Chapter 4
The following week it was time for the prospective Team Leader/Flight Commanders to strut their stuff, and they would all be arriving by vicarious means pm Sunday, for an early start Monday. Various single and multi engined aircraft started to arrive from mid-morning onwards, depositing their owners and/or passengers outside Mi Casa, then suddenly I had a frantic call from Chalky in the tower. I raced outside just in time to see a small Russian SU-26 single seat aerobatic aircraft (complete with state markings) seemingly hover into view, its rudder only inches from the ground. I was almost certain that I knew the difference between a helicopter and a conventional fixed wing aircraft, and then I thought about Teddy’s comment about re-writing the ‘Theory of Flight hand book’, Natasha had arrived. I watched her give a phenomenal display, and then plop down on the taxi track just in front of ‘A’ hangar. I mentally ticked the box ‘give a solo aerobatic display’. She shut down the tiny aircraft and trotted over to me.
‘Don’t tell me, you stole the Sukhoi and have come here to claim asylum?’ I asked her.
‘Oh no’ she said, ‘when I told them that I was going to be Leader of the best aerobatic team in the World they lent it to me, no problem, but I had to promise to return it with a full tank of petrol’.
‘Cocky little madam’ I thought, then I realised that the criteria for Team Leader was for the best person to get the job, without fear, favour or sexual discrimination - and she was simply stating the obvious. ‘How did you do the hovering thing?’ I asked.
‘Simple’ she replied ‘the SU-26 has more power than weight, so easy peesy’.
That display earned her a conducted tour of El Campo by yours truly, and then early the next morning I had another frantic phone call, this time from Topsy. A lunatic little girl wanted to steal a single seat Hunter, but first she had asked him ‘please, where is the starter button?’ Natasha was obviously up and about.
I laughed and told him to let her have it, we had plenty more on the way, and then walked outside onto the balcony and watched her as she walked once around the aircraft, climbed into it, lit the fire and taxied to the end of the runway. Fifteen minutes later I had mentally added ‘in a Hunter’ to the ‘aerobatic’ box, it was an awe inspiring display of man, sorry woman, melding with machine; I would hate to have been one of the other applicants that were watching, after that performance. On executing a perfect landing she taxied back in, clambered out and went up to an open mouthed Topsy. She reached up, closed his mouth with a finger, kissed him on the cheek and told him that ‘Zaz iz a buttiful little airplane, zank you’, then trotted off.
By Tuesday afternoon Teddy and I were redundant; we had got fed up with her ‘suggesting’ something, and then us passing on the good idea, so we cut out the middle men and let her get on with it and went for a ‘cuppa’. Natasha had arrived with two or three ideas about aerobatic routines in her carrier bag, but after her first flight in the serene Hunter she tore them up, and on the first Thursday of the two week evaluation she came to us with her new routine, especially composed for the Hawker Hunter, and as she pirouetted and swooped gracefully in front of us in Teddy’s office we both instantaneously knew that we were watching the birth of the teams opening public display next season. The F16’s and 18’s had the raw power, the continentals had their nimble dexterity with their Sukhoi’s and Pitt’s but we would have the grace and serenity of the world’s most beautiful jet. I was almost reduced to tears, and it had yet to be performed by an aircraft.
The next day, as I sat quietly munching my chip butty in the greenhouse (that had been hand created for me by the finest chef this side of the black stump) Bob Edwards, the late owner of Topsy’s aircraft, parked his rear at my table. Until Natasha had arrived he had been the unofficial front runner for the Team Leaders crown, as he had led the red arrows countless times, but after the obligatory small talk he said in desperation ‘when you make her leader PLEASE tell her to slow down a bit, we are all knackered just trying to keep up with her’.
That afternoon Teddy and I had a chat, and the following morning we called her into my office and offered her the job, then I gathered the rest of the candidates together and broke the sad news to them. I just knew that they would all be devastated that they wouldn’t be getting the position. They cheered.
By the beginning of week two, out of the twenty six starters, four of them had failed the medical, and another four lacked the ‘intestinal fortitude’ (guts) to fly as close to another aeroplane as Natasha demanded, (Teddy regularly commented that ‘another coat of paint and they would be touching each other’), but we knew that the surviving pilots were shaping up to become the best of the best, and herein lay our problem, we had eighteen wannabee Flight Commanders for just four positions, but we were saved from making that decision by Natasha, as on Wednesday afternoon she came to see Teddy and I.
‘Could we please have a little chat’? (She could switch the Russian accent on and off at will). She had gotten to know the other pilots very well over the past ten days, getting to know all their ‘many strengths and few weaknesses’, and ‘if it was up to her (it was, but I wasn’t going to let her know that just yet), she would have Thingamabob, Whatshisname, Hoojamaflip, and the stumpy little one as Flight Commanders (it’s a pity that she wasn’t as good with names as she was with strengths and weaknesses), with the rest as the remainder of the team, BUT she would have two pilots to many’.
I then let her into my little secret. As we had been sat idly by, watching, we had realised that we would require a support aircraft, and I had been looking around for a late series BAe 146 (Avro RJ) four engined ‘whisper jet’. As four engined aircraft went it was quite titchy, but it could operate from smallish airfields without creating too much noise.
‘Have any of the team got four engined aircraft rating?’ I asked Teddy.
Apparently two had, Sally Peters and Peter Frost. Both were single parents, both were going to give up flying and get a ‘proper job’ if they didn’t get into the team, and both fancied the pants off each other; although neither of them realised that their feelings were reciprocated, and then I had another one of my brilliant revelations, ‘how about if we not only offered them the job of flying the 146 around, but also made them our spare pilots as well’. Natasha thought that the stigma of only being spares might be too much, but I went on, ‘the Engineers are going to be ‘on the books’ (permanent staff) but the pilots will only have two year contracts, renewable by mutual agreement at the end of the display seasons’. In years to come I could manage with a sixty-four year old mechanic, but I could just imagine a group of sixty-four year old pilots being wheeled out in their bath chairs, ‘the first one that remembered how to start an aircraft can try and have a go at flying it’. A slight exaggeration, but they got the point. As the 146’s drivers they would be on the books, in reality it would mean that they would be paid slightly less than the rest, but once they gave up ‘aerobaticing’ they would end their time as my corporate jet pilots. Teddy also pointed out that all pilots in the team would have to be able to cover another team members position if unforeseen situations arose, but the spares could cover two, or even three, so they should get more than enough stick and display time, as a common or garden head cold would temporarily ground a pilot, ‘and not only would they both qualify for permanent housing’, I butted in, ‘but their offspring would automatically receive one of my scholarships’. Maria joined us (only fair – as she would be sorting out the paperwork) and after discussing the finer intricacies for a few more minutes I summonsed them both into the office, and that could have been a big mistake, but I felt lucky.
As they came in I could tell that they had done their maths, sixteen aircraft, eighteen pilots, single parents and about to ‘give up’ on flying, WRONG, ‘Would you like to be my spare pilots’ I started off, and as I worked my way through what their responsibilities would be we had the full range of emotions displayed in front of us.
They went into Maria’s empty office to tal
k it over, and were back in ten minutes, full of the joys of spring. They had actually agreed in about ten seconds flat but then they had a celebratory kiss (purely professional of course); they hoped that Maria wouldn’t notice her re-arranged desk. The rest of the team were pulled in one at a time, first the four Flight Leaders, and then the remainder. All had come to El Campo hoping for a senior position, but when we had finished with them I had my aerobatic display team, ye-ha.
It was great having an aerobatic display team but I had one small problem, I had no finished aircraft, and I wouldn’t have any until the end of the summer, so all the pilots, with the exception of Natasha, went off to hand in their notices, have a bit of family time, and complete the relevant ‘short courses’ of the ancillary tasks that each would be required to take on, and after sending a box of unmarked US Dollars to the ‘relevant authority’, Russia even let me keep the SU 26, bit to lively for me – but a great ‘training aid’ for the team. There was of course no chance of any displays this summer but the timing was actually perfect, the pilots and aircraft would arrive at the end of this summer’s display season, although the maintainers would be up and running way before then. Teddy and Natasha would then start to knock the new team into shape in the autumn, they would then all have a three week break for Christmas, and then it would be down to the serious stuff, and hopefully after a fairly successful display season the pilots would then be off for another well-earned break (airline tickets by kind courtesy of yours truly). The maintainers would also have their fair share of leave, but it would be spread out over the training season, and as most of them would be living local, only those that were commuting would get the air tickets, it would give John another thing to sort out when he wasn’t juggling nineteen Hunters. I say nineteen Hunters, that was because I now had sixteen display aircraft plus the two spares, and now my very own one, but unfortunately for him it didn’t stop there, he would also now be responsible for the maintenance of a BAe 146 and all the other aircraft that I was collecting along the way; as the saying goes - what’s the point of keeping a dog and barking yourself. Rover, sorry John, seemed quite an adaptable kind of person so I let him get on with it, but although he had the responsibility for servicing my personal aircraft I had no intention of letting anyone else fly it. It would still have a glass cockpit like all the others, but it would also have a few extra refinements, including a more sophisticated navigation system, so that I wouldn’t get lost when I was off on one of my jaunts (which would be most of the time), an interface that would allow my PC on screen (if I got bored I could play solitaire), and a satellite phone so that I could still chat to all and sundry, even when I wasn’t on terra firma.
One of the first things that Natasha and John ganged up on me about was the identities of the aircraft. ‘What was the point’ I said, ‘they will all have their individual aircraft identification letters’, but apparently it was ok to tell a mechanic to go and check the floggle toggle valve on the G450 or Harvard, but it was a whole different kettle of fish when he was faced with a hangar full of identical aircraft, that had a multitude of identification letters on their sides. The poor mechanic would be wandering around half the night just trying to find the right aircraft.
‘Point taken’ I said.
‘Do you want numbers or letters’ asked John.
I wasn’t going to let them get away with ganging up on me that easy, ‘Neither’ I said, ‘I want names’.
They went a funny colour.
The idea that had been floating around in the back of my mind, was to use the alphabet, but with a difference, I was determined to have another ‘Lady S’. The first aircraft in line would have a name starting with the letter ‘A’, ie Angela. It would have a large fancy ‘A’ on either side of its fin, and a large A - with small ‘ngela’ on either side of its nose. The Pilots name would be written, not printed, on the side of the aircraft below the cockpit on the port side (getting very nautical), and the Plane Captains name would go on the starboard side, ‘oh! and of course they will all be in gold’ I added. It will all look very nice against the British Racing Green I thought, BUT I had a problem, I wanted Lady S, but was I to have large L-small ‘ady s’, or small lady - large S? Decisions, decisions.
‘The latter would be more practical’ said sensible John, ‘you can then have a large S on either side of the fin, and Lady S on either side of the nose’.
‘Great idea, I like it’.
‘Ok’ he said, ‘I will tell HHR to get the gold paint out then’.
‘John, oh John, oh John’ I said, ‘you really have got a lot to learn about working for me!!!!!!’
Natasha matched each pilot up with an aircraft and a letter of the alphabet, and then contacted them; they had one week to come up with three names for me to choose from. I was flexible, that’s why I ended up with Arabella, Blodwyn, Cuddles, Dingbat, Ethelred, Floozy, Glencora, Helga, Ingrid, Juliette, King Kong, Lewellyn, Melva, Nutcracker, Ophelia, and Pumpkin. Unfortunately I had to reluctantly veto my personal favourite though, John estimated that the aircraft would have to have be extended six feet to fit Llanfair-pwllgwyngyll-gogerychwyrndrobw-llllantysiliogogogoch, all in, although I’m still glad that I’m not going to be the sign writer. ‘Can I have the standard aircraft markings in Bottle Green’ I asked, ‘they would look much prettier than black or white’.
‘I think it’s illegal’ John said, ‘but who’s going to have the spherical’s to tell you’.
Good lad, he was starting to get the hang of it at last.
The only other ‘urgentish’ problem that I had before I took myself of for some serious ‘bronzy bronzying’ was what on earth was the collective noun for a gaggle of Hunters? ‘Hunties’, the ‘Huntsmen’ (I liked that one but I doubted if my four female pilots would), then I went onto a play on the word ‘green’. The ‘green angels’, to close to the blue angels, the ‘green’ arrows, same again (only different), the ‘green goddesses’, nope they were fire engines, then I thought ‘the lean green aerobaticing machines’ or ‘The Green Machines’ for short. ‘That’ll do, problem sorted’.
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