January 1963
With the backing of the Ministry of Aviation, the Empire Test Pilots’ School and the American opposite number at Edwards Air Force Base paid regular liaison visits to each other’s establishments. This January it was the turn of the British to go to the States, and I managed to join the party as the Ministry Representative. On 3 January seven test pilots, led by the ETPS commandant, Ray Watts, and I set off in the Viscount from Farnbrough to Lossiemouth in Scotland, where we refuelled and took off again for Keflavick in Iceland. No sun appeared while we were there to brighten the dreary, sad countryside, and we were glad to be on our way again, although the local people did all they could to be hospitable during our stop-over. Our next landing was at Sondrestrom in Greenland, where the weather was even more depressing and the whole place seemed to be immersed in low cloud and ice and snow. After a quick refuelling stop the Viscount was on its way to Goose Bay in Newfoundland, a place familiar with visiting British military aircraft, as we had an agreement with the Canadian government to keep a detachment there, and Vulcans, Victors and fighters flew in constantly to carry out exercises and gain experience of operating in sub-zero temperatures. When we landed it was certainly sub-zero, and we were advised not to leave the aircraft until it was in the hangar and the doors closed. Everyone there moved around in cars with their heaters going full blast, and one had to keep well covered up even in the short journey from car to the heated mess buildings. Fur-lined jackets with hoods were issued to all, and we never ventured out without them.
The buildings and the hospitality were equally warm, and we were sorry that we could not stay for a day or two, but we had a tight schedule to keep across the States, so the next morning we were bundled into the Viscount to avoid the freezing wind that was whipping up the powdery snow off the banks alongside the runway. The aircraft had only just come out of the hangar when Eddy Rigg (Yes, Diana’s brother) got into the captain’s seat for the next leg of the flights and prepared to start up the engines. After his cockpit checks he pressed the starter button of number one engine, and to his astonishment all four engines began to turn. Clearly something was amiss, and so back into the hangar went the Viscount. It was discovered that the starting solenoids had frozen up, even in the short time that they had been exposed to the outside freezing air. After the application of a heater-blower all worked normally, and in a very short time we were able to take off and climb out of Goose and leave behind the distinguishing white plumes of smoke coming from every chimney, where the moisture turned into ice crystals the moment they hit the sub-zero air.
Eddie took us to the American Air Force Base at Westover in three and a half hours, where we refuelled, and then Hubbard took over for the flight to the US Naval Air Station at Patuxent River. Here we had a stop-over of four days. This was a very interesting visit where we had lectures and demonstrations of the way the US Navy conducted its flight-testing operations, and some of the British test pilots flew a selection of their latest naval fighters. During the visit I was accommodated with the family of the senior instructor, who were most kind and generous. As well as being wined and dined at their attractive ranch-like house, I was taken out for a ride on a very presentable hunter. I enjoyed every moment of it, and discovered the New England countryside was quite breathtaking: the trees shone golden in the evening light of the setting sun as we cantered back and then slowed to a walk to let the horses cool off before putting them in the stables with a bucket full of corn on the cob for each of them.
On 10 January we flew to Scott Air Force Base in Illinois, and then on again with Robbie Robinson in charge of the Viscount, landing at Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque. After refuelling we took off on the third flight that day, Eddie and Ray Watts sharing the flying, and landing at our final destination, the Edwards Air Force Base, in the late evening. After a long and tiring day we were all looking forward to a few drinks and an early night, but it soon became apparent that the welcoming party was all laid on for that night. What was even more tiresome was that the party was in the City of Los Angeles itself, and we had hardly alighted from the Viscount when we were hustled aboard a C54 Transport aircraft of the USAF, which took off at once, and we were soon circling the myriad of lights of the Los Angeles International Airport. Needless to say the airport was very busy and we were stacked overhead for what seemed like hours to us, the exhausted English guys. At last the C54 received landing clearance, and again our genial hosts hustled us out of the aircraft and into a series of ‘limos’ that shot off into the seething traffic of the city. At last we reached our destination and were ushered into a great hall containing many small tables and one larger top table at the far end. There must have been some one hundred men and women seated at the tables, but as the British team entered they all leapt to their feet clapping and cheering wildly. It soon became clear that we had arrived very late; the reception party had begun sometime before we were ushered in and the drinks had been flowing liberally. When I said that they all leapt to their feet this was an exaggeration, for many were already prone beneath the tables. Nevertheless the reception was overwhelming, and we were soon seated at the top table catching up with the drinks, our fatigue and sobriety forgotten. I was thrilled to find that Chuck Yeager was seated between Ray Watts and myself, so we enjoyed a feast of stories from this great American pilot who was the first to fly supersonically anywhere in the world. This was in the Bell X-1 research aircraft, which he flew at Mach 1.06 over Muroc Field – the future Edwards Airforce Base in California’s Mojave Desert. He told us a lot of scary stories about incidents in his flying achievement, most recently in the pioneering research aircraft with turbojet and rocket propulsion. These were exploring supersonic flight and flight into the stratosphere, leading to the final goal – entry into space. Even that evening as he spoke, Chuck was gesturing with hands heavily bandaged, a result of a horrendous experience when he had to take to his parachute when his F.104 fighter went out of control while on a climb beyond the atmosphere. The burns were suffered when the rocket of his ejector seat set fire to the shrouds of his parachute and he had to extinguish the flames with his bare hands as he floated down a hundred miles out in the desert. Luckily he told us that he was soon picked up by a rescue helicopter.
As the evening wore on speeches were made by both teams, almost unintelligible for the most part, but there was no concealing the friendliness and mutual admiration between them. Even in my inebriated state I was very conscious of the fact that seated around the top table that night was a bunch of the most experienced test pilots in the world, some of them to gain fame as the future astronauts. Neil Armstrong was among them, and he told us about his experiences in flying the X-15 up to 125,000 feet and at twice the speed of sound, which he did before his space flight. The British team certainly learned a lot that drunken evening, probably more than their hosts intended. The next morning several of the American test pilots who had been at the party were on the flight-line at Edwards at eight o’clock sharp to continue their aircraft high-speed and high-altitude research programme The next few days were spent in very interesting demonstrations of future projects, including a brief sight of the Space Program’s re-entry vehicle then in mock-up form (the Shuttle). We were all impressed with the Americans’ confident attitude to bringing this vehicle back from space, re-entering the earth’s atmosphere and generating incredible heat as they did so, and then approaching from great altitude and landing a powerless aircraft with a stalling speed around 200 knots. The skill and judgment required was prodigious, even though the whole operation would be monitored from the ground with a computer program.
The next two days were taken up with flying American fighters, when I was given the opportunity to fly the Northrop T.38, taking it up to altitude and doing a stall (very mild) and then a fast run to Mach 1.6 before returning to the huge runway for several touch-and-go landings. After lunch (strictly no alcohol) I flew the notorious F.104, the so-called widow maker, with Capt Switz as safety pilot. On this flight I was subjected to one of the most fascinating experiences of my flying career. After a long take-off run we climbed vertically, reaching 40,000 feet while still over the airfield. After some general handling and a level fast run to Mach 2 Switz said, ‘OK, I’ve got her’, and took over the controls. He again stood the 104 on its tail and engaged reheat on the special upgraded General Electric turbojet. As we climbed, the altimeter wound round so fast that I lost count of our true height. The sky gradually darkened and soon was a deep purple, and there did not seem to be any horizon. Although we were still vertical I had no feeling of that attitude, and then, to my consternation, Switz cut the engine and the aircraft just hung there, no noise, only a slight rumble from the engine ticking over, a feeling of weightlessness and sublime relaxation. Then the aircraft gently tumbled over and began falling, still with no noise of any slipstream, and an uncanny feeling of what I could only describe as wonder as the whole of California and probably bits of adjoining states was spread out below us in a fantastic panorama of shades and colours. At this point Switz chose to say, ‘OK, you’ve got her.’ To say I had control would have been misleading, for the 104 showed no inclination to respond to any of its controls. However, as we descended into less rarified air the control surfaces began to bite, and soon we were back on even keel and heading for the airfield. The 104 was quite straightforward to land provided one had plenty of space, but sharp turns near the ground could be hazardous. Coming over the hedge fast, the actual landing was no problem, but the aircraft is quite long, and the nosewheel and main wheels are both well behind the cockpit and situated close together, so if the nosewheel is not placed firmly on the runway there is a tendency to induce a rocking motion about the main wheels, and it is easy to touch the tail if care is not taken. Capt Switz warned me about this as we landed, and I taxied onto the apron well satisfied and thrilled with my first flight in the ‘widow maker’, but I was glad to have had Switz with me!
When I was not flying or at lectures or demonstrations, the American public relations officer took me in hand and proved anxious to show me as much of California as possible. He was a charming man and spared no effort to please. On one occasion we drove around Hollywood and I was shown all the homes of the stars and several of the studios and all the interesting places along the Boulevard. We stopped at the famous candy shop favoured by the stars, and he bought a box of delicious chocolates, which we gradually consumed as we drove around. I remarked on how delicious they were and how much my wife would have liked them. He drove straight back to the shop and bought another box for me to take home for Eve. Not satisfied with this kindness, he used to send Eve a box of the same chocolates every year for some time afterwards. The next day we went down to the Mexican quarter of LA, and browsed round the fascinating market and sat out in the sun sipping tequila out of large wine glasses topped with sugar. Back at Edwards the British test pilots were flying several of the American advanced fighters, and the air was full of sonic bangs until they had all landed and returned, well satisfied, to the Officers’ Club.
It was soon time to leave this fascinating place, and the wide interests that were awakened by all we saw at Edwards and all the kind and hospitable people who had given us such a wonderful time. Their hospitality was not spent, however, and on our last evening the American team took us all to Las Vegas to an unforgettable experience of gambling, an obsession of wanton and unashamed pleasure seeking.
The next day we were scarcely airborne in the Viscount before two of Edwards’s fighters took up station on each wingtip and escorted us well on our way to Moffet, where NASA had its headquarters at Ames. After half a day with NASA, with whom the Edwards test pilots were hardly on speaking terms, we flew on to Nellis (Nevada), where the USAF had its Weapons School. The team spent two days here, with demonstrations and lectures laid on for us, and before leaving the Americans took us across to San Francisco. We had cocktails at the highest bar in town (Top of the Mark), and then we were taken down to Fisherman’s Creek for a splendid fish meal of lobster, crayfish and crab. After a tour of the picturesque city we were finally on our way home, when Eddy Rigg took over command of the Viscount as we took off from Nellis bound for Offot AFB (Nebraska). After a quick turnround we set course for Westover (Massachusetts), and en route we were able to fly very low over the Colorado River: the Canyon was a wonderful sight to see from the air. From Westover we picked up the same route across the States as the one we had flown on the way out some eighteen days before. We night-stopped at Goose Bay and Keflavick, and finally landed back at Lossiemouth on 21 January.
After a day or two catching up at the Ministry, Ray Watts and I sat down at Farnborough to write up our report of a very successful liaison visit to the States. While I had been away Peggy had amassed quite a lot of queries from the outstations, and it was necessary for me to embark on several flying visits. Peggy also drew my attention to the latest progress report on accident investigation. This reminded me of the very first day in my office when, after I took over from Pat, he came into the office and dropped onto my desk a large box. Throwing open the lid revealed a mass of electrical leads and wire spools. ‘You had better take this over, it’s a magic box that the Royal Aircraft Establishment are working on which records on wire details of an aircraft’s flight conditions. The finished box will be crash-proof and will provide vital clues for the investigation team of an air crash in the future.’ This was the birth of the ‘Black Box’!
Now I had to catch up with all my visits. The first was to Boscombe Down in the Devon with Eric Mather for a conference with the commandant, and to take the opportunity for a check on their air traffic controllers. We landed back at Farnborough with an ILS and radar approach. In February I visited Rochester and Chivenor, and at the beginning of March paid two visits to Warton. On the second I flew with Jimmy Dell in a Lightning Tr.592 on a general handling exercise, during which we did a Mach 1 run over St George’s Channel. After landing, Jimmy brought up the problem of continuation flying for his test pilots. While the Lightning was still doing development trials only a few aircraft were available and only a few development test pilots were able to fly them. Until the aircraft started coming off the production line he had several test pilots starved of flying hours who would not be in full flying practice when required. This was a problem shared by several other aircraft contractors, and I was able to solve the problem in the end, after a long battle with the Ministry civil servants who held the money bags, by getting them to authorize the attachment of civil test pilots to RAF fighter squadrons in order to maintain their flying hours – a solution that turned out to be satisfactory to all parties.
On 24 March Mather and I flew up in the Devon to Rolls-Royce in response to a request to go over and sort out a problem concerning the manning level of air traffic controllers. Our landing forecast for Hucknall was not good, but we decided to go and have a look. Arriving overhead we were offered a radar let-down, and on our final approach we broke cloud at 300 feet and a visibility of less than 900 yards: very good practice for the controller and the pilot. We did land safely!
On my return to the Ministry the next day there was a note on my desk from my director saying that he was being pressed by the finance department to take urgent action to recover an outstanding account for the hangarage of a civil aircraft at White Waltham. Peggy looked up the file and found this was a long-standing matter with Douglas Bader, who owned the aircraft, having been given it by the Shell Company on his retirement. I knew Douglas well from Battle of Britain days, so I rang him at home to warn him what was afoot. When he heard that the Ministry’s finance department was still chasing him for what was really a paltry sum, Douglas reacted as I guessed he would. His actual words were not repeatable, but he implied that while he and many others like him had been fighting to save their country those so-and-so penny-pinchers had been sitting on their fat arses in the underground shelters beneath Whitehall. ‘It’s not the money,’ he said, ‘but the principle of the thing that I object to.’ I, like my predecessor, tucked the relevant file away in a remote cabinet, and my successor made sure that the file was finally mislaid and Douglas was never called on to settle this trifling debt.
In April I managed to get some more continuation flying in the Dragonfly, and did my first helicopter cross-country to Boscombe Down, where I began to feel that I could discuss helicopter operations with the experts with better understanding.
Later in the month I became involved with the BBC over a controversy regarding the erection of a new television mast near East Haptree. I flew into Heathrow with Capt Marlow in a Dove to pick up representatives of the BBC and Sir Julian Amery, and we flew over the Bristol area to make a detailed reconnaissance of the proposed site for the TV mast. It was clear that it would infringe the safety criteria of both the civil aircraft using Bristol Whitchurch and, what was of more concern to me, the military aircraft on test flights from Filton and also helicopters from Weston. After several days of acrimonious discussions with the BBC, which foolishly had already started the construction of the mast, it was made to abandon the project on the grounds of aircraft safety.
On 12 May I went down to Cowes and joined Mr Phillips for trials of the SRN 3 Hovercraft in the Solent. We finally ran the Hovercraft ashore on the beach in front of Osborne House, where Cdr Lambe landed his little Widgeon and picked me up and flew me back to Cowes, On 20 May Mather and I took the Chipmunk down to Cowes again and on to Sandown to look at the Decca AR 1 Radar. On the 27th I took the Meteor 8 down to Boscombe Down and on to Filton, where I joined Mr Williams, a test pilot of the Bristol Aircraft Company, in the cockpit of Britannia XM 491, which he was flying for acceptance trials, including stalls and recovery and high-G turns. Finally Williams let me take over the controls and land this lovely aeroplane and taxi it back to the dispersal, where anxious ground crew were awaiting the ‘thumbs up’! For a very large aeroplane, the biggest I had ever flown, it handled beautifully, but I was soon to have more experience on large multi-engined aircraft.
In June I managed to get down to Farnborough for another helicopter flight in the Dragonfly, and now that I was getting more experience I took the opportunity of asking if I could now move on to a more advanced helicopter. The Test Pilots’ School was flying a Scout helicopter as part of its course, and it was fully engaged most of the time, but I was promised that I could have a flight when and if it became available. Unfortunately I left the Ministry before the promise could be fulfilled, but I always considered myself very lucky to have had the flying facilities at Farnborough that the commandant had generously offered. Later in the month I was given two dual flights in a Varsity, and then a solo flight on circuits and landings with a Master Engineer. On the 25th I took the Devon to Radlett, and after lunch and a briefing I joined Mr Allen in Victor 11, XH 672, and we flew down to Boscombe Down to flight-test the auto-land equipment fitted in the aircraft. The auto-land was also tied in to the ILS at Boscombe, and in the period of an hour we did seven ‘hands off’ landings. Allen brought the Victor into the ILS beam and selected auto-land, and both he and I folded our arms while the aircraft flew around the ILS pattern, turned itself onto the approach, flew down the glide slope and throttled back over the hedge, held off a few feet above the runway and settled down to a near-perfect landing. It was quite uncanny to sit back and watch the controls moving on their own to correct every deviation, and the throttles moving unassisted to maintain the correct airspeed. I couldn’t remember whether we selected wheels and flaps down before the landings, but I was quite sure the auto-land would not have landed without them This was a very convincing demonstration of how modern equipment could now allow passenger aircraft to land in safety in blind conditions. It was a little ironic that quite often a small van with an illuminated sign saying ‘Follow me’ had to come out to lead the electronic marvel to its terminal.