February 1963
I started off July with two more helicopter flights, and did an ILS trial in the Varsity with Eric Mather. Later I took the Varsity to Woodford to discuss flight safety measures with Hawker Siddeley management. While there I joined Mr Harrison on handling trials of an HS 748 Andover, including stalls, single-engine flying and a demonstration of the aircraft’s STOL capabilities. After lunch I took off with Mr Blackman in Vulcan 2 XL 384 on a minimum-speed handling trial, after which we did some coupled-ILS approaches at Manchester before landing back at Woodford, where I picked up the Varsity and flew back to Farnborough with Eric. On the 17th I joined the crew of Hastings 480 on a navigation trial from Farnborough, in which we carried out several homings, let-downs and approaches at airfields spread all around the country. At the end of the month I had an enjoyable trip to Nice, flying with Sqn Ldr Harper in Comet 2E XN 453 with six crew on a VLF radio trial lasting three hours twenty minutes and giving me some time in the second pilot’s seat. Excitement was growing at the approaching first flight of the TSR2, and I was doing several flights to Warton to talk to ‘B’ Beamont, the chief test pilot, to work out the safety routes to be flown and special air safety matters required for the first flight. It took a little time, but finally ‘B’ took me into the secure hangar to see this remarkable aircraft and to show me its very advanced electronic fit and overall design. There was no doubt in my view that this was an aircraft well ahead of its time, a technical triumph that was more advanced than other possible rivals outside Britain. Designed as a tactical strike/recce aircraft by Freddie Page, it was initially to be built by English Electric at Warton, but the government intervened and ruled that construction should be shared with Vickers at Weybridge. This was to result in further delays to what was already a programme running late and beyond budget. This problem, which was endemic in the design and production of all modern, sophisticated aircraft, was to become a vital factor in the future of this splendid aeroplane. The unbelievable, misguided opinions of government ministers at this time was epitomized by Duncan Sandys’ declaration in 1957 that in his view there was no longer a need for manned aircraft as the country’s defence needs could now be met by automated missiles! The newly elected Labour government, always conscious of votes, could not stomach the idea of spending millions of pounds of public money on the further development of the TSR2. In the meantime the aircraft had been taken down to Boscombe Down and made its first flight. Several more flights followed, with enthusiastic reports from ‘B’ Beamont that it had performed better than expected and continued to do so on subsequent flights.
The government’s view at this time seemed to be blinkered by the short-term costs, and it lacked the vision to appreciate the value of having an outstanding strike aircraft that was badly needed in our own Air Force and would certainly sell to many other nations worldwide (the Australians had already shown a lively interest in the aircraft). Its production would provide great prospects for increased employment in the aircraft industry as well as useful foreign currency. But the company was not only up against the government in its efforts to convince opinions that the aircraft would become a world beater. Surprisingly, Admiral Lord Mountbatten, always jealous that the Royal Air Force would be given preference over the Naval Air Arm, made a special trip to Australia and actually persuaded their Defence Department to drop its preliminary intentions to buy the TSR2, and instead to buy the American F-111, which would be available sooner and cost less. In due course of time the Australians did buy the F-111, which was not a successful aeroplane, but it meant the end of the argument in favour of the TSR2, and the British government withdrew its support for the project.
Then followed two of the worst and infamous actions by any government in modern times. Instead of telling the company confidentially that the aircraft was to be cancelled, so that the management could break the news to its works staff in the kindest way possible, the Under-Secretary announced it first in Parliament. But the next act was even worse, and no one from the Prime Minister down has ever admitted to giving the order to this shameful and blatant act of vandalism. The company was told to destroy all the remaining airframes of the TSR2, so that, presumably, there was no chance of the aircraft ever being put into production. One can only imagine the chagrin and bitterness of all those skilled and dedicated men who had worked tirelessly to get this splendid aircraft into the air where it belonged, not to mention the Royal Air Force squadrons which had eagerly awaited such an outstanding replacement strike aircraft.
On this sad note I left the Ministry of Aviation at the end of my tour. I had enjoyed the best possible support from all my staff, and Peggy had been wonderful in making all the arrangements for my many visits around the aircraft construction companies and running the office in my absence. I was pleased to receive a letter from each of the senior test pilots saying how much they appreciated the efforts of my office in looking after their interests while I had been in the hot seat, and wishing me the best of luck in my new job.
I realized how very fortunate I had been to get my acting group captain rank and step into such an interesting job at the Ministry of Aviation. I felt that my luck could not hold, but nevertheless I hoped that I might be considered to command a flying station. The chances of a fighter station were certainly very remote, for I had been away from fighter operations for a long time, but I did hope that I might be considered for a bomber base, as I had recently had a little experience of operating ‘V’ bombers. But this experience was minimal and I was not surprised when my hopes were not realized. But the Postings staff came up with a most satisfactory compromise. I was posted to command Royal Air Force Lindholme, which was a flying station with the Bomber Command Bombing School, training radar navigators for the ‘V’ Bomber Force. The fact that this training was undertaken in Hastings aircraft was rather a disappointment, but at least I would be getting some flying, even though of a different order from that to which I had been accustomed. Before taking up my appointment I was attached to No. 242 Operational Conversion Unit at Thorney Island to obtain my Hastings rating. On 17 August I joined Flt Lt Jackson in Hastings 587 as second pilot in a liaison flight to St Mawgan and return as a first introduction to this large, heavy aeroplane. Three days later I flew with Jackson again on a dual conversion exercise in the Hastings, and as he pointed out, this was a very different sort of flying from the fighters on which I had been brought up. The minimum crew required was a second pilot as a back-up and to assist with selection of flaps and landing gear, and an engineer to handle the four Pegasus sleeve-valve engines and their fuel system. A navigator was also carried. When the auto-pilot was disengaged I found that one needed both hands on the controls to manage the aircraft, particularly in rough weather, and therefore on the approach to land the control of the engine throttles was handed over to the engineer, who had duplicate throttles and engine instruments, and whose duty was to follow the instructions on power settings passed by the captain. On my first approach, as I wrestled with the control column with both hands, I couldn’t help smiling to myself as I recalled my old instructor’s remarks on my very first dual flight: ‘Just use finger and thumb on the stick, it will give you a better feel for the aircraft.’ This one had no feelings, and only brute force had results, but after a few hours I began to enjoy flying the Hastings. On my second dual flight I had a flight check from the CFI, and in the afternoon I was launched off on a solo flight with a slightly nervous second pilot and engineer, but all went well and I finished up by doing a GCI approach and landing. Landings were energetic but not difficult, but if one got it a bit wrong and left the hold-off too late, the Hastings would do the most prodigious bounce. But it was a sturdy aircraft and could put up with quite a lot of punishment. It certainly proved its worth during the Berlin Airlift, when Hastings flew a huge number of sorties, both day and night, to beat the Russians’ attempt to isolate Berlin from the Western Powers. After three more dual conversion flights I was given my instrument rating test by Sqn Ldr Shield on 28 August and pronounced competent on type. Before leaving Thorney Island I managed to get myself a ride in the left-hand seat of Argosy XN 855, and did several approaches and landings. It was a large aircraft but so much lighter to handle than the Hastings, which lacked power-assisted controls.
On reporting to Royal Air Force Lindholme I found that as well as operating Hastings we also flew Varsity aircraft for visual bombing training. As I had already qualified on the Varsity at Farnborough I only needed a refresher check flight, which I completed with Flt Lt Perry on 14 September. Lindholme was quite a large station, whose primary task was training budding radar navigators for the ‘V’ Force, so a regular intake of students would arrive each month and the flying programme was fairly intense. At this time the ‘Cold War’ was at its height, and one of my tasks was to lecture each course and emphasize the vital importance for each one of them to face up to the possibility of finding themselves in control of a nuclear weapon, asking if they would have the moral courage to release it if ordered to do so. It was an extremely difficult dilemma with which to be faced, but as I explained, a deterrent ceased to be viable unless everyone showed a determination and willingness to use it in the last resort. This was the teaching of the country’s strategy, and it was quite absurd for people like CND to protest against the very weapons that were holding at bay a possible world catastrophe.
Our Hastings were fitted with the latest H2S radar, and the navigators’ training consisted of navigating by radar to find pinpoint targets previously selected at many sites throughout the British Isles. Thus each sortie was often of three or four hours’ duration, and as I took my turn in flying on the training sorties I was finding my flying was taking up far more of my day than in the past. As commander of quite a large station I had wide responsibilities, and I had to engage in meticulous planning for each day of every week. Mostly my flying had to take a low place in my priorities, as my duties of running the station took up more and more time. As well as the Hastings flying, I also took my turn in flying the Varsity on visual bombing training for the navigators, which meant frequent visits to the bombing ranges at Holbeach, Wainfleet and Theddlethorpe. Each month to the end of the year I was averaging four Varsity and three Hastings sorties. I enjoyed one advantage over the other station commanders in Bomber Command in that I could fly my station’s sports teams to their away fixtures in the Command competitions by making use of our Hastings fitted with passenger seats. I could also take this aircraft occasionally on overseas flights with a load of deserving airmen and airwomen as a reward for work particularly well done. These trips were usually to Cyprus or Malta, and provided valuable overseas training for my navigators.
In February 1965 the course began visual bombing at night, so I was gaining night-flying experience on the Varsity. I also did night continuation training on the Hastings from time to time. On 8 March I took the station golf team to Germany, landing at Düsseldorf and Wildenrath. In early April I was due for a Hastings type test and rating by the QFI. Lindholme was situated right alonside the old A1 main road, and when the principal runway was in use traffic lights were in operation to stop public traffic crossing the end of the runway. To separate the runway from the road there was a ‘frangible’ fence, as it was, as a matter of necessity, very close to the touchdown point. Having completed my QFI check satisfactorily, I brought the Hastings in over the road feeling quite pleased with myself, and seeing traffic held up by the lights on either side of the runway I thought I could do a smart smooth landing just to show them. The landing was fine, but unfortunately I collected a length of fence in the process. That taught me to show off! It was just as well that it was of ‘frangible’ wood and that no damage was caused to the Hastings.
A few days later we were all saddened to hear that Winston Churchill had died. I think that we surviving members of the Battle of Britain cherished a special affection for the man who had so stirringly portrayed the vital part played in the war by ‘The Few’.
We were honoured and touched that some of us had been chosen to take a prominent part in his funeral procession. Twelve of us, consequently, were assembled at RAF Uxbridge for two days’ drill and rehearsals, and then fitted out with ceremonial swords and belts. On the day of the funeral under the command of Air Cdre Al Deare, the distinguished New Zealand fighter pilot, we marched in solemn slow time near the head of the funeral procession through the streets of London, remembering with gratitude the great man who had done so much to bring us ultimate victory.