Post by Dave Homewood on Oct 7, 2023 23:01:27 GMT 12
An interesting article from The Press dated 9th of December 1964:
R.A.F. SAFETY SYSTEM IS SIMPLE
(Special Crspdt. N.Z.P.A.) WADDINGTON (Lincolnshire), December 8.
The tortuous system of matching keys, radio locks and officers on the ground and in the air checking up on each other — the system used in the United States to prevent accidental nuclear war — has no place in the Royal Air Force. A safety catch turned by a fighter pilot’s thumb is all that prevents him from launching, by fore-finger pressure on the white trigger of his control column, an infrared missile which he can arm simply by flicking down a switch by his right knee.
A similar, simple mechanical device guards the H-bomber captain from unleashing his weapon accidentally. This chillingly fine margin between peace and holocaust is hardly considered by the young men who fly Britain’s supersonic fighters and nuclear bombers.
Aircraft which regularly scramble from their East of England bases out over the North Sea to be ready to counter Russian air movements are in constant voice contact with their operational commands, master radar station and, if necessary, the Prime Minister himself.
A voice order alone would be sufficient authority for a Vulcan bomber crew to arm their aircraft. The over-riding responsibility for releasing the bomb belongs to the plane captain, and the plane captain alone; and the crew take orders only from him.
Although Wing Commander M. A. D’Arcy, officer commanding 44 Bomber Squadron, is only in his late thirties he has under his control eight Vulcans ready night and day to strike into the deep territory of the Soviet Union.
How does he feel about it?
“The difficult thing for most people to appreciate is that this is a professional undertaking. I know I would only have to launch a bomb if a nuclear device had been launched against my own country and in those circumstances I would have no compunction,” he says.
Wing Commander D’Arcy has commanded 44 Squadron for the last five months. Until June he flew Hunters. He flies Vulcans at least twice a week himself and has logged 2500 hours as first pilot in his 20 years’ service.
In the circumstances, it is more than mildly relieving to note that R.A.F. crews, although young, give the impression of being an unusually stable, cool lot.
In Waddington the youngest bomber captain is 23, the eldest 43. The eldest is a New Zealander, Flight Lieutenant John Stanley. Another New Zealander at this Vulcan station is Flight Lieutenant R. Gleason, of Feilding, who was training at Wigram during the command of Group Captain F. R. Dix eight years ago.
Although within its 17,000 yard perimeter Waddington hums like the armed camp it is, domestic life goes on as if war and its preparations did not exist. It takes 3000 men to run the three Vulcan squadrons at Waddington, and they have 4500 dependants living on the station with them.
What about the women? Do they lose sleep at nights worrying about the Russian missiles that would inevitably home on to the station if war came?
Not a bit of it: they are more concerned about the rising price of food and getting a table at the weekly dance in the glamorous surroundings of the station's Raven Club.
R.A.F. SAFETY SYSTEM IS SIMPLE
(Special Crspdt. N.Z.P.A.) WADDINGTON (Lincolnshire), December 8.
The tortuous system of matching keys, radio locks and officers on the ground and in the air checking up on each other — the system used in the United States to prevent accidental nuclear war — has no place in the Royal Air Force. A safety catch turned by a fighter pilot’s thumb is all that prevents him from launching, by fore-finger pressure on the white trigger of his control column, an infrared missile which he can arm simply by flicking down a switch by his right knee.
A similar, simple mechanical device guards the H-bomber captain from unleashing his weapon accidentally. This chillingly fine margin between peace and holocaust is hardly considered by the young men who fly Britain’s supersonic fighters and nuclear bombers.
Aircraft which regularly scramble from their East of England bases out over the North Sea to be ready to counter Russian air movements are in constant voice contact with their operational commands, master radar station and, if necessary, the Prime Minister himself.
A voice order alone would be sufficient authority for a Vulcan bomber crew to arm their aircraft. The over-riding responsibility for releasing the bomb belongs to the plane captain, and the plane captain alone; and the crew take orders only from him.
Although Wing Commander M. A. D’Arcy, officer commanding 44 Bomber Squadron, is only in his late thirties he has under his control eight Vulcans ready night and day to strike into the deep territory of the Soviet Union.
How does he feel about it?
“The difficult thing for most people to appreciate is that this is a professional undertaking. I know I would only have to launch a bomb if a nuclear device had been launched against my own country and in those circumstances I would have no compunction,” he says.
Wing Commander D’Arcy has commanded 44 Squadron for the last five months. Until June he flew Hunters. He flies Vulcans at least twice a week himself and has logged 2500 hours as first pilot in his 20 years’ service.
In the circumstances, it is more than mildly relieving to note that R.A.F. crews, although young, give the impression of being an unusually stable, cool lot.
In Waddington the youngest bomber captain is 23, the eldest 43. The eldest is a New Zealander, Flight Lieutenant John Stanley. Another New Zealander at this Vulcan station is Flight Lieutenant R. Gleason, of Feilding, who was training at Wigram during the command of Group Captain F. R. Dix eight years ago.
Although within its 17,000 yard perimeter Waddington hums like the armed camp it is, domestic life goes on as if war and its preparations did not exist. It takes 3000 men to run the three Vulcan squadrons at Waddington, and they have 4500 dependants living on the station with them.
What about the women? Do they lose sleep at nights worrying about the Russian missiles that would inevitably home on to the station if war came?
Not a bit of it: they are more concerned about the rising price of food and getting a table at the weekly dance in the glamorous surroundings of the station's Raven Club.
