I was looking back at some of the very old threads and come across this classic from the '
OK IT'S APOCRYPHAL STORY TIME' started back in Sept 2000
.
I know it might be considered bad form to repost but wanted to show this to remind some of the newer PPruners on here it is well worth looking back at some of the old posts, as there are some classics in there.
Anyose here is the dit, posted by a PPruner called Wiley.
Now I swear this one is true, or fair dinkum as we say in the Antipodes… (But aren’t they all?)
Mid fifties, when the RAAF used the Wirraway, (the Aussie version of the Harvard) as their primary trainer - which was a bit like taking your initial driving lessons in a Mack truck.
Cadet Bloggs was ready for his first solo and his instructor was, shall we say, just a little overweight.
They taxi back to the threshold, Sir unstraps and climbs, not without difficulty, up into the ‘Pie Cart’, (the mobile tower positioned at the threshold when massed first solos were on the programme).
Bloggs approached for his first solo landing, a touch and go. However, on the ‘go’ part of the T&G, he ground looped.
Now there are ground loops and there are ground loops. This one was a doozey. The aircraft’s wing tip dug into the ground, the tail rose and the aircraft rolled sideways, completely destroying the wings, propeller, and tail. With bits of airframe flying in all directions and the whole scene swathed in a growing pall of dust, Sir leapt from the Pie Cart, and with his bum pack parachute banging against his buttocks, sprinted - for the first time in at least ten years - to where the remains of the aircraft were finally coming to rest.
On arriving, he was confronted by a very battered fuselage becoming visible as the dust settled. Inside the shattered cockpit sat Bloggs - completely unscathed. Fearful of fire, Sir extricated him from the cockpit and led him away from the aircraft.
Adrenaline fast draining, Sir’s body at last got the message through to his brain that three-minute miles were a bit beyond it, thank you very much. He promptly collapsed exhausted upon the ground beside his rather bemused student.
At this moment, the Fire Engines and Ambulance screeched to a halt beside the two pilots, and taking in the scene in a moment - the injured pilot lying on the ground, pulled from the wreckage by his heroic colleague seen running to the rescue - the Medicos went into their act. As they lifted the still panting instructor onto a stretcher, he went into a creditable outboard motor impersonation (“But, but, but...!” .
However, knowing the dangers of shock, the doctor injected him with a sedative, sending the already exhausted body quickly into a narcotic sleep.
Cadet Bloggs meanwhile was left standing among the chaos of fire hoses, foam, and disappointed Firemen. (Disappointed? I hear you say - the aircraft hadn’t caught fire.)
As the crowd gathered, the CFI joined the throng. Espying Cdt Bloggs, he realised that if the kid was given any time to think about what had happened, he’d almost certainly baulk at ever getting into an aeroplane again. After ensuring that he was unharmed, the CFI got him into another aircraft immediately, took him up for a circuit, was happy with what he saw, and sent him solo - again.
Most people on the base that day agreed that the events of the day were a little extraordinary. After standdown that day, all retired to the bar where Cdt Bloggs was plied with many congratulatory drinks by all. After all, it’s not often a young man goes solo, totally writes off an aeroplane, and goes solo a second time, and all in under two hours!
By around 9 pm, the instructor had at last recovered from the well-meaning attention of the Base Medical Section, and been able to convince them that they had the wrong body in their hospital. It was SOP to keep an accident victim in hospital overnight for observation. Consequently, at 9 pm, the doors of the Mess bar swung open as two stretcher-bearing medical orderlies trotted into the bar, grasped the by now very rubber-legged Cdt Bloggs, lay him upon it, and took him off to the Sick Bay for the night.
Another good one is '
What were you doing?'