Camp Borden, Ontario

It was at the No. 1 Advanced Flying Training School where I got my early wings.

Instructors – It was my fortune to have two wonderful instructors. The first was Flying Officer Farrell, a tall, lean, and quiet Englishman who came to Canada to try and teach colonials certain aviational ways of doing military things. The second was Flight Lieutenant Pop Phillips who was, without a doubt, the greatest forestry pilot to fly in Canada and who was the Superintendent of Algonquin Park in Ontario for many years until his death.

Farrel – Farrel, the Englishman, liked his beer and I believed that his stomach was always hung over. He liked to relax in the back cockpit, so quite often I got to do the piloting I liked without being over-instructed. One bright sunny morning while we were airborne, he said, “Just carry on and do whatever you like.” Well, I did some forced landing approaches, climbing turns and letting-down turns on instruments, and other mild maneuvers until I was bored. Then I got into the stuff that I like the most – aerobatics. For my very first maneuver, I put the aeroplane (a Yale) through a flick or snap or stall roll, which is a rapid, ham-fisted maneuver that any clunk can do. But in doing the first one I heard a kind of CLUMP in the back. As I peered into the rear-view mirror I saw Farrel holding the side of his head. He had, evidently, gone to sleep and when I snapped the old Yale, his head slammed up against a projection or two on the hood. My name was not Philpotts for the next minute or so.