Postby chris willis » January 30th, 2013, 10:10 pm
Whilst chatting to David Ince DFC Hawker Typhoon Pilot last week, I asked him if he could describe what it was like to fly the Tiffie, and he said a flying report was something that he should have done a long time ago, thank you David for doing this, please enjoy
This was David's response
FLYING THE HAWKER TYPHOON
The Typhoon was described by Farnborough Test Pilot Captain Eric (Winkle) Brown as “A great brute of an aircraft – large, heavy, fast and somewhat alarming!” Actually it was all of those things to a degree but, unlike Winkle, I loved it.
The Tiffie was truly massive for a fighter, at seven tons all up almost twice the weight of a Hurricane. There was an aggressive elegance in the thick slightly cranked wings, forward thrusting wide track undercarriage and very visible cannon. The feeling of positive security was further enhanced by the substantial engine and radiator assembly – even if one might have preferred a less vulnerable air cooled alternative! – and there was the satisfaction of knowing that the Typhoon could absorb considerable punishment and get you safely home.
You clambered aboard (quite literally) up the starboard side – the opposite of virtually every contemporary allied fighter. Propeller rotation with the Sabre was similarly the reverse of the Merlin and Allison. So you were warned that the Typhoon needed a boot full of left rudder to prevent it from swinging to starboard on take-off. Rather important this, as the Hurricane, Spitfire, and Mustang swung in the opposite direction.
Here too was a British fighter with the undercarriage and flap controls positioned on the left. No more changing hands on take-off – and quite essential for the de rigeur ending to every sortie – of which more later. On the starboard side, close to where they might otherwise have been fitted, was an array of engine instruments and switches dominated by the big cylinder priming pump.
Early on, ejector exhausts had been found to increase the performance at the expense of carbon monoxide contamination which was a problem already. But 400mph plus was important. So that modification was gratefully received and 100% oxygen became mandatory on every flight.
The superb one piece canopy, high seating position, short nose and the gunsight reflecting straight on to the armoured windscreen, provided the best ever view from a single (piston) engined fighter. Likened by one experienced pilot as “up front on the upper deck of a London bus!” It was a great feeling and within months every other manufacturer, Britsh and American, was trying to follow suit.
For us however the short nose was a mixed blessing. The Typhoon had no front fuselage fuel tank, and you were almost sitting on the engine bearers, with correspondingly high vibration levels. Soon there were ugly rumours about male infertility! (quite untrue) and sprung seats were provided to comfort the chaps, but these bottomed when you pulled any significant g.
Starting the Sabre for the first time was an emotive experience. Having pressurised the fuel lines you grasped the priming pump handle. Aware that each stroke would send a measure of petrol/oil mixture into each of the 24 cylinders – that the correct amount was in some way critical to the air and engine oil temperatures. Get it wrong or touch the throttle, they said, and, as you pressed the booster coil and starter buttons, the whole thing might erupt in flames. So an airman stood by – extinguisher at the ready – prepared to deal with the worst.
A raucous bang from the Coffman starter – the engine coughed, hesitated, spewed sheets of smoke and snarled into life. A marvellous sound like a multitude of thrashing chain drive transmissions. Taxying out, conscious of the instruction to wind on full port rudder trim – to watch the powerful swing to starboard… and I was off.
At +7lb/in boost and 3,700 rpm the sense of power was exhilarating. The acceleration fairly pushed you in the back. Most of those describing their maiden Typhoon take-off, and it was certainly my own experience, failed to keep up and raise the undercarriage and flaps until they were miles away from the airfield!
Despite its size and weight the Typhoon was easy and responsive to fly, just positively stable with generally light stick forces in pitch. The ailerons were a bit heavy, and the roll rate at measured speeds slightly bettered a rather pedestrian 45degrees/second. Whilst the change of directional (rudder) trim with power and speed was very marked.
The high speed stall was quite violent, and the aircraft rolled almost inverted, but could be recovered immediately. The spin was equally violent, and rather erratic, responding slowly to normal recovery action. No panic, one just had to be patient. But it had caused a number of fatal accidents. Aerobatics, although rather satisfactory, took up a lot of sky by the standards of the day. And boy was it fast! Ailerons or not I also have to thank the Tiffie for giving me some of the best slow rolls of my flying life – always slightly barrelled because nobody wanted to risk negative g or oil starvation with that engine.
In overall performance and handling the Typhoon, like the Hurricane before it, seemed to have struck a pretty good balance between the demanding requirements of air combat and the somewhat differing but specific needs of fighter ground attack.
Ground strafing with the four 20mm cannon was most satisfying. That wonderfully stable gun platform… especially in rough air… feeling the recoil… sensing the punch… seeing the shell bursts. The flat trajectory and visible impact made for rapid aiming adjustments and accurate shooting. No training problem here.
The extensive range of ground attack ordnance, together with occasional leaflet and supply operations, was a measure of the growing capability which the aircraft took in its stride. However pilot training in accurate weapon delivery was to remain a critical factor until the squadrons could be put through Armament Practice Camps in the UK. A fascinating consideration and activity. But rather outside the scope of this note.
Back in the circuit, and lowering the wheels, created a brief yawing oscillation, which was quite unique to the Typhoon. Throttled back, with full flap, the approach was very steep . But one soon learned to maintain the speed so that (unlike the Tempest) there was plenty of elevator power for the round out.
Characteristics which were perfect for that de rigeur fighter break at the end of a sortie as you let down in sections of four, tight line astern, and pulled up into the circuit one by one like guardsmen on parade. Perfect because, more than any other aircraft, that rate of descent allowed you to create the highest, tightest possible, circuit – for the leader almost a tilted loop – just time for wheels, flaps, and canopy – merging into the steepest imaginable curved approach. Perfect for the regular public demonstration that your squadron was the best!
At touchdown I’m right back in the here and now. A gentle three pointer and straight as die. Its easy on the Tiffie even cross wind and the brakes have been much improved. I raise my seat to maximum height and lift my boots onto the g pedals. It feels pleasantly cool up here, ruffled by the slipstream, rolling along the runway. And to catch first sight of Chiefy, bless him, standing in the squadron dispersal anxiously counting heads, is always a special moment. Stan and his boys, Typhoon engineers par excellence and a vital part of the team, readying themselves for the last moments of another squadron show.
I thought I'd bring your Tiffie thread back to life with some pics of one I'm building.
