How the CO gave me earache!
By Richard Smith, ex-111 Sqn
It was 1967/68 and a normal start to the day on 111 Sqn. I had carried out my first task, which was to tow out the serviceable aircraft ready for the day’s flights. It wasn’t long before the Squadron CO appeared at the flight hut to ask where Smith was. Although Squadron Leader George Black was the CO for most of the my time with 111 Squadron, the CO then was Wing Commander Hall.
Wondering what I might have done wrong, I approached him gingerly. ‘You have to get suited up, you are coming up with me in one hour.’ The only reason I think I was chosen is because I used to put in a lot of extra work towing out and putting away the aircraft.
Walking out to the aircraft, I began to understand how the astronauts felt as they made their way to the launchpad. As my fellow armourer strapped me in, the pilot commented that as an armament fitter I was obviously aware of the working of the Martin-Baker ejection seat. ‘In the event of an emergency I will say “EJECT, EJECT”. On my second command do not say “Pardon” - you will be talking to yourself.’ End of safety briefing!
He also asked if I wanted vertical or normal take-off. As someone who never went on fairground rides, I pleaded for everything to be as normal as possible, but out of the corner of my eye I could see the ground crew making vertical gestures with their hands.
The moment came, and we’re tearing down the runway with full reheat. The next thing I remember was looking up at my feet and trying to remember to breathe. As the aircraft rolled under then over, my strangled scream was followed by some tut-tutting from the pilot. He informed me that the CO of 56 Squadron was up here and we were going to carry out a mock attack on him.
After a few minutes, a cry of ‘Got the B*****d. We can now carry on with our flight plan. I suppose you want to join the Ten Ton Club?’ ‘Yes please, sir’ I replied excitedly. It didn’t take long before he said ‘There we are, 1100 mph. You really are a lucky so and so, there’s a Victor tanker in the area so we are going to hook up and take on some fuel.’
Way above us I could see the gleaming aircraft and we climbed slowly until we were right behind him. The basket was just in front of us, but it was moving around like a flag in the wind. After a few aborted attempts there was a sudden clunk - we were in. ‘Fuel flowing’ came the call. I was then warned ‘When we disengage there will be a slight nose down - don’t worry.’
On disconnect came my second scream, again followed by the tut tut. Nose down meant nose down. ‘OK, Smithy, we’re going home’ came the call. I could see all of East Anglia from the Wash to Colchester. As we rapidly descended, the pain in my ears became unbearable, causing the pilot to radio that he had ear problems in the cockpit and would be descending slower.
Finally, we hit the runway and the brake parachute deployed. We taxied back to our bay, to be greeted by my mates wanting every detail of the flight, but that had to wait until I was taken to the MO for treatment to the ears. For several years I suffered severe pain when flying, but was it worth it? YOU BET IT WAS!