FP_2015_05_

IN THE LOGBOOKIN THE LOGBOOK

May 2015FLYPAST 31

formation. As we close in on the

big bomber, I fully appreciate just

what a fat target a B-24 must’ve

been in a Focke-Wulf Fw 190 or

Messerschmitt Bf 109 gunsight.

If you could get in close without

being shot down you couldn’t miss.

We then wave goodbye to the

bomber’s occupants and climb

up over Florida’s giant Lake

Okeechobee so I can try some

aerobatics. With the power back

up to 40ins and 2,500rpm we

climb at 170kt and 3,000ft/min

so it doesn’t take long to reach

8,000ft.

Mark encourages me to acquaint

myself with the machine’s general

handling characteristics, so while

still scorching skywards I try a few

steep turns. The primary controls

are powerful and although any out-

of-trim condition produces forces

that are quite high, they are easily

trimmed out. Harmony of control

is good with the ailerons being

the lightest and the rudder the

heaviest.

As Mark warned, the slip

ball needed to be monitored

constantly, and rudder applied

judiciously. As long as you trim

regularly and always keep the

speed above at least 150kt - to

provide a sensible cushion

• aerobatting a Mustang is
  tremendous fun.
  Unlike modern competition
  aerobatic aircraft, its size
  and weight mean that things
  happen relatively slowly, except
  for acceleration. Once the
  nose is well below the horizon
  it really accelerates, and at
  altitude probably soon runs into
  compressibility.
  Under Mark’s patient tutelage,
  I try a couple of loops and rolls,
  including aileron and barrel,
  before finishing off with a pretty
  good four-point roll, and a not-so-
  good eight-point version.

High-speed

low-level

It’s nearly time to land at

Okeechobee airport, but first Mark

can’t resist taking control and

descending for a high-speed low-

level run over the lake. Racing at

250kts across the water gives me

a good idea of what a strafing run

must feel like, but using high power

at low level really gobbles the gas.

Turning downwind at Okeechobee,

I ease the throttle back to 24ins

with the prop at 2,500rpm, set

the flaps to 20 degrees and

concentrate on maintaining 140kt.

The undercarriage then goes down,

along with another ten degrees of

flap and some nose-up trim; speed

130.

If I can fly a neat, curving base

leg I should be able to keep the

runway more or less in sight

until short final, so as soon as

we’re abeam the numbers I start

turning. The last 10 degrees of flap

goes down, along with more nose-

up trim and some right rudder

trim (in case of a go-around);

speed 120. On very short final I

roll the wings level with the speed

bleeding back towards 105, and as

we flash over the fence I glance at

the ASI and see exactly 100kts.

As the nose is still pitched well

down I can see the runway over

Mark’s shoulder, but as soon as

I raise the nose and start easing

the throttle back my view forward

shrinks to zero. I firmly focus my

peripheral vision on the runway’s

edge and continue easing the stick

and throttle back while knowing

Mark is poised to take control it if

things even look like going awry.

The Merlin pops and crackles

as we sink, then a combination

of good luck, excellent coaching

and 3,000 hours of tailwheel time

sees the mainwheels chirp gently

onto the concrete, followed by

the tailwheel. All I can see is the

side of the runway, but it’s enough

to tell me we’re running straight

so I simply hold the stick back

and let the Mustang keep rolling

along with just a few quick dabs of

rudder.

The runway is free, but the

brakes are expensive so I wait

until the ‘1,000ft’ marker flicks

past the canopy, then slip my toes

further up the pedals and just

think about braking. I take the

turn-off at walking speed while

Mark retracts the flaps and opens

the radiator door fully. “Great

job,” he says, adding: “If we fly

together again I’ll put you in the

front.” I’m well chuffed.

As we approach the parking ramp

there’s the usual small cluster of

elderly, dignified men in well-worn

A2 jackets, standing by the B-17

and B-24. As we pull up alongside

I notice one veteran clearly

struggling to control his emotions.

I’ve seen this before when taxying

historic aircraft and I always think

the same thoughts – I know what

he’s looking at, but what does he

see? A piece of history, or a piece of

his story?

“The runway is free, but the brakes are expensive so I wait until the ‘1,000ft’

marker fl icks past the canopy, then slip my toes further up the pedals and just

think about braking”

The stick and throttle both fall nicely to

hand, and although there are a lot of circuit

breakers on the right side panel they are

mostly forward of the elbow line.

26-31_Mustang_fpSBB.indd 31 13/03/2015 11:19