Danny has an Unpleasant Vision of the Future.
We each had two or three "familiarisation" trips in this aircraft - although all the actual trials flying was, of course, done by the Captain. The last of us to try his hand was W/Cdr. Edmondes. I was a bit nervous about this, but as he was getting around in his Harvard well enough and had flown the VVs from time to time - he should be all right. Even so, a small crowd of us gathered to watch.
He went smoothly off the cliff edge - and vanished ! Cardiac arrests all round for a long second - and then he reappeared, climbing away. Some swore they'd seen spray blowing off his wheels (I think I'd closed my eyes !). He took it round for twenty minutes or so and came in perfectly. Nothing was said. But my blood ran cold, as a dreadful vision loomed up in my imagination. I was in the hot seat at a Court Martial.
The aircraft was my responsibility, not the Wingco's, I'd signed the Authorisation Book; the full weight of the RAF's wrath would have descended on me. I could hear the Prosecuting Officer: "What on earth were you thinking about, Flight Lieutenant, to treat this valuable aircraft as a plaything ? - and so losing it, and the life of a senior officer into the bargain ?" I wouldn't have had a leg to stand on. There were to be no more joy-rides.
As for the Mossie, the rest of us had to be content with passenger rides in the navigator's seat. IIRC, there were no dual controls, so we couldn't even get the feel of the thing. The performance was a revelation, but our vet was keen on demonstrating the s/e capability and feathered one each time to show us. The sight of an airscrew stationary or slowly windmilling did not make me particularly happy; it was a case of: "Yes, yes - very nice, I'm sure - now please get the damn' thing running again!"
My impression of the cockpit was that space was very tight. The nav's seat was set back a bit as there wasn't room for a shoulder-to-shoulder fit, how he did his work I can't think. I hope the canopy came off easily in emergency, for I wouldn't fancy my chances of getting out of the little cabin hatch down by my feet. (As I would have to get out first, I would reckon my skipper's chances even less). But you really need a Mossie man to explain how it all worked.
One of my rides was a little too exciting for comfort. Half way down the runway on take-off, at full power, the auto boost limiter on the No. 2 failed. The sudden surge of extra power on that side swung the nose hard left just as we were leaving the ground, and although the vet pulled the offending engine back at once, we were left heading for the Fort, now far too close to dodge. It looked as if my short and not particularly glorious career was about to come to an abrupt end.
But the vet hauled back on the yoke, the Mossie gathered up its skirts and wet-henned over the top with inches to spare. As I've often said, in aviation a miss is always as good as a mile. I should perhaps say that the "Fort" was not one of these tall things with turrets and battlements, but a low affair perhaps two or three stories high and a wide level top - really a gun platform to cover Moplah Bay and defend the settlement against any seaborne invasion from any other European colonial powers.
For my own benefit as well as that of any readers, I've just had a look at my log to make some sense of the nine months between the Bomb and my return to the UK. Month by month, it went like this: We came back to Cannanore in August about the time of the surrender. The rest of the month and the whole of September seemed to have been spent in a state of shock, all my flying was "admin". October, the CDRE must have received their "Carry On" clearance, we were busy back on the job again all that month and all November, and I was busy for the first half of December.
It was at the end of November and the first few days of December that the T/Bolt entries appear, so that was the start of the time our two "visitors" were with us. On 5th Dec an ominous entry: "Search for Harvard FE965" - (story to be told soon).
From Dec 13 to the end of January '46 I disappear. Where was I ? - scrabbling up and slithering down a Himalayan mountainside (colloquially known as "skiing") - another story on the stocks. While I was away, our Boer performed his super-"greaser" on little more than the inner tube on one wheel and earned his Green Endorsement (tale already told).
We were also honoured by a visit by General Auchinlech, the Army Commander-in-Chief, India, who flew in in his Dakota to do some big (?) game hunting in the inland forests. No doubt the Army component of CDRE did him proud with a Guard of Honour and all the trimmings (I hope my chaps kept out of sight !). Christmas ? - what Christmas ? February, busy again, but at the end we are dumping gas stocks. March 12 - it was all over bar the shouting - but there would be plenty of that.
However, I still have a fund of stories of these and earlier times out there which may yet be worth telling, so bear with me for a while yet, chaps.
Past my bedtime again, I fear,
Goodnight, friends,
Danny42C.
You won't feel a thing !
Last edited by Danny42C; 18th Oct 2012 at 00:11.
Reason: Reset Spacing.