Memoirs of a WW-II Typhoon pilot - part 10
In this instalment, Peter Brett describes the final stages of his pilot training in Canada... more soon -TOW
I have several vivid memories of flying at SFTS. The most memorable was a manoeuvre that F/O Fairbanks introduced me to, which was the 'Hammerhead Stall'. This consisted of putting the aircraft into an absolutely vertical climb, cutting the throttle, bracing the controls with the stick slightly back, and waiting! The aircraft slowed up, stopped, and then slid backwards until the elevators took effect and the front end of the aircraft whipped down (like a hammerhead), until it was pointing straight down. During the actual hammerhead movement one experienced about 2G negative! The cockpit filled with dust as all the odd things that previous users had lost whipped up from the bottom of the fuselage between the footrests!
Low flying of course was always fun and there was one particular place, between Montreal and the American border, where there was a long avenue of poplar trees. These trees were placed just the right distance apart for F/O Fairbanks to weave between them doing vertically banked alternate turns. He never let me try it but did it himself every time he decided to go and have a look at America! At least three times to my knowledge we crossed the American border, and once we landed in a field, I'm not sure if this was in Canada or America, whilst we visited his girl friend!
There were many navigation exercises, mostly triangular cross-country flights. F/O Fairbanks was rather contemptuous of these since he said that, in Quebec, all you needed to know was whether you were North or South of the St.Lawrence river. If you were anywhere else in Canada all you needed to know was if you were North or South of the Canadian Pacific railroad! In either case you couldn't get lost since all you had to do was to find either the river or the railroad and fly along it until you could either recognize somewhere or read a rail sign! Actually, he was a very good instructor and, on cross country flights, would often ask the name of some small obscure place we were passing over in order to check that I was map-reading properly.
One of the later navigation exercises was a complete instrument triangular cross-country 'under the hood'. We were given our destinations and a wind at the height we were going to fly, and had to do all the other calculations whilst flying. We started from above St.Hubert airfield and, when we had completed the triangle we had to tell the instructor when we thought we were once again over the airfield. In my case I was quite confident since I was told that there was virtually no wind and therefore my course (that I would steer) and track (over the ground) would be identical. I very carefully worked out everything such as the time to fly each leg and the airspeed to maintain. The flight was very smooth and it was very much like being in the 'Link' trainer. After the required time on each leg, when I calculated that we would be in the vicinity of the airfield again, I informed the instructor and he flipped open the hood. Where was the airfield? Things looked somewhat familiar but the airfield was nowhere to be seen!. After about half a minute the instructor said "I don't know how you did it!" and put the aircraft into a vertical bank. There was the airfield right underneath us! It must have been a pure fluke since nobody expected you to be closer than two or three miles after flying blind for over 1 1/2 hours.
Towards the end of the course there was a very big parade in Montreal in aid of the 'War Bonds' campaign. Most of the chaps were in the marching part of the parade but I was lucky in that I was selected to take part in the 'Fly past'. We were a nine plane formation of 3 x three's and were led by the Chief Flying Instructor. The Harvard was a particularly noisy aeroplane when the propellor was in fine pitch, since the tips of the blades were practically supersonic. A trick when flying in formation was to do rapid changes of pitch which gave rise to very impressive noises. The CFI flew us quite low over Montreal and round the tallest building which, at that time, was the 'Sun Life Assurance' building. As we circled the building we all decided to do the change of pitch bit. It must have been impressive since, shortly afterwards the C.O. received a bill for replacing over twenty windows which had been shattered by the noise!
I flew, and passed, my 'Wings Test' on 28th Sept 1942 but the course carried on after this for another fortnight, mostly doing bombing and formation flying. One morning I got out to the flight line when F/O Fairbanks told me to get into the rear cockpit, normally the instructors place. We did a few 'circuits and bumps' and some aerobatics and then landed. I could not think why I had been flying from the back seat but this was explained the next day when I was called into the CFI and asked if I would like to be an instructor! I find it difficult now to analyze my feelings at the time but, for better or worse, I decided against it. Had I agreed at that time to become an instructor it is certain that the whole of my life would have been different. I might even have stayed in Canada after the war and become a peacetime pilot.
The last big parade at SFTS was, of course, the Wings Parade when all the members of the course who had passed were presented with their wings. This was a public occasion and most of the Canadians had their parents present. We RAF types had to make do with our local surrogate families.
Throughout my RAF career, at least before I became an Officer, my height of six foot two and a half inches (about 1m 90cm) had one serious drawback. Since I was usually the tallest in any squad I was also the 'Right Marker' who had to march out first and take up my position for the others to form up on me. I have already mentioned the huge parade ground at St.Hubert. On the occasion of the Wings parade we were all standing at ease around the edges of this enormous area. The Station Warrant Officer marched out onto the parade ground in front of the flag staff and bellowed "Parade Marker!!!".
I had previously been briefed and shown the exact spot I was to occupy as marker so I knew where to go. It was still a very lonely feeling to have to march out across this vast open area in front of the whole of the station personnel plus the civilians visitors and the visiting VIP's. Once I had reached the correct spot I came to a smart and practically vibrating halt and the SWO then roared "Markers" and the other squad markers came marching on to form up on my left. On the command "Parade marker stand fast, markers about turn" I had to remain still whilst all the others did an about turn. The next command was "To parade intervals. Markers, quick march". All the other markers then marched away, the first one taking ten paces and then halting and turning about, and each subsequent marker taking a further ten paces and turning until all nine were spaced out. The command "Markers, Dress" then meant that the other markers had to step sideways until they were exactly behind me. The final command of "On Parade" brought the rest of the blokes marching on where they formed up on their various markers in their prearranged positions.
There was then a march-past of the whole station to the accompaniment of the station band and the parade then formed up as a hollow square with our course isolated in the centre. We were given the "Stand at ease" and were addressed by the Senior Officer who was to present us with our wings.
We knew that the officer was Air Vice Marshal Bishop but it was not until we saw him close to that we realized that his first medal, in the top row of three rows, was the Victoria Cross, the highest possible award for bravery. It clicked then that this was "Billy" Bishop the First World War Canadian fighter ace, whom most of us had read about at one time or another.
After the speech we were each called out by name and had to march out to receive our wings, which were pinned to our uniforms by the AVM. He was not a very tall chap, and he had to reach up a bit to pin mine on. He said something like "You have come a long way for these" and I replied "It was worth it, Sir".
When we were finally dismissed we all rushed back to our billets where we changed into our spare uniforms which had already been prepared with Sergeants stripes and wings sewn on. It was not until a couple of days later that those of us who had been granted commissions were told. The wings parade was on a Friday and that weekend was one long party. I remember it started in the Mount Royal Hotel where F/O Fairbanks took his three pupils, myself, Leigh Woodbridge, and 'Strawberry' Witteridge for a meal. We commenced drinking with a 'Zombie' which was a long drink containing five different kinds of rum carefully poured into layers! From then on the weekend was an alcoholic haze!
Between then and our final departure from St.Hubert, those of us who had been granted commissions were presented with our uniform allowance and told that we could have our uniforms made either before we left Canada or after arrival in U.K. Most of us naturally decided that we would like to arrive in U.K. in our officer's uniforms. This is where the Station Warrant Officer at St.Hubert was most helpful. He knew of a tailor in Montreal who would make up our uniforms quickly. Thinking back it is obvious that he was on to a good thing with the tailor and was probably on a percentage! The tailor was in a small workshop over a shop in Montreal and, innocents that we were, we were most impressed by the uniform that was on a dummy in the corner. "Just being altered for the Air Marshal!". In all fairness the uniforms were very well tailored and only took about ten days to complete and none of us, on reflection, begrudged the SWO his rake-off.
We were given a final weeks leave after St.Hubert and then had to report to No.1 R.D. (Reception Depot) at Moncton in New Brunswick on the 28th October 1942. After a few days here, we embarked for our return journey to the U.K., finally leaving Canada on the 5th November.