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The Christening of the Nanton Tiger Moth

Murray Peden is a Dundurn alum, with his book, A Thousand Shall Fall, released in early 2003. In the book, Murry recounts his own experiences as a bomber pilot in World War Two. He learned to fly on the de Havilland Tiger Moth planes at the High River Elementary Flying Training School prior to completing his training and going overseas and onto operational flying.

Recently, out in Nanton, Alberta, the Nanton Lancaster Museum acquired and welcomed into their facility a de Havilland Tiger Moth. In tribute to Murray, they have christened the plane with the number of the plane Murray completed his first solo flight in, way back on May 16th, 1942.

Number 4080 is proudly on display at the Nanton Lancaster Museum. Murray had this to say about the experience of learning to fly:

“To appreciate the great significance of that event to young, would-be pilots at that time,  you have to remember that there were many formidable obstacles to overcome before  one even got to EFTS,  the two main ones being the exceptionally stringent medicals potential aircrew had to pass, and the second being the “likely aptitude”  appraisal  after six weeks at I.T.S. ( Initial Training School.)

I would estimate that less than half our original group got to EFTS in the first place, and that a quarter or a third of them quickly (and disturbingly ) disappeared without a trace after flying training started,  most, you later learned, having being sent to Trenton after a couple of hours’ dual for reappraisal and other jobs.   Amongst the remainder, the temporary survivors,  the atmosphere was pretty tense:  you knew from the relayed stories of the experience of your hundreds of predecessors that the bulk of the ultimately successful cadets would solo after eight to ten hours of dual.  Thus, on each succeeding flight, as you approached that eight-hour figure, the tension increased enormously,  and everyone became an amateur pyschiatrist in attempting to size up his instructor’s attitude toward him.  

Was the instructor starting to look somewhat negative, or somehow showing diminished interest ?  Did he sound overly curt in the instructions he barked through the intercom on the training flights?  Say, wasn’t there something ominous in the fact that he was going back and spending more time on an exercise you had spent time on  two days earlier?

The tension, always high,  became electric when you reached that 8-hour figure, and you heard through the grapevine that some other instructor’s pupil had just soloed — and yet you couldn’t see the slightest change in the rather dubious attitude of your own instructor, no matter how intently you covertly studied him.  

Thus, when that precious moment actually arrived, and you saw the instructor climb out of the front cockpit — without having told you to switch off — it became an event that transcended in memorability all others in life to that point.  (I had 8 hours showing in my log book when I climbed into the Tiger to start my flight that epic morning.) 

Believe me  it was an event never to be forgotten!

My descriptive powers can never begin to  convey the elation  that first solo produced; this was far and away the greatest triumph ever experience.

And that’s why this wonderfully warm gesture of the Nanton Museum’s  is so genuinely touching for me –   sixty-eight years later !     I hope you can understand it.  Going solo at a private flying school, where  you can buy as many hours as you need,  is not even remotely comparable;  it’s flying in a totally different world.”

You can see the video of the Nanton Tiger Moth being wheeled into its christening ceremony here, with Murray’s nephew Hugh as lead piper.

© 2010 Defining Canada.