Alleyn Club Yearbook 114th Issue

Memories of DULWICH

Flying with the CCF in the 1960s Nick Keppe, who was at the College from 1963 to 1969, recounts his time flying at and over the College. When I was in the third form, I joined the RAF section of the CCF. As a boarder I had spare time after school, and the CCF was a great way to spend the early evening. In my first year we were taken to RAF Henlow for gliding experience, and I was immediately hooked on flying. The following year I attended a glider pilot training camp in the holidays, at RAF West Malling, and flew solo at the age of 16. The ‘flying bug’ had taken hold! In my third year with the CCF I competed for a Flying Scholarship, going up against hundreds of others at Biggin Hill’s Assessment Course, and had the good fortune to be one of six selected for pilot training. On a three-week intensive training course during the summer holidays, and at the age of only 17 (before I even had a driving licence), I qualified as a private pilot. Returning to the College in September, I was determined to get in as many flying hours as I could. Wednesday afternoons were devoted to sport, and we were all supposed to be playing rugby, hockey and cricket, whatever. I, on the other hand, decided that my ‘sport’ was flying. I would sneak off to Biggin Hill at lunchtime, and by the time my class colleagues were playing rugby, a bright red plane would appear over Crystal Palace, and ‘dive bomb’ the pitches! Most of the time my classmates knew I was coming, but the Masters coaching knew nothing about it. The story culminated in me being asked to fly the school glider in the College grounds on Founder’s Day. Our glider was launched by pegging the tail into the ground and attaching two long bungee ropes to the front. There were 10 cadets on each bungee, and they pulled and pulled until there was enough tension to allow the pilot to release the tail, and surge forward for a short ‘hop’ into the air. With proud parents watching, along with a large crowd of onlookers, I released the tail hook, shot straight up into the air with the intention of showing off my prowess as a pilot, but stalled, came crashing straight down, and both wings fell off the glider. Squadron Leader Cridland (also my House Master at Ivyholme) was in charge of the RAF section, and I think he spent the next couple of hours trying to work out how to get me court martialled.

Things were a little more relaxed in the mid-1960s, and we certainly got away with a lot more than one would today. Don’t try this at home!

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