An older gentleman I worked with flew Swordfish off the Arc Royal. He just missed the Bismarck episode for health reasons in some hospital.
Immigrated to Canada after the war and worked with Canadian Vickers and Canadair as a draftsman on the CF104.
Quite a change in speed over his aviation career.
Back to Swordfish:
"A disarming quirk or two
'The office' in question... that of Swordfish stationed at Arbroath in September 1943. (IWM A 19540)
During my first trip in a Swordfish, I remember being somewhat disturbed because I couldn’t find any obvious way to check the fuel level. Even the fact that I felt an unbound (if misguided) confidence in my ability to put the Swordfish down in any of the open fields below didn’t remove the anxiety. It was only after the flight that I learned the fuel gauge was viewed through a hole in the dashboard, and only then after it had been illuminated by switching on a special electric light.
The particular Swordfish which our unit held ran at quite alarmingly high oil temperatures too. This was another source of minor anxiety, as I progressively reduced the already low boost in an effort to keep the figure below a supposed danger mark. Evidently our Swordfish was one that had had its oil cooler modified for Arctic flying conditions. Either that, or someone had simply failed to connect up the oil cooler properly.
In touch with the elements
Swordfish Mk.1 L7701, from 'The RAF In Pictures, Including Aircraft Of The Fleet Air Arm, 1941, prepared by Major Oliver Stewart. (Courtesy Jenny Scott | flickr.com CC BY-NC 2.0)
Accustomed as we were to rushing around the sky in little transparent canopies, within which there were no particular sensations of either motion or connection with the outside world, you truly felt as if you were airborne when you were sitting in the open cockpit of a Swordfish.
Not only could the air be almost seen as it passed over the wings, but the continuous draught was a reminder that even speeds as low as 90 knots could produce quite a gale.
And up front, beneath the narrow-chord engine cowling, the valve gear could clearly be seen in action, while the metal airscrew flailed around quietly to the accompaniment of a very typical reduction-gear rattle from the trusty Bristol Pegasus engine.
Next post, I’ll step things up eight-fold – in terms of engines; if not weight, power, speed, armament, crew numbers, etc – with Indicator’s comparison of the B-17 and B-24 in RAF service. Two heavies for the price of one! (And then I think we’ll leave the 1940s for a while…)
This review first appeared in Flight magazine of August 29th, 1946,
as part of their In The Air series by ‘Indicator’."