Commander Wilson came running up the steps and it stopped raining. He passed me not saying a word and set about ensuring the safe return of the airborne formation.
Watching the CO go about his business with the two controllers at their consoles, I wondered where I stood. My FB9, now clearly visible, was lying on its belly because of my own error. Added to this were my secret marriage, hypoxia, flame-out and electrical failure at night—all so close together that I felt the CO might give up on me now.
Flight Lieutenant Mac Geeringh, the ever-helpful friend to students, took me aside. Mac had originally served with the South African Air Force and had seen service in Korea where the loss of a nipple on his chest bore witness to one of the injuries he sustained when his Mustang fighter-bomber struck a landmine on a taxiway. He asked me what had happened.
I told Mac how I went to raise flaps but obviously moved the undercarriage lever instead. The downward forces when the fuselage dropped onto the runway would have brought my arm down and reset the undercarriage lever into the ‘down’ position.
Without hesitation Mac Geeringh told me not to say a word about this. “Just say the undercarriage collapsed on landing. Say not a word about lifting flap. Too much has happened to you already. Take no chances.”
Although I understood what Mac was saying—and why—I decided to repeat to the CO exactly what I had told Mac. I am glad I did.
Wing Commander Wilson knew that the undercarriage lever should have locked the moment the weight of the aircraft was on the wheels. He told me not to be too concerned for the moment because he had initiated a technical investigation to establish why the micro-switch in the undercarriage bay failed to energise the lock plunger on the undercarriage-operating lever. The answer to the CO’s queries was given by the STO (Senior Technical Officer) very promptly. He reported that the micro-switch on the port oleo worked normally until subjected to high-pressure water spray.
Notwithstanding the technical defect, I felt very embarrassed about this incident because I had been taught never to tamper with flap or undercarriage controls on the ground. Not long after this, Keith Corrans, flying with his instructor John Mussell, made an unavoidable wheels-up landing in a TII because of a punctured port wheel jamming the undercarriage in the retracted position. I have to say that when I saw this aircraft lying on its belly on the runway, I did not feel quite so bad about my cock-up, even though mine had been caused by my own piloting error.
Shortly after this our operational conversion was complete and all ten members of my course were offered a Medium Service Commission for regular service in the Royal Rhodesian Air Force. Nine of us accepted. Ian Ferguson opted to return to his first love, farming. This meant that No 10 SSU, with a 90% return on training costs, became the most fruitful of any SSU course ever trained by the Royal Rhodesian Air Force.
Beryl and I went on Christmas leave to Northern Rhodesia where Mum and Berry met Beryl for the first time. We had collected my grandmother on our way through Salisbury and returned her there, having enjoyed a magnificent time at Mkushi.
Chapter 3
No 1 Squadron
ON 3 JANUARY 1959 WE returned from Christmas leave and I was very pleased to learn that I had been posted to No 1 Squadron together with Dave Thorne, Eric Cary, Bill Galloway and Keith Corrans. Before being split up to go our various ways, my course was summoned to Wing Commander Wilson’s office to take commissioning oaths and sign a ten-years’ Medium Service contract. (On completion of ten years, one could apply for permanent service.)
Only after this had been done did the CO tell Group HQ about my marriage. As expected, he got one hell of a rocket for withholding this information for five long months. The next day I was called to his office again to be told that I would be called to Group HQ in the near future for an interview with the Chief of Air Staff, Air Vice- Marshal Ted Jacklin. In the meanwhile I was to get on and establish myself as a useful squadron pilot.
No 1 Squadron was a regular-sized squadron in terms of its fifteen pilots but was very short staffed on the technical side with only thirteen technicians led by a frosty, no-nonsense old timer Scot, Flight Sergeant Jimmy Stewart, who was the NCO in charge of all technical matters.
Flight Lieutenant Colin Graves commanded the squadron with Bob Woodward (ex-RAF Central Flying School) and Flying Officer Norman Walsh as his flight commanders. Three of the PAIs who had instructed my course on weapons, Randy du Rand, Justin Varkevisser and Peter McClurg, remained with No 1 Squadron. Basil Green, Eddie Wilkinson, Ted Stevenson and Mike Reynolds made up the balance of our numbers.
Frank Mussell, Ted Brent and Brian Horney had been posted off the squadron to join other pilots for a conversion onto Canberra bombers at RAF Bassingborne in the UK. Sandy Mutch also left the squadron for a Staff position in Group HQ.
Thornhill worked different hours to both Group HQ and New Sarum. The aircrew workday commenced at 06:30 in the station briefing room where OC Flying covered any non-routine events. This was followed by that day’s meteorological forecast given by the resident meteorologist, Mr Harvey Quail. Thereafter everyone went about his normal business and regular work ceased at 13:30.
Everyone was free to do his own thing in the afternoon. For the most part this involved sports followed by a few drinks in the all ranks Sports Club or within individual messes. A pilot’s life in those days seemed to be more like being on permanent holiday than working for a living.
Interview with Commander
I HAD BEEN DREADING MY INTERVIEW with the Air Force Commander, which occurred on 3 February 1959. Having been authorised to fly myself to New Sarum in a T11 for the occasion, I was pleased to be approached by Mike Reynolds who wanted a lift to attend to private business in Salisbury. We landed at New Sarum a whole hour ahead of my 10:00 appointment and Mike raced off immediately saying he should be back at lunchtime.
Because I was so nervous about the interview, Beryl had approached a chemist friend who gave her a small white tranquilliser tablet and a larger one to offset drowsiness induced by the first. These were to be taken thirty minutes before my interview.
Ten minutes before due time I reported to Group Captain Harold Hawkins. This large, good-looking man was much gentler than I had expected. He told me to relax and said, “The old man is going to give you a going over like you will never have to face again. But don’t worry, all will be fine.' ‘Harry the Hawk’, as he was known, was not to know that I was so relaxed by the tranquilliser tablet I had taken twenty minutes earlier that my fears were all but gone.
At precisely 10 o’clock I was ushered into the Chief of Air Staff’s office. I had only seen this revered man once before at our Wings Parade and the Wings Ball that followed it. Having saluted him I remained at attention in
