Response to #10695, tail wheel a/c and fun with weather
Danny I really have nothing further to say about my York time, and in fact have already given on this thread the story of my post-Canada days up to demob in late '46. I have no further narrative as such 'in store', however I have written up various episodes in my later flying career and might consider posting some of them if the demand is there (hate being a bore). A brief sample is appended below, chronologically well out of sequence I fear but as there has been discussion recently on weather-related matters it might be of interest.
As for tail v nose wheels, if only because the latter makes any aircraft easier (and thus safer) to fly it has to be a better set-up. A nightmare with large tail draggers, especially those fitted with that dreadful differential brake system, was taxying them in strong wind conditions when a tail wind could lock the rudder hard over despite the pilots' (yes, both of them!) best efforts. If it was then locked over in the direction opposite to that which one wished to apply brake to keep straight, there was a problem!
harrym
EXCITEMENT OVER BRIZE NORTON, Feb. 1967
Passage of a cold front had been predicted for later in the evening, but so far conditions had not been too bad; good visibility beneath the 3000ft. overcast, and a light to moderate NW wind. True, I had observed some distant flashing off to the NW during the initial part of our training detail, but could not be absolutely certain about its origins; now, as we neared the Brize NDB to commence an ILS approach into Fairford, it was pretty well out of my mind on this dark April night.
I was therefore slightly surprised when we ran into a ragged cloud base on approaching the overhead, accompanied by some moderate turbulence; perhaps the front was closer than predicted? The ghostly flicker of St. Elmo's fire played across the windscreen panels, followed by occasional forking of what appeared to be miniature lightning. As these phenomena increased I suddenly noticed a ball of intense blue light, about the size of a small apple, perched on the ice detector probe just outside my direct vision panel. I was in the act of drawing the co-pilot's attention to this curious object, when there was a blinding flash accompanied by a most tremendous bang that left us all dazed and totally blinded.
For a short while I remained unsighted, and my head rang like a bell; then, very gradually, sight returned in odd reddish-blue hues similar to those seen through the spectacles issued to viewers of early, experimental 3-D films. Fortunately we had been on auto-pilot, and this continued to function as if nothing had happened; a check with the rest of the crew found them also scared witless but otherwise OK, with all systems functioning normally. A demoralised voice from the tower requested a radio check, saying they had received a lightning strike; "so have we" responded the co-pilot somewhat brusquely, thus terminating that particular conversation. I decided to land and have the aircraft checked over - surely such a massive strike must have caused some damage?
Miraculously, our VC10 was totally unharmed, not even a wick discharger burned off. Static electricity is a strange beast; I have known comparatively mild strikes cause significant damage, yet this terrifying zap had left no trace whatever. A ground observer later stated he had seen a great stab of lightning from our aircraft's nose as we passed overhead Brize; for my part, I think that we were probably victims of that mysterious, seldom seen and little understood phenomenon known as ball lightning. If so we had been especially fortunate, as it is quite unpredictable in its behaviour and capable of causing damage should the ball "explode", as it apparently had done in this instance.
We were Fairford-based at the time, Brize being closed for installation of new runway lighting.