The Lost Years (16 page)

The next thing he was told to do was reduce speed and begin a descent. Had they been any lower the manoeuvre might have proved fatal. Perys reduced speed too much, at the same time pushing the nose of the aeroplane down at an angle that was far too steep. Only Nick’s skill succeeded in bringing the plane out of a nosedive.

As a result, Perys’s next attempt was more cautious and the aircraft began a steady descent.

‘You’ll need to turn to your left . . . gently now, you know what to do . . .’ The tinny voice came through the tube and Perys cautiously worked the controls, this time hands and feet together.

As the aeroplane banked he had a moment of alarm as full realisation came to him of how close to the ground they were, but he completed the turn and Nick’s voice said, encouragingly. ‘That was perfect. I’ll take over now and bring us down - but keep your feet and hands lightly on the controls to get the feel of it.’

Brooklands was not the easiest of places at which to land, the aircraft having to negotiate the steeply banked motor-racing track around the aerodrome perimeter before dropping on to the airfield at just the right moment. An added incentive for the pilot to concentrate fully on his landing was the presence of a sewage-farm on the line of take-off and landing. It had claimed many embarrassed and evil-smelling victims during its existence - and would claim many more.

But Nick Malloch was a skilful pilot who knew Brooklands better than he knew his own back garden. He made a perfect landing, then allowed Perys to taxi the aircraft to the hangar where they and a mechanic manhandled the machine inside.

As the two men stripped off their flying clothing inside the office, the instructor asked, ‘Well, Perys, how did you enjoy your first flight under instruction?’

‘It was absolutely fabulous,’ he replied with honest enthusiasm, ‘I can’t wait to get up there on my own.’

When Nick made no reply, Perys said, anxiously, ‘I know I didn’t do very much actual flying, but how do you think I did?’

Giving Perys an enigmatic look, Nick said, ‘As you say, you’ve hardly done any flying yet, but do as I tell you, don’t get too cocksure of yourself, and you’ll be a good pilot by the time you leave here.’

Chapter 24

On the second day of Perys’s flying course, Nick suggested he should move into the cottage occupied by himself, his wife and their two small children.

The cottage was only a short distance along the road from Brooklands, and as they were currently enjoying a period of ideal flying weather, Nick wanted Perys to put in as many flying hours as was possible without neglecting the theory. The journey to and from London each morning and evening took a large slice out of his working day, as well as tiring him for both flying and studying.

When Perys explained this to Maude it was agreed he should stay with Nick and his family during the week, returning to Knightsbridge from Saturday afternoon to Monday.

In truth, Maude was relieved. Arabella had slipped on some stairs in the hospital where she worked and sprained her ankle. She would be at home in the evenings when Maude was engaged in fund-raising activities on behalf of numerous wartime charities.

Maude believed the infatuation her youngest daughter had nursed for Perys had run its course, but she was relieved to have the risk of having it rekindled removed.

For his part, Perys was delighted to spend more time with Nick and the many flying friends who were in the habit of calling at the house in the evenings. There was now rarely a moment of the day when some aspect of flying was not being discussed.

There was another advantage to the arrange-ment. Now Nick was able to supervise Perys’s study in the evenings, he felt able to give him more flying hours during the day. At the end of three days, Perys had succeeded in putting in a total of eight hours of dual flying.

As they came in to land for the final time on the third day, Nick spoke through the tube. ‘All right, Perys, you’ve held the controls often enough while I’ve brought the ‘Longhorn’ down, now you can do it by yourself.’

Perys felt a sudden thrill of fear. ‘You mean . . . you want me to land . . . now?’

‘That’s what I said. It’s all yours. I’ll be leaning back with hands and feet off the controls. You’re in charge.’

Perys snapped a glance back over his shoulder and saw Nick sitting in the rear cockpit with eyes closed and arms folded - and he broke out in a cold sweat.

He needed to turn the aeroplane in order to approach Brooklands from downwind, and turned so sharply he felt certain Nick would say something. However, the only sound from the speaking-tube was a faint whistling that sounded remarkably like the latest popular dance tune.

Perys was able to right the aeroplane easily enough, then he tried to remember everything that Nick was in the habit of saying aloud when he was bringing the ‘Longhorn’ down to earth.

Check speed . . . don’t put the nose down too far on the approach . . . height . . . steady . . . adjust the trim . . .

Suddenly the high banking of the racing track loomed ahead and Perys had a sudden moment of panic. I’m too low . . . we’re going to hit it . . . no, we’re clear, but if I don’t touch down soon we’re going to over-run! Get it down . . . Quick!

The landing was so heavy that Perys felt certain the undercarriage would collapse, but then the wheels began rumbling over the grass and he cut back the engine. They were down safely!

His exhilaration was only slightly dampened when Nick said, ‘We bumped down so hard I thought for a moment we were going to have the wheels up in the cockpits with us.’

‘Was it really that bad?’ Perys asked, anxiously.

‘I’ve known a lot better landings,’ Nick said, honestly. ‘On the other hand, I’ve seen a great many first landings that were a hell of a lot worse - more than one from experienced pilots, too. Come on, take us over to the hangar. Time we went home.’

The whole of the following day was spent practising take-offs and landings and Nick would not allow even the smallest error to pass uncorrected. As he explained in very strong terms to Perys, most flying accidents occurred during these two essential procedures, adding, ‘Any fool can fly an aeroplane once it’s in the air. It takes skill and know-how to get it there and bring it safely back down again.’

By mid-afternoon Perys had lost count of the times he had landed and taken off in the ‘Longhorn’, then Nick’s voice came through the tube. ‘I think you’ve finally got the idea, Perys. Let’s celebrate with a trip to the seaside. Head south, south-east, and gain a bit of height.’

Perys was only too happy to follow the orders of his instructor. Brooklands was going through a busy period. Trainee RFC pilots were circling the racing track and practising their own landings and take-offs. He thought the airfield resembled a bee-hive, with aeroplanes buzzing around it like giant bees.

Once the ‘Longhorn’ gained sufficient height, Perys continued on his designated course, occasionally carrying out a manoeuvre ordered by Nick, such as a stall, or, far more frightening on the first occasion, putting the aeroplane into a spin and getting out of it again.

When they were little more than half-an- hour’s flying time from Brooklands, Nick called Perys’s attention to the view around and below them. They were approaching the sea and, as they passed over the coast, Perys pointed out another aeroplane flying on a converging course, but closer to the ground than the ‘Longhorn’.

‘Well spotted!’ Nick said, ‘Let’s go down and have a look at him.’

Perys banked the aeroplane and with a thrill of excitement pointed the nose of the ‘Longhorn’ downward. The wind sang in the wire rigging as the flimsy Farman gathered speed. As the two aeroplanes drew closer to each other a number of thoughts crossed his mind.

What would they do if the other aeroplane proved to be a German? They carried no weapons. If it was a German, would it have a gun?

He need not have worried. As they drew nearer he could see the British markings on the other plane. The aircraft itself was similar to their own, but without the extension in front of the cockpit which had given rise to the nickname ‘Longhorn’.

Nick called out that it was a ‘Shorthorn’, belonging to the Royal Naval Air Service. ‘He’s probably on patrol,’ he added, ‘but he’s not keeping a very good look-out. All right, Perys, I’ll take control for a few minutes and wake him up a little.’

Reluctantly, Perys relinquished control of the aeroplane, wondering what Nick had in mind.

He soon found out. They were quite a distance above the other aeroplane which was ambling along at a comfortable speed. Now Nick put the ‘Longhorn’ into a dive, gradually gathering speed. Perys realised they would be diving dangerously close to the other aeroplane. He could imagine the effect it would have on the two occupants of the Royal Naval plane when they suddenly appeared out of nowhere, cutting straight across their flight path.

The result was all he thought it would be. The other pilot did not see them until they came down in front of him. He took immediate and violent avoiding action, diving to one side and away from them.

He recovered quickly enough and immediately recognised their own aeroplane for what it was.

The two aeroplanes converged once more, but this time, when they were close enough, they flew alongside each other. The naval pilot shook his fist at them, but his wide grin took the sting out of the gesture.

The planes flew side by side for a couple of minutes before Nick’s voice came through the tube again. ‘All right, Perys, take over now. We’ve had our fun for today. Let’s go home.’

With a final reciprocated wave from their occupants, the two aeroplanes parted company, the Royal Naval ‘Shorthorn’ resuming its patrol, and its older and slightly more cumbersome ‘brother’ setting a course for Brooklands.

Chapter 25

The following day Perys flew solo for the first time. It came without warning. He and his instructor had travelled to the airfield in Nick’s car, as usual, and Perys entered the office to put on his flying clothes while Nick went into the hangar to speak to his mechanics. When he returned to the office, instead of following Perys’s example and putting on his flying clothes, Nick sat down at his desk and began poring over some paperwork.

Disappointed, Perys asked, ‘Aren’t we going flying right away?’

‘I’m not,’ was the reply, ‘but you are. Away you go, before the RFC lads come out to play and get in your way.’

Perys had been aware that this moment could not be too far away, but coming like this it took him by surprise. Nick had said nothing to him about it on the way to Brooklands that morning.

‘What is it you want me to do?’ he asked, hesitantly.

‘Nothing you haven’t done many times before,’ was the reply. ‘Take off, fly around the track for a few circuits, then land. Take off again immediately and do the same again. After a while, if you feel confident enough, go off and take a jolly somewhere - but don’t lose yourself. Choose a course, stick to it, and fly a reciprocal course home again.’ Perys taxied the aeroplane across the runway with considerable trepidation. He had practised all this before, and performed it well, but at the back of his mind had always been the thought that if anything did go wrong, Nick was always there to take over.

Now there was no one. He had to do it right the first time.

The knowledge that Nick trusted him to fly on his own was reassuring, but before he took off he looked across to the office. Both Nick and the mechanics had abandoned their work to come out and watch him.

The take-off went surprisingly well and Perys realised that the loss of weight of one man helped the performance of the ‘Longhorn’ a great deal.

For the same reason, the landing was somewhat less than perfect, but although Perys was not satisfied with it, the aeroplane suffered no damage and when he glanced towards the office Nick gave him a cheery wave.

The second landing was better and the third as good as any he had made with Nick in the aeroplane with him.

When he made his fourth landing, Perys saw that Nick and the mechanics had stopped watching and gone back to their respective tasks. He decided it was time to enjoy his flight.

He had already decided where he would go on his first solo flight and had even worked out the course and the distances involved. In preparation for this moment he had written a brief note and placed it inside a small shell case, attached to a home-made parachute.

It was his intention to fly over his old school in Oxfordshire and let them know that one of their less illustrious students was doing something useful with his life after all.

By the time Perys reached the school, lessons were over for the morning but, as had been the routine when he was there, most of the boys were out on the sports fields. They were either preparing for inter-house Rugby Union matches, or practising in order that the participants might one day graduate to a house team.

Perys’s first pass over the fields brought all activities to an excited halt. His second, much lower this time, added consternation to the excitement. At the very moment he threw out his message, Perys thought he saw the face of the headmaster looking up at him, but he could not be certain.

Looking back as he climbed to clear the school buildings he saw such a scrummage to collect his parachute message that he could identify no one.

The return flight to Brooklands was uneventful, but back at the airfield an accident occurred. It was one that would remain in his memory for ever, even after he had witnessed the full horrors of war. It was undoubtedly caused by the RFC’s poor method of training, something that Nick felt very strongly about.

The Royal Flying Corps had gone to France in the first days of the war. Despite the opposition of some diehard senior army officers who still believed wars could be won by sword-wielding gentlemen on horseback, the fliers had swiftly proved their worth in reconnaissance duties. Indeed, it was soon conceded, albeit grudgingly, that without them the German army might not have been thrown back from the very gates of Paris.

With this recognition came a belated realisation that Britain lagged woefully behind the other powers in the number of flying machines in service, and men qualified to fly them. In order to rectify this situation as quickly as possible, hastily recruited trainee pilots were rushed through a skimpy flying course. They learned only as much, or as little, as was necessary to obtain the qualifications required to pilot the increasing flood of aeroplanes being turned out by dozens of factories and workshops throughout the land.