Reflections – DH Dominie

The only aircraft available was a Dominie held on strength by the Station Flight. It transpired that I was the only twin qualified pilot on the squadron, albeit that that was nine years previously on Oxfords, but it was good enough so I set about checking out in the beast.

I obtained a copy of the pilot’s notes from the technical library and, saying to myself that it was only a twin engined Tiger Moth, proceeded to acquaint myself with the knobs and tits. The engines had fixed pitch non feathering airscrews and the undercarriage was fixed. The construction was classic fabric, wire and struts but nevertheless, it was an attractive looking aircraft.

I soon had it started and once airborne, after a slow flying check and a few stalls, proceeded to our satellite field a short distance away for some circuits and bumps. After a couple of landings which weren’t too bad, the tower asked me would I take the standby fire crew for a ride. I readily agreed because it was an unexpected chance to see how the aircraft handled fully loaded. The fire crew clambered onboard blissfully unaware that I had never flown the machine before, and I carried on with a few more circuits. When I was satisfied that I had a rough idea of what it was all about, I tipped my practise load out and returned home.

I’m always suspicious when things are going well because I know that shortly such will not be the case. All was ready for us to depart on the Saturday when a query arose about our refuelling at the half way mark. The pilot’s notes warned in large letters that the aircraft was only to be refuelled with 87 octane. The only appropriate airfield was RAF Dishforth, but a check with their operations staff disclosed that they could only supply 100 octane. By chance I discovered from a visiting ferry pilot that it was accepted practise to fuel with 100 octane as an emergency measure, provided the tanks were about half full of 87 octane. So with my fingers crossed, I restarted the countdown.

We duly set off bright and early on the Saturday morning, in reasonable weather for the UK, and proceeded down into England flying very much VFR, as all I had was a four channel VHF set and a map. The ASI was calibrated in MPH which required a conversion to knots for navigation but there were no other problems. We found Dishforth OK, and after a reasonable landing, set about refuelling. As it turned out, I needn’t have worried about the octane rating of the fuel; of much greater concern was the oil consumption of thetwo De Havilland Gipsy Queen engines. I think we took on more oil than petrol!

After a further uneventful flight I found Yeovilton and after parking the aircraft, set off for the tower. Naturally I was in uniform and as I passed through the crowd, I was stopped by a gentleman and asked the way to the flightline as he had lost his way and had a performance to give. I knew the face, but it was only when he mentioned that he was putting on a display in a Spitfire that I realised that it was Jeffery Quill, the famous Spitfire test pilot. Having recovered from my genuflect, I explained that I was a stranger myself but that I thought it was in a certain direction. I must have been right because he was shortly airborne, wringing the poor old Spit out, including his famous square loops.

All went well with our aerobatic team’s display and after a splendid party in the mess that night, we set off the following morning for home. My team of maintainers had obviously had a good night also, because they were soon fast asleep as we droned our way northwards. The weather was not so good on the way back, but apart from having to drape my handkerchief over the VHF control box to keep the rain off, all went well and we duly refuelled at Dishforth.

Once we crossed the Scottish border I had the problem of deciding whether to fly around the Firth of Forth or across it. This arose because the visibility had deteriorated quite markedly and the tired old gyros were noticeably precessing in front of my eyes. I looked back at my passengers sleeping peacefully and decided that it was late on Sunday afternoon and that I wanted to get home, and that it was a long way round. We got across OK but it was a little naughty of me.

Sad to say my last landing was a little firm, but it probably helped to bring my team back to earth in more ways than one.

In conclusion I have the magnificent total of 9 hours 50 minutes in the Dominie, all gained as outlined above, so I can’t profess to be an expert on the marque. However from my limited experience I thought it was quite a pleasant aircraft, well coordinated and certainly viceless.

I understand that a few are still flying in the UK, as well as a couple in Australia; the DH. 89 makes a very pleasant aircraft for vintage flying and is always a hit on the airshow circuit when making an appearance.

The next aircraft is that thoroughbred, the Hunter