December 1956
Unfortunately all the jet aircraft had now been withdrawn to Leuchars from Turnhouse or allotted elsewhere, so as I was anxious to keep my jet rating I had to take the Chipmunk across to Leuchars to fly a Meteor, Vampire, Hunter or Javelin. But during the month I took to the air in a Sedburgh Mk 3 glider, and after three winch launches with an instructor I had a solo launch and flight, but my total time in the air amounted to only eighteen minutes! Winter weather had now moved in on us and on several occasions during the month there was snow and ice on the runway at Turnhouse. I had to do regular flights to assess the suitability of the runway for the civil aircraft to land, and runway snow clearance was an urgent and painstaking job for the Turnhouse ground staff. An air test was a necessity before aircraft could be accepted for landing, and for this I only had the Chipmunk, but in fact it turned out to be quite adequate for the purpose.
As a matter of interest no flight was ever diverted for runway surface unsuitability while I was there, but this did not, unfortunately, extend to cross-wind conditions: because of the orientation of the only long runway and the prevailing winds, the cross-wind component for landing was sometimes outside the limits for the civil aircraft, and they had to be diverted to Glasgow. It was not until the end of the month that I was able to get over to Leuchars and get a flight in a Meteor 7 for instrument flying and aerobatics, and later in the day a Hunter for a climb to 45,000 feet. On my approach to the airfield I steeled myself to do a practice manual controls landing, which meant switching off the power controls and using a great deal of strength and judgement to overcome the very heavy stiffness and lack of feel in the elevator and ailerons to effect a safe landing. I never experienced a failure of power controls in earnest, although I did have the failure of flaps to extend on one occasion when landing a Hunter at Turnhouse, but this was no great problem. But manual reversion was such a marked contrast to the usual sweet controls of the Hunter that it was a much more difficult problem.
Flying in February was confined to a handful of Chipmunk sorties, including one at night, but in March I had to take the Anson to Benbecula with several ‘Bloodhound’ technicians who wanted to carry out inspections of the missiles before a test firing against a glider target from Llanberis. On the l7th I got a few days’ leave, and Eve and I were flown in a Pionair (Dakota) to Dyce (Aberdeen). The next day, with a new captain of the Pionair, we flew on to Dice, Wick, Kirkwall and Sumbrough in the Shetlands, where we had booked in to a hotel for two days. After enjoying a welcome break of walking and exploring in the Shetlands we returned to Turnhouse in the Pionair.
Before the end of the month I did my last flight at Turnhouse in a Chipmunk. and notification of my next posting marked the end of my most enjoyable stay in Scotland. I flew down to Ouston in the Anson to say my farewells to the AOC and his staff, and returned to give the good news to my family that we would all be going to Cyprus for our next tour.
After several cocktail parties to say farewell to the many friends that we had been fortunate enough to make, including several notable people in Edinburgh, such as the Chief Constable and the commander of the American forces north of the border, we were finally dined out at Turnhouse and were able to get down to packing our bags. Before I was due to take up my new appointment as Wing Commander Administration at Akrotiri Cyprus, there were several spare weeks in hand when I could take some leave, so I applied and was given leave to travel out to Cyprus by sea. After a week or two showing our young family the exciting sites of York and London, we travelled down south by the night Scotsman from Edinburgh, and early the next morning boarded the troopship Dunera lying alongside the dock in Southampton. After a delightful and relaxing few days at sea we arrived off Limassol in a full gale, and as the Dunera was moored offshore, we had a very wet and exciting trip ashore in a small motor boat. It was very rough and spray was coming into the boat, and it seemed an unduly perilous situation for the Mediterranean that we had been looking forward to. However, once ashore we were soon enjoying the warmth and sunshine that we had promised ourselves.
My predecessor was reluctant to give up his married quarter on the base, so the family and I were temporarily housed in a hotel in Limassol. This meant travelling into my work every morning by car, but I soon got into my administration job, and it did not take me long to realize that I was going to be very busy. My good fortune continued, however, in that I found my new commanding officer was one of the nicest men of my experience. The true charm and kindness of both Andrew and Agnes Humphrey were a delight, and as a commander Andrew could not have been more helpful and understanding. I was made to understand at once where I stood, as Andrew told me bluntly that he expected me to get on with my administrative job without worrying him with non-essentials, and if I was not able to cope I would have to go.
From that moment on we worked together with perfect understanding. Andrew was a very wise and brilliant officer with a fine war record, having shot down a number of enemy aircraft after the Battle of Britain, and I was not surprised that he went on to become the Chief of Defence Staff in the years ahead. Sadly he was to die prematurely while in the post.
There were three Canberra squadrons and a communication squadron at Akrotiri, and despite the heavy load of my office work I managed to find time to keep in flying practice. I quickly got the commanding officer of the comm. squadron to check me out on the Pembroke and to do a solo flight to familiarize myself with the local area as far as Nicosia. I remembered that the family had spent a holiday in Cyprus in 1954 at the beginning of the guerilla war against the British Administration, and I was interested to find that talks were now taking place at the end of four years of this unrest. Happily, Grivas no longer lurked in the mountains, and Makarios had been released from his incarceration. He now joined with the Turkish representative, Denktash, in talks with the British in an attempt to agree a formula for granting independence to the colony. But Cyprus held a key strategic position in the Middle East, and although in 1960 sovereignty was finally granted under their joint presidency, it was essential for Britain to retain a military foothold on the island. As a result two Sovereign Base Areas were set up, one at Dhekelia for the Army to the east, and Akrotiri for the Royal Air Force four miles to the west of Limassol, with Episcopi, the headquarters of Middle East Air Command, close by. Sporadic fighting between Greek and Turk continued for several years, culminating with the Turkish invasion from the mainland in 1974, when the Turks seized and occupied a third of the island in the north, despite worldwide protests.
Attempts to stabilize the situation were made, but the Turkish community in 1983 declared itself independent as the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, and all that the Western Allies could do was to put in United Nations troops to patrol the border to keep the two sides apart.
The future situation at Akrotiri was to be influenced a good deal by the events that followed. There was endless traffic of civilian and military people through the station involved in the political negotiations. In addition an urgent and substantial build-up of military equipment and stores, together with the associated building, had to be put in hand in the base areas, and their security was of first priority, for some of the natives were by no means friendly. In a short time Akrotiri became by far the largest overseas base, and I had my hands full as its senior administrator. I was prepared to work late hours and took files home to keep pace with the relentless pressure, but I was not prepared to forego my flying. I had on my staff a Flt Lt Andrews, a navigator who shared my enthusiasm to get airborne, and Andy had the time to keep his eyes and ears open for a chance to do some useful flying. In June we took five passengers into Nicosia in the Pembroke, and after landing back at Akrotiri I managed to get my hands on a Meteor 7 from one of the Canberra squadrons. As it was clear that I was going to be busy during the day I arranged for a night check on the Pembroke so that I could do the Nicosia run when needed at night. Happily, Andy was glad to come along. On one day in July Andy and I were scrambled in the Pembroke to carry out a search for a shark reported off one of the bathing beaches that surrounded the peninsula on which the base stood. On this occasion it was ‘everybody out’, but normally the families could spend many happy hours swimmimg and snorkelling from the several surrounding beaches. I, unfortunately, could not normally get away from my office except to join the family for a brief swim before the sun went down.
It never ceased to amaze me how various types of flying machine seemed to appear from the depths of the maintenance hangars and became available to fly. On one occasion, quite unexpectedly, the maintenance crews produced my old friend a Chipmunk, and I was asked to fly over to Episcopi to assess the suitability of the mini landing strip that was part of the sports field at the headquarters. I found it too short for regular use, but subject to wind direction and strength it could certainly be used in an emergency. That evening I flew the Air Marshal and his SASO into Nicosia in the Pembroke, and returned at night and took the opportunity of making myself thoroughly familiar with the runway approach and landing lights at both Nicosia and Akrotiri.
I was also asked by the Air Staff to fly over and assess the suitability of the small landing strip at Limassol for use in an emergency. There was always a possibility at this time that terrorists might set up road blocks to cut off communications between the base areas, and these little strips might prove of valuable use. My recce of the Limassol strip and the touch-and-go landings in the Chipmunk were fun in themselves, but the pleasure was greatly enhanced as I flew over by the sudden eruption of a cloud of pink wings, providing a wonderful sight of hundreds of flamingos as they took off from the nearby salt lakes that were their breeding ground. On 26 September Andy and I flew Sir William MacDonald to Nicosia and took him back to Akrotiri on the night of the 28th with the Permanent Under-Secretary Sir William Dean. It will be appreciated that there was a great deal of air movement into Nicosia associated with the current negotiations for Cyprus independence at this time, so I was given a day and night check by the senior flying instructor so that I could be officially appointed a VIP aircraft captain.
My regular flying provided a welcome relaxation from my intense administrative tasks, which seemed to grow each day. The one bright spot was my friendly relationship with Andrew Humphrey, based on mutual trust and confidence. We were both under severe pressure in our own fields, and yet Andrew always found time to pop into my office and have a friendly chat. He was a fairly heavy smoker and was always running out of cigarettes, so I made a point of keeping a packet or two in my desk drawer, which I knew Andrew appreciated. Our weekly tour of inspection together around the huge station took up a great deal of time, but it was the only period when we spent more than a few moments together. Notes were made of all the many things that needed to be done, and Andrew soon came to appreciate that he never had to ask twice for appropriate action to be taken.
In addition to the routine administration there were several royal visits to the station, including one by the Queen, which involved a lot of tidying up and the provision of special facilities for her comfort. The greatest efforts, however, were required for the visit by the Duke of Gloucester when he came to present a new Queen’s Colour to the Middle East Air Force. The whole station was to be paraded, including a Colour Escort Squadron and the MEAF Band. A special stand had to be built for the visiting guests to view the parade, and the Presentation, the March-Past of the Colours and the Royal Salute, which had to coincide exactly with the Fly-Past by the Canberra Squadrons. Happily all went well, except that, because of a mistake by the Palace, the Duke arrived in blue uniform when the station was all in summer rig and the day was very hot. The Commander-in-Chief, too, decided that he should also wear his blue uniform, as a gesture to help ease the unfortunate situation. Happily the parade went off very well, and the roar of the Canberra formation led by Guy Hogan coincided exactly with the Royal Salute as they flew over the glittering line of bayonets at the present arms. Hardly had the last bars of the National Anthem faded away, together with the diminishing roar of the Canberras, when the Duke and the C-in-C were whisked off to the mess to cool off with the help of an iced drink. A formal luncheon rounded off a very satisfying day for all concerned, albeit a trifle hot and uncomfortable for the principal participants.
As a change from my regular flights in the Pembroke to Nicosia and an aerobatic sortie in the Meteor, on 14 November I flew in a Shackleton piloted by Flt Lt Waddington on a maritime special operation off the coast of Israel. Although Israeli aircraft did not participate, several small, high-speed torpedo-type craft were busy along the coast. The following week I went into Nicosia in the Pembroke to collect Air Marshal Earl. On the return flight Tubby came up to the cockpit and settled down in the right-hand seat and took over the controls. It was a beautiful, clear morning, and we thoroughly enjoyed flying only a few feet above the summit of Troodos Mountain to have a good look at the radar unit perched on the top and glistening under several feet of snow. After a gradual descent and a landing on the runway at Akrotiri, we got out of the aircraft to find, in sharp contrast, a very hot noon day. The beautiful Mediterranean weather continued, and the family took every advantage of the superb swimming and snorkelling on the surrounding beaches while I was beavering away at the heavy administration burden and only occasionally joining them when work would allow. But there were occasions when I could get away briefly for some leave, and on 7 June we boarded a Comet at Nicosia that was to take us to Athens. I was rather surprised to see as we mounted the steps to board the aircraft that it had recently been resprayed, and I could see under the new paint the letters RAE Farnborough. This turned out to be the same aircraft that we had at the Test Pilots’ School at Farnborough for the test pilots to fling around to work out G forces in steep turns, etc. I didn’t let on to Eve before we took off.
We enjoyed a memorable two weeks during which we took passage in a small motor yacht and visited the ancient Greek cities of Epidaurus, Mycene, Corinth, and Delphi. We were entranced by the all-pervading feeling of mystery and ancient Greek legend, and descending into the catacombs of Delphi we were persuaded that the Oracle decreed that we must leave Greece and return to Cyprus, which we reluctantly did during the night of the new moon in the same BEA Comet.
Two days after my return I took off in a Beverley captained by Flt Lt Lang, with his crew and eighteen paratroops and two heavy platforms of military equipment. This was part of Operation Swiftsure, when I witnessed the stores and parachutists being dropped at Morphu.
A few days later I flew in a Canberra with Flg Off Blewitt to Thorney Island in the UK, staging through Luqa in Malta. The purpose of my return to the United Kingdom was to visit the Air Secretary’s Branch to discuss my next appointment. To my surprise I was summoned to an interview with the Air Secretary himself and told that the Promotion Board had agreed my promotion to Acting Group Captain for my next job, yet to be announced. I was convinced that this happy event was entirely due to Andrew’s recommendation on my last Confidential Report at Akrotiri, and it was with happy anticipation that I returned to Cyprus on 9 January, when I boarded an RAF Comet at Lyneham, flown by Flt Lt Hartman and also having Sir Dudley Ward on board. We landed back at Akrotiri early that evening.
February and March were very busy months, and I only managed to get airborne twice to Nicosia and to grab a quick flight in the Meteor. But in May I got away for another leave break, and on the 15th, Eve and I boarded ‘Bald Eagle’, a Boeing 707 flown by Capt Randle, to fly from Beirut to Istanbul. After a wonderful week exploring the fabulous mosques and ancient buildings of modern Constantinople, we took a ship through the Dardanelles to Izmir, which still showed the scars of the calamitous earthquake. We visited several of the famous ancient Greek temples and toured the town over the next few days, before returning to Istanbul in a Dakota of an internal Turkish airline. It was a reasonable flight, but we were amused to find that the in-flight refreshments that were advertised turned out to be boiled sweets, served with a flourish after take-off. We returned to our hotel in Istanbul only to find that, through a misunderstanding, the management had relet our room, and while full of apologies, they regretted that no other rooms were available. After remonstrating to the manager and arguing that for the sake of one night our romantic holiday would be spoiled by the incompetence of his staff, he relented and we were moved into the bridal suite, complete with a king-sized bed and ‘his and her’ dressing gowns hanging behind the door, not to mention the most superb view of the Golden Horn from our balcony. Back down to earth the next day, we boarded a BEA Comet and were flown to Ankara and then on to Nicosia, where I took over a waiting Pembroke and flew us back to Akrotiri that night.
A few days later, for the first time in my flying career, I landed from a flight without my aircraft. Command HQ had decreed that senior officers should experience a parachute descent, and so the RAF Regiment’s CO, Tony Sullivan, who was an enthusiastic parachutist, called for volunteers for the first drop. Andrew was always recognizing his responsibilities as station commander, and to set a good example immediately put his name forward. He, as always, assumed that I would be supporting him, so I added my name as a matter of course. So it was after a short period of instruction in the hangar that we and a handful of staff officers led by Tony took off in a Hastings that climbed to 1,200 feet over the sea off Lady’s Mile beach and disgorged us from the side door in a string. After the noise and slipstream that buffeted me as I left the aircraft, the gentle and peaceful descent, gently swinging beneath the canopy of my parachute, was a delight, but all too soon the waves seemed to rush up towards me, and wriggling out of my harness I was quickly plucked from the water by the rescue boat. After a quick shower and a change back into uniform, the parachute party gathered in the bar for a celebratory gin amid the plaudits of the rest of the flyers who had yet to jump. But were their congratulations tinged with jealousy and resentment that they were not the first? There was no time to dwell on the follow-up to our achievement, as during the following week the family and I had packed up. I had handed over my duties to two newly arrived wing commanders, and after several farewell parties and a dining-out in the mess we left in a Britannia of Transport Command with another one hundred passengers to land at London, Stanstead, on the afternoon of 6 October, at the completion of a very busy tour, but one of great interest and achievement, which earned me the award of an OBE.