right.â
Though it was an achievement, a landmark in my life, my first solo was a bit of an anticlimax for I felt no great anxiety when I was left on my own. I just flew the Tiger Moth as I had been taught to do, and the aircraft responded as expected. The great joy came to me in the solo flights that followed later, and I was delighted to be up in the sky alone.
Shortly after that we began aerobatics, and I quickly learned that the Tiger is a most difficult aircraft in which to perform a good slow roll. It was not easy to stop the nose straying to the left or right of its initial position and to keep exactly the same height. All aerobatics are wisely preceded by 360-degree steep turns to ensure that the area is free of other aircraft. On my first attempt to do solo aerobatics, I remained inverted during one of the maneuvers for too long. My engine cut and I was hard put to get it restarted again. Fortunately, I succeeded. In general, aerobatics, which included loops, slow rolls, and the much-easier barrel rolls, stall turns, and rolls off the top, were a great pleasure. Aerobatics teaches you how to maintain complete command of your craft in any attitude and gives confidence in your ability to handle the airplane.
MISCHIEF IN THE AIR
After a hundred hours of advanced flying instruction, I had my first night flight. At night, the air is usually smooth. Tobe up on your own, high above the lights on the ground, gives a feeling of being divorced from the earth and your environment while you are suspended in an immense black vault with no beginning and no end. The muted glow of the instrument panel lends a quietness and intimacy to the mood in the cockpit as you glance from the instruments to the world outside. All sounds sound different at night, more muted, and even voices were more subdued. I always felt more at one with my aircraft at night than during the day. The conclusion to a night flight invariably gave me a sense of achievement, and the gooseneck paraffin flares on the side of the runway lent an unusually dramatic atmosphere to our familiar environment.
The Harvard (AT-6) trainers we graduated to were much superior to the Tiger Moths in elementary flying school, and this was the reason I was nearly washed out of the course. Shortly before the great day of the wings parade, we had to make a long solo, triangular cross-country flight. During the flight, I spotted a yellow Tiger Moth flying on a course well below me across my track. Only one of the cockpits was occupied, and assuming that it was a junior pupil on a cross-country flight from the elementary flying school, I could not resist buzzing him repeatedly, thinking that I was showing the sprog some ace flying. I was a little surprised that he did not seem fazed by the mock attacks I made on him, merely continuing to fly a straight and level course. I saw his head in the open cockpit probably giving me a baleful look as I dived down on him at high speed from above. After attending funerals at flying school, I have come to the conclusion that the most dangerous period inoneâs flying career is after solo and completing a number of hours at flying school. That is when you are convinced that you are probably the hottest pilot around.
About a week later, I was called into the base commanderâs office and was told that I had been seen dangerously buzzing a Tiger Moth flown by no less than a colonel who was the aide-de-camp to Prime Minister General Smuts. He had made a note of the number of my aircraft and reported me. A court martial followed, ending in a sentence of ten days detention. I remember standing at attention facing the judge in my short pants and struggling to keep my knees from knocking together. I spent the time in a cell in a military police post. One memory that I have of that confinement was that the door to my cell had no handle on the inside making me feel completely cut off from the world outside. It occurred to me that it would be very
Though it was an achievement, a landmark in my life, my first solo was a bit of an anticlimax for I felt no great anxiety when I was left on my own. I just flew the Tiger Moth as I had been taught to do, and the aircraft responded as expected. The great joy came to me in the solo flights that followed later, and I was delighted to be up in the sky alone.
Shortly after that we began aerobatics, and I quickly learned that the Tiger is a most difficult aircraft in which to perform a good slow roll. It was not easy to stop the nose straying to the left or right of its initial position and to keep exactly the same height. All aerobatics are wisely preceded by 360-degree steep turns to ensure that the area is free of other aircraft. On my first attempt to do solo aerobatics, I remained inverted during one of the maneuvers for too long. My engine cut and I was hard put to get it restarted again. Fortunately, I succeeded. In general, aerobatics, which included loops, slow rolls, and the much-easier barrel rolls, stall turns, and rolls off the top, were a great pleasure. Aerobatics teaches you how to maintain complete command of your craft in any attitude and gives confidence in your ability to handle the airplane.
MISCHIEF IN THE AIR
After a hundred hours of advanced flying instruction, I had my first night flight. At night, the air is usually smooth. Tobe up on your own, high above the lights on the ground, gives a feeling of being divorced from the earth and your environment while you are suspended in an immense black vault with no beginning and no end. The muted glow of the instrument panel lends a quietness and intimacy to the mood in the cockpit as you glance from the instruments to the world outside. All sounds sound different at night, more muted, and even voices were more subdued. I always felt more at one with my aircraft at night than during the day. The conclusion to a night flight invariably gave me a sense of achievement, and the gooseneck paraffin flares on the side of the runway lent an unusually dramatic atmosphere to our familiar environment.
The Harvard (AT-6) trainers we graduated to were much superior to the Tiger Moths in elementary flying school, and this was the reason I was nearly washed out of the course. Shortly before the great day of the wings parade, we had to make a long solo, triangular cross-country flight. During the flight, I spotted a yellow Tiger Moth flying on a course well below me across my track. Only one of the cockpits was occupied, and assuming that it was a junior pupil on a cross-country flight from the elementary flying school, I could not resist buzzing him repeatedly, thinking that I was showing the sprog some ace flying. I was a little surprised that he did not seem fazed by the mock attacks I made on him, merely continuing to fly a straight and level course. I saw his head in the open cockpit probably giving me a baleful look as I dived down on him at high speed from above. After attending funerals at flying school, I have come to the conclusion that the most dangerous period inoneâs flying career is after solo and completing a number of hours at flying school. That is when you are convinced that you are probably the hottest pilot around.
About a week later, I was called into the base commanderâs office and was told that I had been seen dangerously buzzing a Tiger Moth flown by no less than a colonel who was the aide-de-camp to Prime Minister General Smuts. He had made a note of the number of my aircraft and reported me. A court martial followed, ending in a sentence of ten days detention. I remember standing at attention facing the judge in my short pants and struggling to keep my knees from knocking together. I spent the time in a cell in a military police post. One memory that I have of that confinement was that the door to my cell had no handle on the inside making me feel completely cut off from the world outside. It occurred to me that it would be very
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