The awe of it all & A print dress, a couple of bouncy muscles, and no shoes

The awe of it all – Sometimes just flying around doing the same exercise over and over was quite boring so one afternoon I set the Tiger Moth down into a field which, I thought, was miles from any habitation. I put the parachute in the shade of the mainplane, put my head on it, and planned a snooze. The engine was ticking over, but I heard a voice and it came from a break in the hedge along the edge of the field. A little, old farmer came over and asked, “Can I have a look at your machine? I have never seen one before.” “Yes,” I said “but please don’t go in front of it because it is dangerous.” Very shortly after this, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he was beckoning a lady (his wife) over and, again, I suggested firmly that they keep away from the front of the aeroplane. They had a great time looking into the cockpits, jiggling the ailerons and elevators up and down, and chatting away and then I heard the little, old guy say, “Naw, naw Mable. This is one of them thar fightin’ machines.” Before I took off I had to give them a reason, of course, for landing in his field. I told him that I had to land to cool the engine off. He thought that that was a smart thing to do. The kind people wished me good luck and I never forgot them.

A print dress, a couple of bouncy muscles, and no shoes – One afternoon, I got caught in a severe, prairie dust storm and in trying to get clear of the area I got lost and I couldn’t find a grain elevator with a local name painted on it. I was getting low on petrol, so instead of flying North and South like a lost chicken to find the North Saskatchewan River, I decided to put down and bloody well have someone point to Prince Albert. I saw some persons working in a field and I landed the Tiger Moth in the adjacent field. The boss (the father of the working family) came over and I stated my plight. He pointed in the direction of Prince Albert and I was happy. But before I could get back to the aeroplane, one of the farmer’s daughters arrived to the spot and loudly demanded, “I would like to have a ride in your aeroplane.” “But I don’t have a parachute for you,” I quickly answered. She retorted, “I don’t need a parachute.” “I’m very sorry, but this is an RCAF aircraft and it is against the law for me to take passengers,” I educated her. Her muscles bounced up and down and with gusto she said, “Pa, you tell him unless he gives me a ride I’ll puncture his tire.” The last bit perturbed me. Then I had an idea. I said to her emphatically, “OK, but I’ll have to run the engine up first and when I signal that I’m ready, you get into the front cockpit. “OK?” “OK.” She nodded and grinned with satisfaction. Persons were standing on the field farther down, but I opened the Gypsy Major engine up, closed my eyes, and let ‘er go. There was one thing that I could say about the farmers and their kids in that particular area northwest of Prince Albert – They sure could move with haste when they had to.