Thought y'all might like a bit more nostalgia (hope nobody minds the named names):
ROMEO VICTOR CHARLIE
"Mirage Leader, GO LOW", says the air traffic controller in Laverton Tower. The four Mirages unload slightly, and belt across the crowd at very low level, going transonic, and, I'm later told, breaking a few windows around the base. They had been running in from the north towards the crowd at about Mach point nine (1000 kms/hour, give or take) preparatory to a horizontal bomb-burst at about 200 feet, and because the Mirage intakes generate a particular buzzing sound at a high subsonic speed, demo pilots tended in those days to push the envelope as far as they could to achieve the desired noise. Doubtless the crowd are, in the main, impressed by this low flying. Perhaps the small children aren't.
It is a warmish spring day in September, and the occasion is the Laverton Airshow, 1966, and for this show it is my pleasant duty to demonstrate the paces of the Caribou, it being then only a couple of years in service, and I am now an experienced hand in its operation having recently returned from my Vietnam dalliance. As it happens, my co-pilot is a man later to become chief of CASA. Perhaps what follows had some formative impact on his regulatory opinion!
At the time of the radio call from the tower, I am in close line astern on the ARDU Dakota at 1000 feet altitude, and heading north-east a little to the left of the Old Geelong Road, towards Hoppers Crossing railway station. This station is the nominated turning point for the "piston" formation as it waits in a holding pattern prior to the concluding formation fly-by for the show. Many people may not be aware that Runway 23 at Laverton is built on the original alignment of the Geelong Road, and before the Laverton bypass was built traffic actually went around the northern side of the air base to regain the original route. There is perhaps now an argument to reopen the old alignment given the abandonment of the airfield in recent times.
To complicate the issue, I have a box four of Winjeels from 1FTS (or was it 1BFTS in those days?) on my port wing, and another box of four Winjeels on my starboard wing. Not only does this make the immediate sky a little crowded, but above us at 1500 feet is the incomplete "jet" formation, being led by the ARDU Canberra, which has a box of four Sabres on the port wing, and a box of four Vampires astern. There is a vacant space to his starboard, where, in due course, the plan is that the four Mirage will assemble in yet another box. The Canberra pilot, too, is using Hoppers Crossing station as his turning point, and we have all been travelling aroung the largish right hand holding pattern for some time, the "jets" of course overtaking the "pistons" periodically. Down to the south of us, at Point Cook, and at 1200 feet, is the "heavy" formation which consists of a C130A Hercules with an 11 SQN Neptune in line astern. Now, the general plan is that once the Mirages are in place, and at times appropriate to our performance, the three formations will set off for Laverton such that we all arrive overhead the crowd at the same time in a thunderous finale. We will then perform a complicated stream landing except for the Winjeels (back to Point Cook) and the Vampires (direct to East Sale). As it happens, at almost the same instant as the tower controller makes his call, I notice, beyond the Dakota and on a reciprocal heading to our formation, but slightly higher, a little black dot rapidly resolving itself into a light aircraft. I warn Val Trevethan (the Dak pilot).
To get to this point I have earlier departed Point Cook where I have been temporarily parked, and I have a time on target for my demonstration. This I achieve. Now, the final part of my demonstration is a STOL (Short Take-Off and Landing technique) landing, a back-up of about 200 yards, drop the tailgate and ramps, the army drives a jeep and trailer off, and I accelerate into a STOL take-off whilst the loadmaster(s) tidy up in the rear, hopefully not losing any equipment out the back as I climb away! I am to land "grass left" beside Runway 23, and I have practised this manoeuvre the previous afternoon, and had identified a series of reference points to ensure that I was able to stop before crossing the north-south runway. This was imperative because the C130 was scheduled to release brakes after my touchdown, and he was waiting out of sight to me behind the crowd for a take-off into the north preparatory to his show.
In the event, as I am on final at about 50 knots in the STOL approach, I realise that the previous afternoon's gentle sea breeze has not come in, and I am actually under the influence of a light northerly, a quartering tailwind, which is pushing me too far to the south west. I decide that the only option is to take reverse in the air, which practice is not generally encouraged, but which was used often enough in Vietnam operations to enable the use of marginally short strips. So just before I flare for touchdown I select reverse idle, get my two blue lights, and apply maximum reverse, intending to leave it in that position until I am fairly travelling backwards. This turns out to be a wise decision, because just after I start rolling backwards the wing tip of the C130 zooms past my nose, Brian Morgan having released brakes on time while not being aware of my predicament. The rest of my show goes as planned, and so I take off and join up with the Dakota. I might add that a similar show at Edinburgh the next week-end (I was not involved) was enlivened by one of the crew falling out the back during the reverse and unload sequence, and the aircraft went off without him. Probably the crowd thought it was part of the act.
The eagle eyes of Hugh Hopkins in the ARDU Canberra pick up the bogie at the same time as me, and he offers to pop over there and identify the culprit. The tower controller says don't bother (I guess he already knows the callsign) and in any case that was a rather impractical idea, given Hughie's accompanying colleagues.
A moment later a rather timid voice is heard: "Laverton Tower, this is Romeo Victor Charlie, I'm over Bacchus Marsh heading for Ballan and Melbourne told me to call you." The tower in a rather abrupt fashion tells him to turn right on to north immediately and depart the Laverton Black zone. RVC acknowledges this order, and we all watch him turn left slightly as he follows a bend in the railway. Clearly the points had been set wrongly at North Melbourne! Hughie is obliged to divert to his left so that the light aircraft is not downed (he was at 1500 feet, the "jet" formation altitude), and RVC continues down the Geelong railway, apparently not even sighting the 19 aircraft (or 23 including the Mirages) he has so blithely flown by. Presumably he has his head down trying to reconcile the relationship between Bacchus Marsh and the Laverton Black zone.
After a certain amount of to-ing and fro-ing we finally get organised, and the fly over concludes the show. But what we didn't know at the time was that the Neptune was also getting involved in its own series of exciting events. Both reciprocating engines stopped at the same time whilst it was in line astern on the C130 at just about the time we up to the north were dealing with our intruder. This was not thought to be a good idea at 1200 feet altitude. The captain "crash-started" the underwing jets (with, I understand, somewhat damaging consequences to the turbines) and the flight engineer ultimately got the recips going again, so the Neppy was in the appropriate place during the fly-over. When asked for an explanation by SASO Support Command at the rather interesting debrief held after the show, the pilot said to the Group Captain: "W-w-well, Sir, we've put it down to carby ice." This explanation was roundly applauded by all pilots present.
We later hear that the trainee pilot from the aero club was disciplined one way or another.