Did You Fly The Vulcan?? (Merged)

[Samuel]

What a truly awsome thread this is!

I arrived at Cottesmore on November 1960, from Eastleigh, of all places, and what a different air force it was! From a holiday camp to a Real Air Force.[ I was an SAC Fireman at that time, the exalted rank of Sqn Ldr came later!].

Security badges, Special Storage Areas, escorting one of the contents of which down to one of either 10 or 15 Squadron's Victor 1A's, noting that one of those weapons had a "Ban the Bomb" sticker on it, vowing never to be beaten to the aircraft by the crew on a Mickey Finn, the Heath Robinson method of loading the bombs onto a Victor by means of a cherry-picker, receiving a visit from the CO of the Victor B2 trials squadron of four aircraft, 'just to say Hello', [a rare event I might add!], the universal relief at seeing all five crew got out of the Victor that ran out of fuel on approach, the sadness at losing all five in the other in Cyprus, having regular chats with the CO, one Johnnie Johnson, who had a habit of sneaking in to his office via a Crash Gate, so that the Snowdrops couldn't report his arrival, getting absolutely, totally lost on the airfield in a snowstorm, doing a gentle 360 on ice past the Tower , but still recovering to make the turn into the Crash Bay and seeing the Tower staff all applauding! The Sun Inn in Cottesmore Village.

Great stuff! Keep it up!

[forget]

Samuel, The Sun Inn, Cottesmore! I still cringe with embarrassment. 67’ish. 9 o’clockish. For some reason Corporal Tech forget (RAF Retd) is having a pint with the WingCo Tech. Nice chap. He confides in me that it’s the Groupie’s birthday and he’ll have to leave soon for a surprise party at the ‘Mansion’. Shortly after, he does so. Down the social drinking scale I slide, and back to the ‘lads’ - they who fixed the flying machines which protected the nation against the Red Hordes, all suited and tied lest we bump into a raiding party of Corby Commandos. ‘What shall we do now?’, someone asks. ‘Fancy a birthday party?’ says I. Unanimous. We need some bottles. Bottles arrive, paid for. Into the Mkll Zodiac. ‘Where’s the party then?’ as we pass through the main gates. ‘Secret’, says I.

Mansion looms closer. ‘You are ------- joking!’, from the back seat.

Around the gravel drive we go and up to the front door. Ring the bell. Answered by flunky. ‘May we speak with Group Captain G….., we from Line Squadron bring best wishes for his birthday celebrations’.

Group Captain and Mrs G….. arrive at the door and a case of Ruddle’s Best is offered. Only one remark from the ‘lads’ sticks in my mind, ‘Hello Groupie, I’m Spike Mardell. Happy Birthday’.

Cool didn’t come into it, these two people were what we from the Norf of England used to call ’classy’. Full marks Mrs G……! ‘Come in gentlemen, you are all most welcome’.

Into the enormous lounge we went, Mrs G…. cradling the case of Ruddle’s Best. The place is packed with very, very, senior people, including the WingCo Tech, looking oddly in my direction.

Oh God…….. Did I really do that? It was a great night, but I do remember lying in bed early next morning mulling over whether to go to work, or head for the nearest docks. Full marks to everyone; it was never, ever, mentioned again.

If you’re still around, Group Captain and Mrs G…… (RAF Retd), next ones on me.

[Brain Potter]

A few years ago I heard a story of the famous JE "Johnnie" Johnson whilst CO of Cottesmore during the V-Force era.

A group of airmen had been caught by the Snowdrops running a card school in one of the barrack blocks. They were eventually wheeled in front of JEJ for dispensation of punishment.

Johnnie, liking a bit of a gamble himself, tells these fellas to number off, left-to-right, 1 to 20ish. They all look a bit puzzled, but follow orders.

He then says "Even numbers dismissed. Odd numbers - a week of jankers"

Probably apocryphal, but I liked the story.

[Hit'emwiththeWagner]

SAMUEL

Hi Pa, I was wondering if you'd seen this thread!

[Samuel]

Bloody hell Forget! I stand in awe! We pulled a few stunts, but never like that. I actually got into the Officer's Mess at Cottesmore, but it was in 1989 on a UK vist and it was legal! It was also full of Germans and Italians! Those oil painting of the Victors that used to be in SHQ are hanging there, in the ante room.

I believe at that time that CO's of Stations used to fly, and Johnnie Johnson certainly did. I saw a Victor do a 'buzz and break' one day, and recall the tower saying it was the CO! He certainly flew the Station Anson. It never happened to me, but I gather he used to throw 'grouse beater' parties for the lineys who had been doing the beating, somewhere around Melton Mowbray. He seemed an affable type, he was replaced [1961-2?] by a Gp Captain Martin, whom he introduced on the handover., with the comment, "these chaps will look after you".

I actually met JEJ again, at the Wanaka Air Show in New Zealand about four or five years ago, and reminded him we had met before.

The best memory of all of course is the totally awe-inspiring sight of a scramble of four Victors. The seemingly continuous roar of take-off power from 16 engines was absolutely unforgettable. I was always very secretly pleased that those crews never had to do it for real. Even we knew they weren't coming back!

[Blacksheep]

High Flying Haggis...

Does anyone know if Ginge Knight's world altitude bagpiping record still stands? Ginge was an AEO at Waddington around 1967 [44(R) I think?] who played in the Pipes and Drums of No.1 Group Bomber Command. Our main claim to fame was our capacity for alcohol rather than any proficiency at scaring English soldiers back down south, but Ginge took Scotland's answer to Yellow Sun up for a trip. At some point in the flight he got a confirmation of aircraft altitude from a radar station then told them to "listen to this then..." and played a full set of Scotland the Brave. After landing he filed a claim with Guiness for the altitude record and, unless someone has played them in Concorde with independent altitude confirmation from outside the aircraft, I reckon that record would be damned near unbeatable.

HQ Bomber Command didn't think much of the bagpipes as a new form of ECM (Tartan Putty?) but we humble haggis-bashers still reckon the idea has potential. The bagpipes generate such an awesome set of harmonics there could be no countermeasure.

I piped the Haggis in one Burns Night at Cottesmore Officers Mess. Then I ate two haggis and drank a whole bottle of VAT69 thoughtfully provided by the mess residents... or forced down my throat more like it... The last thing I remember was being poured into a crew bus for shipment back to Waddington. I awoke at about 11am, panicking like hell, managed to struggle into a uniform and tottered off to work (in MEAS) thinking up excuses as I went. Chiefy was surprised when I arrived - Cottesmore's PMC had called our CO, explained what they did to me and wangled me a day off. "Still, now you're here son...."

I was the only one who didn't know.

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Through difficulties to the cinema

[smartman]

Blacksheep

Jock Watson may well've beaten him to it in a Canberra at an earlier date - depends on the altitude I guess --------

[forget]

For those who may not know about it, the May 2004 V Force Reunion is at;

http://www.militarycollectables.co.uk/reunion/index.htm

[forget]

The morning after the ‘Birthday Party’ and I’d decided against heading for the nearest docks. Instead, I found myself picking up a newspaper and wandering into the Airmens Mess, still full at 7.30. Company of any sort was the last thing I wanted so I poured a coffee and sat myself in a quiet corner. As soon as I’d walked in it was obvious that the events of last night were common knowledge.

So there I sat, head down, contemplating my imminent posting to Nuclear Chipmunks at Royal Air Force Wherethe++++isthat. Movement close by caused me to look up and there they were. Two engine fitters (names??) one with a white dish cloth over his left arm, directing his companion on precisely where to place the cutlery, and my Full English.

‘Is Sir contemplating any work today or would Sir be riding to hounds?’ ‘Sir’s copy of the Telegraph appears to be ever so slightly creased. Would Sir allow one to arrange for ironing?’ You get the picture? I did, it was ‘kin hilarious, and the gloom lifted.

Anyway, thinking through these events caused me to ponder on a more serious note; crew selection for nuclear bases. Aircrew were, at least we’d hope they were, subject to deep and meaningful psychological tests. But what of ground crew? There must have been some ‘system’ that selected a certain type of personality for Vulcans and Victors. It may have been no more than a ‘tick in the box’ assessment by instructors during this or that course.

Whatever it was, it worked in putting together hundreds of people with at least one guaranteed thing in common – a world class sense of humour. If you didn’t end up with a belly aching laugh every thirty minutes or so, then you weren’t listening - or watching.

I’m convinced there’s something in this. Whinging gits were so few that, practically, they didn’t exist. And that’s what kept the Vulcans flying. Who’d you rather have with you on a snowed in airfield at 3 in the morning with a fifty knot gale from the North, glycol running down one raised arm from sticking ECM coolant valves, and blood from the other thanks to the ever lurking locking wire. I’d take one of my p’ss taking engine fitters. The glycol would keep him amused for a moment or two and, like some simpleton, I’d be amused by his amusement.

Whatever the system used to select 60’s V Force ground crew, if anyone has any old Manuals around then you’ve got the basis for world beating group personnel assessment. And I’ll bet there’s not the slightest whiff of PC.

.......................

PS. Samuel, How’s Windy Wellington. I witnessed, on a blue skied morning some years ago, one of aviation’s most magical sights. A Bristol Freighter tracking across the city with, at least, 45 degrees of drift on. Never to be forgotten.

[Samuel]

Forget; I guess that's why they built the airfield where they did. There is a shot around here somewhere of the Vulcan that very nearly made Wellington Airport its permanent home, but for some brilliant driving! While Wellington can be closed to civil flying, that never applied to the RNZAF, and I can tell you that my faith in pilots was never more tested when I saw the piano keys sideways in an Andover which miraculously straightened out for a firm kerthump! I'd hesitate to call it a landing.

I think you're spot on with the humour in the V-force, though I can only speak from my two years at Cottesmore. The general athmosphere and morale seemed, to this humble SAC, as being very good, and certainly you had to laugh a lot. When I was bored on shift days off, I used to offer my services to the MT section, and often spent time around ASF taking bits of various Victors to Handley Page at Radlett. That led to one of the funniest exchanges ever between myself and a Chief Tech who knew me, and the loading of a Victor Powered Flying Control unit which I suggested I was to deliver to a museum at Newark. I guess you had to be there, but the confusion was something else.


There was also that snow-clearing Meteor engine on a bomb-trolley, which successfully turned snow into sheet-ice, thus providing we who were parked in isolation at the end of the runway [the early Victors had fairly frequent brake fires] with endless enetertainment from various vehicles sliding off onto the grass.

[Pontius Navigator]

Samuel, you remind me. I was the snow controller at Waddington, a job allocated to Ops rather than the ATC. We had an aircraft stuck at Goose until we could get the field open. The snow at Waddo was exceptionally deep.

The modern maxim of keeping all vehicles off the airfield manoeuvring area did not apply and the lineys going to B-D and E had caused ruts in the western taxy way. We had a solid wall of ice over two feet high right down the centre of the taxy way from the gin palace to RW03 threshold. It was there long after the rest of the snow had melted.

Anyway the pressure was on to get the Goose aircraft back before Monday. This would clear the CinCs tote and allow the next batch of aircraft to go overseas. He always liked as many serviceable aircraft as he could get come Monday morning.

By early Sunday we thought the airfield would be cleared so the Goose aircraft, I think it was Art Legge, was given the proceed. In those days you could not cross the pond without a proceed message. The day was brilliant, 96 million miles vis and a low setting sun when he was due to land. I asked Supply (Stores) for Potassium Permanganate to mark the snow drifts from the 03 threshold to Charlie dispersal and they supplied it. The V-Force did not have VOG and priority one for nothing.

We then set the snow blows to clear the remaining snow from the runway. As advertised they melted some snow, turned some into ice, and blew great chunks of it around to no real effect. Eventually the Goose aircraft checked in. The snow blows were cleared on to the lazy and I did a final check of the runway. 90% clear we told him.

In the bar afterwards the Captain said "I thought you said the runway was 90% clear. It was covered with ice all over. I thought the 10% would have been down either side."

It was 90% clear. There was one square foot of ice stuck firmly to the surface in every 10 square feet. DOH!

[Blacksheep]

Blow Jobs...

I spent my last Friday at Waddington operating a snow-blow on the runway. They were generally shoved along by a fuel bowser - a nice touch that - you couldn't use running out of fuel as an excuse for packing in for the day. You had to be careful with those engines too, they had no surge protection or anything like that and they were all well clapped out. If you got too enthusiastic in revving them up you got a series of loud bangs and some impressive flames and stuff. You would also be treaterd to the sight of a supersonic bowser driver practicing for the 400 yards dash in the next olympics. If you opened it up too far the bowser slewed all over the place, if you didn't give it enough welly you just melted the snow which then froze into solid black ice. Very tricky was snow blowing - like the other kind of blow job, you needed a fine touch to get the revs just right and then keep at it nice and steady until you're done.

On Monday I flew out of Lyneham and on Tuesday morning I was dragging 30 kilos of kit half a mile from Changi arrivals hall to the transit billets - no transport for single airmen in those days of course. That was some introduction to the tropics, I'll say. Instant acclimatisation. What?

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Through difficulties to the cinema

[Samuel]

I thought we at Cottesmore were the only ones to have one of those Meteor snow melters, and yes, they did tie them to a Hippo tanker. Most onlookers used to watch from a safe distance. Funnily enough, I was at the Avalon air show at Geelong in Victoria, Australia in February last year, and they displayed a Meteor 8, and my son [the real Sam!] commented on the strange noise the engines made. It was music to my ears I can tell you!

They also had snow-ploughs on those fuel tankers; specialising in the removal of runway and taxi lights!

As mentioned earlier, the first trials Sqn of the Victor B2 was at Cottesmore. Four aircraft under a very friendly Sqn Ldr who's name I've sadly forgotten. They certainly flew a lot.

I loved the surreal night landings, often of four aircraft, and especially in the rain. The Victor seemed bigger, and with all the orange pan lighting and aircraft lights reflecting off the wet concrete, I only wish I'd had a camera. Illegal of course! Once the first one was down and obligingly dropped the chute, we had to move it and ourselves off the runway smartly because we could see the lights of the next one. It simply wouldn't have been good enough for an aircraft to have to go around because we hadn't got the runway clear, though I can admit now there were times when I simply hitched the hot shackle to the back of the Landrover in order to do so! Needs must.

If you ever wanted to increase your vocabulary, you could go and watch the lineys reload those 'chutes, and listen to the curses bestowed on whoever designed the housing. Apparently it required a wrist action with a 90 degree turn to do it! Not even armourers had that!

[BEagle]

The 'Machine - Runway De-icing' (MRD) was actually quite a common site on RAF aerodromes even in the 1980s. As has been said, it consisted of a framework holding 2 ex-Meteor Derwent engines, between which was a small garden shed in which the luckless operator sat. The jet exhausts were fitted with diffusers and were supposed to blast snow off the runways, the whole Heath-Robertson contraption being pushed around by a fuel bowser!

A fairly lethal piece of kit as far as runway non-skid surfaces, lights, VASI boxes, bowser clutches - and operator's ears ere concerned. I wonder when they were finally withdrawn - and how the present day huggy-fluffy Health and Safety rules would have affected their operation? Somehow I can't imagine civvie contractors operating the things....

I gather that it was a favourite trick to ask "Does anyone have any twin jet time?" in aircrew crewrooms once. Anyone silly enought to admit to it was then offered a 'Meteor' trip - and spent a couple of hours in an MRD!

A Double Derwent worked wonders, worked wonders.......

[50+Ray]

Many Thanks for starting this one. I have had a lot of entertainment from it, and a whole heap of good memories have been refreshed. My Vulcan time (73-80) was the happiest part of the time in uniform. West about to Singapore as a Co, Malta, Cyprus, Offutt, Toronto, and even the Goose provided a lot of laughs with some great blokes. Flying puddlejumpers in the sun does not generate that kind of camaraderie.
Keep it going!

[forget]

Blacksheep’s posting on New RAF Recruiting Ad says;

‘These bunches of scruffs were Britain's main defence against the Red Terror back in the sixties. Despite our appearance we could and would have deep-fried the Soviet Union without batting an eyelid, no messing, at just under two minutes notice’.

Colourful or what! And there’s a photograph of Luqa, Malta, at;

www.avrovulcan.org.uk/vulcan_people/tea_luqa.jpg

Now, this may likely have been an occasion when the sense of humour didn’t kick in! The portly chap in the middle is Geordie Thompson, and I hope he’s reading this! Cottesmore or Waddington, doesn’t matter. We were in the middle of receiving aircraft modified with X Band ECM equipment used to jam the interception and fire control radar of enemy fighters. Prior to that the reliance was solely on Red Shrimp etc to jam the ground radar of the fighter controllers. Can’t see the target then you can’t home in the fighters.

Midnight on Line Squadron and the X Band of one aircraft wouldn’t fire up. By judicious use of matchsticks I bypassed the plastic frangible covers on the emergency switches at the AEO’s station. This showed that the problem was lack of water glycol coolant flow to the X Band transmitter. No problem, get hold of a rigger and have the pump replaced. Problem, this particular rigger wasn’t going to be told by a fairy (I’ll explain later to any American readers) that his pump was stuffed.

What to do to convince him? Drive to the ECM bay, where Geordie Thompson happened to be on nights. Dismantle the coolant flow test gauge in the X Band test cabin, hacksaw off a pair of fluid couplings (fix them tomorrow) and back to the line. All watched with some interest by Geordie Thompson.

Plug the adapted flow gauge into the aircraft and switch on the pump. Demonstrate to rigger that his pump is knackered – accepted. Pump replaced. Job done.

Fast forward three months. I wandered into the ECM Bay where I found an Air Clues, or something similar, lying opened to a particular page. Picture of Geordie Thompson beamed out at me. The real Geordie Thompson looked over at me, and turned ashen. Then I started to read. The AOC, no less, had approved the award of £50.00 to Geordie Thompson for ‘his innovative modification of a flow test gauge to allow in-aircraft testing of X Band coolant systems. This is expected to save zillions of man hours in system fault finding’.

50 Quid! That was a months wages – and he offered me not a penny. Said he’d already spent it! I know you’re out there somewhere…………

[RRAAMJET]

BEags et al: when I was a kid way back when, I remember my Grandad ( OC Eng Wing Luqa & Mersah Matruh way, way back) showing me a black and white photo of a Vulcan (white one) blowing-up an engine and other bits during a flypast. I don't remember any of the details of this incident - is it one of the ones previously listed by another poster? What happened, where was it? Anybody? This thread just brought it to my mind...

BEags, we even had one of those snow-blowing death-traps murdering the Oxfordshire quiet at Benson; ruined my Telegraph Crossword & cup-of-tea listening to that....

[Archimedes]

Maybe the crash at Syerston of VX770, the first prototype? It crashed at a Battle of Britain Day display in September (obviously) 1958.

[BEagle]

That's probably the one. VX770 was the first prototype ac, not a production model. Originally it had been fitted with 4xAvons of 6500 lb thrust each; on its final flight on 20 Sep 58 it was being used as a test bed fitted with 4xConways of 17500 lb thrust each (NOT Olympi!).

It was estimated that the ac was flying down the RW at 410-420 knots at 60 ft before it was pulled into a rolling pull-up at 2 to 3g.

The pilot had been briefed for a 2-300 ft flypast at 250-300 knots; the ac was limited to 380 knots and +2.25g in straight flight and half this g limit if aileron was applied.

In the event the pilot flew outside his brief and beyond the aircraft's limits. Neither the ac, the pilot, or the other 3 in the crew survived; from passing the tower to crashing on Syerston's RW25 threshold, killing 3 people on the ground in the process took 6 seconds.

(With acknowledgement to my first Vulcan captain, Andrew Brookes, for his detailed research on the subject.

[FJJP]

Many moons ago in the depths of a harsh (V cold) winter at Scampton, a tin triangle did a high speed abort on 23. It ended up on the overrun, which was a piece of soft tarmac designed to allow the ac to sink into it to prevent it rolling through the boundary fence, across the road and down the ridge.

Anyway, there was this steaming heap, sitting atop this frozen tarmac, with Staish, OC Eng, Sqn Cdr et al scratching heads as to how they were going to get it off the 'soft' tarmac. V small girly (Acting Plt Off) engineer u/t who was under tow with OC Eng piped up with a suggestion and was roundly slapped down because a) she was a girly and b) she knew nothing about aircraft and c) this was a major problem for grown ups to solve. In short, she didn't have the brain power.

She hung around a bit, whilst her elders and betters figured out how to get ropes around the landing gear to allow the big tug (weighing several tons) to sit on the concrete runway then tow the ac off the tarmac backwards. Much talk about geometry, stress on the landing gear, tug sinking into the tarmac, etc, when girly got V fed up because no-one would listen and exclaimed in a very loud voice for all to hear... 'If the bloody Vulcan weighing 20 tons on narrow wheels hasn't sunk into the bloody tarmac, I don't suppose the tug on big fat wheels weighing 5 tons will sink in either'...

She turned on her heels and stomped off, leaving said 'experts' to ponder on the wisdom of youff... 'See to it Chief', says OC Eng, sliding quietly towards his car. Convoy of Scampton's finest departs the scene...