Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II

[regle]

Back to the classroom

I had now purchased a second hand motor bike. It was called a "Bitsa"...bits of this and bits of that but it went very well. It was a hybrid of various British bikes and there were no Japanese bikes on the market in 1949. I went down to Hurn, near Bournemouth to start my six weeks A.T.C. course. I would stay the week at Hurn and then travel back to Clapham on my bike for the weekend. The course was good fun and not very difficult as the Airways system was just starting up and traffic was not heavy.
I made some good friends amongst my fellow trainees and often spoke to them twenty or so years later from the cockpit of a D.C.10 or 747 when flying over their area. One of them was an out and out Cockney and became one of the best known characters at London Airport. It was still the era of the rather stilted B.B.C. accent where "Daddy" became "Deddy" and "Nobby" as I shall call him had a no nonsense good old London twang that you could cut with a knife. Once, whilst on Taxi Control, Nobby asked a BEA aircraft that had just cleared the runway and was waiting for a Terminal stand number ,"BEA, did I give you a stand ?" Back came a very Oxford accented reply " Not with a voice like thet, Old Boy"
At last, Kookabat, I was successful in obtaining my preliminary watchkeeping certificate and was very happy to be posted to Croydon , of all places. This meant much more time with Dora and the children and I could easily get to work on my motor bike. As still, officially a "trainee" I was not allowed to stand watch on my own and this turned out to become a little goldmine as word got around the Charter companies and soon the Tower telephone was ringing with requests for me to pop over to Le Touquet or Deauville during my watch hours. The odd bottle of wine, brandy and a nice steak kept my brother controllers happy and I was always assured of a speedy ATC clearance when I came back to land. Can you imagine it happening today ?
One of the Charter companies had the sad job of bringing back from France the body of an Englishman who had died there. The aircraft was actually in the circuit when another aircraft, a Dove flown by a great Croydon character called Tommy Gunn called up and asked for an emergency landing as he had trouble with one of the engines. This I gave him and had the Fire engine and the Ambulance standing by the tiny strip of runway leading to the grass. Unfortunately the hearse awaiting the body of the Englishman was standing next to them and I saw the Dove go up about six feet in the air before touching down "Blimey, but you cover everything !" was Tommy's remark as he touched down.
I enjoyed my A.T.C. duties but the pay was abysmal and we were, as usual. struggling very hard to bring up our three children. I had always kept my Pilot's licence valid at considerable expense as all medicals and training flights had to be paid for. One day, a pilot who had just landed came up to the Control room. His name was Tom Chambers and he was the Chief Pilot to Short Bros., the aircraft constructors who ran various flying schools at Rochester in Kent.
He told me that he had a contract with the Fleet Air Arm to ferry their various fighter aircraft around the country and was looking for pilots. He offered me a job there and then which I accepted, resigned from the A.T.C. and presented myself at Rochester. There I was interviewed by their Chief Flying Instructor, Frank Holt who was very impressed with my Instructional qualifications. I held an A2 category and a Master green card for Instrument Flying from my Empire Flying School days. He offered me the much better job as an Instructor to the Fleet Air Arm pilots who came to Rochester for a three week course to get the "green card" necessary to obtain an Instrument Flight Rating (IFR) clearance which was mandatory for anyone wishing to fly around the country on the new airways system. The aircraft that we flew were Oxfords fitted with the two stage amber system that I had used so extensively with the BEA check flight at Aldermaston.
One of the great advantages of the job was that it was a Monday to Friday one, leaving me free to freelance at Croydon and even at London Airport where a firm had started "joyrides" around London. They even paid thirty five shillings an hour to their freelance pilots and charged the passengers 10 shillings each for a fifteen minute trip. I had changed my "Bitsa" for a two stroke BSA Bantam which was very reliable and very economic. The Instrument training course at Rochester included comprehensive ground school and each Flying instructor had his own subject to lecture the naval pilots who came in all ranks from the lowest to extermely high ones. My subject was Instruments and Shorts sent me to Sperry's , the instrument makers, factory in London for a week in order to get a solid background to my lectures. This was a bonus as I was able to have a nice easy run to Clapham each evening instead of the hour and a half each way trip to Rochester each day.
Our lectures took place from 9a.m. until 10. Flying started soon after until 12.15. Lunch was served in the excellent Staff Mess and was subsidised by the company. We then flew again until 1600 hr. and that was a very pleasant day. As you only lectured once a week you didn't have to report until just before 10 each day unless you were lecturing.
Rochester was a tiny grass aerodrome set in a triangle on the top of the lovely named, Bluebell Hill. The surrounding countryside is beautiful and as commuting from London became more and more of a chore, we began looking for a house nearby. Motorbikes are fine when the weather is good but I was arriving at work and coming home soaked to the skin as often as not. We eventually bought a house in the tiny village of Walderslade at the bottom of Bluebell Hill. We were so happ to move to the first house that we could really call our own. It had a huge long garden at the back where we grew vegetables to help with still rationed England and Dora was able to indulge in her dearest wish to keep chickens. They were the best fed hens in Kent if not England and the smell of chicken food cooking, instantly takes me back to Erin House, Victoria Rd. Walderslade. We had no telephone but our next door neighbour, Mrs. Foreman, had and was nice about letting us use it as I was still able to continue with the freelancing at weekends that helped so much with our finances. I had progressed from the Bantam to a little Morris Minor and we had lovely times exploring the lovely countryside and the seaside resorts of the East Kent coast.
Another of the "perks" at Rochester was the flying a Rapide around the London skies at night for "Searchlight cooperation " with the Army. It brought back rather bad memories but was a welcome addition to the family finances as , also , was the pleasant week that we passed with the RAFVR either at Redhill or even at Rochester flying Chipmunks, Tiger Moths and even the ubiquitous Rapides for which we received something like £85 a year. I remember, one day, hanging in my straps, upside down over the Thames in a Tiggy and thinking what a silly position for an old married man with three children it was to be in......but it was a nice feeling all the same !