Wings And Things

I Can Only Hope You're DESPERATE To Learn About Airpower

Because that's what this blog is going to be about, along with various tanks and other kit.  For Lo! we are on about the Imperial War Museum at RAF Duxford, and the contents thereof.  They had a fair few armoured vehicles as well, that were moved there from the London museum as 'overflow'.  The whole site is vast, meaning we did a lot of walking.  Fortunately the weather was brilliant, just like high summer.  Art!

Proof!

      Just a note about the photos: the exterior ones were taken with my digital camera, the interior ones on my phone camera, as the daylight was so bright I couldn't see the phone display.  Great problem to have!  Art?

     The map shows how massive the site is.  Weary-footed were we at end of day, also grateful for Mister Sun.  Art!

     A peek into the Conservation Hall, with a Hanomag halftrack mounting an AA gun on the back.  

     Sal wondered why those planes had their wings folded up, so Dad explained that they would have been serving on an aircraft carrier, where space is at a premium, so the wings were hinged to fold upwards.  Cue short discussion about having them fold up mid-flight.  Art!

     The Polaris SLBM (Submarine Launched Ballistic Missile) that I displayed yesteryon.  Sal, absently, wondered how it would be re-used after launching.  I explained that it only gets to be used once, and makes a very loud noise that nobody nearby will get to hear.  Art!

     The RE8, the other end of the air technology spectrum.  Made of a wooden frame covered with fabric, strung with wires under tension, and with a bracing open cockpit and observers position.  It looked quite shoddy, which you might expect of an artefact over 100 years old.  The aircraft was an observation plane, intended to do spotting for artillery batteries far in the rear, vital but deadly dull work.  The observer also had a machine gun, Hun deterrence for the use of.  Art!

The RE8s tail, a thing of beauty in it's own right

        There's a War Department Army Service Corps truck in the middle ground, and in front of it - Art! 

     This is a mobile mechanics' workshop trailer of the ASC, intended to be towed around behind the front lines in France and Flanders to wherever 'twas needed.  It definitely doesn't have wings, so it may be one of the large objects moved from London.  Art!

     Here we meet another First Unpleasantness biplane, the BE2.  This was another reconnaissance plane, doing spotting and photography, plus a little bombing to add a nice frisson, tootling along at a maximum speed of <gasp!> 70 PROUD IMPERIAL MILES PER HOUR.  It took almost half an hour to reach 10,000 feet.   We'll come back to that benchmark metric.  Art!

See Harrier

     The Sea Harrier, the Flying Fiend of the Falklands.  Much smaller than Col expected, because it's indeed a dainty little lady.  Apparently if engaged in a dogfight other pilots found it hard to identify if it was coming or going.  The Harrier pilots had a horrid trick up their sleeve call 'Vector In Flight' or 'Viffing', if an Argentinian plane got on their tail, they would rotate their jet through 90º to the downward position.  This caused the Harrier to leap upwards, meaning the following aircraft to lose any kind of lock they had, and to move into where the Harrier had been.  Meanwhile the Harrier resumed normal flight - now being behind the enemy plane.  Art!

     A couple of shots of the Short (!) Sunderland flying boat, which gobsmacked Col in terms of sheer size and bemused Jul, who had never encountered such an avian species as this one.  Having it sit in the water to take off and land meant no protrusions on the underside, and it has a nice clean streamlined hull.  The large gap in the fuselage under the wing was where bomb or depth charges would be cranked outside to be dropped.  Art!

     The Sunderland from the front, with puny humans for scale.  Art!

      What on earth is this?  No plaque or blurb about it, so Conrad took a photo, guessing it was a Leigh Light.  Art!

     Surprise surprise, it was a Leigh Light.  Not sure how it was attached to the Sunderland, but the general arrangement was that it hung under one wing.  The aircraft mounting it would then dispel black night o'er the ocean an acre at a time, revealing any surfaced U-boats.  The U-boat crews loathed the LL as it was so effective, yah book sucks Herr Schickelgruber.

     The Shorty you see before you was also used by the M8s as a nightclub and bar post-war.  Good luck fitting more than a dozen guests in there at any one time.  Art!

     An assemblage of ordnance, irritatingly not labelled or plaqued.  I can tell that one at the rear is an anti-tank missile, cannot remember the name.  No idea what the whopper at the front is, but I think your best bet is to not be around when it goes off.  The drum magazines on the anti-aircraft machine gun mounting threw me and I thought they were Vickers 'K' guns; but no, they're Bren guns sporting the 100-round drum magazine rather than their normal curved 30-round jobs.  Two guns firing at once would put about 1,000 fast metal pieces in the air per minute.  Art!

     The tail guns of the Sunderland poking into shot.  What we're mostly looking at here is one of the British 'V' bomber force, the Vulcan.  We'll get to the Victor and the Valiant later on.  All 3 were intended to deliver Buckets Of Instant Sunshine to Moscow if the Cold War went pear-shaped.  The Vulcan, handily, has a gaggle of puny humans standing around to demonstrate how massive it is.  As seen in 'Thunderball'.  There is one still flying at air shows, which has to be careful flying over car parks as it's so loud it sets all the alarms off.  Art!

     Once more no wings.  Here we have a Daimler armoured car of the Desert Rats, discernible as such by the jerboa emblem on the bumper.  Sal thought the other was a vulture and she may well be right.  The driver's hatch is raised because they're not expecting trouble; if they were anticipating a hot time ahead the armoured flap would lowered and the driver has then to squint through a gap only slightly bigger than a postage stamp.  The function of an armoured car was to carry out what cavalry used to do in times of old:  screen their own forces and find out what the opposition is doing.  Conrad is fairly certain this vehicle was on  display in London.  Art!

     The Panavia Multi-Role Combat Aircraft, better known as the Tornado.  Conrad remembers having an Airfix kit of it in the early Seventies, before it actually came into service, and here it is gathering dust in a hanger as an exhibit since being retired in 2019.  Possibly most renowned for involvement in 'Operation Telic' where they used Storm Shadows for the first time.  

     Or - was that model kit a Jaguar?  Curse you old age and gin!

     I think that's enough of RAF Duxford for one day.  More to come in future - LOTS more!  I bet you can hardly wait.

I Am Back!

To A Chorus Of 'Were You Away?' Or 'So What' From The Audience

Both of them, the pikers.

     I need to explain that I'm typing this Intro up on Monday evening, after having arrived home from the Imperial War Museum site at RAF Duxford, where I and others have been making a group visit.  The site is HUGE and one needs to walk between the gigantic aircraft hangers to get around, a chore rendered considerably less painful thanks to being in bright sunny warm weather.  

     As with the visit to BOVINGTON TANK MUSEUM last year, I am going to be padding out the blog with a handful of the 198 photographs I took.  There would be more but both camera and phone battery were getting low by 17:00, or seven hours after we entered.  Art!

     The mighty Polaris submarine-launched ballistic missile with a nuclear warhead, or up to three of them*, which kept Brezhnev and the Ruffians in check and being as polite as Ruffians can be.  With Sal and Col for scale.

     ANYWAY as we do on BOOJUM! I would like to return to spifflicating the Ruffians again, this time the descendants of those who were kept polite courtesy of a few 200 kiloton Instant Sunshine Bombs.  Art!

     One rather suspects that 50% of the Ruffian audience are the FSB, eavesdropping on how the global West sees them, and the others are Ruffians who loathe Putinpot with all their being and want him gone.  Have patience.

     ANYWAY AGAIN I would like to lead with 'Preston Stewart', the vlogger whom has his own Youtube channel called - you may be ahead of me here - 'Preston Stewart'.  Prez lead on his channel with the frankly bonkers news that Barad-Duh was burning, and on the eve of Putinpot's sham 'elections', too, which is the cherry on top of the icing on the cake.  To mix baking metaphors.  Art!

     What you see here is Prez's Serious Face, his actual visage on live film is rather more animated and less constipated, and he has a great accent.  His vlog concerned a huge Ukrainian strike on Barad-Duh on the first day of the 'election'.  Art!

     This is how you keep Ruffians polite.  For your information, the Kozaky usually send as many as 400 drones into the entirety of Mordorvia, so this is about x4 times the normal number concentrated on one particular region.

     Art!

     That's the opening scene for 'Blade Runner', which Your Humble Scribe watched at the cinema yes I am that old and - Art!

     The Moscow Oil Refinery is on fire.  On the day the Duma 'elections' take place.  Not a juxtaposition of words Charlie Chipmunk Cheeks ever expected nor wanted to hear.  The Ukrainian attack was documented by 'Clement Molin', the wunderkinder French chap who uses OSINT - 'Open Source Intelligence' which is available to all - to create charts and graphs and maps that - if he stops posting in the near future, means either the CIA or MI6 have recruited him - illustrate the ongoing war.  Art!

     That looks expensive.  Art!

     The Ruffian milblogger 'Rybar', one of the orc's semi-official pro-Putin  posters, explained in detail what had happened.  The Kozaky had launched waves of drones towards Moscow, many of them inert versions carrying NO explosive payload, but ALL of which had to be intercepted, as you cannot tell which drone is carrying 50 kilos of high explosive.  This process uses up the available interceptor missiles and at $1 million per interceptor versus $50,000 for a drone, the Ruffians are eating the credit imbalance.  Then the waves of real drones went in, and the orcs admit at least 11 hit targets, which may be correct or just orc coping.  Those that hit the Moscow refinery had gotten through 140 anti-aircraft systems arranged in 5 concentric circles around Barad-Duh, meaning that the Kozaky can still hit targets in the best-defended city in the world, should they care to.  Art!

     That looks expensive.  

     Prez read out the thoughts of 'Fighter-Bomber', the Ruffian ex-military pilot whom warned that Ukraine would be sending in waves of 1,000 or even up to 4,000 drones, to saturate the orc defences.  This might sound like a paranoid fantasy, but it's not beyond reason; if the Kozaky can produce 400 drones per day and save 100 towards a major incursion each night, this kind of - <ahem> - 'experience' may not be so novel for the orcs in future.

     Bunker Grandad may not be aware of these details as of today, or yesteryon, but even he can see what the results are with his Mark One Human Eyeball if he dips out of the Kremlin at any time.  Art!

     I bet 'Moscow Being Bombed' was not on his 2026 bingo card. 

     Stay polite, Dimya, we here in Perfidious Albion still have 4 'Vanguard' class 'Boomer' nuclear missile subs, one of which is always on patrol and which could deliver 40 Instant Sunshine Bombs on your scrofulitic empire.  One wonders if the Ruffian air defences around Barad-Duh could intercept any of them.  O and that's not counting our M8s, whom have their own Boomer nuclear deterrent.  Art!

     It takes rare precision and skill to unite two nations whom have been at each other's throats for 400 years and have them both hate and unite against you.  But the highest levels of political will in Mordorvia have managed it.  Well done Charlie Chipmunk Cheeks!

More Ungentle Shoeing

Yes, we are back to the Mercilessly Mocking Manchild Moobster, or the bloated sweaty swollen carcass that calls himself Donold Judas Trump.  Sorry if you're a fan of his BUT you ought not to be anywhere near BOOJUM! if you revere the Big Orange Oaf Himself.  Art!

     Showing off his triple chin, and sweaty epidermis, and bloated eyes.  He looks 92 years old, and a bad 92 at that.  Imagine, if you will, Donold trying to cycle 50 yards as per Joe Biden: he would drop dead over the handlebars before 45 yards.  I think this is BOOH trying to push his presence on the ballot, which, since it doesn't and cannot exist, is more 'Pretend The World Is As I Want It To Be'.  You could write a library about him at this pont.  Art!

     Which came first, the Donold or the Salt Vampire or the Donold, or the - ?  Only you can tell!

Cankles Von Yamteats

I have had to contract this Canadistuckistan's Twitter post since their nickname for the treble orange toast-rack is even worse than the original.  Art!

     Conrad unsure if there is any other stupid we can concrete how stupid Cankles Von Yamteats truly is: a basic metric in how much volume of your brain is made out of mashed potatoes?  Maris Piper 1.0 and so on.

     Enough of the Swollen Sweaty Saggy Senile Sepia Sackbutt, let us move on!

Further To The Above

Whilst travelling back to Lesser Sodom, Sal and Tom whom are collectively known as 'The Kids' despite being over 30, were communing together on their Devil's Digital Devices, and became aware that there was a Road Traffic Accident just ahead of us on the motorway.

     Cue a diversion into an 'American Diner' for an early dinner, just short of the tailback forming as a result of an enormous army vehicle colliding with a car.  Art!

     Picture the above BUT WITH SUNSHINE.

     Your Humble Scribe got a 'Blue Berry Gum' shake that meant no other sugar for the next ten days.  Art!

     Yes, so thick the spoon stood upright within it.

     ANYWAY AGAIN once finished, The Kids used their unholy Devil's Digital Technology, known to the rest of you as mobile phones, to work around the back roads to circumvent the traffic backlog and avoid said queue.  Which was pretty impressive to this old dog, I can tell you.

     Still not had any more sugar since, though.

      

STOP WITH THE WALLET-EMPTYING!

Whilst at Duxford, I did avoid purchasing an edition of 'Sand And Steel' that was signed by the author, since I already have a non-signed edition.  I am not saying that I didn't purchase any books, merely that wh

     ANYWAY ANYWAY moving swiftly on, here's said author pimping another book - Art!

     NO NO NO NO!  I am so very NOT buying this book ever ever ever.  Not at least for twelve months and there's a cheap paperback second-hand copy on Abebooks.

     Enough wibble and time for bed.  

*  I think this was the 'Chevaline' modification but don't quote me.

Probably Not AI

There Seems To Be A Focus On AI At Present

As in, It Will Kill Us All! or It Will Make Us All Rich!.  The latter of which is not possible, methinks, as you always need the povs present to be able to appreciate your higher earnings status.  Art!

     Let me clarify that the BAND is 'Camper Van Beethoven' and this unlovely word salad is one of their albums from the Eighties.  Which is way before AI would sweep in and create a fake background history, back from when AI only existed as Mike, the sentient computer that ran all the sy

     ANYWAY enough 'The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress' references - a novel I definitely recommend, and on with the sordid reality.  

The edition I had!

     What we will be looking at later is that vehicle the South Canadians term a 'Camper', but we are getting ahead of ourselves here.

     SO! CVB very probably did not ever consider that their name would eventually grace the Intro of a blog by your very favouritest alien spy Conrad.  The fools*!

    You see, we are now onto the next section of that Youtube saga "Brother Is Doing Silly Pranks On Me", which involves lots of car terminology that I have selflessly tracked down and defined.  Go me.  Art!

     The rascals in question before e'er they knew what an internal combustion engine was, perhaps.  

     ANYWAY as we recall, CW's Man Truck was a collection of clichés in motor form that had been nursed back to health, and which he naturally had to succour with recourse to A DRAG RACE.  Art!

     It was rather less salubrious than this, thanks to the Dodge Ram engine in CW's motor having to be drained of an engine liquor that resembled dirty treacle full of cooked iron suet puddings.   

     Naturally, what else would CW want after his giant Man Truck was rendered effective, but A DRAG RACE! because sequence and accountability do not exist in his world.  In this sense, a drag race is a competition between two cars over a short stretch of ground to see which can hit the finish line first.  NC4M patiently explained that this was a verrrry bad idea, which his brother dealt with in the same manner he's been dealing since the beginning of this Intro: completely ignoring it.

     Not only did the Ram lose, it blew the engine's head gasket, which is a phrase I've read many a-time, with no understanding of what a 'head gasket' was.  Like a 'basket' just a tad different?  Art!

Not suitable for holding groceries

     "When you blow a head gasket, the seal between your engine block and cylinder head fails, allowing coolant, engine oil, and combustion gases to leak into places they should not go"

     It doesn't kill an engine, just makes it run terribly and overheat.  NC4M, proving to be every inch the mechanic they claimed not to be, suggested that his elder idiot brother - who still wanted to drag race a two-out-of-three competition - apply 'Steel Seal' gasket sealer, a product neither you nor I knew existed before that sentence.  Art!

Who knew!

     The smart money says this is a temporary expedient, and that mechanical overhaul is needed to fix a blown gasket, which advice and reasoning was of course completely ignored by CW.  Because you can't fix stupid.  NC4M detailed that the Ram's engine developed a 'tick' that got worse over time.  Conrad makes a wild guess that we're not talking insects or clocks here, just slang for an engine problem.  

"Exhaust Leak: A cracked exhaust manifold or bad gasket lets gases escape. This creates a loud ticking sound that is often worse when the engine is cold"

     So now we know.

     Having prettttty much failed in all the ways a human being can fail, Chad Wannabe took mighty umbrage at his younger brother having a camper, hence today's title.  For the uninitiated out there, including me, a 'camper' is a vehicle (a van) or trailer for temporary accommodation.  CW simply had had had to have a BIGGER camper, and got one dirt cheap, because it was a wreck on wheels.  Who got stuck with helping fix it?  No, Vulnavia, not Lord Lucan.  No-Chrysler-4-Me is whom, the sap.  Art!

A fixer-upper

     In case you're worried, NC4M did say this camper was the last straw and he refused to be the helping hand again.  

     So! the list of accomplishments needing to be done before the camper - whoops, excuse me, The Camper - was fit to inhabit constituted: half the floor needed replacing; rotten wood in the walls had to be replaced; the roof needed re-sealing; a new vent had to - hang on, a new what?  Art!

     - ah, a ventilator for airflow, got it; and lots of black mould needed to be bleached into nothingness.

     Amidst all this work, the cone filter on the Ram blew out, a tragic event I have nil conception of.  NC4M states that it was part of the cold air intake, for which see Part One of this epic.  Art!

     Aha, so it's the cone-shaped filter-y looking gizmo.  Sweet.

     Failures on the Ram accumulated.  It needed a new radiator, water pump and catalytic converters.  The first two items are self-explanatory, but a 'catalytic converter'?  Art!

     Zero illumination.  Hang on - ah.  Quite a complex bit of kit.  Briefly explained, it's a box full of palladium and rhodium - two words you never expected to hear today - that break apart exhaust fumes into less harmful compounds.  With those rare earth metals, a pricey bit of kit as well.

     NC4M also states that the 'dash', the uncouth South Canadian slang for 'dashboard', was held together by 'JB Weld and duct tape'.  Art!

     It's a cold resin, to be used as an alternative to hot welding.  Now we are all better-educated than we were five minutes ago.

     THEN! the headlights failed.  O noes.  THEN! CW broke a U-joint in his drive shaft.  That sounds bad.  Art!

     That's what a U-joint looks like.

     The calamities multiplied.  NC4M had warned his idiot elder brother about buying this car - sorry, MAN TRUCK - and that warning stood true.  THEN! the transmission died.  THEN! the cheapbottom replacement transmission died.  Buying a new transmission would have cost CW more than the Ram cost him in the first place, so it wasn't happening.

     Thus the Ram was well and truly, honestly, deeply out of commission.  Art!

     No, it's not the fusion engine on a light torpedo-bomber from 'The Expanse', which would be cool and property dep

     ANYWAY it's the transmission from a Dodge Ram.  Just so we're clear.

     CW's ex, whom had the good sense to become an ex, took pity on the poor unfortunate creature she used to be in a relationship with and gave her very old, tired Ford minivan to him.  Art!

     Was he grateful?  Not a bit of it!  He hated the minivan because it was, in his words, a 'Chick car' not a MAN TRUCK.  But he had no choice as the Ram was, as observed above, very much a Norwegian Blue parrot at this point.

     Here I shall call a halt, as there is still more about the petulant manchild CW and his camper and car to come, and we're at Count.

CYA!

*  My star-ship invasion force is only 45 light years away, you pikers**

**  Typo.  245 light years away, the pikers.