I pointed this thread out to Peter Wheeler, who runs the New Zealand bomber Command Association. he has replied:
“Really interesting.
The crew obviously had a KIWI, .
DV171 was issued to 12 Sq then moved with their C Flight to form 626 sq at Wickenby ( One Group)
I assume to went back for overhaul at Avros before being reissued to 463 Sq. This was an Aussie squadron and DV171 was lost 24/9/44.
So the best guess the art was done while at 626 which had a number of kiwis including our John Tarbuck.
You can certainly let them know that paintings on fabric were done and doped to the aircraft, Nicks is a prime example.
Cheers
Peter”
I believe that the ‘Thomas Frederick Duck’ nose art that Nick Carter designed for his crew’s No. 75 (NZ) Squadron Vickers Wellington was later removed from that aircraft after another bomber crashed into it, and was later pasted onto the crew’s Lancaster when they went onto a Pathfinders squadron. He then removed it and kept it, and later donated it to the RNZAF Museum, where it’s still on display.
Check out this big news spread in the same newspaper
From the (Wellington) Evening Post, Volume CVI, Issue 53, 11 September 1928, Page 10
Evening Post TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1928. UNITED BY AIR
“At 9.22 a.m. the Southern Cross made a perfect landing at Sockburn Aerodrome.” Hours ago messages in these or similar words were flashed round the world, conveying the news of the successful termination of the greatest air achievement in which New Zealand has had a share. Behind the brief announcement of success there is, however, a long story of high adventure, of strenuous and thorough preparation, and of patient perseverance. The record of the flight is inspiring and thrilling. In print one may sense much of the greatness of the achievement; but possibly the listeners who patiently waited all last night for news sensed even more, with the anxiety in the gaps of three and a half hours when no word came through, the relief on receipt of a disjointed but reassuring message, and the picture given by the laconic statement: “Very stormy. No observation or reading for two hours.” Yet even this picture of the machine battling through the storm in mid-Tasman out of touch with the land on either side and unable to make observations for navigation tells but a part of the slory. Another chapter, the first in the history of Tasman air adventure, is of the gallant but ill-fated attempt of Lieutenant Moncrieff and Captain Hood.. Their signals also ceased, but were never heard again. We shall never learn the full story of their flight; but Kingsford Smith and his companions who dared and won through have fittingly paid their tribute of honour to the courageous airmen who dared and died. They have acknowledged the performance of the pioneers who, as always in the history of human achievement, helped to prepare by their failure for the success of others. Yet another chapter in the tale of Tasman air conquest follows closely on the first. It is the account of arduous preparation and patient waiting. Crowds to-day have greeted and cheered Kingsford Smith as the intrepid pioneer. But he has another side to his character. He would not be the successful aviator if he were not first the thorough and persevering organiser. His battle with the unknown. forces of the air is applauded, but before he could begin that battle he was for months working with dogged determination to make his great Pacific flight possible. He had to convince people that what he proposed could be done; he had to secure a machine suitable for the endeavour, and he had to test each link in his chain to give the greatest assurance that it would hold. The chain held in the Pacific flight in three great transocean stages aggregating 7591 miles. But even then he did not immediately set out to conquer the Tasman. He began another period of careful preparation, testing his machine anew, studying the weather and the flying conditions. Not till he had again assured himself of the safety of his chain did he embark upon his second great ocean passage. Though it may be prose and dull reading beside the epic of the actual flight, the patient preparing is not the least important part of the story. Smith and his companions are courageous but they are also thorough. Thus have the first chapters in the history of Tasman flight been written. No one can say what further records will be placed on the pages; but this much may be predicted— that the adventure of to-day will be succeeded by commercial accomplishments of far-reaching national moment. “The sea unites; it does not divide” has long been a truism in the British Empire. Now the most distant part of Empire has been linked by air also. Especially are we linked more closely with our Australian neighbours. We are united with the Commonwealth by air. As j Australia is drawn closer to the rest of the Empire, so shall we come in, now that the last gap has been bridged. Our separation in point of time has been reduced from three or four days to fourteen hours twelve minutes —only the lime distance of Wellington from Auckland. Who j will doubt that such closer contact must bring us into more intimate association and agreement in shaping our national courses? It is gratifying to know that the three Australians who organised and led this flight had as a companion and co-pioneer a young New Zealander. The generosity of Australia in thus sharing with us the honour of the achievement must make us the more ready to extend to the Commonwealth the palm which her sons have won. The greatest praise is due to the Australians; but New Zealand is proud to have had a small part in this history making flight.
Why not? It’s the most famous aeroplane in the world, and so must be a drawcard to any museum wherever it is. Especially in a country that doesn’t have dozens of them flying and in museums.
That Spitfire used to belong to the Subritzky family here in New Zealand but in previous lives was with the USAF Museum and the very early BBMF.
Interesting topic. Did set designers and props people have to make elongated versions of lots of other things too so they didn’t look distorted in Panavision back in those days?
As this thread is loosely on the topic of the race to achieve Mach 1, some of you folk here will probably enjoy this recent podcast from my Wings Over New Zealand Show series:
Noel Kruse – The Race For Mach 1
http://www.cambridgeairforce.org.nz/WONZ_Show_Two.html#Noel_Kruse_RNZAC
But was it a British project they were talking about? I’m trying to pinpoint what it was that Pat might have worked on.
Yep, Wiki cites London as the source.
From Wikipedia’s Saunders-Roe Princess page:
“In 1958 information on the Princess was passed to the United States Navy who were looking at the possibility of converting the three stored aircraft to use nuclear power,[14] with a team from Saro visiting the US to discuss selling the Princesses. However, the plans came to nothing”
Hmm, maybe it was the Saunders Roe aircraft he worked on then, although I have no memory of him mentioning to me about working for them. Was Miles involved with Saunders Roe?
Apparently the project he was working on got the kibosh put on it because the Government decided it should not fly due to the risk of it crashing in a populated area.
Richard also said Pat reckoned he’d handled some sort of radioactive material personally, and had no ill effects from it.
I really wish Pat was still around, I’d love to talk to him about so much for his long career in aircraft design. he was a really fascinating man.
Marvellous photos! Keep them coming please.
Haha, well said!
Thanks for the replies. I was not aware of the big window. I have met and interviewed three veterans who flew the Barracuda but they were all pilots and none of them mentioned the window in he bottom.
I had always been under the impression that the Barracuda was considered by the crews as an unsafe, useless and much hated aircraft till I talked with the pilots who flew them. But I was surprised to find that two of the three pilots thought they were fine to fly and quite liked them. The third said they were unsafe, dangerous machines that were killing far too many crews. He was instructing on them at an OTU. He took things into his own hands in the end by grounding all the Barracudas in his school but to his surprise the word spread and within day they had grounded them across the whole Navy, and he said of all the things he’d done in the war (he’d flown with No. 823 Squadron in the desert war – the squadron that invented the Pathfinder target marking technique, etc) this was his proudest moment because he knew he was saving lives. So it’s interesting how there is a sharp division in opinions about the Cuda.