Cold War Story – Colin C Bibble

Born in 1942, I obviously have few memories of WWII but one remains vivid. It is also the first distinct memory I have of any aircraft. My Mother was working in a munitions factory and I was “lodged” with my Grandparents in Selly Oak, South Birmingham. My Grandfather called me to the front doorstep and pointed up. Coming towards us were some 40/50 aircraft, all in small V formations. Granddad put his hand on my shoulder and said “Don’t worry son, they’re ours.”  Whilst my beloved Granddad made Warrant Office with the R.F.C. in the first war – he wouldn’t have made the Observer Corps in the second – a few minutes later and just south of us, the bombs started exploding!! (Possibly over Coventry?).

It was from the same doorstep that I saw my first Vulcan, (Mk 1.) It seemed as if they were allowed out to “showboat” occasionally, and an impressive sight and sound it made.

I enlisted with The Royal Air Force in 1960 and a couple of years later I was posted with a Canberra PR 9 Squadron in Cyprus. All three of the “V” force aircraft regularly transited through. It always struck me that the Valiant was a wonderful workhorse, the Victor a most beautiful aircraft, but the Vulcan, with its sheer power, climb-out rate and the “howl,” – an animal off its tether. The V force wore their proper coats in those days, anti-flash white. (Sorry, 558, you still look lovely!)

On one particular occasion I had drawn the short straw as “Dispersal Guard”. Everyone else gets go off duty but the D.G. has to hold the keys and patrol the Squadron and the pans until the policeman and his dog arrive at 6.00pm. Not much to do, walk around the pans and kick the aircraft tyres, watch a few incoming aircraft, chase lizards and all sorts of important things like that. Around 5.30 pm I heard an aircraft taxiing to the runway. On this particular day they were taking off from West to East, so I had an excellent view of the Vulcan entering the runway from our pans. Checks, and then roll. The howl starts; off and up she goes with the usual, then, cloud of black smoke. Up and away, over the salt pans, well past Limassol and towards the Troodos mountains.

It is said that there are times when ones heart stands still, I am sure mine did. The Vulcan suddenly turned from a shape into a vivid ball of red flame. A sickening feeling overcame me as I stood and watched helplessly.

But wait, something is registering, she is still climbing, where is the plume of black smoke? Time, I don’t know, after what seemed an age, but was only a few seconds, I realised that what I was still watching was the reflection of the setting sun on her white underside; thank God. And for such a beautiful sight.