Birthday boy gets lifetime buzz!

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JOHN BARGH stands beside the Sport and Vintage Aviation Society’s Harvard. - Picture by Kevin Ball.

WE were tootling along at 120 knots when John Bargh’s voice came through the headset: “Hi there in the back, you ready for some aerobatics?” I fumble for the key at the right of the cockpit, “Yup”. “Harness secure?” “Yup.” “OK, I’m going to dive to build up airspeed and then we’ll do a loop.”

The nose tilts gently forward and I watch the airspeed indicator in front of me wind through 130, 140, 150, 160, 170. I’m thinking “that must be around 200mph” and reach for a handhold. My arm refuses to raise. Centrifugal force pins me to the seat. Looking forward past John’s head I can see sky and then the ground as we pass through 180 degrees and dive again. The adrenalin’s flowing.

“You OK?” “Bloody brilliant.”

A roll. That’s scarier, the stomach lurches, but still great. Then another roll that leaves me briefly hanging upside-down in my harness. No problem: I’m experienced enough with full harnesses, thanks to motorsport, to have total confidence in them. And I’m enough of an adrenalin junkie to revel in the rush. John’s not so pleased though: “I stuffed that up,” he says. The zero G that left me hanging is apparently a no-no, although the Harvard rumbles on, unconcerned.

Rumbling on is what Harvard 33 has been doing since World War II. In fact the pair of us have probably been rumbling along for the same length of time. I was born in November 1941 (today’s ride is an amazing 60th birthday present from son Graham and daughter-in-law Mary), while the Harvard, built by the North American Aviation Corp as an advanced trainer, arrived in New Zealand in April 1943, one of 105 delivered to the RNZAF.

“Harvard” was an RAF designation; North Americans named it the T-6 Texan, and it made its first flight in 1940. The aircraft was the advanced trainer for most of the Allied pilots who flew in World War II, a transition aircraft from basic trainers such as the Tiger Moth and the front-line fighter aircraft which took the air war to the enemy.

The Harvard introduced several hundred thousand pilots in 34 countries to advanced flying. A total of 15,495 of the aircraft were built, and although they were most famous as trainers they also won honours in that war and the early days of the Korean War.

The Harvard was an evolution of North American’s BC-1 basic combat trainer, first produced for the US Army Air Corps with fixed landing gear in 1937. It was designed as a low-cost trainer with all the characteristics of a high-speed fighter. The layout of the Harvard cockpit was identical to the Mustang, to aid pilot transition. And a flaps-up landing in a Harvard was similar to a flaps-down Mustang landing.

Although not as fast as a fighter, the Harvard was easy to maintain and repair, had more maneuvrability and was easier to handle. A pilot’s aircraft, it was fully aerobatic and gave the best possible training in all types of tactics, from ground strafing to bombardment and aerial dogfighting, and contained such versatile equipment as bomb racks, blind flying instrumentation, gun and standard cameras, fixed and flexible guns and just about every other device that military pilots had to operate.

My earliest memory of the Harvards was a flight of them thundering over my primary school in Whangarei, probably in the late 1940s. The noise was unforgettable, and even today makes the aircraft instantly identifiable. The roar of the Harvard comes from its 550hp radial Pratt and Whitney Wasp engine coupled to a 9 foot Hamilton Standard propeller whose tips reach sonic speeds. No wonder it’s noisy! It’s a big, lazy donkey, on this trip 2000rpm giving a comfortable 120knots. With full tanks totalling 252 litres that gives a range of 870 miles. But it’s not cheap – it costs around $400 an hour to keep it in the air. When you go for a ride in it, pilot and passenger share costs.

The meter starts ticking from the time the big engine coughs into life and we taxi across the main runway (briefly interrupting the drag-racing), during take-off on the eastern grass strip, during a flight to Martinborough and return, including the aerobatics, and back to shut-down at Hood. Amazingly, only half an hour has passed. It feels like much longer.

For pilot John Bargh today’s flight is a labour of love. A topdressing pilot for 25 years, he first flew the Harvard 15 years ago. “It’s delightful,” he said. “The more you fly it, the more you want to fly it.” “It’s got quite a stable feeling ... it just sits there, and the controls are well harmonised. “We’re lucky here,” he sys. “Anywhere else in the world it’s pretty hard to get into a Harvard.”

He’s one of eight to 10 people who fly the old warbird. They and another 20 also fly the Tiger Moth (a $75 membership fee gets you a ride in that), and there’s also a Piper Cub in the hangar at Hood Aerodrome. “We’re always looking for new members, particularly flying members,” John says.

No mention of the Sport and Vintage Aviation Society would be complete without mention of club president Tom Williams. As a youngster he dreamt of flying, and in 1956, when he was 16, he gained his pilot’s licence. “In those days Tiger Moths were the only option,” he said. He bought one for the princely sum of £400, ZK-BAT, which he still owns and which is one of the stars of the society.

Twenty-seven years ago Tom and a couple of friends, noting the disappearance of many notable old aircraft, decided they should do something to preserve them. The result was the society, which today is going from strength to strength, with a museum going together and plans well advanced for the 2003 Wings Over Wairarapa airshow.

The collection is something all Wairarapa people should be proud of. Even if you’re not a pilot, there’s always work to be done, and the Tiger Moth ride is a real bonus.

But for the ultimate buzz, literally, save your pennies and line up for the Harvard.

(c)