Wg Cdr Arthur Gill, OBE, DFC
It may be of passing interest that the serial number of the Frog Interceptor, namely J9842, was apparently that of a Westland Wapiti, with which the Interceptor appears to share a slight resemblance - apart of course from being a monoplane rather than a biplane.
Jack
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Ah, thank you, Union Jack - I'd wondered about the serial.
At first glance, I thought it looked like something that might have come from the Fairey company.
I later realised why.
Their Long-range Monoplane of 1928 was of very similar proportions (though not size) and configuration (shoulder-wing).
In 1933, one of them set the world long distance record at 5410 miles
At first glance, I thought it looked like something that might have come from the Fairey company.
I later realised why.
Their Long-range Monoplane of 1928 was of very similar proportions (though not size) and configuration (shoulder-wing).
In 1933, one of them set the world long distance record at 5410 miles
I think the wings are on upside down;serials underneath,unless it flew inverted....
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Originally Posted by sycamore
I think the wings are on upside down;serials underneath,unless it flew inverted....
Union Jack ... my Reference Book [Bruce Robertson's 'British Military Aircraft Serials'] agrees with your perspective - J9842 was one of a batch of 37 x Westland Wapiti IIA.
[MPN11 removes anorak]
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Jack,
for which I nominate you for the "Guarded Aircraft Recognition" * Award of the Year. But, there again, the Navy doesn't need aircraft recognition - they just "shoot first and ask questions afterwards (ie open fire on anything which comes within gun range in the air). In practice, it worked quite well, as every RAF pilot knew this, and would keep out of range of any warship until he had made sure it was friendly, and had "made his number" with them.
Note *: The "Highly Derogatory Order of the Irremovable Digit" was gazetted in Tee Emm to a Pilot Officer xxxxxx for Guarded Recognition; in his Combat Report he had stated: "I thought it might be a Hurricane, so I only gave it a short burst !"
Stanwell,
I at first thought "Miles Magister". But it always pays to research on Wiki: seems the Interceptor dated from 1932, the "Maggie" only from 1937.
I suppose the model would have to be mid (detachable) wing, as it would be difficult to design a strong attachment to the lower curved surface.
MPN11,
Anoraks welcome in our CyberCrewRoom !
Danny.
...Wapiti, with which the Interceptor appears to share a slight resemblance - apart of course from being a monoplane rather than a biplane..
Note *: The "Highly Derogatory Order of the Irremovable Digit" was gazetted in Tee Emm to a Pilot Officer xxxxxx for Guarded Recognition; in his Combat Report he had stated: "I thought it might be a Hurricane, so I only gave it a short burst !"
Stanwell,
I at first thought "Miles Magister". But it always pays to research on Wiki: seems the Interceptor dated from 1932, the "Maggie" only from 1937.
I suppose the model would have to be mid (detachable) wing, as it would be difficult to design a strong attachment to the lower curved surface.
MPN11,
Anoraks welcome in our CyberCrewRoom !
Danny.
Last edited by Danny42C; 28th Jun 2016 at 13:17. Reason: Typo
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Both biplanes were detachable from centre section for packing (and flew off in a crash !). After a few of these, did not fly it any more as it was such a fine static model to risk being destroyed in this way, it just "flew" around by hand with accompanying "Broom, broom" ad lib.
)
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NigG ... not in accord with the Scouts' Code ... remove your woggle and stand in the corner.
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NigG,
We used to call it "banana oil". And I've done my share of that, too. The balsa was ¼ in square, as I recall.
It was only rich boys who got gifts like the FROG Hawker Hart. £2/2/0 adjusted for Cost Inflation would be £105 today. Adjusted for Wage Inflation, it would be three times that figure - £315. Wage inflation is a far better comparison, as the key question was: How many hours did Dad have to work to buy this ?
Danny.
...The dope would be brushed on to the tissue paper to shrink it...
It was only rich boys who got gifts like the FROG Hawker Hart. £2/2/0 adjusted for Cost Inflation would be £105 today. Adjusted for Wage Inflation, it would be three times that figure - £315. Wage inflation is a far better comparison, as the key question was: How many hours did Dad have to work to buy this ?
Danny.
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When I was at school, standing in the corner, hands behind your back, was a penalty for minor misdemeanors, like running in the corridor. Wrecking someone else's model plane would have merited: 'Go and stand outside my study and wait for me there!' Your fate would be both certain and painful.
Only one boy, in my time, developed what might best be called ' effective counter-measures'. Knowing that he was destined for a spanking from the headmaster's hand, he took an exercise book and thrust it down the back of his pants. Before doing so, he pierced the front cover with several drawing pins, which then projected, hedgehog-like, to defend his posterior. (I suppose one might reasonably call it an 'arsenal'!) On being required to bend over the arm of an easy chair, his ruse was of course quite evident to the headmaster. Apparently, so flabbergasted was he at the viciousness of the boy's intent, which of course equally matched his own, that he ordered him out of the study, and the boy went free. He was, of course, thereafter regarded with some awe: in effect, he was 'the boy who beat his headmaster'!
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I learned something about "Scout's Honour" many years ago.
I was party to a prank (I hesitate to say instigator) at the expense of a fellow whom we regarded as a bit of a smartarse, bordering on bully, which caused
him moderate discomfiture.
Well, he went bawling to the deputy Scoutmaster, didn't he?
Come the dismissal parade, the question was asked, "Would those responsible for that, please step forward!"
Nobody moved.
The question was asked a couple more times, each with elevating intoned menace and still, nobody moved - after all, it wasn't all that serious, we reckoned
and, also, there were no witnesses, were there?
And besides, this kid was a pr1ck.
Now comes the heavy bit.
The Scoutmaster himself was called into it.
Drawing himself up to his full height (about 5'6"), and lowering his voice an octave, he roared ... "On your Scout's Honour, I want one person - just one,
that'll do - to step forward!"
Oh dear, thinks naïve little me, this puts a whole new complexion on things, doesn't it?
I duly took one pace forward.
Cutting a long story short, I refused to identify my co-conspirators and was banished to the Pointless Forest for a couple of weeks for the heinous sins
of initially being reluctant to self-incriminate .. and worse, to subsequently decline to dob in my mates down in the trenches.
"Scout's Honour" ... my arce!
p.s. No flying model aeroplanes were damaged in that incident, I hasten to add.
.
I was party to a prank (I hesitate to say instigator) at the expense of a fellow whom we regarded as a bit of a smartarse, bordering on bully, which caused
him moderate discomfiture.
Well, he went bawling to the deputy Scoutmaster, didn't he?
Come the dismissal parade, the question was asked, "Would those responsible for that, please step forward!"
Nobody moved.
The question was asked a couple more times, each with elevating intoned menace and still, nobody moved - after all, it wasn't all that serious, we reckoned
and, also, there were no witnesses, were there?
And besides, this kid was a pr1ck.
Now comes the heavy bit.
The Scoutmaster himself was called into it.
Drawing himself up to his full height (about 5'6"), and lowering his voice an octave, he roared ... "On your Scout's Honour, I want one person - just one,
that'll do - to step forward!"
Oh dear, thinks naïve little me, this puts a whole new complexion on things, doesn't it?
I duly took one pace forward.
Cutting a long story short, I refused to identify my co-conspirators and was banished to the Pointless Forest for a couple of weeks for the heinous sins
of initially being reluctant to self-incriminate .. and worse, to subsequently decline to dob in my mates down in the trenches.
"Scout's Honour" ... my arce!
p.s. No flying model aeroplanes were damaged in that incident, I hasten to add.
.
Last edited by Stanwell; 30th Jun 2016 at 05:45.
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MPN11 (#188) and NigG (#190),
Curiously, the US Army Air Corps adopted a similar idea for their Aviation 'Kay-Dets' (which included us, as they couldn't figure out what a 'LAC' was)' For minor offences, you were awarded "demerits". When a sufficient number of these had accumulated, you had to work them off "walking the ramp" (punishment drill).
When I was being educated at the tender hands of the Irish Christian Brothers in Blackpool, they had a far more ferocious system. Every Brother had a "Strap", with which he was authorised to inflict instant punishment on any evildoer detected. This instrument was perhaps ¼in thick, 15in long and 1½in wide of laminated leather, sewn together and very flexible. One end was shaped into a hand grip, so as to make it more effective.
It was administered on the palm of an outstretched hand (to inflict maximum pain without leaving any trace except for a temporary redness). St. Joseph's was a rugby school (two of our Brothers had been capped for Ireland in my time): the Brothers were mostly tough young men. The sight of one, striding dowm the corridor towards you, the handle of the strap sticking out from the black trouser pocket through the slit in his black cassock (for all the world like a Wild West gunslinger) was enough to make any small boy quail.
For really capital offences, you were sent round to the Headmaster's Study (he was the only one who could use the cane on the backside). But, as every schoolboy of my generation knew, a few folded newspapers stuffed down the trousers helped enormously.
Not far away, at lordly Stonyhurst, the Jesuits had a similar thing called a "ferula". Whether it was more digniifed to be walloped in Latin, I do not know. Ah, the joys of a Public School Education ! (The Headmaster of St. Joseph's would have been sent round to the Servant's Entrance if he dared to appear at the Headmasters' Conference !)
Danny.
...When I was at school, standing in the corner, hands behind your back, was a penalty for minor misdemeanors, like running in the corridor...
When I was being educated at the tender hands of the Irish Christian Brothers in Blackpool, they had a far more ferocious system. Every Brother had a "Strap", with which he was authorised to inflict instant punishment on any evildoer detected. This instrument was perhaps ¼in thick, 15in long and 1½in wide of laminated leather, sewn together and very flexible. One end was shaped into a hand grip, so as to make it more effective.
It was administered on the palm of an outstretched hand (to inflict maximum pain without leaving any trace except for a temporary redness). St. Joseph's was a rugby school (two of our Brothers had been capped for Ireland in my time): the Brothers were mostly tough young men. The sight of one, striding dowm the corridor towards you, the handle of the strap sticking out from the black trouser pocket through the slit in his black cassock (for all the world like a Wild West gunslinger) was enough to make any small boy quail.
For really capital offences, you were sent round to the Headmaster's Study (he was the only one who could use the cane on the backside). But, as every schoolboy of my generation knew, a few folded newspapers stuffed down the trousers helped enormously.
Not far away, at lordly Stonyhurst, the Jesuits had a similar thing called a "ferula". Whether it was more digniifed to be walloped in Latin, I do not know. Ah, the joys of a Public School Education ! (The Headmaster of St. Joseph's would have been sent round to the Servant's Entrance if he dared to appear at the Headmasters' Conference !)
Danny.
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Stanwell (#191),
Clearly, you were a Gentleman, Sir (there aren't many of us left !)
As "Aviation Cadets" (or reasonable facsimiles thereof) we were supposed to be governed by an "Honor System" handed down from West Point. Not only were we supposed to behave impeccably ourselves, but to report any infractions of the rules by our fellows.
An example would be, if you saw the chap in the row ahead at an exam "cribbing", you must "blow the whistle" on him. This ran absolutely contrary to our instincts; we made it clear to our Instructors that we would have nothing to do with it, if we transgressed, it would be up to them to catch us. Which they frequently did, and many 'demerits' were gained that way.
The practice of "hazing" served to reinforce a "them and us" mentality, the "Upper Class" came to believe that they actually were superior beings to the "Lower Classmen" whom they were entitled to humiliate in every possible way. Again this was anathema to us; from our standpoint, the whole student body should band together against the 'enemy' (the Instructional staff).
Of course, "Hazing" was a problem only between the last American class of Cadets and the first British one. At Carlstrom Field in Florida, (two Classes before mine) there was supposed to have been a riot in which the British Lower Class set upon the American Upper Class in a body, prevailed and threw them and their possessions into the camp pool. "Hazing" was suspended. (I have never seen any good evidence for this, and it's too late to find any now).
All this is a tiny blot on the cordial relations which all of us in the "Arnold Scheme" enjoyed with our hosts in the Army Air Corps. It may be ancient history now, but the (still neutral) US offered pilot and navigator training in their own schools to British airmen. In all, we sent out 7,000+ LACs up to 1943 (and got 4,000+ pilots back - the "washout" rate was horrendous). They also provided the six "British Flying Training Schools" (RAF commanded, but with mainly American civil flying instructors) which provided another 3,000+ pilots for us (with a much lower loss rate). This was of incalculable help in the darkest period of the war: roughly balancing the pilot losses in Bomber Command throughout.
Danny.
...I learned something about "Scout's Honour" many years ago...
As "Aviation Cadets" (or reasonable facsimiles thereof) we were supposed to be governed by an "Honor System" handed down from West Point. Not only were we supposed to behave impeccably ourselves, but to report any infractions of the rules by our fellows.
An example would be, if you saw the chap in the row ahead at an exam "cribbing", you must "blow the whistle" on him. This ran absolutely contrary to our instincts; we made it clear to our Instructors that we would have nothing to do with it, if we transgressed, it would be up to them to catch us. Which they frequently did, and many 'demerits' were gained that way.
The practice of "hazing" served to reinforce a "them and us" mentality, the "Upper Class" came to believe that they actually were superior beings to the "Lower Classmen" whom they were entitled to humiliate in every possible way. Again this was anathema to us; from our standpoint, the whole student body should band together against the 'enemy' (the Instructional staff).
Of course, "Hazing" was a problem only between the last American class of Cadets and the first British one. At Carlstrom Field in Florida, (two Classes before mine) there was supposed to have been a riot in which the British Lower Class set upon the American Upper Class in a body, prevailed and threw them and their possessions into the camp pool. "Hazing" was suspended. (I have never seen any good evidence for this, and it's too late to find any now).
All this is a tiny blot on the cordial relations which all of us in the "Arnold Scheme" enjoyed with our hosts in the Army Air Corps. It may be ancient history now, but the (still neutral) US offered pilot and navigator training in their own schools to British airmen. In all, we sent out 7,000+ LACs up to 1943 (and got 4,000+ pilots back - the "washout" rate was horrendous). They also provided the six "British Flying Training Schools" (RAF commanded, but with mainly American civil flying instructors) which provided another 3,000+ pilots for us (with a much lower loss rate). This was of incalculable help in the darkest period of the war: roughly balancing the pilot losses in Bomber Command throughout.
Danny.
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Stanwell
I have to say I view you, now, with renewed respect!
But I have to own-up to having been in the same testing position as your Scout Master. As a House Prefect at school, aged 18, I had recently been reading Montgomery's advice to young officers. In this he stressed the importance of 'moral courage'. That is, not courage that might be displayed under fire, but courage to 'do the right thing'; to 'do your duty'. His admonition came to me when, on one occasion, I happened to be passing the stairs to the more senior (fifth former) boys dormitory. It was after 'lights out' and the noise descending the stairwell was very substantial.
My dilemma: was I to pretend I heard nothing and walk on? Or should moral courage hold sway, and I ascend the stairs to inflict a suitable punishment on the miscreants. I knew that my fellow-prefects, had they been in the same situation, would have ignored it. But I decided that, guided by the wisdom of Montgomery, I was made of sterner stuff. As I came to the top of the creaking stairs, the hullabaloo fell to pin-drop silence. I walked in and gravely demanded to know who had been talking. Continued silence... not a soul would own-up. Thus the beginning of a long stand-off. After every lunchtime, thereon, the whole dormitory was required to assemble and await my arrival; whereupon, my request would be repeated: 'Who had been talking?' Day after day, no one would own-up. I even delivered homilies on courage and honour, but still no breakthrough. Eventually, I was starting to get desperate, lest I had to admit defeat and eat humble pie. My final proposition was that all I required was for one person to take the blame. Like Jesus himself, he would accept the ultimate penalty and redeem the sins of all. The ploy worked... at last I had a culprit!
It was widely held that he would really be 'for it', having held-out for so many days. But pride being such as it is, I bathed in my moral victory and felt no need to pursue the matter further. Of course, to my mind, I was right 'up there', ranking with a certain, distinguished Field Marshal.
I have to say I view you, now, with renewed respect!
But I have to own-up to having been in the same testing position as your Scout Master. As a House Prefect at school, aged 18, I had recently been reading Montgomery's advice to young officers. In this he stressed the importance of 'moral courage'. That is, not courage that might be displayed under fire, but courage to 'do the right thing'; to 'do your duty'. His admonition came to me when, on one occasion, I happened to be passing the stairs to the more senior (fifth former) boys dormitory. It was after 'lights out' and the noise descending the stairwell was very substantial.
My dilemma: was I to pretend I heard nothing and walk on? Or should moral courage hold sway, and I ascend the stairs to inflict a suitable punishment on the miscreants. I knew that my fellow-prefects, had they been in the same situation, would have ignored it. But I decided that, guided by the wisdom of Montgomery, I was made of sterner stuff. As I came to the top of the creaking stairs, the hullabaloo fell to pin-drop silence. I walked in and gravely demanded to know who had been talking. Continued silence... not a soul would own-up. Thus the beginning of a long stand-off. After every lunchtime, thereon, the whole dormitory was required to assemble and await my arrival; whereupon, my request would be repeated: 'Who had been talking?' Day after day, no one would own-up. I even delivered homilies on courage and honour, but still no breakthrough. Eventually, I was starting to get desperate, lest I had to admit defeat and eat humble pie. My final proposition was that all I required was for one person to take the blame. Like Jesus himself, he would accept the ultimate penalty and redeem the sins of all. The ploy worked... at last I had a culprit!
It was widely held that he would really be 'for it', having held-out for so many days. But pride being such as it is, I bathed in my moral victory and felt no need to pursue the matter further. Of course, to my mind, I was right 'up there', ranking with a certain, distinguished Field Marshal.
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Ah! .. The Catholic schoolboy's whipping club, eh?
Don't you worry, mate - we made sure they prematurely aged.
Just took a bit longer to sort the kiddy-fiddlers out, that's all.
Some sick people amongst that lot managed tarnish the really good ones - and that's sad.
Don't you worry, mate - we made sure they prematurely aged.
Just took a bit longer to sort the kiddy-fiddlers out, that's all.
Some sick people amongst that lot managed tarnish the really good ones - and that's sad.
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NigG,
Thanks for that profound post.
While this thread started off as a tribute to your distinguished father, I'm pleased that the Mods have allowed us the latitude to digress
in a similar way to the "Thread of Threads".
We've all, to a greater or lesser extent, been both pupils and teachers.
I was a military instructor at 20 ... Ahem.. What the **** did I know?
God knows, I'm still hoping to learn why I was put on this earth.
No doubt, you'd noticed my sharp little post above to do with the joys of undergoing, let's say, an Irish Catholic education.
I should say here and now that nothing undue happened to me personally, but..
The wheel of Karma turns only slowly - but, very surely, I'd noticed.
Whatever, I'm very grateful for the overall experience and, I'm sure Danny would agree, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
Now, I've only two things that I really want to whinge about...
1. Due to CDV, I wasn't able to pursue my real ambition, military or civil - that is, to have someone pay me to do it. - And, that was a disappointment.
2. The other thing is that I really don't have anything to whinge about - and that's a worry.
Cheers.
Thanks for that profound post.
While this thread started off as a tribute to your distinguished father, I'm pleased that the Mods have allowed us the latitude to digress
in a similar way to the "Thread of Threads".
We've all, to a greater or lesser extent, been both pupils and teachers.
I was a military instructor at 20 ... Ahem.. What the **** did I know?
God knows, I'm still hoping to learn why I was put on this earth.
No doubt, you'd noticed my sharp little post above to do with the joys of undergoing, let's say, an Irish Catholic education.
I should say here and now that nothing undue happened to me personally, but..
The wheel of Karma turns only slowly - but, very surely, I'd noticed.
Whatever, I'm very grateful for the overall experience and, I'm sure Danny would agree, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.
Now, I've only two things that I really want to whinge about...
1. Due to CDV, I wasn't able to pursue my real ambition, military or civil - that is, to have someone pay me to do it. - And, that was a disappointment.
2. The other thing is that I really don't have anything to whinge about - and that's a worry.
Cheers.
Last edited by Stanwell; 30th Jun 2016 at 22:10.
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Stanwell,
I know that the Christian Brothers, among many other educational bodies, have been getting a very bad Press in the paedophile-hunts of recent years, but all I can do is to speak of the time I was with them (nine years from 1929 to 1938).
I started as a "new bob" in the Christmas term of '29 at the tender age of seven. My school trunk opened to disclose my teddy-bear (put in without telling me by my dear old Mum to comfort me, complete with a pair of tiny striped flannel pyjamas which she [a skilled needlewoman] had made for him). Oh, the shame !
I left in '38 as the Senior Prefect. In all that time I never saw or heard of anything of that despicable kind - and I would certainly have heard if there had been the slightest suspicion of any such thing.
Certainly they drove us hard, but they turned out the exam successes, had a waiting list for places (annual fees [adjusted for wage inflation] £15,000 for boarders).
Danny.
I know that the Christian Brothers, among many other educational bodies, have been getting a very bad Press in the paedophile-hunts of recent years, but all I can do is to speak of the time I was with them (nine years from 1929 to 1938).
I started as a "new bob" in the Christmas term of '29 at the tender age of seven. My school trunk opened to disclose my teddy-bear (put in without telling me by my dear old Mum to comfort me, complete with a pair of tiny striped flannel pyjamas which she [a skilled needlewoman] had made for him). Oh, the shame !
I left in '38 as the Senior Prefect. In all that time I never saw or heard of anything of that despicable kind - and I would certainly have heard if there had been the slightest suspicion of any such thing.
Certainly they drove us hard, but they turned out the exam successes, had a waiting list for places (annual fees [adjusted for wage inflation] £15,000 for boarders).
Danny.
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Quite so, Danny.
Aside from the tawdry bits, our school did, in the main, turn out a good product.
One of the kids I was in the school cadets with, went from private to Chief of our Defence Force and, subsequently, Governor-General of Australia.
His name is Peter Cosgrove.
Aside from the tawdry bits, our school did, in the main, turn out a good product.
One of the kids I was in the school cadets with, went from private to Chief of our Defence Force and, subsequently, Governor-General of Australia.
His name is Peter Cosgrove.
On a point of accuracy, in a thread which is drifting, gossamer-like, in various interesting directions, I think that what Danny used to shrink the tissue on his models would have not have been banana oil, but clear dope, probably JoyPlane or Titanine, suitably thinned to prevent the wing turning into a pretzel.. We used banana oil to give a bit of damp-proofing to a doped surface, (still do, in fact) but it didn't shrink. Sleeping in the room in which most of us did our model building and doping, with the heady atmosphere of amyl acetate to lull us to sleep doesn't seem to have done us much harm. Nobody died. Going to Boots at the age of twelve to collect one's order of a pint of ether and four ounces of amyl nitrate to mix diesel fuel didn't seem to cause alarm bells to ring either. Where did it all go wrong...?