Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
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MPN11 (#9715),
How well do I remember them - both as an aspiring and (much later) refreshee aviator (but never did any apart from that), and of course in ATC. (As 'watchkeepers', it was up to us to arrange our own mealtimes, so we were excluded from the feasts).
They were usually laid on in the interval between the first (dual) phase of the programme and the second (solo) phase. On the first night, the diners were unnaturally quiet. The QFIs tucked-in with gusto, they had foiled their Bloggs' best efforts to kill them both. They would see another dawn.
Bloggs was not at all sure that he would. The JP (or whatever) he was happy with by day now sat in silent menace under the cold pan lights, waiting for him. The sadist under whose vocal lash he had suffered these past weeks was now magically transmuted into a "Guardian Angel" figure. Bloggs thought of the empty seat soon to be beside him and shuddered.
"Go not gentle into that dark night".....Bloggs had lost his appetite, he picked at his food. "If you don't want that last rasher, old chap", said his Instructor cheerfully, "I'll finish it for you"......
Strange things happened in this Limbo. It was in just such a time that I spotted the "UFO that never was" at Leeming and the No.1 Hangar Ghost put in an appearance on one occasion.
Only birds and fools fly, and the birds pack it in when it gets dark. (Anon).
...............................
speke softly (#9718),
What a palace the new Local looked to be ! (you could fit a full size billiard table in there).
Had they moved up from the 'Elsan', btw ?
Thanks, both.
Danny.
"Ahh, Night Flying......doing Night Flying Suppers..."
They were usually laid on in the interval between the first (dual) phase of the programme and the second (solo) phase. On the first night, the diners were unnaturally quiet. The QFIs tucked-in with gusto, they had foiled their Bloggs' best efforts to kill them both. They would see another dawn.
Bloggs was not at all sure that he would. The JP (or whatever) he was happy with by day now sat in silent menace under the cold pan lights, waiting for him. The sadist under whose vocal lash he had suffered these past weeks was now magically transmuted into a "Guardian Angel" figure. Bloggs thought of the empty seat soon to be beside him and shuddered.
"Go not gentle into that dark night".....Bloggs had lost his appetite, he picked at his food. "If you don't want that last rasher, old chap", said his Instructor cheerfully, "I'll finish it for you"......
Strange things happened in this Limbo. It was in just such a time that I spotted the "UFO that never was" at Leeming and the No.1 Hangar Ghost put in an appearance on one occasion.
Only birds and fools fly, and the birds pack it in when it gets dark. (Anon).
...............................
speke softly (#9718),
What a palace the new Local looked to be ! (you could fit a full size billiard table in there).
Had they moved up from the 'Elsan', btw ?
Thanks, both.
Danny.
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I just find it fascinating, in the true spirit of this Thread (albeit post-WW2), to find I have trodden in such notable footprints at that obscure (and long-forgotten) corner of Lincolnshire!
For me, it was simple. I drove from MY to SB at my own expense (CBA to wait for the bus at either end) as a Plt Off with a car (posh git) and signed on Watch. It was then a few hours of the usual ATCO blathering before going 'home' again. I'm not sure I ever really thought much about what the guys were actually doing ... they just gave me a job to do, and I got on with it!
I guess the sound and smell of Hercules engines couging into life, the twinking lights on the airfield (under My Total Control) and the Pundit blinking away on the north side in a disused horseshoe disperal had a certain charm. The best bit, when the last night-flyer' landed, was sequencing the switching off of the assorted airfield lights (through that monstrously latge and complex lighting console) and chasing them to dispersal. I only overtook the aircraft once, and was rather more careful after that!!
I always enjoyed Local more than any other control position. Yellow blips on a CRT are no substitute for seeing reality, even if on occasion it causes you to hit the Crash Alarm.
For me, it was simple. I drove from MY to SB at my own expense (CBA to wait for the bus at either end) as a Plt Off with a car (posh git) and signed on Watch. It was then a few hours of the usual ATCO blathering before going 'home' again. I'm not sure I ever really thought much about what the guys were actually doing ... they just gave me a job to do, and I got on with it!
I guess the sound and smell of Hercules engines couging into life, the twinking lights on the airfield (under My Total Control) and the Pundit blinking away on the north side in a disused horseshoe disperal had a certain charm. The best bit, when the last night-flyer' landed, was sequencing the switching off of the assorted airfield lights (through that monstrously latge and complex lighting console) and chasing them to dispersal. I only overtook the aircraft once, and was rather more careful after that!!
I always enjoyed Local more than any other control position. Yellow blips on a CRT are no substitute for seeing reality, even if on occasion it causes you to hit the Crash Alarm.
Last edited by MPN11; 20th Nov 2016 at 18:22.
Hempy, thank you for the link to the Border Mail. Good to see another WWII pilot riding in the office that he last occupied in 1944, albeit now refurbished with a two piece suite. I assume this was a later mod, a la the Spits?
As Danny has told us before, dual instruction on the Spit amounted to learning and being tested on the contents of Pilots Notes, with a bit of advice from the left wing root with the canopy open thrown in prior to first flight/solo.
MPN11, I well remember the airfield "twinkling lights" prior to my first night flight. There was something magical in the way they defined apron, taxiways, and runway, as compared to daytime. Veritable Blackpool illuminations, that continued to impress until they all went out on a subsequent night and were eventually replaced by paraffin lit ones instead!
As Danny has told us before, dual instruction on the Spit amounted to learning and being tested on the contents of Pilots Notes, with a bit of advice from the left wing root with the canopy open thrown in prior to first flight/solo.
MPN11, I well remember the airfield "twinkling lights" prior to my first night flight. There was something magical in the way they defined apron, taxiways, and runway, as compared to daytime. Veritable Blackpool illuminations, that continued to impress until they all went out on a subsequent night and were eventually replaced by paraffin lit ones instead!
I went to Strubby once on a landaway from Oakington. It was after a low level navex so I needed refuelling. The bowser crew expressed total ignorance on how to refuel a Vampire so I was there on the wing. Outer wing tanks first, tighten the caps and then the inner wing tanks. When they were tight you topped up the fuselage tank.
Three years later I was in Sepulot.
I’d done my time in the Boy Scouts. I had also done my time in the Rhodesian Army so bushwacking held no fears. I had my own cubicle, about 7ft. x 5. A lightweight wooden bed with a sheet and a massive mosquito net. The last occupant had knocked up a small bedside table arrangement and a low platform was supposed to keep the bugs out of you clothes. Meals were taken with plates and suchlike and beer was available although one was limited to two cans of Tiger @ 50c a can. Cigarettes were free! The brands were a bit of a mystery but they were the ones that Her Majesty’s Customs had relieved off entrants to the UK and they were sent out to the troops. The place was comfortable enough and one was able to relax quite well.
Everything came in on the end of a parachute apart from people. The Beverleys of 34 Sqn. used to do a supply run two or three times a week. Fuel was the main criteria. There were no roads so it all had to be parachuted in. A Whirlwind used about a drum an hour so we needed at least 40 drums/week plus supplies of Avgas for the recce Sioux helicopters and the odd 209 Sqn. Pioneer. Rations, beer, ammunition, clothing and anything else would come down in a pallet which has a 4x4 foot thick plywood base which would end up as the sheet material for all the building projects. The empty drums would be rolled, or marshalled by a helicopter, into the river where they were picked up by the locals for all sorts of uses with the dregs of Avtur, about 2 gallons, being used for their stoves. They soon learned the difference between Avtur drums and Avgas. I had arrived with jungle shirts and trousers. These were hopeless in the cockpit in the prevailing temperature and humidity and the standard RAF ‘Tropical Flying Suit’ was even worse. The answer was a light RAAF Nomex overall which the RAF refused to stock. The AAC did though, so one of my first actions was to order one through the Army supply system. Two days later down it came; automatically Class C stores, so no problems about returning it.
You can see a 209 Sqn Twin Pioneer on the right. They took the parachutes back.
Our operational area was effectively from Long Pasir to halfway to Tawau. There was a ridge that streamed along the border between Indonesia and Malaysia and most of our operations were to clearings on our side of the ridge. They were, on the average, about twenty minutes flying and with the Whirlwind’s pathetic payload some fairly tight planning was necessary. We had two crewman on site but they did not fly on the sortie; they acted as movements and arranged the loads for the pilots who flew alone. Operating away from Sepulot there was a system where you arranged your own loading by assessing what was waiting to go. Should it be Gurkas with kit you allowed 220 lbs/person, Brits 200 and locals 160. You would then hold up a suitable number of fingers to indicate what you would take. When they emplaned and were ready they would reach up and tap you on the back of you leg to indicate they were ready to go. Things like seat belts and securing of cargo wasn’t your problem as there weren’t any seats, just belts attached to the wall, most passengers sat on the door ledge with their feet hanging over the side.
One learned the area fairly quickly on the milk runs. Even though the ground was carpeted with trees odd branch patterns would give you a unique position which was sometimes imperative to going down the right valley. When bombing off to some as yet unvisited landing site it was useful during a long leg navigating on the compass and clock to do a 360 halfway there so that you would know what the scenery is supposed to look like on the way back.
There was a Ghurkha company at Sepulot and another at Pensiangan which was in the next major valley. We would have visitors in the shape of ‘The Friends of Hereford’ who would be Brits, Oz or Kiwis. We would lift them to a clearing by the border and a couple of weeks later fly sideways to keep the smell out of the cockpit when we picked them up. There was also a clandestine unit consisting of the local tribe, Murats. They were, of course, in their own backyard and they were invaluable for tracking any strange activity in the jungle. There was one ex Colonial Officer who had been in this part of the world before the war. He could speak the local lingo and he would go to the border longhouses to suss out what was happening on the other side.
As an illustration I took him once to a place called Kabu, a longhouse on the border with just the river separating the two countries. We would fly around the longhouse a couple of times to warn them that we were coming. This was so that they could organise the children to line the side and hang on to the roof to stop our downwash blowing it off. On landing I was greeted by the headman and during the visit I had lunch, probably monkey and hill rice and he proudly showed me his chief’s medal which the British used to present to every headman.
I don't know which are his wives or family.
We had one Helistart Landrover which had been parachuted in to supply us with 24 volts. It couldn’t go far; there was a track to the bridge across the river to the village and that was it. I had a wander down there one day and went across the bridge somewhat shakily.
[/URL
In the centre they had a memorial stone with a Colt 0.5 in. machine gun on top. This was a memorial to a Liberator crew that crashed nearbye in 1945, captured by the Japanese and beheaded.
To be continued
Three years later I was in Sepulot.
I’d done my time in the Boy Scouts. I had also done my time in the Rhodesian Army so bushwacking held no fears. I had my own cubicle, about 7ft. x 5. A lightweight wooden bed with a sheet and a massive mosquito net. The last occupant had knocked up a small bedside table arrangement and a low platform was supposed to keep the bugs out of you clothes. Meals were taken with plates and suchlike and beer was available although one was limited to two cans of Tiger @ 50c a can. Cigarettes were free! The brands were a bit of a mystery but they were the ones that Her Majesty’s Customs had relieved off entrants to the UK and they were sent out to the troops. The place was comfortable enough and one was able to relax quite well.
Everything came in on the end of a parachute apart from people. The Beverleys of 34 Sqn. used to do a supply run two or three times a week. Fuel was the main criteria. There were no roads so it all had to be parachuted in. A Whirlwind used about a drum an hour so we needed at least 40 drums/week plus supplies of Avgas for the recce Sioux helicopters and the odd 209 Sqn. Pioneer. Rations, beer, ammunition, clothing and anything else would come down in a pallet which has a 4x4 foot thick plywood base which would end up as the sheet material for all the building projects. The empty drums would be rolled, or marshalled by a helicopter, into the river where they were picked up by the locals for all sorts of uses with the dregs of Avtur, about 2 gallons, being used for their stoves. They soon learned the difference between Avtur drums and Avgas. I had arrived with jungle shirts and trousers. These were hopeless in the cockpit in the prevailing temperature and humidity and the standard RAF ‘Tropical Flying Suit’ was even worse. The answer was a light RAAF Nomex overall which the RAF refused to stock. The AAC did though, so one of my first actions was to order one through the Army supply system. Two days later down it came; automatically Class C stores, so no problems about returning it.
You can see a 209 Sqn Twin Pioneer on the right. They took the parachutes back.
Our operational area was effectively from Long Pasir to halfway to Tawau. There was a ridge that streamed along the border between Indonesia and Malaysia and most of our operations were to clearings on our side of the ridge. They were, on the average, about twenty minutes flying and with the Whirlwind’s pathetic payload some fairly tight planning was necessary. We had two crewman on site but they did not fly on the sortie; they acted as movements and arranged the loads for the pilots who flew alone. Operating away from Sepulot there was a system where you arranged your own loading by assessing what was waiting to go. Should it be Gurkas with kit you allowed 220 lbs/person, Brits 200 and locals 160. You would then hold up a suitable number of fingers to indicate what you would take. When they emplaned and were ready they would reach up and tap you on the back of you leg to indicate they were ready to go. Things like seat belts and securing of cargo wasn’t your problem as there weren’t any seats, just belts attached to the wall, most passengers sat on the door ledge with their feet hanging over the side.
One learned the area fairly quickly on the milk runs. Even though the ground was carpeted with trees odd branch patterns would give you a unique position which was sometimes imperative to going down the right valley. When bombing off to some as yet unvisited landing site it was useful during a long leg navigating on the compass and clock to do a 360 halfway there so that you would know what the scenery is supposed to look like on the way back.
There was a Ghurkha company at Sepulot and another at Pensiangan which was in the next major valley. We would have visitors in the shape of ‘The Friends of Hereford’ who would be Brits, Oz or Kiwis. We would lift them to a clearing by the border and a couple of weeks later fly sideways to keep the smell out of the cockpit when we picked them up. There was also a clandestine unit consisting of the local tribe, Murats. They were, of course, in their own backyard and they were invaluable for tracking any strange activity in the jungle. There was one ex Colonial Officer who had been in this part of the world before the war. He could speak the local lingo and he would go to the border longhouses to suss out what was happening on the other side.
As an illustration I took him once to a place called Kabu, a longhouse on the border with just the river separating the two countries. We would fly around the longhouse a couple of times to warn them that we were coming. This was so that they could organise the children to line the side and hang on to the roof to stop our downwash blowing it off. On landing I was greeted by the headman and during the visit I had lunch, probably monkey and hill rice and he proudly showed me his chief’s medal which the British used to present to every headman.
I don't know which are his wives or family.
We had one Helistart Landrover which had been parachuted in to supply us with 24 volts. It couldn’t go far; there was a track to the bridge across the river to the village and that was it. I had a wander down there one day and went across the bridge somewhat shakily.
[/URLIn the centre they had a memorial stone with a Colt 0.5 in. machine gun on top. This was a memorial to a Liberator crew that crashed nearbye in 1945, captured by the Japanese and beheaded.
To be continued
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 21st Nov 2016 at 19:09.
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An excellent post, FED. Thanks for that.
Takes me back to the days when a few hundred pounds of materiel landed a couple of feet from me due to the chute not properly deploying over the DZ.
Put the wind up me , it did.
Then there was the day when an enthusiastic but clueless youngster filled the Bell 47's tanks with avtur.
Nobody got hurt but there were a few anxious moments, there.
Anyway, we're still around to talk about it.
Stay cool.
Takes me back to the days when a few hundred pounds of materiel landed a couple of feet from me due to the chute not properly deploying over the DZ.
Put the wind up me , it did.
Then there was the day when an enthusiastic but clueless youngster filled the Bell 47's tanks with avtur.
Nobody got hurt but there were a few anxious moments, there.
Anyway, we're still around to talk about it.
Stay cool.
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Chugalug (#9724) and Hempy,
Yes, the two-seat P-40 would be a post-war mod, same as the Spitfire. With no experience of the "Mk.IX(T)" (and far too decrepit even to climb in), still cannot imagine that it could handle anyway like the original - which was the sweetest thing that ever flew IMHO.
I suppose the idea was to sell it as an advanced trainer (cheap, for sterling) to compete with war surplus Harvards (plentiful, but for US dollars, and nobody had any of those). At that, I think only the Irish Air Force (that figures !) and the IAF nibbled.
As the Harvard was nastier than the Spit, all the wartime chaps made the transition with ease.
Danny.
Yes, the two-seat P-40 would be a post-war mod, same as the Spitfire. With no experience of the "Mk.IX(T)" (and far too decrepit even to climb in), still cannot imagine that it could handle anyway like the original - which was the sweetest thing that ever flew IMHO.
I suppose the idea was to sell it as an advanced trainer (cheap, for sterling) to compete with war surplus Harvards (plentiful, but for US dollars, and nobody had any of those). At that, I think only the Irish Air Force (that figures !) and the IAF nibbled.
As the Harvard was nastier than the Spit, all the wartime chaps made the transition with ease.
Danny.
FED,
you will not be surprised to hear that we had the same issues with the RAF Nomex flying overalls when I was on Hercules with 48 in Changi . We used to beg and 'borrow' the self same RAAF suits.
you will not be surprised to hear that we had the same issues with the RAF Nomex flying overalls when I was on Hercules with 48 in Changi . We used to beg and 'borrow' the self same RAAF suits.
Seeing things dropping from the sky and Strubby/Manby being discussed before reminded me of an apocryphal(?) tale of ordnance being dropped on the Khasi of a local pub. Is there any truth in this??
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ISTR that story, FZ. A 25lb practice bomb on a pub in Maltby-le-Marsh, was it not?
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Oops !
MPN11,
Googled around a bit, came up with:
HANSARD 1803–2005 → 1950s → 1953 → November 1953 → 19 November 1953 → Commons Sitting
BOMBING RANGE, SALTFLEET,
HC Deb 19 November 1953 vol 520 cc1940-7 1940
§ 5.1 p.m.
The toilet seat was supposed to have been rescued from the ladies' loo and (suitably mounted and with a tablet recounting the circumstances) on display behind the Lounge bar for years.
The pub is still there. Have any more recent visitors anything to add ?
Danny.
Googled around a bit, came up with:
HANSARD 1803–2005 → 1950s → 1953 → November 1953 → 19 November 1953 → Commons Sitting
BOMBING RANGE, SALTFLEET,
HC Deb 19 November 1953 vol 520 cc1940-7 1940
§ 5.1 p.m.
....§Mr. Cyril Osborne (Louth) I wish to bring to the notice of the House a question that affects my constituency and, especially, villages just North of Mablethorpe. Near the village of Saltfleet there is a bombing target range which was established in the early 30's. The burden of all I wish to say on behalf of my constituents can be put into one sentence—please will the Air Ministry take the range away? We do not mind if they take it to Scotland, we do not mind if they take it to Wales, we do not mind where they lake it so long as they take it away. If they take it to some place where no one lives that would be a good thing ...........
............Just after last August Bank Holiday a rather heavy smoke bomb was dropped on a public house called the "Prussian Queen." It went through the window of a lavatory. Had it dropped half an hour earlier someone would have been knocked out, or killed. Complaints have been made of a series of bombs which were dropped miles from the target. I think my hon. Friend will agree that more than a dozen have dropped wide of the target....
............Just after last August Bank Holiday a rather heavy smoke bomb was dropped on a public house called the "Prussian Queen." It went through the window of a lavatory. Had it dropped half an hour earlier someone would have been knocked out, or killed. Complaints have been made of a series of bombs which were dropped miles from the target. I think my hon. Friend will agree that more than a dozen have dropped wide of the target....
The pub is still there. Have any more recent visitors anything to add ?
Danny.
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Thanks, Danny42C ... that woke several brain cells from deep slumber! 
For some reason I thought it was close to Strubby, but Saltfleet Range makes much more sense!
For some reason I thought it was close to Strubby, but Saltfleet Range makes much more sense!
I did my three weeks or so at Sepulot and then I flew back to Labuan. A couple of weeks doing Air Test, winching and the occasional tasking for the units in Brunei and then it was off to Tawau. I was going in an RMAF Herald and the first surprise was the captain; one of the RMAF cadets on my initial Provost T1 flying course at Tern Hill. Danny Doong was tiny; he had to have a cushion in the Provost but he had trouble with the Herald. We flew via Sandakan and arrived in Tawau.
Tawau was a city at the east of the country. A river estuary separated it from Indonesia apart from Sebatic Island which was cut in half by the border. The city itself had a good collection of shops and restaurants including one run by an Australian that could punch out superb Zizzling Steaks. I lived in the Officers’ mess on the joint RAF/RMAF base. Very civilised and again I met one of my basic course, Matt Said, who was now flying Alouettes, a smaller five seater helicopter with a far more sprightly performance than a Whirwind. Poker was the game so the evenings were spent bluffing with a stony face around a card table.
We shared a common dispersal with our own technical offices on an airfield as large as Labuan. We had two Whirlwinds and the RMAF had six Alouettes. There was a fairly large Malaysian Army presence around Tawau and the Alouettes looked after them.
The British contingent was up country to the west towards Sepulot. They had a large HQ clearing plus a few on a low ridge which was effectively the border. One of these on the border ridge itself was a ‘fly though’ clearing inasmuch as one could enter or exit both ways. The joke was that we used it Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and the Indons used it Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Palau Sebatic was more interesting. There was a large Indonesian military base at Nunakan, just across the water. There was one of our observation posts conveniently on their side of a small ridge which had a gap in the hill close by. They used to observe the goings on and note what equipment they had, including a pair of M1939 anti-aircraft guns. To avoid them thinking about using these one would fly towards the northwest of the island at nosewheel skimming height. A track check would be a Whirlwind rotor head that was what all that remained from a Navy Whirlwind that had come to grief and dissolved in the seawater.( made out of magnesium). Coasting in one would fly below the tree line on our side of the ridge and when the gap came up it was a screaming max rate 180 though it and then a massive flare so that you dropped into the clearing. Clearing the trees and through the gap was almost instantaneous coming out so you were fairly safe.
From about March 1965 the squadron was almost exclusively first tourists who had arrive with no more than basic Jet Provost training and the Sioux/Whirlwind helicopter course. Ian Smith was a well known figure in those days and was the Squadron QHI. He had to teach these totally inexperienced pilots how to fly by themselves in one of the most difficult flying environments going. It is to his credit that during our time in Borneo we did not have one reportable accident. He came out to Tawau to instigate a trial.
To be continued…………..
Tawau was a city at the east of the country. A river estuary separated it from Indonesia apart from Sebatic Island which was cut in half by the border. The city itself had a good collection of shops and restaurants including one run by an Australian that could punch out superb Zizzling Steaks. I lived in the Officers’ mess on the joint RAF/RMAF base. Very civilised and again I met one of my basic course, Matt Said, who was now flying Alouettes, a smaller five seater helicopter with a far more sprightly performance than a Whirwind. Poker was the game so the evenings were spent bluffing with a stony face around a card table.
We shared a common dispersal with our own technical offices on an airfield as large as Labuan. We had two Whirlwinds and the RMAF had six Alouettes. There was a fairly large Malaysian Army presence around Tawau and the Alouettes looked after them.
The British contingent was up country to the west towards Sepulot. They had a large HQ clearing plus a few on a low ridge which was effectively the border. One of these on the border ridge itself was a ‘fly though’ clearing inasmuch as one could enter or exit both ways. The joke was that we used it Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and the Indons used it Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Palau Sebatic was more interesting. There was a large Indonesian military base at Nunakan, just across the water. There was one of our observation posts conveniently on their side of a small ridge which had a gap in the hill close by. They used to observe the goings on and note what equipment they had, including a pair of M1939 anti-aircraft guns. To avoid them thinking about using these one would fly towards the northwest of the island at nosewheel skimming height. A track check would be a Whirlwind rotor head that was what all that remained from a Navy Whirlwind that had come to grief and dissolved in the seawater.( made out of magnesium). Coasting in one would fly below the tree line on our side of the ridge and when the gap came up it was a screaming max rate 180 though it and then a massive flare so that you dropped into the clearing. Clearing the trees and through the gap was almost instantaneous coming out so you were fairly safe.
From about March 1965 the squadron was almost exclusively first tourists who had arrive with no more than basic Jet Provost training and the Sioux/Whirlwind helicopter course. Ian Smith was a well known figure in those days and was the Squadron QHI. He had to teach these totally inexperienced pilots how to fly by themselves in one of the most difficult flying environments going. It is to his credit that during our time in Borneo we did not have one reportable accident. He came out to Tawau to instigate a trial.
To be continued…………..
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 22nd Nov 2016 at 20:59.
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"TENTERA UDARA DIRAJA MALAYSIA" has, strangely, remained stuck firmly in my mind since the late 60s. I have no idea why, since they were rare visitors to Tengah.
The brain is a strange and wonderful thing.
The brain is a strange and wonderful thing.
