thing, good stuff, and I can add a few bits.
Arthur Vine's son used to fly Shacks at the same time, and I understand that it was a tad embarrasing for him to tell people, when asked what his dad did, that his father flew fighters!
Midi Hopper (nav) had a terrific scheme for avoiding FOD in the cockpit: he tied his pencils, protractors, rubbers, etc to bits of string which he taped to his helmet a la Oz cork hat. Looked amazing but not sure how well it worked.
Bob Prest's book, fun though it was, didn't go down very well with the navs, who get about 2 mentions in all. Good pilot, though. My dad employed and then sacked his brother, who then tried to sue for wrongful dismissal and lost.
The Phantom could easily go supersonic with the gun pod on, and with lots of other things on too.
Was your SATCO's first name I**? If so, he was a really good egg and air trafficker. I have often wondered where he ended up.
The Queen and Prince Phillip were at Coningsby in '76 to review 56's standard as the Squadron was reforming. After the parade Prince Phillip went to 41 Sqn first, where he wanted to change into his second No 1 jacket, it being more comfortable than the parade one. Unfortunately his aide had left that jacket on the aircraft so, while he sprinted off to get it, Phillip was chatting happily to the crews and twanging his braces. Later, in the OM (and you had to pay for the priviledge of dining with HM) we were all gathered up in the dining room and the sliding doors to No 2 Ante Room were opened to reveal the Royal Party about to enter. As they approached the dining room, HRH spotted a medal of some sort on someone's chest and shot off at a tangent to inspect it. HM huffed and said in irritation, 'Now where has that man gone?' They were both brilliant, by the way, spending quite a bit of time chatting to us spread over 2 ante rooms.
This reminds me of Princess Margaret's visit to Bruggen the year before. (Stop me if I have posted this before but I can't be bothered to look.) After the parade and aircraft and installations inspections, we repaired to the OM for drinks and lunch. (Did you know you had to pay for the priviledge of dining with HRH - 3 times in this case to include 2 practice lunches?) So there we were with our warm G&Ts and horse's necks (without ice as that was reserved for the wheels) waiting for the Big Entrance. The chief steward was also waiting, behind the scenes with a selection of spirits in crystal glasses with plenty of ice but the mixers still in the bottles to maximise the fizz - and, of course, the obligatory Chesterfield 100s (specially ordered, min NAAFI order 5000, apparently). Anyway, the Royal Party approached the bar door at which point the mixer bottles were opened, but one exploded all over the tray. Frantic cleaning up began as the Staish - unaware of this ghastly turn of events - turned to HRH and asked if she would care for a drink whilst gently waving in the direction of where the chief steward was supposed to be standing with his tray of chilled apertitifs. Shock, horror, there was nobody there, and a deathly silence descended on the room. Fortunately one of the stewards serving us was sharp enough to spot the CO's dilemma and flew across the room with his tray of warm drinks almost vertical, slopping all over the place. So the day was sort of saved but HRH was stuck with a warm, 45 minute old G&T with no ice until the pukka version arrived some time later. We didn't dare laugh - well, you remember who the Staish was, don't you?
