway in IAP Department. Again to my surprise, I found myself allocated several staff in the form of a group of specialist Royal Air Force NCOs who had joined the project with the eventual aim of forming the control team when the target service was launched. They were bright and willing helpers and we made quite rapid progress, managing to get the first Firefly fitted out ready to start its flight checks within about three months.
My work had now progressed to the point where we were running active trials with our first Firefly. It would fly (with a live pilot acting as monitor) and perform the necessary maneouvres quite well at altitude and the effort was now concentrated on developing takeoff and landing techniques. The RAE people had observed the difficulties which the Australian team were still having with Jindivik, and had decided that the Firefly would never be successfully landed without some form of automatic assistance. It was indeed a difficult aircraft to land in any case. Being a tailwheel plane it could not be flown on to the field in a level attitude but had to be made to 'squat' with a carefully timed throttle cut so it would not take off again. It bounced readily and was also difficult to keep straight after touchdown. These problems were overcome in its normal aircraft carrier environment by lowering a hook near the tail on landing to catch a cable stretched across the ship's deck.
Part 2
The IAP Department team had developed a pair of optical sights based on WW2 anti-aircraft predictors, whose function was to align the plane on the desired glidepath, sending the necessary signals automatically to keep it there until touchdown. We conducted many unsuccessful trials on Farnborough airfield, bringing other airfield activities to a standstill in the process, until eventually the exasperated airfield superintendent informed us that it would be appreciated if we took our dangerous and time wasting activities somewhere else! I and my RAF lads had by this time fitted out a three-ton van with all our necessary radio-control and communications gear, so the whole operation was more or less mobile. It was decided to move the landing trials to quieter venues, first Chilbolton and then Dunsfold, a WW2 fighter airfield in Surrey, now used mainly by private firms. These day trips into very pleasant countryside were, it must be said, a very welcome diversion from work in our rather gloomy old laboratory.
Our Firefly trials were still having mixed success, but it was felt that the team must soon move operations to their eventual destination, a little-used ex- WW2 fighter aircraft base at Llanbedr, a small village on the coast in north Wales. We were to provide targets for experimental anti-aircraft missiles launched from the firing base at Aberporth, another village some eighty kilometres south on the other side of Cardigan Bay. The Bay itself forms a great arc on the West coast of Wales, facing across the Irish sea to Ireland, only about one hundred and fifty kilometres distant. The whole arrangement was a sort of Woomera-by-the -sea, but with vastly more stringent geographical constraints, dictating that all operations had to be carried out over water.
Our team had made several inspections of the site, traveling by various strange RAE hack aircraft including a Lincoln bomber (I rode in the empty tail turret - quite a thrill) and an Avro Anson. Now however I had to think seriously about the airfield installation and do some on-site groundwork
By this time also an RAF squadron leader, one Sean Scanlon, had arrived to take up residence at Llanbedr as the formal base commandant with, inter alia, the job of carrying on the whole activity after the RAE group had finished the development phase. There had of course already been other RAF officers, test pilots based at Farnborough, closely involved with our work; notably a very pleasant squadron leader by the name of Ken Ashley. I developed tremendous respect for Ken and his colleagues; people of enormous skill who took considerable risks every day without being pretentious or overbearing about it. Ken was a gem; patient and tolerant of our mishandling of his aircraft and the frights we gave him, and always one for a joke.
Our gear was installed bit by bit. After a few days I left my part of the work in the hands of the RAF lads and returned to Farnborough to finalise activities at that end. There was yet more equipment to be transferred to Wales and this time I was able to make use of a small HilIman utility truck the section had acquired. I also wanted to show Lorna something of Wales so rather illegally took her with me - the Riley still being in Scotland with Jim and Alice.(In retrospect, the rules at RAE in those days seemed to have been pretty relaxed!) I remember that Hillman well. Amongst other deficiencies, the engine \'pinked\' dreadfully on the low-octane fuel the Ministry insisted we use. I once asked the transport supervisor why we had to use second grade petrol. \'Because there\'s no third grade petrol!\' was the growled reply.
Casual accommodation at Llanbedr consisted of the Victoria - the ancient village pub; the airmen\'s huts on the airfield, or various boarding houses. We chose the most imposing of the latter group, a four-hundred-year-old stone manor house named Cae Nest. It was our base for a month, not only for work purposes but as a centre for weekend and evening walks around the district. Among other activities, Lorna and I managed to climb Mt Snowdon on foot, a feat of which my wife in particular was quite proud.
The team was now able to continue with flight trials; the airfield installation having been duly set up - albeit in rather rough-and ready fashion. We had barely got going when it was announced that, at only a day\'s notice, we were to be honoured with an inspection by the Area Officer Commanding - the senior RAF officer for the Western region. There was an immediate flurry in the RAF ranks. Not only did our equipment still lie where we had hastily put it, but the huts themselves had not even been swept since about 1945! All work was temporarily suspended, and the entire team set about trying to tidy up our image. Wives were even called in, including my own. It must be the only occasion on record where officers\' wives have been seen trying to polish the ancient linoleum of an RAF operations office!
The Air Commodore swept in - in his own aircraft of course - and after a cursory look, swept out again. He had little to say, but I gathered that our efforts so far were deemed to be acceptable. We nonetheless still had far to go. The following week, there were failures in the signals along my plastic-covered cables; newly laid on the ground around the airfield. Amazingly, we discovered that the large colony of hares on the airfield were responsible for several gnawed segments. Even though the cable positions were still not settled, we had to hire a local contractor to plough trenches and bury them. Then there was rain - lots of it - and flights were suspended for several days.
Landing was still the main problem. Now on our \'own\' airfield, we were able to make use of cables stretched across the runway (attached to weights) to engage the aircraft deckhook and bring the plane to a halt after touchdown - as on an aircraft carrier. The difficulty of achieving an accurate touchdown point and tail-down attitude however meant that the cables were missed at least half of the time by the bouncing plane. The IAP people persevered, making this or that minor adjustment to the landing sight parameters, with Ken and the other pilots becoming rather fed up with the whole thing. Meanwhile, there were echoes of rumblings in high places in London. The Americans were doing this sort of thing as a matter of routine; why couldn\'t the RAE team?
My radio control gear as such was now working well so I returned to Farnborough (with Lorna) to address a new problem. It had been so far assumed that if hit by a missile the target would promptly crash, and there was a radio signal to make this happen if it looked like traveling any distance after being merely \'wounded\'. But what if only the radio control - perhaps a mere antenna - was destroyed, leaving the Firefly to stagger on until it ran out of fuel ? It could easily reach Ireland!
After brief consultation with various pundits at RAE, I managed to produce in very quick time an armoured steel box containing an electronic timing device which would in effect be \'wound up\' by special timed radio signals sent at short intervals on the normal control channel. if more than a few of these pulses were missed, the plane would immediately self-destruct. After many tests, it received general approval. (This was of course long before the transistor era - how much easier such design tasks would be now!)
I had now been back and forth to Llanbedr several times. The landing trials were still not totally successful but the Ministry had by now lost patience. Political considerations demanded that a British anti-aircraft missile should be seen to have downed a real aircraft. The question of whether we could land our Firefly was now secondary. The objective was to get a pilotless target down to the missile range to be shot at. With any luck, we wouldn\'t have to land it again anyway!
Crunch point came at the beginning of a cold February 1954. A missile (possibly a Bloodhound) was on the launcher at Aberporth. We had to fly tomorrow, willy nilly! There had been a light snowfall overnight, which didn\'t help, but zero hour saw our pride and joy successfully take off and head south, followed by the \'shepherd\' - another Firefly; piloted of course and fitted with emergency control gear in case our base system misbehaved.
We waited anxiously, listening for the shepherd aircraft comment. \'All seems OK. We\'re now nearly within range. Aberporth has control. They\'ve fired! And missed. Target turning north. Control back to you.\' Oh dear! Anxious faces looked at one another. We in the radio control room couldn\'t see the expressions of the RAF boys manning the landing sights, but we could imagine what they felt. The two planes finally appeared. Sean in the little control tower turned the target successfully on to the runway heading but it was seen that the arrester hook had not come down properly. Another try, round again. This time for some unknown reason the hook emerged, and the final approach began.
The lads no doubt did their best, but true to form, the Firefly touched heavily and bounced right over the cables laid across the runway careering blindly onward. The engine had cut, but we had no brake control other than the cables. Providence nonetheless was with us, in the form of the inch or two of snow still on the runway. An uncontrolled aircraft of this type in such circumstances tends to ground loop and the Firefly promptly obliged. Due to the snow however, the plane stayed on all three wheels, eventually ending up sliding gently into a snowbank at the end of the runway, quite undamaged.
The whole team wasted no time in hastening up to the village pub to celebrate. Our flight that day was supposed to be secret but the airfield activities were plainly visible from the village, and Welsh villages being what they are, the publican greeted us at the door with a loud \'Congratulations!\' We duly celebrated, along with most of the pub regulars.