Like many youngsters who grew up in the twixt-wars period of the 1920's and 30's, I guess I was fascinated by tales of the aerial dog-fighting of World War I . . . each week I eagerly awaited the arrival of my 'Modern Boy' comic book to see what new and intrepid adventure Biggles had survived.   The receipt of a copy of 'Modern Boys Book of Aeroplanes' one Christmas in the early 30's was the ultimate present.   In there was to be found the roots of my lifetime career . . . firstly as an RAF 'Brat' and later as an aircraft designer and builder.

It was in that book . . . so heavily thumbed . . . that I first read of 'Halton Brats' and 'Cranwell Cadets' . . . the seeds were sown !

Strangely . . . the typical 'paper aeroplanes' flung into the air to loop, glide . . . or crash uncontrollably . . . were not my first projects.   Rather, a semi-scale model of the RAF's newest biplane bomber - the 'Boulton-Paul Overstrand' - was laboriously scaled from cutaway diagrams in the 'new bible' and fabricated from construction paper and glue.    Other tales in there of Clem Sohn, the American Birdman . . . and diagrams of Otto Lillienthals' early hang-glider experiments in the days before the Wright Brothers ... all stirred up dreams of personal flying.

Bolton-Paul Overstrand Bomber

It was about that time that Grandma complained to Grandad that almost every umbrella she picked up from the hallstand to use, had broken ribs !    Subsequent 'discussions' in the woodshed led to visits to the Kensington Science Museum in London . . . there much sketching and note-taking of details of early Lillienthal gliders and the Wright Flyer led to the manufacture of our first real plane . . . a combination of bamboo, spruce laths and muslin bedsheets produced a scaled-down Lillienthal !   Using the hay elevator on the farm, Grandad would haul me and this flimsy contraption to the roof of the Dutch barn.    Then with a few quick steps down the curving roof I would leap into space . . . to land in the hay piles thoughtfully pre-strewn below in the barnyard.    Over time the 'flights' evolved from vertical to oblique as the concepts of flight sank in !

     

On a clear day . . . a comparative rarity in England in the days before coal fires in every room of the house became a social no-no, not to mention the ever-present rain . . . one could stand at my back bedroom window in mid-Bedfordshire, and make out the roofs of the giant airship sheds, and the soaring mooring mast at RAF Cardington.

These were the days when Great Britain was trying to produce commercial airships that could compete with those offshoots of the WW.1 German industry . . . now represented by the 'Graf Zeppelin' and the slightly later 'Hindenburg'.    Such examples as the German vessels, the British R.100 and the ill-fated R.101 could be seen overhead on a fairly regular basis.   One of my fathers' uncles lost his life in the crash of either the R.38 or the R.101 . . . never been quite sure which.    Following the R.101 disaster, the R.100 was deflated, with the structure and envelope hangared at Cardington and finally scrapped in 1932.

       

Later . . . the hydrogen production facilities at Cardington were utilised for the RAF barrage balloon operations . . . convoys of special gas cylinder-carrying trucks were a daily sight through the village during the early war years.

     

During the 30's the new Barton aerodrome had been established locally at the foot of Moleskin Hill, out beyond Joe Evans' Clayhill Farm.   A not overly smooth grass field !   There could be found a couple of surplus WW.1 blister hangars and miscellaneous DH Moths, Blackburns and similar biplane trainers.

In those days, aircraft reliability . . . and pilot navigation . . . was not of the highest order !   Hence it was not uncommon for planes from Barton to make forced landings on almost every farm for miles around.   A great opportunity for a young lad to get to know most of the instructors and pilots !    Visits to the aerodrome . . . just a short bike ride across Sampshill and past the old Harlington brickworks along the old bridle trails . . . became more common !    Constantly chatting-up the pilots and mechanics . . . helping as a 'gofer' and with hangar cleaning chores . . . all produced the desired results.   An occasional flight in a Moth or B.2 for a small fair-haired boy, sitting on several cushion pads . . . even spots of rudimentary 'stick-time' !

     

In the Autumn of 1934, Dad . . . now beginning to recognise my fascination with flying . . . and I rode our bikes over to Mildenhall to see the start of the London-Melbourne air race.    I was totally fascinated by the sight of the then totally strange streamlined look of the new DH Comets, one of which, with Messr's Scott and Campbell-Black as pilots, won the race.    My favourite was 'Black Magic', another Comet flown by Jim and Amy Mollison, which however suffered engine problems on the way and failed to finish. This plane has now been 're-discovered' in Portugal, returned to the UK and is currently undergoing restoration.

In 1936, I believe it was, the Barton airfield was used to locate one of the turning pylons for the Kings' Cup Air Races that year.    Along with several other lads from the village, I sat on the north slopes of Sharpenhoe Clappers looking down on the speeding planes as they swooped around that pylon on their way to the next leg of the race.    Little did I know then that some 17-18 years later I would have the good fortune to sample the controls of one of them . . . Percival MewGull, G-AEXF, Alex Henshaws' 1938 race winner . . . when I was working at Percivals after leaving the RAF.

     

The following year, Dad and I rode over to RAF Henlow for their big 'Open Day' and flying display.   For the first time I got to sit in a real RAF plane . . . the brand-new Hawker Hurricane . . . there was just one present !    Again, the look of that sweet innocent fair-haired boy . . . must have melted the heart of the RAF display pilot from 111 Squadron in attendance - lol !    Some great 'action' flying displays for the event including an attack on the aerodrome by a flight of heavy bombers . . . seem to recall they were old 'Handley-Page Heyfords' . . . the 'Flying Dustbin' as they were then known.    The drome was defended by a flight of Hawker biplane fighters . . . probably 'Furies'.

     

Another high point of our visit to Henlow that day was spending best part of ten minutes in that new-fangled gadget . . . the Link Trainer.   I soon found out that my blind-flying skills were no match for the outside operators' tricks . . . result . . . terminal spins !

By the late 30's Dad was getting more and more interested in the topic of flying.    The famous/infamous 'Pou de Ciel' / 'Flying Flea' ultralight aircraft craze was then at its' zenith.    We acquired the 'Practical Mechanics' plans and started gathering materials to build, including one of the 'new' Scott Flying Squirrel converted 600cc motor-cycle engines.

             

      

It was in this time span that a major fire occurred at Dad's place of business . . . the SKF Bearing factory in Luton !   Being essentially 'out of work' while the factory was being re-built, and with an avocation of fine cabinet making, he found he could use my prior Barton aerodrome contacts to help out part-time on the construction there of the 'Luton Minor' ultralight aircraft.    This was a design by Cecil Latimer-Needham, an ex-RAF pilot, who founded the Luton Aircraft Co. at Barton in the mid 30's.    He wanted a design that would compete with, yet be more practical than the 'Flea' which was beginning to exhibit certain major aerodynamic deficiencies causing numerous crashes in the hands of inexperienced pilots.

In this he was eminently successful . . . several were built pre-war . . . following WW.2 the design became the basis for the start-up of the Ultra-Light aircraft movement in England.    A re-design to beef up the overall structure to accommodate more powerful engines took place around 1960.

Alas . . . these halcyon days of 'wood, fabric and wire' were about to come to the proverbial screeching halt !    The clouds of impending war descended on the scene . . . first in 1938, with the so-called 'Munich crisis' and Chamberlains' dramatic appeasement talks with a certain ReichsFuhrer.   This bought our military services, and particularly the RAF, a year of time in which to further prepare to meet the onslaught of 1939~40.    Together with the tiny BEF of the peacetime British Army, the RAF sent four squadrons of the relatively new Hurricane fighters to France.    Among these was #73F . . . a Squadron that I was later to serve with in the Middle East in the post-WW.2 period.

As a Boy Scout I served as a bicycle messenger for the ARP service in the Luton area.   Occasionally my travels took me to the old Luton Flying Club, which was now serving as a 'satellite home' to one of the RAF's 'Defiant' night fighter squadrons.   An interesting plane but 'the sting in its' tail' was soon discovered and ignored by opposing Luftwaffe pilots.

About the second or third year of the war I became old enough to join the Air Training Corps . . . my Physics teacher at Luton Modern School was the C.O. of the newly formed #1979 Squadron.   Details of this period follow in the next Section.