Here are some more extracts from the pen of Jock Fraser in his letters home to “Dear Mum” describing in some detail his activities with the AAFCE Gliding Club.
June 1957
Joined the AAFCE gliding club, only six members so far, and we “affiliate” with a French club at Montargis, about 50km away. Got my French licence to supplement my UK one, and insurance, which says they pay 8% for loss of 3cm of finger, 16% for 7 cm, 100% for “alienation mentale incurable” and 100% for loss of both arms and legs (commonly known as bumming about) – but not what it’s a 100% of ! We get use of their equipment on Thursdays – went two weeks ago but the weather was lousy so no aviating. (contd. Sunday) Went down again on Thursday and the weather was even worse. Spent the morning bashing out technical aviation words with the non-English speaking instructors. Rain stopped by lunchtime so we all trooped down to Vimory village for lunch at long benches at a refectory table in the bar/café. Sardines with tomato salad, clean plate with bread, veal rolls stuffed with vine leaves and mushroom sauce, clean plate with bread, peas in a spicy vinegar sauce, clean plate with bread, green salad, and then cheeses, coffee, peaches and apricots. And 6 bottles of wine between the eight of us to wash it down. And the cost? 425fr = 10/- each!
Weaved unsteadily back to the airfield all burbling happily in mixed French/English/Dutch to find the weather had cleared beautifully and we all got 4 winch launched flights in on the two seaters. Spent the interim driving the cable retrieving truck up and down the strip which was so bumpy it was a relief to get in the air! All the French girls and boys were great fun and we had a great day altogether and learned a lot – especially the club “vache” – if you land outside the airfield it is called “atterisage avec les vache” (landing with the cows) and they’ve a miniature cows head which you have to wear round your neck for four gliding days thereafter to make up for everyone having to drag the aircraft back to the airfield!
11 July 1957
…over a fortnight ago, and a slightly merry party at the Gliding School at Vimory which is now in full (in all senses of the word) swing. With the improvement in the weather we have eventually managed to get plenty of gliding time, still dual of course, and I managed to get 27 and 35 minute flights in. Aero towed off by a poor old ill-treated Tiger Moth which needs the whole airfield to stagger into the “luft” while hauling a 2 seat Nord C800 sailplane which is bigger than the Tiger. We then perform a sort of Oozelum bird in reverse, flying in ever increasing circles to gain height. Takes about 15 minutes to get to 3000 feet when we cast off, from when the flight is timed, and go thermal hunting. It is highly amusing, as M. Adam, the non-English speaking instructor explained (eventually) that the idea is to keep the Tiger Moths top wing on the horizon to keep the correct attitude behind it, i.e. about 15 feet above. Of course at the Tigers cruise we are flying faster then the sailplanes normal and the controls are so sensitive it gets – ah - interesting. Half the time I kept losing the Tiger and put the nose down to see it way below going along with its tail hooked up, and then I’d overcorrect and ended up below it trying to drag it out of the sky or skating off to one side and yanking it sideways. Was very glad when it was time to release the tow, too much like flipping work! No wonder tug pilots are prematurely gray. Still, we all improve, slowly but surely, and when we’ve all graduated, the Tiger Moth will have the longest fuselage you ever saw….
Lunches at the bar in Vimory village are still superb affairs, too, the only difference being in the increasing number of empty bottles each week. Surprisingly enough, we all seem to perform much better after lunch – or perhaps this flying by the seat of the pants is stimulated by alcohol! Had our first “vache” that week when Sqn. Ldr.Counter flying a solo chose a cornfield to land in instead of the airfield. Took us about an hour to manhandle the aircraft out, accompanied by wild Gallic curses and unmistakable threats of violence from a somewhat bloody minded farmer.
That particular day we went down to Vimory in a French 3 ton truck supplied by International MT and driven by a French Armee de l’Air homicidal maniac. Wooden seats, semi solid tyres and chafed cheeks…. When we prepared to come back the truck wouldn’t start. Vile oaths and kickings from Francois the driver having no effect, and his mechanical aptitude being typically French – notable by