Ah, but the proper RAF was different. One early Sunday morning at Cottesmore, in the decade known as the ‘60s, my door was being hammered, hard. It was a mate Vic, frantic as he’d overslept to catch a ‘Transport Command’ Britannia on Vulcan exercise to the Far. We ran out to the MkII Zodiac and zoomed off to dispersals.
We get onto the peri-track and, in the distance, a Brit is coming towards us for departure. Too late! Worth a try I thought; I flash the headlights and pull onto the grass. Vic jumps out and stands on the grass with pleading eyes towards the crew. Blow me! They stop, shut down 1 and 2, and call for some steps, which arrive in minutes. The door opens and closes, 1 and 2 start up, and off went Vic.
Gawd, I was impressed. Try telling that to ……………
( Cracking outfits, the ‘ 60s Brits and VC-10s. Never failed to do a first call job! )