Writing for Fun
May 2015
The First Time - Bob Wendelkin
Ever since he could remember Johnson always wanted to be a Pilot. Perhaps it started that day when his Mother had brought home a RAF surplus flying helmet. His brother had grabbed it but put in on the wrong way round; Johnson got hold of it but this time he put it on correctly.
Whereupon he declared, 'I want to be a Pilot.'
The years passed but he went into another way of life but always in the back of his mind was the desire to fly. Then one day he had a little nest egg given to him and he decided it was time to satisfy that life time ambition.
He went to Southend Airport and to one of the flying clubs that operate from that Airfield.
Jack Robinson, the Chief Flying Instructor of the club took interest in this potential pilot and took him for a trial flight over Southend and at one point he let Johnson take over the controls. Johnson had read all the books on flying; he felt as if he was made to be a pilot. He felt that most of his life had been wasted on just doing his 9 to 5 job. Flying he felt was in his soul but he had now reached that age where he could only ponder on what the life of a flyer would have meant to him.
He never wanted to be a Military Flyer where he may be called upon to shoot at someone; deep down he seemed to feel he had been a flyer in a previous life, as he felt at home in the cockpit. He would have liked to be a Civilian Pilot taking passengers off to their holidays in the sunshine. Now it was all too late; he would have to content himself with flying a single engine light aircraft around the Southend area, but at least he would be in the air.
He signed on straight away as soon as he landed to take the course that would finally lead to him obtaining his Private Pilot's Licence. Over next few months he put in many hours into study and flying.
On one flight his instructor said that he was ready for his first time solo flight. Before he could think the instructor got out of the plane and told him to do a circuit of the airfield then land.
'Good luck, Johnson, safe journey and remember any landing you can walk away from is a good landing, so many happy landings, you are a natural and more than ready for your first time as a solo pilot,' said Jack Robinson as he closed the door and patted the side of the aircraft.
After reporting to Air Traffic Control he asked permission to do a take off and circle of the airfield and that was to be his first solo flight.
Air Control gave him clearance and wished him luck.
Johnson eased the throttle and the engine picked up and he released the brakes and the aircraft started to move forward on to perimeter track and to the end of the runway.
A final call to Traffic Control and he opened the Throttle and the aircraft started to accelerate down the runway. He could feel the plane lift off. He was in the air. He eased the stick back and the aircraft climbed into the blue.
Johnson turned the aircraft towards the River Crouch as he intended to fly round and come back to the airfield along the Thames Estuary. The weather was beautiful but as he approached the Kent coast a heavy cloud appeared ahead of him. It was the sort of cloud he'd never seen before. It looked malignant and menacing with yellow and blood red colours. He shuddered as he looked at it. He tried to avoid it as he didn't have an instrument rating so he wasn't cleared to fly in cloud.
He turned the aircraft and found that whichever way he turned the cloud was always in front of him. From all directions it started to close in on him; finally despite all his manoeuvres he became totally enveloped by this icy cold claustrophobic cloud with the stench of corruption. There was a flash and he was tossed around, sweat poured down his face into his eyes as he fought with the controls. He radioed Southend Airfield . . . no reply.
With great relief he flew out of the cloud into the sunshine. He thanked goodness and relaxed as he was out of that strange cloud.
Across the estuary he could see Southend Pier, but it looked a little unfamiliar, more like the pictures he had seen in the history books, it had buildings at its seaward end. Johnson thought, the sooner I'm down the better. Then he saw another aircraft fast approaching, somehow it seemed strangely familiar with it yellow propeller boss.
Within seconds it flashed past him, but it gave him time to recognise it as a WW II German Me 109 fighter. Its Nazi markings were clear and Johnson thought that there can't be many of these still flying seventy years after the war. There must be an Air Display somewhere, perhaps at Manston.
He watched the Me 109 circling towards him again. He thought that the pilot was playing with him. But this time there seemed to be a little more menace in its approach. Johnson radioed Southend Airfield again . . . still no reply; Johnson felt so very much alone.
The Me 109 returned and drawing alongside him so close that Johnson could clearly see the pilot. The pilot raised his hand and drew it across his throat then jabbed a gloved finger at him. The Me 109 accelerated away and then turned on to an attack course towards him. Johnson could see the distance between them closing, not for the first time that day real blood chilling fear gripped his whole body. He could only watch seemingly paralysed as if in slow motion his whole field of vision was gradually filled with the Me 109's whirling propeller slicing closer and closer towards him. Through the Me 109's windscreen he could see the German pilot almost laughing at him. There was a flash as the planes crashed together. Johnson found himself once more in that malevolent cloud.
Still shaking, he slowly recovered his senses as he burst through into the sunshine. He was still on track for Southend Airfield; the pier appeared normal. Did that cloud shift him back in time?
The radio crackled back to life telling him he was clear to land.
Johnson landed the plane and taxied back to the Flying School where Jack Robertson was waiting to greet him.
'Well it seems you are all clear to fly solo in future. I must admit I did lose sight of you for a few minutes, but it's clear you were well in control,' said Jack.
'Thank you but I think I'll give up flying into cloud.'
Jack could see that Johnson's shirt was saturated in sweat.
'You didn't see a big Red and Yellow cloud did you?' asked Johnson.
'I've never seen it, but there have been stories that it sometimes appears and strange things can happen to anyone who enters it. Did you see that cloud?' asked Jack.
'Of course not,' answered Johnson not wishing to get a reputation as a softy, but he always remembered that cloud and that Me 109, whenever he took off from Southend.
