Anyway all this talk ofaAircraft got me thinking back to the stories my Dad used to tell of his days at RAE Farnborough. Four stories came to mind at a trot and one of them says something about the nature of friendship.
For those not aware of the Royal Aircraft Establishment (whose ancestors are now called QinetiQ or some such) i shall infill with a potted history.
Farnborough is credited as the site of the first powered flight in the UK by a Texan by the name of Samuel Cody
Little is really known of his true origins but he eventually earned a contract to build British Army Aeroplane no.1. The then War Office decided after it's first flight in 1908 that there was no future in powered flight and cancelled all further contracts. There is an apocryphal tale that one minister peered in the cockpit and asked incredulously just where did he fit all the coal for the engine!
Cody persevered and partly through his showman ship managed to persuade the war office to continue with the development of powered - just in time for the onset of WW1!
From there the site at Farnborough grew until it was the centre for all government aircraft technology and testing.
My Father joined as an engineering apprentice in 1947.
One of his early complaints was the huge catering tins of peanut butter that were provided with bread should the apprentices (who all lived on site) get peckish. When the tin was first opened everyone would dive in but towards the bottom of the tin the peanuts all collected and it got difficult to hoick the stuff out with your knife. There then came a sort of catch 22 where no one would eat the peanut butter as it was too dry but as they were only allowed one open tin at a time they didn't get a new one for what seemed like ages.
The second story is a classic tale of misdirection. There was always a problem with pilfering of stores for personal use. So much so that you needed a chit to get anything off site. The MOD police licked their lips with anticipation when they saw a man wheeling a barrow loaded up to a height with gear. Some of this was surely nicked! They stopped the employee and made him produce his chits. Which he did for every single piece of metal on his barrow. Eventually after counting through it all for a second time they scratched their heads and had to accept he was entitled to all their stuff. They loaded all his gear back on his barrow and sent him on his way laughing as he went. It vexed them that they could not figure out what was so funny. Beyond the gates the barrow man was asked why was he so cheerful at having to spend so much time under the close scrutiny of MOD Plod. It turned out he had stolen the barrow!
The third tale always spoke to me. It was one of those ideas that really appealed to me. A concept that just seemed so random and so destructive that it could not fail to appeal to small malevolent children.
Rumour spread in Cold War Britain that the Russians were able to air drop their tanks onto the battle field. This was not welcome news. The dastardly Russki's could literally just drop in. We had to develop a similar capability also. And so it fell to RAE to sort it out. Early trials were not good.
A cradle was built and a disused Cromwell tank was firmly strapped in for the ride. The amount of parachute required to affect a decent landing speed for the old tank was attached to the top and the whole rig thrown in the back of a Fairchild Packet plane and then flown to Salisbury Plain. Along with a few spare Apprentices who were going ot help lob it out the back at the requisite moment.
What hadn't been factored in was that although the parachute coverage should have been ample these were just adapted human parachutes and as such not designed to take the strain of a 5 ton tank falling through the sky.
The end result was that the back of the plane opened up to allow the departure of the parachutes closely followed by the Cromwell tank. So far so good. Unfortunately once out of the aircraft the parachutes and tank soon parted company to leave the tank to follow the shortest route to the ground.
When the project was halted the only outcome was some very large holes with tanks at the bottom of them and some rather irate sheep.
Finally a tale about human friendship. The aforementioned apprentices were all billeted in residences on site and were two to a room. My Dad always told this story about his room mate. They spent 5 years as roomies and never once said a cross word to each other. However once they finished their time they went in their separate directions and never spoke again.
Funny how life goes
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