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Aviation History
1937
1937 - 1455.PDF
JUNE 3, 1937. FLIGHT. 547 Ldr. H. H Brooks, and in the past few weeks the squadron has been putting in as many hours as possible on its new mounts. The descriptive adjectives used by the pilots in discussing their Blenheims are worthy of any American Press agent. The fuselage of the Blenheim is just wide enough to permit the installation of dual controls, which are essential in view of the complete novelty of the machines, so one was able to sit " up front " with Wing Com. F. J. Vincent during his demon stration of a Blenheim in a rehearsal for Empire Air Day. As only one pilot is normally carried the instruments are grouped on the port side of the cockpit, the corresponding space to starboard accommodating the bomb aimer, whose windows afford one an excellent view of happenings below. With the D.H. airscrews in fine pitch and the twin Bristol Mercuries delivering nearly 1,500 h.p. between them, the Blenheim was soon off, but the Wing Commander deliberately held it down, pulling the. nose up over the boundary in a most impressive climb. Mention of the A.S.I, readings "during the subsequent dives and fly-pasts is taboo, but one was convinced that the Blenheim could fly away from any fighter yet in service with the greatest of ease. On the controls it seemed a dream of delight, and the landing was far from the ordeal which is popularly supposed to be unavoidable with a machine of the Blenheim's calibre. The remainder of the afternoon was soon spent admiring the evolutions of the Hinds of No. 139 (Bomber) Squadron, of a Tutor in the "instructional flying " event, and the aerobatics of a flight of Gladiators from Henlow. It would not, one felt, have been the fault of the service if the Day was not a success. ROUND SOME OF THE STATIONS BY AIR Saturday midday at Hendon. The nascent setpiece simmers in a heat haze. There is a smell of tar and a solitary Kestrel mutters to a pair of fitters by the Auxiliary hangars. Visible activity is nil as we skirt the aerodrome to report to Sqn. Ldr. Carnegie at No. 24 Squadron's hangars. We await the Valentia, which is to bear us into the after noon heat to see Empire Air Day at typical Service aerodromes. The massive Vickers floats whispering down, as though afraid to disturb Hendon's siesta. " Blood chits " are duly com pleted in the watch office and we choose a collapsible seat in the trooper's cabin. Strange, boarding a Service aircraft with no parachute trappings, but what a sense of security this silvery giant imparts! Some delay in borrowing a gas starter for a recalcitrant Pegasus demands a slight modification of programme—no landing is made at Odiham. However, the Valentia's shadow sweeps across the aerodrome as a trio of Hectors gathers up its message, releasing puffs of white smoke. Odiham is getting going. Off again into the blue towards Tangmere. The gathering here blossoms into acres of upturned faces as we boom past the array of Furies and visiting machines. A large, low-flying The Nash and Thompson gun turret fitted to a Hawker Demon, with Flight's representative demonstrating firing over the side. (Flight photograph.) Hectors of No. 13 (A.C.) Squadron, Odiham, practising an echelon formation above the clouds. (Flight photograph.) aeroplane is guaranteed to captivate any crowd. Tangmere is having a good time. The Valentia's bulbous nose swings round to the west. Shallow inroads from the sea trail under our wings, and so down to Lee-011-the-Solent with its groups of grey Sharks and assorted Service machines of all calibres from a Whitley to a Moth. The Valentia seems magnetised. There is a general pilgrimage towards her before she stops rolling. Size draws them every time. Fifteen minutes for a stroll round. Sons of the Solent peer into the Whitley's lower gun position, goggling wondrously at devices officially taboo. Isn't it Empire Air Day? The cabin is eventually purged of inquisitive juniors and we are off in time to watch from above the destruction of a pirate junk by a variety of aeroplanes. Lee is having the time of its life. The wakes of Sato Londons etch the grey Solent off Calshot. We are spotted by a Walrus spotter amphibian which seems as interested in our maternal bulk as we are in its fantastic outline. And so we leave the seafarers to their shoals and currents to swing inland for Worthy Down, which greets us with an overturned Hawker and a barrage of " Archie " fire, the latter not as a salute but in retaliation against a raiding squadron. The smell of the blank ammunition is reminiscent of a Brock's benefit; and how the youngsters revel in it, flinching at each report but grinning immediately to prove they are not gun-shy. A special bouquet for Worthy Down for organising a series of competitions for models, aeroplane drawings, camera-gun and machine-gun shooting and height guessing. A rabbit scurries about blindly under our wing as we take off for Upper Heyford. We peep in at Andover and Abingdon. Upper Heyford is selling aviation like hot cakes to a crowd which must approach the 6,000 mark. Nine Hinds are worry-
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