How to Write-Off an Entire Air Force - 1

In late 1973, on a grey and bitter morning when no flying was possible, I was catching up on my “admin” by reading the various order books that governed my duties as a Flying Examiner at the Central Flying School (CFS), at that time based at Royal Air Force Little Rissington in Gloucestershire.  In winter, Rissington often suffered from the disadvantage of being some 600 feet nearer the clouds than other airfields, hence my leisurely activity, ensconced in an armchair in a warm coffee bar with only itinerant colleagues to disturb me.  There I was, a tender 28-year old bachelor, rank of Flight Lieutenant, a Grade A1 (the very best) flying instructor and examiner, a Master Green Command Instrument Rating Examiner, with promotion examinations safely behind me and, hopefully, a full career ahead. I was, in vernacular, a “Trapper.”  Our role on Examining Wing was to verify and safeguard pure flying standards throughout the Royal Air Force.  More specifically, we examined all flying instructors periodically to assess their competence and graded them accordingly.  We flew with the instructors’ students to check how well they had been taught.  A “Trappers” visit to a flying training school, say somewhere in the Vale of York or Lincolnshire was a very big deal indeed and careers depended upon it going well. But our commission was not confined to the RAF, many of our customers were foreign and Commonwealth Air Forces who copied our CFS system.  The likes of Hong Kong, Singapore, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Thailand, and Malaysia would regularly invite a CFS visit to assess their flying standards and, hopefully, give their governance a clean bill of health.  This meant that I flew a large number of different types and marks of aircraft.  Additional to the Jet Provost Mks 3,4 and 5, Chipmunks and Bulldogs operated by the RAF Training Command, my Log Book shows that I was certified as qualified on numerous other types operated by foreign Air Forces. We were responsible for the standards of the Flying Scholarship Scheme which meant certifying the competence of civilian instructors on various light aircraft to look after Air Training Corps Cadets who had been good enough to win one of the coveted Scholarship awards. One of the perks of this scheme was that we could sign out a flying club aircraft for our own practice so, naturally, we made sure we exploited the entire inventory (one club held a Zlin 2-seat aerobatic aircraft which, of course, required frequent inspection).   We operated in numbers appropriate for the task.  For example, a flying training school visit would command the attention of the whole squadron of examiners whilst smaller units or one-off examinations would be scaled appropriately.  This meant that each of us, once the “Special Flying Qualifications” section of the Log Book had been endorsed, “A1 Examiner,” would be expected to operate either as a team or autonomously on behalf of the Commandant, Central Flying School.  We always stayed in hotels or boarding houses, never in the respective Mess alongside out examinees (in case we were got at). This was quite a responsibility, especially for a 28-year old Flight Lieutenant.  The selection procedure for this exalted position was not vey scientific – one would have been talent-spotted earlier, quietly assessed and invited to join.  Needless to say, personality was important and the tie-break question for one’s future colleagues was simply, “could you spend a wet weekend in Sleaford (near RAF Cranwell) with this chap as a fellow examiner?”

So, there I was, surrounded by cloud and drizzle reading “The Flying Order Book.” I had got to the section of formation flying – the art of controlling one’s aircraft in such a way that it is kept in a constant position relative to another aircraft.  I cannot remember exactly what the order said but, in summary, I was allowed to authorise formations of up to 4 aircraft except mixed formations.  One of the disadvantages of being only 28 was that you had not yet experienced all the traps and pitfalls of aviation and you had to rely on the wisdom of others, often hard-won, for guidance on how to avoid them.  It was said in the film “Reach for The Sky,” very pompously, that “rules are made for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men.”  I didn’t agree with that attitude at the time, being a very precise and fairly cautious pilot by nature but I did wonder why, with all the other delegated responsibilities and powers granted to me, I was not allowed to authorise a “mixed formation.”

I would find out elsewhere but this, for now, was where Examining Wing lived at Little Rissington: