Folks,

It is truly spring here in eastern North Carolina. I went out before the heavy rain yesterday and cut the grass for the first time this season. I didn't particularly want to cut the grass but, as my dear wife pointed out...it was the fastest and most reliable way to find our mailbox.

I'm all stuffy and have a sore throat today. I must have an allergy to freshly cut grass or perhaps it was to the work? Anyhow, they say misery loves company so here is another in the flight instructor series. Now, if you'll kindly read this, we will all be miserable together.

Uncanny Aircraft Recognition
By: JRT
Original HWH
Page 7
7/3/01

Kindly pay close attention as we climb to 20,000 feet and smoothly level off. You should appreciate the fact that it was not an easy task getting that fussy old military sawbones to allow you to leave the hospital so soon after our last eventful flight. A little thanks would certainly be in order and you might refrain from making those terrified faces every time we hit an air pocket or adjust our heading now and then.

I understand that you are reasonably dubious and somewhat jittery. After our past near-fatal experiences in the air I would not be at all surprised if you were a total basket case. As I had suspected, you are made of sterner stuff, my friend.

And so, once again you trust me with your life and limb in the war-torn skies over Britain. This time, I assure you, you really will not regret it. Good news, now that we are flying straight and level at about 20,000 feet in our cozy little Spitfire, you may remove the gag from your mouth and I’ll help untie the rope. That’s much better isn’t it? If you’ll relax now and enjoy our ride this will be a pleasant experience for both of us and you will learn a lot. Aren’t you glad I insisted on bringing you along?

Just off our port side you’ll notice another Spitfire is just now rising from behind and below us to position itself on our wing. This is the brave Old Dux, our much-suffering but absolutely reliable wingman. We will not be able to contact him. In your struggles you broke our radio. No matter, we use hand signals on such an occasion.

Dux is there to make certain that the enemy does not give us a nasty surprise. Oh, yes, the enemy is up here somewhere too. Why are you attempting to scratch your way out of this perfectly good airplane? Kindly stop pressing your nose against the Perspex hood. You are leaving an unsightly streak. Calm down. This is part of your training as a future Spitfire pilot.

Still want out? Better not put too much faith and trust in that dirty old parachute. It is one of my old chutes and therefore has been used so much it is pretty worn out. Do not look at me in that tone of voice. You will have no need of it during this flight, I promise you.

Our mission today is a simple CAP or Combat Air Patrol over our little RAF base. If you will look down as I lower the wing in a gentle bank you can make out the runway we took off from just below us right now. Look to the left of that small cumulus cloud and you’ll easily pick it out. Are you airsick already? Please adjust your flesh tone, greenish yellow is not a particularly attractive shade. Yes, we do have a barf bag; however, it may not have been cleansed since your last eventful visit. What was that? Old man, that comment was uncalled for.

Stop complaining and look up and just to the right of the blazing sun. Yes the sun is hot. The sun is always hot. Was that a fact unnoticed by you until this very moment? As I said, look up and follow my finger. You’ll just be able to make out a large flight of our Hurricanes coming toward us out of old Sol’s brilliant summer glare. You doubt that they are Hurricanes? Never question your instructor, my boy. If there is one thing I am particularly known for it is my uncanny ability to identify aircraft at long distance.

You do see them now, don’t you? They are little black specks. Well, if it makes you feel any better, they aren’t Hurricanes, perhaps they are Defiants? Ummmm, no, not Defiants either. I must say old boy, it is unlike Dux not to call out when other aircraft are seen in our patrol area. Oops! Yes, thank you for reminding me in your distinctive, trembling voice. I had forgotten that our radio is kaput. Well, let’s look a bit harder. You should be squinting your eyes as we gaze into the blinding sun. Perhaps they are a large flight of friendly Beaufighters?

You say Dux is gesticulating wildly? He is making faces. He is waggaling his wings. Pay no attention to him, he does that now and then for no apparent reason. He is a nervous chap I suppose. Ummm, perhaps they are Blenheims? No, they’re single engine craft and just too small. I’ve got it now, they’re Se5s, no, Sopwith Camels...I think that’s it.

Wait, you say you seem to recall that Sopwiths were biplanes? You are correct. This can’t be a flight of Sopwiths then. They’re definitely monoplanes and a funny gray in color. Do we have any mottled gray fighters on our side? These ships are sleek looking little devils and they are coming on fast, too.

You say Dux is pulling out his hair, pointing at the sky and repeatedly crossing his neck with his index finger in a slashing motion? Hmmm, that’s not one of our regular signals. Remind me latter to tear a suitably large strip off the old lad’s hide for not using the proper hand signals. I’m a stickler for important things like that and he well knows it.

Wait, these fellows are all falling right at us now. One, four, eight, there are twelve of the little blighters. Take it easy. Get off your knobby knees and stop beseeching Heaven. There is no danger whatsoever. It is only a mock attack by friendlies, so we’ll just play
along. Isn’t this exciting? You'll learn bags of stuff today, and thank me tomorrow.

Hold steady for a few more moments and we’ll be able to easily identify them. You say Dux has had a conniption fit of some sort, gave us the two finger salute, and his plane is no longer visible? This is not at all like the boy, something must have gone terribly wrong with his engine. Remind me to go easy on him about that other minor infraction.

We’ll act as if we have not seen the RAF boys as they come in for their pretend attack on our undefended arse. Do not worry, they will not dare fire upon us. We are perfectly safe. We are much safer, I suspect, than the unlucky Dux. He is probably making a dead stick swan dive into some rural patch of England filled with cow manure about now. Too bad, he will miss all the fun.

Sorry, what did you just say...was it about all their guns flashing? Tracers? Did you say tracers? I cannot hear you old man, please remove your head from between your knees and speak more clearly...