The Newark machine has no kills.

So? :confused: Should it be trucked away and used for landfill then as being unworthy?

On 21 July the Newark Air Museum also took delivery of a SHAR – ZA176 – from Yeovilton.

Here’s another shot from the same session.

They then did turrets and became experts in wot in Molesworth speek will be widgets for makin’ stuff go up n down an’ round an’ round.

Fairy nuff, widgets is wot it are then, same as mustangs being aloominim tubes with gunz and stuph. 😎 :rolleyes:

. . . Boulton Paul were the aircraft manufacturers, later widget (servos etc) makers

“Widget” makers? 😮 BP made the power flying control units for the Vulcans! Widgets indeed! 😉

Was there today, not many visitors but about a dozen volunteers working on various projects. MAM is a compact museum but has a wealth of exhibits and worth an hour or so looking around. The “staff” are very helpful and will talk your boots off, especially if you buy the coffees in the excellent little cafe they have (they make good sandwiches as well 😉 ).

Actually went down there to see WF922, one of only two PR.3 Canberras left. If you go, a Tuesday is usually best, ask for Malcolm the Canberra guy.

Couple of pics to whet your interest. The flying beast (whatever it is :confused: ) did some circuits but mosty it’s GA stuff.

😎

Encouraged by Steve’s tale about the Chippie, I thought you may enjoy one of mine . .

That day started well, even at breakfast. For the first time in weeks our daughter of 3 years hadn’t shared her cornflakes with our Westie dog, “Shorty”, by pouring the bowl over him. So, well pleased with this advancement in table manners, I left the married quarter for work hinking that the only thing to do now was to get No 1 daughter to give up wanting a knife and fork to eat her cornflakes.

Work that summer was one of he best and most relaxing times I had in the RAF. Wyton’s runway was closed for resurfacing and all the “heavies” – Victors of 543Sqd, 39Sqd’s Canberras, 51Sqd’s Comet, Hastings and Canberras – were detached to Honnington – the place was blissfully quiet! Pretty much all that was left was a few of 26Sqd’s Devons and Bassetts . . . and “my” Chipmunks. Apart from our two T.4 Canberras (which were detached to Honnington as well), the Chippies of Wyton’s TASFlt were used over the summer months for ATC flying etc, and for the rest of the year were flown by desk-bound, ground tour zobbits to keep them “current” and justify their flying pay. All in all, it was a cushy number, most flying being done by wingcos coming up from RAF Brampton (an HQ operation) just the other side of Huntingdon, and “heavies” pilots keeping their hand in on days off from Honnington. With the runway shut-down though, the thing took on the aspect of a flying club. Wyton’s pilots would phone in from Honnington to “book” a Chippie for a couple of hours of flying as would those flying desks at Brampton. As I said, it was a cushy number and the seven or eight of us on TASF could handle it with our eyes closed. The Chippies were no problem to keep running and the occasional “visiting” aircraft amounted to nothing more than Army Bell choppers from their exercise grounds at Thetford with film to be developed.

That fine summer’s day, all we had “on the book” though was a wingco from Brampton at 10:00. He’d flown with “Wyton Wings” before and was easy to get on with. I think he was on his last tour as he had flown during the war. He said he flew Mossies, (they ALL seemed to fly these didn’t they!), but when pressed though said he’d done most of his “interesting” flying on Lysanders – had a whole bunch of ribbons though.

He arrived at the 700 desk at around 09:00 with a golf bag! After explaining and showing him that this wouldn’t fit in the Chippie’s back seat, wingco elected to leave it behind but he wanted to take a couple of his clubs with him anyway. Eventually a plan was formed which was that I would go with him as supernumerary crew and hold his golf clubs in the back to stop them rattling around! He justified my presence by saying that anyway, he needed a travelling ground crew to do the turn-round and other “technical” things on the Chippie at his destination – Swanton Morley – and he’d see to it that I got a good lunch out of it. We’d be back by 15:00 or so and as there was nothing else on the horizon for us that day it seemed a “good thing” to me.

So, out to the kite, me in my old blue flying suit with three golf clubs, two extra Koffman cartridges in a paper bag, my trusty GS screwdriver and roll of “black tape” (for “emergencies” you understand). The wingco in a roll-neck sweater, with an Ordnance Survey map of Norfolk and a huge pair of “aviator” sunglasses. Take off from the grass was smooth and we turned east contacting Bedford radar to confirm transit at no higher that 2000ft.

A clear and sunny sky made the flight very pleasant for me. The golf clubs had stowed fairly easily beside the seat and the wingo up front was humming something tuneless. Almost immediately we’d spotted the unmistakable landmark of the twin “rivers”, a flood-control scheme consisting of two parallel man-made “cuts” about quarter of a mile apart that ran for a few miles over the fens – the New Bedford river. Pretty famous landmark though that all aircrew used as orientation. We’d follow these to Downham Market and then turn right!

After five minutes or so “wingco” asked if I would like to take control for a while. Would I! I’d done it before so I understood what to do, well, the general principles anyway. Two fingers and thumb holding the stick – not a tight “grip”, light touch is what’s needed – and I was soon enjoying the experience. After a couple of banking turns and a couple of dives and climbs, the wingco announced I seemed to be OK at control and holding it level so relax and enjoy it. I did so. Tuneless humming started up again from the front. All was good with the world. In front of us, Downham Market slowly came into view. I did the turn onto a heading of 90, as instructed by the wingco, to take us south of RAF Marham, we didn’t want to mix-it with Marham’s pattern, noisy jet things, and we continued on our way.

After a few minutes, the humming from the front stopped. Then the wingco asked if I was OK. I replied affirmative, having a great time. . . “Good” he said, “just keep holding us level then”. Next, much activity from the front seat as the guy started unfolding his ordnance survey map. It was soon all I could see in front of me as he moved it about, fully unfolded. Now a Chippie’s not the biggest of kites, there’s room, but not that much and unfolding a full spread of an ordnance survey map it not “best practice” I thought. Still, I flew on, confident the wingco knew his stuff.

After a few mutterings over the intercom he said “Do you know Swaffham?”. Yes I did know it, small town on the A47 I said. “Recognise it from the air can you?” I replied – “Uh. . .?” This probably was not the response he wanted. “Down there” he said. I looked. We were flying over a wooded area with a main road coming up under our nose. “Can’t see any town.” I said. “Exactly,” came the reply, “that’s the A47 isn’t it?” he continued. We were flying at right angles across the road by now, no town in sight. “A47 heads east” I said, pointing out that the road below us was running north/south. Pause, then “OK, that must be the A1065 then”. Still flying the Chippie I began to wonder if all was OK. Another long pause accompanied by much folding and re-folding of large map. “OK, I think I know the problem” I heard, “they’ve moved Swaffham on us! We must be well south, just turn port a bit will you.” I made a gentle banking turn to port until wingco announced, “Just in front, that must be the A47” another main road was coming up under our nose. “Take us down then, we’ll have a look.” Now I was happy to fly the thing upstairs in a million miles of clear, blue sky, but not anywhere near the ground – and said so. “Well, OK then, you take the map” and his arm appeared holding this jumbled-up ordnance survey map. It’s not that easy passing things from front to back, especially when you’re flying the thing and there’s three golf clubs to contend with as well. Anyway, I got the map and wingco took control. We zoomed down and turned onto the heading of the road. At a 800ft it is amazing what you can see on the ground – cars, barns, farmhouses, people, but most important, road signs. “Got it!” “Got what?” “Down there, to port, says Dereham!” “That’s good?” “Well of course it is, Swanton’s just north of there.”

So we flew along the A47 at around 700ft and turned left over Dereham. A few minutes later, Swanton’s tower cleared us for a straight run-in and we touched down on their grass field. We taxied to the tower where wingco was met by another wingco (who had probably flown Mossies as well). The three of us went into the tower where everybody seemed to know everybody else. I was introduced as “my” wingco’s “nav” and I was to be given whatever facilities I needed for the Chipmunk and “no” we didn’t need fuel, but I was to be given lunch in the mess. Saw to the Chippie, closed it up and off down the mess for lunch. Can’t remember what it was, but chicken would have been involved somewhere, it always is.

The flight back at around 14:00 was uneventful really. We headed west until we came across the twin Bedford rivers and followed them straight back to Wyton. On the way, wingco, who was in a really good mood (must have won his golf match) decided to do some ground attack on a flock of innocent sheep. That got the adrenalin flowing I can tell you. I’ve done a flight in a Canberra B(I)8 on the Nordhorn range shooting up lines of disused MT vehicles with the gun-pack fitted, but diving for the ground in a prop-job takes the prize in my opinion – even in a Chipmunk! It’s so. . . what?. . . “involving”! And the guy did shout “Attack, attack, attack. . . “. The sheep didn’t stand
a chance, as we strafed them, not even any return fire! As the wingco said, “Best of all targets, they were totally unprepared for our attack! We won the day, let’s go home for beer and medals” He wondered about putting a few dayglo cut-outs of sheep under the cockpit as “trophies”. Sounds silly now I know, but it was one of the many fun and memorable days I had that summer. 😎