This is not the trip as described fully in the book
“Flying used to be Fun.”
In the early seventies, much to everyone’s amazement the Royal Air Force agreed
with British Airways that the two organisations would allow the pilots in both
to fly with each other. All we had to do was to ring a Liaison Officer at
Uxbridge to make appropriate arrangements. My first efforts, together with two
friends, were agreed for late August and we drove up to RAF Coltishall. Sadly,
the weather was awful and no flying was possible but to check us out
they did set us up with a simulator session to see what it might be like. A
group of the pilots from the Squadron gave each individual a very, very quick
briefing on the cockpit once we were strapped in. Perhaps less than five
minutes to ensure we knew where the throttle and relight switches plus undercarriage
and flap controls were located. It seemed far to short as the canopy closed.
The instructor on the radio then cleared him to taxi out
and line up on the duty runway. The first “volunteer” was then cleared to take
off. After a reasonable first circuit he was soon positioned onto the final
approach. His landing and taxi in were soon completed and it was now my turn. I
prayed I would not let our side down. Of course the simulator cannot replicate
the “g” forces involved but this was substituted by total amazement as, with
full throttle and reheat applied, it seemed there was hardly time to blink
before I was obliged to ease the stick back and leap off the ground. Flying at
around two hundred knots now it was a race in a very unfamiliar cockpit to
remember to raise the undercarriage and switch off the reheats plus bringing
the flaps in. In no time I was ordered onto various headings to keep me roughly
in the circuit area. All too soon the aircraft was being turned onto final
approach heading for the landing as I tried to catch up with the beast.
The final turn was completed and I had actually remembered to put the undercarriage down and selected some flap as well. The arrival was almost right and I finally taxied into the dispersal area. Fortunately I don’t usually sweat but have to admit it must have been fairly close to breaking out this time. Our third colleague completed his turn as well and as he climbed out there was a sad moan from the group of RAF pilots who had witnessed our efforts to survive the beast. They then brought in the bucket of broken tin cans and small pieces of redundant metal they had saved for us. It was their expectation that at least one if not all of us would have broken their favourite toy and thus we had disappointed them of emptying the same bucket to draw attention to our failure. To be fair, they even bought the first round of beers when we all retired to the mess. (Part 2 in next Blog)
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