Always examine your parachute before flying!!
Posted: 01 Jan 2009, 13:00
This anecdote is taken from the book 'Fly Navy' edited by Charles Manning - a collection of aircrew and RN carrier stories from 1945-2000.
Observer, Sea Venom, HMS Albion, Home Waters, 1955. Lt J A Tayler RN
We were the first SeaVenom Squadron in HMS Albion and things were not going well so it was decided that the Sea Venoms would disembark to Yeovilton. For me the most important question was - what was I going to do with my hamsters?
Another Observer, Bob Mc Culloch, volunteered to take one, which eased the problem; I was late and had to dash down the flight deck with engines starting all around me, only just managing to pass the squirming creature in to him before his canopy clamped shut. My aircraft, with pilot Ron Davidson, being first on the catapult, I strapped in with a great rush, and while I was sorting out my navigation kit the other hamster climbed out of my pocket and wandered forward out of reach. This was no time to go looking for him. As we shot down the catapult the little chap hurtled aft to hit the bulkhead somewhere behind us with an awful thump. He lay there with no oxygen mask, probably critically injured. What away to go! At Yeovilton in the rush of arrival, customs and so on, I have to admit I forgot about him.
A few days later, a Safety Equipment rating sidled up to me with aheavy wink:"Sir, I've had to ewrite off your 'chute with all those OIL STAINS!' I followed him to the hangar. Hammy, having survived the adventure of his life had eaten his way into the heart of the tightly packed silk. He looked very much at home in the cockpit of our de Havilland Sea Venom all-weather fighter.'
Observer, Sea Venom, HMS Albion, Home Waters, 1955. Lt J A Tayler RN
We were the first SeaVenom Squadron in HMS Albion and things were not going well so it was decided that the Sea Venoms would disembark to Yeovilton. For me the most important question was - what was I going to do with my hamsters?
Another Observer, Bob Mc Culloch, volunteered to take one, which eased the problem; I was late and had to dash down the flight deck with engines starting all around me, only just managing to pass the squirming creature in to him before his canopy clamped shut. My aircraft, with pilot Ron Davidson, being first on the catapult, I strapped in with a great rush, and while I was sorting out my navigation kit the other hamster climbed out of my pocket and wandered forward out of reach. This was no time to go looking for him. As we shot down the catapult the little chap hurtled aft to hit the bulkhead somewhere behind us with an awful thump. He lay there with no oxygen mask, probably critically injured. What away to go! At Yeovilton in the rush of arrival, customs and so on, I have to admit I forgot about him.
A few days later, a Safety Equipment rating sidled up to me with aheavy wink:"Sir, I've had to ewrite off your 'chute with all those OIL STAINS!' I followed him to the hangar. Hammy, having survived the adventure of his life had eaten his way into the heart of the tightly packed silk. He looked very much at home in the cockpit of our de Havilland Sea Venom all-weather fighter.'