Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
Re the timed traffic lights in Germany.
The German town of Viersen which is about halfway between Monchengladbach and the Dutch border at Venlo had timed lights. These lights showed the speed at which one need to travel to get the next set at green. I remember the system worked very well, and if you did get to the next set at red, once they'd turned green it was only necessary to follow the numbers for a 'no stops' drive.
The German town of Viersen which is about halfway between Monchengladbach and the Dutch border at Venlo had timed lights. These lights showed the speed at which one need to travel to get the next set at green. I remember the system worked very well, and if you did get to the next set at red, once they'd turned green it was only necessary to follow the numbers for a 'no stops' drive.
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Warmtoast,
Wish that could happen in my city. I'm sure the council have a "Make them burn more petrol for our taxes" policy.
Even driving home from work at 2am on a Sunday would get you stopped at most lights. In fact in the 15 years on the same route I only made a non stop trip once or maybe even twice and the trip was only 2 1/2 miles.
Wish that could happen in my city. I'm sure the council have a "Make them burn more petrol for our taxes" policy.
Even driving home from work at 2am on a Sunday would get you stopped at most lights. In fact in the 15 years on the same route I only made a non stop trip once or maybe even twice and the trip was only 2 1/2 miles.
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Frohlich Weinachten.
Chugalug,
Rest assured, Sir, we are not Making Mock of your Misfortune (and in any case you came out of it with Honour Unsullied) - but "you 'ave to larf", now really, don't you ? (after it was all over, and you and your crew suffered no harm, except perhaps the "loadie", who may have had rope burns from sliding down that ship's hawser), which I still think is a prop holding the tail up !
Of course your Berlin trip must still have been at the height of the Cold War: I am surprised that the Staatspolizei did not try to intimidate you on the Autobahn (I don't think they had Wartburgs, probably something more potent [Skoda Octavias ?] for the job - read somewhere that young Luftwafffe pilots were forbidden to own them because of the accident record).
Yes HMC&E were a bit of a bind. When I bought a Renault 16 in UK in '72, they did me for Import Duty plus Purchase Tax on top of all (? too early for VAT ? - should know !). As that was tax-on-tax, I thought it a bit hard (put quite a dent in my Lump Sum, too !)
Thank you for your You Tube of "Berliner Luft". It's a fine, bouncing march and really gets the Berliners going. There are umpteen versions on the web by the Berlin Philharmonic.....D.
Wander00, airborne artist and MPN11,
You learn something new every day ! So there were other examples in Britain, too..D.
a a, we've long suspected that "14" wasn't quite right - now you've "come clean" - but 53 miles at an average of 15.6 mph at age 54 ! What are they feeding you on ? Even when I was 14, and nobody thought anything of 50 miles "on yer bike", we reckoned 12 mph was good. Now, even if I could remember how (do you really never forget), and I still could , I'd be too terrified of our broken, pot-holed roads even to try...D.
mikehallam,
Your:
"I've a feeling the whole idea of timed lights was dropped and in the UK we succumbed to wholesale deployment of roundabouts, nowadays reduced to vestigial white circles".
I read that, in Germany, the Traffic Police greatly admired our Roundabouts (Kreisfahren ?) as the result of an accident was usually "nur blech" ("only tinware"), instead of the deaths and injuries which came from crossroad crashes....D.
Now, in my capacity as Old Man in The Corner,
A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all our PPRuNers and Readers .
(with a special Thanks to our Moderators, for leaving us alone to play).
Wishing you All The Best, Danny and Family.
Rest assured, Sir, we are not Making Mock of your Misfortune (and in any case you came out of it with Honour Unsullied) - but "you 'ave to larf", now really, don't you ? (after it was all over, and you and your crew suffered no harm, except perhaps the "loadie", who may have had rope burns from sliding down that ship's hawser), which I still think is a prop holding the tail up !
Of course your Berlin trip must still have been at the height of the Cold War: I am surprised that the Staatspolizei did not try to intimidate you on the Autobahn (I don't think they had Wartburgs, probably something more potent [Skoda Octavias ?] for the job - read somewhere that young Luftwafffe pilots were forbidden to own them because of the accident record).
Yes HMC&E were a bit of a bind. When I bought a Renault 16 in UK in '72, they did me for Import Duty plus Purchase Tax on top of all (? too early for VAT ? - should know !). As that was tax-on-tax, I thought it a bit hard (put quite a dent in my Lump Sum, too !)
Thank you for your You Tube of "Berliner Luft". It's a fine, bouncing march and really gets the Berliners going. There are umpteen versions on the web by the Berlin Philharmonic.....D.
Wander00, airborne artist and MPN11,
You learn something new every day ! So there were other examples in Britain, too..D.
a a, we've long suspected that "14" wasn't quite right - now you've "come clean" - but 53 miles at an average of 15.6 mph at age 54 ! What are they feeding you on ? Even when I was 14, and nobody thought anything of 50 miles "on yer bike", we reckoned 12 mph was good. Now, even if I could remember how (do you really never forget), and I still could , I'd be too terrified of our broken, pot-holed roads even to try...D.
mikehallam,
Your:
"I've a feeling the whole idea of timed lights was dropped and in the UK we succumbed to wholesale deployment of roundabouts, nowadays reduced to vestigial white circles".
I read that, in Germany, the Traffic Police greatly admired our Roundabouts (Kreisfahren ?) as the result of an accident was usually "nur blech" ("only tinware"), instead of the deaths and injuries which came from crossroad crashes....D.
Now, in my capacity as Old Man in The Corner,
A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all our PPRuNers and Readers .
(with a special Thanks to our Moderators, for leaving us alone to play).
Wishing you All The Best, Danny and Family.
Aahh Danny, you do throw those logs on the fire. We approach the end of yet another epic year of this thread, and all the history that it "hoovers up" in its progress through the posts for all of us, to recount our history and feel that we all can relate to the originators of the thread in their service to our country (though, many like me, offer only recent experience). We should all be grateful to the moderators for their forbearance, but accept that a story that started in 1943 is still happening, and long may that continue. Like you, I wish all fellow PPruners a very merry Christmas, and the very best of fortune for the coming year. Looking forward to the continued progress of this now, surely, the doyen of the Military threads, in the coming year. Once again, felicitations to all.
Smudge
Smudge
Long distance speed checks must be of Marxist/Leninist origin. It's the same in parts of China.
For example, the expressway from Luzhao that joins the Chengdu/Chongqing expressway is 60 kilometres long. When you collect your ticket as you enter it at Luzhao it has a time stamped on it. The speed limit is 120 kph so if you arrive at the next toll within thirty minutes you get bounced for speeding; 10 yuan/minute, about £1. The result it that as you approach the end there would be all these vehicles either stopped or moving slowly with the drivers looking at their watches.
Never bothered me; a few reminbe here and there, mayo wente.
For example, the expressway from Luzhao that joins the Chengdu/Chongqing expressway is 60 kilometres long. When you collect your ticket as you enter it at Luzhao it has a time stamped on it. The speed limit is 120 kph so if you arrive at the next toll within thirty minutes you get bounced for speeding; 10 yuan/minute, about £1. The result it that as you approach the end there would be all these vehicles either stopped or moving slowly with the drivers looking at their watches.
Never bothered me; a few reminbe here and there, mayo wente.
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Teeth, 'ack-'nd-bash, and Engines.
Chugalug2,
Although I had the pleasure of 'just being along for the ride' in a couple of different 4-engined taildraggers, grass excursions off the Tarmac happened on a couple of occasions. Fortunate each time to still have our tail wheel on the ground at the end, but more of that later.
Airborne_artist,
Had a look at my push bike a couple of weeks ago for about 15 seconds. Then lit up a cigarette. I'm 55.
Educated Armourer,
I sincerely believe that during my time, the RAF was the best flying club in the world, and I even had the pleasure and the privilege of being a member of the Best Flying Club in the best flying club in the world for my last tour, but that is another story for later. My only visit to Cosford was around 10 years ago, and it was to the museum after inspecting a friends aircraft. Good cafe and exceptional museum. The Trade Training School (No2 SoTT IIRC) churned out some excellent people in many disciplines of aircraft engineering.
Danny, BEagle et al,
On the few occasions I visited Germany, it was in the '90's. None of the stresses you gentlemen have mentioned. However, I quickly realised that the safest place on the autobahns was the inside lane as the fastest cars in Europe were all flat out in the outside lane. Of course, by this time, there were not even any border controls. The buildings were still in place on the border between Holland and Germany, but they were abandoned and the barriers removed.
Fareastdriver,
They don't make 'em like that any more, but at one time, they seemed to be fitted to everything. Even the Comet prototype. And at around 900 lbs each with brakes fitted, I'm glad they don't.
Halton (contd)
As well as being the Premier SoTT
, RAF Halton had the previously mentioned hospital (ahh, nurses), and it was also the training school for Dental Nurses. During the early classroom work sessions, I was given a card. "Report for Dental Parade etc, etc". Camlobe duly turns up and awaits the 5-minute checkup. Not today. A most striking beauty, approaches me, calls me by my name...and I forget the rest. I was dumbstruck at my luck. Unfortunately, just when I really needed to make a favourable first impression, my tongue went on strike. And to top it off, I carried out a majestic trip against the magazine table. No doubt, the angelic girl would be mightily impressed with my break-dance recovery, but her modesty prevented her complementing me on my efforts. By the time I had sat down, my deft and cool persona was still in the waiting room. The girl was a Dental Nurse trainee. We got chatting and after a couple of minutes, I felt certain that my charm had completely erased my earlier faux pas from her mind. She asked me about my dental history, and became extremely interested to hear about the private dental treatment I had endured in my early teens. After a quick root (sic) around my mandibles, she became quite excited. I had just been elevated from "nothing new here, next" to "this will make my coursework far more interesting than anyone else's". I returned a number of times to allow her to drool over my gnashers, and to my eternal dismay, this was the only part of camlobe that she found interesting. And as for my charm attempt, the passing remark of "mind the table" every visit left me very deflated.
Although the Bull Nights were regular, they were less often than in Basic training. However, the standards were still high. The only real leeway we were given was the allowance of private bed covers and quilts. This worked extremely well as the bed pack would remain in the bottom of the cupboard, and would only see the light of day for the Bull Night inspection. Marching was confined to the trip down hill in the morning, back up again at night, and every other trip we did while in uniform e.g. SHQ, Dental, gym.
Our instructors were all serving or ex NCO's. The fact that these gentlemen had been there, seen it, and done it made a considerable difference to us sprogs. It is far easier to respect someone who has done it and teaches it, than someone who just teaches it. Through the whole nine months of our technical training, there was only one instructor who didn't come up to scratch compared to all the others. I met this individual 18 years later, and he hadn't improved, but that is another story.
Our first sojourn out of the classroom and away from mathematics, basic physics etc, was to the Basic Engineering or "hack and bash" workshop. This shed was for some, a torture chamber, and for others a challenge, but I don't seriously think that any of the thousands who had been here before found it easy. Hack and bash was where the instructors gauged your hand skills with basic tools. And I mean basic. A hacksaw, a file, a square, and a vice. Over the next few days (?) we had to create a lump that was cut, filed, drilled, riveted, and generally sworn at. It had to be perfect. I foolishly thought that, because I was quite skilled at working with tools on woodwork and metalwork, I would be able to produce the required standard in record time. After having my attempts rejected at each and every stage, I seriously thought I was about to have my career ended here at the first technical hurdle. However, after settling down and trying to produce the workpiece through patience and precision, not speed, it started to slowly meet the standard, although I am sure it was only the minimum.
Thirty years before, a number of gentlemen have advised me, the workpiece was a bit different. Everyone started with a block of steel approximately one and a half inches rough square. They then had to reduce this to a cube of one inch square, accurate to one thousandth of an inch, and all corners square. My respects to my predecessors.
The Discip Sergeant happily informs us that AOC's is coming. Oh, joy. More Bull Nights. And it is my old friend AVM Pete Bairsto again. Twice in a matter of weeks. I should get the beers in.
Every morning and afternoon, we enjoy a short break. One of the sheds is empty, and at each break, two NAAFI wagons park up, swing up the rear, and allow mayhem to commence. The tea is terrible, the coffee slightly better, but the 'snake and pigmy' pies are to die for. A couple of hundred guys chattering while filling their faces is the same sight and sound whether at a rugger match, a barbecue, or a shed. The clothing may be different, but the topics of conversation are the same. Work, girls, cars, sport, beer.
We are given a bit of a tour around the shed complex. At one end is the riggers training ground. The shed seems to be filled with Sea Vixen's and Whirlwind Helecopters. In the middle ground is the general familiarisation area with ejector seats and Gnats. The engine shed is full of engines, both turboprop and jet. In one corner, there are a number of piston engines, and I linger here far too long. An number of Alvis Leonides radials, a Rolls Royce Merlin, and I seem to remember a cutaway of a Bristol Hercules. The Hercules looked to be the most complex engine I have ever seen. There are also propellers, including one that had been fastened to one of the sheds vertical stanchions. I once witnessed three Malaysians attempting to use the five foot long Acrotorq torque wrench to tighten this propeller up. The three of these slim and light chaps could not make the torque wrench 'break'. They were assisted by one of the instructors. Then they had to reset the torque wrench. When the roller snapped back in, three flying objects departed the torque wrench. I believe no great harm was done.
Having successfully completed "hack and bash", and another round of exams, we moved onto the real deal. Engines. This course was to be the first not to undergo piston engine training as most of the RAF aircraft were powered by jets (actually this had been the case for some years). The RAF got this one wrong, really, because a number of years later, I returned for my piston engine course, but that is for another time.
Camlobe
Merry Christmas to all our readers and contributors.
Although I had the pleasure of 'just being along for the ride' in a couple of different 4-engined taildraggers, grass excursions off the Tarmac happened on a couple of occasions. Fortunate each time to still have our tail wheel on the ground at the end, but more of that later.
Airborne_artist,
Had a look at my push bike a couple of weeks ago for about 15 seconds. Then lit up a cigarette. I'm 55.
Educated Armourer,
I sincerely believe that during my time, the RAF was the best flying club in the world, and I even had the pleasure and the privilege of being a member of the Best Flying Club in the best flying club in the world for my last tour, but that is another story for later. My only visit to Cosford was around 10 years ago, and it was to the museum after inspecting a friends aircraft. Good cafe and exceptional museum. The Trade Training School (No2 SoTT IIRC) churned out some excellent people in many disciplines of aircraft engineering.
Danny, BEagle et al,
On the few occasions I visited Germany, it was in the '90's. None of the stresses you gentlemen have mentioned. However, I quickly realised that the safest place on the autobahns was the inside lane as the fastest cars in Europe were all flat out in the outside lane. Of course, by this time, there were not even any border controls. The buildings were still in place on the border between Holland and Germany, but they were abandoned and the barriers removed.
Fareastdriver,
They don't make 'em like that any more, but at one time, they seemed to be fitted to everything. Even the Comet prototype. And at around 900 lbs each with brakes fitted, I'm glad they don't.
Halton (contd)
As well as being the Premier SoTT
, RAF Halton had the previously mentioned hospital (ahh, nurses), and it was also the training school for Dental Nurses. During the early classroom work sessions, I was given a card. "Report for Dental Parade etc, etc". Camlobe duly turns up and awaits the 5-minute checkup. Not today. A most striking beauty, approaches me, calls me by my name...and I forget the rest. I was dumbstruck at my luck. Unfortunately, just when I really needed to make a favourable first impression, my tongue went on strike. And to top it off, I carried out a majestic trip against the magazine table. No doubt, the angelic girl would be mightily impressed with my break-dance recovery, but her modesty prevented her complementing me on my efforts. By the time I had sat down, my deft and cool persona was still in the waiting room. The girl was a Dental Nurse trainee. We got chatting and after a couple of minutes, I felt certain that my charm had completely erased my earlier faux pas from her mind. She asked me about my dental history, and became extremely interested to hear about the private dental treatment I had endured in my early teens. After a quick root (sic) around my mandibles, she became quite excited. I had just been elevated from "nothing new here, next" to "this will make my coursework far more interesting than anyone else's". I returned a number of times to allow her to drool over my gnashers, and to my eternal dismay, this was the only part of camlobe that she found interesting. And as for my charm attempt, the passing remark of "mind the table" every visit left me very deflated.Although the Bull Nights were regular, they were less often than in Basic training. However, the standards were still high. The only real leeway we were given was the allowance of private bed covers and quilts. This worked extremely well as the bed pack would remain in the bottom of the cupboard, and would only see the light of day for the Bull Night inspection. Marching was confined to the trip down hill in the morning, back up again at night, and every other trip we did while in uniform e.g. SHQ, Dental, gym.
Our instructors were all serving or ex NCO's. The fact that these gentlemen had been there, seen it, and done it made a considerable difference to us sprogs. It is far easier to respect someone who has done it and teaches it, than someone who just teaches it. Through the whole nine months of our technical training, there was only one instructor who didn't come up to scratch compared to all the others. I met this individual 18 years later, and he hadn't improved, but that is another story.
Our first sojourn out of the classroom and away from mathematics, basic physics etc, was to the Basic Engineering or "hack and bash" workshop. This shed was for some, a torture chamber, and for others a challenge, but I don't seriously think that any of the thousands who had been here before found it easy. Hack and bash was where the instructors gauged your hand skills with basic tools. And I mean basic. A hacksaw, a file, a square, and a vice. Over the next few days (?) we had to create a lump that was cut, filed, drilled, riveted, and generally sworn at. It had to be perfect. I foolishly thought that, because I was quite skilled at working with tools on woodwork and metalwork, I would be able to produce the required standard in record time. After having my attempts rejected at each and every stage, I seriously thought I was about to have my career ended here at the first technical hurdle. However, after settling down and trying to produce the workpiece through patience and precision, not speed, it started to slowly meet the standard, although I am sure it was only the minimum.
Thirty years before, a number of gentlemen have advised me, the workpiece was a bit different. Everyone started with a block of steel approximately one and a half inches rough square. They then had to reduce this to a cube of one inch square, accurate to one thousandth of an inch, and all corners square. My respects to my predecessors.
The Discip Sergeant happily informs us that AOC's is coming. Oh, joy. More Bull Nights. And it is my old friend AVM Pete Bairsto again. Twice in a matter of weeks. I should get the beers in.
Every morning and afternoon, we enjoy a short break. One of the sheds is empty, and at each break, two NAAFI wagons park up, swing up the rear, and allow mayhem to commence. The tea is terrible, the coffee slightly better, but the 'snake and pigmy' pies are to die for. A couple of hundred guys chattering while filling their faces is the same sight and sound whether at a rugger match, a barbecue, or a shed. The clothing may be different, but the topics of conversation are the same. Work, girls, cars, sport, beer.
We are given a bit of a tour around the shed complex. At one end is the riggers training ground. The shed seems to be filled with Sea Vixen's and Whirlwind Helecopters. In the middle ground is the general familiarisation area with ejector seats and Gnats. The engine shed is full of engines, both turboprop and jet. In one corner, there are a number of piston engines, and I linger here far too long. An number of Alvis Leonides radials, a Rolls Royce Merlin, and I seem to remember a cutaway of a Bristol Hercules. The Hercules looked to be the most complex engine I have ever seen. There are also propellers, including one that had been fastened to one of the sheds vertical stanchions. I once witnessed three Malaysians attempting to use the five foot long Acrotorq torque wrench to tighten this propeller up. The three of these slim and light chaps could not make the torque wrench 'break'. They were assisted by one of the instructors. Then they had to reset the torque wrench. When the roller snapped back in, three flying objects departed the torque wrench. I believe no great harm was done.
Having successfully completed "hack and bash", and another round of exams, we moved onto the real deal. Engines. This course was to be the first not to undergo piston engine training as most of the RAF aircraft were powered by jets (actually this had been the case for some years). The RAF got this one wrong, really, because a number of years later, I returned for my piston engine course, but that is for another time.
Camlobe
Merry Christmas to all our readers and contributors.
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Danny
They had timed lights at Gutersloh when I was there in the 70's, very good they were too. There's a road in Lincoln with 12 sets of lights laughingly called the Tritton relief road that could do with them. It's Lincoln's longest car park.
Educated Armourer
Whereabouts in Waddo are you? I'm one of the noisemongers at Waddo flying club, come over and have a brew sometime.
MMitch
The only Christmas I remember being on duty (although there must have been more) was at Gut when I was on Snow and Ice over the period. We were called out on New Year's Eve too...
. The three or four of us that were there spent most of the call out racing around the sheet ice in our cars on 3 Sqdn's pan well away from any interfering eyes; headlights on in the dark sliding all over the place. Great fun.
Edit: I remember being on orderly dog once at Sealand. I had been trying some homebrew the night before so was a little under the weather, so the earthquake that happened wasa bit of a dream like affair. It left a ripple in the concrete floor of the guardroom. The same thing happened when I was instructing at Cosford. The classroom started shaking and my immediate thoughts were that a Vulcan was doing a roller. It was just another earthquake. Another one woke me up in Lincoln not so many years ago. Thank God we live in an earthquake free country. Although having said that the original Lincoln Cathedral was almost destroyed in one.
They had timed lights at Gutersloh when I was there in the 70's, very good they were too. There's a road in Lincoln with 12 sets of lights laughingly called the Tritton relief road that could do with them. It's Lincoln's longest car park.
Educated Armourer
Whereabouts in Waddo are you? I'm one of the noisemongers at Waddo flying club, come over and have a brew sometime.
MMitch
The only Christmas I remember being on duty (although there must have been more) was at Gut when I was on Snow and Ice over the period. We were called out on New Year's Eve too...
. The three or four of us that were there spent most of the call out racing around the sheet ice in our cars on 3 Sqdn's pan well away from any interfering eyes; headlights on in the dark sliding all over the place. Great fun.Edit: I remember being on orderly dog once at Sealand. I had been trying some homebrew the night before so was a little under the weather, so the earthquake that happened wasa bit of a dream like affair. It left a ripple in the concrete floor of the guardroom. The same thing happened when I was instructing at Cosford. The classroom started shaking and my immediate thoughts were that a Vulcan was doing a roller. It was just another earthquake. Another one woke me up in Lincoln not so many years ago. Thank God we live in an earthquake free country. Although having said that the original Lincoln Cathedral was almost destroyed in one.
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Originally Posted by camlobe
The only real leeway we were given was the allowance of private bed covers and quilts. This worked extremely well as the bed pack would remain in the bottom of the cupboard, and would only see the light of day for the Bull Night inspection.
Originally Posted by camlobe
Thirty years before, a number of gentlemen have advised me, the workpiece was a bit different. Everyone started with a block of steel approximately one and a half inches rough square. They then had to reduce this to a cube of one inch square, accurate to one thousandth of an inch, and all corners square.
_______________
May I take this moment to also wish you all, readers and contributors and indeed all servicemen/women (past and present, and regardless of uniform colour), a very Happy Christmas and a safe and healthy 2014.
Danny, I do indeed rest assured Sir. My post was merely an attempt at your caption competition in the manner of WD491 addressing me in reproof, given that I had left her with her nose buried in the grass. Having explained my feeble joke, it is obviously no longer in the running. C'est la vie! 
Camlobe, kind of you to reassure me that inadvertently taking to the grass was par for the course, but I should just as swiftly reassure you that it was my only such offence of that type.
Personal duvets? I can hardly believe it. We have come a long way from Danny's personal fully strung air transportable collapsible scratcher, but ingenuity will out and your bed pack was, I am sure, pristine.
Interesting that you found the Hercules complex. I did too, but from a lower level of knowledge. Suffice it to say that all the complexity kept going once fired up, only to be arrested in my experience by some ancillary fault or other, which a harness change or injector flush would often cure. A broken oil pipe was the one cause of having to shut one down in anger that I recall. We diverted to RAAF Pearce as a result and taxied onto their clean white concrete apron. Well, it was up to then...
A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all that inhabit these hallowed portals. May 2014 be just as enjoyable as its predecessors on this, the Best of all PPRuNe Threads!
Camlobe, kind of you to reassure me that inadvertently taking to the grass was par for the course, but I should just as swiftly reassure you that it was my only such offence of that type.
Personal duvets? I can hardly believe it. We have come a long way from Danny's personal fully strung air transportable collapsible scratcher, but ingenuity will out and your bed pack was, I am sure, pristine.
Interesting that you found the Hercules complex. I did too, but from a lower level of knowledge. Suffice it to say that all the complexity kept going once fired up, only to be arrested in my experience by some ancillary fault or other, which a harness change or injector flush would often cure. A broken oil pipe was the one cause of having to shut one down in anger that I recall. We diverted to RAAF Pearce as a result and taxied onto their clean white concrete apron. Well, it was up to then...
A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all that inhabit these hallowed portals. May 2014 be just as enjoyable as its predecessors on this, the Best of all PPRuNe Threads!
Last edited by Chugalug2; 22nd Dec 2013 at 10:20.
I too love this thread! No-one trying to score points off or insult someone!
Airborne Artist
At 67 I'm still cycling 3 times a week - generally average 40 miles.
This summer while cycling through Llanthony over the Black Mountains I stopped to assist a couple of cyclists with a problem - he was 80 and out touring Wales from Bristol! His good lady looked about my age.
Last year, while riding between Raglan and Monmouth I was overtaken by an 81 yr old - told me he was out from Newport and practising for the annual 12 hour ride that starts there!
There is a retired Herc' pilot I know ( who has just clocked 70 ) who cycles every day and does the trip from home in Malmesbury to his cottage at Lochinver ( North of Ullapool ) in 3 days. Wiggo eat your heart out!
Mery Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year.
Airborne Artist
At 67 I'm still cycling 3 times a week - generally average 40 miles.
This summer while cycling through Llanthony over the Black Mountains I stopped to assist a couple of cyclists with a problem - he was 80 and out touring Wales from Bristol! His good lady looked about my age.
Last year, while riding between Raglan and Monmouth I was overtaken by an 81 yr old - told me he was out from Newport and practising for the annual 12 hour ride that starts there!
There is a retired Herc' pilot I know ( who has just clocked 70 ) who cycles every day and does the trip from home in Malmesbury to his cottage at Lochinver ( North of Ullapool ) in 3 days. Wiggo eat your heart out!
Mery Christmas everyone and a Happy New Year.
Danny and everyone else who has contributed to this thread over the year, many thanks for sharing your memories to make a stunningly riveting thread. May I wish all a Happy Christmas and a stonking 2014
W
W
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In the late fifties there was a traffic signal suspended over the crossroads in the centre of Gutersloh town which resembled a clock face with red and green sectors and a pointer which rotated. It worked well as if it was showing the green sector you could estimate how long it would be in your favour as you approached. Anyhow my wife and kids newly arrived in MQs opposite the airfield made regular journeys into town to the NAAFI shop etc. After about a month of this I happened to sit beside her (in our new Peugeot 403, in case you are interested Danny) as she drove towards the junction. With loud cries from me of "STOP STOP" she came to a halt. I pointed out signal in the red almost above us. "Oh" she said, "I wondered what that thing was". She must have been very lucky previously.
On a slightly different tack some of the pedestrian crossings in Berlin had three lights by the push buttons, two red and one green. No one seemed to know the reason so we asked a policeman, as you do. It turned out to be a safety measure in case one of the red bulbs failed. Clever chaps, those Krauts.
On a slightly different tack some of the pedestrian crossings in Berlin had three lights by the push buttons, two red and one green. No one seemed to know the reason so we asked a policeman, as you do. It turned out to be a safety measure in case one of the red bulbs failed. Clever chaps, those Krauts.
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Wander00 - Seconded!
Happy Christmas to all. Reading Danny's post re. Gatow made me think fondly of almost the final trip on the METS course at Finningley which involved a weekend landaway flown by the studes (me) with our QFI's. (METS being then the multi-engine training sqn to train pilots for the likes of Nimrod, Hercules, Andover etc. and part of no. 6 FTS)
I did mine at the end of February in 1981 and with four studes plus 2 QFI's on board we headed east. Mine was the first leg FY to Gutersloh flown on airways and lasted 2 hours and on arrival we did a quick turn-round and refuelled for the next leg to Gatow. The rest of the trip was as a pax but we were all briefed to keep a good lookout as we flew down the central corridor at fairly low level, probably no more than FL50 or FL70 and past Hannover and into East German airspace.
It was amazing, our route took us just north of Brandenburg and over various military airfields and training areas. I distinctly remember one with huge numbers of helicopters and also spotting the river Elbe as we crossed it. Another memory I have is seeing the other air traffic heading west with BAC 111's (and the like) flashing past us with only a 500 foot vertical separation. It certainly made you concentrate on flying accurately!
On arrival at Gatow we did a virtually straight-in approach over a Russian military tank training area which we flew over relatively low and landed shortly after a RAF C-130 had landed and only after arrival did we hear that it had taken hits from a trigger happy Russian who had loosed off with his AK47! The Herc had been hit in the wing and was leaking fuel. I don't know if this was fairly common then or if it sparked off a diplomatic incident or not but I didn't hear much about this afterwards.
We were put up in the OM which was pretty typical of any RAF Mess but this had a certain amount of history too it with ISTR a huge basement. This was on a Friday and we were not due to return till the Monday so the next two days were spent "sightseeing" both in the nightclubs of the famous Kurfustendam (Club 77?) and also crossing into East Berlin (dressed in No.1's) via Check Point Charlie and dining out in style c/o the French Air Force at their airfield at Tegel.
Seeing East Berlin was a revelation. There was very little traffic on the wide roads and still evidence of bomb sites which had not been re-built. By contract West Berlin was full of traffic and every suitable building plot had been developed. At the time we had a Master Nav called "Spud" Murphy at METS where he was one of the ground instructors and just about to retire. He had flown in Lancasters in 1944 and 1945 and had flown on ops to Berlin. He used to joke that he had created some of the car parks in Berlin!
I also remember being pleasantly surprised to find out that the exchange rate was 10:1 between East and West German Marks; This wasn't apparent to us when we were looking at the price list displayed outside a hotel restaurant but once we clock this the prices looked VERY reasonable indeed so we proceeded to have a big feast! No doubt we were eating in a restaurant where only Russian military, the East German elite, the Stazi and foreigners could dine. We saw queues outside food shops elsewhere and the shops were practically empty with little in the shop-windows.
Crossing back into West Berlin was like turning the lights back on after a power cut! The rest of the weekend was a blur and I was glad that I was not one of the studes having to fly back on the return leg. In fact I felt I had the easiest part with UK ATC for part of it before Eurocontrol took over with a radar to PAR at Gutersloh.
Now all a distant memory, of nearly 34 years ago. Keep the memories flowing Danny - you've got a better memory than me!
Happy Christmas one and all.
Madbob
Happy Christmas to all. Reading Danny's post re. Gatow made me think fondly of almost the final trip on the METS course at Finningley which involved a weekend landaway flown by the studes (me) with our QFI's. (METS being then the multi-engine training sqn to train pilots for the likes of Nimrod, Hercules, Andover etc. and part of no. 6 FTS)
I did mine at the end of February in 1981 and with four studes plus 2 QFI's on board we headed east. Mine was the first leg FY to Gutersloh flown on airways and lasted 2 hours and on arrival we did a quick turn-round and refuelled for the next leg to Gatow. The rest of the trip was as a pax but we were all briefed to keep a good lookout as we flew down the central corridor at fairly low level, probably no more than FL50 or FL70 and past Hannover and into East German airspace.
It was amazing, our route took us just north of Brandenburg and over various military airfields and training areas. I distinctly remember one with huge numbers of helicopters and also spotting the river Elbe as we crossed it. Another memory I have is seeing the other air traffic heading west with BAC 111's (and the like) flashing past us with only a 500 foot vertical separation. It certainly made you concentrate on flying accurately!
On arrival at Gatow we did a virtually straight-in approach over a Russian military tank training area which we flew over relatively low and landed shortly after a RAF C-130 had landed and only after arrival did we hear that it had taken hits from a trigger happy Russian who had loosed off with his AK47! The Herc had been hit in the wing and was leaking fuel. I don't know if this was fairly common then or if it sparked off a diplomatic incident or not but I didn't hear much about this afterwards.
We were put up in the OM which was pretty typical of any RAF Mess but this had a certain amount of history too it with ISTR a huge basement. This was on a Friday and we were not due to return till the Monday so the next two days were spent "sightseeing" both in the nightclubs of the famous Kurfustendam (Club 77?) and also crossing into East Berlin (dressed in No.1's) via Check Point Charlie and dining out in style c/o the French Air Force at their airfield at Tegel.
Seeing East Berlin was a revelation. There was very little traffic on the wide roads and still evidence of bomb sites which had not been re-built. By contract West Berlin was full of traffic and every suitable building plot had been developed. At the time we had a Master Nav called "Spud" Murphy at METS where he was one of the ground instructors and just about to retire. He had flown in Lancasters in 1944 and 1945 and had flown on ops to Berlin. He used to joke that he had created some of the car parks in Berlin!
I also remember being pleasantly surprised to find out that the exchange rate was 10:1 between East and West German Marks; This wasn't apparent to us when we were looking at the price list displayed outside a hotel restaurant but once we clock this the prices looked VERY reasonable indeed so we proceeded to have a big feast! No doubt we were eating in a restaurant where only Russian military, the East German elite, the Stazi and foreigners could dine. We saw queues outside food shops elsewhere and the shops were practically empty with little in the shop-windows.
Crossing back into West Berlin was like turning the lights back on after a power cut! The rest of the weekend was a blur and I was glad that I was not one of the studes having to fly back on the return leg. In fact I felt I had the easiest part with UK ATC for part of it before Eurocontrol took over with a radar to PAR at Gutersloh.
Now all a distant memory, of nearly 34 years ago. Keep the memories flowing Danny - you've got a better memory than me!
Happy Christmas one and all.
Madbob
I also remember being pleasantly surprised to find out that the exchange rate was 10:1 between East and West German Marks; This wasn't apparent to us when we were looking at the price list displayed outside a hotel restaurant but once we clock this the prices looked VERY reasonable indeed so we proceeded to have a big feast!
On a slightly different tack some of the pedestrian crossings in Berlin had three lights by the push buttons, two red and one green. No one seemed to know the reason so we asked a policeman, as you do.
Chinese traffic light are the best. They have big numbers below them that tick off the seconds before the lights are going to turn green or red. The amber is during the last five seconds before the red and there is no red/amber. The have violation cameras so if you floor the throttlle to get past before they change and then fail you can feel the flash as the camera goes off. That's 50 yuan.
You make a note of it and at the end of the month you trot along to the Fines Department and pay your bill otherwise you have to pay extra if they send it. Some you weren't expecting but on the whole they were pretty fair and of course there are no penalty points involved.
Should you cause an accident with a skinful you can look for a big compensation bill and a long time in a slammer.
You make a note of it and at the end of the month you trot along to the Fines Department and pay your bill otherwise you have to pay extra if they send it. Some you weren't expecting but on the whole they were pretty fair and of course there are no penalty points involved.
Should you cause an accident with a skinful you can look for a big compensation bill and a long time in a slammer.
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Just to clarify at the risk of being called a mis-plot the official rate was 1Dm = 1DDRm, the 1 = 10 was the black market rate. This ratio applied all over Eastern Europe.
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Chugalug,
Reverting to your unfortunate experience with 491, it occurs to me that "I'm in no position to talk", as we used to say. At least you ended with a recognisable aeroplane, and were able to jump down and walk away (the only criterion of a "good landing" in our day). The downside must have been the sense of totally bewildered horror when you turned back and contemplated your recent handiwork. A TM ? - happens all the time. A Spitfire ? - all too easy. A Hastings - well that really is Something !
Whereas I, on my fateful day, finished up with a unrecognisable pile of scrap, was carried out, and took no interest in proceedings for quite a while. MEMO: must lay in a can of Guinness for the 70th Anniversary on 24.2.14....D.
To all who have added to our Store of Knowledge about Programmed Traffic Lights, Thanks !:
This is most interesting. Now, I come to think of it, I have a vague memory of the overhead "lights plus stop-watch" good idea in Germany. And when things were quiet at night, didn't they put the lot off and just have a flashing amber ?....D.
May have told this tale before (in which case apologies): the young Danny in Liverpool, with brand new roller skates, roamed the deserted city streets one Sunday afternoon . The City Fathers had recently installed the first sets of (big, fat rubber) traffic light road pads. Dad had told me how they worked.
Well, I just had to try it (what small boy could resist ?) Finding a quiet crossroads (Church St. was one, the cross at the point where it becomes Lord St. the other), I hopped up and down - and it worked !!
I'd built up quite a tailback of traffic on the other side, and was so engrossed in finding the most "tender" spot on the pad, that I failed to see that the driver in pole position, suddenly realising what was going on, had leaped out, run over to me, and delivered a stinging clout round the ear (you could do that then - '20s or '30s - to universal approval) which led me to desist. (Didn't dare tell Dad when I got home - might have got another "fourpenny one" !) But they were good days....D.
Camlobe,
Private Bedcovers and Quilts !? What is this Air Force coming to, Sir !...D.
26er,
How did you find the 403 ? (Was it not the wondercar of the day ? - after the DS19, of course). I'd like to know, please - and did you try the "Coupleur Jaeger" ?...D.
The Thread is running away from me now. ......Cheers,.... Danny.
Reverting to your unfortunate experience with 491, it occurs to me that "I'm in no position to talk", as we used to say. At least you ended with a recognisable aeroplane, and were able to jump down and walk away (the only criterion of a "good landing" in our day). The downside must have been the sense of totally bewildered horror when you turned back and contemplated your recent handiwork. A TM ? - happens all the time. A Spitfire ? - all too easy. A Hastings - well that really is Something !
Whereas I, on my fateful day, finished up with a unrecognisable pile of scrap, was carried out, and took no interest in proceedings for quite a while. MEMO: must lay in a can of Guinness for the 70th Anniversary on 24.2.14....D.
To all who have added to our Store of Knowledge about Programmed Traffic Lights, Thanks !:
This is most interesting. Now, I come to think of it, I have a vague memory of the overhead "lights plus stop-watch" good idea in Germany. And when things were quiet at night, didn't they put the lot off and just have a flashing amber ?....D.
May have told this tale before (in which case apologies): the young Danny in Liverpool, with brand new roller skates, roamed the deserted city streets one Sunday afternoon . The City Fathers had recently installed the first sets of (big, fat rubber) traffic light road pads. Dad had told me how they worked.
Well, I just had to try it (what small boy could resist ?) Finding a quiet crossroads (Church St. was one, the cross at the point where it becomes Lord St. the other), I hopped up and down - and it worked !!
I'd built up quite a tailback of traffic on the other side, and was so engrossed in finding the most "tender" spot on the pad, that I failed to see that the driver in pole position, suddenly realising what was going on, had leaped out, run over to me, and delivered a stinging clout round the ear (you could do that then - '20s or '30s - to universal approval) which led me to desist. (Didn't dare tell Dad when I got home - might have got another "fourpenny one" !) But they were good days....D.
Camlobe,
Private Bedcovers and Quilts !? What is this Air Force coming to, Sir !...D.
26er,
How did you find the 403 ? (Was it not the wondercar of the day ? - after the DS19, of course). I'd like to know, please - and did you try the "Coupleur Jaeger" ?...D.
The Thread is running away from me now. ......Cheers,.... Danny.
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Danny,
Your mention of the Skoda brought back another story from my police days.
Back in the late 80's we had a control position just for the M23 in Sussex and then it had a panel for the motorway phones (later transferred to Godstone Motorway Control).
One Sunday evening this was manned by a PC called Barry who took a call from a phone on the southbound. Conversation started off quite normal when all of a sudden Barry starts laughing his head off. Then we heard him say "That will teach you to buy a Skoda!".
Turned out this poor motorist, who did see the funny side of the incident, had been driving along when all of a sudden his back end gives a lurch and he sees his offside read wheel over taking him as he grinds to a halt.
Just as well not too much traffic around or it could have been a nasty one. Also it was before the advent of mobile phones as we know them now, we would have been flood with calls otherwise with few callers knowing exactly were they were.
Best wishes to all the regular tuners to this thread, may 2014 be as good as 2013 for the stories.
Your mention of the Skoda brought back another story from my police days.
Back in the late 80's we had a control position just for the M23 in Sussex and then it had a panel for the motorway phones (later transferred to Godstone Motorway Control).
One Sunday evening this was manned by a PC called Barry who took a call from a phone on the southbound. Conversation started off quite normal when all of a sudden Barry starts laughing his head off. Then we heard him say "That will teach you to buy a Skoda!".
Turned out this poor motorist, who did see the funny side of the incident, had been driving along when all of a sudden his back end gives a lurch and he sees his offside read wheel over taking him as he grinds to a halt.
Just as well not too much traffic around or it could have been a nasty one. Also it was before the advent of mobile phones as we know them now, we would have been flood with calls otherwise with few callers knowing exactly were they were.
Best wishes to all the regular tuners to this thread, may 2014 be as good as 2013 for the stories.
Camlobe
My only visit to the hospital was in 1959 — read on.....
Following my arrival home from Gan in December 1958, early the following year (1959) whilst stationed at R.A.F. Abingdon I was contacted by the station medical centre and told that I had to attend the R.A.F. Hospital at Halton for a medical examination; no reason was given and I was provided with a letter for me to report to the Institute of Pathology and Tropical Medicine at Halton. As it specialised in tropical medicine I suspected it was something to do with my recent service in the Far East, but otherwise I was puzzled by the need for the appointment.
Accordingly I attended the hospital, had a blood sample taken and was given a general medical examination. I was told I would be summoned back for further examination if any abnormalities were found — in the event about a month later I was sent for by the MO at R.A.F. Abingdon who told me everything was all clear and that I was not infected, only then was I told that there had been a scare that a case of Lymphatic Filariasis (Elephantiasis) had been diagnosed in a servicemen who’d been stationed at Gan with the result that I and others who’d served at Gan had had to be screened for possible infection.
Until then I’d no real knowledge about the disease, although I seem to recall that the walls of the waiting area at the Institute of Pathology and Tropical Medicine at Halton were adorned with gory photos of sufferers who exhibited the typical symptoms of the disease with gross deformities of the limbs and in men hugely enlarged Genitals (mainly the scrotum).
It is only relatively recently with the potential for research via the internet that I found that the R.A.F. had a real cause for concern about the health of airmen returning from Gan as an early 1950’s United Nations (WHO) study based on a survey of the southern atolls of the Maldives, including Addu Atoll where Gan is located, showed that Filariasis (Elephantiasis) was
endemic in all the villages (islands) of Addu Atoll with a filarial infection rate in the population of 14.1%.
United Nations (WHO) Addu Atoll Study
The introduction to the UN (WHO) research paper states:
Description of the Disease (from WHO Website)
...and from GSK who make the anti-parasitic drug Albendazole:
The following photograph is courtesy of GlaxoSmithKline who make the drug Albendazole an anti-parasitic drug that plays a role in helping stop the transmission of this disease.
RAF Halton had the previously mentioned hospital (ahh, nurses)
Following my arrival home from Gan in December 1958, early the following year (1959) whilst stationed at R.A.F. Abingdon I was contacted by the station medical centre and told that I had to attend the R.A.F. Hospital at Halton for a medical examination; no reason was given and I was provided with a letter for me to report to the Institute of Pathology and Tropical Medicine at Halton. As it specialised in tropical medicine I suspected it was something to do with my recent service in the Far East, but otherwise I was puzzled by the need for the appointment.
Accordingly I attended the hospital, had a blood sample taken and was given a general medical examination. I was told I would be summoned back for further examination if any abnormalities were found — in the event about a month later I was sent for by the MO at R.A.F. Abingdon who told me everything was all clear and that I was not infected, only then was I told that there had been a scare that a case of Lymphatic Filariasis (Elephantiasis) had been diagnosed in a servicemen who’d been stationed at Gan with the result that I and others who’d served at Gan had had to be screened for possible infection.
Until then I’d no real knowledge about the disease, although I seem to recall that the walls of the waiting area at the Institute of Pathology and Tropical Medicine at Halton were adorned with gory photos of sufferers who exhibited the typical symptoms of the disease with gross deformities of the limbs and in men hugely enlarged Genitals (mainly the scrotum).
It is only relatively recently with the potential for research via the internet that I found that the R.A.F. had a real cause for concern about the health of airmen returning from Gan as an early 1950’s United Nations (WHO) study based on a survey of the southern atolls of the Maldives, including Addu Atoll where Gan is located, showed that Filariasis (Elephantiasis) was
endemic in all the villages (islands) of Addu Atoll with a filarial infection rate in the population of 14.1%.
United Nations (WHO) Addu Atoll Study
The introduction to the UN (WHO) research paper states:
“Filariasis is an important public-health problem in the Maldive Islands. The World Health Organization received a request through the Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland for technical assistance in the eradication of the disease. To comply with this request, the decision was taken by the WHO to appoint a consultant on a short-term assignment to study the problem and to submit recommendations for the control of the disease. The author was appointed as the WHO Filariasis Consultant and, with the assistance of Dr. M. I. Mathew and Mr. M. A. U. Menon, carried out investigations during January to March 1951 on Filariasis in the Maldives.”
“Lymphatic filariasis is infection with the filarial worms, Wuchereria bancrofti, Brugia malayi or B. timori. These parasites are transmitted to humans through the bite of an infected mosquito and develop into adult worms in the lymphatic vessels, causing severe damage and swelling (lymphoedema). Elephantiasis, a painful disfiguring swelling of the legs and genital organs – is a classic sign of late-stage disease.”
Lymphatic filariasis, considered globally as a Neglected Tropical Disease, is a parasitic disease caused by microscopic, thread-like worms. The adult worms only live in the human lymph system. The lymph system maintains the body's fluid balance and fights infections. Lymphatic filariasis is spread from person to person by mosquitoes.
People with the disease can suffer from lymphedema and elephantiasis and in men, swelling of the scrotum, called hydrocele. Lymphatic filariasis is a leading cause of permanent disability worldwide. Communities frequently shun and reject women and men disfigured by the disease. Affected people frequently are unable to work because of their disability, and this harms their families and their communities.
People with the disease can suffer from lymphedema and elephantiasis and in men, swelling of the scrotum, called hydrocele. Lymphatic filariasis is a leading cause of permanent disability worldwide. Communities frequently shun and reject women and men disfigured by the disease. Affected people frequently are unable to work because of their disability, and this harms their families and their communities.