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

[Danny42C]

Danny does his Good Deed of the Day (Night !)

Now what is this Cold War warrior doing in return for the vast sums being devoted to his upkeep by the long suffering taxpayer ? Oddly enough, quite a bit as it happened. And it happened like this:

In my 17 years as an air-trafficker, 3 were spent at the School (Shawbury). The other 14 were all at the "coalface" - half as Approach, half Talkdown. So say, 7 years T/Down, off and on. In that time it is hard to guess, but I cannot have done less than 1,000 runs. Again at a guess, say 80% were clear weather (under the hood) training runs.

Of the remaining 20%, nearly all would be "live" (in the sense that they could not have got down where and when they wanted without my assistance). But no "Life or Death" was involved: they would have the fuel to get to a better place if they missed-approach with me. And then there is a last, tiny number where that did not apply.

It was quite early in my time at GK, for we had not got into an OMQ there yet. At 0200 on a miserable night, I was on watch in the CPN-4; a Warm Front was coming through, and this one was a typical example: low cloudbase still coming down, drizzle and mist below and poor visibility. You would not put a dog out on a night like this.

A NATO exercise was winding-down. We'd recovered all ours, but were still standing by as named diversion for Laarbruch (Lord knows why; they would have to overfly Brüggen and Wildenrath to get to us - I suppose both were stood-down that night). Laarbruch had their last pair airborne: (Mission ## Alpha and Bravo), almost in circuit. Ten minutes more, and we can all wrap-up. The radar mechs stood around impatiently, waiting for the word from me. Then it all went pear-shaped.

I don't know exactly what happened. "Alpha" touched down, a tyre blew, or a wheel broke (as Chugalug knows, this can happen), a leg collapsed or got torn off. And a Canberra was left reclining gracefully on one elbow in the middle of Laarbruch runway (no casualty). It would take a half-hour at least to get it off. And "Bravo" had twenty minuits' fuel and no runway.

My Approach box squawked. Approach gave me the story in a couple of terse sentences, and a QTE. I put a strobe on it and there was "Bravo", plodding steadily towards me. "I have him at 39 miles", I said, "put him across to me - leave the box open - let's have some fresh Met". You didn't need to be Einstein to do the sum, this one was going to be close.

He came up on frequency, we exchanged the ususal courtesies, then I launched into my patter: "GCA minimums * (sic) are 200 ft", I said, "but I understand that that is academic ?" "Yes", he said, "it is". So the chips were down, it would be a one-shot operation.

* (Old Classics Master goes up to 101% rpm in the grave).

I was quietly confident. Pilots come (from my standpoint) as Squadron pilots or Bloggs, and I'd had plenty of both. Bloggs is hard work (after all, the lad's got to learn, this is what it's all about, everybody has to start sometime ) as he wanders all over your tube like a drunken spider. But the Squadron pilot knows his stuff. He will do exactly as told straightaway: he is a pleasure to deal with. And I had one such now.

Approach waited for a pause, and gave me: "400 ft base and 800 yds, light and variable", which I passed on to my man. And now I think I may have got it wrong when I told you a while back that the GK Truck was aligned on 27, for I suddenly seem to have a powerful recollection of his passing me in an easterly direction on the runway, and turning right onto the south taxiway to get to the apron. For of course the "run" went perfectly.

Thanks", he said. "Don't mention it", said I, "Call local on ###decimal#, Goodnight". "Any more ?" I asked Approach. "No, that's it". "Run-down" I told the mechs.

Fast-forward half an hour. Now the scene changes: in the darkened dining hall of the Mess, all the tables are laid for breakfast, but in one better lit corner four people are tucking into their bacon & eggs - the night-flying supper - in companionable silence. On one side sit the two "young tigers" - the Canberra pilot and his nav. Facing them are the two "old hairies" - (for Approach was a wartime nav). I thought of the pleasing symmetry of the picture: the table was divided by almost a generation of time and experience, but "it was a like task we were at". Between us, the RAF still had a Canberra and two young men were still hale and hearty.

It wasn't a bad night's work. They would stay the night in rooms in the Mess (always kept ready), then take the refuelled Canberra back to Laarbruch in the morning. I had my own room (for I would be on duty till 0800), then I'd take the road home for Heerlen or Cologne.

I want to pick up my point about CPN-4 alignment. Two of the four "Clutch" airfields were 09/27, the others 10/28. Almost certainly all would have CPN-4s aligned alike - but how ? There must be plenty of ex-RAF(G) people out there. Anyone ?

Evenin', folks,

Danny42C.


You can't lose 'em all !