This year marks the twenty-fifth anniversary of the first flight of a fighter which, of all post-World War II combat aeroplanes, is perhaps most assured of a prominent place among the true immortals of aviation history the North American F-86 Sabre. Today, a score-and-three years after making its service début with the USAF, the now venerable Sabre remains in the inventories of at least a dozen of the world’s air arms, and as recently as December the Sabre, in the service of Pakistan, was once again firing its sextet of machine guns in anger.

        Many of the remaining Sabres, including the bulk of those on the strength of the Pakistan Air Force, were manufactured under licence by Canadair Limited of Montreal, and it was the Canadair-built Sabre that provided many air forces, including the Royal Air Force, with the means to undertake the tooth-cutting process on swept-wing second-generation jet fighters. On these pages, David Hunt, who flew with the RAF’s Sabre-equipped No 26 Squadron, was a member of its formation acrobatic team, and is now a captain with BEA, recalls his introduction to the Canadair-built Sabre, and his subsequent experience with this fighter, both as a serving RAF pilot and as a civilian test pilot.

        IT WAS BY NO MEANS uncommon in the early ‘fifties to hear in the messes of RAF fighter squadrons a rendering of a popular melody for which new lyrics had been provided, their punchline being: "All we want for Christmas is our wings swept back!" The satirical lyrist originally responsible was, in all probability, an RAAF Meteor pilot voicing his disenchantment at discovering the hard way just what happened when first-generation jet fighters such as the ageing progeny of the Gloster drawing boards tangled with the swept-wing second-generation MiG-15!

        RAF Fighter Command, largely Meteor equipped, was very much a first-generation jet fighter force, and most of the RAF squadrons closest to the iron curtain periphery in the 2nd Tactical Air Force were flying the even less militant Vampire. The next generation of British fighters which was to materialise in the aesthetically-appealing shape of the Hunter was still over the horizon in so far as the squadrons were concerned, and the updating of what had become a sadly outmoded RAF fighter component had become a matter of the most vital urgency. The problem of bridging the gap was resolved by MDAP funds, used to provide 430 Canadair built versions of the North American F-86E Sabre which arrived in the UK during 1952-3.

        There could be little doubt that the Sabre was the best fighter in the world at the time, and the news of its coming was greeted with undisguised enthusiasm in the RAF, and particularly in Germany where I was serving, and where all but two of the RAF’s Sabre squadrons were to be based. The Sabre’s career in the RAF was destined to be of fairly short duration, but during the time that we had the aircraft it met our most sanguine expectations, and I, for one, look back on the Sabre with more affection than I feel for any other aircraft type that I have flown.

        The No 83 Group squadrons on the new airfields near the Belgian and Dutch borders received the first Sabres, but in No 2 Group further east we had to wait until almost the end of 1953 before we could strap ourselves into the ejection seat of the Sabre. It was November, in fact, when a number of us, while on detachment to Sylt for air firing practice, were instructed to proceed forthwith to the conversion unit at

         Wildenrath to commence the transition process to Sabres. Later this task was to be taken over by No. 229 OCU at Chivenor in Devon.

        At Wildenrath, before actually flying the thing, we had to be kitted out with what were to us, at the time, the still-futuristic    trappings of G-suit and "bonedome". These items made us feel rather superior, but "bonedomes" were initially in short supply, and, as I was soon to discover, my head had not swollen sufficiently to fit the somewhat oversize hard hat with which I had been issued, and which did not always move with my head. Any sudden glance over the shoulder took the "bonedome" by surprise, this stylish piece of headgear continuing to face firmly forward with the result that one eye was obscured. These early hard hats were not equipped with visors, and we attempted to remedy this shortcoming by fitting visors of local manufacture. When raised, however, these visors projected way above the top of the "bonedome", and were perfectly positioned to hook on to the rearview mirror as the canopy opened. Our 2,000-yd (1,830-m) runway at Oldenburg at first seemed decidedly on the short side to us Sabre tyros, and it was common practice during a landing to gain a little extra drag by opening the canopy as soon as the wheels were on the ground. The experience of having the visor catch on the rearview mirror with the consequent need to fight off the powerful hood motor’s attempt to garrotte one while the Sabre was burning up the runway at over 100 knots (185 plus km/h) can perhaps best be described as unnerving!

Getting with it

        Before our first flight in the Sabre we practised taxying to familiarise ourselves with the toe brakes and nosewheel steering, the latter being operated through the rudder pedals so long as the appropriate button on the control stick was pressed. The brakes proved to be smooth and powerful, but had no anti-skid device. Like the undercarriage, nosewheel steering, and air brakes, they were powered by a separate "utility" hydraulic system. To me, the Sabre seemed a very sophisticated device compared with the Meteor, the Vampire and the Venom which had provided the sum total of my jet experience to that time. It was not merely the combination of those coveted swept wings with powered controls and a cockpit full of gadgets; the Sabre had that indefinable American "hot ship" image. Even sitting unoccupied on the ground, the Sabre seemed alive, its cockpit full of warning lights and flickering pressure gauges, while the electric pump which pressurised the alternate flying control system emitted a characteristic whine.

        With the battery connected, the canopy could be opened by means of the appropriate button on the fuselage side, and access was simplified by means of ample kick steps, retractable handholds, and the door over the ammunition bay which opened to provide a broad bottom step. Such consideration for the pilot’s well-being was even more apparent inside the cockpit which proved to be a revelation to those of us used only to the British cockpits of the day. The North American T-14E-1 seat perhaps lacked the sophistication of Martin-Baker designs, but it was very comfortable as such devices go, and even ran to padded arm rests which terminated in the triggers for initiating the ejection sequence. Inside the cockpit one gained an impression of sitting on rather than in the Sabre, the base of the canopy being just above waist level. I particularly recall thinking to myself how far away the windscreen and instrument panel seemed, but, in fact, everything needed was extraordinarily to hand.

        Ancillary controls were mostly arranged on horizontal consoles on each side, and it was rarely necessary to move one’s arms from those arm rests. Even the stick was provided with a rest for the hand. This was luxury indeed by comparison with what I had been flying. Centred below the instrument panel was a comprehensive armament panel, which, if all that luxury had taken one’s mind off the purpose of the exercise, served as a reminder of the destructive power controlled from that "throne room" in which the pilot had a choice of either 2.75 psi (0.67 kg/cm2) or 5 psi (0.35 kg/cm2) cabin differential pressure. But the Sabre’s cockpit had still more goodies to offer, such as cockpit temperature control that really worked, and more than adequate facilities for defrosting and demisting. If, in spite of all this, the pilot still suffered fatigue on a long flight, he could inflate the G-suit, which, offering a choice of pressures, was almost as good as a masseur.

        The General Electric J47-GE-13 turbojet delivered a meagre 5,200 lb (2 359 kg) of thrust, and required an external source of power for starting, but it was very reliable and easy to control. An unusual feature was the use of shims of metal, or "mice", screwed inside the lip of the jetpipe to provide a somewhat rudimentary variable nozzle so that the engine could be adjusted on the ground to achieve the optimum JPT (jet pipe temperature). If too many of these "mice" were fitted on one side of the pipe, a small but noticeable amount of rudder trim was called for - an early example of vectored thrust? Also unusual was the combination of HP fuel cock with the power lever, and at least one pilot inadvertently shut down his engine as a result of a little heavy-handedness when throttling back. Fortunately, the relight system was effective.

        The pilot’s notes recommended use of the full 38 degrees of flap extension for take-off, possibly because no flap position indication was provided other than a dab of red paint on its leading edge. With practice, however, we usually selected a take-off position from which it was easier to retract them without exceeding the rather low limiting speed of 175 knots (325 km/h). If this limit was exceeded the flaps very quickly rode up and damaged the wing. During take-off the nose was raised at 95 knots (176 km/h), and the Sabre was flown off in its characteristic nose-high attitude at around 125 knots (233 km/h). Acceleration on the runway was not particularly exhilarating, but once airborne it was important to get the undercarriage up before a speed of 185 knots (343 km/h) was reached, the slats retracting automatically at about 180 knots (334 km/h).

        Overall trim change after take-off was nose up, and the serpent-like trail of exhaust smoke following a pilot’s first take-off in the Sabre revealed his discovery of just how effective the tailplane was. At low altitude and high speed, care was always necessary in order to avoid setting up a rapid porpoising through over-controlling, particularly in turbulent conditions. One squadron commander demonstrated this need for care while making a fast run over the airfield with the unit’s first Sabre, totally unaware that a keen airman had removed all the ammunition, the weight of which was vital to prevent the CG moving too far aft. During gun firing the links and cases were collected internally in order that the CG would remain relatively unchanged, but with the CG well back, the embarrassed squadron commander lost it in a big way at around 600 knots (1,110 km/h), and finished up in a vertical climb with the accelerometer well past its maximum 7g reading.

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