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Aviation History
1957
1957 - 0388.PDF
390 "A hard, brash spark of the hook, and the beam from the D.I. light squeezed bright between nose and deck . . ." FLIGHT Ark's Day . .. officers who had come straight from the deck. A couple of goon-skins, some battledress suits, and the majority in ordinary uniform. One or two older, practical men's faces and a few onthe youthful side contrasted with the majority—an average- looking sample of men. There were present Ops, Direction Officer, Little F, squadronQOs, A.E.O., A.L.O., F.D.O., A.C.R.O., F.D.E.O., H.C.O. M.C.O., gunnery officer, T.A.S. officer and others—in all, ahefty collection of initials. A lot of people are involved when you start flying aeroplanes from carriers. After an early supper that evening, I was one of six unfortunatesselected to appear in a programme on the ship's own closed- circuit television network. Reluctantly leaving Lofty, thebearded CO. of the ship's helicopter flight, to continue discuss- ing vintage cars over coffee, we were taken away by our roundand amiable inquisitor, the ship's bosun, via mess-decks, pitch- black weather decks and murderous, steel companionways to thesmall closet that was the studio. The title of our epic programme was Justify Your Existence. The entertainment was obviously planned to a tight time-schedule, for we had arrived while an earlier programme was stiH running. "Don't forget," a bald lieutenant-commander wassaying, as he waved a piece of metal vigorously at the camera, "ejectors are important." We crawled on hands and kneesacross the room, between camera and subject. "Remember!"— the sharp call stopped us in mid-crawl—"your ejectors. Theyare very important." The certainty that this expert could easily justify his existence was unaffected by the fact that I had not thefaintest idea what he was talking about. Our programme was intended to introduce to the ship someof the strange people (the bosun gave an unusual intonation to the word "strange") on board Ark. The others comprised a com-mander of the Admiral's staff ("Certainly I deny we do nothing. Neither do we occupy the best accommodation"); a major in theCarrier-Borne Ground Liaison Section; an R.A.S.C. private in the C.B.G.L. unit ("Honestly, no, I don't really believe inhammocks"); an R.N.R. officer carrying out his twelve-month period with the Fleet; and the moustached ex-Shackleton pilot onexchange posting with 849 "B" ("Then they said 'night deck- landings'—and they actually meant it!") Escaping with relief, we sought out the wardroom bar toquieten our nerves before going up to watch the night flying. Our genial liaison officer, Ops 3, had previously spoken enthusiasticallyabout the wonders of Ark's television, but then he had inter- viewed Miss Simone Silva on his programme, which was rathera different matter. * * * We watched the flying that night from Flyco. There was a fullmoon, shining on a calm grey sea which, nearer the ship, changed to a choppy, dark blue. Against the windows of Flyco and thebridge blustered a noisy wind. Directly ahead of the ship were the lights of Apollo, the fast minelayer which had taken over asplaneguard for the night. Shadowy figures moved across the dark flight-deck. The deck- lighting seemed sparse, comprising only centre-line and boundarylights along the angled deck, and a flat arrow of amber lights indicating "80ft to go." Although not visible frorn the island,there was in addition a line of lights indicating the round-down. Immediately below us were five hooded Hawks—wings folded,protective covers over canopies, securely picketed in the shadow of the island. The sequence followed that during the day. "Aircrew man air-craft" . . . "Man the range" . . . "Stand clear of propellers and jet-pipes." Flyco's red traffic-light on, and the start-up signal—pilots and flight-deck officer now communicating by means of the aircraft's downward-identification light and an amber wand.Navigation lights flashed; amber traffic-light on; and the Venoms taxi forward, following the sure, smooth movements of thedirectors' wands. Flyco's traffic-light turns to green, the signal to begin launching.The flight-deck officer at the catapults circles a green wand above his head—not that we see him, only the circling green pencil—and in the grey darkness there is take-off power. The aircraft's navigation lights flash on, signalling that the pilot is ready. Thegreen wand cuts down like a cathode-ray trace, and the launches have begun. After the Venoms have disappeared for their night intercep-tions, three Gannets take off to practice touch-and-go landings. Only one of the mirror-sight source lights is switched on—anample intensity for night conditions. The squadron CO. watches from Flyco, too, commenting by R/T to the pilot after eachlanding ("Nine seven—too fast and to port"). Three red lights, the outer ones moving up and down slowly in relation to thecentre one, are seen in the port catwalk near the mirror, giving the Flyco watchers an indication of each machine's final approach.The night batsman still has a useful function, but he is now look- ing at the nav. lights in the mirror, and his signals are informationfor Flyco, not guidance for pilots. In the subdued lighting of the bridge and Flyco, the occupantswait, watch, and carry out their unobtrusive duties. Two midshipmen keep the log of aircraft movements and answervoice-tubes and telephones. Little F's bearded operator keeps an R/T listening watch. Commander (Air) watches also, as doesthe Captain. Near the Captain stands his capable, experienced Chief Yeoman—and all the other skilled men whose job it is tolook after the ship side of things. Most dramatic of the night landings are those of the Venoms.Navigation lights tilt on to an unseen final leg—a slow, gradual approach, it seems. The lights come steadily nearer, and finallyappear to accelerate and rush down towards the deck, the moment of arrival marked with a hard, brash spark of the hook and thebeam from the D.I. light squeezed bright between nose and deck. Between each land-on, small deck-level floodlights alongsidethe arrester wires were switched on, enabling the re-setting of wires to be checked. Day or night, six wires were used, themirror sight set up so that a perfectly flown approach would end with the hook engaged in No. 2 wire. The angle and heightof the mirror were adjusted for the particular aircraft type. Night flying continued on an hourly cycle. At 2220 twoVenoms were launched and two recovered At 2320 two were recovered, and the day's flying programme was ended. Lights
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