Danny Takes to the Skies - again !
There was about a two-months gap between my arrival in GK and bringing my family over to Heerlen. GK was fairly relaxed over the weekends; they ran a popular gliding club. Many of the members were naturally squadron crews (a nav was towed off one Sunday morning for a Silver "C"; the next thing we heard of him was that he was down somewhere south of Toulouse, a distance record which stood for many years). I had no particular ambition to go gliding (after all, it's just more flying, with a forced landing after any trip away from base - and you're not even getting paid for it !).
Nevertheless it seemed a harmless occupation and I decided to try it. My instructor was W/Cdr Crowshaw, the C.O. of 3 Squadron. We started on the dual "K.2", rather a handsome thing as I remember, and ran through through the approved syllabus. Like most powered pilots (I imagine), I was horrified by the attitude during a winch launch - even worse than a Meteor in the climb - and pushed the stick forward right heartily when he cut loose ! After a few winches-and-bumps (including the obligatory line-break exercise), I was put in the queue for one of the Club's Grunau "Babies", and in due course came to the top.
Sometime ago I've told the tale of my first solo, but I got round well enough. However, they'd told me to turn in on the end of the downwind leg at 400 ft, and this I dutifully did. But they had not told me to keep tapping the ASI on the way round: it seemed that, in the absence of engine vibration, that elderly instrument tended to stick. I'd been instructed to extend the airbrakes on finals to kill off excessive height ("reverse-throttle", Smudge !), but looking over the side what I saw made that seem unwise - whatever else I'd got, it wasn't excessive height !
To cut a short story long, I kept the brakes in and tightened up a bit, but even so I just managed to scrape in, coming to rest exactly abeam the official timekeeper's trestle. This saved people having to push me back, and of course left it in the ideal spot for the next chap to climb in and the wire to be hooked-up. But that wasn't exactly the idea, of course.
I did a few more circuits in the "Baby", and a dual ot two in the "K.2" to find thermals around the field (and land back). But I got no further than that, for as soon as my family rejoined me, I would be off the Station when not on duty, and far too busy anyway. But it had been very interesting.
However, while I was there, the Club members naturally had to muck-in with all the humbler duties: pushing gliders in and out of the hangar, dragging the wire back after each launch with a Landrover they'd got, and of course working the winch. And this was a home-made contraption of which Heath Robinson would have been justly proud.
They'd got hold of a cheap old open-bodied Opel "Kapitan", and cut off all the bodywork, leaving only the driver's seat. Then they took off the drive shaft, leaving only the wheels and back axle. Lastly they fitted a cable drum back onto the gearbox in place of the shaft (all this perilously close under your toes) - where was "Elf'n'Pastry" when we needed you ? Of course the sorry remains of a powerful old car could no longer move: the Club Landrover (not RAF) hauled it about.
After brief instruction and a dual session, I took my turn on the winch. It was dragged into place head-on to the gliders, and anchored securely. The wire was pulled back off the winch (gearbox in neutral) and down to the gliders. I'm a bit hazy about the signals, but I think that when they levelled the wings, it was "Take up Slack" (I engaged top at tick-over, and watched the cable come taut, then pushed clutch out and held it). And when they waggled them it was "All Out": I let the clutch in and floored the accelerator.
I think the "Kappy" had the GMC three-litre six which had gone into all sorts of war vehicles, and there was much life in this old dog yet. There was a tremendous roar, the glider rose off into the air and you watched the line like a hawk for the next few seconds, lifting off only when the glider released, but leaving the engine ticking with clutch in till the cable drogue hit the ground (to avoid tangles), then back to neutral.
The cooling system had got a bit bunged-up over the years (as they do), so we left the radiator cap off: at the end of each winch I'd be garlanded in steam for a half a minute until it went "off the boil". And we always kept a bucket of water for top-up. The L/R would come flying out, hook-up the cable end and reel it back for the next customer.
One question did exercise our minds: what protection did you have if a cable snapped ? Damn-all, seemed to be the answer. There was only the screen. Get down smartly under the dash, keep the cable drum going to shorten, as far as possible, the broken end which was coming at you. Fortunately, it never happened !
Cheers, everybody,
Danny42C.
Gravity never lets up !
Last edited by Danny42C; 29th Oct 2013 at 17:27.
Reason: Typo.