Lightning Memories
Brian Clifford (1)
My First Lightning Flight
Having completed basic and advanced flying training on the Jet Provost, Folland Gnat and the Hawker Hunter, I was one of ten pilots at RAF Coltishall in Norfolk on the six-month conversion course to the Lightning aircraft before being posted to our various operational squadrons. We were in ground school, learning all the systems and controls before starting the flying training. But to put the learning in context and to give an appreciation of the aircraft’s capabilities and its role, we were programmed for an early familiarisation flight that basically involved being a passenger with an instructor doing most of the flying while we observed.
It was 26 January 1967, a cold winter’s day with little cloud, a blue sky and a glorious sunset. My sortie was scheduled for a late afternoon take-off at about 4pm. My instructor and I were in XM997, and we were to be the Number 2 in a ‘pairs’ sortie. We briefed, taxied out and lined up in echelon as a pair at the threshold of runway 24 for a 10-second stream take off with the sun on the horizon in our eyes. I was tense as I knew what was coming.
The lead aircraft released his brakes. The reheats lit, and he shot off down the runway. After the 10-second delay, we started our take-off roll, and as our reheats lit and we accelerated at what seemed an unbelievable rate, the lead aircraft suddenly went into plan view and rose vertically. As I rotated my head back to follow him, my instructor said ‘tense’. I just had time to note that we had achieved 280knots, and almost instantly, we rotated 90 degrees, ‘stood on our tail’ and I was pulled into the seat with 4g. In just a few seconds, the aircraft rolled, and we were levelling at over 4000ft. I was thrilled to experience the famous Lightning rotation take off on my very first sortie.
What struck me almost at once was the wonderful quiet of the cockpit. The Lightning may make a lot of noise outside but in the cockpit, it really was amazingly quiet. We climbed to 20,000 or 30,000ft in no time and carried out radar attacks on each other. First, we were the target, then the attacker. The mysterious green glow from the radar screen and the various ‘blips’ on it were confusing (later to become very familiar). The quiet voice of the ground radar controller was captivating. I noted the side stick controller for the radar just behind the throttles. It was about 6 inches tall, rising vertically from the instrument panel to the right of my thigh and had a trigger for the index finger, two if not three wheels that could be rotated by the thumb and the whole thing could be pushed, pulled and rocked inboard and outboard. Any movement on any control had an effect on the radar. I remember wondering how one managed to control the aircraft, operate the throttles and also the radar. Lightning pilots had a high workload.
In no time, we were descending for the return to Coltishall. With the clear weather, the sun was by now below the horizon, leaving a red glow to the west, and the lights from the ground, the coast and the airfield several miles inland were clearly visible. At lower levels, it was fully dark, and it would be a night landing. We arrived in the circuit, turned downwind, came around on the final approach over the runway lights and lined up. Whilst the glide path and approach were pretty ‘normal’, similar to the other aircraft I had flown, what was not was the speed at which we came over the runway threshold and touched down. Landing at about 165 knots or almost 190 mph was a real eye-opener: much faster than anything previously attempted, and I remember wondering for a split second, ‘Can I do this?’. The tail parachute deployed, we slowed, and it was huge smiles all round. What a wonderful aircraft, and what a privilege it was to fly it later in squadron service.
Having completed basic and advanced flying training on the Jet Provost, Folland Gnat and the Hawker Hunter, I was one of ten pilots at RAF Coltishall in Norfolk on the six-month conversion course to the Lightning aircraft before being posted to our various operational squadrons. We were in ground school, learning all the systems and controls before starting the flying training. But to put the learning in context and to give an appreciation of the aircraft’s capabilities and its role, we were programmed for an early familiarisation flight that basically involved being a passenger with an instructor doing most of the flying while we observed.
It was 26 January 1967, a cold winter’s day with little cloud, a blue sky and a glorious sunset. My sortie was scheduled for a late afternoon take-off at about 4pm. My instructor and I were in XM997, and we were to be the Number 2 in a ‘pairs’ sortie. We briefed, taxied out and lined up in echelon as a pair at the threshold of runway 24 for a 10-second stream take off with the sun on the horizon in our eyes. I was tense as I knew what was coming.
The lead aircraft released his brakes. The reheats lit, and he shot off down the runway. After the 10-second delay, we started our take-off roll, and as our reheats lit and we accelerated at what seemed an unbelievable rate, the lead aircraft suddenly went into plan view and rose vertically. As I rotated my head back to follow him, my instructor said ‘tense’. I just had time to note that we had achieved 280knots, and almost instantly, we rotated 90 degrees, ‘stood on our tail’ and I was pulled into the seat with 4g. In just a few seconds, the aircraft rolled, and we were levelling at over 4000ft. I was thrilled to experience the famous Lightning rotation take off on my very first sortie.
What struck me almost at once was the wonderful quiet of the cockpit. The Lightning may make a lot of noise outside but in the cockpit, it really was amazingly quiet. We climbed to 20,000 or 30,000ft in no time and carried out radar attacks on each other. First, we were the target, then the attacker. The mysterious green glow from the radar screen and the various ‘blips’ on it were confusing (later to become very familiar). The quiet voice of the ground radar controller was captivating. I noted the side stick controller for the radar just behind the throttles. It was about 6 inches tall, rising vertically from the instrument panel to the right of my thigh and had a trigger for the index finger, two if not three wheels that could be rotated by the thumb and the whole thing could be pushed, pulled and rocked inboard and outboard. Any movement on any control had an effect on the radar. I remember wondering how one managed to control the aircraft, operate the throttles and also the radar. Lightning pilots had a high workload.
In no time, we were descending for the return to Coltishall. With the clear weather, the sun was by now below the horizon, leaving a red glow to the west, and the lights from the ground, the coast and the airfield several miles inland were clearly visible. At lower levels, it was fully dark, and it would be a night landing. We arrived in the circuit, turned downwind, came around on the final approach over the runway lights and lined up. Whilst the glide path and approach were pretty ‘normal’, similar to the other aircraft I had flown, what was not was the speed at which we came over the runway threshold and touched down. Landing at about 165 knots or almost 190 mph was a real eye-opener: much faster than anything previously attempted, and I remember wondering for a split second, ‘Can I do this?’. The tail parachute deployed, we slowed, and it was huge smiles all round. What a wonderful aircraft, and what a privilege it was to fly it later in squadron service.