The memoirs of Sqn Ldr Rupert Parkhouse, recorded in 1995 – Part 5
The first post in this series is #9775 on page 489 of this thread.
My flight commander in those days was called Garth Slater, later a wing commander. He was a very nice chap and I think without his help I might not have made the course. Looking back to July 1939 I had also landed downwind in the Tutor, I opened up again and roared over the hangars about 50ft above them. I remember looking down and seeing Flt Lt Sweeney, the RAF 100yd champion, looking up at me in horror. I have a feeling that I tried two attempts before realising I was downwind, and feeling very disconsolate as I taxied in.
After being torn off a major strip by Dermot Boyle I went to the crew room with my tail between my legs and Garth Slater said there had been a train derailment near Grantham, would I take him there for a look at it? So we flew there in the Tutor and saw the derailed trucks, and I've always thought what a kind gesture that was. I wrote to him later when I was training on Fairey Battles at Benson and he replied telling me what had been going on since I left. Unfortunately he was killed flying from Biggin Hill in 1942.
One of the great joys was flying with one's fellow cadets in the back seat and getting permission to enter the low flying area south of Cranwell, that was really a great thrill. There was a chap called Cholmondley from Rhodesia who hit wires and I went to see him in Cranwell Hospital. There was talk that he might not get his commission, but he must have got back into the swim as after the war I saw his name on the Battle of Britain memorial.
At the beginning of December we started night flying with four paraffin glim lamps in line and two more across the end to form the Tee, with a Chance floodlight on the area where we were supposed to put the aircraft down. I found it very exciting flying in the dark without the standard panel of instruments and I went solo after about three hours' dual. I did three solo circuits and I remember feeling immensely relieved but quite proud afterwards.
I went back to the Mess and was getting into bed when I heard a tremendous thump and immediately thought that someone had gone in. It was Flight Cadet Warren Smith, with whom I had shared a room in my first term, and that was a bit of a shaker. Next day we went out to see the wreckage, rather ghoulishly, and I remember the terrible smell of burnt metal.
We got over it fairly quickly, there was no counselling and in fact this modern craze for counselling strikes me as an undermining of morale because when things like this happen you have to get over it yourself, you have to sort out your fears and just go on.
NEXT POST: Mixed feelings and guffaws as Rupert is posted onto Fairey Battles: "people thought the indifferent pilots were going onto Battles where if they had a crash they wouldn't kill too many as well as themselves".