christchurch and district model flying club

The Diary of a Flyer, by B Leonard Wise.

This is a side to BL that we have not seen before. C’nest pas tres bon, mais aussie c’nest pas tres mauvais.  Est vous bovvered?

The Story so far B Leonard Wise wants to fly a model Spitfire, he has tried and crashed and then had some lessons.

I am not sure that I should record this at all. At least here in my Diary it should stay secret, I do not expect anyone will read it except me. I would not like this to get into the wrong hands.

It happened like this. I was at the Model Flying Club having had a lesson. I must say that the more lessons I have the better the Planes behave. Anyway D came to speak to me. I must use code letters, for reasons which will become obvious as we proceed. He said that he had overheard me saying that I was going to P next weekend and asked me was I a patriot. Wondering what all this was about I drew myself up to my full height of 5 ft 6 1/2 inches and said that of course I was. He then asked if I would like to strike a blow for England against the bloated bureaucracy of the Common market. I wondered what he was talking about, but swearing me to secrecy he told me of the plan which had been  hatched by this small association of people. I must not call them a gang. They lacked one more person who would be in P on the Friday after noon. I was going to be there so that was why he asked me. I will not tell you the plan because it was acted out exactly as he said. Or nearly so.

My Wife Clarrissa and myself were going with Jim Fawcett and his wife. The Wives play Bridge together, he is something in the Foreign Office and was going over for a conference. This left me free for the afternoon, which was to become one of the most exciting afternoons of my life, as I struck a blow for England. I must be careful how I write this next piece. We arrived Friday Morning. Jim was at the conference of senior E.C. people and on the Friday afternoon there was to be a parade down the C.de E. past a podium with all these dignitaries on it. As planned I joined to queue for the E Tower, Then I saw a rather pretty Girl looking at the Photograph which I had handed over at the planning meeting recognising me she came over kissed me on both cheeks. This was a pleasant surprise. She said Mama told me to bring you your Anorak because it will be cold up there. Then kissing me once again she walked away. I put on the rather scruffy dark blue garment and with a frisson of excitement felt the Transmitter in the pocket.

I was due to be on the platform at 3pm, not too early they said and I managed to get there with ten minutes to spare. I looked around. There were several people there including one large person who seemed to be German with a camera and much other equipment taking photos all over the place. I made sure to keep out of his eye line, and found my ideal position.

Then it happened.  From the direction which I had been told, there came steadily towards us a model high wing plane, six feet or so wingspan. I knew it would have an automatic pilot and it came on at a medium speed. I pulled out the transmitter, extended the aerial, hiding most of it under my coat. People were all looking at the lane not at me. I followed my instructions. Turn it to the left they were. Somehow in the excitement it started to go right but being man of quick reflexes and now fairly competent skills I corrected it and aimed it as instructed towards the C. de E. and the gathering of important people on the Podium. Again, as instructed, I cut the throttle to half and retracted the aerial. The plane descended towards the Podium. I knew that D would be much closer to the Action them me and would perform the next part of the mission but my part was not yet done.

We all watched at the plane slowed up and from its fuselage there dropped, what I knew to be several pounds of mashed up cows’ brains. From where we were up the tower it looked like a direct hit on the upturned faces of the important people on the podium. We could see the confusion and arm waving some of the guards took pot shots at the plane which was accelerating and rising above the building. It then turned back towards the tower and me. I then did my last part I steered it out towards the countryside and turned the little knob which you use for undercarriage. This activated a timed destruct system I. opened the throttle so it started to rise gently. And away it flew. I retracted the aerial. Took off the plastic gloves I had been wearing and dropped them over the side. All this time everyone was watching the plane. I walked towards the lifts but they were not working. Not being a man to panic and needing to get rid of the Transmitter I slipped it into the Photographic box of the German gentleman who was still taking photos of the plane. It was nearly out of sight when there was a puff of smoke and flames and the plane, which had done its duty well, burned up in the sky .I expect the engine would drop somewhere but all the other evidence was destroyed by that fire.

I was waiting by the lift to descend when the attendant answered his phone: Lift Non he said. We waited for some time then the lift doors opened and out marched six policemen. Arresstez vous the senior policeman said and we were all lined up against the wall.

To be continued

B. Leonard Wise

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