Instructors - any favourite "bon mots" ?
When I was being trained (1958) there was a big shortage of Navs
"If you are going to be killed in an aeroplane you may as well be flying it."
I went to a high class optician who declared that there was nothing wrong with my eyes so I went back to the RAF. Another assessment, this time as a pilot.
Interestingly, this exact account is now the official version of events on the Aviation Safety Network
Interestingly, this exact account is now the official version of events on the Aviation Safety Network in respect of the demise of said Whirlwind. They lifted Fareastdriver's post word for word.
ASN Aircraft accident 07-AUG-1967 Westland Whirlwind HAR10 (S-55) XR478
ASN Aircraft accident 07-AUG-1967 Westland Whirlwind HAR10 (S-55) XR478
"Mildly" Eccentric Stardriver
That Wrecks and Relics page (post 141), has Wessex XT677 on it. My last flight on the OCU was on that airframe, brand-new from Westlands. 12 Apr '67. At least, so far, I've survived in better condition.
Pardon the slight thread drift, but with the tales of instructor daring do I'm forced to inquire. Scuttlebutt had it that you chaps did EOLs in the Whirlwind to the ground without using collective, by running it on in the flare on the rear wheels. Truth is what?
All these posts from people who used to fly those awful clattering devices merely go to prove that, not only are helicopters dangerous bloody things, but QHIs are too....
by running it on in the flare on the rear wheels. Truth is what?
I had an indicated engine fire at 200ft so being new I went through the full fire drill which included shutting down the engine. By pure luck I arrived at a field at about 45 knots only to find it straddled with power lines. This encouraged a GodAlmighty flare and I stopped, levelled the aircraft and I was on the ground with virtually zero speed.
I got a Green Endorsement; Bacchus got lots of thanks.
Flash forward seven or so years and I landed at Crossmaglen in Armagh, unloaded and reloaded and took off with BOTH fire lights on. I knew why but the VSO in the jump seat didn't and he was having kittens.
Gentleman Aviator
The thread is already drifting a bit, so I feel happy to add a bon mot from a student. Some decades ago, when I was that "dangerous bloody thing" a QHI (thanks BEags), I was doing an out-of-phase check or refresher on the mighty Wessex for the Staish, fine chap (now deceased) D*** S******.
The sortie was "circuits and emergencies" at the Secret Shropshire Helicopter Base; since the Staish had last flown the Queen Mother of the Skies, a check of IFF selection had been added at the end of the after take-off checks. The Staish kept missing this out; cue smart@ss crewman - sorry: diligent downstairs professional - declaring on each occasion:
"With the IFF at Standby, your checks are complete Sir!"
Grumbling noise from Staish, followed by:
"Crewman: the IFF IS at standby and will remain so for the rest of the sortie. I shall not mention it again and would be grateful if you did not either!!"
Nice one Sir!
The sortie was "circuits and emergencies" at the Secret Shropshire Helicopter Base; since the Staish had last flown the Queen Mother of the Skies, a check of IFF selection had been added at the end of the after take-off checks. The Staish kept missing this out; cue smart@ss crewman - sorry: diligent downstairs professional - declaring on each occasion:
"With the IFF at Standby, your checks are complete Sir!"
Grumbling noise from Staish, followed by:
"Crewman: the IFF IS at standby and will remain so for the rest of the sortie. I shall not mention it again and would be grateful if you did not either!!"
Nice one Sir!
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Nav on Chinook sqn to Boss, "Boss, I've decided to PVR."
"D, that is the best decision of your life."
Sadly perhaps the only one as he was killed in a light aircraft crash not long afterwards.
"D, that is the best decision of your life."
Sadly perhaps the only one as he was killed in a light aircraft crash not long afterwards.
Thread Starter
Obviously a typo as I'm pretty sure you would have noticed someone hiding back there.
In spite of that little slip ASN is regarded by many as the go-to resource for accident investigation information, I think it's a bit of a feather in the cap to have your account become unofficial record on the incident, but then that's just me. Nevertheless I was impressed.
In spite of that little slip ASN is regarded by many as the go-to resource for accident investigation information, I think it's a bit of a feather in the cap to have your account become unofficial record on the incident, but then that's just me. Nevertheless I was impressed.
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Herod (#109),
Hard luck - should've used more finesse ! This afternoon I've wasted an inordinate length of time trying to trace a relevant tale I told on "Pilot's Brevet" years ago (no problem; I am in "boarding kennels" ["Respite Care"] to let daughter Mary, who takes tender care of me, have a few days to herself with pals in the Lake District). Inmates here all brain dead, so my time is my own. Predictably, "Search this Thread" no use at all, Google cannot help, so here it is again, from memory:
During the war, the Grand Hotel in Calcutta would allow through its portals officers and Sgt aircrew (but no other sgts or other ranks); Rs10 a night full board (say 13/-). Only you were in a shared room for two (males only), who you got as a "roomie" was pot luck. On this occasion, I got a friendly young American with an interesting background.
He'd entered the USAAC as a flight cadet (same as me) but got chucked out from Primary with 40 hrs Stearman time, left to go back to civil life (which was his right), trotted round to the China National Aircraft Corporation (that distant forebear of Cathay Pacific), who operated DC-3s "over the Hump" Calcutta-Chunking with American crews - and got taken on as a second dickey !
Really he was little more than a human autopilot minder. His Captain would do the navigation, and all the take-offs and landings. He was there to keep an eye on the autopilot and look out for mountain tops, and for someone the Captain to talk to (and to make the coffee). For this onerous task they were paying him Rs700 a month, which was three times what I was getting as a Sgt Pilot (and getting shot at into the bargain). And I'd completed the very Course that he'd been washed out of ! But it was really "danger" money, for the mountains were about at the ceiling of a heavily loaded freight Dak, weather was dicey and they ploughed in with monotonous regularity.
Now for the beef in the sandwich: occasionally they flew VIPs as well as freight, so of course they then needed a hostie on board. I think they sourced them from Pan Am. In those days it was a top job for a girl, like Top Model today, and there was no lack of applicants: naturally they chose the stunners. For that reason, they never lasted long before they snagged their millionaire, and there was a rapid turnover (no comment, please).The possibilities were obvious: one hairy old Captain devised a Fiendish Plan for each new girl. Picture:
It is a sunny lunchtime; a "slip" crew is chatting idly over coffee on the terrace. the Captain tells a strange story of Old China. Seems that, on another of the Company's routes, they overnight stop somewhere in the firm's "resthouse". This is an old mansion, formerly the residence of the high powered mandarin in charge of the province. Naturally he had a string of concubines, but #1 was getting a bit long in the tooth, #2 was getting more and more attention. This was getting up #1's nose, she consulted the Apothecary, and #2 expired, seemingly of Natural Causes. But the Mandarin queried the verdict, did a bit of digging, and got to the truth. #1 then expired horribly in turn, and #3 took over: what happened to her is not known.
The Spirit of #1, however, did not rest, and on moonlight nights returned to the scene of her former triumphs, and checked the place out to see what was going on. She looked into every bedroom, a girl in bed with a man was no threat to her, but a girl alone was Clear and Present Danger. She appeared to any such, screaming and threatening with claw-like talons to tear her (potential) rival's eyes out. Of course, being only a spirit, she could not in fact do any harm, but the performance was so vivid that the victim (who, oddly, was the only one who could see or hear anything) was reduced to a piteous mass of abject terror, packed her bags and left.
But of course, these superstitious Chinese will believe anything, won't they ? Another coffee all round ? .................Nothing more was said about the story.
What the Captain knew, but kept to himself, was that his crew were due to be swapped onto this very route in a couple of weeks.. Again, nothing was said, and after dinner the hostie retired to her virginal couch at one end of the corridor, the chaps to the other. Now you know how these old wooden buildings creak and groan with the fall in temperature: the night birds call eerily; moonlight shadows move as the night breezes rustle the trees .... and the girl remembers the story. She tries to put it out of her mind. But auto-suggestion is very powerful, pretty soon she is visited by the Demon .... The Captain (whose room is, by chance, nearest to hers) lights a cigarette and waits ...... Eventually a terrified little waif scratches at his door, begging for sanctuary in his bed. .... Let Conscience be your Guide !
In the light of dawn, the now throughly ashamed hostie gives up her job and returns to the States. Her replacement comes out, on a sunny terrace with a coffee .......
Neat, eh ? True ? How do I know ? It's just what he told me.
Hard luck - should've used more finesse ! This afternoon I've wasted an inordinate length of time trying to trace a relevant tale I told on "Pilot's Brevet" years ago (no problem; I am in "boarding kennels" ["Respite Care"] to let daughter Mary, who takes tender care of me, have a few days to herself with pals in the Lake District). Inmates here all brain dead, so my time is my own. Predictably, "Search this Thread" no use at all, Google cannot help, so here it is again, from memory:
During the war, the Grand Hotel in Calcutta would allow through its portals officers and Sgt aircrew (but no other sgts or other ranks); Rs10 a night full board (say 13/-). Only you were in a shared room for two (males only), who you got as a "roomie" was pot luck. On this occasion, I got a friendly young American with an interesting background.
He'd entered the USAAC as a flight cadet (same as me) but got chucked out from Primary with 40 hrs Stearman time, left to go back to civil life (which was his right), trotted round to the China National Aircraft Corporation (that distant forebear of Cathay Pacific), who operated DC-3s "over the Hump" Calcutta-Chunking with American crews - and got taken on as a second dickey !
Really he was little more than a human autopilot minder. His Captain would do the navigation, and all the take-offs and landings. He was there to keep an eye on the autopilot and look out for mountain tops, and for someone the Captain to talk to (and to make the coffee). For this onerous task they were paying him Rs700 a month, which was three times what I was getting as a Sgt Pilot (and getting shot at into the bargain). And I'd completed the very Course that he'd been washed out of ! But it was really "danger" money, for the mountains were about at the ceiling of a heavily loaded freight Dak, weather was dicey and they ploughed in with monotonous regularity.
Now for the beef in the sandwich: occasionally they flew VIPs as well as freight, so of course they then needed a hostie on board. I think they sourced them from Pan Am. In those days it was a top job for a girl, like Top Model today, and there was no lack of applicants: naturally they chose the stunners. For that reason, they never lasted long before they snagged their millionaire, and there was a rapid turnover (no comment, please).The possibilities were obvious: one hairy old Captain devised a Fiendish Plan for each new girl. Picture:
It is a sunny lunchtime; a "slip" crew is chatting idly over coffee on the terrace. the Captain tells a strange story of Old China. Seems that, on another of the Company's routes, they overnight stop somewhere in the firm's "resthouse". This is an old mansion, formerly the residence of the high powered mandarin in charge of the province. Naturally he had a string of concubines, but #1 was getting a bit long in the tooth, #2 was getting more and more attention. This was getting up #1's nose, she consulted the Apothecary, and #2 expired, seemingly of Natural Causes. But the Mandarin queried the verdict, did a bit of digging, and got to the truth. #1 then expired horribly in turn, and #3 took over: what happened to her is not known.
The Spirit of #1, however, did not rest, and on moonlight nights returned to the scene of her former triumphs, and checked the place out to see what was going on. She looked into every bedroom, a girl in bed with a man was no threat to her, but a girl alone was Clear and Present Danger. She appeared to any such, screaming and threatening with claw-like talons to tear her (potential) rival's eyes out. Of course, being only a spirit, she could not in fact do any harm, but the performance was so vivid that the victim (who, oddly, was the only one who could see or hear anything) was reduced to a piteous mass of abject terror, packed her bags and left.
But of course, these superstitious Chinese will believe anything, won't they ? Another coffee all round ? .................Nothing more was said about the story.
What the Captain knew, but kept to himself, was that his crew were due to be swapped onto this very route in a couple of weeks.. Again, nothing was said, and after dinner the hostie retired to her virginal couch at one end of the corridor, the chaps to the other. Now you know how these old wooden buildings creak and groan with the fall in temperature: the night birds call eerily; moonlight shadows move as the night breezes rustle the trees .... and the girl remembers the story. She tries to put it out of her mind. But auto-suggestion is very powerful, pretty soon she is visited by the Demon .... The Captain (whose room is, by chance, nearest to hers) lights a cigarette and waits ...... Eventually a terrified little waif scratches at his door, begging for sanctuary in his bed. .... Let Conscience be your Guide !
In the light of dawn, the now throughly ashamed hostie gives up her job and returns to the States. Her replacement comes out, on a sunny terrace with a coffee .......
Neat, eh ? True ? How do I know ? It's just what he told me.
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HHornet (#156), Thanks !
Have told many such since I came aboard five years ago on "Pilot's Brevet" Thread. Started on Page 114, #2262 et seq. Have been told to "write a book" on occasion, but (a) old fingers far too weak and frail, and (b) think that the market for war books is saturated.
And my war is almost as far in the past for today's youngsters as was the Crimean War for me when "I were a lad". (you don't list your age).
Cheers, Danny.
Have told many such since I came aboard five years ago on "Pilot's Brevet" Thread. Started on Page 114, #2262 et seq. Have been told to "write a book" on occasion, but (a) old fingers far too weak and frail, and (b) think that the market for war books is saturated.
And my war is almost as far in the past for today's youngsters as was the Crimean War for me when "I were a lad". (you don't list your age).
Cheers, Danny.
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I was at a party about 10 years ago and got to talking to an elderly American gentleman. He was a retired USAF fighter pilot and somehow the topic got on to flying instructing. I asked him if he had done an instructor tour during his time in the Air Force.
His response was no, he had never been selected for an IP tour although he had asked for one as his last pre retirement posting. He figured that the powers that be, must have thought him unsuitable as he had flown operationally in WW 2, Korea, and Vietnam, and been shot down in all three wars !
His response was no, he had never been selected for an IP tour although he had asked for one as his last pre retirement posting. He figured that the powers that be, must have thought him unsuitable as he had flown operationally in WW 2, Korea, and Vietnam, and been shot down in all three wars !
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The Kirby Cadet Mk111 used in Air Cadet gliding was open cockpit and generally communication from bellowed from the instructor in the back seat to his hapless cadet in front, so those at the launch point could often hear these friendly words as it passed over on the final approach.
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ian16th (#158),
Another one: seems London no further from PyongYang than Los Angeles (I read).
If so, the Great Fat Un is as much our worry as Trump's. Uncannily reminiscent of the rise of Hitler in the late thirties - same policy of pushing the boundaries. Who'll "Bell the Cat" this time ?
Danny,
One of those 'frightening' statistics.
If so, the Great Fat Un is as much our worry as Trump's. Uncannily reminiscent of the rise of Hitler in the late thirties - same policy of pushing the boundaries. Who'll "Bell the Cat" this time ?
Danny,
seems London no further from PyongYang than Los Angeles (I read)
Only difference, an ICBM going west about has (most likely
) got to cross a fair size chunk of China and Russia. I don't reckon it will get as far as UK before being dealt with. Followed shortly by the problem in NK going away once and for all.
