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The
following review appeared in the December 2001 edition of 'Aeroplane';
On
the heels of Berry's excellent book on the Bristol Britannia, The Whispering
Giant in Uniform, comes this autobiographical account of his career as
an RAF pilot from 1951 to 1991, during which the author flew a range of
types from the Meteor F.8 to the Britannia. The book starts out with some
family history, and Berry's light-hearted touch is evident immediately,
the sections on his father and grandfather displaying the author's genuine
flair for comic writing. Berry's father was something of an eccentric,
and the author communicates his unique view of the world in an engaging
and often hilarious fashion. There is an abundance of stories detailing
Berry Senior's unorthodox approach to life, including his labour-saving
devices, most of which were masterpieces of theoretical design, but utterly
absurd in practice. The book continues into Berry's years as an air cadet
and an early experience of flying with an RAF Bomber Squadron in the Suez
Canal Zone, illustrated by black-and--white photographs from the author's
collection, as is the whole book. Berry then goes on to describe his Service
life in a charming and informative way, modesty quite often veiling his
obvious natural flying skill. The story concludes with Berry's retirement
from the RAF, and the setting up of Keyham Books, the enterprise which
has published his books on a number of subjects, aviation-related as well
as those on Berry's other abiding passion, motor-caravanning. I thoroughly
enjoyed this book, the author's self-effacing humour and honesty contributing
to a charming journey through an era when flying a highly-advanced fighter
was a somewhat different affair from the rather more sterile, computer-assisted,
voice-activated operation it is today. NICK STROUD
This
book has been incredibly well received by contemporaries of the author
and the wider public. Here is a selection from the comments received
and magazine reviews:
‘You owe me three hours sleep. I started at 11 o’clock and couldn’t
put it down!’ PH
‘A thoroughly good read which brought the memories flooding back ...
the realities of a hand to mouth existence offset by a very rewarding
flying career were beautifully told ...’ DB
‘... I was forcibly struck by the similarity of my Specialist Aircrew
career and yours ... impecunious, young, naive, newly weds, frightful
civilian accommodation, ad hoc separations ... but neither of us have
any regrets and wouldn’t have changed it for the world. Happy memories
of the 50s, 60s and 70s.’ PJ
‘Just a short note note to say how much I enjoyed your recent book.
In many ways it was like reading my own childhood and early RAF days
... a very good read. I enjoyed it a lot.’ GS
‘I found ‘Specialist Aircrew’ interesting reading - I learnt
a number of things about certain aspects of the RAF - and about the
history of flying!’ D C-S
‘Just a short note to say how much I enjoyed the new book. What a walk
down ‘Memory Lane’! For three days now as I’ve progressed through the
book I have relived my time at ... ... ... Thankyou very much for bringing
it all back. I shall return to my dull old library books at some time
- but they will not grip me half as much as yours.’ BS
‘A refreshingly different sort of autobiography, well documented, with
photographic memorabilia of his family as well as the author, boy and
man.The book vividly chronicles his early ambitions and follows them
through his varied and somewhat unusual RAF career, in a light-hearted
way, to his semi-retirement in the wilds of Wiltshire ... (he) is the
master of the cogent comment. Proud of his council house background,
intertwined with his personal story, he gives an illuminating account
of the RAF Long Range Transport Force during its halcyon days ... This
is an excellent book at a very attractive price. I can thoroughly recommend
it to all aviators ...’ Extracted from the review in ‘Intercom’,
the magazine of the Aircrew Association.
‘Tell your daughter, Dave, that I always thought you were famous enough.
Let’s face it, whenever we walked into a bar, there was always someone
there who seemed to know you!’ BT
‘... he has written a book that accurately represents the life story
of a typical RAF pilot of the period and many to whom it will appeal
may substitute their own experiences for Sqn Ldr Berry’s ... fascinating
glimpses of a child caught up in the throes of war ... I particularly
warmed to the letter he sent to ‘Air Clues’ in reply to an article published
by a pompous staff officer on the subject, ‘How Not to Get Promoted’,.
I’ve been there too! ... ‘Specialist Aircrew’ is richly illustrated
... The events depicted in the book in themselves are unremarkable -
many of my former colleagues mirror David’s experiences, but it is well
written and full of interest. Contemporaries will readily identify with
the humour, anecdotes, locations and with the sights and sounds he evokes
... An excellent read. I commend it to you.’ Extracted from the review
in ‘The Log’, the magazine of the British Air Line Pilots’ Association.
‘A second volume from the pen of David Berry, covering his 40 years
as an RAF pilot. While more a book of reminiscences than was his earlier
(excellent) ‘The Whispering Giant in Uniform’, ‘Specialist Aircrew’
reads well and is full of service anecdotes ... penned by an author
who is clearly a natural, this one is good value and comes recommended.’
Extracted from the review in ‘Aircraft Illustrated’.
‘Looking at the oft-forgotten era of RAF flying - the 1950s - the author
takes the reader through basic flying training, on to Gloster Meteors
and then a change of pace with the Britannia fleet. Flying on Hercules
and a spell at A&AEE wind up this interesting and often humourous read.’
Review in the magazine, ‘Flypast’.
‘... For me, and I am sure for the many others who will read it, it
brought back so many memories of our ‘formative years’ as we all struggled
through the poor pay and the ‘under 25 syndrome’ yet still managed to
cram into life a whole load of fun ... I think that had I the ability
(or patience!) to chronicle my own life as you have done, the thing
that would give the greatest satisfaction would be the thought of the
legacy I leave to future generations of my family. In this respect,
Dave, you can feel immense pride in what you have achieved. When your
great (and great-great) grandchildren read ‘Specialist Aircrew’, they
can only say, ‘Hey! He wasn’t such a boring old fart after all!!’ FM
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Below
are photographs of some moments in that 'life'. Below that again, a few
extracts from the book.
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The
start of RAF times - three pilots 'under training'.
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| The
Boscombe Down Britannia being landed at Filton, by the author, on
the occasion of the celebration of the 25th anniversary of its maiden
flight.
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Hercules
flying at Boscombe Down involved parachute trials. Some of these
took place at El Centro, California. Mrs Author goes for a flight.
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A
few extracts to give a feel for 'Specialist Aircrew'.
I was a
keen ATC cadet and I really owe it to the Corps that I subsequently
had a satisfying and enjoyable RAF career. In the book I describe my
first flight in an Avro Anson. Later there was a gliding course:
'My total flying time was increasing slowly, as proudly recorded
in my ‘Record Book’. But now it was to be added to, not with hours and
minutes, but seconds - but important ones. I was sent on a gliding course
on an old disused airfield on the Moors to the north of Plymouth. I
made my way there daily - on that ladies’ bike. I can recall that many
of the trips were in vain - and some very wet.
'The gliders we ‘flew’ were very primitive - and they must have been
very strong as our ‘instruction’ matched the basic nature of their construction.
There were no dual control machines - we were simply told what to do
and then had a go. Mind you, the ‘doing’ was very simple. The start
was being towed along the ground, on the glider’s single central wheel,
by winch and cable, and having to keep the wings level. When we were
proficient at that we were told to pull the stick back a bit and hop
into the air.
‘Hold the stick there and you’ll land back.’
'These ‘hops’ increased in height until we were ready to jettison the
towing cable and needed some serious advice on how to land. Firstly,
it was drilled into us that the nose of the glider must be pointing
down when we pulled the cable jettisoning knob.
‘Then hold the stick there and don’t pull it back until you think you
are going to hit the ground!’
'I found, in later life, that there were more sophisticated ways of
conveying the principles of landing an aircraft. The target for our
‘Gliding Licence’ was to successfully complete one of these, straight
line, flights lasting 30 seconds! Shades of Wilbur and Orville Wright?
'In this ‘macho’ setting there were other things to learn. Many of our
fellow cadet students were a lot older than us ‘school lot’ and were
ready to pass on their worldly knowledge. One ginger-haired, pimply-faced
individual, with the faintest wisp of a moustache, which he kept sweeping
out of the way with a finger, imparted some information on handling
a girl’s breasts.
‘Don’t bother with the right one - it’s only the left that does any
good.’
'What’s with this ‘good’?
'So now I was the proud possessor of a gliding licence complete with
small round blue badge with a single white gull wing. There were more
Air Training Corps ‘goodies’ in store for me when I moved on into the
VIth Form.'
At the age of 17, I was lucky enough to be awarded one of the first
ATC Flying Scholarships which took one to Private Pilot's Licence standard
- 30 hours - in a Tiger Moth!
'I progressed through the essential initial exercises - I recall
spinning being particularly bewildering - and moved on to practising
take-offs and landings. There were good days and bad but I obviously
hit on a run of good ones for my instructor to say those magic words.
‘Fancy having a go at your first solo?’
‘No, I’m too scared,’ said my heart. But I managed to suppress this
and blurt out an enthusiastic:
‘Yes please!’
'It is said that every pilot remembers their first solo; I am no exception.
It was not an ideal day; the wind was blowing in a non-prevailing direction
so we hadn’t used that particular stretch of grass in the build-up.
It was a bit short but my instructor gave a reassurance.
‘We’ll close the road at the end so it will be OK to run over it onto
the next bit of grass.’
'In later years I took my turn as an instructor so I know the feeling
when one takes the gamble - and that is what it is, essentially - of
sending Bloggs off on his own. The instruction is to take-off, complete
a circuit and land - relief all round!
'I must have caused my Tiger Moth mentor some anxiety for, on my first
approach to land, I felt I was too high - running across that road didn’t
seem a good idea to me. Around again I went and you will guess that
on my second approach I was too low. I think, at this stage Mr Instructor
probably went into the club house for a large Scotch! My third approach
was spot on.'
At the age of 18 I joined the Royal Air Force as a u/t pilot. The
first training aircraft was the Percival Prentice followed by the Harvard.
I describe one flight:
'I have done some foolish things in my life; high on the list is
low flying in The Vale of Evesham. It was our low flying area and we
were sent there, solo, to low fly - but not as low as I went. On one
occasion, with the adrenalin still pumping, it was time to return to
base. From my last low level pass, I turned in the direction of Moreton-in-Marsh.
Now, the name ‘The Vale of Evesham’ indicates that, when you leave,
there are some hills to climb. Up I went. About two thirds the way,
I realised that the rate at which the ground was rising was exceeding
the rate at which I was climbing - the throttle was hard forward. The
brow of the hill was just ahead and it did look as if I might just make
it. In an effort to increase the rate of climb, the cheeks of my ass
were squeezed hard together. With this contribution, the Harvard did
make it over the top - just! A very subdued student landed back at RAF
Moreton-in-Marsh.'
My first operational tour was on 65(F) Squadron, flying Meteor 8s in
the Day Fighter role. RAF Duxford was a RAF Station of character and
they were happy days:
'An enormous amount of time was absorbed by particular events. One
that comes to mind was a visit to RAF Duxford by the Emperor of Ethiopia,
Haile Selassie, ‘Lion of Judah, Elect of God, King of Kings of Ethiopia’;
he had numerous other titles which seemed a lot to bear for a man of
such small stature.
'The plan was that the whole of the Duxford Wing’s (64 and 65 Squadron)
aircraft would be lined up along the long aircraft apron, the pilots
and ground crew standing in front, for inspection by the eminence. We
stood there, at attention, with weeks of work on the aircraft - and
our own personal appearance. The Emperor went by on his ‘inspection’.
I have that picture of a small man wearing a uniform style hat - flat
top, peak - but it seemed huge, as did the sword which he trailed along
beside him. And not a glance, to left or right, at our pristine turnout.
'Ah well! Time to do the flying bit. Thirty two aircraft started up
- at a command they all moved forward 20 feet and, with a further prompt,
turned through 90°. Now in line, we taxied to the runway, to line up
and take off, in pairs, at 30 second intervals. To reduce the effect
of wake turbulence after leaving the runway, the first pair would stay
low, the second pull up and so on. Describing all this in words, cannot
convey the pilot and machinery anguish that was involved. ‘Please let
it not be me who has a wet start,’ would be a silent prayer offered
up by each pilot. (A wet start is a failure to start a jet engine due
to initial over-fuelling because of a mechanical fault or, more likely,
mishandling, down to pilot anxiousness.) The machinery? Jet engines
being operated in the wake of other jet engines, rapid power changes,
heavy use of wheel brakes - all to keep your aircraft in line. I wonder
if Mr Selassie was that impressed.
'We would have been airborne to fly two 16 aircraft formations in line
astern. Each 16 would be made up of four sets of four aircraft flying
a diamond shape - one aircraft leading, one on each of his wings and
one in line astern. Each four would, in turn, form a larger diamond
formation - a diamond four of diamond fours. My hands are going crazy
trying to describe this!
'I am amazed, these years later that we, and the other fighter wings,
survived all this without incident. This Haile Selassie display was
not a ‘one off’. We used to fly the formation quite often: on the occasion
of HM The Queen’s official birthday, for instance, and each time Her
Majesty returned from a, frequent in those days, overseas visit. These
would be over Buckingham Palace.
'Another of my reflections is that, as a very junior pilot, aged just
21, I was given a tremendous responsibility in these formations. I led
the diamond four on the port side. This meant that I was concentrating
on the leader, keeping the correct position with smooth, small power
changes; if I started using rapid, large throttle movements then the
three formating on me would have required even quicker and bigger ones
- possibly beyond the capabilities of the engine. Similarly my flying
control movements had to be, well, controlled. It would be rather like
driving a car, in a motorway situation, with slow reaction to the steering
wheel and a very stiff accelerator pedal and poor brakes. Most importantly
I had to maintain the correct distance out from the leader to ensure
that my starboard wing man didn’t collide with the leader’s port wing
man - my hands are going again. There was enormous trust in my flying
ability; that starboard wing man was looking at me and had to hope that
I kept that correct distance.
'Once more my mind slips back to that Co-op loaf of bread - nineteen
fourteen two!
'Manoeuvring such an enormous formation required careful planning, especially
when, for those London flypasts, it wasn’t just the Duxford Wing but
all the Meteor wings - Waterbeach, Wattisham, Horsham St. Faith etc,
flying in a stream. Careful timing was needed of each Wing’s take-off
so that they could fly a route and slot into their place in the, one
wing behind the other configuration, at one minute intervals, over the
Palace. A critical aspect for Duxford was that it was close to Waterbeach
so very little time elapsed before that first rendezvous. So, the day
that our wing leader got it wrong and took off a minute early caused
a little difficulty!
'We were due to drop in behind Waterbeach but now we would be level
with them. Thirty two aircraft did a 60° left turn for one minute, followed
by a 60° right for another minute and then another a 60° left. With
the minute lost we were behind Waterbeach but us lot, in formation,
felt as if we had done a day’s work already. Remembering that particular
Wing Commander Flying, I know he would not have had the good grace to
feel any embarrassment about this.
'One of our other excitements was air-to-air firing. That is what we
were about; all this practice battle formation, interceptions, exercises
were only the means of rehearsing getting within shooting range of an
enemy aircraft. But then comes the crunch: can we shoot that aircraft
down?'
... and the story continues, hopefully, in an interesting but amusing
and light hearted way. Central Flying School and four years' Piston
Provost instructing followed Duxford - then a dreaded ground tour ...
and then Britannias!! The air transport business did govern the rest
of my days. My final flying tour was seven years at A & AEE, Boscombe
Down. |
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