Memories. So many of the Chipmunk which probably gave so many of us our first taste of flight.
The excitement of travel to the AEF (mine was at Shawbury), the expectation with one eye tipped skywards wondering whether those bands of cloud on the horizon were ever going to trouble you. Would today be the day? After two weather aborted attempts I began to doubt it. A drizzly morning as we waited for the minibus turned to brilliant sunshine as we reached Shawbury. This was definitely going to be the day. The briefing (Jump, Jump John) as Steve so appropriately called it. The nervous wait while the order of who was going up first was sorted out.
“Mears! C’mon lad, get your parachute on, you’re up first.”
Cinched into the parachute so tightly you couldn’t straighten up. “I can’t move Sir.” “Good, you’ll be grateful it’s that tight if you need to jump.” And then, the Air Cadet waddle out to the aircraft, sitting there, engine running nicely, air rushing past as you make the always ungainly entrance to the rear seat. A confusion of straps to be fastened and you’re plugged into the intercom. The disjointed voice of the pilot comes through the earphones. I acknowledge. He calls again, he can’t hear me. Face turns beetroot red as I realise I didn’t activate the microphone. The calm voice continues its litany of what is happening. I pull the canopy forward when asked and it is closed. The sound changes. I’m scared, but very excited. I’ve waited months for this. The aircraft gathers speed down the runway and almost imperceptibly I feel the change as the aircraft lifts into the air. Cocconed as I am I watch the instruments in between looking out to the left and right. It’s finally here. I am flying. We climb steadily as I look down at the Shropshire landscape. I never knew rape fields to be such a vivid yellow. The whole world looks clean from here. So different from the industrial town I call home.
That voice in my ears again… “You have control.” “I have control Sir.” Can I really be doing this? I’m 14 years of age and I’m flying a Chipmunk. Gentle turns and a gradual descent. I haven’t a clue where we are, and I don’t really care. That voice again…. “I have control.” “You have control Sir.” The airfield is right in front of us as we whisper over the boundary fence, the wheels kiss the tarmac and with a little wiggle of the tail we are turning off the runway. We stop, and immediately eager hands are ready to help me out and get the next cadet in. It’s Col next, he hasn’t flown before either. He looks at me anxiously. Can’t he see the stupid grin I’m wearing? It took weeks to wipe off.
Back in the building.. “Well, Mears, what did you think?”
Twenty-eight years later I still have that grin. It was one of the most incredible experiences of my life and one I will never forget. I’m sorry for hijacking this thread but those mentions of the Chipmunk made me want to share my limited experience. We all have our memories and this forum provides an excellent platform from which to share them. I marvel at the experience, in all field, of many of the forum members, but whether it’s a trip in a Chipmunk, a flight in a Mustang or a trip round Europe in a Colt we all have something precious to share.
But Favourite? Chipmunk, Spitfire, Hampden, Wellington, Lancaster, Blenheim, Typhoon……. and on it goes. You choose, I know I can’t.
Regards,
kev35
Sign In
