COMBAT AND COMPETITION.pdf - Lakes Gliding Club

COMBAT AND COMPETITION
It was disappointing, but I did understand. Just to imagine the
aftermath of an incident with the Squadron's Tiger, flown solo by an
unqualified Army officer, was enough! Never mind. My day would
come.
In all I must have flown about 50 hours, more than half in the Tiger.
Reggie, who was elected aerobatics instructor, nearly put me off for
life by pulling an inordinate amount of 'G 1 on the recovery from his
first demonstration loop. He apologised profusely, explaining that he
had not aerobatted a Tiger for some time, and thereafter all was well.
A few weeks later he invited me to spend a weekend with him and
his family in Devon. They were kindness itself, and the meals were
unbelievable - even to the clotted cream - they must have been saving
up their rations for weeks. At lunch on the day we left I watched him
sitting there, his wife and children around him, and thought of the
time, not far distant, when he could be taking his Mustang into action.
And I thanked my lucky stars that I was still single.
Apart from one trip, wind finding with the Battle, the rest of my
flying at Twinwood was in the Master. On each occasion there was
some allegedly important communications purpose. Smudger was up
front but I did most of the flying, and practised pilot navigation, from
the rear seat. It was pleasant, bowling along at 180 mph behind the
smooth running Wasp engine, learning one's way around England.
Once we were trapped by weather at Snail well and I was able to see
a Typhoon at really close quarters. 56 Squadron, commanded by the
same Hugh Dundas of my Aysgarth days - 'Cocky' to his friends - was
first to be equipped with the new fighter. They were suffering from
a spate of engine failures, and had lost another pilot on the afternoon
of our arrival. He had tried to stretch his glide and stalled in just short
of the boundary. Although there was no fire, the remains were not a
pretty sight and, in the mess that evening, the Sabre's reliability was
the subject of much adverse comment. However I had seen enough of
the Typhoon. If possible, it was for me.
On another cross country we were already aboard for the return
flight and the aircraft was being refuelled by a WAAF. As the bowser
moved off she sat on the starboard wing root and replaced the filler
cap. Then she slid towards the trailing edge, right over the blade
shaped undercarriage indicator, and we had visions of a major disaster.
Fortunately all that happened was an expression of great surprise on
her face and a massive tear in the crutch of her battledress trousers.
She explored the damage, her standard issue 'passion killers' clearly
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