attitude to flying. There was also a Flt.Lt. Knight who I flew with from time to time. He didn't have regular students, instead he seemed to fly with almost all of us at random. He was not liked for his habit of nearly always grabbing the controls during the final stages of approach and landing. Because of this he soon became known among us as 'Windy' Knight.
Progress checks were, of course, conducted by more senior instructors, usually Flight and Squadron Commanders. These were unnerving experiences, particularly in view of my recent encounters with Mr Hall at Desford. My 30 hour progress check on October 7th was carried out by our Squadron Commander, Sqn.Ldr. Irish, who had a reputation for having a 'downer' on National Service pilots. 45 minutes grilling in the air was as daunting in prospect as it was in reality. I considered myself fortunate to pass.
Most RAF airfields in the 1950s had at least one Open Day each year. Wellesbourne Mountford was no exception. We student pilots were, of course, detailed off to help with various activities. Those on the senior course, which we were not, took part in fly-pasts, while our instructors laid on the more humorous part of the aerial entertainment. The junior course - that was us - were given ground tasks to supervise along with other members of the permanent staff. My job was to liaise with the local riding school who were giving 'Equestrian Experience' (as the RAF put it) to the youngsters of the visiting public. This involved my supervising the layout of a suitably convenient walking track for the horses on a patch of grass which was nurtured and held dear by the Station Warrant Officer, Mr Williams, outside of whose office window it was located. Water had to be fetched for the horses, and their droppings disposed of under a nearby laurel thicket.4 Fortunately for me I was relieved of these duties just in time to see the 'How to deal with unruly tribes' part of the display. This involved flour-bombing a group of suitably attired 'rebels' who had invaded the runway. Their incursion had been accompanied by much use of thunderflashes and smoke grenades.5 The Station Flight Tiger Moth was duly scrambled to deal with the white-robed insurgents and landed alongside them, at which point an insurgent climbed into the rear cockpit before the pilot could take off, and so followed a sequence of crazy flying during which an 'armoured' car also went into action. It, too, was hijacked. The Tiger Moth landed nearby to go to its rescue and, after much cavorting on the ground its hijacker was evicted. The Tiger Moth then took off again, trailing coloured smoke, to chase the hijacked car which promptly dashed for cover into a hangar, leaving the aircraft to land quietly at the end of the sequence.
The same Tiger Moth was occasionally scrambled to deal with incursions of deer on to the airfield from the adjacent Charlecote estate.6 The system used was to stop all flying activity when the deer arrived except for the Tiger Moth taking off from a remote corner of the airfield away from the animals. Then followed a sequence of diving at the herd to steer it back to the break in the fence, accompanied if necessary by the firing of Verey lights to hurry them along. I was to witness this performance several times during the six months I was stationed there.
There was a Station Sports Day in which all personnel and all ranks were expected to take part. I was entered in a boxing competition and matched against my Flight Commander, Flt.Lt. Howorth, a thick-set, muscular, ex-lorry driver. Fortunately for me the match was cancelled. He would have floored me at the first punch. There was an amusing side to the Sports Day notices. There were a series of events titled Intercourse Championships. On a mixed camp - Wow!
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4 Said laurel thicket, as it turned out, had been the secret snogging ground (along with another nearby) of Airmen and Airwomen who had used it as a location for close intimate contact.
5 Thunderflashes = A form of pyrotechnic having an extremely loud bang.
6 Nowadays owned by the National Trust.
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