Danny gets back in a cockpit again (at last !)
The accident rate rose alarmingly, to the point when public opinion became aroused. It is one thing to lose your young men in war, but seeing them killed wholesale in flying accidents in peace is quite another. The RAF had to start giving some thought to Flight Safety, a concept which hitherto had been regarded as an oxymoron. Flying was dangerous, people got killed doing it, "as any fule kno" (pace Adrian Mole).
It was bad enough in my day, and got worse. I have just read some figures for Meteor accidents in the early '50s - (total 890, with 434 pilots and 10 navs killed, they must have been on the NF11s). Apparently that was the worst post-war period. But as late as '53, 608 Sqn got a National Service P/O who had been trained on Oxfords at Dalcross, so it was still going on then.
Driffield used nearby Carnaby as its RLG. Carnaby was one of a small number of special "emergency" airfields which had been built during the war to provide for bombers returning with severe damage to aircraft or crew. IIRC, the runway was 9,000 ft long and 300 ft wide (double the width and a half as long again as the usual RAF runway in those days) in order to give a shot-up aircraft a better chance of a safe landing.
But there was no permanent staff there now, of course; housing was scarce everywhere; a large colony of squatters had appropriated most of the vacant RAF accommodation. The RAF tolerated this; water, power (metered, of course) and sewage services were kept on. But we did think it a bit rich when we started getting complaints from the squatters about aircraft noise !
John Henderson, ex-war pilot (he who had inveigled the Air House into buying enough spares to keep Ansons flying for all time), who had often crossed my path when later in ATC (I think we were together at Linton) and in retirement was for some time SATCO at Teeside airport, tells a good story:
It was the end of the day, Carnaby was pestering Driffield for permission to close. But Driffield still had one solo stude up at height; both places had to stay open till he got down. The line was still open between the two Controllers when in the background came the mounting scream of an aircraft coming down very fast, followed by a dull "crump". "That's it", said Driffield, "you can pack up now !"
My first ride in the Meteor was a revelation. This was simply a different order of aviation from anything my previous experience had prepared me for. For the first time I could see where I was going on the ground - this was luxury indeed. Up to now, taxying had been a matter of peeking around a big nose, like an engine driver in his cab, getting mouthfuls of hot, acrid exhaust fumes, and having to zig-zag to make sure the way ahead was clear. Now it was like driving a car. The soft u/c suspension rode the concrete joints in the taxyway like a Rolls-Royce. There was no vibration and the engine noise was smooth and muted. It was like a magically driven glider. This was the way to go flying !
Engine handling (after you'd got the fire going, the trickiest part of the job with the early jet engines) was simplicity itself - just a throttle (all right, "thrust lever"), open or shut. (The old piston engines had four knobs each to juggle with, which adds up a bit if you have four of them - or so the old four-in-hand drivers tell me).
One thing about it I heartily disliked. The Mk. 7 canopy did not open fore-and-aft, but was hinged on the side and swung over you with a clang of deathly finality to lock into position (the Me 109 was the same). And it wasn't a perspex bubble, but a sort of greenhouse with small panels in a metal frame.
It induced a strong feeling of claustrophobia (in me, anyway), although you could jettison it (with a big black/yellow "T"-handle in the cockpit) if you had to. I would have much preferred a single all-in-one plastic canopy like the ones in the Mks. 4 and 8 fighter versions. And these allowed the fighter cockpits to be pressurised (which we were not). This also allowed the fitting of ejection seats in these Marks; I suppose a seat could smash through a plastic bubble if the jettison failed, but our metal cage was of sterner stuff - it would shred us to ribbons on the way out.
(Enough for the time being; we get airborne next time).
Goodnight, chaps,
Danny42C.
Nearly there now.