Peace at last, soaring high in the silent heavens
I WALKED past those beautiful aircraft again and again, until I could resist them no longer. I picked one of the graceful sailplanes, and a friend towed me high into that calm and peaceful German summer sky. I cast off the tow and looked around for the airfield but I did not need to worry, for I wasn't going anywhere in a hurry. I seemed to hang motionless in the air.
I moved the stick forward and back, and my beautiful bird answered the command with flawless sensitivity. I gently touched the rudder, again the sweet acceptance of my merest suggestion. It was a fantasy in which I had limitless time to do everything I needed, as the response was definite but languid. I pulled back on the big wooden knob situated where a powered aircraft had a throttle, the airbrakes slid out from the wings and she slowed, seeming to stop. I moved it forwards and she gently advanced. It fascinated me, and the silence was in glorious contrast to the thunderous Sabre.
This was an aerial wonderland. I played with the glider like a child with a toy. I pulled the nose up and stalled, the soft hiss of the slipstream died away, and she gently dropped forward and glided again. I floated on and out over the Luneburg Heath, I encountered an updraught and like a glorious albatross she soared effortlessly for a hundred feet or more. Time passed in complete contentment as my altitude slowly decreased. In comfort I headed back to the airfield and made my approach. With plenty of height over the perimeter track, it was easy to coax her to a landing close to our takeoff point. I felt that I had truly experienced the freedom of the skies.
We were all caught up in the gliding craze. We taught many of the ground staff to fly and I don't know how many blissful hours I spent in the cockpits of those sailplanes, or the many hours flying the tug aircraft. Occasionally I flew up to Denmark where 486 Sqn, my old unit, was based. It was good to meet up with my fellow New Zealanders. For these trips I used another German acquisition, an Me108 four-seater, an exceptional little aircraft which I really loved to fly.
Some weeks later our squadron was posted to Denmark and to be honest, who would want to stay in the dark, unfriendly atmosphere of shattered Germany when the sun, the food and the social welcome of Denmark beckoned? It was, however, the end of the glider enlightenment, it was back to the mighty Tempest with all the attendant excitement of its great performance. The exhilaration of aerobatics, the violence and physical effort of our practice dogfights, were as competitive as ever but unlike real combat a mistake did not cost you your life.
Our attitudes were once again dominated by the demands of military flying, but for the rest of my life I would never forget the happy and peaceful hours I spent in those gliders.