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Writen by my Grandfather
Corporal John W Donaldson
1943

I arrived at No 2 S of A.7.T.T. on Dec 2nd. The journey from Madras was, of course, the usual uncomfortable business and the only food we were able to get during the twenty four hours travel was eggs and toast. Our new camp was far from impressive, and it was only after considerable trouble that we finally secured a bed for the night.

The next day was spent "getting organised". After the usual visits to the M.O. Pay Accounts and Stores etc., we called on the C.T.O. and were told of our new duties. Two days later, found us at work instructing I.O.R. trainees - with the promise (or the threat!) of an Instructors Course in the offing.

My particular job was that of teaching the removal and installation of Merlin and Mercury engines into Hurricane and Henheim aircraft. Facilities not too bad - a model aerodrome to work on, sheer-legs, a blackboard and a cupboard, also an old canvas sheet for shade from the ever blazing sun. The work was quite interesting but for the most part I found the average trainee rather dull, and in a lot of cases, stupid. The language difficulty did not make things any better, great patience being needed in explaining the simplest of words and phrases, and the technical vocalulary of the average trainee was practically nil.

The weeks rolled past, and I took my course in lecturing, passing out top of the class with an "A" certificate. This was considered quite good, and back I went to instructing. Interesting work for the most part, the classes only lasting a week, not really long enough to teach a B.O.R. how to install a Mercury engine properly, let alone an I.O.R. However, the weeks seemed to pass more quickly with having fresh faces each Monday morning. The hours were light, with Wednesday afternoon, and all Sunday off, and of course with such a lot of spare time, sport became very important.

Football, tennis and badminton clubs became organised - also swimming. The powers that be are very keen on the men having as much exercise as possible - it is so necessary to physical fitness in a country such as this, and so every facility was granted.

So after nearly eleven years I played tennis and football again - not very good at first, but improving with every game.

One day I was offered the chance to fly again - something which I was beginning to think a thing of the past. However, there I was, at a neighbouring aerodrome, and the opportunity to fly as passenger in a Tiger Moth. I have always liked light aeroplanes and always wanted to fly in one - here was my chance, and I took it.

The pilot was an Indian Officer and he asked me what I wanted - so I told him to take me on a tour of Secunderabad and Hyderabad - including the Nyams ? Palace, fort, tombs, etc. We cruised over these places in bright sunshine and I enjoyed every moment of it. Then he asked if I would like some aerobatics. Naturally I told him to go ahead, for Tiger Moths are renowned for their start capabilities. I was securely strapped in and we were at 2000 ft when he began.

A slow wing-over and into a spin - three and a half tuns of tremendous sensation, the earth below spinning in an amazing fashion. The altimeter read 500 ft when we finally came out with a sickening zoom. Every wire and strut was singing and the blood pounding in my head like a big drum. We screamed our way up, the propeller clawing at the air and the engine revving like a mad thing - and then - sudden peace, the throttle back and the aircraft drifting like a feather over the countryside. My heart settled down again to normal rhythm, my head readjusted itself as we climbed in slow spirals back to 2000 ft.

Then down went the nose, the throttle wide open, engine singing full-throatedly and the earth rushing up. I fought for breath as the earth reeled out of sight and we began to loop - my hands and feet went solid - everything seemed rooted and I was pressed hard against my seat as the earth came back again into view beneath my head, far far below. I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth, and gripped my seat hard until my hands hurt - I felt very sad and sorry for one brief moment - then the exhilaration, the wonderful birdlike feeling flooded through me again as we swooped earthward out of my first loop. I promised myself, "I will keep my eyes open next time", and before I was able to ask for another loop, I realised we had already started it. The earth was out of sight, and up, up, up she went - and over - my eyes remained open with an effort - but what a thrill!

And so into the third loop - I felt it was almost commonplace by now, and for the little moment we hung on top, upside down, I looked around almost nonchalently. Thrills were coming thick and fast! Out of the loop and into a breathtaking side-slip and whip over on to our backs - flat spins - stalls and slow rolls - and half a minute of inverted flying, a most peculiar experience - all my weight on my Sutton harness and my feet waving about above me.

By this time I felt almost saturated with sensation, nothing the pilot could do would bring back again the marvellous moments of that first spin or the first loop. He kept asking me how I was, and if I wanted more - I told him just to keep it going. I think he must have finished his bag of aerial tricks for he told me to hang on for a spot of ground stooffing ? next, and down we went - into the scrub-jungle north of the camp. Often our wheels seemed to touch the ground in those small clear patches, great boulders flew past our wing tips, palm tops swished by above, until at last, tiring of this fun we turned for home. We climbed to around three hundred and side-slipped into a perfect three point landing.

When we got out I thanked him very nicely - he looked at me closely, seemed rather disappointed about something - and said that he was glad I had enjoyed it - and I had.

No wonder Magee wrote the lovely thing I’ve copied - my poor pen cannot describe the beauty of flight - whether in a light and fairy like Moth or a fifteen ton Catalina - the beauty of cloudland can only be known to those who have journeyed there, who have drifted among the stars with Lady Morn for company. Or darted along the cloud lanes - or sailed serene, along the cloudless blue of an Indian sky and the sparkling ocean far below.

Man becomes another being, nothing seems real, the very air one breathes is wine - heady and strong. Time means nothing - for a minute can seem a day - a month - eternity - and the cockpit clock is just another instrument, it means something! - Or does it? One forgets - one doesn’t care! Nothing matters way up there in the blue.

Here is Magees’ High Flight".
Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds - and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind swept heights with easy grace,
Where never lark, or even eagle flow;
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

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