In Memoriam

Sadly the following members have died since publication of the last newsletter.

We extend our sincere condolences to their families and friends.

Ray Fletton

Ernie Howlett

Neil McDougall DFC

Hugh Prior

James Walker

Thank you Phil and Simon for your kind words to my brother Chris and I on the passing of our father Ray (‘Flettonav’). Before I scribe a few words I would just like to thank you all for your service, in these rather uncertain times it does bring it home to ‘ordinary’ people how much of a debt we owe you all.

I’d like to share a few specific thoughts that I hope you recognise or may even remember with fondness. My dad had a scientific background, and had a very practical application to problem solving, especially mechanical objects. Despite this after leaving the RAF he had a great vision for how things could look in houses in Cyprus and France - he still couldn’t finish much…and his somewhat contradictory nature was evidenced by a fixed income, proud UK citizen living in France and voting for Brexit!

I work in insurance and have been extremely lucky in business and on the sports field to work with some brilliant people and fantastic teams - but nothing comes close to what I remember witnessing at first hand in the early ‘80s whilst Flettonav served with you.

Three things stick in my mind “a team that drinks together, wins together.” As a 12 year old I remember going to the officers mess at Waddington and being (briefly) allowed in the bar to be met by a chalkboard with ‘twofers’. Being a bit dim I read this as ‘twoffers’ until it was explained what 2-4-1 meant. Quick as a flash I asked for two bags of crisps - completely stumped by the reply “Certainly sir, gin or vodka with that?”

My second recollection is a picture of Simon Baldwin with a blowpipe (pretty sure that the picture and the blowpipe, or one like it, is in France), surrounded by my dad and others. The sheer joy in that photo and the energy is indelible in my memory.

Finally, there are three people, names that I recall vividly from that time. I mean no disrespect to anyone by citing three particular influences on my dad from that time - and in no particular order:

Dave Stenhouse (RIP). As families we were pretty close and I’m fairly sure my dad would cite Dave as his best friend. Operation ‘Village Idiot’ (my brother and I were the irritating barmen) and the first space shuttle launch were things that we shared together from around that time.

Bert Dowty. I hope I have the name right, and with luck my memory at 54 hasn’t gone completely. I believe my dad met Bert through a reunion and he was fascinated with Rhodesia and how the squadron was formed, the stories and the missions he flew. I forget, but the connection over time was something I am sure he felt very strongly.

And finally, Simon Baldwin. Boss/leader/mentor/friend may not do him justice, but thanks for your support over all the years, Simon (and Sheila!).

I’ve also penned a few words ‘in memoriam’ of a ceremony in the UK, where we can discuss this and many other aspects together. We’d be delighted to meet you whether for the first time or again.

Goodbye “Flettonav”

Alex and Chris Fletton

With sadness, I must report that Squadron Leader Neil McDougall DFC died on Wednesday 10 January 2024 at the age of 87. Neil McDougall was the oldest of the 4 Black Buck Captains and was awarded the DFC for his outstanding actions during the Vulcan Shrike missions in the Falklands conflict.

On arrival at the Vulcan OCU at RAF Finningley in 1964, I found myself on a conversion course comprising just a single crew. The selection process was therefore superfluous and the five of us met in the bar, eying each other up cautiously, hoping we would all turn out to be reasonably compatible. This chance meeting with a young, debonair navigator called Jim Walker was a coincidence of pure serendipity. He had an easy-going manner, a ready smile and was clearly at ease with himself and the rest of the world. He was the product of a famous public school, Sherborne, and had that air of inner self-confidence which eluded this grammar school boy at that time. However, we hit it off immediately and began our studies of the mysterious and, to us, complex Vulcan BMk1A. Besides myself and Jim, the crew was an eclectic mix of individuals: the urbane Mike D’Arcy was the aircraft captain, CO designate of 44  Squadron; Ted Marmont, an affable and loquacious Australian, was the Navigator Plotter and Jock Lamont, a diminutive Scot, was the Air Electronics Officer. After 3 months on the course the OCU instructors pronounced us fit to enter squadron service and we moved across to RAF Waddington.
 
Mike D’Arcy shunned well-meaning advice that as a Squadron CO he should be given an experienced crew to ease the rigours of command and insisted on retaining the novices with whom he had just qualified on type. The next three years went by quickly with a variety of interesting overseas deployments, including a memorable visit to Salisbury, Rhodesia, not long before Ian Smith declared UDI. Jim Walker was excellent company on these jaunts and he soon established himself as a highly popular Nav Radar on the Squadron. He could, on occasions, be quite naughty. A demanding ‘limited aids’ navigation exercise required Ted to complete a long series of pre-computed astro fixes prior to take off. The work was tedious and time-consuming and relied, when airborne, on the Nav Radar taking periscopic sextant shots exactly on the pre-computed times. Ted would read out the azimuth and elevation settings for each shot and Jim would put aside his copy of Horse and Hound to make the settings and peer through the sextant’s eye piece. As the time of the shot approached, Ted would anxiously seek assurance that Jim could see the heavenly body through his sight. Jim would sometimes ask for the settings to be repeated before finally insisting that he could see absolutely nothing but an empty sky. This wind-up invariably provoked an impressive fit of rage, with colourful antipodean curses from an exasperated Plotter.
 
Jim, the bomb aimer of the crew, had to become expert at interpreting the H2S radar display, which, to the rest of us looked just like a bowl of green porridge. Overland targets were often difficult to discern from background returns and a system of offset bombing was devised, whereby bearings and distances from identifiable landmarks were marked on a transparent plastic overlay, enabling the target to be identified. Diligent Nav Radars would prepare a whole library of these overlays to cover most of the targets used during training sorties. Jim though had, within the deep recesses of his nav bag, his own unique aid to help simplify the dark art of offset bombing. He kept an ancient and battered square of plastic, covered with greasy chinagraph marks which he claimed would enable him to bomb pretty much any target, not only within the UK but as far east as the Urals. Not surprisingly, his ‘Universal Overlay’, as he dubbed it, failed to gain critical acclaim within the Nav Radar community.
 
When not plying his trade in a Vulcan, Jim was a bit of a petrol-head. We were young and carefree in those days and it seemed only right that our personal transport should be British sports cars. Jim had a white Triumph TR3A, which was pretty fast in a straight line in the dry but lethal on its Michelin tyres in the wet. I replaced my old yellow Ford Thames van with an even older MGA - prettier than Jim’s Triumph but not as fast. Our driving would be considered cavalier these days.We raced around the highways and byways of Lincolnshire, oblivious to risk but, alas, it didn’t always end well. In one forgettable week, I spun on ice and hit a cemetery wall on the way back from Heighington and a couple of days later Jim returned the compliment by losing control  of his TR3A in the wet on the mildest of bends in Bracebridge Heath.
 
After 44 Squadron, Jim and I went our separate ways: I was posted to 101 Squadron at Waddington and Jim went to Cyprus. Eventually Jim left the RAF to start his restaurant business in Leamington Spa and a new chapter opened. We met only intermittently after that; Jim came to stay with us in Sardinia a couple of times and we hosted our old friend for the odd 44 Squadron reunion. For a time Jim was the proud owner of a 34 foot cabin cruiser, moored at Carcassonne in southern France. It was an elderly vessel which had spent its formative years as a rental boat. It had clearly had a hard life and its recalcitrant gearbox was often reluctant to engage reverse, which made entering the locks of the Canal du Midi quite entertaining for onlookers.
 
The litmus test for good friendships is whether or not you feel comfortable in their company. No only did I feel comfortable, but when we did meet it was as if the passage of intervening time had been miraculously erased. I enjoyed his company and valued his friendship enormously.
 
Phil Leckenby