Contents Page 1
RAF Harrier memories and photos
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RAF Halton memories and photos
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The early years
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Avro Vulcan experience
RAF Harrier memories and photos This ‘book’ comprises of some memories and photographs of the Harrier aircraft I worked on as an engineer; how it all began as an apprentice at RAF Halton; and 'the early years', before that. Watching the Vulcan on one of its last flights in 2015 encouraged me to jot down some memories – but they do not sit easily within this book – generally Harrier memories were good, and Vulcan memories were . . . . different! Anyway, they are here now, but first ‘my’ Harrier story. In the beginning:I joined No 1(F) Sqn in 1969, straight from a 3 year apprenticeship at RAF Halton. The celebration of 40 years of Harrier service in 2009 and the scrapping of the Harrier force in 2011 prodded me enough to ‘do something’ with my colour slide ‘collection’, hence a website and eventually this book. Embarrassingly, I have relatively few photographs of the aircraft I worked on as an engineer. I have ‘holiday snaps’ of the detachment to Cyprus, the many trips to Sardinia, and the year or so I spent in Belize – but few pictures of the aircraft and their ‘habitat’. Frustrating or what! Anyway, for what it is worth here are the pictures and some words:-
A few pictures taken at the 1971 Paris Air Show:- The Harrier display was four aircraft doing various manoeuvres in the hover. One of our aircraft suffered from a loss of power, and subsequent heavy landing (breaking one of the outrigger landing legs) on one of the practice days. It was patched up and flown home with the gear locked down. The Casa Aerocar suffered rather more damage, again before the public open days. Both Concorde and the Tu144 (in the picture opposite) were on display, the Russian aircraft seemingly much less agile than Concorde.
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Casa Aerocar In August 1971 USAF Capt Lou Distelzweg tragically died when everything that could go wrong did. During take-off the engine nozzles stuck pointing half way down, preventing normal acceleration to fully wing-borne flight. After declaring an emergency he turned towards a shorter runway in order to try landing. On approach the nozzles unstuck and moved fully down, it is suspected that 2
the nozzle lever in the cockpit must have been left in that position during the take-off. With forward speed decreasing, and still carrying too much fuel for a vertical landing Lou pressed the ‘clear aircraft bar’ to jettison the external fuel tanks – one failed to drop, giving an asymmetric weight distribution – control of the aircraft was lost. Lou tried to eject – but had forgotten to take out the seat safety pins – he had managed to get the one out of the seat handle, but the rocket pack pin was still in. The seat left the aircraft, but did not get high enough for the parachute to open. He was a real nice guy and sadly missed. Eventually the nozzle problem was tracked down to an Air Motor Servo Unit (AMSU) fault. The AMSU used high pressure air from the engine to drive a motor, which through various gearboxes and chain drives moved the four engine thrust nozzles. The ‘used’ air discharged from the AMSU via four small filters. It was found that the force of the air through the filters could cause them to spin, the spinning filters shed fine metal particles, which, somehow got into the motor causing it to jam. The solution was simple – bond the filters to the AMSU casing, but we lost Lou to get there. The early Harriers were unreliable, and it was very hard work to keep them serviceable. The electrical system, for instance, consisted of two 4kVA generators, driven from the main gearbox via two-speed gear boxes. Each generator fed separate DC systems. There were separate sensors for over/under frequency and over/under voltage. The power spike as the two speed boxes change ratio was sometimes enough to trip an AC warning, with its associated DC warning. One system failing would often trip the other system (etc). Most days in 1969/70 saw aircraft returning with some sort of electrical failure. The complex nature of the system usually made it impossible to replicate the fault on the ground. The INAS (Integrated Navigation and Attack System) system was also unreliable, so much so that quite a few aircraft were modified (Mod 9) and just had basic flying instruments, such as a gyro compass and a turn and slip indicator instead. The engines were not much better, with fan blades failing, punching holes through the internal fuel tanks of two of the aircraft during ground testing, for instance. After a couple of years at RAF Wittering with No 1(F) Sqn it was off to RAF Wildenrath with No 20 Sqn. By now the aircraft was somewhat more reliable, it still had the two generators and the twospeed gearboxes, but the Type 58 AC control boxes and their TRU’s (transformer rectifier units) made for a much more robust electrical supply system. Re-designed fan blades had made the engines more reliable too, but the early ‘70’s was not a good time for the Harrier fleet. At least nine Harrier aircraft crashed in 1972, and seven in 1973. Chris Humphrey was killed, ejecting from his aircraft whilst flying in appalling weather conditions in January 1972. He was attempting to fly a demonstration flight for visiting Swiss officials – what a waste. Peter Williams flew into the ground while we were on tactical deployment. He may have blacked out before the crash, but it was thought at the time he may have inverted his aircraft in order to get a good radio signal – the VHF radio did not work well at low level! There were mechanical problems, mainly due to engine faults as well. Engines that had been modified to correct a turbine problem were returned with sub-standard bolts fitted in the HP compressor. These bolts either worked loose or broke causing catastrophic engine failure. It was a difficult time for both the aircrew and the ground-crew, and was reflected in our shoulder badge.
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Deployment to ‘a muddy field somewhere in Germany’ was a regular pass-time, with exercises to parts of the vast Army training grounds several times a year. We also went to other muddy fields in Norway or Denmark for instance, but mostly in Germany.
Two camouflaged Harriers at Osterholts.
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Three more Harriers at Osterholts. The dispersed sites were very difficult for 'attacking aircraft' to find.
Runways (grass strips) were 'tight on space' for most sites, getting off the ground at Osterholts before the road was a 'bit of a challenge'. Hitting the road at near take-off speed was rather bumpy, and best avoided. 5
Another dispersal site, this time at Geseke. The buildings were used for target practice by the army. Some of the windows had pop-up targets for small arms practice. They provided good cover for our aircraft too.
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Most landings at the dispersal sites were vertical. The pad here at Geseke is in the wheat field. The pads and many of the taxi ways were laid by Army engineers before we arrived on the dispersal sites.
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A photo taken of me for the local paper(s) to use. This copy has been sitting on my mother’s fire surround for a few years and my sister scanned it (dust an’ all, sorry about that – just can’t get the staff these days!). I can remember some of the details:- 20 Sqn, on deployment somewhere in Germany. This aircraft had arrived on the deployment site with a problem:- in the hover it tended to yaw. I was given the problem to sort out, and eventually found that the angle of one of the front nozzles was slightly ‘out’ from the other 3 nozzles. The nozzles were chain driven – apparently the drive chains had been changed during a recent ‘minor’ servicing and were not adjusted correctly. The side panel was off to gain access to the chain adjusters, I was using the chinagraph pencil (in my hand) to write down the nozzle angles (measured using a hand held clinometer placed on the nozzle vanes). Anyway, an unusual problem to solve, and caught in the act by the photographer. All the Harrier squadrons went to Decimomannu in Sardinia for weapons firing, usually for 4-6 weeks every year. Other units went there as well, and we often shared the range with Buccaneers or Phantoms. The ‘wall’ at Deci' was on one of the dispersal sites, and over the years collected squadron badges, carved into its surface and painted by bored ground staff, with a talent wasted in the Airforce!
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A bombing run on the range in Sardinia. The 4lb practice bombs were used to practice dropping 1000lb retard bombs.
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The wall – 1976
After 2½ years in Germany it was back to RAF Wittering and No 1(F) Sqn. Not a muddy field this time, a detachment to Tromsø in Norway (1977). It was winter, it was cold, and we were under canvas. We didn’t fly much!
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Also in 1977 we went on a squadron exchange visit to Dijon. On landing, the T2 was found to have a cracked ventral fin attachment bracket – so stayed on the ground for the duration of the visit. Our French hosts thought it would look good with a new paint job. We got permission to fly the aircraft home without the ventral fin. Our first job when we got back to Wittering was to try and get the paint off.
My one ride in the back of the T2 was a trip down to an Italian Airforce base near Venice in 1978. The T2 and a single seat aircraft were in-flight refuelled by Victor tanker on the outbound trip. Flt Lt Chris Gowers piloted the single seat aircraft, ‘my’ pilot was Sqn Ldr Peter Day. During the after flight servicing I noticed an oil leak from the IDG (integrated drive generator) on the single seat aircraft. By this time the two 4kva generators had been replaced by a single 12kva fluid drive gearbox/generator, which was usually very reliable. Anyway the generator hadn’t failed, but was about to do so! My job was to take the serviceable IDG off the T2, and fit it to the single seat aircraft. Peter Day then flew the single seat back to Wittering. Chris and I had to sort out getting a replacement generator. This was not easy – the Italian customs service was particularly awkward, and we ended up taking the duff generator to the civilian airport near Venice in a RAF holdall, by bus and train. We then had to lug the replacement part back to the Airforce base. What a faff. Anyway, we did get a few days ‘free time’ waiting for the spare part, and we did get time to have a good look around Venice. The trip home was less glamorous. Chris and I had to make a short hop to another base in Italy to charge the liquid oxygen system, and then had to refuel at Dijon – an interesting experience!
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A view looking forward from the back seat in the T2, with the head up display image.
Working on the Harrier was – hard work – with lots of time in muddy fields – but it was very enjoyable – for the most part! I was posted to No 9 Sqn, RAF Waddington to work on the Vulcan in 1979, and ended up at RAF Scampton, pushing bits of paper around in Engineering Records. I ran up the white flag at that point and left the Airforce in 1981.
Er . . . that is about it! I have added chapters recollecting my time as an apprentice at RAF Halton, BH (before Halton) and the Vulcan experience.
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RAF Halton memories and photos
Blazer badge of the unit (station) badge.
'Our' badge – or at least, our wall plaque.
Going to RAF Halton, near Aylesbury Bucks, was a ‘life changing’ experience. In 1966 it was known as No1 School of Technical Training. Three types of courses were being run:-
The ‘100’ series of entries (courses), a 3 year course producing Aircraft Technicians. The ‘200’ series, a 2 year course producing Aircraft Fitters. The ‘300’ series, a 1 year course producing Aircraft Mechanics.
Aircraft fitters were single tradesmen:- Airframes, Propulsion and Electricians, for instance. Aircraft Technicians were multi-trade, and came in two ‘flavours’. ‘We’ covered Airframe, Propulsion, Electrical and Armament systems. The other breed of Aircraft Technician covered the Radar, Electronics, Radio (etc) trades.
In theory (and in practice) two Aircraft Technicians could do ‘the lot’ when it came to aircraft maintenance. The trade was ‘invented’ as aircraft systems became ever more complicated – on most aircraft the undercarriage system for instance has electrical components (solenoids, microswitches) and hydraulic components (sequence valves, jacks, relief valves). To understand, and fault-find complex systems it needed a new breed of engineer – US! Of course aircraft systems have ‘moved on’ a bit since the 1960’s, and computers now seem to get in everywhere! 19
We were recruited at the age of 16, and needed four good GSE’s (or four grade 1 CSE’s), including maths and a science. The first six weeks of training was all bull and square bashing. Lots of brass cleaning, blanco, scrubbing webbing, bed packs and boot polish. Lots of weapons drill, marching and shouting! After that shock treatment the survivors settled in to some intensive learning. The apprenticeship had two components – in the classroom we studied aerodynamics, maths, properties of materials etc, and after two years we had reached ONC standard in mechanical and electrical engineering. In the workshops we learnt how individual components and aircraft systems worked. We also had lots of practical work to do, from basic engineering skills (filing, more filing, drilling and riveting, for instance), to working on aircraft and engines in the workshop. The workshop training also took two years to complete. It wasn’t all learning, there was still quite a lot of drill, cleaning and shouting. Drill got in everywhere. Pay parade started with an inspection, assembly, and when your name was called, smartly to attention, march to the front, salute, shout ‘Sir, number, rank and name’, collect pay packet, sign for pay packet, salute, right turn, march off – etc. All for 21/- a week! Year 3 was spent working on the aircraft on the airfield. There was still some classroom work, but a lot of the time was spent fault finding and rectifying faults on real aircraft, and learning how to fill in and use the forms needed.
Some photos:-
3 Wing, with 'Pimple Point' behind.
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RAF Halton had three Wings. 3 Wing was at the bottom of a hill, the other two on higher ground. Accommodation was in barrack blocks. The Technician entries had low numbers of apprentices, 111 entry only had 33, for instance. We started out on 3 Wing and occupied two rooms on one floor of a barrack block, some of the Craft entries (fitters) had hundreds of apprentices and occupied several blocks.
The group photo, shortly after we joined up. With the help of Steve Webber I now have most of the names. At this time we numbered 34 apprentices, but May dropped out early on in the course.
Back row (left to right):- Hemstock, Mackay, Singh, Quick, Browning, Alexander, Warren, Eling, Downe, Burns, Williams, Tweddle, Whiteley. Middle row:- McMath, Goodwin, Wright, Bailey, May, Axford, Lawson, Mulholland, Griffiths, Munroe, Hall, Webber. Front row:- Wyatt, Bentley, Hargraves, Cotton, Sgt Maxwell, Fg Off Marshall, Sqn Ldr Jane, Sgt Haddon, Sheppard, Morrison, Peterkin, Simpson, Vandome.
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Apprentices in alphabetical order:surname Alexander Axford Bailey Bentley Browning Burns Cotton Downe Eling Goodwin Griffiths Hall Hargraves Hemstock Lawson Mackay May McMath Morrison Mulholland Munroe Peterkin Quick Sheppard Simpson Singh Tweddle Vandome Warren Webber Whiteley Williams Wright Wyatt
first name Chris Nigel 'Tex' (Terry) 'Dick' (David) Peter William Terry Derek Chris Chris 'Dixie' Steve Harry Bill David Ian ? John George Stuart John Ian Ken Alan Ron Amarjit Jim David Tony Steve Malcolm Peter Alan Doug
With new entries starting, and others finishing, there was quite often a need to move – we ended up on 1 Wing. Every day started with drill, inspection and assembly on the parade ground. The apprentices would then be marched off to the classrooms or workshops. We would assemble and march back to the mess halls for lunch. After lunch, it was back to the classrooms or workshops. Marching down the hill from 1 Wing, in hobnail boots, was interesting! Wednesday afternoon was sports afternoon. Pimple point was the name given to a woodland clearing on top of the hill, from which you could see quite a lot of the rest of the station. It also featured in most cross country runs. Sports were compulsory. Those good at one sport could specialise, playing football or rugby for instance. The rest of us did cross country most of the time. With PFI’s (Physical Fitness Instructors) running with the leading pack and at the rear it was quite difficult to skive off – but with practice a lot of us did. 22
Eventually I discovered archery – not many apprentices did it, no PFI’s – and therefore a lot of skiving.
Officer's Mess, from Pimple Point
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Officer's Mess
1 Wing, from Pimple Point.
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There was a rank order within the apprentices LA’s (leading apprentices), corporal and sergeant apprentices, flight sergeant and warrant officer apprentices. With each rank came responsibilities (and a pay rise). Corporal and sergeant apprentices would assemble the rest of the ranks, and march the flights around. Warrant officer apprentices were rare, and would lead the band or parade, for instance. In my third year I rose to the dizzy heights of Leading Apprentice. This meant I got a room to myself, and was in charge of a barrack room of 113 entry apprentices. My basic rule to them was ‘you don’t disturb me, I won’t bother you! A tour around my room:-
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The third year also meant going to the airfield – this was a luxury since you got to ride in a bus or coach, and didn’t have to march up/down the hill.
The airfield, from Pimple Point I loved the practical work and took to working on ‘real aeroplanes’ like a duck to water. One day two of us were presented with a Hawker Hunter and were given the task of checking/ rectifying the pitot/static system. The system senses dynamic air pressure (caused by the forward motion of the aircraft) and static air pressure (which decreases with altitude) – and through a network of pipes feeds instruments like the air-speed indicator, altimeter and rate of climb indicator. The system can be checked on the ground by pumping air into the pressure (or pitot head), or by sucking air out of one of the static pressure vents. A gauge on the hand pump can detect if there are any leaks. Of course – it leaked – a lot. Anyway, by breaking the system down and blanking parts off it is possible to track down any defects. We were chuffed to bits when we found that the pressure head itself had an internal fault – being confident there wouldn’t be any spares. Wrong – we had to put in a spares requisition, look up how to change one in the aircraft manual, and replace it. All the paperwork had to be done as if it was an operational aircraft. Over the next couple of days we tracked down leaking pipes, crossed pipes (a pitot pipe connected to the static system) and duff instruments. We eventually got the system serviceable, signed up the job, and called in the instructor to check our work – perfect! He was amazed – we were beaming!
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There were three Vulcans on the airfield, with most systems capable of working. Some aircraft had engines that could be started and run. The photos above were taken during a Families Open Day in 1969. 27
The picture of the Spitfire needs (and needed!) a bit explaining. Being an apprentice wasn’t all learning, drill and bull; it was also about sneaking off camp and down to a local pub in the evening, and a little high jinks, from time to time. I cannot remember where the Spitfire was usually parked, or where we got the tent from, but I do know that one night the Spitfire was pushed down to the airfield and we put the tent up. We then had to push the thing back to where it was supposed to be the following day. I also seem to remember one night helping to carry one of the drill instructors cars (a mini), and leaving it at the top of a flight of steps, neatly parked between two pillars. Then there was the Christmas tree we ‘borrowed’ one night, but that is another story, as they say.
Towards the end of our course we went on a skiing holiday to Austria. We travelled by rail to Folkestone, and by an overnight train from Calais to Austria. We stayed in Aurach, and travelled to the ski slopes near Kitzbühel each day.
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'Our' Hotel in Aurach
Some fellow apprentices in Austria. The writing on the slide frame names them as (left to right):Ken, Harry, Willie, John and Tex, with Al on the ground. I can remember that Ken was Ken Quick and Willie, Peter Williams. Harry was Harry Hargraves, Tex was also known as 'Bill' Bailey. Alan Shepherd is seated on the ground. After a bit of searching John's surname was Munroe! 29
Me – outside the restaurant at the top of the ski slope.
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Me, and some of the gang. Left to right:- John Munroe, Pete Williams, Tex Bailey, with Ken Quick behind, Harry Hargraves, me and Alan Shepherd behind.
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Not sure when this photograph was taken – close to passing out date at a guess.
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Another photo, probably taken on the same (sunny!) day, down on the airfield.
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Passing Out Parade – weather not good! The certificates were presented in the sports hall, with lots of proud parents in the audience, and a bunch of ex-apprentices about to be launched into the real Airforce. While I was searching for ‘something’ with names on I found the menu and programme for the passing out parade – amazing what some people will keep. They probably haven’t seen the light of day for over 40 years!
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Me – in the back garden of my parent’s house, about as smart as a sack of spuds!
After leaving RAF Halton we apprentices were dispersed to work on different aircraft. A few of us went to RAF Wittering on the Harrier, others went to work on Nimrod or Phantom aircraft.
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The early years Just how/when my interest in aircraft started is lost in the mists of time. Expeditions from my childhood family home in Seven Kings, near Ilford in Essex took two forms. By using a Red Rover ticket London Transport could get me to Heathrow Airport for 5/- (25p). Once there Queen’s Building was the place to watch flights arriving and departing. BEA was flying mostly Vanguards and Viscounts, and the Trident was then quite new. Highlights were the rare visits by Tu 114’s of Aeroflot. I can remember going to Heathrow quite often, usually with a friend or two – haven’t a clue who, of course! Within easy cycling range was Stapleford Aerodrome and North Weald, and I was cycling there on my own by the age of 13-14. More of a challenge was the cycle ride to Biggin Hill for the air shows. I have vague memories of a very wet day spent at one of the shows, and then having to cycle home in the rain – no waterproof clothing to speak of – drowned rat or what! I have two school projects – one is about the history of flight, the other about London Airport. Both have pictures cut from magazines, with the now brown Sellotape looking very much its age. So, the seeds were sown. Photographs are few and some have suffered during the passage of time, but here are some to illustrate the 'early years'.
A few photos from my school project about Heathrow Airport.
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A couple of Tridents in the Maintenance Area – according to the caption in the project.
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A photo of the control tower – being visited by a vintage car club apparently! Again, from the school project. 45
Trips to Heathrow started at Seven Kings Bus Station – to get that precious Red Rover ticket.
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Me and my passport to the rest of the world – well, anywhere within a 50 mile radius from home anyway. I got the cycle as a Christmas present, it cost £20, but I had to contribute half of its price. It started life as a single speed, straight handled machine, but I spent ages tinkering about with it and added the gears and drop handle bars. It took me to see:-
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Avro Lancaster NX 611 at Biggin Hill in 1965. The aircraft had recently landed after a 70 hour flight from Australia. I managed to get on board and remember climbing into the cockpit.
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The same aircraft, a year later, and again at Biggin Hill. The aircraft had been painted black and now had the name 'Guy Gibson' painted beneath the cockpit. The aircraft has had an interesting 'life', going on to be the gate guardian at RAF Scampton. It is now named 'Just Jane' and can be found at the Lincolnshire Aviation Heritage Centre at East Kirkby, much restored and likely to be returned to flying condition in the next few years.
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Without doubt – my favourite aircraft – a Cosmic Wind. This tiny aircraft thrilled the crowds wherever it was on display. Photograph taken at Biggin Hill. Happy days.
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Avro Vulcan experience 4th October 2015 Seeing XH 558 at the LAA (Lincolnshire Aviation Association) day at Coningsby in formation with the BBMF fighters was the last time I saw the Vulcan in flight. It had been a long journey and a fantastic achievement to have kept this aircraft in the sky for so long, well done to everyone who made it possible. Thirty six years ago I spent some time working on the ageing Vulcan fleet – some background, and tales of my time with the tin triangle:As an apprentice Aircraft Technician at RAF Halton from 1966-69 I got to know the Vulcan systems very well. Aircraft Technicians were ‘invented’ as multi-trade diagnosticians. The hydraulics were simple enough – just the undercarriage, wheel brakes and windscreen wiper fed by a single engine drive hydraulic pump. Everything else was electrical, even the bomb doors, which had a hydraulic power pack, driven by an electric motor. The electrical systems were complex, but we had them stuffed into our heads as part of our ‘education’. From 1969-1979 I was working on the Harrier, 1(f) squadron and 20 squadron mainly, with many detachments involving muddy fields somewhere in Europe. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it all enormously. It all came to an end in 1979 with a posting to 9 Squadron at RAF Waddington – what a shock to the system. The Vulcan by then was well into its twilight days, and showed it. Memories of those massive wooden boards with the various circuits printed on them (with hinged flaps to indicate what happens) came back; RAF Halton had done such a good job I could remember it all. Maintenance standards on 9 Squadron were not high. For instance, the HEIU’s (high energy ignition units) that provided the sparks to ignite the fuel when starting the engines were not very reliable. They were located behind the engine make-up pieces (a band of panels between the airframe and the engine). Changing the HEIU’s was a fiddly job, each engine had two HEIU’s. The HEIU’s were tested as part of the pre-flight checks, but it was common practice to say that if one was working on an engine that was ‘good enough’. Clearly not so, four engine flame-outs were not uncommon and restarting engines at altitude could prove to be ‘interesting’. I spent many hours changing HEIU’s to get both working on all engines! Some of the fault finding was a bit hit-and-miss. For instance, the airbrakes had three positions, in, out and mid. They were powered by an electric motor driving chains. Position of the airbrakes was governed by micro-switches on the rails that lifted/lowered the airbrakes, and there was a back-up (auxiliary) system to add to the complexity. If there was a system fault careful analysis of the symptoms could pin-point which micro switch was at fault. The micro-switches were in the bomb-bay, but behind the drum fuel tank (if fitted). Common practice was to remove the drum tank and play pot luck until the right switch was found. There was some surprise that I could change the right switch and get the tank back in without days of faffing about. The most staggering fault I came across was with the VCCP (vapour cycle cooling pack). This was effectively a refrigerator system that pumped cooled glycol around the various cans of electronic ‘stuff’ in the tail of the aircraft. The system was effective and worked well – except for the TDU (time delay unit). Basically, when the pump was switched off the glycol pressure in the system would turn the motor backwards. The TDU was there to stop the pump from being re-started for two minutes so that the pressure could dissipate. The TDU was very unreliable; it was also a pig to replace. 51
The TDU was a simple enough unit, but if faulty would prevent the VCCP from being started. I replaced lots of TDU’s, but wanted to find out why they would apparently work in the Electrical Servicing Bay, but not in the aircraft. I visited the servicing bay, and the bay that serviced the VCCP’s, with the following result. Aircraft voltage = 28v dc supplied to the VCCP. On the VCCP there was a resistor in series to the power that supplied the TDU timing circuit, resulting in the voltage operating it was actually 3.5v. The ‘test’ rig in the Electrical Servicing Bay did not include the resistor. So – every TDU they tested was effectively given a 28 volt jolt instead of the 3.5 volts it was designed for – they had been blowing up every TDU they had ever tested for the past 30 years or more. This was reported to the Engineering Officer in charge of the Electrical Bay – we decided that it was probably too late to take much action. Working on 9 Squadron was OK and fixing the various faults very satisfying. I cannot remember how long the posting lasted, but not long, there was a lot of man-power moving within the Vulcan engineers. My next posting was to RAF Scampton, working as a team leader (with a very small team!) doing the Vulcan 6 monthly inspections. Boring or what? A simple servicing, which mainly involved removing the canopy so that the ejection seats could be removed/serviced. The BIG problem came with pressure testing the cockpit after refitting the canopy. We had to position a trestle under the crew door (in case it blew open) before the test. The allowed leak rate was ‘generous’, but most aircraft leaked more than allowed – some we couldn’t even provide enough air from the compressor to get up to pressure! Then the fun started – easy to find a leaky pipe connection, usually quite easy to fix, but then the next pipe, having been disturbed started to leak – and you would then chase leaks around the nose-wheel bay. No extra time allowed for this, and the squadron wanting their aircraft back – nightmare! Wasn’t there long either as I was posted into Engineering Records at RAF Scampton. My main task was to use fatigue meter readings and other data provided by the squadrons to schedule nondestructive tests (NDT) and x-rays. It was an important job, I also had to sort out any repairs needed resulting from the tests. However, once on top of what I had to do, it usually only took an hour or so each day. So, many hours spent photocopying endless forms, or my favourite job (not) amending the hundred or so Technical Manuals (AP’s – Aircraft publications) I had on my ‘to do’ list. An interesting posting (sort of). By now ‘phase out’ of the Vulcan fleet was being planned. Most of the airframes were running out of fatigue life. The sudden axing of the Civilian Work Party modifying the fleet to extend fatigue life meant that the two aircraft (XM 570 and XH 538, if I remember rightly) which, if modified would have the most fatigue life, were the first to be scrapped. Some things from my Eng. Records time – we were constantly trying to save money. My NDT reports needed typing on a printed form. I filled in a laminated large version of the form using a marker pen, which was then typed up on the form by ‘the typing pool’. They rarely made a mistake on the forms, but each inspection needed a form. We had to cut down on the number of forms, and they were rationed. So, instead of the printed forms we used photocopies – madness. The AP’s were woefully out of date, lots of chapters about Skybolt missiles (never fitted), for instance. But spurred by the start of phase out ‘someone up there’ decided that we couldn’t phase them out with the manuals so far out of date. Amendments came by the hundreds, some needing a hand written change, some needing replacement of pages. Amendments had to be done in the right sequence. One amendment might need a hand written change, or a bit of text cut/pasted (literally) on to a page. The next amendment might then replace the whole page – and 52
so on. I spent days/weeks updating books that within a year or so would be chucked in the bin – more madness. The strangest thing that happened whilst I was in Eng. Records was from a routine check. From time-to-time the aircraft were weighed, partly in order to calculate the CG (centre of gravity). Having the CG within limits is vital to safe operation of the aircraft. With such a large aircraft modifications to ‘kit’ in the tail of the aircraft could force the CG aft/forward, for instance. Most modifications would alter the CG, and close records would predict the changes ‘on paper’. A weight calculation involved jacking the aircraft with weighing units between the four jacks and the aircraft, this would usually tally with the predicted weight and CG. This calc. was well out, I was slightly interested. The aircraft was taken off jacks – checked for fuel, none on board, the weighing units were checked and the aircraft jacked up for the second time – same result. This was now very interesting – lots of checking of modification state, equipment on board and paperwork. I decided to investigate, and found they had jacked the aircraft wrongly. Explanation: There were four main jacking points and four auxiliary jacking points. The aux. points were outboard of the main, and were provided (apparently) to lift an aircraft that had belly-landed. They had jacked it up using the main points for the front jacks and the aux. points on the rear. There was some longitudinal distance between the main and the aux. points, so that threw the calculation out. How had they made the error? Simple – the stencil marks for the jacking points had been transposed, the team had just jacked it up using the ‘main’ points as marked on the aircraft. Red faces all around. But how many times had the aircraft been jacked up wrongly in the past? What difference would it have made? Well, the main jacking points could be used with up to 40% fuel load, the aux. points could only be used if the fuel load was 20% or less – now there’s something to ponder, which we chose not to think about! I filled out a job card to get the stencils sorted out. I bailed out in 1981, the writing was on the wall for the Vulcan, and I wasn’t going to hang around to find out what was next for me. I have no photos of the Vulcan taken while I worked on it, and no decent photos of XH558, although I saw it many times. I do have this though:- A cracking photo that appeared in Flight magazine in 1968. I wrote to the magazine and acquired a copy. Clearly a B2, with Blue Steel fitted. Unfortunately that is all I can say about the photo – wish I had kept some details.
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Sgt Dave Vandome (retired)
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