Here Comes the Caribou!

CLICK HERE to read about Caribous, Cattle and Crossbows. 

"Tail Up!"

The P-40 Kittyhawk in action.

"Hawk Taking Flight."

A Royal Australian Air Force BAE Hawk 127 takes to the air at Broome, Western Australia.

"Crowd Pleaser."

A RAAF CA-18 Mustang makes its final approach under the keen eyes of the growing crowd.

CLICK HERE for more 'Mustangs and Memories'.

Check back soon for the next "Five Tips" article. This time we look at undertaking flight tests and upgrading your licence.

One Night Over Europe.

It’s 4am and I’m writing as usual. The pre-dawn hours are always the quietest and friendliest to put my thoughts into words.  Similarly, these wee hours are often the busiest for long-haul flight crews around the world as their destination draws closer. The galley begins to stir as the cabin crew ready breakfast for the sleeping passengers, while the flight crew begins to gather the latest weather and load an ‘arrival’ into the Flight Management Computer. The long hours of darkness that have passed are now building towards the final, high workload hour of the flight and a timely arrival for the hundreds of people on board.

The smell of coffee pervades the flight deck and the balance of the crew leave their bunks to join the pilots ‘on watch’, as all hands will be on deck for the final stage of the journey. The glow of city lights below offer up a luminous map for orientation and those reliable engines continue to hum, just as they have for hour after hour through the night. This very scene is being enacted on board numerous airliners around the world as I tap the keyboard in the solitude of my ‘study’ and I recall one of the first nights I experienced that scene myself.

After a night in Bangkok, we had weaved our way over the Bay of Bengal, past India, Pakistan and onto Afghanistan where military air traffic was displayed as anonymous blips on the flight panel and ‘Boss Man’ radioed our clearance through the airspace over Kabul. Over Eastern Europe the scratchy transmissions of HF radio had given way to the clearer tones of VHF, although the deep, broad accents still made comprehension difficult, even if the reception was clear. For a boy from the suburbs of Sydney with a lifetime of flying within the Australian coastlines, it was brave new world; but one that I found fascinating.

All through the night I had tracked our progress in an old atlas, progressively moving a small adhesive red arrow along the page. Aside from a tremendous aid for orientation, I found that the atlas brought the journey alive in a way that the moving triangle and magenta line of the ‘Nav Display’ just couldn’t manage. Despite cruising in the darkness, the terrain below seemed to come alive from the coloured topographical maps and the smaller cities which may have lacked any aeronautical significance were often rich in other ways. As my index finger pushed along the page and over borders, I was a student in history and geography as well as a pilot.

But it was as I approached Western Europe that first time that my interest was truly peaked. The nations that had filled my text-books and imagination as a lad were now beginning to slip under the nose of the Boeing 747. Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium and France seemed as though you could throw a net over them and yet it is hard to imagine cramming their combined history into a galaxy, let alone such a small patch of land. To the west a dark strip appeared and the absence of light was no doubt the English Channel where Armadas had once sailed and furious battles aloft had seen Spitfires and Messerschmitts clash. Dawn was still a little way off as the Thames appeared, weaving through the densely lit city of London as we lined up to land at Heathrow.

As the air traffic controller unhurriedly spoke to a multitude of aeroplanes, we began to extend flap and lower the landing gear to comply with speed restrictions and ready for landing. All the while the wonders of automation steered the course and allowed the crew the brain-space to manage the giant Boeing through its final, busy moments of flight before disengaging the autopilot and rejoining the earth.

That night as the joys of jet-lag had me staring at the ceiling in lieu of tedious infomercials, I relived that final hour of flight and the amazing descent time after time. I would prop up on one elbow and flick through the atlas, before lying back down and piecing together the flightpath and its historical tale. But there was something more, this very route had been flown so very differently many years before. As I recalled the glow of our flight panel and its colourful, informative displays, the warmth of the flight deck and the convenience of the coffee cup holders, I thought of young men who never knew such luxury.

These were the crews of Bomber Command in World War Two. Freezing in their deafening Lancasters, Halifaxes, Wellingtons and the like, the sight of the Thames would have meant so very much more. It was the first hint that they might have just defied the odds and survived the night. Even so, their aircraft may have been limping home, battle damaged after the crossed beams had caught them and the anti-aircraft fire brutalised them. Some of the crew may have been bandaged and bleeding, praying for the moment when the wheels again touched down on the soil of Mother England between the blazing paths of FIDO that lit the runway’s edge.

They may well have not seen the Thames or the blacked out city of London, hidden beneath a low cover of English stratus. Feeling their way back home, edging down foot by foot until their base, or any suitable airfield offered them salvation. There was no galley stirring with crew, or omelettes on the hot plate for these young men and I felt a pang of guilt and indebtedness as I recalled the comfortable wonder of my flight. They were so very young, with a chap in his mid-twenties almost qualifying as an old man. At an age when I was concerned about batting orders and Friday nights, these young men were sacrificing their tomorrows. Mere boys at the helm of lumbering machines, launching into the darkened war-torn skies with a poor chance of ever making it back. Those in Bomber Command had a loss rate of over 40 per cent and more than 50,000 young men never came home. One of those was a family friend; Bob Eggins.

I continued to be in awe of that descent into London for my remaining time in international operations. It is truly a remarkable experience to watch such a remarkable portion of our planet unfold before you. However, my wonder was always tinged with a different kind of awe and a great deal of respect after that sleepless night in a South Kensington hotel room. I would take a moment to remember those who had gone before and those who had fallen, for my remarkable journey has only been possible by virtue of their ultimate sacrifice one night over Europe.

In Memory of
Flying Officer Robert Bruce Eggins
467 Squadron RAAF
Killed in Action 4th March 1945
Aged 20.
Lest We Forget.

"We Lead. Others Follow."

A RAAF Pathfinder's Story. (Part Three)

CLICK HERE for Part Two.

.....On one operation, with flak bursting around them, a fragment pierced the Lancaster and flashed past his fellow Navigator’s face, nicking the switch on his oxygen mask. “A couple of inches either way and he would have caught it”. Selwyn adds.

In March of 1945, three log-book entries stand out. Firstly, because they are daylight raids on Cologne, Essen and Dortmund. Secondly, they bear the notation, “1000 bombers”. These were the famous raids in conjunction with the Americans where bombers filled the skies. Selwyn remembers that forming up was one of the greatest challenges, not to mention that there was “no love lost between the Yanks and the RAF. The Yanks had better uniforms and pay than us and I never met one that didn’t remind us of the fact.”  Once the bombers had rendezvoused, they flew with only 500 feet vertical separation which led to unfortunate instances where bombs were dropped on their own aircraft.

In the midst of such horrendous warfare, there are lighter moments which reinstate Selwyn’s smile. “On one occasion we were told we were not going; we were stood down. The crew then proceeded to have a few drinks at the bar when someone changed their mind and told us to go.” With the tone of a nineteen year old, Selwyn admits that the oxygen was used to offset the effects of a couple of beers on this rare occasion. Another time, venturing out from their Nissen Hut and the pot-belly stove, the crew visited London and was caught up in a V1 attack. “We had heard V2s go over on occasions, but this V1 hit London, not far from us.” Naturally curious, Selwyn and Co. went to inspect the scene. and “Very nearly got arrested.”

The RAF’s last bombing sortie was flown from Downham Market on the night of 2nd May 1945. Selwyn was not a part of it with his crew having flown their 43rd and final sortie on April 18th, a 1,000 bomber raid over Heligoland. A number of subsequent trips were as a “Blighty Express”, returning POWs to England. By September, with the war over, Selwyn was on his way home to Australia after 2 ½ years abroad. One last order of business before he embarked involved the award of the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC). The Citation reads;

"PILOT OFFICER BOOTH has completed numerous missions against the enemy, in the course of which he has invariably displayed the utmost fortitude, courage and devotion to duty."

Rather than rest on his laurels, Selwyn is VERY quick to point out that both he and his pilot, FLTLT Ottaway, received the DFC, yet none of the other crew did. He states simply, “We were commissioned and the rest of the crew wasn’t” and they didn’t receive the non-commissioned equivalent, the Distinguished Flying Medal. He laments that the rest of the crew took all of the same risks and contributed equally to the crew’s success, yet the officers received the awards. Again, modesty and humility is very evident.

In the 1980s, Selwyn travelled to Europe and visited Germany at sea level. He was struck by the Church Tower at Cologne which had survived the bombings, just as St. Pauls had remained in spite of the blitz on London. On the same trip he ventured out to Downham Market and the remnants of a once vital cog in Bomber Command’s machine. Some Nissen Huts remained as did the Church and a memorial to the Pathfinders, however the airstrip from which he had operated was now overgrown. As with many veterans of conflict, reflection is very often stated with the simplest recollections. For Selwyn the breakfast table at the Mess was the scene of so many faces; faces that may not be there tomorrow. Or spaces at that same table the next morning for reasons that no-one need state. When squadron losses are quoted, Selwyn applies human arithmetic, “That’s seven dead per aeroplane.” Sixty years on, the significance of what was achieved and what was lost has not faded. To those, like Selwyn, for whom history is not a textbook but the experience of their youth such recollections are very real. They are not second hand facts. They were Pathfinders, an elite unit in Harris’ Bomber Command, but most of all they were young men. Seven young men per aeroplane.

"We Lead. Others Follow."

A RAAF Pathfinder's Story. (Part Two)

CLICK HERE for Part One.

.....Baker would remain CO until March the following year at which time he had completed a daunting 100 operational sorties.

Downham Market was one the numerous launching pads from which, night after night, armadas of Stirlings, Mosquitoes and Lancasters launched into the black oblivion. Laden with men and munitions, they would hold their course in the face of daunting odds and menacing searchlights to deliver their bomb load to the very heart of the Third Reich. On missions that could typically last in excess of eight hours, the crew had only their layered clothing and leather helmets to protect them from the blizzard of high altitude and the deafening drone of the roaring engines. Yet this is exactly what these young men did and at a very high rate of attrition in terms of men and machines. From Downham Market alone, 160 aircraft and around 900 lives were lost on operations.

In the face of statistics and the law of probability, Selwyn and his crew survived 43 missions as Pathfinders. With a wry smile and still an air of disbelief, he rates his escape on only the crew’s second mission as probably their luckiest escape. On the night of 23rd October 1944, Lancaster “M for Mike” and its crew was holding overhead at Downham Market having survived a raid on Essen. The Engineer, like the rest of his crew, was new at his task and it is suspected that he experienced some ‘finger trouble’ in managing the fuel selection. As a consequence, two engines failed and the Lanc was left to make a two-engine approach at night. Things then further went awry after touchdown as the Lancaster overshot the field and ploughed through an adjacent paddock, collecting two 18,000 Volt transformers and the associated power lines. Breaking its back in the process, the Lancaster came to rest and the uninjured crew evacuated with due haste and scampered clear of the crippled bomber. Crippled but still potent, as Selwyn adds, “We also had a 500lb bomb hung up at the time.” Two engines out, a crash landing, high voltage power lines and live ordinance; all on the second mission.

Whilst not all missions ended with such drama, the pre-flight routine was fairly standard and being in the Pathfinders did have some advantages as Selwyn relates, “We generally got the good equipment and the good food”. If you weren’t involved in a daylight operation, you would spend the morning on standby before a briefing at 1430 hours. Take-off would be planned for around 1830, which would see the crews returning in the wee hours of the morning and undergo an intelligence de-briefing. This was also accompanied by a greatly appreciated meal on their return, regardless of the hour.

Amongst the collection of items Selwyn has in his possession, a chart catches my attention. It is in remarkably good condition and details a mission to Worms on Germany’s Rhine River on a night in February 1945. The crew’s 27th operation, the chart portrays mission planning that is matched by diligence in execution. A meticulous log shadows the green pencil line enroute to the target, every three minutes the actual position is logged against the planned route,  which by direction seems to be in the region of Strasbourg. Then, on the last leg inbound, the track line jinks northward towards Worms in an apparent act of deception to keep the Luftwaffe guessing. Selwyn informs me that such tactics were common, in fact the bombers on occasions crossed the Channel to the North and proceeded over Holland before spearing off to the south. At the target a time, accurate to a fraction of a minute, is boldly boxed and then the track turns to red and points home to England; the accurate plotting continues. A notation of “H2S goes U/S”, identifies that the ground looking navigation system (H2S) has packed it in and won’t be of further use on the way home.

On cross checking the chart with Selwyn’s immaculately maintained log-book, a simple notation, “Good Marking” is the only comment. The log is full of such concise recollections of daytime missions, written in green, and night operations, inked in red; “12 Holes”, “Many Fighters”, “Good Attack”, “Returned on 3 Engines”, “Heavy Flak” and “Very Heavy Flak”. The intensity of the conflict is in no way eroded by the economy of words; it is impact by understatement. Further detail is forthcoming when I delve verbally, though again one senses a refreshing degree of modesty.  The 10th sortie to Duisburg and its comments about Me109s gains my attention. Selwyn recounts, “We were attacked by 109s. There were three attacks and the pilot manoeuvred vigorously to escape the fighters. Seated at our Navigators table, we could feel the positive and negative ‘G’ forces and watched our parachutes alternately sink and float nearby. We lost about 10,000 feet before we were free of the fighters and flew home on three engines.” On their return, the aircraft was found to have collected 10 noteworthy holes for their efforts. Such attention from the fighters often followed being picked up in the beams of the ground-based searchlights. In particular “crossed beams”, where the lumbering bombers were trapped in the gaze of a number of beams. Flak was another great threat to the raiding bombers. “The Ruhr was heavily defended and consequently there was heavy flak there.” Selwyn recalls. On one operation, with flak bursting around them, a fragment pierced the Lancaster and flashed past his fellow Navigator’s face, nicking the switch on his oxygen mask. “A couple of inches either way and he would have caught it”. Selwyn adds.......

Check back here soon for the conclusion to "We Lead. Others Follow."

"We Lead. Others Follow" (Part One)

A RAAF Pathfinders Story.

For those who watched the BBC’s production, “Bomber Crew” there was been a great insight given into the torrid nature of the war in the night skies over Europe. Beyond the footage of heavily laden Lancasters clawing into the air, hunting searchlights and devastation on the ground is a significant undercurrent; one of youth. These were very young men undertaking a very deadly task and from their ranks came an elite group that in the dark of night led the way and marked the targets; these were the Pathfinders.

Selwyn Booth sits quietly across from me; mild-mannered, well-dressed and precise in his choice of words. Years may well weary them, but like many of these aging veterans, Selwyn has a bearing that reflects the pride and determination of a well-spent youth. The memory is clear, the eyes still sharp and at times the corner of the mouth curls up into the grin of a young Navigator who was awarded the DFC.

He hailed from the environs of Kempsey on the NSW north coast where dairy farming, not daylight raids, were the norm. Answering the call in June of 1942, Selwyn was put through the hoops of recruit training in Australia before embarking for Canada in April 1943 where he was to learn his trade under the banner of the Empire Training Scheme. The first five month’s abroad were involved spent initially with No. 8 Bomb and Gunnery School at Lethbridge and then onto Edmonton for Air Observer’s School. Completing his training as an Air Bomber in October, Selwyn could now dispense with the tell-tale white band designating a trainee on his cap and proudly wear the “O” half-wing brevet of qualified aircrew. By month’s end he had landed in England where any number of postings was in the offing with the air war over Europe in full swing and losses mounting as a consequence.

                                                                               Flying Officer Selwyn Booth DFC

RAF Bomber Command was predominantly involved in night bombing operations in an attempt to reduce the staggering losses of daylight raids. This strategy was at the cost of lost precision as locating and then hitting the target became a distinct challenge. In fact, roughly only a quarter of bombs were “on target”, which by definition was within three miles of the aiming point. In 1942, necessity once again mothered invention and the concept of the Pathfinders was put forward.  This involved the creation of a select force whose task was to locate and mark the proposed targets with flares in advance of the main bomber fleet. It called for a higher degree of navigational training and the equipping of Pathfinder aircraft with the latest technology to aid in their challenging task. At first the idea was resisted by the head of Bomber Command, Air Vice Marshall Arthur “Bomber” Harris, as he feared the creation of an ‘elite’ unit would have an adverse impact upon the morale of the majority of bomber crews. Despite his reservations, the Pathfinders were created and in command was placed an Australian, Group Captain Donald Bennett of Toowoomba. A pre-war Officer, Bennett had established a reputation with a series of long distance flights in flying boats and establishment of the Atlantic Ferry organisation that eventually saw the delivery of thousands of aircraft. By virtue of this, Bennett had a keen interest and superior skill in the area of aerial navigation, thus making him a prime candidate for the newly created posting.

Pathfinders proudly wore the distinguishing badge of an eagle on the flap of their left breast pocket. A prized insignia, Selwyn admits, “I don’t think I ever knew what qualified you to wear the badge. I know it wasn’t issued straight away and you had to fly operationally before receiving it.” Whereas a normal Bomber Command tour consisted of thirty operations, the Pathfinders’ tour totaled forty five so as to gain the maximum return on the specialised training and the crews’ experience in marking targets. Marking targets in turn was broken down into responsibilities within the Pathfinders. Finders located the target and marked it initially before Illuminators dropped flares to light up the aiming point. Backers-Up kept the aim point bright by dropping additional flares to keep the target illuminated. All the while an experienced Master Bomber would circle overhead and co-ordinate the attack.

For Selwyn Booth, the trip across the Atlantic had seen his introduction to the heavier bombers in the form of the Halifax. Whilst the opportunity to become a Pathfinder was one to be sought after, selection was fundamentally beyond the individual’s control. “The pilot chose his crew. He had been selected for the Pathfinder Force and then set about picking who he wanted.” Selwyn explained. ”Our pilot, Colin Ottaway, was from Perth, our Tail-Gunner Gordon Cornett and Navigator II Allan Brown were from Sydney and the Wireless Air-Gunner, Wally Blackburn was from Melbourne. The Upper-Gunner and Engineer were both Poms.” Though geographically widespread in their origins, the crew pulled together well and as Selwyn reflects, “We were very compatible”. Due to the higher navigational demands and standards, Pathfinders carried two navigators. Working in tandem, the Navigator II would take sightings and using his H2S, Loran or Gee system determine the aircraft’s position. This information would be relayed to the Nav I who would subsequently plot the track and relay the information to the pilot.

In July of 1943, Selwyn was with No. 1652 Heavy Conversion Unit at RAF Marston Moor. Here he flew with Ottaway as his pilot mastered the Halifax and then set about an Air-to-Sea firing exercise. In September, the crew moved to the Pathfinder Navigation Training Unit at Warboys, Hunts where they were introduced to their new steed, the legendary Avro Lancaster. Selwyn can’t speak highly enough of the bomber that saw him through his operational tour and described its suitability to the demanding task simply as “110%”. The following month it was onto Downham Market in Norfolk and posting to their new unit; 635 Squadron, Pathfinder Force (PFF). The squadron motto, Nos ducimus ceteri secunter, quite fittingly means, “We lead, others follow”. Selwyn’s first familiarisation flight on October 9th was with the Commanding Officer at the helm, Wing Commander S. “Tubby” Baker DSO and Bar, DFC and Bar. Baker would remain CO until March the following year at which time he had completed a daunting 100 operational sorties.

Downham Market was one the numerous launching pads from which, night after night............

Check back soon for Part Two of "We Lead. Others Follow."...

(Image via Matt Hall Racing)

There's Always More in Store for Matt Hall.

As Matt Hall readies himself and his aircraft to set the crowd on fire at this weekend's Formula One Grand Prix in Melbourne, Australia, for some it may be the first time his name has hit the headlines in a little while. However. while all may have seemed quiet at Red Bull Air Race headquarters in 2011, Matt Hall has been doing anything but marking time. The former RAAF fighter pilot has been hard at work on his air displays, launching new ventures and readying his team for the return to air racing.

No Bull.

There were many puzzled looks and unanswered questions when it was announced that the Red Bull Air Race would take a break in 2011 and many of those emanated from the race teams. Out of nowhere the drama and excitement of Formula One air racing was pulled from the headlines and placed into storage in order to, “…fast track the technological advancements currently in the making to improve the already high levels of safety…” and “…revise the main organisation and commercial areas…” Essential issues no doubt, but necessitating the cancellation of a season? Surely, there was more to it.

As I sit with Matt on a quiet afternoon in the NSW Hunter Valley, the adrenalin of screaming engines, towering pylons and max-G turns seems a world away. And so it is, although hopefully not for long. Matt explains that the Red Bull Air Race was like so many aviation undertakings; a great concept, but an average business. The main reason that this occurred was that in a commercial sense, the air race grew much bigger and faster than anyone had foreseen or planned. In a handful of years it had grown from some stock aerobatic aircraft flying a low-level course to highly specialised racing machines entertaining crowded foreshores of the world’s most picturesque cities.

The original business plan saw income being generated by such contributors as sponsors, TV rights, ticket sales and income from the host cities. With Red Bull being synonymous with the air race and plastered over every aeroplane, its brand tended to drown out the message for potential sponsors while television rights suffered the same problems when it came to selling advertising. The income was not quite as forthcoming from some host cities in latter seasons and ticket sales failed to pay their way as well. As they say, “No bucks, no Buck Rogers.”

In terms of technological development, Matt says that there were some key safety measures that had been targeted for implementation. Importantly, a ‘monocoque’ cockpit that would effectively create a singular, immensely strong ‘safety cell’ around the pilot as used in Formula One racing cars. Furthermore, there was a need for seats to be removable, so that pilots could be removed ‘in situ’ from a downed aircraft, minimising potential injuries on extrication. Another safety measure was to relocate the fuel from the wings and into a central fuselage tank.

So it was genuinely reasons of design safety and commercial organisation that drove the air race wheels to a halt, as it was decided that these issues were better rectified in isolation, rather than patched up on the run. For the likes of Matt Hall who had personally invested a significant sum into his new MXS-R race aircraft, the news had an obvious commercial impact. However, personally Matt admits that the year off has been a great chance to catch his breath, spend time with his family and get a real sense of his own company’s business model. Matt explains that, “I ran hard race for eighteen years in the RAAF, only to leave and enter a sprint”. An indication of the demands on an air race pilot was evident when Matt discovered that 212 nights of the previous year were spent in hotel rooms!

With a new CEO at the helm and all business models being examined, the air race may be in limbo, but it is far from gone. Whether it re-emerges as a handful of racing ‘Expo’ flights or a fully fledged Formula One circuit will be founded upon sound business principles this time around. Matt Hall is keen to race once again, but the hiatus of 2011 has offered an opportunity to realign his compass and establish a series of new projects that will continue to complement his air racing when the competition returns.

                                                                Matt Hall's MXS Aircraft at Dusk.

Irons in the Fire.

While the issues with the Red Bull Air Race undoubtedly had an effect on Matt Hall’s plans, they were never going to slow him down. As both an individual and as a brand, he is seen as ‘bankable’ as sponsors like Massel have been there from the outset and are in for the long haul, while recently Aeroshell have come on board, representing a vote in his future direction. Just as he bounced back from skipping the water in the Windsor air race to finish on the podium in Germany, Matt is gearing up to take on new challenges.

One new aspect of his company, ‘Matt Hall Racing’, is addressing corporate clients in the various aspects of the challenges that confront any professional. From the outside looking in, what Matt does in an aeroplane can seem virtually impossible, however he emphasises that, “...it is actually very achievable using the correct strategies and risk management principles”. Additionally, Matt’s proven ability to recover quickly from set-backs on the race circuit or in a combat situation are qualities that can be applied very readily in the corporate sphere as well.  However, the lecture theatre for these addresses are not limited to well lit auditoriums, the sky is literally the limit. Armed with a newly re-engined Extra 300L sporting Matt’s corporate colours, executives can see first hand how Matt practices what he preaches; making the impossible achievable. Still, for those not necessarily in the corporate set, a flight with Matt is not out of reach. He is currently busy developing the opportunity to take some fortunate individuals aloft, “as part of a boutique package which ties in with accommodation and the vineyards here in the Hunter Valley”.

Matt has also been active flying a range of air displays, many of which incorporate the dramatic components of air racing at sea level as well as the attention grabbing manoeuvres such as the hover, tumbling and torque-rolling. The MXS-R race plane is ideal for these displays and remains in race configuration, although Matt has “toned the engine down in the interests of longevity”. For many, the highlight of these displays occurred at the Avalon Air Show in January. With 11,000 views on YouTube, his cockpit camera gave one of the purest insights into the physical demands of his high-G environment. However, the physical demands are equally balanced by the mental challenge of such a performance, from the moment of conception to the execution in front of an awe-struck crowd.

Matt explains that the Avalon display began with a core concept and the music. Firstly, the display, “had to be safe and it had to be spectacular”. Such that it was designed for an engine failure to occur at any point and Matt would be able to land the aircraft where HE wanted. This was achieved by never being below 150 knots when flying below 1,000 feet, which is rather rare in aerobatic displays. For the music, he sought a piece that possessed the correct degree of “build up” in tempo, becoming more aggressive with time. This facilitated Matt to commence with high speed passes initially for the “look at it go” factor, before evolving into more dramatic manoeuvres. Once selected, namely Queen’s “One Vision”, Matt exercised regularly to the music and began putting the pieces in place. The elements included hitting the 4-point roll ‘on beat’, crowd-centre and tail-sliding the MXS-R coincidentally with the music stopping. Such a display is challenging to plan, but phenomenally difficult to execute when synchronised to the crowd’s loudspeakers and the vagaries of wind and weather are added.

Even so, Matt finds the preparation and flying of an air display relatively straightforward compared to air racing. At the heart of each air display are familiar, core components. If conditions call for it, Matt can increase the safety margins of a display by reducing the G-forces or flying it a little higher, with no real effect on the crowd’s experience. In contrast, Matt explains that in air racing, “every race track is different and within that every day is different given the conditions”. Similarly, “if you back off on the G-forces, you can’t physically make the turn and if you fly higher, you lose points”. The is also a huge amount of mental preparation in flying the race circuit and Matt goes into virtual isolation for an hour before the race to clear his head and avoid any distractions. As with all of his endeavours, the correct balance and timing of both mental and the physical components are essential.

On a broader scale, that balance is necessary to keep all of his current undertakings and future ventures in perspective. He has recognised the role of the new social media such as Facebook, Twitter in conjunction with his website, but still maintains the ability to deal competently one-on-one with people from all walks of life. It’s a skill set that serves him well and demonstrates the Matt Hall Racing is a much broader entity than purely Red Bull air-racing; although he looks forward to returning to that challenge too.

                                I have even had the chance to fly with Matt. Great pilot, great bloke.

More in Store.

Whether it is corporate presentations, air show displays or racing on the circuit, the high level of professionalism Matt displays never waivers. Yet for all the pressure, when removed from the cockpit where his focus is singular, he is at heart one of the most affable guys you could ever meet. For my money, that’s another point worth noting; knowing when to switch on and how to switch off.

Perhaps one of the truest indications of Matt’s persona exists in his race number of ‘95’. He could have picked an old squadron number, or the designator of one of his past military fast jets, but he didn’t. He deferred to the savvy judgement of his young son, Mitchell, who thought it appropriate that Dad’s number should be that of “Lightning McQueen”, the ‘rookie that could’ in the original Cars movie. As we all know, that Hollywood blockbuster has just launched a successful sequel and one cannot help but believe that for Matt Hall there is also a lot more in store. Stay tuned.

Make sure that you check out Matt Hall Racing and the 'Impossible Airfield' at the Formula One Grand Prix.

And here's the perfect note to finish on, Matt at work at Avalon.........

          One of the RAAF's F/A-18F Super Hornet takes to the sky for an aerial display.