A Soldier in the Cockpit by Ron Pottinger

Author:Ron Pottinger
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stackpole Books

The author, just after commissioning, August 1944.

The author and Joy.

Someone had fetched our boss, Wing Commander Roland Beamont, and he settled things by telling me to come in wheels down. I remember circling, uneasily, but too busy to be afraid. On the approach I yanked my safety straps as hard as I could, and made sure the hood was securely locked open. I didn’t fancy being trapped in the cockpit again. The landing must have been the best ever. It really greased on, ran for a couple of hundred yards straight and then slowly turned left, despite all my frantic efforts on the right brake and judicious bursts of the throttle. It ended up about fifty yards off the runway, and at right angles to it, as if it had turned it’s back on the whole sorry scene.

As I climbed out, everyone came running up, congratulations and smiles everywhere. Beamont congratulated me on the landing, and bawled me out for not knocking the switches off as soon as I touched down. In fact with my straps so tight I couldn’t reach the switches, and in any case the engine was a good deal of use in keeping the plane straight after touchdown. My flight commander also bawled me out for not flying around longer to get rid of more fuel. Should I have cared, I hadn’t even a scratch.

So far as the plane was concerned, it was still in one piece. However, the small strut which had broken, had swung down during the landing and gone through the wing. This meant that the wing had to be changed. A pity because otherwise there would have been no damage except the strut which caused all the excitement.

The Tempest Wing and their successes against the V1 were making the news. Of course any good news was a boost to the general public’s moral, so the press were invited down to Newchurch for the day.

I didn’t see much of them but I think they talked to anyone who was around at the time. Some of the European pilots, who still had families across the Channel, were not too keen on the publicity and made themselves scarce while the news hawks were around. As usual, what they didn’t hear, they made up. In particular several pilots acquired nicknames which none of us had ever heard, and a good deal of amusement was had by all.

Around that time we also had a visit from the famous writer, Ernest Hemingway. He had come over from America as a war correspondent to cover the D-Day landings. I think he spent most time in the officer’s mess, and talked to Roland Beamont and others. He did come out to dispersal where some of us, in a variety of states of ‘readiness’, were sitting in a group on the grass. From what I can remember he didn’t take part in any conversation with the group. I recall it was a comparatively quiet time without a lot of activity.

The Air

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