My Quest For Wings: Ft Lt John Francis Webster by Webster John Francis

Author:Webster, John Francis [Webster, John Francis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Estelle Simone Webster
Published: 2014-12-03T16:00:00+00:00

Flying Instructor Again

I was sent to Lulsgate Bottom, near Bristol, and there we flew Oxfords and learnt once again, how to be a flying instructor, which as will be seen, led my air bourn lie onto Mosquito's once more, and the jet aircraft of the period. You will also realise, that he chop rate did not really diminish for the flying fraternity in peacetime to the extent one would have expected. The course was completed on the 3rd July 1945, and I was awarded a "B" instructor rating. Pending posting to training unite, I went to Finmere, the field where Jack (my nav) and I nearly ended up in my burning Mosquito away back in time.

There I was able to fly Spitfires, the old Dominie, de Havillands twin workhorse, the Anson and anything else I happened to trip over on the airfield. In those days there was not the big play made on flying various types. You jumped in, and off you went, after perusing the pilot's notes for that particular type of aircraft. Shades of yester-year! The airfield, to which I was posted to instruct the Mossie, was Middleton St George, near Darlington. The satellite air field was Croft, which was located in a lovely part of the country. It became later, a race track for racing cars, or so I was told. We trained all manner, and breeds of pilots, including Dutchmen, who had mainly flown Catalia. They were a good lot, and I often wonder where they all ended up. My two sad recollections surrounds one youngster named Blackall, a flying officer, who one beautiful sunny morning, caught fire over the Moors of Yorkshire, and did not bale out. German prisoners of war, were the first to locate the wreckage, and could offer no assistance. I had just flown with this nice young officer on a flight check, before sending him off, on what was to be, his last flight. I was air born myself with another student, Wg. Cdr. Johnny Player, another Aussie, who was in due, to go the same way as young Blackall, over in Germany with air force of occupation. That was in a Mossie, too. The nature of his death is not known to me, but I guessed, it was the usual one, of loss of power on one engine or some such thing. About this time, our third child, my son John, developed eczema as a babe, and it was very severe, which three hospitals in London and Cambridge tired to cure, but with little success. He ended up in the Cambridge hospital, Addenbrooks, where due to a bug, or something, he was placed in the only ward available, the ward for old soldiers, and such alike, and as fate would have it, the babe was placed in a bed which, at the time of my wife's visit, was situated in such a position that the babe was exposed to full rays of the summer sun. Exaggerated by the glass in

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