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Tiger Squadron

Does anyone have a copy of this history of 74 Sqdn, please? If so, is it possible to e-mail a copy of the short poem tucked away in the Lightning era pages?

It begins ‘Ten Little Lightnings …’ or something like that and covers an attempted squadron scramble with a result typical of the early marks of Lightning.

In hope

Allan

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By: Guzzineil - 5th August 2005 at 16:12

Does this apply to Eurofighter Typhoons too.

I’ve never seen more than one going at any time!

you’re looking in the wrong places then….. 😀 😉 :p

I think there was a similar poem about the Tornado…

Neil.

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By: GASML - 5th August 2005 at 15:23

Does this apply to Eurofighter Typhoons too.

I’ve never seen more than one going at any time!

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By: ChiefofFairies - 4th August 2005 at 21:16

That’s the one!

Many thanks, DJJ. I lost my copy of that poem some years ago.

I think it described the Mk.1 Lightning pretty accurately!

Regards

Allan

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By: DJJ - 4th August 2005 at 21:09

Ten shiny Lightnings standing on the line,
One must have a wheel change, now there are nine.
Nine costly aircraft, looking simply great,
One needs a bullet change, now we have eight.
Eight eager Lightnings wait to soar to heaven,
One is put on QRA so now we’re left with seven.
Seven potent monsters which fly like powered bricks,
But one has sprung a fuel leak, leaving us with six.
Six high speed fighters must scramble to survive,
One can’t start an engine, so taxying are five.
Five Tiger warplanes running up full bore,
One’s AC comes off line, leaving only four.
Four remaining aircraft, straining to get free,
One has a fuel light one, for take off we have three.
Three noisy Lightnings, streaking for the blue,
One aborts with bird strike, and now we’re down to two.
Two lift off successfully, as all ten should have done,
The leader cannot raise his wheels, climbing there is one.
The one roars off to sea to chase the wily Hun,
But his AI blows every fuse and targets he finds none.
The costly interceptors lie on the hangar floor,
This surely cannot happen here… it can to 74!

(poet uncredited; page 206 of Bob Cossey’s book)

HTH

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