Yeah, canopies were opened, sometimes...
"I pulled up alongside Blakeslee. His canopy was wide open, his goggles were on, and at times he peered out from behind his windscreen, which was completely covered by black oil. The whole fuselage was streaked with oil. The big white letters WD-C on the side of his plane were practically obliterated."
Of Col. Don Blakeslee on pg 68, "Tumult in the Clouds" by James Goodson.
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"A few good bursts and the Junkers was on fire. That had not been difficult; my problem now was my lack of speed in getting out of there. I was a fair target and the rear gunner let me have it. My windscreen was suddenly completely covered with oil as I broke down and away from the Junkers toward the sea. I didn't go too low because I could see nothing except through the side. I pulled away, then up to 1500 feet, prepared to bale out if necessary. But my oil pressure needle never moved. Through the side perspex, I saw the Junkers 88 pilot moving smartly to put the burning aircraft down on the water, his quick action the only hope for his crew.
Still my oil pressure and temperature remained constant! It appeared that I had sufficient oil to continue flying, and that I was not suffering any further loss.
A Spitfire is small, and the cockpit is snug. I found that by slowing down, loosening the harness, opening the canopy, and carefully reaching around with my left glove tight to the curve of the perspex to prevent the slipstream from pulling my arm rearward, I was able to wipe the oil off the windscreen, and obtain moderately good vision ahead."
http://www.constable.ca/kennedy.htm--------------
"I concentrated on the rest of the 100-mile flight over the cold North Atlantic, watching the instruments carefully and listening for the first change in the sound of the engine. The canopy around the cockpit was now almost completely covered with oil, so I opened the hatch and reached my left hand into the wind stream to wipe away some of the oil. I succeeded only in smearing the oil around and almost broke my arm from the force of the wind. The open hatch gave me some increased visibility, but the cold air made me shiver.
The Ranger, alerted to the approach of returning planes, had started turning into the wind when I spotted the task force from about 15 miles out. Breaking away from the other planes, I headed straight for the Ranger. I dropped the wheels and tail hook and opened the flaps. Red lights appeared on the instrument panel indicating that my oil pressure was about gone, but the hydraulic system seemed to be functioning.
My first pass over the Carrier was almost crosswise to the flight deck because the ship was heeled over from its turn toward the wind. Looking out the side of the cockpit, I spotted the signal officer giving me an emphatic wave-off.
"Hell, I know I'll never make it around again!" I just barely missed a destroyer as I wrapped the plane into a tight turn and started back toward the carrier. There was no possibility of following the signal officer's hand directions through the oil-covered canopy. However, I had some visibility out the right side of the cockpit, so I placed the island of the ship about where I thought it should be to line up with the flight deck. I chopped the throttle, pulled the stick into my lap to stall the plane, and hoped for the best.
Luckily, my tail hook caught a wire just as I hit the barrier. My right wing also hit the ship's island. As the plane crashed, I released my safety harness and jumped out onto the wing."
http://www.airgroup4.com/book/indx/index1.htm------------------
"One cold November day in 1941, we took off for an exercise. I was on the floor watching the runway rush by under my feet. 500 feet off the end of the runway a glycol coolant line ruptured, spraying glycol over the pilot’s windscreen. Unable to see, he put on his goggles, pushed back the canopy and stuck his head out as he started his turn back to the airport. His goggles immediately covered with glycol. He pulled off his goggles and got the full force of the hot fluid on his eyes rendering him blind.
By this time we were letting down, wheels up, approaching the runway at a ninety-degree angle. Huge drifts of snow paralleled each runway. The Battle hit the first drift belly first ploughing snow up through the hole and forcing me up beside the other Gunner. The aircraft jumped the runway, hit the opposite snow bank forcing in more snow and almost pushing us both out of the cockpit. The aircraft slid to a stop in a nose down, tail up attitude. When the emergency crews arrived we must have been a humorous sight. Two Gunners perched on top of a snow filled cockpit, and the pilot, completely blind, staggering around in the snow,
The Pilot spent a week in hospital but returned to the flight line. He was known as the man with the well-oiled eyeballs. It was the cushion of snow in the gunner’s cockpit that saved us from injury."
http://www.airmuseum.ca/mag/All the best
Cement
