Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
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Another WWII RAF man still going strong
Spritely World War Two Lancaster bomber pilot given new role (From The Northern Echo)
PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)
PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)
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... and, of course, AP3357, Manual of Ground Controlled Approach 
As an LEO in both Terminal and Area, it was amazing how much information we used to be able to hold in our heads for instant recall. Although I was personally helped by having been the editor of all 10 MATO Unit SOPs, and MATO ASIs, for a couple of years - I guess writing it made it easier to remember the details.
Although ... a certain West Country sqn ldr managed almost total recall. Phrases such as "If you look at MATO ASIs, Chapter 4, paragraph 27a, you might discover that you are wrong"
As an LEO in both Terminal and Area, it was amazing how much information we used to be able to hold in our heads for instant recall. Although I was personally helped by having been the editor of all 10 MATO Unit SOPs, and MATO ASIs, for a couple of years - I guess writing it made it easier to remember the details.
Although ... a certain West Country sqn ldr managed almost total recall. Phrases such as "If you look at MATO ASIs, Chapter 4, paragraph 27a, you might discover that you are wrong"
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Geriaviator,
Much food for thought in the Times article you quote. It is interesting to learn that the hippocampus is responsible for long-term memory; what I want to know is: what part carries the can for short-term memory (mine seems to have gone AWOL some time ago).
So you were able to grab the twig again after a 24-year interval - congratulations ! Seriously, tell us all about it. I'd always heard that: "it's like riding a bike - you never forget", but there's precious little chance of my riding a bike now, never mind waving "chocks away" after 60 years ! Still, I think I'd get on all right once I got into the cockpit, it's just the small problems of getting there and getting in that would present insuperable difficulties. Eheu, fugaces !
And, like you, I hark back to the primitive days when we were content with stick, rudder and throttle. Nowadays things are different. I remember, some time ago, a Thread about the most recent batch of FJ graduates from Valley (all four of them !) Included was a shot of an AVM in a Hawk II (simulator ?) cockpit. Looking over his left shoulder, I peered at the panel as a hog might stare at a piano. Nothing was familiar except a dial which might have been an Artificial Horizon - that was all.
I've been following the sad Air Asia Indonesian story on the "Rumours and News" Forum and am appalled by the complexity and the extent to which on board computers and automatic systems seem almost to have edged the pilots out of the control loop. I know that they are designed to stop even the most stupid of humans from endangering the aircraft, but a computer cannot think "outside the box" (and there are times when someone must). And the parallels with the AF447 case are all too striking.
In our day, we had a rudder bar, a rudder and two pieces of string between (and the same for the other two control surfaces). Now I've just read somewhere that the B737 (the DC-3 of the 21st Century) has no rudder control once hydraulic power to the activator has failed. Not even our bits of string. This can't be true, surely ? What they're saying is: "This aircraft cannot be flown manually if all systems fail". Hope I'm wrong.
Now, books v. Kindle. Chacun à son gôut ! But there comes a time when your bookshelves are full, all available flat surfaces are covered with piles of books, and you have to start on the floor !
With that sobering thought,
Cheers, Danny.
Much food for thought in the Times article you quote. It is interesting to learn that the hippocampus is responsible for long-term memory; what I want to know is: what part carries the can for short-term memory (mine seems to have gone AWOL some time ago).
So you were able to grab the twig again after a 24-year interval - congratulations ! Seriously, tell us all about it. I'd always heard that: "it's like riding a bike - you never forget", but there's precious little chance of my riding a bike now, never mind waving "chocks away" after 60 years ! Still, I think I'd get on all right once I got into the cockpit, it's just the small problems of getting there and getting in that would present insuperable difficulties. Eheu, fugaces !
And, like you, I hark back to the primitive days when we were content with stick, rudder and throttle. Nowadays things are different. I remember, some time ago, a Thread about the most recent batch of FJ graduates from Valley (all four of them !) Included was a shot of an AVM in a Hawk II (simulator ?) cockpit. Looking over his left shoulder, I peered at the panel as a hog might stare at a piano. Nothing was familiar except a dial which might have been an Artificial Horizon - that was all.
I've been following the sad Air Asia Indonesian story on the "Rumours and News" Forum and am appalled by the complexity and the extent to which on board computers and automatic systems seem almost to have edged the pilots out of the control loop. I know that they are designed to stop even the most stupid of humans from endangering the aircraft, but a computer cannot think "outside the box" (and there are times when someone must). And the parallels with the AF447 case are all too striking.
In our day, we had a rudder bar, a rudder and two pieces of string between (and the same for the other two control surfaces). Now I've just read somewhere that the B737 (the DC-3 of the 21st Century) has no rudder control once hydraulic power to the activator has failed. Not even our bits of string. This can't be true, surely ? What they're saying is: "This aircraft cannot be flown manually if all systems fail". Hope I'm wrong.
Now, books v. Kindle. Chacun à son gôut ! But there comes a time when your bookshelves are full, all available flat surfaces are covered with piles of books, and you have to start on the floor !
With that sobering thought,
Cheers, Danny.
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FantomZorbin ... no doubt about it, Mangel-Worzel had a frighteningly unusual mind. I remember him coming into the crew-room at Eastern Radar when we were playing Bridge [as we did, when off-console] with some comment along the lines of "Those under training should be making better use of their time - there's a copy of Air Staff Instructions on that bookshelf, and several Unit Standard Operating Procedures". He would never use abbreviations!
He probably turned me into the bitch of an LEO on my 2nd tour, as Senior Supervisor and OC Training Sqn, where I had the misfortune to have to sack two new sqn ldrs posted in as Sups. When the 3rd one came along, Jim P [then SOpsO and the other LEO] said "I'll check this one out." His call.
We were supposed to have 2 sqn ldrs on a 2-watch system. In over 2 years we never achieved that, as 'the system' kept sending us newly-trained Area sqn ldrs who hadn't got a chance in hell of coping with a Unit that handled 50% of MATO's total traffic in highly-congested and intensive airspace. I felt sorry for the guys who were thrown in at the deep end, but there was no way you could let them swim in that shark-infested pool.
He probably turned me into the bitch of an LEO on my 2nd tour, as Senior Supervisor and OC Training Sqn, where I had the misfortune to have to sack two new sqn ldrs posted in as Sups. When the 3rd one came along, Jim P [then SOpsO and the other LEO] said "I'll check this one out." His call.
We were supposed to have 2 sqn ldrs on a 2-watch system. In over 2 years we never achieved that, as 'the system' kept sending us newly-trained Area sqn ldrs who hadn't got a chance in hell of coping with a Unit that handled 50% of MATO's total traffic in highly-congested and intensive airspace. I felt sorry for the guys who were thrown in at the deep end, but there was no way you could let them swim in that shark-infested pool.
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Hong Kong, 1946 (part 1)
For a change, this part contains nothing directly related to aviation but instead describes our very different way of life following arrival in Hong Kong in early May 1946.
After weeks of living in dusty, fly-blown tents the change in lifestyle offered by 96 Sqdn's transfer to HK was profound, and most welcome into the bargain. The Sergeants' mess was situated in several blocks of flats off Argyle Street, a main thoroughfare directly in line with RW25 and thus leading to Nathan Road and the centre of Kowloon, my crew particularly fortunate in being allocated a flat in the nearby Eu Gardens, a modern 2-storey art-deco block possessing proper plumbing including running h&c plus a working fridge – our quality of life thus instantly taking a distinct upturn, as compared with anything offered by the Burmese ulu!
Indeed, for whatever reason Hong Kong appeared to be recovering from its wartime travails far quicker than Singapore, and was in another world as compared with dumps such as Rangoon. Restaurants of various types proliferated, serving quality fare at reasonable prices with cuisine ranging from Oriental to Russian, while the whole place even then gave more than a hint of the general 'buzz' that so typified it in later years. However the Tsim Sha Tsui central area was then much less commercialised than now, to the extent that zones such as Cameron Road and its environs were almost 100% residential with a mixture of villas, small blocks of flats and buildings such as the 1920s style Arlington Hotel (taken over by the RAF for use as a transit facility, its site to be later occupied by the Park Hotel); indeed, many properties even had small front gardens, property values obviously being much lower in those days! Across the harbour (as ever, courtesy of the Star Ferry) the central area of Victoria with its solid banking houses, mercantile buildings, colonial-style supreme court and other government offices all gave a distinct air of 'the Empire is here to stay', while the antiquated, top-heavy tramcars (incredibly still running today) provided a somewhat nostalgic link with home.
Behind all this arose the well-wooded slopes of Victoria Peak and conjoined summits, their virgin surface yet unsullied by the numerous concrete monoliths of today, while the few buildings that perched on or near the top in the vicinity of the Peak Tramway terminus were bare, empty ruins. Given that the city below appeared to be unmarked by war the contrast was initially difficult to understand, but in fact had a simple explanation: during the gap between cessation of hostilities and re-occupation by our own forces the Japs had virtually relinquished any attempt at keeping public order, and so the local populace had stripped them bare of everything – roofing, plumbing, wiring, furniture & fittings and, most desirable of all, the timber, there being a desperate shortage of all these items.
At ground level the most obvious deficiency for our daily living was lack of most forms of public transport. With the MTR long in the future the few buses, always grossly overloaded and with engine covers removed to aid cooling, groaned along belching clouds of smoke while taxis were almost non-existent, so either one hitched a ride off any military vehicle that came in sight or relied on human power - not rickshaws (too slow), but either a tricycle or plain bike. The trikes carried two in front on a seat between the wheels and were none too safe, while as for the bike one perched on a pillion seat with the rider sweating away in front; neither were a comfortable mode of travel, but had the advantage of being relatively cheap. Which leads to the topic of money, which in Hong Kong at that time seemed to involve the use of more paper than anywhere else, a situation exacerbated by there being no coinage whatever - only notes, yes even a note for 1c! Furthermore, denominations of $10 or above were issued by no less than three commercial banks rather than the government so inevitably, given an exchange rate of something like $16HK to the £, one's few pockets became somewhat stuffed with bumf.
Those familiar with the region will know this was the height of the hot season with its drenching humidity and frequent heavy rain, yet there were sufficient spells of reasonable weather to allow the only sensible form of exercise in such a climate – swimming. Although there was a shortage of wheeled transport in the civil world, the services seemed to have enough of the inevitable 3-tonners to spare for regular runs to selected sites – usually either a sandy beach somewhere to the west of Kowloon, or another spot with a diving platform over the hills behind the airfield. Undefiled by the litter and detritus of later years, and almost totally devoid of other humans whether Euro or local, they offered a pleasant swim in clean water, even if one did have to keep an eye open for the occasional sea snake.
Us SNCOs being accommodated two or more miles distant from the airfield we normally attended Squadron HQ only when required for duty, a sensible policy deserving of wider use. This HQ was initially in a somewhat ramshackle wooden building that was later obliterated by a typhoon (more on this event later) with its contents, including the log books of around 95% of our aircrew, scattered to the four winds; however, fearing such a calamity, I had previously disregarded what I considered a pointless and stupid order that all log books should be kept therein and was thus spared having to 'guesstimate' my flying record when fabricating a new one.
However it was not long before one drawback to my recent elevation in rank became apparent, that of being eligible for the chore of Orderly Officer. Aside from the usual duties associated with this office, on certain days it involved having to pay the civilian cleaning staff - not on base, but for some strange reason in a corrugated iron building on the other side of the main road. So, having collected a Chinese clerk and the necessary funds, the pair of us would trudge through a vegetable garden to reach this strange place that reputedly housed a few reclusive (but never seen) nuns, where from a bare table I doled out money as called out by the clerk. The recipients were female, all clad in the pyjama-like dress worn by working Chinese women of those days, but what mainly struck me was the miserably low pay that was their lot – usually in the order of $15HK (barely £1) for what was presumably a week's work – no wonder they all looked so glum. Then there was the curious incident of the enraged senior naval officer, who blasted me down the phone because he had found a local using his private loo; exactly what I was supposed to do about it was not clear, as I was on the RAF side of the airfield (with no transport) and he on the other, non-RAF side.
So altogether life was on a different level as compared to our previous existence, especially to the unaccustomed but much-appreciated availability of adequate supplies of beer – the San Mig brewery having (praise be) survived the war unharmed!
In the next & final post I will attempt to describe some aspects of operating what was in effect a sort of rather threadbare military airline covering a very large area using aircraft barely adequate for the job; however, as this has yet to be committed to paper or any other media, it may not appear for a few weeks yet.
After weeks of living in dusty, fly-blown tents the change in lifestyle offered by 96 Sqdn's transfer to HK was profound, and most welcome into the bargain. The Sergeants' mess was situated in several blocks of flats off Argyle Street, a main thoroughfare directly in line with RW25 and thus leading to Nathan Road and the centre of Kowloon, my crew particularly fortunate in being allocated a flat in the nearby Eu Gardens, a modern 2-storey art-deco block possessing proper plumbing including running h&c plus a working fridge – our quality of life thus instantly taking a distinct upturn, as compared with anything offered by the Burmese ulu!
Indeed, for whatever reason Hong Kong appeared to be recovering from its wartime travails far quicker than Singapore, and was in another world as compared with dumps such as Rangoon. Restaurants of various types proliferated, serving quality fare at reasonable prices with cuisine ranging from Oriental to Russian, while the whole place even then gave more than a hint of the general 'buzz' that so typified it in later years. However the Tsim Sha Tsui central area was then much less commercialised than now, to the extent that zones such as Cameron Road and its environs were almost 100% residential with a mixture of villas, small blocks of flats and buildings such as the 1920s style Arlington Hotel (taken over by the RAF for use as a transit facility, its site to be later occupied by the Park Hotel); indeed, many properties even had small front gardens, property values obviously being much lower in those days! Across the harbour (as ever, courtesy of the Star Ferry) the central area of Victoria with its solid banking houses, mercantile buildings, colonial-style supreme court and other government offices all gave a distinct air of 'the Empire is here to stay', while the antiquated, top-heavy tramcars (incredibly still running today) provided a somewhat nostalgic link with home.
Behind all this arose the well-wooded slopes of Victoria Peak and conjoined summits, their virgin surface yet unsullied by the numerous concrete monoliths of today, while the few buildings that perched on or near the top in the vicinity of the Peak Tramway terminus were bare, empty ruins. Given that the city below appeared to be unmarked by war the contrast was initially difficult to understand, but in fact had a simple explanation: during the gap between cessation of hostilities and re-occupation by our own forces the Japs had virtually relinquished any attempt at keeping public order, and so the local populace had stripped them bare of everything – roofing, plumbing, wiring, furniture & fittings and, most desirable of all, the timber, there being a desperate shortage of all these items.
At ground level the most obvious deficiency for our daily living was lack of most forms of public transport. With the MTR long in the future the few buses, always grossly overloaded and with engine covers removed to aid cooling, groaned along belching clouds of smoke while taxis were almost non-existent, so either one hitched a ride off any military vehicle that came in sight or relied on human power - not rickshaws (too slow), but either a tricycle or plain bike. The trikes carried two in front on a seat between the wheels and were none too safe, while as for the bike one perched on a pillion seat with the rider sweating away in front; neither were a comfortable mode of travel, but had the advantage of being relatively cheap. Which leads to the topic of money, which in Hong Kong at that time seemed to involve the use of more paper than anywhere else, a situation exacerbated by there being no coinage whatever - only notes, yes even a note for 1c! Furthermore, denominations of $10 or above were issued by no less than three commercial banks rather than the government so inevitably, given an exchange rate of something like $16HK to the £, one's few pockets became somewhat stuffed with bumf.
Those familiar with the region will know this was the height of the hot season with its drenching humidity and frequent heavy rain, yet there were sufficient spells of reasonable weather to allow the only sensible form of exercise in such a climate – swimming. Although there was a shortage of wheeled transport in the civil world, the services seemed to have enough of the inevitable 3-tonners to spare for regular runs to selected sites – usually either a sandy beach somewhere to the west of Kowloon, or another spot with a diving platform over the hills behind the airfield. Undefiled by the litter and detritus of later years, and almost totally devoid of other humans whether Euro or local, they offered a pleasant swim in clean water, even if one did have to keep an eye open for the occasional sea snake.
Us SNCOs being accommodated two or more miles distant from the airfield we normally attended Squadron HQ only when required for duty, a sensible policy deserving of wider use. This HQ was initially in a somewhat ramshackle wooden building that was later obliterated by a typhoon (more on this event later) with its contents, including the log books of around 95% of our aircrew, scattered to the four winds; however, fearing such a calamity, I had previously disregarded what I considered a pointless and stupid order that all log books should be kept therein and was thus spared having to 'guesstimate' my flying record when fabricating a new one.
However it was not long before one drawback to my recent elevation in rank became apparent, that of being eligible for the chore of Orderly Officer. Aside from the usual duties associated with this office, on certain days it involved having to pay the civilian cleaning staff - not on base, but for some strange reason in a corrugated iron building on the other side of the main road. So, having collected a Chinese clerk and the necessary funds, the pair of us would trudge through a vegetable garden to reach this strange place that reputedly housed a few reclusive (but never seen) nuns, where from a bare table I doled out money as called out by the clerk. The recipients were female, all clad in the pyjama-like dress worn by working Chinese women of those days, but what mainly struck me was the miserably low pay that was their lot – usually in the order of $15HK (barely £1) for what was presumably a week's work – no wonder they all looked so glum. Then there was the curious incident of the enraged senior naval officer, who blasted me down the phone because he had found a local using his private loo; exactly what I was supposed to do about it was not clear, as I was on the RAF side of the airfield (with no transport) and he on the other, non-RAF side.
So altogether life was on a different level as compared to our previous existence, especially to the unaccustomed but much-appreciated availability of adequate supplies of beer – the San Mig brewery having (praise be) survived the war unharmed!
In the next & final post I will attempt to describe some aspects of operating what was in effect a sort of rather threadbare military airline covering a very large area using aircraft barely adequate for the job; however, as this has yet to be committed to paper or any other media, it may not appear for a few weeks yet.
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OMG, paying the Civilian Staff ... the nightmare of being Orderly Officer at Tengah.
Accounts issued, meticulously, the correct number of notes and coins according to their formula [in the days before spreadsheets] - everyone's pay, to the $/c, and then combined in a bloody great bag. And one was paying c. 200 people!
So if one carelessly gave Mr Wong 2 x $5 instead of 1 x $10, you were doomed ... you ran out of change. I learned the hard way, and subsequently always carried out that duty with wallet/pockets full of small bills and coins to correct any errors upstream!
Accounts issued, meticulously, the correct number of notes and coins according to their formula [in the days before spreadsheets] - everyone's pay, to the $/c, and then combined in a bloody great bag. And one was paying c. 200 people!
So if one carelessly gave Mr Wong 2 x $5 instead of 1 x $10, you were doomed ... you ran out of change. I learned the hard way, and subsequently always carried out that duty with wallet/pockets full of small bills and coins to correct any errors upstream!
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Filthy Lucre.
"OMG, paying the ciivilian Staff" !
Seconded, MPN11 ! As I've related some time ago, I had the same problem paying my chaps in Cannanore, and in an earlier, pre-war existence, it was my lot to have to pay out hundreds of small sums which included 2/- and 1/- coins nearly every time. "Coinage" really meant something in those days, and all calculated without the aid of computers.
harrym,
Thanks for another enthralling Post ! You seem to have hit the jackpot this time and no mistake. But, as you and I and many others found, elevation to the peerage brought with it all manner of irksome duties, among them being "Officer i/c of Something or Other" (usually the worst job of the lot), which your seniors had made vacant for you by some crafty reshuffling prior to your arrival in the Mess.
At HK$ 16/£, it was much the same as my Rs14/£, and, like you, we had a tiny Rs1 note, but as we paid our chaps to the nearest Rs5 below it wasn't too difficult.
Looking back, the discrepancy between the incomes of the Sahib (or Tuan ?) and the locals takes the breath away. A (newly qualified) Indian doctor or teacher would be content with Rs20 per month: as a Sgt/Pilot I was on Rs280 p.m. and as a F/0 Rs600 (All Right for Some !)
Looking forward to your next instalment,
Cheers, Danny.
Seconded, MPN11 ! As I've related some time ago, I had the same problem paying my chaps in Cannanore, and in an earlier, pre-war existence, it was my lot to have to pay out hundreds of small sums which included 2/- and 1/- coins nearly every time. "Coinage" really meant something in those days, and all calculated without the aid of computers.
harrym,
Thanks for another enthralling Post ! You seem to have hit the jackpot this time and no mistake. But, as you and I and many others found, elevation to the peerage brought with it all manner of irksome duties, among them being "Officer i/c of Something or Other" (usually the worst job of the lot), which your seniors had made vacant for you by some crafty reshuffling prior to your arrival in the Mess.
At HK$ 16/£, it was much the same as my Rs14/£, and, like you, we had a tiny Rs1 note, but as we paid our chaps to the nearest Rs5 below it wasn't too difficult.
Looking back, the discrepancy between the incomes of the Sahib (or Tuan ?) and the locals takes the breath away. A (newly qualified) Indian doctor or teacher would be content with Rs20 per month: as a Sgt/Pilot I was on Rs280 p.m. and as a F/0 Rs600 (All Right for Some !)
Looking forward to your next instalment,
Cheers, Danny.
Last edited by Danny42C; 7th Feb 2015 at 19:15. Reason: Typo.
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Hong Kong 1946
Yes Danny, you are right about the 'irksome duties' - the Orderley Officer job seemed to come rather more often for us of warrant rank, than should have been the case on a pro rata basis! An additional nuisance was that our mess being off base, we had to lodge for the night on station in a sort of broom cupboard containing little else than a bed (uncomfortable) and a telephone.
Rubbish!!!
Being Orderly Officer was a bonus. In the dark days of Bomber Command in the 60s the ration arrangements were simple. The truck went to the Sergeant's Mess, the Airmen's Mess, the Operations Canteen and the rest was thrown at the Officers. As Orderly Officer one had to inspect the Airmens meals accompanied by the Orderly Sergeant with his red sash.
One of the privileges of an Orderly Officer was, if he so desired, was to partake in the substance offered to the airmen. In my case there was no argument. A table would be laid and would I sit down to a meal that would have been incomprehensible in the Officers Mess.
I could never understand why, after months of junk being offered to us, the same chefs, with the same raw materials, could produce absolute magic at the Summer Ball.
Being Orderly Officer was a bonus. In the dark days of Bomber Command in the 60s the ration arrangements were simple. The truck went to the Sergeant's Mess, the Airmen's Mess, the Operations Canteen and the rest was thrown at the Officers. As Orderly Officer one had to inspect the Airmens meals accompanied by the Orderly Sergeant with his red sash.
One of the privileges of an Orderly Officer was, if he so desired, was to partake in the substance offered to the airmen. In my case there was no argument. A table would be laid and would I sit down to a meal that would have been incomprehensible in the Officers Mess.
I could never understand why, after months of junk being offered to us, the same chefs, with the same raw materials, could produce absolute magic at the Summer Ball.
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 8th Feb 2015 at 09:38.
Thank you for the kind words about my tale, which I've been happy to put on these pages, over the last three years, and I am content to continue in this way.
Cheers, Danny.
Cheers, Danny.
Dorothy Parker was another with the writer's gift -
Had Dorothy Parker been a supercentenarian, she would have been 120 today, and she surely would have had some great observations about life in 2013. Many of her quotes are utterly timeless.
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FantomZorbin ... no doubt about it, Mangel-Worzel had a frighteningly unusual mind. I remember him coming into the crew-room at Eastern Radar when we were playing Bridge [as we did, when off-console] with some comment along the lines of "Those under training should be making better use of their time - there's a copy of Air Staff Instructions on that bookshelf, and several Unit Standard Operating Procedures". He would never use abbreviations!
and those annoying emicons
imagine Shakespeare dotted with them
" /> 
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Reg's Book
Re:
I was very happy to read Reg's original posts to this thread and now am just as happy to read his book. I am glad that those who prefer paper and those that prefer eBooks have access to this material. I will point out that those who are interested can get a free sample of the first two dozen or so pages by selecting the Kindle edition and using the "Try it free" button.
One thing I didn't recall from the original threads here was that Reg read the sports on the BBC World Service for a while. That man had an amazing set of experiences in his life.
One thing I didn't recall from the original threads here was that Reg read the sports on the BBC World Service for a while. That man had an amazing set of experiences in his life.
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I posted something similar once, when Reg was still with us:
"Halifax skipper, airline pilot, air traffic controller, newsreader... is there anything you DIDN'T do??"
To which the great man replied,
"You ain't seen nothing yet!"
And he was right!
"Halifax skipper, airline pilot, air traffic controller, newsreader... is there anything you DIDN'T do??"
To which the great man replied,
"You ain't seen nothing yet!"
And he was right!
Padhist's post #2244 -
One amusing incident I recall from the many of those days was...The night Sgt C……. put into action his plan to take his wife up in a Prentice to see the station by night. Now, at the end of the main runway there was an old wartime bunker and it was used frequently by students and instructors during long periods of circuits and landings, they used to nip out of the aircraft, having advised Air Traffic Control, that they were clear of the ‘Peri-track ‘ and have a leak!!...Well the plan was that Mrs. Carlisle would wait behind this bunker all kitted up in flying gear and at some stage Carlisle's student would nip out and she would take his place in the aircraft, do a couple of circuits and return to effect the exchange back.....Now the best laid plans----What in fact happened was that another aircraft stopped and it's student got out, came to the bunker and was happily having his leak when he realised he was not alone!!....However thinking the other GUY was another student he continued with his enjoyment and just entered into a conversation on how the cold affected his ability to find his willy beneath all his flying clothing....Needless to say Mrs. C……. never said a word. But she did eventually get her trip, and did enjoy the sights.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reading this reminded me of a somewhat similar story.
There was in the RAAF in 1938 a young pilot, FLT LT Ken Ekins. He was attached to HMAS Sydney as pilot of the ship's Walrus (Seagull V in RAAF service). While in dock in Hobart the admiral of the fleet was piped aboard for a tour of inspection. As he walked up the companionway with the captain of the Sydney he could not help but see a fishing rod poking out of an open porthole. Almost apoplectic, the admiral demanded of the captain an explanation. I am sorry to say, sir, that on the other end of that fishing rod is Flight Lieutenant Ekins of the Royal Australian Air Force. He seems to have a poor attitude to naval discipline or orders. He said to one of my officers this morning, that he intended to catch the admiral a bucket of bream.
Ken Ekins, during that Hobart visit, attended a Bachelor and Spinster's ball. There he met his future wife, Eileen, a long time resident of the village of Richmond, Tasmania. After their marriage they lived for a while in married quarters on the RAAF base at Richmond, NSW. I had the story from Mrs Ekins that one night she made her way to a far corner of the aerodrome so as to wait for the Walrus with which Ken would take his bride for her first flight. This duly happened. She added to her story by saying, with a blush, that after they landed, taxied and shut down in the same spot, Ken became rather amorous. Mrs Ekins believed that their first child was conceived that night.
Both the Ekins are deceased, so if anyone queries the accuracy of this story,
I will have to say it's a FOAF (Friend of a Friend).
My daughter is presently 'going out' with a grandson of the Ekins. He had no idea about his grandfather's service in the RAAF.
Somewhere I have filed away a good photo of Ken taken in Sydney Harbour in 1938. He is sitting on the top wing of a Walrus as the Shagbat is being winched aboard a warship. I shall post it here when I find it.
One amusing incident I recall from the many of those days was...The night Sgt C……. put into action his plan to take his wife up in a Prentice to see the station by night. Now, at the end of the main runway there was an old wartime bunker and it was used frequently by students and instructors during long periods of circuits and landings, they used to nip out of the aircraft, having advised Air Traffic Control, that they were clear of the ‘Peri-track ‘ and have a leak!!...Well the plan was that Mrs. Carlisle would wait behind this bunker all kitted up in flying gear and at some stage Carlisle's student would nip out and she would take his place in the aircraft, do a couple of circuits and return to effect the exchange back.....Now the best laid plans----What in fact happened was that another aircraft stopped and it's student got out, came to the bunker and was happily having his leak when he realised he was not alone!!....However thinking the other GUY was another student he continued with his enjoyment and just entered into a conversation on how the cold affected his ability to find his willy beneath all his flying clothing....Needless to say Mrs. C……. never said a word. But she did eventually get her trip, and did enjoy the sights.
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Reading this reminded me of a somewhat similar story.
There was in the RAAF in 1938 a young pilot, FLT LT Ken Ekins. He was attached to HMAS Sydney as pilot of the ship's Walrus (Seagull V in RAAF service). While in dock in Hobart the admiral of the fleet was piped aboard for a tour of inspection. As he walked up the companionway with the captain of the Sydney he could not help but see a fishing rod poking out of an open porthole. Almost apoplectic, the admiral demanded of the captain an explanation. I am sorry to say, sir, that on the other end of that fishing rod is Flight Lieutenant Ekins of the Royal Australian Air Force. He seems to have a poor attitude to naval discipline or orders. He said to one of my officers this morning, that he intended to catch the admiral a bucket of bream.
Ken Ekins, during that Hobart visit, attended a Bachelor and Spinster's ball. There he met his future wife, Eileen, a long time resident of the village of Richmond, Tasmania. After their marriage they lived for a while in married quarters on the RAAF base at Richmond, NSW. I had the story from Mrs Ekins that one night she made her way to a far corner of the aerodrome so as to wait for the Walrus with which Ken would take his bride for her first flight. This duly happened. She added to her story by saying, with a blush, that after they landed, taxied and shut down in the same spot, Ken became rather amorous. Mrs Ekins believed that their first child was conceived that night.
Both the Ekins are deceased, so if anyone queries the accuracy of this story,
I will have to say it's a FOAF (Friend of a Friend).
My daughter is presently 'going out' with a grandson of the Ekins. He had no idea about his grandfather's service in the RAAF.
Somewhere I have filed away a good photo of Ken taken in Sydney Harbour in 1938. He is sitting on the top wing of a Walrus as the Shagbat is being winched aboard a warship. I shall post it here when I find it.
1935: Seagull V , A2-2, arrives at Portsmouth for HMAS SYDNEY , seen waiting to receive it - (Photo RAN Historical).
Last edited by Fantome; 10th Feb 2015 at 01:50.
Hong Kong at little later
HarryM
All this talk of Hong Kong got me scrabbling through my album for some photos of the "Checkerboard" approach, OK it was well after your sojourn there, but for those not familiar with it here's what it looked like from the cockpit in 1979.
I always marvelled at the way B-747's with 100's of pax made their turn at low level to line up with the runway as here:
All this talk of Hong Kong got me scrabbling through my album for some photos of the "Checkerboard" approach, OK it was well after your sojourn there, but for those not familiar with it here's what it looked like from the cockpit in 1979.
I always marvelled at the way B-747's with 100's of pax made their turn at low level to line up with the runway as here:
Last edited by Warmtoast; 10th Feb 2015 at 22:05.
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Hong Kong
Warmtoast - great pix, brought back many memories and thanks for posting them up; loss of the checkerboard approach has removed a unique experience from the world of aviation!
When I was based in Shenzhen I had to fly one of those approaches once a month to keep my rating in date. Bring a training trip we could only do it at the crack of dawn and the procedural circuit was incredibly long and high. It was a real pain in the neck and the scenario around the checkerboard was wasted.
However medivacs at night gave one a fantastic view of Hong Kong with all the lights on. Should we pick up a Chinese National from a platform we were routed low level directly across Victoria Harbour, then between Lantou and the New Territories to the Pearl River and onwards to Guangzhou. They built a bridge across to Chep Lap Kok but it didn't seem to make any difference to our transit height.
Departing from Shenzhen and crossing Hong Kong outbound you could tell when you crossed the border between China and Hong Kong. The Neons changed from all red to another series of colours.
However medivacs at night gave one a fantastic view of Hong Kong with all the lights on. Should we pick up a Chinese National from a platform we were routed low level directly across Victoria Harbour, then between Lantou and the New Territories to the Pearl River and onwards to Guangzhou. They built a bridge across to Chep Lap Kok but it didn't seem to make any difference to our transit height.
Departing from Shenzhen and crossing Hong Kong outbound you could tell when you crossed the border between China and Hong Kong. The Neons changed from all red to another series of colours.