Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
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Who said this Thread was petering out? 
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Chugalug (#11261),
Too true. The Luftwaffe pilots had sworn allegiance to their Fuhrer, and loyally did their duty to him, as we had and did to our King. It was just their misfortune to have "Hitched their wagon" to an evil star. There should be no animosity between us - they were just doing their job. As for Hanna Reitsch, would I have shoe-horned myself into and test-flown a Me163 rocket ship ? - No, thanks !
MPN11 (#11282),
Me and my big mouth ! And, y'all, don't get me wrong about the 10-hour thing. I do not defend the USAAC system, but merely point out that they were working a 7-day week to a tight schedule, and if you did not solo at average time, they might not be able to get you through the Primary phase before it was time to ship you off to Basic School somewhere else.
Our instructors were not at all fazed by the enormous chop rates, which leads me to believe that their own cadets suffered a similar wastage rate. It may have been that a USAAC Cadetship was a highly prized thing (like a West Point cadetship): (I think you needed a Congressman's recommendation and two years "college" to apply).
For that reason they were able to recruit far more than the full training system could absorb, and so used Primary Schools as "Grading Schools" to whittle the numbers down. Whatever, the result was that we lost a potential 3,000 plus "Washouts", many of which could've been perfectly good pilots for the RAF if only they had been given more time at solo stage.
All this is "off the top of my head" of course. It has always been my hope that one day we will find an old Colonel, sipping his mint julep in a rocking chair on the back porch of his antebellum mansion, who was on General Arnold's staff, and can give us the low-down on this !
Cheers, both, Danny.
Too true. The Luftwaffe pilots had sworn allegiance to their Fuhrer, and loyally did their duty to him, as we had and did to our King. It was just their misfortune to have "Hitched their wagon" to an evil star. There should be no animosity between us - they were just doing their job. As for Hanna Reitsch, would I have shoe-horned myself into and test-flown a Me163 rocket ship ? - No, thanks !
MPN11 (#11282),
Me and my big mouth ! And, y'all, don't get me wrong about the 10-hour thing. I do not defend the USAAC system, but merely point out that they were working a 7-day week to a tight schedule, and if you did not solo at average time, they might not be able to get you through the Primary phase before it was time to ship you off to Basic School somewhere else.
Our instructors were not at all fazed by the enormous chop rates, which leads me to believe that their own cadets suffered a similar wastage rate. It may have been that a USAAC Cadetship was a highly prized thing (like a West Point cadetship): (I think you needed a Congressman's recommendation and two years "college" to apply).
For that reason they were able to recruit far more than the full training system could absorb, and so used Primary Schools as "Grading Schools" to whittle the numbers down. Whatever, the result was that we lost a potential 3,000 plus "Washouts", many of which could've been perfectly good pilots for the RAF if only they had been given more time at solo stage.
All this is "off the top of my head" of course. It has always been my hope that one day we will find an old Colonel, sipping his mint julep in a rocking chair on the back porch of his antebellum mansion, who was on General Arnold's staff, and can give us the low-down on this !
Cheers, both, Danny.
Geoffrey Wellum's First Light is the best flying book I have read, though perhaps only those who have flown can fully appreciate it. I agree with all that has been said, and would add another thought. My first CFI was the legendary A. C. H. (Tubby) Dash, awarded the AFC for services to flight training during WW2 which included ab-initio training in the dark -- he told me it didn't make any difference. Tubby had some 2000 hours on Tiger Moths and was a man of few words but one afternoon we were sitting out a cold front and I asked him what had been the most satisfying experience of his long career.
He drew a long pull on his pipe and thought for at least half a minute. "Watching young men grow up", he said eventually. Then he added: "Flying puts years on them. It certainly has on me ..." I often remembered this remark, reflecting that the pilot holds his destiny in his hands every time he/she leaves the runway.
The aircraft is also a major factor. I went solo at 4hrs 20m on an Aircoupe, a woolly and viceless two-seater which went up and down by itself. I took almost as long again to solo a Tiger Moth, for my WW2 ex-Service instructor insisted on recovery from every attitude and spin recovery from 800ft before he sent me off on my own. "You can learn to drive on an Aircoupe", he said, "but the Tiger Moth teaches you to fly".
Long afterwards I learned that he had lost a student who spun in while turning finals. And half a century later, I am saddened to read of two Tiger Moth accidents over the past year or so, both resulting from stall-spin at low altitudes.
He drew a long pull on his pipe and thought for at least half a minute. "Watching young men grow up", he said eventually. Then he added: "Flying puts years on them. It certainly has on me ..." I often remembered this remark, reflecting that the pilot holds his destiny in his hands every time he/she leaves the runway.
The aircraft is also a major factor. I went solo at 4hrs 20m on an Aircoupe, a woolly and viceless two-seater which went up and down by itself. I took almost as long again to solo a Tiger Moth, for my WW2 ex-Service instructor insisted on recovery from every attitude and spin recovery from 800ft before he sent me off on my own. "You can learn to drive on an Aircoupe", he said, "but the Tiger Moth teaches you to fly".
Long afterwards I learned that he had lost a student who spun in while turning finals. And half a century later, I am saddened to read of two Tiger Moth accidents over the past year or so, both resulting from stall-spin at low altitudes.
Danny,
while I stand by my earlier posts re "the 10-hour thing" I think that we have to remember that there was a bit of a World War going on by the time you entered flight training and the pressure was really on to produce pilots. When Stanford Tuck was Ab Initio (Oct. 1935) things would have been less frantic, so I suppose, more leeway was possible.
Geoffrey Wellum in "First Light" says that if you had not soloed by 10 hours your instructor was changed in case personalities were coming into it. Wellum asked his instructor Mr Hayne to stay with him if possible because neither of them had a problem with each other. Wellum says that 16 hours and a last flight with the C.F.I. meant that it was all over. I wonder if the fact that they were all "Hofficers" made a difference also? Wellum soloed Sept. 1st 1939 - the war with Germany kicked off two days later.
Pointless as it is now, as my flying days are past, I still envy all you military types (like my late father soloed at 8.55 , instructor F/O Meretinsky June 1942) with your one instructor - one pupil regime (I in a civvy flight school experienced 4 very different teachers before solo). Does the diminished, modern R.A.F. still use the 10 hour chop?
Ian BB
while I stand by my earlier posts re "the 10-hour thing" I think that we have to remember that there was a bit of a World War going on by the time you entered flight training and the pressure was really on to produce pilots. When Stanford Tuck was Ab Initio (Oct. 1935) things would have been less frantic, so I suppose, more leeway was possible.
Geoffrey Wellum in "First Light" says that if you had not soloed by 10 hours your instructor was changed in case personalities were coming into it. Wellum asked his instructor Mr Hayne to stay with him if possible because neither of them had a problem with each other. Wellum says that 16 hours and a last flight with the C.F.I. meant that it was all over. I wonder if the fact that they were all "Hofficers" made a difference also? Wellum soloed Sept. 1st 1939 - the war with Germany kicked off two days later.
Pointless as it is now, as my flying days are past, I still envy all you military types (like my late father soloed at 8.55 , instructor F/O Meretinsky June 1942) with your one instructor - one pupil regime (I in a civvy flight school experienced 4 very different teachers before solo). Does the diminished, modern R.A.F. still use the 10 hour chop?
Ian BB
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solo's
Away from home just now, but I remember that my father & uncle
each went solo in around 8.5 hours, thanks to Airworks.
That was in about 1947 or so.
Me ? will tell you later.No idea where my logbook is.
each went solo in around 8.5 hours, thanks to Airworks.
That was in about 1947 or so.
Me ? will tell you later.No idea where my logbook is.
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harrym, I really enjoyed reading your contributions to this website (the link to which you posted here a couple of years or so ago).
Fun and Games with Harold
http://www.vc10.net/Memories/everyth...html#Lightning over Brize Norton
I refer to the VC 10 flights: The first being when you were flying Harold Wilson down from Ottawa to Washington to meet the US President and required to de-ice twice before take-off and then flew into wind sheer on approach to the US airport.The second when you were struck by a blue lightning ball on approach to Brize Norton.
Fun and Games with Harold
http://www.vc10.net/Memories/everyth...html#Lightning over Brize Norton
I refer to the VC 10 flights: The first being when you were flying Harold Wilson down from Ottawa to Washington to meet the US President and required to de-ice twice before take-off and then flew into wind sheer on approach to the US airport.The second when you were struck by a blue lightning ball on approach to Brize Norton.
Last edited by roving; 29th Sep 2017 at 08:22. Reason: syntax
Geriaviator
I seem to remember that it was impossible to stall an Aircoupe, it just waffled and drifted its way down! Heaven knows what would have happened if it had become properly stalled apart from the inevitable. All our stalling/spin training was on the Chippie.
Aircoupe, a woolly and viceless two-seater which went up and down by itself
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Piper Colt: solo in 5:35. As with FZ above, had to do 30 mins in a Chipmunk to discover proper S&S 
Tiger Moth: 9:55 and not sure I ever managed a decent landing before being scrubbed
Tiger Moth: 9:55 and not sure I ever managed a decent landing before being scrubbed
Reminds me of the Tiger Moths being stacked up at the Maintenance Unit at RAF Heany in 1952. This was when the fleet were being changed to Chipmunks.
I spent many a happy hour sitting in a cockpit going Vroom Vroom amongst the wrecks.
Occasionally somebody would come along and chase us off but we would be back. tomorrow.
I spent many a happy hour sitting in a cockpit going Vroom Vroom amongst the wrecks.
Occasionally somebody would come along and chase us off but we would be back. tomorrow.
Soon after Chep Lap Kok opened in Hong Kong they were suffering the after effects of a typhoon. The crosswind on the single runway were out of sensible limits and aircraft were diverting all over the place. Not so for a China Airlines (Taipei) captain who decided that, even though he had deliberately loaded sufficient fuel to continue to Taipei if necessary, decided to land.
Technically he was within the max landing weight and crosswind component but the turbulent wind coming over the hill south of the airfield caused him to lose it on late finals.
The aircraft struck wing first and rolled over and came to rest on its back with 315 passengers and crew. After it had come to rest only three of the passengers had been killed.
What was not recorded in the accident reports were the cabin crew screaming at the passengers NOT to release their seat belts whist they were hanging upside down.
This quick thinking most certainly saved many lives
Technically he was within the max landing weight and crosswind component but the turbulent wind coming over the hill south of the airfield caused him to lose it on late finals.
The aircraft struck wing first and rolled over and came to rest on its back with 315 passengers and crew. After it had come to rest only three of the passengers had been killed.
What was not recorded in the accident reports were the cabin crew screaming at the passengers NOT to release their seat belts whist they were hanging upside down.
This quick thinking most certainly saved many lives
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Fareastdriver,
Talking of disposal of aircraft following fleet changes, when 613 AAF based at Ringway changed from Spitfires to Vampires in about 1950, this chap from the MoD visited the squadron and he and my father walked over to the hangar where the Spitfires were being stored
Having looked wistfully at the Spitfires he turned to my father and said 'I have to get rid of all of these.
Sadly my father didn't take-up the invitation to buy one at scrap value prices.
Talking of disposal of aircraft following fleet changes, when 613 AAF based at Ringway changed from Spitfires to Vampires in about 1950, this chap from the MoD visited the squadron and he and my father walked over to the hangar where the Spitfires were being stored
Having looked wistfully at the Spitfires he turned to my father and said 'I have to get rid of all of these.
Sadly my father didn't take-up the invitation to buy one at scrap value prices.
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Al Deere - a memory
FantomZorbin – ref your #11248, I hope to get the account of that NZ trip up shortly, although be advised that Al Deere figures in it only briefly.
Thank you Roving for your #11287.
Thank you Roving for your #11287.
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harrym
In the early 1980's I was having lunch at an adjacent table to Harold and Mary Wilson, the occasion of which was described very amusingly by a now retired Lord Justice of Appeal -- but at the time by one of the Queens Counsel in this cause celebre, in a book review he wrote in 1999, and which began ...
"When, some years ago, the Bar’s dining room at the House of Lords was closed and barristers appearing before the Law Lords were given permission to use the Peers’ dining room, younger barristers became quite badly disoriented by seeing elder statesmen who they were confident had been dead for many years lunching at the next table. What they didn’t always appreciate was that it was thanks to a similar cryogenic process that the Law Lords themselves were hearing appeals – as they still are."
In the early 1980's I was having lunch at an adjacent table to Harold and Mary Wilson, the occasion of which was described very amusingly by a now retired Lord Justice of Appeal -- but at the time by one of the Queens Counsel in this cause celebre, in a book review he wrote in 1999, and which began ...
"When, some years ago, the Bar’s dining room at the House of Lords was closed and barristers appearing before the Law Lords were given permission to use the Peers’ dining room, younger barristers became quite badly disoriented by seeing elder statesmen who they were confident had been dead for many years lunching at the next table. What they didn’t always appreciate was that it was thanks to a similar cryogenic process that the Law Lords themselves were hearing appeals – as they still are."
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Maybe I'm not very observant, but on swanning around on BBC4 iPlayer (as one does) I came across: "Cold War: Hot Jets" (first shown 2013). Don't remember seeing it before. It deals of those few years (just postwar) when we were world leaders in aviation, and our young Queen had an Air Force to be proud of.
And Danny had just crawled back in under the wire to put on the light blue for the second time.
Recommend. Only Episode 1 available for next 22 days ...... more planned, I hope !
And Danny had just crawled back in under the wire to put on the light blue for the second time.
Recommend. Only Episode 1 available for next 22 days ...... more planned, I hope !
This Ju52 was parked at Newtownards airfield in Co. Down while its passenger, German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop, was the guest of Secretary of State for Air Lord Londonderry at Mountstewart, a few miles away. The airfield is still owned by Londonderry Estates.
Ribbentrop's November 1936 visit had a sequel five years later when the Belfast air raids killed more than 800 people. The Ju52 captain returned to Newtownards this time commanding a section of Heinkel bombers which hit the airport buildings with deadly accuracy, killing 13 people including young soldiers from the town who were guarding the area. Several bomb craters were visible until a few years ago when the area was developed for housing. Hopefully none of the Luftwaffe ordnance is still around there. Wilhelm Sieghert was Germany's Inspector of Flying Troops (1916–1918).
The aircraft had a 24-hour police guard, and the horses in the background are pulling a mowing machine to keep the grass airfield in immaculate condition for its high-ranking visitor, who in 1946 was hanged for war crimes.
Last edited by Geriaviator; 3rd Oct 2017 at 11:00.
The Comet Line repatriated Allied aircrew shot down in the Low Countries and northern France via the Basque country, over the Pyrenees and on down to Gib. To the best of my knowledge, only two evaders were lost out of some 878 who were successfully returned.
They were Count Antoine d’Ursel, a 48 year old Belgian nobleman who had been the head of Comet in Belgium but who was heading for London after his cover had been blown by the Germans. The other was 2nd Lt James F Burch, USAAF, a 26 year old B-17 co-pilot, a native of Terrell, Tx.
Jim Burch’s aircraft was shot down by fighters during their 5th mission (to Munster) on 10th October 1943.
The bombardier was 2nd Lt Lloyd Albert Stanford and he described the subsequent events as follows:
The aircraft crashed near Holten, in the Netherlands. 2nd Lt William “Dick” Whitlow, USAAF, the aircraft commander, was picked up by a resistance worker virtually on landing and a few days later he joined up with S/Sgt John T Ashcraft, his radio operator, and they stayed together throughout their successful evasion. On 24th November they arrived in Brussels and were taken in charge by Aline “Lily” Dumont, a key Comet guide. From there, they travelled by train on 18th December to Dax in SW France, from where they took to bicycles to ride the last 60km or so to an inn at Anglet-Sutar, just outside Bayonne. Fortunately for them, given what was to happen to the other group, they crossed the Pyrenees via an inland route on 20th December 1943.
(Aline Dumont was awarded the George Medal after the war. I had the privilege of meeting her at her home in Provence 3 years ago.) http://www.omsa.org/files/Verstraeten%20Geo%20M.pdf
Meanwhile, after arriving in the Pays Basque, Jim Burch and Lloyd Stanford were taken to the home of Katalin Aguirre in Ciboure, close to Saint-Jean-de-Luz. They found that they were to be part of a ten-strong group - comprising three guides and seven evaders. This was an unprecedented number. The other evaders were two other B-17 aircrew (2nd Lt Robert Z Grimes and 2nd Lt Art Horning) plus 3 civilians (Count Antoine d’Ursel and two French agents: Albert Ancia & Roland Bru).
The plan was to make the crossing during the night of 23-24th December 1943. Unfortunately, Florentino Goikoetxea, the legendary Comet guide, was unwell and not available to lead the group over the mountains and so the lead role defaulted to Jean François Nothomb (aka “Franco”), another Belgian aristocrat, who, at the time, was head of the entire Comet network. He was to be assisted by two Basques – Martin Errazkin and Manuel Olaizola, (aka “Cestona”). The ten-strong party set off in the early evening darkness, aiming to reach the Bidassoa (the river that separated occupied France from Francoist Spain) in the small hours.
It had been raining heavily for the previous few days and the Bidassoa was running high and in flood. As they started their descent down through the densely vegetated valley sides in total darkness, they heard the roar of the river below. On arriving at the river bank at 0100hrs, the Count was shivering with a recurrence of malaria and Jim Burch was feeling the effects of the heavy bruising down one side he'd suffered on exiting his B-17 some 2 months earlier.
They stripped off their trousers and looped them around their necks for the man behind to hold on to. Midway across, Spanish guards on the opposite bank opened fire and there was a shriek as Jim Burch lost his footing and was swept away in the strong current. The Count d'Ursel made an abortive attempt to cross and, much weakened, he too was swept away during the course of his second attempt.
In the confusion, Spanish guards arrested Stanford, Horning, Grimes, Bru and Ancia. "Franco" & the 2 Basque guides managed to escape in the darkness.
Both bodies were recovered downstream the next morning by the Germans who put them on display (on Christmas Eve) in the porch of the local church at Biriatou as a warning. Overnight, the villagers covered the bodies with flowers which apparently enraged the Germans. They took the bodies away and they were never seen again.
The Count's widow arranged for a riverside memorial to be set up for her late husband in 1960 - but on realising that Jim Burch had no memorial, our association decided to launch a project 2 years ago to provide one in his memory. The Count's memorial was moved to a new site (its footing was fragile) and we inaugurated the new memorial site last April. It was attended by family members as numerous local civic dignatories. A truly memorable occasion.
They were Count Antoine d’Ursel, a 48 year old Belgian nobleman who had been the head of Comet in Belgium but who was heading for London after his cover had been blown by the Germans. The other was 2nd Lt James F Burch, USAAF, a 26 year old B-17 co-pilot, a native of Terrell, Tx.
Jim Burch’s aircraft was shot down by fighters during their 5th mission (to Munster) on 10th October 1943.
The bombardier was 2nd Lt Lloyd Albert Stanford and he described the subsequent events as follows:
“We dropped out of formation before we reached the target, and German fighters hit us before we could catch up. We dropped our bombs about 30 seconds behind the lead squadron, and they seemed to go well into the target. We almost caught up with the formation but then lost them on the shift just after the target. German fighters came in a second time and shot out one of the engines. The pilot saw two other ships out of formation on our left, and we were trying to join them. Seeing us with one engine out and chased by fighters, they seemed to want to get away. Fighters came in again, and we received the order to bail out. I started to go out and then went back to pick up my GI shoes. I didn’t see anyone in the cockpit then. The navigator jumped and I went out shortly.”
(Aline Dumont was awarded the George Medal after the war. I had the privilege of meeting her at her home in Provence 3 years ago.) http://www.omsa.org/files/Verstraeten%20Geo%20M.pdf
Meanwhile, after arriving in the Pays Basque, Jim Burch and Lloyd Stanford were taken to the home of Katalin Aguirre in Ciboure, close to Saint-Jean-de-Luz. They found that they were to be part of a ten-strong group - comprising three guides and seven evaders. This was an unprecedented number. The other evaders were two other B-17 aircrew (2nd Lt Robert Z Grimes and 2nd Lt Art Horning) plus 3 civilians (Count Antoine d’Ursel and two French agents: Albert Ancia & Roland Bru).
The plan was to make the crossing during the night of 23-24th December 1943. Unfortunately, Florentino Goikoetxea, the legendary Comet guide, was unwell and not available to lead the group over the mountains and so the lead role defaulted to Jean François Nothomb (aka “Franco”), another Belgian aristocrat, who, at the time, was head of the entire Comet network. He was to be assisted by two Basques – Martin Errazkin and Manuel Olaizola, (aka “Cestona”). The ten-strong party set off in the early evening darkness, aiming to reach the Bidassoa (the river that separated occupied France from Francoist Spain) in the small hours.
It had been raining heavily for the previous few days and the Bidassoa was running high and in flood. As they started their descent down through the densely vegetated valley sides in total darkness, they heard the roar of the river below. On arriving at the river bank at 0100hrs, the Count was shivering with a recurrence of malaria and Jim Burch was feeling the effects of the heavy bruising down one side he'd suffered on exiting his B-17 some 2 months earlier.
They stripped off their trousers and looped them around their necks for the man behind to hold on to. Midway across, Spanish guards on the opposite bank opened fire and there was a shriek as Jim Burch lost his footing and was swept away in the strong current. The Count d'Ursel made an abortive attempt to cross and, much weakened, he too was swept away during the course of his second attempt.
In the confusion, Spanish guards arrested Stanford, Horning, Grimes, Bru and Ancia. "Franco" & the 2 Basque guides managed to escape in the darkness.
Both bodies were recovered downstream the next morning by the Germans who put them on display (on Christmas Eve) in the porch of the local church at Biriatou as a warning. Overnight, the villagers covered the bodies with flowers which apparently enraged the Germans. They took the bodies away and they were never seen again.
The Count's widow arranged for a riverside memorial to be set up for her late husband in 1960 - but on realising that Jim Burch had no memorial, our association decided to launch a project 2 years ago to provide one in his memory. The Count's memorial was moved to a new site (its footing was fragile) and we inaugurated the new memorial site last April. It was attended by family members as numerous local civic dignatories. A truly memorable occasion.
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New Zealand - opening of Wellington Airport
Fantomzorbin and Roving, as requested here is an account (part 1) of the flight to NZ on which Al Deere was a passenger. Part 2 follows shortly subject to moderators' approval - it is, after all, somewhat OT!
Early in the morning of the 21st.October 1959 Britannia XL638 climbed slowly away from Darwin's damp heat, setting its nose south eastwards for the long haul to Ohakea in New Zealand's north island. A euphoric mood pervaded the flight deck, and not only because was Darwin a good place to leave; we were on the final stage of our long flight from the UK to NZ, a leisurely schedule wished on us by the 617 Sqdn Detachment whose ground crew we carried on this first global flight by an RAF Britannia. Already the original three Vulcans had dwindled to two, following a pointless attempt by one of their pilots to land at Karachi without using his drag 'chute. The consequent bogie fire right outside the terminal provided a Peter Sellers-type comedy act as the local fire team attempted unsuccessfully to extinguish the blaze, eventually doused by a crew chief using a hand extinguisher.
This was only one incident among a number involving the Vulcans and their personnel during a prolonged global odyssey. For instance, much could be written about the medical officer who accompanied them, presumably to safeguard the health and well-being of our "Great Deterrent". What they were supposed to deter I never discovered but he was notably unsuccessful, for following his advice on diet and drink during our overnight stay at Minwallah's Grand Hotel (of dreaded memory), many of his flock were stricken with the local palsy whereas by dint of common sense (much whisky, no ice) our Lyneham team remained in excellent health. This individual was a constant nuisance, turning up late for every departure and on more than one occasion being almost left behind. Various other excitements occurred, and somehow we arrived in NZ with one of their airmen under close arrest while as for the trip home, that would almost require a book in itself. But I suppose I must not be too hard for unlike us they were unaccustomed to operating far from base, and anyway the trip would not have happened in the first place had not 617 Sqdn received an invitation to visit New Zealand.
En route, light relief was provided by the necessity of virtually having to smuggle one of our passengers on board at the last moment. For reasons unknown, the redoubtable Al Deere had incurred the displeasure of 617's group AOC who was accompanying us in his own Comet and had tried to to veto Al's passage; however, by dint of various subterfuges we always contrived to sneak him on board at the last moment and were delighted, at the end, to be able to return him to his native land.
Scenically this final stage was boring, long hours of desert followed by the Tasman Sea, so first sight of Mount Egmont's volcanic cone above the horizon gave glad tidings of journey's end. Our destination of Ohakea was situated on a rich agricultural plain south east of the mountain, not far from the west coast, and is (was?) one of the RNZAF's main bases; the weather was gin- clear, and so it was not long before we touched down on its lengthy runway. Unusually, it appeared to be made of hexagonal concrete panels neatly fitting into each other, a form of construction I have not encountered elsewhere; however it was less satisfactory than it looked, being incredibly bumpy.
During the approach there had been comment on the countryside's lush appearance, and on leaving the aircraft our nostrils were assailed by the powerful aroma of fresh cut grass with more than a hint of clover; delicious almost beyond belief, and giving some reason as to why the country's meat & dairy products are so esteemed. On the personal level we were greeted in an equally welcoming manner, receiving profuse apologies for the accommodation offered and given a run-down on the program for our twelve day stay. Now the primary reason for our visit was attendance at the forthcoming grand opening of Wellington's new airport, and in addition to our Vulcans and Britannia there was the AOC's Comet 2, a Beverley from Singapore, a contingent from the USAF and (I think) the RAAF also. As for accommodation, due to the large number of visiting crews it was necessary to house us dormitory-style in huts; not ideal, but the weather was fairly benign and anyway in those days we were younger and less particular. There was little alternative, as the area was very rural and hotels virtually non-existent.
At a distance of 58 years I cannot recall the exact chronological sequence of events, but my log book tells me that two days after arrival the entire RAF contingent boarded Beverley XM104 (captain Flt.Lt John Grobler) for the brief flight to Wellington. Officially this was for a formal greeting by mayor & corporation at the town hall, but it also afforded a valuable preview of the airfield for those of us who were to partake in the display a couple of days later. For me there was a further attraction; my parents were on a world cruise, and their ship the "Southern Cross" was due to sail from Wellington that very evening. Taking a taxi from the airport direct to the docks I was disappointed to find the Blue Peter hoisted and visitors streaming ashore; however, the officials kind-heartedly allowed me on board for half an hour or so, time enough for a happy reunion over a stiff gin & tonic, and as I finally stepped off the gangplank dock workers were waiting to pull it away. Unable to see the ship depart as I was already late for the town hall beano, it was into another taxi for an event of which I remember next to nothing (memory failure not booze). Climbing away in the Beverley sometime after dark, I noticed a large ship well down the harbour inlet on its way to the open sea; probably the "Southern Cross" again.
Next day we positioned XL638 to Wellington in readiness for the Open Day and its associated flying display, and perhaps this is a convenient point to say something about the city's rather unique airport. The local topography can only be described as hostile to all forms of transport: the harbour, although an excellent natural shelter, has a tricky entrance from the dreaded Cook Strait with no shortage of jagged rocks on the way in; early railway builders had great difficulty in laying out workable grades and in later years much track re-alignment became necessary, local motorists get plenty of practice in hill-climbing, while providing an airport was so difficult that for decades there was none and the country's capital had to make do with Palmerston North, many miles distant.
With the development of air transport this became an insupportable nuisance, and eventually a small general aviation airfield was increased to its maximum possible dimensions and dubbed "Wellington International". Situated on an isthmus connecting the city to a lumpy island jutting into the harbour, the runway was (is?) a bare 6000ft long or perhaps even a shade less; further extension would only have been possible by building into the harbour, a ruinously expensive project as it is about 50ft above mean sea level anyway. Indeed on my only subsequent visit many years later nothing had changed, but whether or not it has since been lengthened I do not know. So what with the surrounding high ground, steep drops immediately off both ends of an undesirably short strip of tarmac, plus Wellington's notoriously wet & windy weather, it bade fair to rival the old Kai Tak as one of the world's less enticing airports. All this is of some significance in view of events to follow…………….
Early in the morning of the 21st.October 1959 Britannia XL638 climbed slowly away from Darwin's damp heat, setting its nose south eastwards for the long haul to Ohakea in New Zealand's north island. A euphoric mood pervaded the flight deck, and not only because was Darwin a good place to leave; we were on the final stage of our long flight from the UK to NZ, a leisurely schedule wished on us by the 617 Sqdn Detachment whose ground crew we carried on this first global flight by an RAF Britannia. Already the original three Vulcans had dwindled to two, following a pointless attempt by one of their pilots to land at Karachi without using his drag 'chute. The consequent bogie fire right outside the terminal provided a Peter Sellers-type comedy act as the local fire team attempted unsuccessfully to extinguish the blaze, eventually doused by a crew chief using a hand extinguisher.
This was only one incident among a number involving the Vulcans and their personnel during a prolonged global odyssey. For instance, much could be written about the medical officer who accompanied them, presumably to safeguard the health and well-being of our "Great Deterrent". What they were supposed to deter I never discovered but he was notably unsuccessful, for following his advice on diet and drink during our overnight stay at Minwallah's Grand Hotel (of dreaded memory), many of his flock were stricken with the local palsy whereas by dint of common sense (much whisky, no ice) our Lyneham team remained in excellent health. This individual was a constant nuisance, turning up late for every departure and on more than one occasion being almost left behind. Various other excitements occurred, and somehow we arrived in NZ with one of their airmen under close arrest while as for the trip home, that would almost require a book in itself. But I suppose I must not be too hard for unlike us they were unaccustomed to operating far from base, and anyway the trip would not have happened in the first place had not 617 Sqdn received an invitation to visit New Zealand.
En route, light relief was provided by the necessity of virtually having to smuggle one of our passengers on board at the last moment. For reasons unknown, the redoubtable Al Deere had incurred the displeasure of 617's group AOC who was accompanying us in his own Comet and had tried to to veto Al's passage; however, by dint of various subterfuges we always contrived to sneak him on board at the last moment and were delighted, at the end, to be able to return him to his native land.
Scenically this final stage was boring, long hours of desert followed by the Tasman Sea, so first sight of Mount Egmont's volcanic cone above the horizon gave glad tidings of journey's end. Our destination of Ohakea was situated on a rich agricultural plain south east of the mountain, not far from the west coast, and is (was?) one of the RNZAF's main bases; the weather was gin- clear, and so it was not long before we touched down on its lengthy runway. Unusually, it appeared to be made of hexagonal concrete panels neatly fitting into each other, a form of construction I have not encountered elsewhere; however it was less satisfactory than it looked, being incredibly bumpy.
During the approach there had been comment on the countryside's lush appearance, and on leaving the aircraft our nostrils were assailed by the powerful aroma of fresh cut grass with more than a hint of clover; delicious almost beyond belief, and giving some reason as to why the country's meat & dairy products are so esteemed. On the personal level we were greeted in an equally welcoming manner, receiving profuse apologies for the accommodation offered and given a run-down on the program for our twelve day stay. Now the primary reason for our visit was attendance at the forthcoming grand opening of Wellington's new airport, and in addition to our Vulcans and Britannia there was the AOC's Comet 2, a Beverley from Singapore, a contingent from the USAF and (I think) the RAAF also. As for accommodation, due to the large number of visiting crews it was necessary to house us dormitory-style in huts; not ideal, but the weather was fairly benign and anyway in those days we were younger and less particular. There was little alternative, as the area was very rural and hotels virtually non-existent.
At a distance of 58 years I cannot recall the exact chronological sequence of events, but my log book tells me that two days after arrival the entire RAF contingent boarded Beverley XM104 (captain Flt.Lt John Grobler) for the brief flight to Wellington. Officially this was for a formal greeting by mayor & corporation at the town hall, but it also afforded a valuable preview of the airfield for those of us who were to partake in the display a couple of days later. For me there was a further attraction; my parents were on a world cruise, and their ship the "Southern Cross" was due to sail from Wellington that very evening. Taking a taxi from the airport direct to the docks I was disappointed to find the Blue Peter hoisted and visitors streaming ashore; however, the officials kind-heartedly allowed me on board for half an hour or so, time enough for a happy reunion over a stiff gin & tonic, and as I finally stepped off the gangplank dock workers were waiting to pull it away. Unable to see the ship depart as I was already late for the town hall beano, it was into another taxi for an event of which I remember next to nothing (memory failure not booze). Climbing away in the Beverley sometime after dark, I noticed a large ship well down the harbour inlet on its way to the open sea; probably the "Southern Cross" again.
Next day we positioned XL638 to Wellington in readiness for the Open Day and its associated flying display, and perhaps this is a convenient point to say something about the city's rather unique airport. The local topography can only be described as hostile to all forms of transport: the harbour, although an excellent natural shelter, has a tricky entrance from the dreaded Cook Strait with no shortage of jagged rocks on the way in; early railway builders had great difficulty in laying out workable grades and in later years much track re-alignment became necessary, local motorists get plenty of practice in hill-climbing, while providing an airport was so difficult that for decades there was none and the country's capital had to make do with Palmerston North, many miles distant.
With the development of air transport this became an insupportable nuisance, and eventually a small general aviation airfield was increased to its maximum possible dimensions and dubbed "Wellington International". Situated on an isthmus connecting the city to a lumpy island jutting into the harbour, the runway was (is?) a bare 6000ft long or perhaps even a shade less; further extension would only have been possible by building into the harbour, a ruinously expensive project as it is about 50ft above mean sea level anyway. Indeed on my only subsequent visit many years later nothing had changed, but whether or not it has since been lengthened I do not know. So what with the surrounding high ground, steep drops immediately off both ends of an undesirably short strip of tarmac, plus Wellington's notoriously wet & windy weather, it bade fair to rival the old Kai Tak as one of the world's less enticing airports. All this is of some significance in view of events to follow…………….