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Aviation History
1953
1953 - 1439.PDF
FLIGHT, 30 October 1953 593 Senior officers of 217: (left to right) F/L E. E. Stocker, D.S.O., D.F.C., S/L M. A. Ensor, D.S.O., D.F.C. (officer commanding), F/L L. G. H. Reed, M.V.O., D.F.C. (now S/L., in charge of Home Command O.C.T.U., Hawarden), and F/L. P. Dawes, M.B.E. (now on U.S.A. exchange tour). THE NEPTUNE IN SERVICE . . . landing approach, and, after touching down, the action of the Hamilton airscrews in reverse pitch brought a ready and effective braking to reduce the landing run. We had received an appetizing foretaste of the Neptune's behaviour: aerodynamically it seemed superb, and had handled very pleasantly indeed. It now remained for us to sample a typical 12-hour long-range flight with two of the squadron's crews, and this we did the following day. An appallingly early breakfast was followed by met. and signals briefing at 0700 hr, in preparation for an eight o'clock take-off. The two aircraft were to fly to the Lofoten Islands, and periodic radio signals were to be transmitted during the flight for test purposes. The weather was not promising; above the station hung a medium-level overcast, while we were expected to cross a cold front about halfway to our objective. We joined our respective crews. John Yoxall, already cursing the non-photographic weather, was to fly in G for George, captained by F/L. Peter Dawes, M.B.E., while I was to accom pany F/L. Ian Walmsley (son of Air Marshal Sir Hugh Walmsley, previously A.O.C-in-C, Flying Training Command) and crew in F for Fox. Our crew comprised F/O. P. G. C. Wilson (second pilot), F/S. H. W. E. Crossman (navigator), Sgt. R. L. Morgan (engineer), F/S. D. McCulloch, Sgt. G. A. Hughes and Sgt. B. Willcock (signals). It transpired that F/L. Dawes and F/L. Walmsley had flown one of the two original Neptunes over from the U.S.A.—and that F/S. McCulloch had also been a crew- member on that delivery flight. Entering by the rear hatch (equipped with parachute, Mae West, survival suit and chocolate ration) and stowing suit and 'chute, I moved past the radio operator's position to sit on the rear of the main spar box (which passes straight through the fuselage), there to await take-off. Although much and varied equipment is carried inside the Neptune, one does not feel cramped within the fuselage. Between the pilots' compartment and the wing spar are the posi tions of radar operator and navigator, both on the starboard side. Aft of the spar the port-side walkway continues past the two radio operators' positions and the galley equipment (including coffee percolator): between here and the tail it might be safest for security reasons to mention only the chemical closet—surely not "classified," although it does feature a convenient intercom point —but the 0.5in mid-upper and 20-mm tail turrets are visibly obvious, and equally important. Apart from these two turrets, the only other crew position is the 20-mm nose turret and bomb- aiming compartment. Luck was not with us that day. First indication came at 0755 as George, just ahead of us at the end of the runway, taxied slowly along it, instead of accelerating for take-off, and returned to its position on the line. Over the radio we heard the reason: locking pins missing from the co-pilot's hatch, discovered on the pre-take- off check. This was not all: after returning to the line, George s nosewheel pressure was found to be low, resulting in an even longer delay. Coming aft and explaining the trouble, F/L. Walmsley forecast that this was going to be one of those days. As we were soon to find out, it was indeed. After waiting some 40 minutes, our captain decided to take-off and continue waiting aloft. But this was not to be, for on running up the starboard engine, a loud, erratic and most disconcerting banging occurred, to be followed by similar behaviour from the port-side unit. The extended idling period had obviously had a decided oiling-up effect, and an effect not to be overcome by con ventionally leaning the mixture. Drastic action was necessary and —after we had followed the track of George slowly along and off the runway—was taken. Power was added, and retained until the excessive oil had been burnt out and both engines were again functioning normally. Approximately one hour after the engines had been initially started, we followed George on to the runway again, this time actually to take-off. With about one mile separation between the two aircraft, we headed out across the North Sea, glinting a pale grey-blue below. Ahead was no horizon, just an amorphous haze joining sea and wide-stretching stratus cloud. Cruising at 2,000ft and 180 kt (top speed of the type is quoted as 295 kt), we continued on through dull, passively unfriendly weather. The "sailor's eye" for weather, so highly developed in Coastal Command pilots, enabled F/L. Walmsley to estimate wind direction and strength with uncanny accuracy from a brief glance at the surface wind-lanes below. An amateurish attempt by the writer to do the same was followed by a course-change made in order to perform with precision a wind-finding exercise straight out of a navigational text-book. Moving back from the pilots' compartment, I was able to speak with the other members of the seven-man crew. All on board thought highly of the Neptune's specialized equipment for their own particular duties, and of its general comfort and performance. On long trips, a folding stretcher-type bunk can be let down from the port side of the forward fuselage, above the entrance hatch and abeam of the positions of the radar operator and the navigator. The radar equipment is extensive; beneath the fuselage is the massive radome housing the search radar installation, while "other radar units" are contained in the wing-tip nacelles. The forward end of the starboard nacelle contains in addition the powerful (70- million candlepower) searchlight for low-level oversea duties. Some three hours after take-off came bad news again, with an R/T. message from George reporting a mag drop on the port engine. This was definitely not our lucky day. The trouble con tinued and it was decided to turn in to the Norwegian coast for an attempt at photography to be made, while awaiting radio instruc tions from base as to whether to proceed norm or to return with George. By this time the haze had thickened considerably, and visual contact with the aircraft ahead had been lost. After some twenty minutes, we reached the coast and, with the aid of radar, made a rendezvous with George over a point off the coast just south of Kristiansund. Low flying for the benefit of John Yoxall's camera then followed —not easy along such a coastline in the best of weather, but distinctly hazardous through the viscous grey murk which cut down our visibility to a most unhealthy level. Little more con cerning that section of the flight need be written here—though an equal reticence was not observed by the crews, and with reason, on their return. Awaiting instructions from base, we accompanied George as he turned back and set course for home. It was not long, however, before the order for Fox to proceed to die Lofotens as arranged was received, whereupon we ceased "holding George's hand" and turned north once more. Soon we were passing through the cold front so accurately forecast by met. that morning. As we continued through cloud, F/L. Walmsley handed over the controls for me to obtain a first-hand example of patrol-flying in the Neptune from the pilot's point of view. The liveliness of the previous day's demonstration was obviously not required, but doubts concerning the machine's ability to fly steadily, firmly and without pilot fatigue on a straight and level course for a length of time were rapidly dispelled. Trimmed for normal cruise at 180 kt, the aircraft required negligible effort (even from one unused to the type) to maintain course and height under I.F.R. conditions. As we passed through the cold front into the region of scattered cumulus beyond, I switched-in the Neptune's admirable automatic pilot, and was able to relax still further. Normal flight was rock-steady, while the response to the finger-tip movements on the autopilot control box was immediate and sensitive—as surprisingly pleasant, in fact, as trie freshly made coffee I was drinking at the time. Below a solid layer of stratus we flew on, across the Arctic Circle and towards our objective. With the autopilot off, I resumed manual control, and from the navigator's terse instruc tions effected the occasional slight changes of heading made neces sary by mere human course-keeping. The first sight of the Lofoten Islands, ahead and to starboard, was of isolated peaks, jutting up in the distance from the flat monotony of the sea. Soon we were converging on the lower, southwest line of islands, their snow-covered range of mountains a jagged outline against the heavy layers of a grey sky. As we apnroached the coastline, with F/L. Walmsley taking over control again for the last few miles, the cold, awesome grandeur of the Islands cou'd be fully felt. Strange, desolate and still, the majestic glacial slopes and crags formed an icy backdrop as we flew over and along the twisting fiords. A few scattered houses at the feet of the mountains and the occasional moored fishing boat were the only signs of human activity. To experience the calm, chill beauty of this lonely
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