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  1. 6 points
    Great pics chaps thank you! I got some footage on my smartphone again this year so threw together another little video for those that couldn't make it:
  2. 6 points
    And the final batch from Sunday;
  3. 6 points
    Some more photos - Friday arrivals and practice - Saturday show.
  4. 6 points
    Huge thanks to all the Dogz for being such splendid company at the weekend, I had a blast. The show was fantastic, the weather was sublime and the curry was tasty as usual. Plenty of highlights to choose from, but if I had to be specific, probably the Battle of Britain film salute with four Buchons attacking the field from the south, three Sptifires to defend and all accompanied by the soundtrack over the tannoy. Wonderful stuff! All aircraft involved were actual stars of the film too (50 years ago this July). I'll be putting together a little video again when I get some time later this week hopefully, so watch this space.
  5. 6 points
    Some pix (quite a few of the spit formation were taken at 100th of a second )
  6. 6 points
    Curry done, more pics to follow soon
  7. 5 points
    Aha!!! It's arrived Size comparison with what it's replacing; Initial impressions; very nicely made, very neat, very smooth in operation and very plug and play. Me like
  8. 5 points
    I'm trying to help out some folks when I see they could use some. This is an in cockpit view of how to use lead and lag pursuit. https://youtu.be/oN0BV_p-tJI
  9. 5 points
    Oh YES 10777 2669 posts Location:Las Vegas, Nevada USA Report post Posted 18 hours ago 198 Dear Pilots, It’s the summer holiday season and many team members are taking their hard-earned vacations. So, as a result our ability to give you super detailed Developer Diaries is diminished a bit. However, we have the first shots of our American P-47D-28 “Jug” in the engine. The cockpit is under development and these shots are of course Work In Progress. She’s turning out to be quite the beauty! We hope you enjoy!
  10. 5 points
    It was great to meet up with the guys again, had a great day, planes, sunshine and great banter, what more can a man ask for.....even had a pretty singer blowing me a kiss and lusting after me and not Sid standing dirctly behine me in her line of sight...it was me honest...
  11. 4 points
    This week, a single seat IL-2 has been recovered from a lake in Russia and is in remarkably good condition, owing mainly to the conditions on the lake bed and method in which it was put down by the pilot in 1943. See the thread here: https://forum.keypublishing.com/showthread.php?145747-Single-Seat-II-2-Lake-Recovery-Russia-this-week And latest photos here: https://scontent.ffcm1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...c8&oe=5BFFDD6Chttps://scontent.ffcm1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...f7&oe=5BF651B1https://scontent.ffcm1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...50&oe=5C02AC7Bhttps://scontent.ffcm1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...7c&oe=5BCC6EB8https://scontent.ffcm1-2.fna.fbcdn.n...93&oe=5C01954D The same restoration team that performed the work on the other two currently airworthy examples will be tasked to return this aircraft back to flight in a few years time. What great news!
  12. 4 points
    Well chaps, thank you, had a blast. I had a great time. Crash, FT and Arthur hosted and it was fun! Thanks gents! It is the way to go...and jeez, these planes look good.
  13. 4 points
    Geoffrey Wellum obituary Youngest Battle of Britain Spitfire pilot whose bestselling war memoir was hailed as one of the most powerful and poignant ever written. Geoffrey Wellum in 2002 In the early 1970s Geoffrey Wellum was at a very low ebb. His business had failed, his marriage was coming to an end and he had recently lost his house. Dogged by despair, he began to write a memoir about his youth: “I just wanted to convince myself that at some point in my life I had been of use.” In 1940, when he was 18, Wellum had, as the youngest Spitfire pilot in the RAF, flown in the Battle of Britain. He had been mad about aircraft as a boy and joined the service straight out of school. Having learnt to fly in Tiger Moths, he first went solo on September 1, 1939. Two days later Britain entered the war. Under the merciless chivvying of his instructors, he grew up quickly, although his age and cockiness earned him the nickname “Boy”. In May 1940, on the eve of Dunkirk, so bad was the situation deemed that he was posted to 92 Squadron before his training was complete. In a recent unpublished interview with The Times he recalled: “After I joined the squadron they went to Dunkirk and by the end of that day we’d lost five people, four of whom I’d met the night before in the officers’ mess. I thought, ‘Hold on a minute, this is bloody dangerous!’ ” At that point he had never seen a Spitfire, let alone flown one. “When I was first given one to fly,” he recalled, “my emotion was almost intimidation. It felt like a thoroughbred horse watching a new rider and wondering how much to be bloody-minded. Once I was inside, the Spitfire, quite frankly, flew me.” His first CO, Roger Bushell, was shot down at once; “Big X”, as Bushell later became known, was executed by the Gestapo in the aftermath of the “Great Escape”. Spitfire pilots had an average life expectancy of four weeks. Wellum was stationed during the battle first at Pembrey, protecting Bristol, and then, from September, at Biggin Hill. When that base was being bombed, the squadron mess was moved to a place called the “White House” in Knockholt, where they would, as he recalled, party with girls from London until 5am and then be in their cockpits at first light. “The comradeship in a fighter squadron that has survived the Battle of Britain is something that you will never be able to understand,” he observed, “and I will never experience again. And I can’t put it into words.” In his interview with The Times he reflected: “You know, at no time during the battle, as very young pilots, did any of us contemplate defeat. We felt the whole time that we were on top of them, we could cope with them; it was tough going and the sight of 150-plus coming in over Dungeness like a swarm of bats on a summer evening, with the 109s above, there was a feeling of anger, really. “England was a peaceful place, all I wanted to do was watch England play Australia at Lord’s. Here they were, coming over our green and pleasant land, bombing everything in sight, I don’t know what they were up to . . . people today don’t realise that feeling; it’s all too clinical.” Wellum, right, in 1941 posing for Cecil Beaton with Brian Kingcome at RAF Biggin Hill, Kent Flying alongside celebrated pilots such as Brian Kingcome, Bob Stanford Tuck and Tony Bartley, and then in Sailor Malan’s wing from 1941, Wellum destroyed four enemy aircraft and damaged several others, although being bloody-minded he was not meticulous in keeping a record of his kills. Several times he narrowly evaded being shot down. Recalling his survival technique, he said: “You make yourself a difficult target. Never stay still, never fly straight and level, chuck it around. Quite often you’d find yourself surrounded by aeroplanes and then the sky would be empty. ‘Where’s everybody gone?’ It was then that you were in danger. It was the German you didn’t see who shot you down.” In August 1941, soon after being photographed with others in his squadron by Cecil Beaton, he was awarded the DFC. A year later, in preparation for Pedestal, the convoy operation carrying vital supplies to Malta, Wellum led a flight of eight Spitfires out to the island via north Africa. He was subsequently diagnosed as suffering from exhaustion, aged 20, having by then completed two full tours, including dozens of fighter sweeps and bomber escort details. Thereafter he briefly test-flew Typhoons and then saw out the war as a pilot attack instructor. The reminiscences that he wrote a quarter of a century later were put away in a drawer for another three decades before he lent them to an editor at Penguin researching the period. James Holland, now a well-known historian, was struck by their “emotional punch” — rare in first-hand accounts of the Battle of Britain — and showed them to colleagues. Wellum in 2015 with Jodie Kidd, the model, in Fairford A few weeks later Wellum was in his local in Cornwall when the landlady handed him the phone. It was Holland: “I’ve been trying to find you in every pub on the Lizard.” He told Wellum Penguin was offering a substantial deal — “They picked me up off the floor and poured more scotch into me” — and the book, published in 2002 as First Light, became a bestseller. In 2010 it was filmed by the BBC to mark the 70th anniversary of the battle. “I enjoyed the film to a degree,” he said later. “There is a little bit of artistic licence in it, the BBC wanted a bit of a love scene in it and as I was going to get a bag of gold — well, not exactly, something to buy me another beer — I went along with it.” The power of Wellum’s writing lies in its immediacy and lack of artifice. His are the inchoate thoughts of a young man who grows wearily accepting of death. Although alive to the beauty of flight, there is little of the heroic romanticism about aerial combat that afflicts other memoirs of the period. Instead, it is depicted as confused and brutal, never more so than when Wellum finds himself a target: “When I saw him, I felt fear, real stark fear. Not ‘Ooh, this is frightening’, but ‘Oh God, this bloke is going to kill me’. I’ll never know how I got away with it.” Nonetheless, the enemy are always respected; his real hatred is reserved for the politicians who send men to war: “I realise just how bloody stupid they are.” It was not so much that Wellum was a born writer — although vivid set- pieces, such as his description of stalking a Ju 88 in the rain over the sea showed that he was — as that he had a subject about which he felt compelled to write. Although urged to continue his career as an author, he never found a theme that inspired him as much. The book’s success reawoke painful memories for Wellum: “People say, ‘You’ve got to forget all this, it was a long time ago.’ And I say, ‘I quite agree with you, but can you tell me how?’ ” Yet he was glad of the chance to educate younger generations who knew little of the sacrifices made by his. (One journalist who interviewed him for a national newspaper asked if it was the computer in his Spitfire that told him when his ammunition had run out.) For many years he had regarded his wartime service as the pinnacle of his life, with the rest of it as anticlimactic. That made the unexpected attention in his eighties all the more gratifying, although he always saw himself as a representative of all who had served. “It’s nice to be remembered,” Wellum said, “because being remembered covers everybody, including all those chaps who were killed. That’s what’s important, not medals or thanks.” Geoffrey Harry Augustus Wellum was born in Walthamstow, Essex, in 1921. His father, Percy, who managed an off-licence, had fought at Gallipoli as a quartermaster sergeant before receiving a battlefield commission. He and his wife Edith’s only child was Geoffrey, who attended Forest School, Snaresbrook, where he captained the cricket XI in his last summer. From an early age young Geoffrey wanted to fly. “I used to make Skybirds,” he said. “They were wooden and you used to buy them as a kit and I had 50 of the damned things. I lived near North Weald and saw the pilots in white overalls. Dad would drive past and then, in about 1937, there was one of the new Hurricanes taxiing in, and there was the pilot with the oxygen mask on him, and I thought, ‘God, I want to be one of those.’ ” He remained in the RAF after the war. After a brief period flying Vampire and Meteor jets, while based in Germany, he converted to heavy aircraft, notably B29 Washingtons. With 192 Squadron at RAF Watton in the mid-1950s, he flew more than 50 special operations at high altitude, gathering intelligence about Soviet air defences and Egyptian radar capability in the run-up to the Suez crisis. After a spell as adjutant at RAF Gaydon, a V bomber base, his final posting was to North Luffenham. There he shared the responsibility with an American office for three Thor ballistic nuclear missiles. He left the service in 1961, after 22 years, in the rank of squadron leader. Wellum had married, in 1943, Dorothy Grace Neil, with whom he was to have three children: Anna was flight attendant and now works part-time in the NHS; Deborah, who died in 2017, had a career in the music business, notably with Apple Records; and Neil has been latterly a senior marine environmental inspector and manager. The family settled in Epping, Essex. Wellum joined a family haulage business, but this went bust and afterwards he worked as a sugar broker in the City. His marriage ended in divorce in 1975 and six years later he retired to Mullion, on the Lizard peninsula in Cornwall. He sang in the choir in Mullion and liked to help the cove fishermen. Wellum eventually became the deputy harbourmaster. He was a regular at his local pub, having never lost his taste for English bitter. Wellum insisted that the drink be served in a tankard with a handle, the same as it had been at the White Hart in Brasted during the height of the Battle of Britain. Geoffrey Wellum, wartime fighter pilot and author, was born on August 4, 1921. He died on July 18, 2018, aged 96
  14. 4 points
  15. 4 points
    A few more of Dogz. Crash, Jabo, Painless, Friar, Fenrir Caption contest... Ivan (Son of Gec), Fenrir, Sid Jabo, Painless, BluBear
  16. 4 points
    Not a stick but I'm seriously looking at treating myself to something like this;
  17. 4 points
    To be fair I was on that side of the road a lot 😏
  18. 4 points
    Airfix 1/48 Hawker Fury Scratch built pit , rescribed panel lines and reworked radiator Paints were Vallejo acryllic aluminium and humbrol silver from a spray can Kit decals EZ line and E string fron guitar rigging
  19. 4 points
    It flies! P-47 'Nellie' (G-THUN) about to touchdown after a test sortie from her Duxford home (At least I think it's Duxford - don't remember all those trees though). This is going to freakin' AWESOME (as long as they open the taps a bit and not just have her stooging around with Sally B!) (Not my photo - it's in focus - Credit to Duxman over at the Historic Aviation forum)
  20. 4 points
    Thanks to Fenrir mentioning Artie having bumped/bounced on take off during our session last Thursday, finally found and fixed the rather annoying bug where one would be flying along nicely, and suddenly one's aircraft is being removed from midair ... POOF! That would always occur three minutes after one had landed. Makes sense, we do not want you to have tea and biscuits in cockpit. The mess! (Yes, that's the proper place to have those, apart from ground crew having to clean your pit). Artie bouncing meant the server probably thought he'd landed at take off. Somehow I've managed to add a test to the removal script, so it will only happen to AI aircraft... and within one minute now, not after three. Now you may think your a/c will stay on the field for like ever after you've landed, but no, unless you stay in the cockpit, once you press escape, your aircraft will be set to AI status, and then poofed after one minute. Disclaimer: only limited testing has been done, there's a good chance that during the mission running lots of blue ai aircraft occupy their home bases after having landed ... oh well, will deal with that once that happens...
  21. 4 points
    It's Spring! This morning my lawn is indeed lime green!! Lets see, Stonehenge is about seventy miles up the road from me, the Caucasus must be around three and a half thousand miles from me - and possibly in another continent - about the same distance as St. Johns, Newfoundland - so yes; it could be something in the water lol!! I had to drive past Stonehenge twice last week. It stands on a chalky meadow on the southern part of Salisbury Plain overlooking the A303, the main road to the west. Grass was...well, greeny as usual Thirty-two years ago I was at University in London. I did a spot of part time motorcycle courier work to keep the cash coming in too. In my second year I had a couple of lectures on a Thursday morning and then zilch until a tutorial on Monday afternoon. My mum lived in Devon - about one hundred and fifty miles away - and had recently been widowed. She was struggling with this; we all were and I was the nearest and most available of her sons. I discovered the courier firm I worked for had a job no one wanted to do - which made it a very lucrative job; pick up a wages tape from the offices of Barclays bank in west London before five o'clock on a Thursday afternoon and deliver it to a block house type building on an industrial estate just outside Exeter - in Devon - by midnight. By the most direct route this was one hundred and fifty-seven miles and you'd end up on the other side of the country late on a Thursday night with the prospect of a long and unpaid trip back to London. Thats why no one wanted to do it. However, for me it was perfect; a nice little earner and a long weekend at home with mum and seeing friends. I had a Suzuki GS850 with shaft drive, fixed panniers, a howling Yoshimura four into one and a nice big five gallon gas tank. The worst part of the business was the trip down to west London for the pick up and out onto the M3 motorway during afternoon rush hour traffic. After a couple of weeks I discovered the bank office was manned twenty four seven by their security staff. I could ignore the afternoon deadline for pick up and scoop it up around seven p.m. and avoid the evening traffic. As you leave the M3 motorway and join the A303 you pass a large green traffic sign that says 'The South West'. I love this sign. To me it says beaches, sunshine, rolling green hills, friends and family. It was also the point where I really opened the taps on my big GS and settled in for my own personal TT race across southern England. These days the A303 is largely a straight piece of anonymous dual carriageway but back then it was mostly a hundred and twenty miles of sinuous two-lane black top snaking westwards across the counties of Hampshire, Wiltshire, Somerset and Devon. Through the Spring I'd do the trip non-stop. As long as I dawdled down and out of London I had enough gas in the tank for the whole trip. If you wound the big GS up through the gears and then held it at around one hundred mph you'd get 'er down to around twenty - twenty five to the gallon!. After the summer break I took this job up again and as autumn set in I fitted a bikini fairing from a GS1000S which surprisingly helped with fuel consumption, the small screen helped to deflect wind blast too. I also fitted an (illegal) 85w halogen bulb into the big headlight for the onset of winter. I took to taking a thermos flask of coffee and some sandwiches with me and breaking the journey. A GS850 is not the lightest nor most nimble of motorcycles at around 550lbs but that sheer mass gives a certain planted feel to front and rear tyres. If you know the road you can get into the groove of things...if you know what I mean. No speed cameras and no radar back then either. Stonehenge marked the midway point on my journey. At night, and at speed you would come off that short section of dual carraigeway called the Amesbury bypass and follow that white line into a fast right-hand bend before the road briefly straightened out over the crest of a hill. Then at the moment you started to lean it into the following down hill left-hander you'd get a brief glimpse of the stones on the rising meadow a couple of hundred yards away. A minor road branching off to the right went up a gentle hill to make the northern field boundary. I ignored Stonehenge. I'd usually stop for coffee and a cigarette in a protected layby a couple of miles further up the road. One bollock-freezing, crystal clear night in late October I came hammering westwards past Amesbury at around a hundred and twenty. There on the left was a reflection of tail lights which rapidly grew into a blue and white Rover SDI of the Wiltshire Constabulary parked up at the side of the road. Oh shit. Sure enough, as I howled passed his lights came on and I knew he'd want to pull me. There is simply no point in trying to outrun the rozzers on a motorcycle. It can only end in pain of one sort or another. Much better to hide! As I crested the hill I knew they'd only just got their Rover going so I went straight on up the minor road to the stones on the right, switched my lights and engine off and coasted into the Stonehenge visitor centre car park. There was no other traffic around but I got to see the headlights of a fast moving car heading west along the A303 away from me. Phew. I broke out the coffee, sarnies and had two cigarettes. From then on I always stopped at the stones for a break. The visitor centre was surprisingly grotty and closed. If the car park was empty I'd climb over the chest high fence and have my little picnic in the dark, sitting amongst the stones and watching the occasional passing traffic below and listen to the slumbering sheep that also occupied the field. Christmas came and with it a three week break at home. The second Thursday evening in January saw me pull up as usual in the car park. I noticed the fence now had a length of barbed wire running along the top but since it was still chest high it hardly presented an obstacle. The sheep were gone. I'd just sat down amongst the stones when I saw a pair of headlights come on directly to the south by a stand of trees. Around a half a mile away. It was just after nine at night and I watched these lights trundle leisurely towards me along a track in the fields. They crossed the A303 and headed up the minor road and did a sweep of the car park. I thought about the new barbed wire on the fence, the absence of sheep and realised I was about to get nicked. Sure enough, the headlights belonged to a little white van marked 'Department of the Enviroment Security' from which emerged what turned out to be a nice man in uniform who escorted me off the premises. Luckily thats all he could do as he had no powers of arrest! He also explained that when I jumped the fence I'd set off an alarm and by walking over to the stones I'd triggered two pressure pads. Ah well, all good things must come to an end. Infact, not long afterwards the job itself came to an end when they started sending the contents of the tape down a telephone line. Apologies for this rambling nonsense having bugger all to do with DCS.
  22. 4 points
    Happy Birthday Royal Air Force! Some of you may remember that I said my Grandfather was a founder member of the Royal Air Force, this local newspaper article gives a good account of his involvement. My brother, who has done a lot of family research, put it together. Stephen Bullock...? Who's he?
  23. 3 points
    Been promising this for a while now and - finally! - managed to complete it this evening. Hope it is of some use. DCS Spitfire LF.IX Engine Setting & Fuel Consumption Quick Reference Guide.pdf
  24. 3 points
    Thanks for an intresting trip report. Nicely done Chris. Do you or anyone know which airfield that was used in the movie: Twelve o' clock High from 1949 with Gregory peck? You mentioned Big Beautiful Dog. Here she is one day prior to the crash. Duxford 2011.
  25. 3 points
    Sim flying can get a bit silly. Still, awesome PC+ top of the range controllers+VR+motion platform is an awful lot cheaper than owning a plane and lets face it WHEN you mess up all you do is hit re-fly
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