How I became a pilot - an ungrateful one!

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. Some of my contemporaries were outraged when they heard what had happened

Whilst I was on temporary duty at Far East Air Force Headquarters in Singapore in 1964/5, the RAF's entire force of Valiant bombers was permanently grounded after one particular aircraft sustained a main spar failure whilst airborne from Gaydon. Several hundred Valiant aircrew and ground crew were suddenly out of a job and had to be re-trained for other duties. Although I could have continued with the duties that had taken me to Singapore, I was still basically a Valiant Air Electronics Officer (AEO) and so I was sent back to England in July 1965 and replaced in Singapore by a Vulcan-qualified officer. My job as an instructor at Gaydon had also disappeared with the demise of the Valiant. The powers-that-be decided I was due for a desk job. I was posted to the Headquarters of No 3 Group at RAF Mildenhall in the appointment known as P2, the Personnel Officer responsible for managing the careers of almost 700 junior officers – and I do mean 700. As well as pilots, navigators and ground branch officers, that number included many AEOs like me, all of whom were either currently employed on Victor bombers or had been employed on the Valiants before they were taken out of service.

A few of the former Valiant AEOs took advantage of this unexpected break in their careers to apply for re-training as pilots. This may seem an odd thing to do but in fact many AEOs, myself included, had long thought that the writing was on the wall for our careers. Apart from a few odd jobs here and there, the only openings for AEOs were on the V-Force and in Coastal Command. In spite of oft-repeated official promises that we had the same promotion prospects as pilots had, only one AEO had at that time reached the rank of wing commander and there seemed little likelihood of any of the rest of us ever reaching that or any higher rank. In fact one of my AEO friends did, many years later, retire in the rank of air commodore but there were by then only a few dozen AEOs still serving. It was widely believed in 1966 that a mandatory redundancy scheme for AEOs was on the cards. In January 1966 I wrote a letter to the AOC following a briefing I had been given at Bomber Command HQ about AEOs' career prospects. I still have a copy of that letter.

It was almost unheard of for any aircrew officer to be permitted to re-train for another aircrew speciality, partly because by the time they applied they were usually above the age limit (then 26), but mainly on cost grounds. The RAF took the not unreasonable view that if they permitted an AEO, or navigator, to be retrained as a pilot they would have to recruit someone else to replace him – and there was always the possibility that the AEO or navigator might fail the pilot training because the attrition rate was quite high at the flying training schools.

The AEOs who were determined that they wanted to re-train had to submit formal written applications through ‘the usual channels’ and all the applications that got past their squadron and station commanders eventually dropped into my in-tray at 3 Group HQ. I had to evaluate them all and make a recommendation on each one before I passed it along the corridor to the new Air Officer Commanding, Air Vice-Marshal ‘Splinters’, later Air Chief Marshal Sir Denis, Smallwood (Smallwood - Splinters - get it?). I was dismayed to see that most of the applications were lacking in substance and not likely to impress anyone. The shortest one, correctly laid out in the rather stilted formal Service language of the day, stated simply:

‘Sir, I request that I may be re-trained as a pilot, I have the honour to be, Sir, Your obedient servant, Joe Bloggs, Flight Lieutenant’

That was it! No explanation, no pleading, no attempt to convince anyone that it was in the RAF’s best interests that tens of thousands of pounds should be spent on re-training the writer.

I decided that I could do better than that. Purely as an academic exercise, I typed a lengthy letter explaining in some considerable detail why I thought I should be re-trained as a pilot. I still have a photocopy of that letter too, now badly fading at the edges, and I'm still amazed what it led to. I passed the letter through the connecting hatchway to my Boss, the Senior Personnel Staff Officer, Squadron Leader Dougie Fish, explaining to him that I did not expect the letter to go any further but I did want to make a point on behalf of all AEOs. I then forgot all about it and got on with my work. About a month later I was summoned to the AOC’s office for what I expected to be one of our routine meetings. I was ushered into the presence by the ADC, Flight Lieutenant Mike Pilkington.

‘Ah, Tony, come in and sit down,’ said Splinters, beaming all over his face. Now that was unusual! Air Vice-Marshal Smallwood was not noted for his affability and he had never before addressed me by my first name. Furthermore junior staff officers were not normally invited to sit down.

A short digression. The AOC had an interesting rule about working hours. He used to say to his staff that they could start work at the scheduled time of 0800 hours or any later time they wished, as long as they got to their office before he got to his!

Splinters was one of the grand old school of AOCs. He once arrived by air at a station within his group for the annual AOC’s Inspection. In those days the inspection always started with a formal parade. The Station Commander greeted the AOC at his aircraft and they got into the car for the short drive to the parade ground. On the way there the AOC saw something, it is not recorded exactly what, that caused him displeasure.

‘This station is not ready for my inspection. I’ll be back in exactly seven days,’ he snapped, to the Station Commander's dismay.

With that he ordered the car to take him back to his aircraft. He arrived back at Mildenhall about an hour later, but many hours earlier than expected. A number of staff officers, having decided to have a few hours off while the AOC was away, were caught out and thereby incurred the AOC’s wrath.

Seven days later he arrived at the same station not by air as expected but by road at 0630 hours, three hours earlier than the scheduled time. His large staff car with star plates fixed front and rear and pennant flying from the bonnet, swept unnoticed past the Guard Room (no booking-in and no gate guards in those days) and went straight to the Airmen’s Mess. The AOC, wearing his ceremonial uniform, went to the servery, joined the few astonished airmen in the queue and, when it was his turn, ordered breakfast. A startled cook telephoned the Station Commander to tell him that the AOC was already on base, having breakfast. The Station Commander did not get any breakfast that day!

Anyway, in the AOC's office I waited expectantly, notebook and pen at the ready.

‘I liked your letter,’ said Splinters, turning the pages of a blue personal file - mine as it turned out.

‘Which particular letter was that, sir?’ I asked, mystified.

‘The one asking for re-training as a pilot. I was so impressed with your arguments that I telephoned the Air Secretary, Air Marshal Sir Brian Burnett. He’s an old friend of mine. He agreed that you had made out a good case and should be given a chance. You start your pilots’ course at South Cerney next month. Don’t let me down!’

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement. Clearly Dougie Fish had passed my letter on to the AOC when I had asked him not to do so. Some of my contemporaries were outraged when they heard what had happened; they thought I had abused my position. They were not in the least mollified when I passed the word around, discreetly so as not to upset the AOC, that I had not intended my letter to be taken seriously.

In fact there was one further hurdle I had to tackle before I could start my pilot training. I was summoned to the Ministry of Defence in London to be interviewed by the Deputy Director for Personnel (Air). It was the first time I had been to ‘Head Office’. I travelled by car and train from Mildenhall and presented myself in good time for the 11am interview. DDP(A), a group captain, kept me waiting in his outer office for about half an hour before I was ushered in by his secretary. I had done some research and I knew that he had been a Lightning squadron commander in his previous job. I had also learned that he had done all his service flying in single-seat fighter aircraft of one sort or another and had, according to my informants, little patience with, or liking for, non-pilot aircrew.

‘Come in Cunnane and sit down,’ said the Group Captain, rather curtly. He flicked, rather unnecessarily, through a blue Staff-in-Confidence personal file. ‘I have your letter to your AOC here,’ he continued, without having any eye contact with me. ‘A most remarkable letter I must say. Whatever possessed you to write such a letter?’

‘I would have thought that was fairly obvious, sir’ I replied. ‘As a good staff officer I wanted to ensure the AOC was aware of the unhappiness amongst his AEOs about their career prospects. I could simply have asked for an interview with my AOC but I decided to write him that rather lengthy letter instead. The AOC told me that he approved of my letter and had forwarded it to the Air Secretary for a decision. I thought the whole matter was settled - I'm supposed to be starting my pilot training in a couple of weeks.’

The AOC was two ranks higher, and the Air Secretary three ranks higher, than the Group Captain.

‘I’m aware of that and I cannot over-rule the Air Secretary. However, I wanted to make sure that you appreciate what you are taking on. Currently,’ he flicked through my file again as he spoke, ‘you’re a highly regarded officer and you could be in line for promotion in three or four years. If you go on a pilots’ course and fail you will never be able to revert to being an AEO.’

‘I’m aware of that, sir,’ I replied.‘

I expect you would like to go and have a bit of lunch and think it over,’ said the Group Captain. ‘Why not come back at 2-o-clock and let me know what you’ve decided.’

‘There’s no need, sir,’ I replied. ‘My mind is quite made up. I wish to accept the Air Secretary’s offer.’

‘Very well, Cunnane. Be it on your head.’ He flung my personal file into his Out Tray and took up another from his In Tray. Clearly I was dismissed!

Air Marshal Smallwood dropped into my office at Mildenhall a couple of days later.

‘I understand you were a little short with DDP(A). You'd better make sure you do well in your pilot training - he's not a man to be crossed and he'll not forget you. Good luck to you.’

I seem to recall that I was very subdued and worried on the journey back to East Anglia. The enormity of what I had done was only then beginning to sink in.  Nevertheless, there was now no going back and that was how I became the RAF’s oldest ever pilot student when I started my training at the age of 30.

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