COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

CHAPTER SIX DYING REICH
and being mown down by cannon fire as it tried to escape. Tommy
smiled at me benignly:
"Now look what you've done! You shouldn't go around stirring up
Group Captains like that!"
Snowy returned after we had given him up for lost. Landing in the
thick of the fighting he had abandoned his chute and been taken
prisoner by American paratroops. Tall, fair haired, and wearing a
'Gott mit Uns' belt, they would not accept that he was an Australian.
Set to work unloading supplies he eventually managed to convince
an officer that he was indeed what he claimed to be. Life then became
more bearable.He drew a rifle and armband, dug a foxhole, and spent
the time trying to pick off snipers - a lethal occupation if ever there
was one! When the British armour broke through he hitched his way
back to base. In his own words, his voice slurred with exhaustion:
"They were very hostile days!"
A USAAF Mustang IV made an emergency landing at Mill and
required an engine change. Keen to fly anything new, I let it be known
that Mustangs already featured in my log book, and that I would be
happy to do the air test.
As I climbed aboard the memories came rolling back - the well
engineered cockpit - toe brakes and tailwheel lock, pistol grip control
column and electric propeller controls. For a moment I feared a re-run
of my negative feelings about the Mustang I. But absolutely not. The
Merlin 61 sounded reassuringly like a Spit IX as it crackled into life,
and the big teardrop hood made a world of difference. One seemed to
sit higher, more in command. I ran up the engine and waved the
chocks away.
The Merlin had more power. I applied too much of it, too quickly,
and maybe the trim was wrong. The big paddle bladed prop swung the
aircraft to port. Maximum starboard rudder was not enough and more
power would only make the situation worse. For what seemed an age
I hung on grimly, as the Mustang veered across the runway, until by
some miracle it lifted into the air, within seconds of mud and disaster.
After putting the replacement engine through its paces, I
concentrated on the approach and landing. It was in the groove, the
touchdown smooth as silk. But I felt a real Prune after that squalid
take off. Tempting to have another go. Much better to leave well
alone. I taxied in and returned the Mustang to its ground crew.
An impressive aircraft. In a totally different league to the Allison
engined version. But the old problem, whether or not to use the flaps
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