That's the problem with 'Senior Officer's Familiarisation Courses'. On two occasions I have had to tell VSOs very firmly that I was the captain.

That's probably why I never made it past Flight Lieutenant but who wants to drive a desk.





Also I wouldn't have had all those good times in China.

Not sure which is worst ... VSOs driving aircraft or SATCOs controlling ;)

Heathrow Vulcan accident
 

Thank you Danny for that masterly analysis of what was quite likely a major contributory cause of the disaster, although I have always felt that the CinC's presence in the right hand seat was another. Others beside myself have already recorded here the tendency of sundry VSOs to usurp a captain's authority, and although I don't recall any evidence of such in the accident report I feel fairly certain this was a factor; after all, the VSO in question was aware there was a champagne reception awaiting their arrival, and he was known to be a rather authoritarian character.

Yes Geriaviator & others, there will be a few Beverley bits 'n pieces to follow shortly!


harrym

BITTEN FOR LIFE BY THE AVIATION BUG
 

Final memories of a five-year-old in RAF Poona, 1946

I'm beside myself with excitement, for Daddy says he will take me to the airfield tomorrow if I'm a good boy, we'll go early before the heat builds up. I duly waken early and race into my parents' bedroom where they are still asleep, and Daddy sounds cross when he tells me to go back to bed, it's only four o'clock. I go in later and Daddy is really cross, he says it's only five o'clock.

At last we finish breakfast and Daddy puts me on his crossbar for the short cycle ride to the airfield. To my delight a Vengeance stands on the dusty apron, an inviting set of steps leading up to the cockpit. How thoughtful, I think, Daddy must have told them I was coming. An airman in khaki overall seems amused when Daddy seats me on a concrete block with a steel ring on top, and a rope from the ring is tied around my waist. He tells the airman that I can disappear in a flash, he tells me the concrete is an aeroplane picket weight, and I'm delighted to be picketed down like an aeroplane.

To my amazement the airman turns out to be the pilot, for he seems quite ordinary and not the superhuman I expected. He gives me a wave as he climbs into the front and his passenger climbs into a big space at the back. I remark on the size of this space and point out that there is ample room for Daddy and I both, but Daddy replies DEFINITELY NOT. After a few minutes there is a loud whining sound and the propeller starts to turn. And turn. And turn.

Clearly the Vengeance has a problem. With anticipation I wait for the pilot to get down, give it a kick and call it “yoo ********* ****” as Sgt James does when his motorcycle won't start, but suddenly there's a hollow cough, then a series of clanking, banging and chuffing noises as puffs of smoke belch from a big pipe out the side, then a sheet of flame with black smoke and a vast cloud of blue smoke, all whipped away with the dust as the propeller turns faster and faster and the spluttering engine settles down to a steady rumble I can feel in my bones.

I watch spellbound as the huge aeroplane zig-zags towards the runway with the pilot hanging out either side to see where he is going as his superhuman X-ray powers may not be working too well today. He pauses for what seems an age and I begin to hope that he's decided to come back for me after all. But at last the Vengeance starts to roll forward, the engine thunder reaches us, the tail comes up, faster and faster he goes until the tubby shape heaves itself slowly into the shimmering copper of the Indian sky. This is the magic moment I decide that I shall learn to fly, and own my own aircraft one day.

Seventy years later: After Poona we went to Karachi where my goal of acquiring a Vengeance was upgraded to a Lancaster … It took another 32 years before I learned that you can't have everything and settled for a Tiger Moth. But to this day the glorious sound of big pistons sends shivers down my spine.

Just a couple of funnies before leaving Aldergrove. One day I had to take the GC to Bovingdon for a conference and then go on a navex's before returning to Aldergrove. He sat in the right seat and off we went. We had just coasted out when there was a bad smell of petrol. The engineer checked the overload tank in the bomb bay and there was a bad leak. The GC said "what are you going to do" so I told him that I was returning to base. He said "you can't land, you are overweight" so I told him that I would put her down gently. All was well, and off we went in another aircraft. Again, on coasting out he asked for his brief case.No brief case!! So messages to and from Aldergrove to get his case on civil from Nutts Corner, then Belfast Airport. We landed at Bovingdon to let him off. No staff car, only a three toner! Then he asked for his bowler hat - underneath the parachutes on the rest bunk. Not his day.
The next one was when the Duke of Edinburgh was in Gibraltar and a 120 aircraft was sent from Aldergrove to fly him on an exercise with the Navy. This upset the resident Gib Squadron of course. The exercise went well and he was pleased.
The next trip the aircraft did, the wheels would not lower. The French airfield at Port Lyautey was "foamed" and the aircraft landed without harming the crew. A party went from Gibraltar, jacked it up, replaced the propellers and brought it back to Gib.
I was told to get a skeleton crew and was taken by Shack to Gibraltar to bring it back to Aldergrove. When I saw the poor old Shack the following morning I was told that it was cleared for one flight home, but the wheels were locked down, the bomb doors wired shut, no hydraulics, no flaps and " don't attempt to ditch " . I am not sure what happened after it was brought back. It was lucky that the Dukes trip was without incident. There!

Sleuthing
 

Forgive the barging in once more, but just some material for consideration if anyone gets bored and it's raining outside.


What can you work out concerning this photograph? Something I ran across. Nothing to do with anything, just a simple puzzle. Ignore as necessary. :ok:


Good luck gentlemen! (Answers supplied in due course. How about three days, if no-one gets any the wiser?)

Someone isn't terribly good at depicting Spitfires?

Spitfire with KL code was 54 Sqn, Hurricane YB was 17, so perhaps that's the connection? Some Jaguar mates event?

Ah ... "Dalton was promoted to group captain on 1 July 1994,[11] and in 1997 took command of RAF Coltishall and the RAF's Jaguar force." So perhaps a retirement gift?

Dalton and type/markings, yes, but otherwise no. One step forwards!


Quote: 'The painting is dedicated to all those who fought and died in that great battle, and is a tribute to the tenacity and courage of all those who came and served from all over the world at a time of England’s greatest need.

The Spitfire is a Mk1a, KL-T, R6079 of 54 Squadron and represents the aircraft flown by Colin Falkland Gray, a New Zealander.

The Hurricane is a Mk1 YB-J, N2359 of 17 Squadron and represents the aircraft flown by Harold Arthur Cooper "Birdy Bird” Wilson.'

Geri (#10765),

So you were firmly secured for your first encounter with the Vultee Vengeance ? (just as well, I'd think !) I've never read a better description of the histrionic display that a Double Cyclone could put on, cranking-up, if it were in the mood ! I must confess that often we very naughtily "prolonged the agony" by keeping the "Energise" on after the "Engage" in the hope that just one more half-crank would do the trick (instead of going back to Square 1, and letting the impeller wind up the starter flywheel properly again).

If you were in a line-up of six for a sortie, and everyone else had got their donks running, you could almost feel the exasperation of your five mates and the Flight leader seething in fury at the delay - for of course no one could move till all were ready to go.

But even the sainted Merlin was not beyond reproach: in the "Song of the Barracuda", the True Blue relates how:

"... And when you press the tit,
It belches flame and s**t
Right in your flipping eye ..."

but then these sailors were always coarse fellows ....

"...until the tubby shape heaves itself slowly into the shimmering copper of the Indian sky..."

You have the soul of a true poet, Sir ! (and "slowly" was dead right). As I've put it:

"And tho' you'd sooner flop than fly - I found it hard to say 'Good-bye' ".

Danny.

FED (#10762),

"That's probably why I never made it past Flight Lieutenant - but who wants to drive a desk ?"

Join the Club ! (inc Retd List, I have 67 yrs seniority in that "Best of All Ranks"), but am open to challenge !

Danny.

Flt Lt was OK, but higher ranks paid more. :)

That said, around the time I recognised I was probably going no further, it appeared my pension as a gp capt would only be an extra £1/day. It didn't seem worth the extra effort and associated brown-nosing and back-stabbing :)

MPN11,

Advantage of the Forever JO was that it kept you "in with the youngsters" (especially the smaller and prettier ones), so you didn't feel your age too much !

You mean ... they felt they were safe with you? :hmm:

A good mate and I both had a marital interregnum as sqn ldrs in our early 30s ... It was exhausting :)

MPN11,

..."You mean ... they felt they were safe with you? http://cdn.pprune.org/images/smilies/yeees.gif"...

Something like that (offering a shoulder to cry on) was always a good start. But beware - drying a woman's tears is one of the most dangerous things known to man !

On the subject of the Spitfire pics, no luck. Says "Error 1" or something like it. But thanks for the advice. Could somebody else print them on a Post, so I could see ? (or is Copyright a bar ?)

Danny.

Danny, hope this helps.:-

http://www.pprune.org/attachments/mi...puzzlecopy.jpg

Danny 42C at #10771

I can not compete with 67 years, but can offer 45 years 1 month and 17 days continuous Regular and Reserve (working full time) service. Total full time commisioned service was 50 years 6 months and 17 days. I then left to get a proper job.:cool:

Chugalug2 @ post# 10776, many thanks for the magnification.


The artist mentioned that he felt the fighter pilots coming to assist his brush as he painted.

Geriaviator, how the years roll back for us all as we read your memories of a five year old, for we have all once worn that mantle. We have all inhabited that world of fun until all is brought to a sudden stop by older brothers or sisters or, worst of all, intervening grown ups. For most of us though it has long since sunk into the furthest reaches of recall, but you seem to have that same knack as Richmal Compton of inhabiting that world. Hers was via the ability to get there through observing her nephew, but you manage to do so via your memories of your own five year old self. A feat that so far out Danny's Danny (though I rather suspect that he could make that same temporal leap himself if he chose to!).

Hear hear! It had the same strange effect on me.

Chugalug (#10775),

My cri de coeur (#10665) was intended for the "Spitfire Photos - John Dibbs" Thread. But I had a "Senior Moment" (not my first, and will not be the last !) and put it on here (Mea Culpa).

But thank you for the pic of the two Very Senior Officers in full fig - don't they look grand ! But "c'est magnifique - mais ce n'ést pas un Spitfire".

Will now repeat my plea in the proper place, and meanwhile stand in corner with Dunce's cap.

Your (#10779),

Oddly enough, my memories of that age (5) are limited to this: at my primary school my desk was next to that of one Eileen O'Hara. The grown-ups got the idea that we were sweethearts (God knows where they got that from), and went "Aaah" ....

In fact we detested each other. She was a rotten little snitch who went sobbing to Teacher every time I pulled her pigtail, and I got walloped ! And she accused me of pinching her Plasticene (when I'd only borrowed a bit, and would've let her have it back if asked nicely.

Women !

''''''''''''''''''''''
Tengah Type (#10777),

Surely you can add in your time on the Retired List, for after 50 years they must have given you a Pension ? With that stuck on, you may well have pipped me at the post !

Any other takers ?

Cheers, both. Danny.