I was a little late returning to the crew room after lunch and found that several pilots were really edgy, kicking chairs, being sullen, being fidgety, and generally creating an atmosphere of tension while waiting for their turns to solo. Having done it myself there was a degree of jealousy, the more so when my name appeared on the board for a second flight early that same afternoon.
Whilst my first flight was designated as 'familiarisation on type and sector recce' which had turned out to be more 'famil' than 'recce', this second one was 'familiarisation and general handling'.
Getting into the cockpit this time and starting up unsupervised was a step forward. I felt more assured but not yet very relaxed as I taxied out and took off.
It was a clear day with only a very few tufts of cloud as I climbed to something over 20,000 feet to start throwing the aircraft about, very much in charge of it, rather than it of me, this time. Then I had a peculiar feeling of being watched. It was as uncanny and unnatural as it was unexpected, but it was strong. I was flying more or less east at the time, with the sun on my starboard side. On scanning the sky for another aircraft in case someone was about to 'bounce' me there was nothing to see, only the sun, and emptiness. Still looking around, and still having this feeling, I noticed a patch of light to starboard which I at first thought was an internal reflection from something within the still strange cockpit. Turning a little to starboard, I proved it was no reflection and the patch of light stayed in the same spatial position. It was circular, white to bluish-white in colour, and almost looked as though it was liquid. It was smaller than the sun and not near it, being at the same apparent height as me. Not knowing its size I had no concept of its range. It fascinated me and held my attention. It started to move forward of me without my changing from straight and level flight. I then turned towards it and it disappeared momentarily as the windscreen strut passed over it and then it reappeared ahead. That proved conclusively that it was no reflection. I felt it was looking at me, and I didn't like it. Opening up to 100% power I headed and aimed for it. Within seconds, and with no increase in its apparent size or change of other characteristics, it accelerated vertically at enormous speed and disappeared. The feeling of being watched ceased at the same time. That gone, I had to put the matter out of my mind. I got on with my familiarisation sortie and now really gained in confidence at the controls, experimenting still further with the handling characteristics and getting bolder all the time. With a phenomenal roll rate (with stick hard over) you could almost emulate the flight of a shell shot out of a rifled barrel. Straight line 'slow' (bloody fast) rolls were a cinch. Pulling tight turns was simple, initially up to 7 'G' was easy with the 'G' suit squeezing my torso. Only after 7 'G' did I have to use standard techniques to delay grey out and black out. We were told we could not over-stress the airframe because our bodies would give up first. The rate of climb was good, and far exceeded that of a Vampire. Strangely, though, it was virtually impossible to move the rudder pedals in flight because of the aerodynamic loading on the rudder. Their only real use was when taxying, keeping straight on take-off, and towards the end of a landing run.
The 35 minute flight went well, in spite of the encounter, and this time I landed at the right speed.
As to the patch of light: I had never seen anything like it before - or since. I didn't report it on landing for fear of being ridiculed as it was widely held that such things were seen only by people who believed in fairies.1
I flew again the next day, but in cloudier conditions, this time climbing to 35,000 feet to get the feel of the aircraft in thinner air. Being at greater altitude and with consequent reduction in fuel consumption this sortie lasted 45 minutes.
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1 It was many months later before I spoke of this phenomenon. This is reported in a later chapter.
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