Also due at Duxford next weekend was another French owned and registered 'warbird' the only flying Breguet Alizé. But as the IWM just posted on FB;
" We regret to announce that the 1050 Alizé will no longer be displaying at the Duxford Battle of Britain Air Show next weekend. While we always aim to deliver a full and exciting flying programme, aircraft participation is subject to a range of operational as well as logistical factors and subject to change. We’re continuing to work hard to bring together the best possible flying list for the show and look forward to welcoming you to IWM Duxford..."
Back in April though the Alizé Marine Association already announced the premature end of operations by its rare Breguet Br-1050 Alize ex-French Navy carrier-based anti-submarine warfare aircraft as reported on the European airshows website;
"..The Association Alizé Marine, owner/operator of the world’s last remaining airworthy Breguet Br-1050 announced that as of 30 April 2023, Alizé No.59 (F-AZYI) will be grounded. The Association is being forced out of its hangar at Nîmes Grande Provence Méditerranée airport by the municipal authority, which owns the airport and has not provided any alternative accommodation..[..] Alizé Marine will hold an extraordinary general meeting, at which it will consider the possibility of liquidation... "
Then in May Key Aero reported that the historic anti-submarine warfare aircraft had found a temporary new home. On 19 May, it was ferried to Base Aérienne 701 at Salon de Provence, where the French Air Force offered hangarage for a limited period. The Alizé appeared at the Patrouille de France aerobatic team’s 70th anniversary airshow the following weekend.
In a statement on Facebook, Alizé Marine added that, “for operational reasons”, it will probably have to move to Cuers-Pierrefeu airfield at “an undetermined date”, this being the location where numerous current French Navy aircraft types receive major maintenance. The association went on to say that it still hopes to negotiate “a permanent hangarage solution” back at Nîmes, where serial 59 — which has been flying as a civilian aeroplane since 2013 — was based during its active Aéronautique Navale career.
So there was a very good chance all along that the Alizé was not going to make it to the UK, which is a shame. For one, there are very few aircraft still flying powered by the Rolls Royce Dart. Having said that, the Breguet was at Le Bourget back in June, which is where I took this photo..
A 'Kermie-Cam' tour around the MAM in Virginia Beach with facility director Keegan. A single click to view here..
" ..when you're in a hangar picking up a cool airplane, a lot of times there's some other interesting stuff in there.."
Messerschmitt 'bubble' car
TBM Avenger - "..a pussy-cat to fly but I forgot how heavy the ailerons were... [..].. what's amazing about it is how big it looks and how the small the engine is..(1600 hp)
"..this is our favorite as it was stationed here during the war..although there wasn't a town in Virginia Beach at that time.." FM-2 Wildcat (built by General Motors).
MAM PBY has been flying consistently for some 80 years...
"..A Sea Vixen that landed at Valley one day did it's best to disprove something called laminar flow was useful for flight....the right wing being opened up to give a credible impression of a sardine can.....somebody will doubtless know the full story, but apparently caused by a brief, but passionate, contact with something solid on "Eagle"...."
Posted by John Eacott on PRunE;
" ..25th January 1971, I was stealing a jolly in the left seat of the planeguard Wessex (XS888) when Vixen 123 lined up a bit too far to starboard while landing and hit 3 parked cabs on deck. Managed a bolter and was diverted to Valley. The finding was the low level sortie had allowed too much salt buildup on the pilot's windscreen affecting his visibility, compounded by the ship's heading into a setting sun (midwinter about 16:00 local)...."
Posted by QWIN on PRunE;
" E-J and I had launched off Eagle mid afternoon to do low level radar intercepts against another Sea Vixen in the Irish Sea. Because the Vixen radar could not see targets well looking down against the sea, the recognised technique was for the fighter to fly low to pick up the target. It was a fairly rough January day over the Irish Sea and during the course of the sortie we accumulated a fair amount of salt spray on the windscreen. The Sea Vixen dispersed rain from the windscreen with a hot air blowing system...no wipers, no washers. This did nothing to remove the salt layer, but that was OK E-J could see well enough to get us home to “mother” with no problem. All was well until we turned finals for the deck and came back to landing speed, this raised the nose and this combined with the fact that the ship was steaming straight into the setting sun turned the slightly opaque windscreen into a white sheet through which E-J could see absolutely nothing. He called for a voice talkdown, this was a practised procedure whereby the landing sight officer (LSO) gave instructions over the radio to allow you to land on the deck when you could not see the “landing sight”.
We missed the wires on the first 2 attempts to land and before the final approach E-J and I discussed the fact that if we missed the next time we needed to divert to RAF Valley. On the 3rd approach we were about 400 yards from the back of the deck when the LSO's radio failed....Flyco (the ultimate authority over deck operations) decided that we were too close to safely be instructed to “wave off” or go around. Instead he took over the talkdown but without the accurate references available to the LSO. The net result was that we came over the back end further right than we should have been, only about 22ft but it shows the accuracy required. I was aware that we were further right than I had ever seen before through my back seater's small window by my right knee. We both felt a thump but the aircraft was still moving at 130 knots or so, everyone had stopped talking on the radio, I started to eject but then thought better of it as I managed to see aspects of the deck which were familiar. I called our speed and a heading to RAF Valley as we left the front of the carrier. We had concluded that we were flying and E-J was in control of the aircraft, having shared a few expletives and the fact that we had both nearly ejected. About now Flyco called “Don't eject, don't eject...check your hydraulics you have lost half your starboard wing.”
" We set off for Valley and decided we didn't have enough fuel to get there unless we raised the undercarriage to reduce our fuel consumption. So E-J selected undercarriage up at which point the aircraft turned itself violently upside down, he regained control by putting the undercarriage down again and we proceeded to land at RAF Valley very short of fuel, having found a rain shower on the way to wash the windscreen. The fact that we got this wreck safely on the ground at RAF Valley was entirely thanks to your Dad's innate skills in an aircraft, his reactions in a truly life threatening situation were instinctive and intuitive
and right. He wasn't even perspiring when we landed off this one. Some after the event issues; A Sea Vixen pilot cannot see the end of the wings from the cockpit, so it was only after we landed at Valley that we saw what we had done. 8ft of the starboard wing was missing and the aileron was hanging vertically down behind the starboard undercarriage leg...hence turning upside down when we tried to raise the gear. We got a bol****ing from OC Flying at Valley for not declaring an emergency...we thought the ship had told them. Everyone at Valley seemed to have given up smoking and we couldn't scrounge a fag from anyone. Eagle sent a helicopter to take us back on board and upon alighting on the flight deck we were instructed to report to the Captain on the bridge.
His words will live with me forever; “Not your fault E-J, bit of a c**k up in here.” Turning to me he said “So you're a crab are you, that will show you what the Navy's all about. Pair of you go and see the Doc.” We had hit a Buccaneer, a fork lift truck, 2 Sea Vixens and another Buccaneer during our brief excursion along the deck of Eagle. The Doc was a famous FAA doctor whose name I will not mention. He took our pulses and blood pressures and determined that we were a bit excited, opened his desk drawer, removed a bottle of brandy and said “Drink half of that between you and I'll declare you fit to fly in the morning.” He did, and we did.
Eyton-Jones sadly lost his life during the Falklands War on a dark night in May 82. RIP
dated November 1956 De Havilland company photos. Not sure where these were taken (Farnborough?), but that's the Short Sperrin in the gloomy background..first views of the FAW. 2 WG 240
From Steve Bond's " Fleet Air Arm Boys " (Grub Street)
"..the Scimitar was a real 'hot rod' for its day ..but was quite heavy and had only small wings. It was big; the biggest single-seat aircraft operating from a carrier at that time and the last FAA machine with guns, four 30 mm cannon. It could carry four 1000 lb bombs and had a nuclear capability. Its two engines produced 23 000 Ibs of thrust which made for a very spritely acceleration....of the two types I was flying at the time, the Scimitar had the power whereas the Hunter had the manoeuvrability. But if the Scimitar was getting into trouble he could just open the throttles and disappear... we intercepted an American task force about 400 miles east of Iceland. An F-4 attempted to interfere with us, but it was no contest. Then an F-8 tried his luck but the US military was not trained in air combat manoeuvring while we were very aggressive..."
below; Supermarine Scimitar - XD 236 seen during early June 1968. This machine was lost the same month on June 26, 1968 flying into high ground in cloud on St Catherines Down, Isle of Wight killing the pilot, Naval Airman 1st class Tony Patton. Patton's radio altimeter failed in bad weather. He was flying a sortie as a target for HMS Corrunna. Adrian Balch photo
A great image of the Soviet TU-22 (NATO reporting name 'Blinder') a supersonic nuclear bomber of the Cold War. Like some NATO nuclear bombers, it also saw 'conventional' operations in smaller conflicts, such as the Iran/Iraq war and Libyan strikes against African countries. pic.twitter.com/FdIGIyvAWa
— Trev Clark's Obscure Aviation History Page . 🚁 (@clark_aviation) October 29, 2021
Mike Milne, former Weapons Engineer Officer at Royal Navy (1966-1972)
Lt Cdr John Moffat RN was one of the Swordfish pilots from HMS Ark Royal that attacked the Bismarck and is generally credited with launching the torpedo that damaged her steering gear and, consequently led to her demise at the hands of the British cruisers, which should certainly mean that he knows what he’s talking about. In his 2009 book “I Sank the Bismarck”, he had this to say about the Fairey Swordfish, which explains some of its success:
This aircraft (the Swordfish) seemed like a hangover from the 1920s, although it had actually come into service in 1936. It was a biplane, and had all sorts of struts and wires reminiscent of the First World War planes like the Avro 504 that had first excited my interest in flying. But the Battle of Britain was being fought by fast monoplanes - Hurricanes and Spitfires. They were all metal, whereas the greater part of the Swordfish, the wings and the rear fuselage, were canvas covered. It was powered by a single radial engine that gave it a top speed of barely 110 miles per hour. The Spitfire could manage over 300 quite easily. The Swordfish was a big aircraft, with a crew of three. The pilot sat in a forward open cockpit, which was high above the centre line and gave a good field of view. Behind was another cockpit, set lower in the fuselage, in which there was first the observer/navigator; then behind him the telegraphist air gunner, or TAG, who worked the radio and could fire a rear-pointed drum-fed Lewis gun. Apart from this, there was a forward-firing machine gun mounted in the fuselage behind the engine. The huge wing area gave the Swordfish the ability to carry a bomb load of almost 2,000lb, which was impressive for a single-engined plane. It was manoeuvrable at slow speed and could pull out of a dive without any trouble.
I felt that I was riding a cart horse instead of a steeplechaser at first, but the more I flew it, the more I began to appreciate its qualities. It was nicknamed the ‘Stringbag’. Several reasons are given for this, the most obvious being that at first glance it looks as though it is held together by string. This is deceptive. The main struts were made out of stainless steel, the rigging was very strong steel cable, and the frames were made of steel and duralumin, an aluminium alloy produced for aircraft production. No, I believe the Stringbag got its name because, like the old lady’s shopping bag, it expanded to accommodate whatever was demanded of it. It carried bombs, depth-charges, torpedoes, smoke flares, and they even mounted sixteen rockets under the wings in the later stages of the war. There are stories of some squadrons moving rapidly from airstrip to airstrip in the desert in North Africa, securing motorbikes underneath the fuselage of their Swordfish and then carrying them to a new location. It was a tough plane and could take an awful lot of damage, as many aircrew were to discover and be grateful for. It’s low speed was also an asset, it seemed, as our instructors told stories of Swordfish in the Norwegian campaign being attacked by Messerschmitt 109s. The British pilots employed the tactic of making 180-degree turns at sea level towards the attacking plane. The Swordfish had a much smaller turning circle than any fast fighter, and moreover it had such an advantageous lift ratio that you could reduce its speed to just 70 knots in the turn and it would continue on a perfect line. Most planes need more power to complete a turn, but not the Swordfish. The hapless Messerschmitt pilot would not know why his target had suddenly disappeared from view as he sped past.
I particularly like his explanation of why the Swordfish was nicknamed Stringbag, which wasn’t what I had previously been led to believe.
Sadly, John Moffat is no longer with us, as he died in December 2016 at the age of 97. In his sixties, after 40 years, he began flying again and celebrated his 90th birthday in June 2009 by performing aerobatics in a light aircraft. He was often the guest of honour at Fleet Air Arm Taranto Night dinners, which celebrate the attack on the Italian fleet in Taranto harbour in November 1940, when Swordfish sank several Italian capital ships. Although he hadn’t taken part in the raid, he was one of the very few remaining WWII Swordfish pilots alive at that time.
Visiting the RN Historic Flight in 2008 to get re-acquainted with the Swordfish
As guest of honour at Ark Royal's final Taranto Night event in 2010
One point only touched upon - the Swordfish was slow which meant that it could fly low near the surface of the water - low and slow was good for aiming and launching torpedoes. US torpedo bombers for example would have to slow considerably as they approached their target to get a good launch. This made them difficult to control.
Also on this blog; an annotated Swordfish bibliography;
French carrier Arromanches, and below, scenes on the flight deck of the Arromanches, off French Indochina in the Gulf of Tonkin, circa 1951. Arromanches was a light aircraft carrier of the French Navy, serving from 1946 to 1974. She was previously HMS Colossus of the Royal Navy. The carrier was home to the SB2C Helldivers of flottille 3F and the Hellcats of 11F during the Indochina war (1954)
Arromanches/Colossus was the name-ship of the Colossus class of light carriers. She was commissioned in 1944, but did not see any action in World War II. She served with the British Pacific Fleet in 1945–46, as an aircraft transport and repatriation ship. In 1946, she was loaned to the French Navy, and renamed Arromanches; she was bought by the French in 1951.
Arromanches participated in the First Indochina War in three campaigns from 1948 to 1954, and the Suez Crisis of 1956. In 1968 she was converted to an anti-submarine warfare (ASW) carrier. She was decommissioned in 1974, and broken up in 1978.
ARROMANCHES' aircraft flotille 3F (Helldivers) and 11F (Hellcats) were in action against the Viet Minh over Diên-Biên-Phu on March 13, the day the all-out assault on the camp was launched. That day just 4 Hellcats were overhead. One of them, piloted by the LV DOE of MAINDREVILLE was was lost. Following this the decision was taken to base the carrier's aircraft ashore reducing transit times and pilot workload. Their main mission was to provide Dien-Bien-Phu with maximum fire support against Viet Minh concentrations, artillery and enemy AAA and to ensure the protection of aircraft parachuting food and equipment.
Losses of the 2 flotille during this period:
- 15 March: shot down by anti-aircraft fire, LV LESPINAS of 11F was reported missing aboard his Hellcat 6 km from Dien Bien Phu.
- 31 March: LV ANDRIEUX 3F CO, shot down by anti-aircraft fire 2 km from the Gabrielle support point (KIA)
- April 9: EV LAUGIER (3F) shot down by flak aboard his Helldiver. (KIA)
- April 23: LV Bernard Klotz of 11F was hit by anti-aircraft fire. Jumping clear he was picked up on the ground by the legionnaires of the 13° DBLE. Taken prisoner by the Viet Minh when the camp fell, he was released in September.
- April 26: the Hellcat of SM ROBERT (11F) was hit by anti-aircraft fire. The latter also parachuted but fell into enemy lines. Taken prisoner, he died of exhaustion in the forced march to an internment camp.
Lt. Bernard Klotz's account of his dive-bombing sortie flown on 23 April as a preamble to a counter-attack following the loss of 'Hugette 1' to the Viets;
"...During the night of April 22-23, the enemy seized "Huguette 1". The loss of this fortified position located at the midpoint overlooking the runway was serious- the whole airfield was now dominated by Giap's artillery and by the machine-guns and mortars of his infantry. Even more serious it shrunk the size of the drop zone, reducing the space available for parachuting. The latter ensured the survival of the garrison, provided however that the personnel and equipment dropped by the transport aircraft were recoverable. As of 22 April at least a quarter of what was being parachuted was going to the Viêts. For the camp commander, the loss of "Huguette 1" was unacceptable. He decided to launch a counterattack. First of all, the occupants had to rendered stunned by a large-scale aerial bombardment which had to be effective. It was therefore the Hellcats and Helldivers that de Castries requested first and foremost. As leader of the second 'patrouille' "Savart vert" ('Savart green Leader')I started my dive from 8,000 ft (cf. Windrow p530) with two 500 lb bombs. The weather was excellent. The target was clearly visible. So was the anti-aircraft fire. I had to be very precise. Believing that my attack would not be, I aborted my first attempt and informed my comrade Goizet that I would have to repeat it. He replied that white smoke was billowing from my right wing. I wasn't happy, but the most pressing thing was to drop my bombs on the target. I released them between 2 and 3,000 feet and started to pull out. At that very moment I experienced a violent impact in my machine as my instrument panel exploded. I briefly considered landing on the earthen runway of "Isabelle" which was right in front of me about a minute's flying time away.
I had no time.. My machine was on fire....
In fact, in the seconds that followed, I lived two simultaneous lives. I was two characters at the same time, one whose leitmotif was to say "It's over", and another who would do whatever it took to make the first one lie and thought of nothing but to impose his will on fate. For each of them time had slowed down. Each second was worth a thousand normal seconds. To the first, who kept saying "I'm fucked ", he would scroll his life below and beyond the present moment at which, without a doubt, he would not survive. The second ignored that a bit of doubt, hesitation or clumsiness that would compromise his immediate goal: to get out of this aircraft before it exploded. A pilot does not like to abandon his machine, hence my first idea was to land mine, even on fire, on a nearby runway. The memory of Robin, who had experienced a similar situation on December 5, immediately dissuaded me from doing so. A parachute bail out requires some preliminary operations. First, climb, if possible, so as not to be too low when opening the parachute. At the same time, always if possible, direct the plane towards a favourable area, that is, for "him" outside our lines, but for me, close enough to them so that I did not fall into enemy hands. Two objectives that were difficult to reconcile in this particular case. Then unhook the seat harness, jettison the canopy, stand up, roll the plane - the last act of piloting - and dive into the void with enough effort to prevent the tail or rudder from hitting your head as it flashes past. Once in the atmosphere, all that remains is to deploy the chute. Despite the whining of my double pessimist, I did all of this very well, as if carrying out an exercise, except for the last but essential manoeuvre. To deploy the parachute you have to pull on a handle. It's simple. So that's what I did. But the handle came off in my hand. The cable connected to this handle was broken. The parachute would not open. I had no idea how to proceed ignoring the secrets of its functioning. While my 'double' kept up the mantra, "..this time it's really over" I stubbornly sought another solution. I imagined it lay behind my back thinking that maybe, although without seeing or knowing, I would be be able to do something manually. Instead of crossing my arms on my chest, I flung them behind me to rummage around on my back. It was at that moment, when I must have been free-falling at around 750 feet, that the parachute mush-roomed open but, as it unfolded, the lines suddenly carried my misplaced arms with them and dislocated my right shoulder..."
Klotz was rescued by Legionnaires after coming down in the camp and was taken captive on 7 May 1954 with the fall of Dien Bien Phu. He survived the long march into captivity and was finally released by the Viet Minh in September 1954.
At that time he had flown 1090 hours, carried out 180 combat sorties over Vietnam and made 187 carrier landings in the Hellcat.
This was only the start of a long career that saw him command 16F (Etendard IVP) and the French carrier Foch. His memoir covering his three tours in Vietnam was entitled "Enfer au paradis" (Ardhan)
If you missed the Grumman F7F Tigercats flying in Monday's air show at Oshkosh (and haven't seen them up close), we've got you covered! Posted via FB embed code, a single click to view the video here..
