4FTS RAF Valley
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4FTS RAF Valley
Firstly, my commiserations to those student pilots at 4FTS who have had bad news lately. Unsolicited advice from an old sweat: you are all 'above average' individuals; don't lose heart. Life is like rugby - pick the ball up & go forward.
On a lighter note, as I contemplate the universe through a glass of rather good Merlot this evening, my mind wanders back to somewhat happier days at 4FTS. I started my 'hands-on' career there in 1973, having dug an unauthorised tunnel & escaped from Halton at the end of my Rigger's apprenticeship (Trenchard's finest, old boy). Five happy years on Gnats got off to a good start; I was changing an aileron PCU in Gaydon Hangar when my Flt Cdr strolled by. " I trust you're doing a good job there", he cautioned this spotty 18yr old, "because you're flying on the Air Test in the morning". My concentration now assumed the intensity of a laser beam.
Next morning at early o'clock, I'm breaking the world record for the longest time taken to don an immersion suit. Eventually, sweating like George Bush at a Bedouin banquet, I'm trailing behind the good Flt Lt Dougie Mee (UTP of the time) as he strides towards our Gnat. We strap the jet on & off we go, up to max ceiling (44k'?). "Ever been supersonic?" says the voice from the front seat; "nnnno Sir", says spotty youth. Down we go jolly quick, Machmeter shows M1+, up we zoom again, certain parts of my anatomy are in our 6 o'clock some distance behind. Oh to do it all again........
After a tour on the Mighty Nimrod, the Valley boomerang struck again, and I found myself once more on Anglesey (100 miles of coastline, most of it by the sea....). I volunteered to be a Tech Instructor (the deuced handsome one with the Irish name) at 4FTS Aircrew Groundschool (1983-85); happy days, Exercise Hawkeye every 3wks, running around Snowdonia in the dark & setting fire to large swathes of the National Park. We certainly knew how to keep the Constabulary busy, with D**k Wr**ht's penchant for pyrotechnic displays. Such fun!
So having exhausted both my vocabulary & this fine bottle of wine, I now extend a warm invitation to all ex-4FTS folks to share their memories here; go on, it won't hurt too much.........
On a lighter note, as I contemplate the universe through a glass of rather good Merlot this evening, my mind wanders back to somewhat happier days at 4FTS. I started my 'hands-on' career there in 1973, having dug an unauthorised tunnel & escaped from Halton at the end of my Rigger's apprenticeship (Trenchard's finest, old boy). Five happy years on Gnats got off to a good start; I was changing an aileron PCU in Gaydon Hangar when my Flt Cdr strolled by. " I trust you're doing a good job there", he cautioned this spotty 18yr old, "because you're flying on the Air Test in the morning". My concentration now assumed the intensity of a laser beam.
Next morning at early o'clock, I'm breaking the world record for the longest time taken to don an immersion suit. Eventually, sweating like George Bush at a Bedouin banquet, I'm trailing behind the good Flt Lt Dougie Mee (UTP of the time) as he strides towards our Gnat. We strap the jet on & off we go, up to max ceiling (44k'?). "Ever been supersonic?" says the voice from the front seat; "nnnno Sir", says spotty youth. Down we go jolly quick, Machmeter shows M1+, up we zoom again, certain parts of my anatomy are in our 6 o'clock some distance behind. Oh to do it all again........
After a tour on the Mighty Nimrod, the Valley boomerang struck again, and I found myself once more on Anglesey (100 miles of coastline, most of it by the sea....). I volunteered to be a Tech Instructor (the deuced handsome one with the Irish name) at 4FTS Aircrew Groundschool (1983-85); happy days, Exercise Hawkeye every 3wks, running around Snowdonia in the dark & setting fire to large swathes of the National Park. We certainly knew how to keep the Constabulary busy, with D**k Wr**ht's penchant for pyrotechnic displays. Such fun!
So having exhausted both my vocabulary & this fine bottle of wine, I now extend a warm invitation to all ex-4FTS folks to share their memories here; go on, it won't hurt too much.........
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After 35 years and 3 cans of Strongbow, all I have to say for tonight is that I wish I had known at the time, just how much I enjoyed being at Valley.
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Two years, 64 to 66. Scores of aircraft to fly, at the start of the day anyway! 3 students, no secondary duties, great mess life with a very good jazz band. Dave Willis (Clarinet) the late Bob Patchett (cornet) ?? Wooding (saxophone) and met man ?? Yeomans drums. One year I got 440 hours in 50 minute trips! Some of my most enjoyable years in the RAF, matched only by 2 years on MASUAS at Woodvale.
Douggie Mee was the Pilot Nav instructor and lived in Rhosneigr and had a string of lobster pots there. It was rumoured that his ground lecture schedule was based round the local tide tables so that he could lecture and fish on the same day.
Douggie Mee was the Pilot Nav instructor and lived in Rhosneigr and had a string of lobster pots there. It was rumoured that his ground lecture schedule was based round the local tide tables so that he could lecture and fish on the same day.
Last edited by A2QFI; 8th Mar 2011 at 11:47.
A2QFI - which squadron were you on? I was on 22 Course, 1 Sqn, Jan-Jun 66. My instructor was a Rhodesian, Vic W, who was very upset that his Mum back hoime had no fuel for her car (blockade) so had to ride a moped. Did Ex 1 with Max C, and very nearly repeated it with him again when he was Valley Stn Cdr and I was on the Command Accounts Inspection Team in about 1988 - he had other "stn cdr" things to do, but I still flew the trip with another instructor. Magic
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Great bunch of bods back in '73; the ones I recall are Boz Robinson, Wally Black, Roy Gamblin, PP Gilroy, Chile Cooper, Derek Brown, Keith Marshall, John Blackwell, Pete Squire, Dave Roome (the neatest and best board briefer ever), Jock Stirrup, Mel Trachta, Rog Smith, Roger Pope, Terry Bushnell, Simon Bostock, etc.
Notes on 4FTS Valley from "Flying Freestyle" by Jerry Pook:
Sorties in the Gnat were action-packed. A standard General Handling sortie would be as follows: First, an instrument departure using the TACAN departure procedure to send you off on an accurate track into the upper air; this had to be flown exactly on the radial and at an accurate 360kt climbing speed. After a few minutes of climbing through cloud you were in the deep blue at 40,000ft and ready for a supersonic run over the sea to practice high-Mach number handling. From this height on a clear day you could see 100miles or more to the East Coast of England. To the north the peaks of the Lake District were hazy blue shadows, seemingly just a few miles away, the Isle of Man a sand-coloured leaf floating just offshore in Morecambe Bay. Lower down we would carry out some steep turns, followed by maximum rate turns, winding up to a breathtaking 7G in a descending spiral. Now we zoom climb again for some stalling. We slow down to minimum control speed and recover as she falls away into an incipient spin. (fully-developed spinning was prohibited: it was far too unpredictable to be safe). Aeros next: loops, slow rolls, point rolls, Cuban 8s, Lazy 8s, Vertical 8s; everything to be entered at the correct speed and height and all linked together as smoothly as possible to practise our sequence for the end-of-course competition. At the top of the last loop the inevitable hydraulic failure warning comes on as my instructor pulls the throttle to idle and switches off the hydraulics. "Simulated engine failure," he says helpfully, having made sure that you were pointing straight at the biggest cloud he could find.
"Into the STUPRE drill: easy really, can't understand why they make so much fuss about it: - CHRIST these controls are heavy!"
And now a sweaty glide back towards base for a Flameout Spiral down throught the cloud, (same as the Jet Provost procedure) followed by a glide landing on whichever runway we see when we pop out underneath. And now circuits. Too busy at Valley, so off down the road to Mona, our relief landing ground, via a complicated set of departure and recovery procedures. We whistle round the circuit at impossible speeds, coping with the inevitable screaming crosswind which makes us overbank to 80deg to get round finals. Normal circuits, Manual circuits, Flapless circuits; get the speed right, get the touchdown right, all pounding the runway in tandem with other sweating students. As always my instructor takes over now and then to redemonstrate a circuit, just to avoid getting bored and to give me a bit of a rest. His flying is immmaculate, as always, quite sick-making to see the precision of it. We students know just how much more difficult it is to fly from the back seat with severely restricted forward view. At Valley I discovered that I began to stammer a bit under pressure. It became a sure indicator that I was working almost to capacity, and I had to make a conscious effort to steady up and keep a grip. Whatever the pressure, never let it show through on the radio. Stay cool: keep your voice low-pitched, calm and slightly bored: Only 'Spastics' and actors scream on the radio.
Night flying would involve a similar profile, with less General Handling. Naturally, there would be a lot more IF as we flew in quite dirty weather conditions. The many All-Weather pilots on the staff would think nothing of doing night circuits in heavy rain under a 400ft cloudbase with poor visibility underneath. By far the most difficult exercises were Manual circuits on Standby Instruments. With the splendid Attitude Indicator and electric altimeter completely covered up we had only the tiny Standby Artificial Horizon and, worst of all, the minute Standby altimeter down by your left knee. On this single-pointer instrument the difference between 1000ft and zero feet was represented by a needle movement of just a few millimetres. In the poor light in that corner of the cockpit it was very difficult to read with any accuracy. On my final night check I ended up flying downwind at 400ft instead of 1000ft, trying to read this wretched instrument in the dark and wrestling with Manual Control.
Don't complain: if you can't take a joke you shouldn't have joined.
Magic times!
Sorties in the Gnat were action-packed. A standard General Handling sortie would be as follows: First, an instrument departure using the TACAN departure procedure to send you off on an accurate track into the upper air; this had to be flown exactly on the radial and at an accurate 360kt climbing speed. After a few minutes of climbing through cloud you were in the deep blue at 40,000ft and ready for a supersonic run over the sea to practice high-Mach number handling. From this height on a clear day you could see 100miles or more to the East Coast of England. To the north the peaks of the Lake District were hazy blue shadows, seemingly just a few miles away, the Isle of Man a sand-coloured leaf floating just offshore in Morecambe Bay. Lower down we would carry out some steep turns, followed by maximum rate turns, winding up to a breathtaking 7G in a descending spiral. Now we zoom climb again for some stalling. We slow down to minimum control speed and recover as she falls away into an incipient spin. (fully-developed spinning was prohibited: it was far too unpredictable to be safe). Aeros next: loops, slow rolls, point rolls, Cuban 8s, Lazy 8s, Vertical 8s; everything to be entered at the correct speed and height and all linked together as smoothly as possible to practise our sequence for the end-of-course competition. At the top of the last loop the inevitable hydraulic failure warning comes on as my instructor pulls the throttle to idle and switches off the hydraulics. "Simulated engine failure," he says helpfully, having made sure that you were pointing straight at the biggest cloud he could find.
"Into the STUPRE drill: easy really, can't understand why they make so much fuss about it: - CHRIST these controls are heavy!"
And now a sweaty glide back towards base for a Flameout Spiral down throught the cloud, (same as the Jet Provost procedure) followed by a glide landing on whichever runway we see when we pop out underneath. And now circuits. Too busy at Valley, so off down the road to Mona, our relief landing ground, via a complicated set of departure and recovery procedures. We whistle round the circuit at impossible speeds, coping with the inevitable screaming crosswind which makes us overbank to 80deg to get round finals. Normal circuits, Manual circuits, Flapless circuits; get the speed right, get the touchdown right, all pounding the runway in tandem with other sweating students. As always my instructor takes over now and then to redemonstrate a circuit, just to avoid getting bored and to give me a bit of a rest. His flying is immmaculate, as always, quite sick-making to see the precision of it. We students know just how much more difficult it is to fly from the back seat with severely restricted forward view. At Valley I discovered that I began to stammer a bit under pressure. It became a sure indicator that I was working almost to capacity, and I had to make a conscious effort to steady up and keep a grip. Whatever the pressure, never let it show through on the radio. Stay cool: keep your voice low-pitched, calm and slightly bored: Only 'Spastics' and actors scream on the radio.
Night flying would involve a similar profile, with less General Handling. Naturally, there would be a lot more IF as we flew in quite dirty weather conditions. The many All-Weather pilots on the staff would think nothing of doing night circuits in heavy rain under a 400ft cloudbase with poor visibility underneath. By far the most difficult exercises were Manual circuits on Standby Instruments. With the splendid Attitude Indicator and electric altimeter completely covered up we had only the tiny Standby Artificial Horizon and, worst of all, the minute Standby altimeter down by your left knee. On this single-pointer instrument the difference between 1000ft and zero feet was represented by a needle movement of just a few millimetres. In the poor light in that corner of the cockpit it was very difficult to read with any accuracy. On my final night check I ended up flying downwind at 400ft instead of 1000ft, trying to read this wretched instrument in the dark and wrestling with Manual Control.
Don't complain: if you can't take a joke you shouldn't have joined.
Magic times!
2nd Gnat course in 1963. Memory failing but I can remember Tony Doyle (my instructor), Dick Carrey,Gerry Ranscombe, Gerry Honey, Lee Jones. Great Mess, superb flying, but a long way from anywhere !
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767 wrote:
It's aff uck and long way from Everywhere!
The new A55 is a godsend, but Chester still the first decent place you get to after a few hours, and it's still only Chester!
but a long way from anywhere !
It's aff uck and long way from Everywhere!
The new A55 is a godsend, but Chester still the first decent place you get to after a few hours, and it's still only Chester!
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I was in the vicinity of Valley this lunchtime and, apart from a (SARTU?)hecopleter doing his thing south of South Stack and in Holyhead harbour, I neither heard, nor saw, another military aeroplane, although I believe there may have been something in the Mona circuit.
Gone are the days of the Gnats, Hunters, Lightning MPCs and cross runway ops.
Hey Ho
Gone are the days of the Gnats, Hunters, Lightning MPCs and cross runway ops.
Hey Ho
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Back in '62 I remember the Slot, booked 14-17000 in Green 1 to escape!
I also remember the other slots generally chatted up in Boots and romanced away in the wilderness!
I also remember the pubs allegedly closed on Sundays but bursting with thirst and available if you possessed a local 'native'. But there was always the Club in Rosneiger and the voluptuous barmaid snatched by evil CD.
Playing with Jav's and early weather recce's.
And the Groupies daughter...............
I also remember the other slots generally chatted up in Boots and romanced away in the wilderness!
I also remember the pubs allegedly closed on Sundays but bursting with thirst and available if you possessed a local 'native'. But there was always the Club in Rosneiger and the voluptuous barmaid snatched by evil CD.
Playing with Jav's and early weather recce's.
And the Groupies daughter...............
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All you poor sprogs, get some in. I did my AFS at Valley in 1951 - dual on Meteor T7s and solo on Vampire F1s and 5s and evenings spent at Auntie Tatties in Rhosneigr, reached on bicycles. No students at that time could afford a car. But enough of that.
As a cadet pilot on the first course at RAF Jurby we had a signaller one (flight sergeant to you sprogs) whose aim was to teach us morse. In a later life he became a pilot passing through 4FTS. In an even later life he and I flew together on occasions in BA where he was known affectionately as Bungalow B******. Nothing up top! Anyhow the subject of a certain chap who flew under Tower Bridge came up who had taken him on his Gnat famil flight. Old Bungalow swore blind that said officer pulled up into a loop and completed it by flying under the Menai bridge to show him how fighter pilots did things. I personally believe that Bungalow had his eyes shut all the way round but there must be others from that time at Valley who may know if this was likely to be true. Looking at the map it seems improbable but Alan was in the habit of doing improbable things. I'm told that one New Years Day he lead a formation to drop bogrolls on Group HQ near Reading but owing to a navigation error the Ministry of Pensions building, or some such, was showered instead. They arrived back at Valley to be met by the Station Commander and Wingco Flying who were intent on delivering a bollocking for a previous misdemeanour not realising where the brave lads had just been.
As a cadet pilot on the first course at RAF Jurby we had a signaller one (flight sergeant to you sprogs) whose aim was to teach us morse. In a later life he became a pilot passing through 4FTS. In an even later life he and I flew together on occasions in BA where he was known affectionately as Bungalow B******. Nothing up top! Anyhow the subject of a certain chap who flew under Tower Bridge came up who had taken him on his Gnat famil flight. Old Bungalow swore blind that said officer pulled up into a loop and completed it by flying under the Menai bridge to show him how fighter pilots did things. I personally believe that Bungalow had his eyes shut all the way round but there must be others from that time at Valley who may know if this was likely to be true. Looking at the map it seems improbable but Alan was in the habit of doing improbable things. I'm told that one New Years Day he lead a formation to drop bogrolls on Group HQ near Reading but owing to a navigation error the Ministry of Pensions building, or some such, was showered instead. They arrived back at Valley to be met by the Station Commander and Wingco Flying who were intent on delivering a bollocking for a previous misdemeanour not realising where the brave lads had just been.
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I could email AP and ask him about Menai Bridge; he could have flown under it but at the bottom 1/2 of a loop with a passenger I don't think so. He was skilled but not stupid