Five Part Series On RNZAF Vampires

[Dave Homewood]

I just came across this five-part series of articles on the RNZAF Vampires that ran in The Press newspaper daily from the 30th of May 1953 till the 4th of June 1953.

DOMINION’S JET FIGHTERS

Vampires Flown By Young New Zealanders

OPERATIONAL FLIGHTS BY NO. 75 SQUADRON

[By GARRY BARKER and A. P. McVEIGH, two reporters of “The Press” who recently spent several days with 75 Squadron at the R.N.Z.A.F. Station, Ohakea.]

(I)

Four young men crossed the apron in front of a huge concrete hangar to four silver squat Vampire jet fighters at the Royal New Zealand Air Force station, Ohakea, one morning recently. The sky was blanketed with cloud, and the atmosphere was warm. After they had duely examined the aircraft the men twisted into their parachutes and climbed into the cockpits. The routine drill — the lightning check of many instruments —began, and the engines were started.

A chorus of high pitched wails rose from the D.H. Goblin engines, rending the air. Flames and vapour charged from the outlets and heat waves simmered above the ground. At the signal of an upturned thumb, the tarmac equipment was cleared, the pitch of the engines changed to a throbbing scream, and the aircraft surged forward.

After forming at one end of a 7000 ft paved runway the leading aircraft raced along the ground followed at 10 second intervals by the other three. Well within two minutes they had disappeared. All that remained was a hollow roar filling the sky as if it were a challenge to the supernal noise-maker.

To the ordinary citizen, to whom flying means travelling from one city to another in the comfort of a commercial airliner, this would seem to be a most romantic undertaking; but to the pilots of No. 75 Squadron, a unit of New Zealand’s fighter wing, it was an everyday occurrence.

A Weighty Responsibility
As each plane was swallowed in the grey, brown-tinged cloud bank, and orders began to crackle over the radio, the pilots concentrated on their flying, knowing that even a careless move could cause disruption or even disaster.

They knew that their future lay in their own hands and that the final decision was their own. These young men. whose average age is under 21, held a responsibility that would shake many of the most hardened businessmen. At their command was a machine worth £30,000, the product of life-times of engineering skill, patience, invention, and perseverance.

Flying through cloud demands the full concentration of the pilot, but once the layer is passed it is less trying. Bursting from the murk hanging over the earth is like entering a fresh, clear, clean world where the sun always shines.

Above the cloud the leader circled, waiting for his flight to form beside him. The aircraft climbed to 30,000 feet at 2500 feet a minute. From this altitude the peaks of Egmont and Ruapehu could be seen poking through the cloud, looking like small islands a few miles apart in an immense sea of soap suds.

On a cloudless day it is possible to see nearly all the North Island and as far south as Banks Peninsula, and from above Napier the runways of Ohakea, nearly 100 miles away, can be picked out.

Freezing Air
After 25 minutes of flying frost begins forming on the insides of the cockpit windows. The temperature outside was equal to more than 80 degrees of frost (the temperature of -65 degrees Centigrade varies very little from 30,000 feet up) - but the pilots, wearing nothing except singlets and briefs under their flying suits, were sweating. A man exposed at that height would die of cold, lack of oxygen, and lack of air pressure in a few seconds. The pilots inside their cabins were warm and safe.

If the cockpit canopy blew off at this height the pilot would be subjected to explosive decompression. That is, the pressure in his cabin would be reduced in an instant to that of the rarefied atmosphere outside. And well-equipped though he is, he would probably be severely frost-bitten before he was able to lose height.

Strain on Ears
Their exercises completed, and another 20 minutes of the flight gone, the pilots began the long, zig-zag sweeps of letting down across the island. As the planes lost altitude at 5000 feet a minute, the pressure on the pilots’ ears increased and they were continually clearing them by swallowing and blowing to save ear drums from popping.

When the cloud was at last pierced at 5000 feet, the aircraft were flying towards the field from a point a few miles out to sea. One by one the jets flew across the station and effortlessly banked away into the landing circuit. With the air brakes open, the planes lost speed and altitude and, in turn, crossed a few feet above a fence at the end of the runway, touching down on the main wheels at a little more than 100 miles an hour.

Each pilot then had to decide whether he could slow down his aircraft sufficiently to make the right angle turn over 6000 feet away. If the pilot thought he could not stop the plane in time he would open the throttle and go round the circuit again. The decision to land made, the wheel brakes were applied spasmodically as the aircraft swept along the runway. Finally coming to a gracefully bouncing halt at the end of the strip.

The aircraft swung hard to the right and taxied quickly towards the hangar. As each plane was lined up, its motor dying, a fuel tanker and several people raced to it. The pilots climbed out looking rather weary, their faces flushed and deeply grooved by the oxygen masks. Four other pilots wandered across the tarmac to the parked Vampires, greeting their fellow flyers with some remark (usually sarcastic) about airmanship. Five minutes later the fresh pilots began the external check of the aircraft. Inside 10 minutes the jets, one by one, were again speeding down the long strip.

(To Be Continued.)

[Dave Homewood]

The Press, 1 June 1953

FLIGHT NEAR SONIC WALL

N.Z.’s Vampire Pilots Reach “Buffeting”

COMPRESSIBILITY EFFECTS ON CONTROLS

[By GARRY BARKER and A. P. McVEIGH, two reporters of “The Press” who recently spent several days with 75 Squadron at the R.N.Z.A.F. Station, Ohakea.]

(II)

In the film “The Sound Barrier” a pilot diving a prototype of a modern fighter in an attempt to travel faster than sound found it impossible to control the aircraft in the normal way once he was within a point or two of Mach 1 (the speed of sound). He crashed. Another pilot repeated the manoeuvre, but when he reached the edge of the “wall” he pushed the stick forward, exceeded the speed of sound, regained control, and lived to tell others how it was done.

Practically everyone who visits Ohakea demands an explanation of this from the pilots. The pilots say they hold the stick rigid, giving the following reason:

At very high speeds when a pilot is experiencing difficulty in controlling his aircraft the action of pulling back on the stick may worsen the situation because a large increase in the resultant angle of attack could remove what little flight stability was left. Easing the stick forward or, more correctly, relaxing the backward pressure, and so decreasing the angle of attack would allow recovery to be effected slowly at a lower altitude where, due to temperature rise and a higher local speed of sound, the loss of control effects diminish. An aircraft diving vertically near 40,000 feet at a speed of 660 miles an hour is level with the speed of sound, but at a lower altitude the same diving speed of the aircraft would be well below the local speed of sound, which is 760 miles an hour.

Rough Riding
In New Zealand’s Vampires, pilots practising Mach runs follow a much different procedure from that in the film. The run is normally started from 35,000 feet. The throttle is opened and then the nose is eased down into a shallow dive of between 15 and 20 degrees. The plane quickly gathers speed and the first indication of compressibility (when the speed of the air over the wings exceeds the speed of sound), is a feeling of instability, sloppiness of controls, and a tendency for the nose to lift. A few seconds later the pilot experiences a sensation once solely reserved for riders of buckjumpers. The nose drops, then lurches up, then drops again, and during these high jinks, the pilot is happy that he is securely strapped in. This is what has become familiarly known as “buffeting, a terrifying ordeal for a person not used to such antics.

One of these reporters dived in a dual Vampire from 25,000 feet. The pilot pushed the throttle forward, and after sufficient speed had been built up, he eased the nose down. The Mach indicator crept round to the compressibility zone. At .82 (about 600 miles an hour), the plane began plunging and rearing like an unbroken horse, and then leaned to starboard. The throttle was closed, the dive brakes were opened, and the violence ended. As the speed was reduced, effective control was restored to the pilot's hands.

During this 7000-foot dive, a manoeuvre which seemed to take only a few seconds, the stick was neither pushed forward nor pulled back. It was held firmly in the original position to help prevent longitudinal instability developing. Compressibility, causing the loss of control and porpoising begins when the air, having reached the speed of sound, ceases to flow evenly, but boils up over the wings and destroys the smooth flow of air over the tail plane.

If the pilot had pulled the stick-back to pull out of the dive at full speed he would have increased the angle of attack. That is, the aircraft itself would be traveling in the original direction of the dive but its attitude in that dive would change to a more nose-up position, increasing the distance the air would have to travel over the wings and, therefore, speeding it up even further.

Had the pilot pushed the stick forward (as in the film), the nose would have gone down further and the speed would have been increased until the vice Mach number (over .83 on the dial) was reached. The aircraft’s behaviour would have been unpredictable had that happened, and in an extreme case the structure could be strained.

Individual Characteristics
Each type of aircraft (and often individual aircraft of one model) has its own characteristics which complicates the subject even further. For instance, the nose-up or nose-down trim, the first warning of compressibility, may occur as low as .75 Mach on some aircraft. The dual Vampire, heavier and longer, and more ungainly looking, but having the same power plant, has a higher Mach number than the single-seater. And the only explanation given at Ohakea for this is that it has a different weight distribution and cleaner lines.

The popular theory has been circulated that when a plane reaches compressibility in a dive, it is nearing the speed of sound. This is not necessarily true. Vampires, faster in level flight than any piston-engined plane ever built, are not really within hailing distance of Mach 1. The best speed they can reach is about 600 miles an hour. (The Vampire is not to be confused with the partly secret, and probably faster, Venom, of similar appearance.)

Spitfire Dives Faster
A war-time Spitfire was capable of diving to .89 Mach in a vertical dive. It had, of course, very clean lines, but its maximum level flight speed was only about 400 miles an hour. A Vampire can do well over 500 miles an hour flying level. Pierre Clostermann in his book, “Flames in the Sky,” says a P. 38 Lightning reached 800 miles an hour in a test dive in the United States during the war. Officers at Ohakea know of no such feat.

Several types of aircraft have exceeded the speed of sound, including the combat-tested Sabre which has a limiting Mach number of about 1.03 (an early model). But this speed can only be attained in a steep dive. An aircraft with tremendous power and having fat wings may get compressibility when it is travelling at only 450 miles an hour. With razor-fine wings another aircraft equally as powerful might not be buffeted until it is travelling at 700 miles an hour. It depends mainly on the shape of the wings and tail surfaces. The rocket-propelled Bell X-I aircraft, which has exceeded 1000 miles an hour, has stubby, razor-thin wings, parts of which were machined from solid aluminium.

Speed at high altitude passes almost unnoticed. But more than 500 miles an hour at tree-top level is another story. The ground hurtles past the wings in a blur and what should be, by the standards of the earthlings, a distant object, appears with startling suddenness. There is a slight regular bumping, but always there is the feeling of complete security and ease of control. Riding the Vampire at this speed down low is, except for the lack of noise in the cockpit, reminiscent of driving a hard sprung sports car over a slightly corrugated road.

(To be continued.)

[Dave Homewood]

The Press, 2 June 1953

SAFETY OF VAMPIRE JET FIGHTERS

Pilots’ Confidence In Their Aircraft

ADVANTAGES OF GAS TURBINE POWER

By BARKER and A. P. McVEIGH, two reporters of "The Press,” who spent several days with 75 Squadron at the R.N.Z.A.F. Station, Ohakea.

Any one of the pilots using the Vampire at Ohakea will, in discussing his impressions of the aircraft, make as his first point the complete safety of the aircraft. The Vampire, he will say, is easy, perhaps deceptively easy, to fly. It is docile, tractable, and has no vices. To the pilot it represents something approaching the ideal aircraft—a machine in which he may place his trust and may fly with confidence.

The Vampire, the pilot says, has effortless speed, a very satisfactory rate of climb and manoeuvrability combined with lightness of control. Pilot comfort, a factor sometimes sacrificed in a fighting plane, has not been forgotten in the Vampire, and the pilot’s confidence is further bolstered by a pressurised cabin, a sound oxygen system, and a cockpit heating and ventilating system.

Compared with the piston-engined aircraft flown during World War II the cockpit lay-out of the Vampire is simplicity itself. The pilot is left free to concentrate on pure flying rather than on the mechanics of his aircraft, a convenience of some importance to a fighter pilot who is his own flight engineer, navigator, gunner, bomb-aimer, and radio operator. One of the officers of 75 Squadron remarked that given the range he could fly a Vampire from one end of New Zealand to the other and be sure that all his navigation was “spot on.”

But lavish though they are in their praise of the aircraft, all the pilots realise its limitations. First, the Vampire was not designed to penetrate the sonic barrier (the single-seater has a limiting Mach number of approximately .78 and the dual of .82), and any attempt to force the machine beyond its limit would induce compressibility effects (the loss of control, porpoising, caused when the speed of the air over the wings rises above that of sound and disturbs the flow over the tail surfaces] for which the aircraft was not stressed.

At high altitudes the Vampire flies at a speed not too far from the sonic barrier, and the pilots are told, and soon realise, that it is not difficult, when diving or manoeuvring, to lose control in compressibility. But with the correct recovery techniques control of the aircraft is immediately regained.

Vampire v. Mustang
There has arisen in this country the rumour that pilots prefer the piston-engined Mustang, a top line fighter in the last war, to the Vampire. Two of the American-built aircraft are attached to 75 Squadron. Pilots who have flown both types state emphatically their preference for the jet.

“The Vampire’s performance is infinitely superior to the Mustang’s,” one officer said. “There is no comparison.”

There are many reasons for this choice, but primarily because, pilots say, the Vampire “feels nicer to fly.” Without becoming technical it can be said that it would be almost impossible to get from a piston-engined aircraft a performance to equal that of the Vampire. Another advantage from the pilot’s point of view is the very reliable. uncomplicated engine—failure of the Goblin is almost unknown. Both aircraft were, of course, designed for different jobs.

Power Outputs Compared
A comparison of the power output of jet engines and piston types is interesting. A jet engine’s output is measured as pounds static thrust, and a piston engine is rated in terms of shaft horsepower delivered by the engine to the propeller. With the piston engine power is lost in flight because the propeller cannot transmit all the available power of the engine into thrust.

As thrust horsepower is a measure of the rate of doing work, it is possible to compare the two types of engine at a certain aircraft speed. At 375 miles an hour, a jet engine producing 3300 lb thrust can be said to be producing 3300 horsepower. Conversely, if 3300 lb thrust was required to propel a theoretical aircraft at 375 miles an hour, then 3300 horsepower would be required from the propeller of the piston type. Allowing a maximum efficiency of 80 per cent, from the propeller it can now be calculated that an engine delivering more than 4100 shaft horsepower would be required. At speeds of over 400 miles an hour the piston engine-propeller combination loses efficiency, and at speeds near the sub-sonic area the propeller efficiency drops to approximately 50 per cent. With such poor transmitting efficiency the piston engine so required would be of such a size and weight that it would be a designer’s nightmare.

With the jet engine it is a different tale: as designed aircraft speed increases there is a marked rise in propulsive efficiency and shaft horsepower developed. It is worthy to note that when a Vampire is cruising at 500 miles an hour the thrust horsepower developed is well over 4000. The power-weight ratio of the two types of engines further demonstrates the effectiveness of the gas turbine. The Goblin engine used in the Vampire weighs about 1750 lb, giving a ratio at high speeds of over 2 h.p. per lb. The engine in the Mustang produces at best little more than 1 h.p. per lb at any speed, a ratio never exceeded by any great margin in piston engines.

One of the disadvantages of the jet is its high fuel consumption at medium speeds and altitudes. However, as both these increase the disadvantage is lost. If a Vampire were to fly at 300 feet and at a fairly low speed its maximum endurance, including take-off and landing, would be only 65 minutes. If it flew most of the time at 30,000 feet the endurance would be 115 minutes or more and it would cover twice the distance in miles.

Essentially the jet engine is for high speeds at high altitudes. Because of the influence of ram effect and the very low air temperature engine efficiency is improved and it is possible to provide the designer with high power outputs at a height where decrease in airframe drag allows faster cruising speeds. A piston engine, being relatively unaffected by ram effect, rapidly loses power with altitude owing to a decrease in air density. Though this power loss can be restored by supercharging, the overall effect is a decrease in power because the supercharger itself absorbs power and propeller efficiency falls off with altitude and high speeds.

On the piston-engined aircraft’s side is its superior take-off performance. At low speeds when the ram effect is not so great the jet engine appears to lack power.

The Problem of Drag
One of the many headaches which have become the lot of the modern aircraft designer is the problem created by the drag of air on the aircraft. If an aircraft, theoretically, flying at 300 miles an hour is held back by 1000 lb of drag it will require 1000 lb of thrust horsepower to propel it at 300 miles an hour. As the speed increases the drag increases by the square law and the thrust required to balance the drag becomes very great. When the aircraft gets beyond .7 Mach it enters a zone of disproportionately high drag, which demands an enormous amount of thrust to overcome. This area is known as the sonic barrier. After Mach 1 has been passed the drag falls off, but it never resumes its original proportion to the speed.

Another Barrier: Thermal
Beyond the sonic barrier is another “wall,” perhaps even more difficult to pierce. This is the thermal barrier. The rise in temperature caused by speed in an aircraft travelling at 400 miles an hour is approximately 28 degrees Centigrade; and as the speed increases, the temperature climbs rapidly until at 800 miles an hour it is about 100 degrees. Even in the Vampire there is a considerable rise in temperature, and in a faster aircraft a refrigeration plant would be required to keep the pilot from roasting.

Vampire’s Manoeuvrability
Because of its relatively high speed, manoeuvres in the Vampire occupy a a very large amount of space. A turn made at 400 miles an hour covers a circle nearly 10 miles in diameter, and a high speed loop needs about 7000 ft. These are fairly gentle moves and the figures given must be counted as maximums rather than usual. The limiting factor in manoeuvres and aerobatics is the force known to pilots as “G”—the centrifugal pressure exerted on the pilot and the machine in a turn. In a particularly violent action the blood can be drained from the pilot’s brain by this force, causing a black-out. The greater the pilot’s physical fitness the greater number of Gs he can withstand without becoming unconscious. Fortunately, the pilot regains consciousness soon after the aircraft straightens out, and the force is removed.

From the pilot’s angle the Vampire has delightful handling qualities, requiring very little effort to complete steep turns, rolls, and other aerobatics. It stalls at a low speed (90 miles an hour) and is stable over a varying fuel load. This latter feature is important, for many World War II fighters were inclined to be difficult to fly to operational limits with a full load of fuel.

(To Be Continued.)

[Dave Homewood]

The Press, 3 June 1953

JET PILOTS ARE NOT SUPERHUMAN

Ill-Informed Theories Are Widespread

EFFECT ON THE MORALE OF POTENTIAL FLYERS

By GARRY BARKER and A. P. McVEIGH, two reporters of "The Press," who spent several days with 7S Squadron at the R.N.Z.A.F. Station, Ohakea.

(IV)

What does the average person know about the young men who fly New Zealand’s jet aircraft? Are they superhuman, mentally and physically? Or are they ordinary, balanced individuals with definite emotions, definite attitudes and moods?

These reporters asked 50 people of various ages and standing what they thought of New Zealand’s jet pilots and jet flying in general, and, although the answers were varied, not one person considered that a pilot could be a normal, sensible human being engaged in a profession that is daily becoming more popular and more essential.

Three businessmen were unanimous. “They’re mad,” they said. The businessmen did admit, however, that they knew very little about jet flying. Two young men wished they could be pilots. “Death-level excitement for us,” said one who was astride a high-powered motor-cycle. A university student simply shuddered and changed the subject. A housewife said: “Oh, it’s cruel. No human frame was meant to stand that strain. I have read about those men losing their hearing and their hair turning grey before reaching 30 after flying those things.” The immediate reaction of the majority of the others questioned was a blank look and a hint of “Why ask me?” Primary schoolboys showed virtually no interest.

Morale-Damaging Opinions
Lack of interest by the public does not bother officers at Ohakea, but the opinions held by the average person about the dangers of jet flying do. Theories that a pilot needs a super-scientific mind and a superman physique do exist in England today, and the R.A.F. has, on several occasions, condemned such ill-informed statements as damaging to the morale of potential flyers. In New Zealand senior officers have known of similar theories being spread by people not in a position to know the true facts. A squadron leader said furiously:

"Statements like that are simply rubbish. These pilots know exactly what to expect when they come here. The word ‘jet’ seems to have an out-of-this-world touch about it to many. People become frightened when it is mentioned, probably because a jet engine screams and the aircraft travels faster than a piston-engined plane. More is demanded from a pilot today than a few years ago, but his training is sound and he will find jet flying easy and enjoyable.”

Other pilots displayed annoyance, disgust, and even amusement when the same point was raised; A 19-year-old pilot who has been flying Vampires for less than a month said: “It can be dangerous if you like to make it so. Riding a bicycle in the middle of a busy street is also dangerous. The aircraft are reliable, so if anything goes wrong it is probably your fault. Make no serious mistakes and you are perfectly safe."

Swift, Sure Decisions
Essentially a scientific man, a pilot thinks little of Neitzsche, Freud, Marx, Picasso and Blake, and therefore can often be more refreshing to listen to than so many of his junior university contemporaries who have had an extravagant and ill-timed bite of favourite college dishes. He thinks clearly, quickly, correctly; his imagination is active and balanced. His life and work being so vastly different from that of his brothers on the ground, perhaps it is not difficult to understand why he shies away from or is so obviously bored with the intellectuals’ food.

Quite often he faces a new challenge when flying. Reference books, guides, well-worded solutions are not forthcoming. Thoughts are deeply grooved in his subconscious mind: one life, one aircraft, which has one engine, one decision and that to be made in one second, perhaps. The experienced pilot relies on his reflexes, which work faster than thought. The man becoming experienced must solve the problem in his mind. The next time he will know exactly what to do without hesitation.

In No. 75 Squadron there are, excluding the senior officers, 14 pilots, together with those on the conversion course. Their average age is under 21. An early surface impression gained by an outsider is that they are callous, reckless and foolish; but this conception is soon drowned once they are known more intimately. Then one finds them skilful, intelligent, and daring and confident of their own ability and of their aircraft’s reliability. And confident, too, are the commanding officers.

(To be Concluded.)

[Dave Homewood]

The Press, 4 June 1953

FROM PROPELLER TO JET

Pilots Experience Little Difficulty

SUPPORT FOR TROOPS AT 500 MILES AN HOUR

[By GARRY BARKER and A. P. McVEIGH, two reporters of "The Press," who recently spent several days with 75 Squadron at the R.N.Z.A.F. Station, Ohakea.]

(V)

When the pilots of No. 75 Squadron walked across the tarmac to fly their first solo in a Vampire all suffered from a common nervous complaint: jitters. None will deny that the sanguine attitude they display now was developed quickly, however. About one-quarter of a class trained at Taieri and Wigram come to the Fighter Wing. At first they are lectured on many subjects dealing with the Vampire’s engine (D.H. Goblin 3). The fueling, pneumatic, electrical, oxygen, pressurisation, and ventilation systems of the aircraft are explained. Time is spent sitting in the seat of the aircraft on the ground, the pilot familiarising himself with the many instruments, dials, lights, switches, so when flying he can reach for a knob without a moment’s hesitation. Several flights with an instructor in a dual Vampire are made. The pupil pilot flies the aircraft and the instructor points out mistakes and offers advice.

Before he makes his first solo the pilot must know thoroughly his emergency drill for parachuting and crash landing. And just as thoroughly he must know the engine’s limit, the fuel consumption at different speeds and at different altitudes (it varies considerably). Emergency, drill to be followed if the canopy blows off and the pilot is exposed to the rarefied air is described by the medical officer. If this did happen at 30,000 feet the pilot would close the throttle, open the air brakes, switch his oxygen on to emergency, lower his seat, tuck his head low, and make for 15,000 feet. This would appear to be the pilot’s greatest worry. The thought of hurtling through space, which has a temperature equal to 80 degrees of frost on the ground, would freeze most people without their actually experiencing it. To the pilot it is one of the many thoughts he carries in his mind; but he never lets it frighten him.

On his first solo he spends about 30 minutes in the air practising stalling at 10,000 feet. He learns the local flying areas (Ohakea area: 100 miles radius of station). Aerobatics and high speed runs are attempted at high altitude on his third or fourth flight, and low flying, bad weather circuiting, instrument flying (done in a trainer), and controlled let-downs come next. Later there is night flying.

Cross country exercises are carried out fairly often. The aircraft go from Ohakea to New Plymouth, Lake Taupo, Napier, and back to the field (about 375 miles) in about one hour at 30,000 feet. Low-level runs are preferred by the pilots. Taking off at five minute intervals, they head for the King Country, 250 feet above the ground, lifting the nose now and then to skim a hill or tall tree.

High speed, low-level flying is even more hair-raising. This is done in an area near the mouth of the Rangitikei river. Here the pilots come down even lower over the sand dunes and pine trees, gobbling up the country at more than 500 miles an hour. This is an important phase of the pilots’ training. The Vampire aircraft, as used in New Zealand, is designed as a ground support fighter and not a high altitude interceptor, as many people in New Zealand believe. It could not compete with any of the fast-climbing, super-sonic fighters like Sabres, Hunters, Javelins, or MiG’s built in the last few years. But once a pilot has learned to handle the Vampire he will have little difficulty in flying competently the faster jets. The conversion course lasts about two months. During that time the pilot has had 20 hours of lectures and 25 to 30 hours of flying. Once he completes the course he goes on to another —operational flying. He is taught lo fly in tactical formation: he is taught to use his aircraft as a weapon.

(Concluded)

[davidd]

Nice find Dave H, I think these articles give a pretty good idea of the early days of our Vampires, and their pilots and instructors. Incidentally, our Vampires serviceability rate in these early days was not very high, in fact the lowest of all our aircraft, with the persons responsible for compiling these statistics observing that the highest serviceability rate among all RNZAF aircraft at the time were credited to the Tiger Moths, with a huge margin to spare. There were good reasons for this of course!

[Dave Homewood]

I have just spent a couple of days in Auckland where I interviewed a couple of Vampire pilots and a Vampire engine mechanic who served in these early days in NZ and Cyrus, and two of them also went to Tengah. Really fascinating hearing about those earliest days of the jet era of the RNZAF. Amazing guys, all now in their 90's.

[oj]

Fascinating. I learned more from this than fours years at Ohakea working on the kerosene-dripping machines!
Problem was, when we joined as boy entrants in 1962 and signed the Official Secrets Act, we were prohibited from discussing the performance of our aircraft.
Everyone else could just read Jaynes "All the World's Aircraft".
We were so compliant then; but wiser now, hence my refusal to be intimidated by all the covid nonsense.