WW II Air War 11It was sitting there on the tarmac
as I walked out. I stood still for a
moment and just looked. This aircraft
was belligerence personified. From the
elegant rudder to the four short 20mm
cannon, the destructive power was
obvious. Designed only to kill, it was
ready and eager to carry a young pilot
into combat. It seemed immense with
that enormous 2,000-plus-horsepower
motor taking up so much of its total. I
walked closer, my parachute over my
shoulder. One of the ground crew stood
on the wing with the canopy open, ready
for me. I handed the parachute up to
him, and he placed it in the cockpit.
“First solo on Hawker’s new effort?” he
said and grinned at me. I grinned back.
My left foot went into the foot recess
in the fuselage, and then I was in the
cockpit. I snuggled down, everything
seemed familiar; this was, after all, the
third Hawker aircraft type I had flown.
The airman dropped the straps over my
shoulders, and I buckled up. He jumped
down, and I started my cockpit drill.
Thirty minutes earlier I had been
standing with my flight commander,
Frank Murphy, in the pilots’ dispersal
at Tangmere. I was with 486 (NZ)
Squadron. It was January 1944.
“You can give that new Tempest a run,
Staff. You haven’t flown one yet, have
you?” said Frank, and he smiled at me.
“No, sir; I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’ll find it very different from
the Typhoon. I think she’s a great
improvement. Just watch that violent
swing to the right on takeoff; so much
torque from that giant prop. Remember
the left trim! Do something stupid, and
she will kill you faster than you can
think.”
I was remembering that bit of advice
as the motor started like a volcano.
I waved to the airman, released the
brakes and taxied out to the end of the
perimeter track. Watching the control
tower, the green light exploded in my
face giving me the all clear. I taxied
onto the runway and turned into wind. A
sign should have said ’Heaven this way.’
This was heaven to me.
I opened the throttle fully, and like
a charging bull, that mighty aircraft
leapt away pressing me against the
rear support. I got the tail up as that
powerful twist to the right began. I had
applied full left trim and was giving her
full left rudder. The speed increased;
the control became more positive. I felt
the air below me as it lifted from the
runway still exerting some swing to the
right. Up went the undercart, confirmed
by a mighty clunk.
The spirits of my fathers were
pushing as this mighty raptor moved
to the heavens as easy as a rocket into
the sky, climbing effortlessly. Easing the
throttle back, the motor quietened to
a steady throb, and I was here; thrilled
like a debutante on her first date, I wasin love. I looked at the glorious elliptical
shape of the wings. From the cockpit
the visibility was perfection; just a
touch on the rudder, and I could see
under the tail.
An hour seemed to pass as minutes.
The fuel also passed at a similar speed
as I burst through the sky in this steel
falcon. At 400mph, it was a breeze. Time
to return. Tangmere was in sight. I made
my approach, dropping like a mallard
onto his pond. The wide undercarriage
created stability, and I touched down
like a butterfly.
Murph was waiting at the dispersal,
watching me land.
“How was it, Staff? No problems? Did
you give her a good workout?” I’d had
some operational experience on the
Typhoon, but this was something else.
“It was just heaven,” I grinned.
“I could have stayed up there all day.
God, isn’t she something? I looped and
rolled, twisted and turned, climbed and
dived—what an impressive dive and what
a zoom climb.” Murph just smiled.
I looked out the open door and
studied the Tempest. I imagined a
message came from it saying: Fly me
well and together we’ll win. I’ll bring you
home.
My confidence was total.Tempest F.I prototype, HM 599
(Photo courtesy of Joe Gertler)FLYING THE HAWKER TEMPEST