The Genesis of the Vulcan K2
More tales from Mel Robson
 
Running in parallel with the undeclared war against unfriendly forces from Argentina, I was deeply involved with a scantly-disguised effort to convert certain nuclear bombers into an airborne tanker fleet. I was advised of my involvement in this exercise by my boss, who was occasionally known to enjoy a swift half - usually at his UK Government residence somewhere in Lincolnshire at N53°10’ W00°32’ after cessation of flying on a Friday afternoon. I was to accompany a Crew Chief from another squadron and thus us two would then be able to mastermind the whole conversion task at the manufacturers premises on the Dark Side of the Pennines.
 
Naturally I balked at this temporary duty, not because I didn’t want to but because I couldn’t see Yorkshire from there. But it was war, so off we both went and found lodgings at the Five Ways Pub in Stockport; no questions asked, just provide receipts! The chosen aircraft were flown into the airfield and formally handed over to the manufacturer. I was there to remove all the dodgy electronic stuff in order that a Mk53 Hose Drum Unit (HDU) could be fitted in the rear fuselage and thus the Vulcan, now to be known as a KMk2, could deliver much needed fuel as and when required by use of the hose and drogue method. Simples?
 
Well, as it turned out, that was indeed the simplest part. We agreed that either one of us only should be present on a daily basis as we didn’t have to sign for anything but were on hand to answer any questions from the guys who built the aircraft as to how it worked. Ha! My introduction to this different civilian way of working was handled by Mr ‘Saz XXX’, won’t mention his surname as he is likely to be still on someone’s hit list over there. Anyone familiar with aviation will know that the person wearing the white dust-coat in a hangar is to be loved and feared in equal measure; and so it was with Saz. On the first day of my confinement, he walked me around the Final Assembly Hangar, which was his dominion. It was quarter of a mile long, a half mile round trip which could take 30 to 45 minutes and housed several different aircraft types. Our Vulcans were just another high priority task as far as he was concerned. From my window seat in his office above the shop floor I could almost see the whole length of the hangar if I used 10x50 binoculars. He could see everything and everyone from there, unaided through his god’s eye and years of wisdom on the shop floor. “See that bloke with the wheelbarrow, Mel”, pointing out a labourer who had been employed for just a few days. At this point I should explain the Company had hired many locals with and without previous aircraft experience to work the new 24hr shift system as we were at war, weren’t we? He explained he had supplied him with a brand new gleaming wheelbarrow, sweeping brushes and protective gear and it was his job to contain and clear away oil spills etc using (excuse me) that well known absorbent ‘chicken shit’. He explained he had been watching this bloke like a hawk and discovered that after his first week of employment, and despite a hangar full of aircraft and smelly stuff everywhere, his tools were spotless and looked as if they had never been used. “I’m going to get him.” as he had clearly just been walking to and fro all day and everyone thought he was going somewhere else to clean up in the huge hangar. But he was wrong!
 
The following day, labourer gone and replaced by one who did a great job, the hangar was once again spotless, as it should be. At the time for the ‘swing shift supper’ approached at 2am, a consignment of 120 fish and chip suppers arrived from the local chippy. The works canteen staff clearly weren’t at war, it seemed. This was a popular event and staff suddenly appeared from nowhere to enjoy these free delights in the canteen. The supervisors ate separately and I was invited to guest with them. This was indeed an honour and tables were laid with gleaming Avro themed cutlery and the bar was manned. Wonderful! Having been served first and having finished, Saz wanted to tour the now empty hangar for some reason and invited me along. As we approached a particularly large tool cabinet he hushed me to silence. “I’m going to get him” said Saz as we heard a loud snoring sound from inside this large cabinet, someone inside and clearly away with the fairies! Again, for clarification, staff had been told they could work two of the 3 shifts in the 24hr pattern and some even tried to work 24hrs continuously and were very tired as a result. I waited as Saz rushed upstairs to return with a massive brass padlock and locked the cabinet hasp. “Now we’ll see who doesn’t clock off this shift”. Next day someone else walked the walk of shame back to Stockport. This was an eye-opening experience for me and demonstrated just how some dim-witted people try to beat the system. Just like the bloke who was in the habit of clocking off at lunchtime, going to the Pub on the far side of the airfield then someone else clocking him back in whilst he stayed in the pub for the afternoon, to eventually return at end of shift and clock himself off for the day. Saz got him too.
 
I helped install the first HDU with an engineer from FR Aviation and we were both delighted and somewhat relieved that despite the item being packed for storage in 1953, it burst into life and worked superbly on the aircraft and throughout the flight testing phase. I was called by one of the returning engineers who told me that he and his sadly now deceased brother had built parts of the aircraft we were working on at the time. I was amazed at how he knew this and he duly opened an access panel which I didn’t even know existed and, lo and behold, in pencil there were their two names inscribed on the component! A big no no, but I was Avionics, not Airframes.
 
I went flying on one of the early test flights, mainly to assist the crew on the newly-installed controls and indicators. Over the North Sea at night we successfully transferred fuel to a Nimrod which had just had an refuelling probe installed. On landing the Captain deployed our tail brake chute, or tried to, and it didn’t. Max braking, as the aircraft was heavy, and we just managed to stop in the available runway length at Wood in the Ford. The fire crew turned up and wanted to spray the red hot mag alloy wheels - NO certainly not but we must move the aircraft immediately or else the wheels will seize on and we will block the runway for ever. At that point they announced they had run out of shift allowance time and were going home. I paced out just 27yards from the nose wheel to the gravel at the upwind end of the runway. The ‘chute had been installed by guys who had forgotten how to do it, despite it taking almost all the previous afternoon; the straps holding the chute in its packed configuration had not been completely removed. To cap it all, at the well-attended Wood in the Ford Open Day one of our 44 Sqn crews put on a sterling Vulcan display which shattered most of the windows of the ‘flight sheds’ and lifted panelling off the roof. The site manager there and then confiscated the Granada TV video of the event but I’m told some copies leaked out!