Wg Cdr Arthur Gill, OBE, DFC
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Danny
With regard to Mt Abu Hill Station being leased, you concluded that this would have been so, as it was post-Independence. No, I think you were on the right track earlier. Wiki explains that the land belonged to the Rajah, being a princely State. So the Brits, not owning the land, had to cough-up in order to take advantage of the cool of the hills and build a Station. The British Resident made Mt Abu his base, very sensibly.
Also, I wrote:
'women now play a full part in the Service. Arthur had rather traditional views on the latter: seeing women as being good in certain roles, such as clerical work. Times change... and sometimes for the better.'
You replied:
'Matter of opinion!'
I thought I was cutting it a bit fine now and again! You, Sir, hold your life cheap! Don't you realise how many women are out there who would part you from your nearest and dearest for saying something only half so deprecating about women-kind? My advice is: keep your online anonymity in-tact... at all costs!
All women who happen to come across this post, please don't get confused. I am the one who thinks women have been under-rated for centuries. Danny is the one who doesn't! (Danny is also a lot more courageous than I am... a quality that's fully counter-balanced by his tendency to chauvinism!)
With regard to Mt Abu Hill Station being leased, you concluded that this would have been so, as it was post-Independence. No, I think you were on the right track earlier. Wiki explains that the land belonged to the Rajah, being a princely State. So the Brits, not owning the land, had to cough-up in order to take advantage of the cool of the hills and build a Station. The British Resident made Mt Abu his base, very sensibly.
Also, I wrote:
'women now play a full part in the Service. Arthur had rather traditional views on the latter: seeing women as being good in certain roles, such as clerical work. Times change... and sometimes for the better.'
You replied:
'Matter of opinion!'
I thought I was cutting it a bit fine now and again! You, Sir, hold your life cheap! Don't you realise how many women are out there who would part you from your nearest and dearest for saying something only half so deprecating about women-kind? My advice is: keep your online anonymity in-tact... at all costs!
All women who happen to come across this post, please don't get confused. I am the one who thinks women have been under-rated for centuries. Danny is the one who doesn't! (Danny is also a lot more courageous than I am... a quality that's fully counter-balanced by his tendency to chauvinism!)
Last edited by NigG; 11th Jul 2016 at 09:25.
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Learning the Hard Way.
Stanwell (extending my #234),
First, it turned out that "a properly handled capital ship could not beat off air attack". This opened the door for the Jap armies to complete their conquest of colonial Asia (to this day, no one really knows why they stopped at the back door of India [for there was little to stop them going on]; the most probable explanation is that their LoC were just too long to stretch any further).
Even so, if they had pushed on just the short distance North to take Chittagong, it would have made the eventual reconquest of Burma much harder, for they then would have had a deep-water port to ship in supplies and reinforcements.
Then do you remember how we chuckled at the funny little Jap motorcycles when they first appeared in UK ? Then we woke up one day to find that we didn't have a motorcycle industry any more ? Much the same happened in the air. The "flimsy litle things which would fall apart if hit" turned out to be the carrier-based Mitsuibishi "Zero" and its similar, but less glamourous land based Nakajima "Oscar", the bane of our lives in Burma.
The Japanese designers had taken to heart Igor Sikorski's famous exhortation: "Simplicate and add more lightness" (we tend to favour the opposite view). The result was that the Zeros and Oscars could "Float like a Butterfly, Sting like a Bee" (to coin a phrase ?) They could run rings round our more heavily armed and heavier fighters. In our case, the Hurricane IICs could blow an Oscar to bits if they could only get it in their sights - but the Jap pilot would need to be asleep for that to happen. It was only the strange myopia of the Japanese Army Commanders which saved our VVs being massacred in the air like the Battles in France (or the Wirraways in Rabaul).
They held the Oscars on the ground, wasting them in ineffective "sweeps" to strafe opportunity targets on our side. Why they did this is another of the unanswered questions of the war. It was not until the Spitfires came out in number that we had an answer to the Oscar.
Danny.
...we had a rude awakening...
Even so, if they had pushed on just the short distance North to take Chittagong, it would have made the eventual reconquest of Burma much harder, for they then would have had a deep-water port to ship in supplies and reinforcements.
Then do you remember how we chuckled at the funny little Jap motorcycles when they first appeared in UK ? Then we woke up one day to find that we didn't have a motorcycle industry any more ? Much the same happened in the air. The "flimsy litle things which would fall apart if hit" turned out to be the carrier-based Mitsuibishi "Zero" and its similar, but less glamourous land based Nakajima "Oscar", the bane of our lives in Burma.
...In spite of its drawbacks, the Ki-43 [Oscar] shot down more Allied aircraft than any other Japanese fighter and almost all the JAAF's aces achieved most of their kills in it. (Wiki) [citation needed]...
They held the Oscars on the ground, wasting them in ineffective "sweeps" to strafe opportunity targets on our side. Why they did this is another of the unanswered questions of the war. It was not until the Spitfires came out in number that we had an answer to the Oscar.
Danny.
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....the most probable explanation is that their LoC were just too long to stretch any further)... It was only the strange myopia of the Japanese Army Commanders which saved our VVs being massacred in the air... They held the Oscars on the ground, wasting them in ineffective "sweeps" to strafe opportunity targets on our side.
The Japanese were on the back foot even before their failed thrust into India in 1944. Though the Japanese were extremely hard and courageous fighters, the Allies were much better resourced. And never let it be forgotten that the 14th Army achieved their victory in 1945 only because of the outstanding work done by the RAF and USAAF. Books about the campaign tend to paint the Air Force as being in a minor, supportive role, when in fact they were a decisive factor... as General Slim, the 14th Army commander, had no hesitation in admitting.
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Before leaving the topic of Hill Stations, Danny, Arthur had a special memory of one of these places. The background to the tale was that, wherever they were posted, he always made a point of seeking out suitable priests to administer to the squadron.
At Ranchi, he came across a Catholic priest by the name of Father Jacquemotte. He was a Belgian in charge of a Mission in the vicinity. While having a drink with him in the Mess, Arthur learned that the priest had, with the fall of Belgium in WW1, escaped and joined the RFC, which whom he flew over the Western Front. The Germans had forbidden all Belgians from escaping to join the Allies, with the consequence that his family were rounded-up and executed, as an example to all. Arthur asked him when he had last flown, to which he replied that it was not since WW1. So he was offered a flight in the back of a 'Vengeance'.
As they walked out to the aircraft, Arthur asked what he would like to do... some aerobatics, a vertical dive or a low level flight. Jacquamotte's reply was 'Let's beat-up the Mission!' and this they proceeded to do, at low level and with repeated passes. Down below, was a sight to behold. All the nuns, priests and other staff came rushing out, madly waving sheets and aprons. The following day, a wooden box appeared on Arthur's desk. Inside was three bottles of vintage red wine, with a note that said 'NOT FOR MASS!'
Some weeks later, Father Jacquamotte told Arthur that he was looking very tired and that if he could take a few days off, he would arrange a short holiday for him. He was indeed tired and so agreed to his offer. Taking 84 Squadron's Equipment Officer with him, Arthur flew to Calcutta. There, the pair took the narrow-gauge 'Toy Train' up into the hills to arrive at the Hill Station of Darjeeling. They were guests in the Bishop's Palace and, in the absence of the Bishop, were given the use of his suite. The food and wine were excellent and, as a favour, Arthur presented the Sports Day prizes at the Catholic girls' school. The most memorable moment, however, was to for them be be up before dawn. They walked to a viewpoint and there before them was a panorama of the mighty Himalayas. Most prominent was the snowy peak of Kangchenjunga bathed, exquisitely, in the orange light of the rising sun.
Arthur said that his time at Darjeeling was truly a delight and that he and 'Pat' returned to the Squadron as 'new men'.
At Ranchi, he came across a Catholic priest by the name of Father Jacquemotte. He was a Belgian in charge of a Mission in the vicinity. While having a drink with him in the Mess, Arthur learned that the priest had, with the fall of Belgium in WW1, escaped and joined the RFC, which whom he flew over the Western Front. The Germans had forbidden all Belgians from escaping to join the Allies, with the consequence that his family were rounded-up and executed, as an example to all. Arthur asked him when he had last flown, to which he replied that it was not since WW1. So he was offered a flight in the back of a 'Vengeance'.
As they walked out to the aircraft, Arthur asked what he would like to do... some aerobatics, a vertical dive or a low level flight. Jacquamotte's reply was 'Let's beat-up the Mission!' and this they proceeded to do, at low level and with repeated passes. Down below, was a sight to behold. All the nuns, priests and other staff came rushing out, madly waving sheets and aprons. The following day, a wooden box appeared on Arthur's desk. Inside was three bottles of vintage red wine, with a note that said 'NOT FOR MASS!'
Some weeks later, Father Jacquamotte told Arthur that he was looking very tired and that if he could take a few days off, he would arrange a short holiday for him. He was indeed tired and so agreed to his offer. Taking 84 Squadron's Equipment Officer with him, Arthur flew to Calcutta. There, the pair took the narrow-gauge 'Toy Train' up into the hills to arrive at the Hill Station of Darjeeling. They were guests in the Bishop's Palace and, in the absence of the Bishop, were given the use of his suite. The food and wine were excellent and, as a favour, Arthur presented the Sports Day prizes at the Catholic girls' school. The most memorable moment, however, was to for them be be up before dawn. They walked to a viewpoint and there before them was a panorama of the mighty Himalayas. Most prominent was the snowy peak of Kangchenjunga bathed, exquisitely, in the orange light of the rising sun.
Arthur said that his time at Darjeeling was truly a delight and that he and 'Pat' returned to the Squadron as 'new men'.
Last edited by NigG; 11th Jul 2016 at 16:47.
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Thanks for that insightful post, Danny.
Because (what we called) the South-West Pacific Area of operations was mainly the province of the Imperial Japanese Navy, the Mitsubishi A6M 'Zero' was our main worry.
The Ki-43 'Oscar' that you chaps had to deal with, I believe was every bit the equal of the legendary 'Zero' in capability.
Just as an aside, a late mentor of mine in the 60s, an old aviator by the name of Sid Marshall, had a complete and original 'Oscar' in his hangar.
'Knowledgeable' passers-by told their friends it was a Zero.
To complement that, he had a similarly complete and original Messerschmitt Bf109G hung from the rafters.
Additionally, just BTW, he also had, among other things, a couple of Spitfire Mk.VIIIs in his backyard.
I know, because I'd sat in them making 'vroom-vroom' noises.
I also had an inkling that, at the time, he had his eye on that Vultee Vengeance, EZ999, that we'd discussed previously.
People tended to regard him as a bit of an eccentric 'junk collector'.
NigG,
I quite agree on the score of the Japanese LoC/logistics capability.
It became reasonably apparent to us down here in the SWPA from 1943, if not earlier.
I can only think that the Jap 'senior management' were thinking they could keep us guessing for long enough to give them time to work out what to do.
Besides, they had the Emperor's blessing.
.
Because (what we called) the South-West Pacific Area of operations was mainly the province of the Imperial Japanese Navy, the Mitsubishi A6M 'Zero' was our main worry.
The Ki-43 'Oscar' that you chaps had to deal with, I believe was every bit the equal of the legendary 'Zero' in capability.
Just as an aside, a late mentor of mine in the 60s, an old aviator by the name of Sid Marshall, had a complete and original 'Oscar' in his hangar.
'Knowledgeable' passers-by told their friends it was a Zero.
To complement that, he had a similarly complete and original Messerschmitt Bf109G hung from the rafters.
Additionally, just BTW, he also had, among other things, a couple of Spitfire Mk.VIIIs in his backyard.
I know, because I'd sat in them making 'vroom-vroom' noises.
I also had an inkling that, at the time, he had his eye on that Vultee Vengeance, EZ999, that we'd discussed previously.
People tended to regard him as a bit of an eccentric 'junk collector'.
NigG,
I quite agree on the score of the Japanese LoC/logistics capability.
It became reasonably apparent to us down here in the SWPA from 1943, if not earlier.
I can only think that the Jap 'senior management' were thinking they could keep us guessing for long enough to give them time to work out what to do.
Besides, they had the Emperor's blessing.
.
Last edited by Stanwell; 11th Jul 2016 at 12:33.
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Discretion is sometimes the better part of valour !
NigG (#243),
A thoughtful analysis of the critical campaign in the WWII Burma war. But in the early days, before the tide turned, it was a desperate affair, with our only objective being to stem the Japanese advance with whatever we'd got - which was not much. Indeed, when we were sent out in autumn 1942, India was widely regarded at home as a probable lost cause. We were intended to fly anything there was to hold off the Japs in a "last stand" to enable as many Europeans as possible to be evacuated before we were overrun.
Now we know that the line was held, and from 1944 we got on top of the Japs to carry the war to its sudden conclusion the next year. I have read that more Japanese soldiers were killed in Burma by British and Indian troops than in all the American Pacific island battles put together (but have no authority for this).
One small cavil:
They hadn't. But all it would take was a single pair of Oscars, well handled, to destroy a box of six Vengeance. Of course there was no radar, and no other early warning systems, and Burma is a big place. But our strikes on their defensive bunkers were so regular and predictable, that you would think it worth their while to put up a pair on patrol "on spec" for a day or two.
Our chosen tactic was to stick together, stand and fight. But half our six rear twin 0.303s were handled by navs with no gunnery training at all, or by ex-Blenheim turret chaps who'd last fired a round the year before. The omens were not good.
And the Hurricanes, who'd done the fighter affiliation exercises with us at Dum Dum, said that our box of six was so unhandy that they would have no trouble in keeping us in their sights. Very occasionally we had an escort of a section of Hurricanes. One pair would fly high cover, and the other guard our tails. We said these huddled close to us to enjoy the protection of our rear guns ! Obviously, a better idea would have been for us to scatter and run ! The Oscars might get one (or two), but otherwise they'd bag the lot. It was always "on the cards" - but luckily it never happened, but nobody knew why.
Danny.
A thoughtful analysis of the critical campaign in the WWII Burma war. But in the early days, before the tide turned, it was a desperate affair, with our only objective being to stem the Japanese advance with whatever we'd got - which was not much. Indeed, when we were sent out in autumn 1942, India was widely regarded at home as a probable lost cause. We were intended to fly anything there was to hold off the Japs in a "last stand" to enable as many Europeans as possible to be evacuated before we were overrun.
Now we know that the line was held, and from 1944 we got on top of the Japs to carry the war to its sudden conclusion the next year. I have read that more Japanese soldiers were killed in Burma by British and Indian troops than in all the American Pacific island battles put together (but have no authority for this).
One small cavil:
.... It's rather doubtful that they had the means to conduct an effective fighter air defence...
Our chosen tactic was to stick together, stand and fight. But half our six rear twin 0.303s were handled by navs with no gunnery training at all, or by ex-Blenheim turret chaps who'd last fired a round the year before. The omens were not good.
And the Hurricanes, who'd done the fighter affiliation exercises with us at Dum Dum, said that our box of six was so unhandy that they would have no trouble in keeping us in their sights. Very occasionally we had an escort of a section of Hurricanes. One pair would fly high cover, and the other guard our tails. We said these huddled close to us to enjoy the protection of our rear guns ! Obviously, a better idea would have been for us to scatter and run ! The Oscars might get one (or two), but otherwise they'd bag the lot. It was always "on the cards" - but luckily it never happened, but nobody knew why.
Danny.
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Danny
... Interesting (as always). I had a look through Arthur's log book and noted that of the 108 operations he conducted over Burma, 4 were aborted in the air due to Jap aircraft being reported in the target area; on one occasion they saw 'bandits' heading in a different direction; and another occasion Arthur encountered Jap Oscars while in a 'Spitfire' (and brought one down).
A note at the end of March '44 states: 'Over 336 sorties carried out by Japanese fighters and bombers over N. Burma front, during last fortnight.' So, as you say, the Japanese were around but didn't make a concerted effort to protect key targets from Allied bombers (for whatever reason).
(Above: Japanese Ki-43 'Oscar' fighter. School girls wave-off a kamikaze.)
I was interested, recently, to play the tape of his interview at the Imperial War Museum. Usuallly he talked with an air of nonchalance about his shooting down of the Oscar. On the tape, he was more candid. He was using the squadron's weather recce Spitfire to check the weather before the squadron took off on an operation. This was to avoid wasted fuel and aircraft hours if the cloud was impossible. He had dived through heavy cloud down to 4000' at which point he saw two Oscars 1500' above him. In the tape he admitted that he reacted as any bomber pilot might and scuttled for cloud cover. On coming out a few moments later, there was a single Oscar in front of him. He said 'Taking my courage in both hands... baring in mind I was a bomber pilot... I closed in'. Apparently he made the beginner's mistake of opening fire when too far away and consequently missed. He then got closer and fired again, seeing cannon shells strike home. Bits flew off the plane, which then turned on it's back and dived vertically into cloud over the mountain tops. He was at first credited with a 'probable kill', but this was later changed to 'confirmed' after an artillery unit confirmed the destruction of the Oscar.
This particular (taped) account was a rare instance of his talking frankly about his emotions. Invariably he was blase about his experiences, as if he was reluctant to admit to moments of 'weakness'. (Maybe that's a military man's thing?) But then he didn't have the skilled raconteur's gift of capturing the audience's imagination by fully sharing the moment. You Danny, of course, have that gift, as your many descriptions reveal. Most notably, the story of the loss of your aircraft. (page 8, post 154)
... Interesting (as always). I had a look through Arthur's log book and noted that of the 108 operations he conducted over Burma, 4 were aborted in the air due to Jap aircraft being reported in the target area; on one occasion they saw 'bandits' heading in a different direction; and another occasion Arthur encountered Jap Oscars while in a 'Spitfire' (and brought one down).
A note at the end of March '44 states: 'Over 336 sorties carried out by Japanese fighters and bombers over N. Burma front, during last fortnight.' So, as you say, the Japanese were around but didn't make a concerted effort to protect key targets from Allied bombers (for whatever reason).
(Above: Japanese Ki-43 'Oscar' fighter. School girls wave-off a kamikaze.)
I was interested, recently, to play the tape of his interview at the Imperial War Museum. Usuallly he talked with an air of nonchalance about his shooting down of the Oscar. On the tape, he was more candid. He was using the squadron's weather recce Spitfire to check the weather before the squadron took off on an operation. This was to avoid wasted fuel and aircraft hours if the cloud was impossible. He had dived through heavy cloud down to 4000' at which point he saw two Oscars 1500' above him. In the tape he admitted that he reacted as any bomber pilot might and scuttled for cloud cover. On coming out a few moments later, there was a single Oscar in front of him. He said 'Taking my courage in both hands... baring in mind I was a bomber pilot... I closed in'. Apparently he made the beginner's mistake of opening fire when too far away and consequently missed. He then got closer and fired again, seeing cannon shells strike home. Bits flew off the plane, which then turned on it's back and dived vertically into cloud over the mountain tops. He was at first credited with a 'probable kill', but this was later changed to 'confirmed' after an artillery unit confirmed the destruction of the Oscar.
This particular (taped) account was a rare instance of his talking frankly about his emotions. Invariably he was blase about his experiences, as if he was reluctant to admit to moments of 'weakness'. (Maybe that's a military man's thing?) But then he didn't have the skilled raconteur's gift of capturing the audience's imagination by fully sharing the moment. You Danny, of course, have that gift, as your many descriptions reveal. Most notably, the story of the loss of your aircraft. (page 8, post 154)
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NigG (your #244),
The RAF adopted that as policy in RAF(G) in 1960. Not enough RC chaplains to go round. At Geilenkirchen they recruited a Pater Gregor (a Cappuchiner [sub-species of Franciscan] from the monastery of Watersleyde just over the border in Holland). A genial white-haired, tough old Bavarian from Ulm, he spoke perfect, accent-free English (POW ? - never asked, should've done, he might have been in a Me109 in 1940 - so would have had a good long time to learn English).
Of course, the RAF paid him a stipend (which his Order would pocket - for he cannot sell his services) - and sent transport there and back for him on Sundays). Often had him for lunch with us. Knowing I was trying to learn colloquial German, he got his Abt to invite me over for a few hours one evening a week, where they put me in with a monk who knew no English (no mean feat in Holland) and left us to get on with it. Final triumph: told him the legend of St. Swithin and the forty days of rain (July 15th coming up, btw ?) The legend, it seems, not then known in Germany. It is now.
We could hear Mass in the RC Church in town, and it was still the Tridentine in Latin, but the first fruits of Vatican II were coming in. Sermon had always been in German, but now Epistle, Gospel and Paternoster too. But the Masses were of a formality strange to us: men one side of the aisle, women and children on the other. A robed Beadle with a massive rod of office stalked the aisle, marshalling newcomers to the correct side. A fearsome boss on his rod made it clearly inadvisable to argue.
Long excerpt from my "Pilot's Brevet" p.151 #3019 (the rest of it may be of interest):
The would have taken the overnight broad-gauge train up to Siliguri first, at dawn changing to the narrow-gauge "toy train" of "switchback railway" fame to complete the journey.
Jammy ! The best I could do was to meet the Assistant Principal RC Chaplain while recuperating in Calcutta. As a Group Captain, Fr. Feeny was allowed temporary membership of the Bengal Club, which turned away anyone under the rank of full Colonel or equivalent. He invited us to lunch there as his guests. Snag: "Stew" was still a Warrant Officer. Solution: borrow somebody else's cap and P/O's shoulder cuffs, "Stew" takes off his wristband with the "Two Dogs Fighting". Very reprehensible, of course, and the padre would have been chucked out of the Club had it been discovered, but we got away with it, had a superb lunch, and "Stew" was commissioned soon after anyway.
Marvellous pic ! Went up to Darjeeling once (night train from Calcutta Sealdah station), got up at sparrow-fart and climbed (?) Tiger Hill. Everest in cloud, see nothing, waste of time, might just as well stayed in bed and bought postcard.
Have a little b/w print (94x40mm) in logbook, taken by "Stew" from back of VV at 10,000 ft one morning on Nepal boundary (70 miles south of Everest - whole story somewhere on my Posts).
There was a good (true ?) story about the affinity between the juice of the grape and the RC clergy. Airfield in Burma is soon going to be overrun by advancing Jap troops in 1942. Squadron is getting ready to pull back. RC Padre is heartbroken by thought of leaving the Messes' stocks of wines and spirits to fall into enemy hands. Son of the soil as he was, he digs hole, buries the lot in Mess garden, and reinstates turf so expertly that no sign of any disturbance.
Tide of battle turns, Squadron and Padre comes back to same place. Padre grabs spade and digs. All there still - but all labels have come off and rotted. Only thing to do now, open them all and taste. Well, it's an awful job, but someone's got to do it....
Finished as a Monseigneur, I believe (honorary award, sort of "Long service and Good Conduct" badge). Well merited, I would've said. Should have been put up for a MBE.
(your #247),
Spare my blushes ! All it is, of course, is just the "Gift of the Gab" which comes with my Irish ancestry. Any one who has it can "talk the hind legs off a donkey", as my dear old Mum used to say.
Too long, sorry, Mr Moderator.
Danny.
...Before leaving the topic of Hill Stations, Danny, Arthur had a special memory of one of these places. The background to the tale was that, wherever they were posted, he always made a point of seeking out suitable priests to administer to the squadron...At Ranchi, he came across a Catholic priest by the name of Father Jacquemotte. He was a Belgian in charge of a Mission in the vicinity...
Of course, the RAF paid him a stipend (which his Order would pocket - for he cannot sell his services) - and sent transport there and back for him on Sundays). Often had him for lunch with us. Knowing I was trying to learn colloquial German, he got his Abt to invite me over for a few hours one evening a week, where they put me in with a monk who knew no English (no mean feat in Holland) and left us to get on with it. Final triumph: told him the legend of St. Swithin and the forty days of rain (July 15th coming up, btw ?) The legend, it seems, not then known in Germany. It is now.
We could hear Mass in the RC Church in town, and it was still the Tridentine in Latin, but the first fruits of Vatican II were coming in. Sermon had always been in German, but now Epistle, Gospel and Paternoster too. But the Masses were of a formality strange to us: men one side of the aisle, women and children on the other. A robed Beadle with a massive rod of office stalked the aisle, marshalling newcomers to the correct side. A fearsome boss on his rod made it clearly inadvisable to argue.
...Down below, was a sight to behold. All the nuns, priests and other staff came rushing out, madly waving sheets and aprons...
...My debut at Cholaveram did not go down too well. Besides our Calibration Flight, there was another Flight of some kind on the field, and for the life of me I can't remember what they did. But to do it they had one Vengeance, among other types. It so happened that a snag on this aircraft had just been fixed. It needed an airtest and their own pilot was away. Could I do the airtest for them? Of course! Now it was a point of honour for the mechanic who had done the repair to fly as a passenger on the subsequent airtest. Not only for the obvious reason, but because the lads did not get many opportunities to fly, and enjoyed those they did.
My chap was keen, I organised a chute and a helmet for him, strapped him in, and off we went. I later found that their driver was non-operational, hadn't many hours on the thing, and was quite happy to get it from A to B straight and level and land. He'd ask no more from an aircraft on test. An operational Squadron pilot, on the other hand, would put a Vengeance through all its paces. After all, the next trip may well be a bombing sortie: if anything's going to fall off, you may as well find out now.
I told my passenger what I intended to do. He was agreeable, so after satisfying myself that the original fault had been fixed, I took it up to 12,000 ft, did a couple of loops and rolls, then finished off with a dive down on my passenger's Flight HQ. It was a good vertical dive, too, if I say so myself.
Now seven tons of metal screaming straight down on you at 300 mph, the row amplified by the slatted dive brakes and open bomb doors, is enough to make the stoutest heart quail, even if not followed by the thick end of a ton of bombs. (I believe the Stukas used this technique to stampede refugees off the roads in advance of their armour, and they had some sort of siren to make even more noise).
Our old squadron ground crews would take this racket in their stride, and not even bother to look up. But these people weren't so hardened. I don't suppose their Vengeance had ever been dived. It hadn't occurred to me, and if my passenger had thought about it at all, he kept quiet with a wicked grin. I scared the life out of them. Those indoors dived under tables, sending files, ashtrays and glasses of tea flying. In the open, they dropped flat, convinced their last hour had come. Their sweepers, char- and punkah-wallahs ran like rabbits, and it took days to round them up.
I was persona non grata there after that. They chalked up a notice on their crewroom blackboard: "VENGEANCE - NO AEROBATICS, NO VIOLENT DIVES" Then their own chap came back and managed to write it off (he was unhurt). Some wag added: "NO VENGEANCE". They complained to Freddie, but got no change out of him. The Station Commander/PMC reproved me with a broad grin.
My chap was keen, I organised a chute and a helmet for him, strapped him in, and off we went. I later found that their driver was non-operational, hadn't many hours on the thing, and was quite happy to get it from A to B straight and level and land. He'd ask no more from an aircraft on test. An operational Squadron pilot, on the other hand, would put a Vengeance through all its paces. After all, the next trip may well be a bombing sortie: if anything's going to fall off, you may as well find out now.
I told my passenger what I intended to do. He was agreeable, so after satisfying myself that the original fault had been fixed, I took it up to 12,000 ft, did a couple of loops and rolls, then finished off with a dive down on my passenger's Flight HQ. It was a good vertical dive, too, if I say so myself.
Now seven tons of metal screaming straight down on you at 300 mph, the row amplified by the slatted dive brakes and open bomb doors, is enough to make the stoutest heart quail, even if not followed by the thick end of a ton of bombs. (I believe the Stukas used this technique to stampede refugees off the roads in advance of their armour, and they had some sort of siren to make even more noise).
Our old squadron ground crews would take this racket in their stride, and not even bother to look up. But these people weren't so hardened. I don't suppose their Vengeance had ever been dived. It hadn't occurred to me, and if my passenger had thought about it at all, he kept quiet with a wicked grin. I scared the life out of them. Those indoors dived under tables, sending files, ashtrays and glasses of tea flying. In the open, they dropped flat, convinced their last hour had come. Their sweepers, char- and punkah-wallahs ran like rabbits, and it took days to round them up.
I was persona non grata there after that. They chalked up a notice on their crewroom blackboard: "VENGEANCE - NO AEROBATICS, NO VIOLENT DIVES" Then their own chap came back and managed to write it off (he was unhurt). Some wag added: "NO VENGEANCE". They complained to Freddie, but got no change out of him. The Station Commander/PMC reproved me with a broad grin.
...There [Ranchi - in W. Bengal], the pair took the narrow-gauge 'Toy Train' up into the hills to arrive at the Hill Station of Darjeeling...
...They were guests in the Bishop's Palace and...
...They walked to a viewpoint and there before them was a panorama of the mighty Himalayas. Most prominent was the snowy peak of Kangchenjunga bathed, exquisitely, in the orange light of the rising sun...
Have a little b/w print (94x40mm) in logbook, taken by "Stew" from back of VV at 10,000 ft one morning on Nepal boundary (70 miles south of Everest - whole story somewhere on my Posts).
...The following day, a wooden box appeared on Arthur's desk. Inside was three bottles of vintage red wine, with a note that said 'NOT FOR MASS!.
Tide of battle turns, Squadron and Padre comes back to same place. Padre grabs spade and digs. All there still - but all labels have come off and rotted. Only thing to do now, open them all and taste. Well, it's an awful job, but someone's got to do it....
Finished as a Monseigneur, I believe (honorary award, sort of "Long service and Good Conduct" badge). Well merited, I would've said. Should have been put up for a MBE.
(your #247),
...You Danny, of course, have that gift, as your many descriptions reveal...
Too long, sorry, Mr Moderator.
Danny.
Last edited by Danny42C; 13th Jul 2016 at 21:02. Reason: Typos.
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I'll second NigG's observation of your 'gift' ,Danny.
Your description of the VV test over Cholaveram and its effects upon those below, when originally posted on 'Brevet', had me almost wetting myself.
It did the same to me this time around.
I was having trouble communicating to the missus that there was no need to call an ambulance.
Your description of the VV test over Cholaveram and its effects upon those below, when originally posted on 'Brevet', had me almost wetting myself.
It did the same to me this time around.
I was having trouble communicating to the missus that there was no need to call an ambulance.
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"....Down and down you go...."
Stanwell,
Glad to hear that my story raised a chortle or two ! But it was really rather naughty of me. Although I did a lot of practice dives at the beginning (when we were working out, by trial and error, how to dive-bomb), and a fair number operationally, unnecessary dives were frowned upon after the Vengeance had been pulled off 'ops' on the onset of the '44 monsoon.
Although I have said, and it is true, that our technique was safe provided you did it absolutely right, and kept an eye on your altimeter, you have a lot to do in the twenty seconds. The "normal" VV accident (particularly at the OTU) was to go in at the bottom. Of course, the chap was not around to tell us how it happened.
There was always a degree of risk. I never did it again, would never had authorised it, and my pilots at Cannanore (none with any VV 'op' time) were strictly forbidden even to think about it.
Danny.
Glad to hear that my story raised a chortle or two ! But it was really rather naughty of me. Although I did a lot of practice dives at the beginning (when we were working out, by trial and error, how to dive-bomb), and a fair number operationally, unnecessary dives were frowned upon after the Vengeance had been pulled off 'ops' on the onset of the '44 monsoon.
Although I have said, and it is true, that our technique was safe provided you did it absolutely right, and kept an eye on your altimeter, you have a lot to do in the twenty seconds. The "normal" VV accident (particularly at the OTU) was to go in at the bottom. Of course, the chap was not around to tell us how it happened.
There was always a degree of risk. I never did it again, would never had authorised it, and my pilots at Cannanore (none with any VV 'op' time) were strictly forbidden even to think about it.
Danny.
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Danny
Your story of the air test of a Vengeance at Cholavrum, and your resulting unpopularity, reminds me of one of Arthur's antics.
(Arthur flying a Blenheim Mk1, off the Isle of Man, for radar calibration)
His first posting of the war was to Jurby, on the Isle of Man, where he was a staff pilot, taking trainee aircrew up to practice their various skills: notably bomb-aiming and gunnery over the sea. While there he got to know a family by the name of McKay. The father had owned a laundry business in York, but moved his wife and two daughters to the Isle of Man to escape the expected German bombing of mainland cities.
A good looking young man, Arthur was bit of a young woman magnet, and before long became good friends with one of the daughters. The family had a house overlooking the sea and Patricia asked him to zoom over the house sometime. This he did one day, on his way back from a training sortie. He lined up his Blenheim with the house, climbing up from sea level, intent on giving the roof timbers a good shaking. Fortune would have it that although his flying skills were spot on, his timing wasn't. Mrs McKay was at that moment sitting up in bed with a tray of tea balanced on her lap. As the two Bristol Mercury engines blasted over head, the outcome might easily be imagined... the whole lot went airborne and back down over her and the bed clothes.
He remarked:'After that, I was not at all popular, but to her great credit, Mrs McKay said nothing about it on my next (very much quieter) visit to her house!'
Your story of the air test of a Vengeance at Cholavrum, and your resulting unpopularity, reminds me of one of Arthur's antics.
(Arthur flying a Blenheim Mk1, off the Isle of Man, for radar calibration)
His first posting of the war was to Jurby, on the Isle of Man, where he was a staff pilot, taking trainee aircrew up to practice their various skills: notably bomb-aiming and gunnery over the sea. While there he got to know a family by the name of McKay. The father had owned a laundry business in York, but moved his wife and two daughters to the Isle of Man to escape the expected German bombing of mainland cities.
A good looking young man, Arthur was bit of a young woman magnet, and before long became good friends with one of the daughters. The family had a house overlooking the sea and Patricia asked him to zoom over the house sometime. This he did one day, on his way back from a training sortie. He lined up his Blenheim with the house, climbing up from sea level, intent on giving the roof timbers a good shaking. Fortune would have it that although his flying skills were spot on, his timing wasn't. Mrs McKay was at that moment sitting up in bed with a tray of tea balanced on her lap. As the two Bristol Mercury engines blasted over head, the outcome might easily be imagined... the whole lot went airborne and back down over her and the bed clothes.
He remarked:'After that, I was not at all popular, but to her great credit, Mrs McKay said nothing about it on my next (very much quieter) visit to her house!'
Last edited by NigG; 16th Jul 2016 at 20:02.
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Have a Care !
NigG,
Quote:
When I committed my unthinking act of terrorism, was serving on a (Radar) Calibration Flight.
Rather beaten-up stub nosed Mk.1 ! One summer day in 1938, two 16 year old cousins propped their bikes up on the hedge at the perimeter of Wyton (?), and in hopeless envy watched a couple of these doing circuits and bumps.
Tony went into the REME, I ended with "wings and rings".
.
It would have been Ramsey (which is to Douglas what Southport is to Blackpool). We had a fortnight there every year in the summer hols before the war. Never saw it again but once, in small twin SAAB turbo-prop Newcatle-Dublin. Glass-clear day, he flew down E.coast, from window could see beach, harbour and Mooragh Park lake (complete with tiny island in middle) where I (12 ?) went solo after 10 mins instruction in little old tub with just enough sail to give steerage way.
Beating-up girl friend's house strictly forbidden - but often done
But remember the "up" part. You should reach your low point before you reach the house, then climb up over the roof. Lovelorn swain goes over still going down, object of affections waving madly in garden, takes "eye off the ball"......CRRUMP ! 
Happened many a time.
Eheu, fugaces.....
Danny.
Quote:
...(Arthur flying a Blenheim Mk1, off the Isle of Man, for radar calibration)...
Rather beaten-up stub nosed Mk.1 ! One summer day in 1938, two 16 year old cousins propped their bikes up on the hedge at the perimeter of Wyton (?), and in hopeless envy watched a couple of these doing circuits and bumps.
Tony went into the REME, I ended with "wings and rings".
...but moved his wife and two daughters to the Isle of Man..
It would have been Ramsey (which is to Douglas what Southport is to Blackpool). We had a fortnight there every year in the summer hols before the war. Never saw it again but once, in small twin SAAB turbo-prop Newcatle-Dublin. Glass-clear day, he flew down E.coast, from window could see beach, harbour and Mooragh Park lake (complete with tiny island in middle) where I (12 ?) went solo after 10 mins instruction in little old tub with just enough sail to give steerage way.
Beating-up girl friend's house strictly forbidden - but often done
But remember the "up" part. You should reach your low point before you reach the house, then climb up over the roof. Lovelorn swain goes over still going down, object of affections waving madly in garden, takes "eye off the ball"......CRRUMP ! Happened many a time.Eheu, fugaces.....
Danny.
.....where I (12 ?) went solo after 10 mins instruction in little old tub with just enough sail to give steerage way.
Your Day Skipper's certificate is in the post......
Jack
Your Day Skipper's certificate is in the post......
Jack
to her daughter on the day !Guest
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NigG (your #241),
How could I have overlooked this bait for so long, and not risen to it ? (only excuse, there was a lot on at the time, what with Everest and Darjeeling and padres and buried booze and all that).
Now don't get me wrong. I do not denigrate women per se. "many of my best friends have been women" (after all, I married one !) and have a mother and a daughter, too. Nor do I question their suitability for many rôles in the RAF. In my own speciality (Air Traffic Controller), I saw the first wave of their reintroduction in the early sixties, instructed several of them (and mentored one ot two) during my three years on the School at Shawbury. Subsequently, on my last tour at Leeming, I watched three or four of the Shawbury alumnae blossom into alert and competent young Local, Approach and Radar Controllers, fully equal to the young gentlemen who had taken short-service Commissions in the Branch at the same time as they.
Only trouble was - we didn't get the length of service in return for the time and expense of their training (nor should we have expected to). I cannot think of one of ours who served out her full Commission - they were all married off before then. On the contrary, one of the young men at Leeming made a full career and finished as a Wing Commander, as did another who had been through Shawbury in my time. Others transferred to General List and served to pension age. Some left the RAF to make their way in Civil ATC.
Our ATC WRAF were simply uneconomic. As for the pilots we now train, words fail me ! The cost of training an RAF Pilot must now be astronomic; if she then calls it a day and resigns on marriage, the taxpayer carries the loss.
As for a paean to misogyny, I can only recommend: "The Earl oF Chesterfield's Letters to His Son" (your local librarian will order it for you after she has recovered from the shock). In the days when "Male Chauvinist Pig" was all the rage, I found a very effective riposte to be to ask the scoffer what a "Chauvinist" actually was (Most had no idea).
Stand by for incoming !
Danny.
...All women who happen to come across this post, please don't get confused. I am the one who thinks women have been under-rated for centuries. Danny is the one who doesn't! (Danny is also a lot more courageous than I am... a quality that's fully counter-balanced by his tendency to chauvinism!)...
Now don't get me wrong. I do not denigrate women per se. "many of my best friends have been women" (after all, I married one !) and have a mother and a daughter, too. Nor do I question their suitability for many rôles in the RAF. In my own speciality (Air Traffic Controller), I saw the first wave of their reintroduction in the early sixties, instructed several of them (and mentored one ot two) during my three years on the School at Shawbury. Subsequently, on my last tour at Leeming, I watched three or four of the Shawbury alumnae blossom into alert and competent young Local, Approach and Radar Controllers, fully equal to the young gentlemen who had taken short-service Commissions in the Branch at the same time as they.
Only trouble was - we didn't get the length of service in return for the time and expense of their training (nor should we have expected to). I cannot think of one of ours who served out her full Commission - they were all married off before then. On the contrary, one of the young men at Leeming made a full career and finished as a Wing Commander, as did another who had been through Shawbury in my time. Others transferred to General List and served to pension age. Some left the RAF to make their way in Civil ATC.
Our ATC WRAF were simply uneconomic. As for the pilots we now train, words fail me ! The cost of training an RAF Pilot must now be astronomic; if she then calls it a day and resigns on marriage, the taxpayer carries the loss.
As for a paean to misogyny, I can only recommend: "The Earl oF Chesterfield's Letters to His Son" (your local librarian will order it for you after she has recovered from the shock). In the days when "Male Chauvinist Pig" was all the rage, I found a very effective riposte to be to ask the scoffer what a "Chauvinist" actually was (Most had no idea).
Stand by for incoming !
Danny.
#228 . . . ..
Stanwell
While I am no student of military history relating to the fall of Singapore, there is a school of thought that the Jap push down the Malaysian Peninsula to Singapore could have been checked and perhaps turned round had General Percival been other than he was . .. a commander lacking highly developed tactical skills . . . unable or unwilling to use the intelligence to hand to act decisively. He dispersed his defences when he would have been far more effective mounting a pincer tactic to cut off the Japs supply lines which by then were desperately strung out. (This is the view of old mate, a Vietnam vet, one who has read widely on Australian military history pertaining to the war in the Pacific. )
CN Trueman - 'The Fall of Singapore.' -
RE: fall of Rabaul
The RAAF squadron leader, John Lerew ,who uttered that immortal Latin tag survived the war to later become Australia's chief delegate to ICAO in Montreal.
from a 1945 Sydney Morning Herald article -
John Lerew, whose name has
become a legend for laconic
humour, A literally classical ex-
ample of this was the signal he
sent to R.A.A.F headquarters on
January 21 1942— the eve of Rabaul's fall
— "Morituri te salutamus " (We who
are about to die salute you)
Actually they did not die. The
Japanese landed in force at Rabaul
on the night of January 22-23 and
the R.A.A.F. personnel there were
evacuated by Empire flying-boats
after a long trek down the coast to
a secret rendezvous.
Stanwell
I won't mention our Air Force losses in the Singapore rout (as well as nearly all of our Army's 8th Division) but the pathetic and futile sacrifice of our good fighting men generally, at that time, made a lot of people angry.
It was bloody obvious that we weren't going to stop the Japs, nor even slow them down.
It was bloody obvious that we weren't going to stop the Japs, nor even slow them down.
While I am no student of military history relating to the fall of Singapore, there is a school of thought that the Jap push down the Malaysian Peninsula to Singapore could have been checked and perhaps turned round had General Percival been other than he was . .. a commander lacking highly developed tactical skills . . . unable or unwilling to use the intelligence to hand to act decisively. He dispersed his defences when he would have been far more effective mounting a pincer tactic to cut off the Japs supply lines which by then were desperately strung out. (This is the view of old mate, a Vietnam vet, one who has read widely on Australian military history pertaining to the war in the Pacific. )
CN Trueman - 'The Fall of Singapore.' -
Only the army could stop the Japanese advance on Singapore. The army in the area was led by Lieutenant General Arthur Percival. He had 90,000 men there – British, Indian and Australian troops. The Japanese advanced with 65,000 men lead by General Tomoyuki Yama****a. Many of the Japanese troops had fought in the Manchurian/Chinese campaign and were battle-hardened. Many of Percival’s 90,000 men had never seen combat.
RE: fall of Rabaul
After 'scramble' and as they were climbing out, a radio message was received by the 'tower' ... "We, who are about to die, salute you."
That was the last that was heard of them.
That was the last that was heard of them.
from a 1945 Sydney Morning Herald article -
John Lerew, whose name has
become a legend for laconic
humour, A literally classical ex-
ample of this was the signal he
sent to R.A.A.F headquarters on
January 21 1942— the eve of Rabaul's fall
— "Morituri te salutamus " (We who
are about to die salute you)
Actually they did not die. The
Japanese landed in force at Rabaul
on the night of January 22-23 and
the R.A.A.F. personnel there were
evacuated by Empire flying-boats
after a long trek down the coast to
a secret rendezvous.
Last edited by Fantome; 18th Jul 2016 at 18:25.
Danny42C
It happened to a friend of dad's permanent RAAF in Canberra in the late fifties.
AIRCDE Lloyd Davies, who was having a Christmas drink at our place.
He recounted how at the end of his basic training at Point Cook in 1938 he took a Wapiti on a solo nav-ex to a property on the outskirts of Deniliquin . ( locally known as "Deni", a town in the Riverina region of New South Wales close to the border with Victoria.) . It was the home of Lloyd's mate on the same course at Point Cook. There on that sunny Sunday afternoon , driven by lustful or romantic thoughts of the daughter of the family, Lloyd shoved the nose down into a steep dive at the object of his affections whom he thought he could see waving frantically next to the tank stand (always good to stand near a tree , a tank stand or other obstacle to a clear path of display.) At what Lloyd in his ignorance thought was the right height to pull out, he hauled back on the stick, only to have the poor old lumbering Wapiti carry her momentum flat into the garden. (****-oh-dear. . . . . it is not recorded what he said to Felicity (mate's sister) upon emerging from the wreckage .. . but what a shot that would make to supply the apt caption.) What story Lloyd told his superiors is also left to the imagination. . . . but whatever it was he lived to fly and fight another day. (He gave me back then in Canberra days a snapshot of a CAC Boomerang he had once flown. On the back of the photo he had written "Boomerang - Ground-looping little bastard."
Beating-up girl friend's house strictly forbidden - but often done But remember the "up" part. You should reach your low point before you reach the house, then climb up over the roof. Lovelorn swain goes over still going down, object of affections waving madly in garden, takes "eye off the ball"......CRRUMP ! Happened many a time.
AIRCDE Lloyd Davies, who was having a Christmas drink at our place.
He recounted how at the end of his basic training at Point Cook in 1938 he took a Wapiti on a solo nav-ex to a property on the outskirts of Deniliquin . ( locally known as "Deni", a town in the Riverina region of New South Wales close to the border with Victoria.) . It was the home of Lloyd's mate on the same course at Point Cook. There on that sunny Sunday afternoon , driven by lustful or romantic thoughts of the daughter of the family, Lloyd shoved the nose down into a steep dive at the object of his affections whom he thought he could see waving frantically next to the tank stand (always good to stand near a tree , a tank stand or other obstacle to a clear path of display.) At what Lloyd in his ignorance thought was the right height to pull out, he hauled back on the stick, only to have the poor old lumbering Wapiti carry her momentum flat into the garden. (****-oh-dear. . . . . it is not recorded what he said to Felicity (mate's sister) upon emerging from the wreckage .. . but what a shot that would make to supply the apt caption.) What story Lloyd told his superiors is also left to the imagination. . . . but whatever it was he lived to fly and fight another day. (He gave me back then in Canberra days a snapshot of a CAC Boomerang he had once flown. On the back of the photo he had written "Boomerang - Ground-looping little bastard."
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Danny
I have to say... your are a 'wonder'! Plainly, you are 94, otherwise you wouldn't be young enough to have served in WW2. Yet, unlike my father (of similar vintage), you really are on the ball. Arthur would have been flummoxed by the term 'misogyny'... and I, even, at 62, struggle to spell the damn thing! However, am I not right in saying that women are no longer obliged to resign from the Services on becoming pregnant? In other words, giving a woman an expensive training is no longer a waste of tax payers' money if she procreates. Similarly, I can imagine that in the past, women would usually become housewives after marrying (if their husband had enough money to support them both). But now-a-days running a home tends to be a shared activity. So neither marriage nor having a child should now interfere with a woman's Service career.
However, my Politically Correct credentials fully on display, I will return to the good old days of the all-male RAF! What prompts me is my having scanned a few more photos from Arthur's collection. The date is 1937-9, when he learned to fly in the RAFVR at the 'London Air Park', Hanworth, North London. First, a view of the location. Only Hanworth House (then a hotel) still stands (though it's now sealed-up). The hangar, machine gun range (top right) and concrete apron, installed in 1938, are long gone. The ground where they stood now gets paced by people walking their dogs, on what is now a public amenity area:
The following picture shows Arthur seated, ready to demonstrate his skills for his final Wings test:
Lastly, Arthur about to take-off to practice formation flying:
The latter was with Flt Lt Rowley, the ex-chief pilot with Alan Cobham's Flying Circus, mentioned earlier in the Thread. Some of Arthur's early lessons were with this instructor. On one occasion, he got told to 'Hurry up!' as he walked out to the aircraft, a Blackburn B2. Arthur quickly clambered in, not giving himself time to do up his parachute harness or strap himself in. Rowley started the engine and immediately took-off and then headed west, evidently in some sort of hurry. After a while he started a steep turn and shouted 'There they are!' Arthur replied through the Gosport intercom: 'Yes Sir... who?' They were now flying low over Windsor Great Park and back came the answer: 'The King and Queen, of course!' Sure enough, below was a Landau. In it were King George V and Queen Mary, the open carriage being towed by four white horses. They were on their way from Windsor Castle to Ascot to open the racing season. Going round again, Rowley suddenly closed the throttle and put the aircraft into a steep glide alongside the procession. Then, a moment later, opened up again and pulled the aircraft sharply to the right, behind a row of trees. Afterwards, Arthur had a bit of a story to relate. The aircraft had certainly been identifiable from the lettering on its side... what would be their fate? A couple of months in the Tower? Happily, nothing came of it, so Arthur had no reason to regret this early lesson in just having a bit of fun!
I have to say... your are a 'wonder'! Plainly, you are 94, otherwise you wouldn't be young enough to have served in WW2. Yet, unlike my father (of similar vintage), you really are on the ball. Arthur would have been flummoxed by the term 'misogyny'... and I, even, at 62, struggle to spell the damn thing! However, am I not right in saying that women are no longer obliged to resign from the Services on becoming pregnant? In other words, giving a woman an expensive training is no longer a waste of tax payers' money if she procreates. Similarly, I can imagine that in the past, women would usually become housewives after marrying (if their husband had enough money to support them both). But now-a-days running a home tends to be a shared activity. So neither marriage nor having a child should now interfere with a woman's Service career.
However, my Politically Correct credentials fully on display, I will return to the good old days of the all-male RAF! What prompts me is my having scanned a few more photos from Arthur's collection. The date is 1937-9, when he learned to fly in the RAFVR at the 'London Air Park', Hanworth, North London. First, a view of the location. Only Hanworth House (then a hotel) still stands (though it's now sealed-up). The hangar, machine gun range (top right) and concrete apron, installed in 1938, are long gone. The ground where they stood now gets paced by people walking their dogs, on what is now a public amenity area:
The following picture shows Arthur seated, ready to demonstrate his skills for his final Wings test:
Lastly, Arthur about to take-off to practice formation flying:
The latter was with Flt Lt Rowley, the ex-chief pilot with Alan Cobham's Flying Circus, mentioned earlier in the Thread. Some of Arthur's early lessons were with this instructor. On one occasion, he got told to 'Hurry up!' as he walked out to the aircraft, a Blackburn B2. Arthur quickly clambered in, not giving himself time to do up his parachute harness or strap himself in. Rowley started the engine and immediately took-off and then headed west, evidently in some sort of hurry. After a while he started a steep turn and shouted 'There they are!' Arthur replied through the Gosport intercom: 'Yes Sir... who?' They were now flying low over Windsor Great Park and back came the answer: 'The King and Queen, of course!' Sure enough, below was a Landau. In it were King George V and Queen Mary, the open carriage being towed by four white horses. They were on their way from Windsor Castle to Ascot to open the racing season. Going round again, Rowley suddenly closed the throttle and put the aircraft into a steep glide alongside the procession. Then, a moment later, opened up again and pulled the aircraft sharply to the right, behind a row of trees. Afterwards, Arthur had a bit of a story to relate. The aircraft had certainly been identifiable from the lettering on its side... what would be their fate? A couple of months in the Tower? Happily, nothing came of it, so Arthur had no reason to regret this early lesson in just having a bit of fun!
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Thanks for your post#257, Fantome.
Re the Malayan Peninsula Defence, I'd heard a few things said about General Percival and his conduct of that defence - not too many of them complimentary.
Of course, many theories had been advanced as to how that defence could have been better conducted.
Having said that, though, I wonder just how many of those critics were actually there. I, too, hold a Degree in Hindsight.
As had been noted earlier, the big problem was more deeply-rooted than that.
Re the 'attempted defence' of Rabaul, you'll note that I was referring to the aircrew specifically.
CoodaShooda kindly came in with the historically correct sequence of events in his post #229.
Sqn Ldr Lerew had lost twelve of his aircrew on the previous day and had just two operational Wirraway "fighter" aircraft left - which would not have lasted five minutes against the Japanese invading forces.
The 1945 Herald article was correct insofar as the Squadron managed to evacuate at the last minute.
That would not have been the case had John Lerew followed orders.
Re the Malayan Peninsula Defence, I'd heard a few things said about General Percival and his conduct of that defence - not too many of them complimentary.
Of course, many theories had been advanced as to how that defence could have been better conducted.
Having said that, though, I wonder just how many of those critics were actually there. I, too, hold a Degree in Hindsight.
As had been noted earlier, the big problem was more deeply-rooted than that.
Re the 'attempted defence' of Rabaul, you'll note that I was referring to the aircrew specifically.
CoodaShooda kindly came in with the historically correct sequence of events in his post #229.
Sqn Ldr Lerew had lost twelve of his aircrew on the previous day and had just two operational Wirraway "fighter" aircraft left - which would not have lasted five minutes against the Japanese invading forces.
The 1945 Herald article was correct insofar as the Squadron managed to evacuate at the last minute.
That would not have been the case had John Lerew followed orders.