My life in the RAF - chapter 1,2 and 3 (F Dunn)
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My life in the RAF - chapter 1,2 and 3 (F Dunn)
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Autographical account of life at the beginning of the war including service in ARP in Swindon and his reasons for volunteering for the RAF. He registered for military service in February 1941. Awaiting call-up, he had induction at St John's Wood London and did some sight-seeing in London. He describes his journey to Stratford and initial training at 9 ITW. He describes wartime journey for leave. The account continues with move to West Kirby camp and goes on to describe another period of leave. He moved to camp for under training aircrew at Heaton Park, Manchester. He moved to Liverpool to embark for voyage overseas. Goes on to describe a voyage in November 1941, where they stopped at Freetown Sierra Leone but were not allowed ashore.. He continues to describe activities on the voyage to South Africa, including sports with Army personnel on board.
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Thirty-six page handwritten document
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Transcription
My life in the R.A.F.
I hope to give a true account of my activities in the Royal Air Force. I will try not to exagerate, [sic] but just give a true account as I see it. It is not intended to run down service life, but from time to time I hope to give my personal opinion of various incidents, and make a few critiscisms [sic].
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Chapter I
My first inclination to join the Royal Air Force was long before war broke out in 1939. It did not materialise however, largely due to the influence of my father who disliked military service. Strangely enough my mother was quite neutral – she did not wish me to go but on the other hand she did not wish to stand in my light. September 1939 arrived, and poor old Neville (a gentleman to the last and a pacifist) informed us on that fateful Sunday morning that we were at war with Germany. Like other people I was rather bewildered, not knowing what to do. I was feeling quite patriotic and willing to do my bit. However as I was only 18, I was advised by quite a few of the “old sweats” to hang on as long as possible.
Time marched on – my brother was called up into the army in May 1940, and naturally after this (being the only other left at home) my parents persuaded me to stay
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home as long as possible.
I’ll admit I was doing my bit at this time. I was on the A.RP Report Centre Staff at Swindon, and I was also working for the War Department in the capacity of Surveyors Clerk. I’ll explain here that I was lodging home from home with my “good old” aunt and uncle in order to be nearer my work.
Time marched on again and in February 1941 I registered for Military Service with the 19’s and preferred the Royal Air Force. In March I was medically examined at Bath, and interviewed by an R.A.F Officer. I heard nothing until May when I was called for another medical examination for Air Crew at Oxford.
Here I had my first experience of waiting and queueing which seems to be so prevalent in the services. I was fairly “browned off” with it, but I am glad to say that now I take it as a matter of course. It took from 9 am until 4 pm to go through
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all the stages of the Medical Examination with a short General Knowledge test included. I was passed as Grade 1, placed on the Volunteer Reserve, and sent home to await that fateful letter which would make me an active member of H. M. Forces.
I waited quite a long time – from May until mid-August. On arriving home late one Monday evening a letter in a blue envelope awaited me marked O.H.M.S. Well, that was it – to report to Lords Cricket Ground on September 8th, 1941. I thought it quite unusual to be given 14 days notice, but I needed it.
Then came a hectic two weeks of flying around bidding farewell to all my acquaintances which had grown in numbers. The A.R.P Report Centre staff came first, because they didn’t really trouble whether I went to hell or not. It’s a pity that some of the Civic Office Staff didn’t have a chance of Military Service. Of course there were some exceptions. Anyway I was happy to show them that I intended to do my bit, and thus put
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a stop to their gentle hints.
Yes it was a grand opportunity. My glamorous Swindon cousin hinted that it would make a man of me, and this has been proved long since.
I had mixed feelings concerning my call-up. The office staff had been depleted for this reason, and consequently a large amount of responsibility fell on my shoulders – I was glad to know that I should leave this behind. Kate and Bobby were to carry on the good work and I didn’t envy them their job. I think they were sorry to see me go, as I was the only man in our office, and they liked someone to kick if they had the opportunity. Still they rallied round, and gave me an “Eversharp” pencil – the only present which I received from the Shrivenham Staff.
I bade farewell to the “Imps” at whose club over Rimes Garage I had spent many an enjoyable evening. Also to the Pagets (Hilda & Frank) who were my best friends in Swindon. Then my Aunt, Uncle and cousin. I had
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lived with them for almost four years, and I was treated as one of the family. I had everything I could wish for – in fact in some respects I was quite spoilt. I left Swindon behind on September 4th, and arrived home. Here there was much activity as my brother was to be married on Sept 6th, and naturally I had to fill the rôle [sic] of best man.
The wedding was a fine one, and I was glad to know that I could be my brother’s “prop”. So the week-end passed and on Monday morning at 7.am I prepared myself to fly from the nest, and see the world alone. I bade farewell to my parents and the Andrews, and set off fully armed with plenty of eats for the journey.
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[underlined] Chpt II [/underlined]
I arrived in Paddington at 11.am and moved across London to St Johns Wood. There I found many hundreds of fellows in the same plight as myself – feeling a little jittery and wondering how the day would end.
At Lords we went through the usual formalities that is name, number, religion etc entered on special forms. After this we were sorted into flights of 50, and marched off to quarters which took the form of flats in Prince Albert Rd facing Regents Park. We did very little that day, but managed to become acquainted with our room mates.
Three times daily we were marched to the Zoo Restaurant where the Air Ministry had provided the cookhouse. For the first time I realised how they feed thousands of men, and that Cookhouse Staff worked like hell to ensure that we had our food. There were some moans concerning the
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food, but I personally found no fault with it. It was pretty to watch these plates being slung down the counter, caught at the other end by the lads and carried away to the various tables. There we forgot we were human beings and reverted back to the primitive state by grabbing everything that was edible. Manners did not exist.
The second day we were issued with our glamorous blue clothes. Of course most of the lads were anxious to try it on, and show themselves to the various London girls. I was a “glamour” or “brylcreem” boy at last. Whey [sic] I was called this – I really don’t know. I have found very little glamour concerning the R.A.F as yet. Some people think that the R.A.F is just a holiday camp but seeing is believing – let them try it themselves. Its true that the discipline is not as strict, but I don’t think this an advantage at all.
This was my second visit to London, and
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consequently there were many sights which I had not seen. Fortunately I picked up with an [inserted] old [/inserted] school pal of mine – Bob Palmer – who knew his way around London very well. We visited Hyde Park, listened to the various soap-box orators spitting out Communism (which is still popular) and some venting their wrath at the Roman Catholics and the Pope. We walked through Hyde Park where in the growing darkness so many dark deeds are committed. From there to Trafalgar Square where Nelson’s monument stands upright still under the effect of the pigeons. From there we walked down Whitehall, saw the barricaded and famous Downing Street, and then to see the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. These were marvelous sights and even more so after the effects of those bloody German bombs and bombers. We often visited the Y.M.C.A. canteen in the Strand. Here we used to have supper and play table tennis before taking the tube back to Baker Street and
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to our quarters.
Here one word of praise to the Y.M.C.A canteens. They are fine organizations and so are the workers. We were always assured of a good feed at a cheap rate, and there were always free games to occupy our spare time. In fact, [deleted] how [/deleted] I wonder how the canteens managed to pay their way. Well, they still carry on. What a contrast to the N.A.A.F.I. canteens. Here it was definitely Capitalism – someone behind the scenes raking in the dough – and all at the expense of we service men. Some of the excess profits were supposed to be spent on things beneficial to our welfare, but were they? Let the N.AAFI’s take a pattern from the Y.M.C.A.
It was rather a pitaful [sic] sight to [deleted] still [/deleted] see the Londoners still sleeping in the tubes. Being from a more remote place in England, I didn’t really realise what bombing meant. Fortunately London had no air raids whilst I was there and I was thankful.
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The days rolled on. I was very much cross-examined by various officials of the RAF including officers and W.A.A.Fs. “What were my hobbies”, “Was I keen on Sport” etc. I was innoculated [sic] vaccinated, blood grouped, and had a night vision test. Of course I heard no results from these various examinations, but I assume they were entered in my records. Almost another week passed and then the “posting’s” rumours began to circulate. Should we be posted immediately? Would it be Newquay, Scarborough, Stratford or Cambridge. Some poor devils had been patiently awaiting their posting for many weeks – so we couldn’t complain if we did not move. On Friday morning the lists came out, but I had been put on Reserve Posting. Fortunately that evening the Reserves were called on and I found I had been posted to No 9. I T. W at Stratford. There was a hasty packing of kit, and of course (as my brother will understand) I had my webbing equipment in a hell
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of a mess.
Saturday Sept 22nd dawned fair. By noon we were on our way to Paddington in lorries, and from there by train to Stratford. I had a grand opportunity of seeing parts of England which I had never seen before. The journey took four hours, and at the end of it a few N.C.Os were waiting to kick us into shape and show us our quarters.
On Monday we were sorted out and I found myself at the Washington Irving Hotel. Then the work started – up at 6am breakfast at 7am parade and inspection at 7.40am and start lectures at 8am. These continued during the day until 6pm with a short break at 10.30am and the dinner break at 1pm. Well it was a pretty long day and it shook me for the first week. The P.T. and Drill made me as stiff as a poker, and I was just feeling the effects of the vaccination. I didn’t feel too happy, and was ready to tell the R.A.F. to go to hell. Anyway what w[missing letters]
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the use? I had to stick it – whilst at the same time appreciating a bit of home life. The corporal in charge of the flight was a perfect b, and was disliked by many of the lads. Anyway we settled down quite well, and the cheerful spirit among the lads helped us all.
The P.O (Kingdon) was in charge of the flight and he was a gentleman. He liked his discipline of course, but we always had a square deal from him. He always led the flight to various lecture rooms in the town, and he could maintain the good old 140 all the way making even us young ‘uns a bit tired.
Two weeks passed, and the rumours began to fly around concerning overseas posting. It is remarkable how these rumours circulate even if they are true or not. Anyway this one materialised, and we were informed by the C.O. that we were being sent overseas immediately. We stayed to take our maths examination (quite a simple one on
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fractions and proportion etc), we were medically examined, innoculated [sic] again and interviewed individually by the C.O. Then they sent us on five days leave. It took me four hours to reach home a distance of 40 miles which just shows how train services were fixed during the war. I had previously written home and told them the news, and naturally mother wasn’t too keen.
My leave passed quickly. I fled around bidding my various friends and relations a farewell. In the meantime, I became more intimately acquainted with a certain friend of mine which I very much regret led to quite a lot of complications on her part with another man. Anyway I enjoyed the leave, and after bidding them a sad farewell I returned to Stratford. At Cheltenham I had to wait for connections, and consequently Bobby & Kate came to keep me company. Anyway I arrived at the Washington about 10.30pm. I found that my room had been occupied by a new bunch and had to sleep where
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I could. This shows that the RAF hadn’t lost much time in replacing us at Stratford.
We hung on for two or three days, being issued with flying kit and other items to replace those which had been pinched or borrowed from us.
The day before the last one at Stratford we were inspected by the Station W.O and he picked fault with everyone’s webbing, and our dress in general. In fact we were fed up with this b- s-, and then started to wonder if we would ever fly at all. Still that passed away, and very nearly next day we were on our way up north. After a five hours journey we arrived at West Kirby, and were transported by lorry to the camp which was 2 miles away. This was the queerest camp I have ever seen. There didn’t seem to be any system at all; and they didn’t really know if we were there or not. We were put into huts in which was a mixture of single beds and wooden two-tier bunks. The blankets
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were very damp. However after swiping some coal, and taking strips of wood off the bunks we managed to light the two stoves (one at each end of the Hut). Unfortunately the stove pipe of one had been badly battered by our predecessors and consequently the hut was soon dense with smoke. Several remedies were tried such as blocking the hole with a flattened out tin, a piece of lino torn from the floor etc but they all failed.
Even the staff here were laxidacical [sic] Some corporals went around with blue shirts and white collars attached. They didn’t really bother about parades, and consequently we [inserted] too [/inserted] relaxed into a state of laziness. Reveille was any time after 7am breakfast at 7.30am, and a parade between 9 and 9.30am. Such was life – the remainder of the day we read, wrote letters or played cards. We were eventually issued with khaki tropical kit, which when new looks quite smart. However after a few turns by the laundry, and a few more by
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myself it looks like standing on its last legs. The M.O at West Kirby gave us a lecture on Hygiene in the tropics, and this was quite amusing. In fact he spun some quite vulgar limericks just as a way of illustration. All this happened within a week. Then the unexpected happened – we went on leave for another five days. There was great jubilation the night before we went home. Some of the lads went to West Kirby and after visiting many pubs, and scrounging what drink they could they came home fairly tight or a pretence of being tight. Yes, there are quite a few lads in our mob who like to act the drunk. I don’t know why, there is no hero stuff about that.
Anyway we didn’t get much sleep that night. We had some Scotch lads with us complete with bagpipes, and as I am not partual [sic] to these instruments it was a hell of a row.
By 3pm the next day we were on our way
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to our respective homes. I had 150 miles to travel and more. Consequently it was 10pm before I reached Gloucester after changing at Crewe and Birmingham. I found to my dismay that the last train for Cirencester had gone, and that the only available would be the “1 am” to Kemble only. Well I didn't relish the idea of walking from Kemble, and consequently I pushed off to the Simmon’s home. They were surprised to see me, but after a good supper I went to bed. The next morning my sister in law drove me to Lyppiat [sic] Park where my mother was supposed to be staying. Anyway she had gone the day before. My uncle and Aunt were however pleased to see me. [deleted] and [/deleted] The former knew something of the last war, so that he was able to give me a few hints. On Sunday afternoon I arrived home much to the surprise of all the folks. It was rather a fools game for me after saying goodbye before, and now coming
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home again. Still, I made good use of the leave and it went much quicker than the first one. I was able to say cheerio to the folks whom I had not seen on my last leave. The days absolutely flew away and it wasn’t long before I was saying cheerio to father on Watermoor Station. I should imagine this place has a reputation by now as this is where all the tender goodbyes have taken place both for this war and the last one.
During my leave I had spent good times with my female friend, taken her home: in fact it developed into [deleted] U [/deleted] little more than a friendship. It was just the case of the other man which held up things. Anyway this problem (we hoped) would be solved during my absence, and I don’t think the day is far off when we shall develop [deleted] things furth [/deleted] this friendship still further. My mother and father were quite pleased about it, and I’m really glad – as it was my own choosing & perseverance. I had
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known her since those far off school days, when contact of any kind was forbidden between the boys and the girls – due to the pig-heading of a bachelor headmaster.
I have gone off the trail a bit. This is an account of my service life not school life although they have some principles in common. I arrived back at West Kirby, and was almost enveloped in mud caused by the heavy rain. Another day passed, and on the following morning we were up and away by 4am. “Well”, we thought “this is it” meaning the sea voyage. However after travelling around Lancashire we finally arrived at Heaton Park near Manchester. Here a new station had just opened for the benefit of the W/T Air Crew who were being sent overseas. The Living Huts were not ready, and hence we were lucky to be billeted out with civilians at Prestwick.
Berty Farrant and myself were billeted with Mrs Garlick. She was a good sort one of those rare good ones which you meet t[missing letters]
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days. In fact the majority of the lads had good billets. Of course they only had to provide an empty room. The R.A.F. provided the bed and blankets etc. Of course if anything more was required – well – It depended on the land-lady or her family. Mrs Garlick had one daughter of 15, the pride of her eye, and an expert pianist for her age. I know on Sunday afternoon they invited me to their drawing room to help sing a few songs etc.
Yes this was grand – we had baths and could actually shave in hot water. Our duties however were very boring, and the “browned off” state developed further We arose at 6am away to the mess hall (2 miles away) by 7.15am, breakfast, and a parade at 8.45am. After this we did hardly nothing, but just sit, stand and wait in that park for hours on end. The weather was becoming cold too, and it didn’t help matters. Being a new camp the food was very good – in fact the best I have
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had in the R.A.F. This waiting continued a fortnight, and the lads were becoming very fed up. Berty Farrant (my room mate) told me that as he was able to go back to his civilian job as a “copper” he wouldn’t mind chucking the whole idea altogether. Well, I didn’t blame him. All the lads including myself were volunteers and keen to go through the course and on with the job. We didn’t wish to be hung about. It would have been far better to let us remain in our “civy” [sic] jobs until they could actually cope with us. But no – this couldn’t be, and I expect the Ministry of [missing word] had a few headaches
I did manage to go to Manchester on a [missing word] a few occasions. There I saw some real bomb damage, which the people at home had fortunately never experienced up to date. One day we spent quite a busy [deleted] stay [/deleted] [inserted] time [/inserted] at cookhouse. The staff was too small to cope with all the personnel on the station, and so we volunteered to give them a hand.
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We had some food that day, but did our share of the work – washing dishes and pans, and peeling potatoes.
2 weeks after arriving at Heaton Park we left again. After saying cheerio to my landlady and thanking her for her kindness I boarded the train again and this time [deleted] time [/deleted] bound straight for Liverpool. The train, after winding through a long dark tunnel, brought us almost to the quayside. Strangely enough this very day was the anniversary of the end of the last war. The war to end wars, but here we were in the midst of another due to the lack of men suitable to deal with the situation which have arisen since 1918. I entirely agree with Vera Brittain in her book “England’s Hour” that if we put the energy into keeping the peace after this war as we have put into the war itself then a better future will be ensured for our children.
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CHPT III
After being issued with our shipping index cards we duly boarded the S.S now T S. Mataroa. I had never heard of her before (and do not wish to again) but she was originally a cargo ship converted into a troopship. We thought we should have some sort of cabins to share, but we were rather taken aback when we were crowded into the various sections below deck.
I was in Section 6 at the end of boat along with 300 others. An idea of the size can be given when I say that it was the same size approximately as the Village Hall. In this space we had to sleep, eat and keep our kit. We were sub divided into various messes according to the size of the mess table. I was in Mess 74 with thirteen others. How we were going to stick this – we didn’t really know, but we hoped for only a week if we were bound for America this was the main [indecipherable word] and despite our tropical kit we didn’t really know if we were
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bound for Rhodesia or America. A rather remarkable but sound fact as the civilians usually know more about our business than we ourselves.
In the afternoon of Nov 11th we moved into the Mersey, and there waited for a day In the meantime we were trying to become accustomed to the boat, and also the ground staff draft who accompanied us. There were also army drafts on the boat. There I will opportune to state that the relations existing between the R.A.F and the Army are not very good. Those people who have been convinced by various reports in the Press that the R.A F and the Army are complete brothers in arms, then they [inserted] are [/inserted] under a false impression. Bad relations should not exist between us, and it is the duty of the authorities to see that they do not exist. My own personal opinion is that the Army is at fault. They are rather jealous of the fine show the R.A F put up in the Battle of
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Britain whilst they had to be evacuated from Dunkirk. They even blame the R.A.F for that, but why was it that the evacuation was so successful. However I think that the Army will have its opportunities and I don’t think they will be found lacking. It was now a typical November day on the 12th. There was plenty of fog – in fact typically English. In the afternoon we slowly moved down the Mersey and into the sea. In fact we had started our voyage adequately protected by the navy. On the following morning we could just see the West Coast of Scotland which gradually went out of view. So we had left England not knowing where we were going or when we should return.
During the first few days complaints were made concerning the quarters. Of course nothing could be done now. The only answer the officer could give “We had to rough it in 1914 so you’ll have to do likewise.” I thought this quite irrelevant as we now live
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in 1941 not 1914. Conditions have changed; Science plays a greater part both in war and in living generally and is not to be compared with a period 27 years ago.
The weather was fairly cold, and the wind had a nasty habit of blowing down the gangway which made the quarters very cold at night.
After a few days the convoy increased. The seasickness began to be fairly obvious as well. There were many hanging their heads over the side (myself included). As I have been told – it is not pleasant at all – and I can now heartily confirm that statement.
Inspections were carried out by the Captain daily at 10am. The tables, forms, untensils [sic] etc had to be cleaned, and 2 mess orderlies were appointed from each table daily to carry it out. Otherwise discipline was almost nil for the first 10 days. However after the seasickness had been overcome, parades were held on the upper deck
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each morning. It just meant standing up on one’s feet for a solid hour, which did not tend to higher the morale any more. The only bright spot on the boat was the canteen. There biscuits, chocolate, cigarettes, tinned fruit and fish, sardines, pickles were easily obtainable. Of course there was always the usual queue but it was worth the wait. Cards were very much in evidence, and strangely enough a library was started with a limited number of books. Penguins were obtainable from the Barbers Shop but were soon reduced to such subjects as “Russia” “Science and the War” etc which of course were not so popular as the thrillers. As far as washing facilities were concerned the water was only turned on at certain times during the day. Showers were always available but with salt water, and a special soap had to be used. Ordinary soap just stayed as a white mass on the skin and was a hell of a mess. The weather improved, and the temperature
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began to rise. Lectures were started for the u/t Air Crew, which were quite interesting. Khaki dress was introduced instead of the blue which was quite a relief. The heat became almost unbearable below deck, and at night the close packing of human beings made it almost impossible to sleep. In fact the ship soon earned the nickname “Altmark.” The officers found it hot too below deck and consequently they soon abandoned the idea of taking lectures. They, of course had their own respective cabins on deck, and I can honestly say that it started to breed a certain amount of Communism amongst the lads.
Then sleeping on deck was allowed. Of course this was a relief to be able to sleep in the open air, although the deck was very hard. It was quite a sight to see the hammocks being slung up. They were slung from the ships rail, from the cranes and every conceivable hook and nail. The remainder of the lads slept on the [deleted] floor [/deleted] deck.
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After 8 or 9 days out, land was sighted, and there was much speculation as to where it was. However it was afterwards stated that it was the Azores. Now we were convinced that we were bound for South Africa and that America was out of the question. Otherwise no land was sighted at all – just water and more water. I don’t think any of the lads will wish to go to the seaside for a holiday after that trip. There was still plenty of moaning, and the army did their share as well.
The food was not of the best. The potatoes were always served up in their skins, and the cabbage was fairly yellow. There was very little variety, and the liver and porridge for breakfast was nearly always uneatable. The bread was good, and this provided the main food. A daily ration of jam and butter was issued to each mess table, and sometimes a few pickles. Quite a few of the lads lived entirely on their own food bought from the canteen. Condensed
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milk was much in evidence, and also the tinned fruit before the supply ran short. Two weeks passed, and then land was sighted again. It was a bright sunny morning when we had our first glimpse of Africa at Freetown in Sierra Leone. The green mountain slopes looked marvelous, and the houses on the slopes and around the coast reminded one of a small English seaside resort.
The natives, always eager for business, came out in their small home-made canoes to meet us. We could tell that troopships had been here before us, because the natives had picked up the service “swear words” quite well, and they could use them on us. Much amusement was provided by these natives when they dived into the water for “tickies” and sixpences. The way in which they got back into their boats was a skilful [sic] operation. Of course they brought out fruit to sell, which however was “forbidden fruit” to us because
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of the danger of infection.
We stayed in Freetown for three days, but were not allowed on shore. During this time the ship was refuelled [sic] with oil, and her water tanks refilled. I may say here that I hadn’t appreciated English water until I tasted the water on board ship. It was always tepid, and had a bitter taste, and was consequently not very pleasant. We actually arrived in [deleted] Durban [/deleted] [inserted] Freetown [/inserted] on 25th [deleted] December [/deleted] [inserted] November [/inserted].
I think Haw haw was correct for once, when he stated from Hamburg that a large British convoy had put into Freetown on this date. However the Germans did not think it fit to attack it, as they are scared stiff of the Navy, I suppose. Well, it’s a good job we have the navy to depend on. Without them, I think that Britain and her Empire would be fairly sick
We left Freetown behind, and proceeded on our voyage. There was much speculation and rumour concerning how long we should be on the water. Some estimated a 10 day
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trip to South Africa, others 14 days, others 16 days. Other lads were trying to work out our course. After 2 days one bright lad estimated that we were nearing the Tropic of Capricorn, but actually we hadn’t crossed the Equator. Anyway the heat was becoming terrific, and most of the time was spent on deck. The blackout had to be strictly observed during the hours of darkness, but we did have a break from this at Freetown.
The R.A.F were beginning to become organised. Various jobs were allotted. There were guards (for night duty), and porthole guards during the day. There were [inserted] also [/inserted] “sweepers up,” [inserted] and [/inserted] cookhouse duties. I was caught for the latter and it turned out to be a permanent job for the remainder of the voyage.
There were six of us detailed for this job, which consisted of scrubbing potatoes, peeling and slicing pumpkins, peeling potatoes, and cutting cabbage. We did not raise any objections to the job at all, because it occupied a part of our
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time. Furthermore we were excused guard and porthole duties and even the duties of mess orderlies. We managed to meet the ships’ butcher who was one of our best friends. This gentleman was in charge of the refrigerators where both the meat and fruit were stored. Hence, at dusk each evening he gave us the job of depositing empty crates and boxes over the side Of course these were not always empty, and after filling our topee covers with oranges or apples we smuggled them down to the quarters to distribute among our various pals. On several occasions we were given large lumps of cheese, which made a very good breakfast in lieu of the liver or porridge. The last night we were on board ship the butcher gave two of us half a shoulder of freshly cooked lamb. This was soon torn apart in the quarters and enjoyed by the lads especially after the food we had been experiencing.
The chief cook wasn’t a bad fellow, but we couldn’t get much from him except a
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daily can of tea. His job was not one of the best – as the cookhouse was like hell itself with the heat of the ovens and also the tropical heat as well. He had some army cooks to assist him, but these dodged the work when we were around
For almost three weeks of the voyage there was a daily issue of 2 bottles of minerals to each man. These consisted of ginger ale, lemonade or quinine tonic. The latter was bitter and consequently if you didn’t grab your ration at first then “you’d had it” and were left with these.
After 3 weeks of voyage the entertainments officer suddenly woke up. He picked out some of the talent chiefly from the army, and put on a grand concert. In fact it was very popular among the lads, and gave us food for thought.
A Church service was held on each Sunday morning, and I attended, not only from the religious point of view but to relieve the monotony quite a bit. The days slowly passed, and
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the weather began to become cooler and the sea much rougher. It was rumoured that we were now passing through the “Roaring Forties” which I think most Geography Books elucidate quite fully.
In the meantime a Sports Meeting was held between the R.A.F and the Army. The former being rather lazy and lacking in discipline were easily beaten by the army. In fact it was a poor show put up by the R.A.F, and the Army had scored quite a big point. The voyage was nearing it’s end, and spirits began to rise at the possibility of setting foot on land again. The officer came to lecture us on the usual subject, and the usual precautions. The native type was also discussed as an addition. After that, we knew that land was not far away and the next morning we awakened to see Durban in front of us and there were loud cheers from everyone. We collected all our kit together, and by 3pm we were all safe on land giving the S.S. Mataroa a soldiers farewell.
I hope to give a true account of my activities in the Royal Air Force. I will try not to exagerate, [sic] but just give a true account as I see it. It is not intended to run down service life, but from time to time I hope to give my personal opinion of various incidents, and make a few critiscisms [sic].
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Chapter I
My first inclination to join the Royal Air Force was long before war broke out in 1939. It did not materialise however, largely due to the influence of my father who disliked military service. Strangely enough my mother was quite neutral – she did not wish me to go but on the other hand she did not wish to stand in my light. September 1939 arrived, and poor old Neville (a gentleman to the last and a pacifist) informed us on that fateful Sunday morning that we were at war with Germany. Like other people I was rather bewildered, not knowing what to do. I was feeling quite patriotic and willing to do my bit. However as I was only 18, I was advised by quite a few of the “old sweats” to hang on as long as possible.
Time marched on – my brother was called up into the army in May 1940, and naturally after this (being the only other left at home) my parents persuaded me to stay
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home as long as possible.
I’ll admit I was doing my bit at this time. I was on the A.RP Report Centre Staff at Swindon, and I was also working for the War Department in the capacity of Surveyors Clerk. I’ll explain here that I was lodging home from home with my “good old” aunt and uncle in order to be nearer my work.
Time marched on again and in February 1941 I registered for Military Service with the 19’s and preferred the Royal Air Force. In March I was medically examined at Bath, and interviewed by an R.A.F Officer. I heard nothing until May when I was called for another medical examination for Air Crew at Oxford.
Here I had my first experience of waiting and queueing which seems to be so prevalent in the services. I was fairly “browned off” with it, but I am glad to say that now I take it as a matter of course. It took from 9 am until 4 pm to go through
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all the stages of the Medical Examination with a short General Knowledge test included. I was passed as Grade 1, placed on the Volunteer Reserve, and sent home to await that fateful letter which would make me an active member of H. M. Forces.
I waited quite a long time – from May until mid-August. On arriving home late one Monday evening a letter in a blue envelope awaited me marked O.H.M.S. Well, that was it – to report to Lords Cricket Ground on September 8th, 1941. I thought it quite unusual to be given 14 days notice, but I needed it.
Then came a hectic two weeks of flying around bidding farewell to all my acquaintances which had grown in numbers. The A.R.P Report Centre staff came first, because they didn’t really trouble whether I went to hell or not. It’s a pity that some of the Civic Office Staff didn’t have a chance of Military Service. Of course there were some exceptions. Anyway I was happy to show them that I intended to do my bit, and thus put
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a stop to their gentle hints.
Yes it was a grand opportunity. My glamorous Swindon cousin hinted that it would make a man of me, and this has been proved long since.
I had mixed feelings concerning my call-up. The office staff had been depleted for this reason, and consequently a large amount of responsibility fell on my shoulders – I was glad to know that I should leave this behind. Kate and Bobby were to carry on the good work and I didn’t envy them their job. I think they were sorry to see me go, as I was the only man in our office, and they liked someone to kick if they had the opportunity. Still they rallied round, and gave me an “Eversharp” pencil – the only present which I received from the Shrivenham Staff.
I bade farewell to the “Imps” at whose club over Rimes Garage I had spent many an enjoyable evening. Also to the Pagets (Hilda & Frank) who were my best friends in Swindon. Then my Aunt, Uncle and cousin. I had
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lived with them for almost four years, and I was treated as one of the family. I had everything I could wish for – in fact in some respects I was quite spoilt. I left Swindon behind on September 4th, and arrived home. Here there was much activity as my brother was to be married on Sept 6th, and naturally I had to fill the rôle [sic] of best man.
The wedding was a fine one, and I was glad to know that I could be my brother’s “prop”. So the week-end passed and on Monday morning at 7.am I prepared myself to fly from the nest, and see the world alone. I bade farewell to my parents and the Andrews, and set off fully armed with plenty of eats for the journey.
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[underlined] Chpt II [/underlined]
I arrived in Paddington at 11.am and moved across London to St Johns Wood. There I found many hundreds of fellows in the same plight as myself – feeling a little jittery and wondering how the day would end.
At Lords we went through the usual formalities that is name, number, religion etc entered on special forms. After this we were sorted into flights of 50, and marched off to quarters which took the form of flats in Prince Albert Rd facing Regents Park. We did very little that day, but managed to become acquainted with our room mates.
Three times daily we were marched to the Zoo Restaurant where the Air Ministry had provided the cookhouse. For the first time I realised how they feed thousands of men, and that Cookhouse Staff worked like hell to ensure that we had our food. There were some moans concerning the
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food, but I personally found no fault with it. It was pretty to watch these plates being slung down the counter, caught at the other end by the lads and carried away to the various tables. There we forgot we were human beings and reverted back to the primitive state by grabbing everything that was edible. Manners did not exist.
The second day we were issued with our glamorous blue clothes. Of course most of the lads were anxious to try it on, and show themselves to the various London girls. I was a “glamour” or “brylcreem” boy at last. Whey [sic] I was called this – I really don’t know. I have found very little glamour concerning the R.A.F as yet. Some people think that the R.A.F is just a holiday camp but seeing is believing – let them try it themselves. Its true that the discipline is not as strict, but I don’t think this an advantage at all.
This was my second visit to London, and
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consequently there were many sights which I had not seen. Fortunately I picked up with an [inserted] old [/inserted] school pal of mine – Bob Palmer – who knew his way around London very well. We visited Hyde Park, listened to the various soap-box orators spitting out Communism (which is still popular) and some venting their wrath at the Roman Catholics and the Pope. We walked through Hyde Park where in the growing darkness so many dark deeds are committed. From there to Trafalgar Square where Nelson’s monument stands upright still under the effect of the pigeons. From there we walked down Whitehall, saw the barricaded and famous Downing Street, and then to see the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey. These were marvelous sights and even more so after the effects of those bloody German bombs and bombers. We often visited the Y.M.C.A. canteen in the Strand. Here we used to have supper and play table tennis before taking the tube back to Baker Street and
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to our quarters.
Here one word of praise to the Y.M.C.A canteens. They are fine organizations and so are the workers. We were always assured of a good feed at a cheap rate, and there were always free games to occupy our spare time. In fact, [deleted] how [/deleted] I wonder how the canteens managed to pay their way. Well, they still carry on. What a contrast to the N.A.A.F.I. canteens. Here it was definitely Capitalism – someone behind the scenes raking in the dough – and all at the expense of we service men. Some of the excess profits were supposed to be spent on things beneficial to our welfare, but were they? Let the N.AAFI’s take a pattern from the Y.M.C.A.
It was rather a pitaful [sic] sight to [deleted] still [/deleted] see the Londoners still sleeping in the tubes. Being from a more remote place in England, I didn’t really realise what bombing meant. Fortunately London had no air raids whilst I was there and I was thankful.
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The days rolled on. I was very much cross-examined by various officials of the RAF including officers and W.A.A.Fs. “What were my hobbies”, “Was I keen on Sport” etc. I was innoculated [sic] vaccinated, blood grouped, and had a night vision test. Of course I heard no results from these various examinations, but I assume they were entered in my records. Almost another week passed and then the “posting’s” rumours began to circulate. Should we be posted immediately? Would it be Newquay, Scarborough, Stratford or Cambridge. Some poor devils had been patiently awaiting their posting for many weeks – so we couldn’t complain if we did not move. On Friday morning the lists came out, but I had been put on Reserve Posting. Fortunately that evening the Reserves were called on and I found I had been posted to No 9. I T. W at Stratford. There was a hasty packing of kit, and of course (as my brother will understand) I had my webbing equipment in a hell
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of a mess.
Saturday Sept 22nd dawned fair. By noon we were on our way to Paddington in lorries, and from there by train to Stratford. I had a grand opportunity of seeing parts of England which I had never seen before. The journey took four hours, and at the end of it a few N.C.Os were waiting to kick us into shape and show us our quarters.
On Monday we were sorted out and I found myself at the Washington Irving Hotel. Then the work started – up at 6am breakfast at 7am parade and inspection at 7.40am and start lectures at 8am. These continued during the day until 6pm with a short break at 10.30am and the dinner break at 1pm. Well it was a pretty long day and it shook me for the first week. The P.T. and Drill made me as stiff as a poker, and I was just feeling the effects of the vaccination. I didn’t feel too happy, and was ready to tell the R.A.F. to go to hell. Anyway what w[missing letters]
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the use? I had to stick it – whilst at the same time appreciating a bit of home life. The corporal in charge of the flight was a perfect b, and was disliked by many of the lads. Anyway we settled down quite well, and the cheerful spirit among the lads helped us all.
The P.O (Kingdon) was in charge of the flight and he was a gentleman. He liked his discipline of course, but we always had a square deal from him. He always led the flight to various lecture rooms in the town, and he could maintain the good old 140 all the way making even us young ‘uns a bit tired.
Two weeks passed, and the rumours began to fly around concerning overseas posting. It is remarkable how these rumours circulate even if they are true or not. Anyway this one materialised, and we were informed by the C.O. that we were being sent overseas immediately. We stayed to take our maths examination (quite a simple one on
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fractions and proportion etc), we were medically examined, innoculated [sic] again and interviewed individually by the C.O. Then they sent us on five days leave. It took me four hours to reach home a distance of 40 miles which just shows how train services were fixed during the war. I had previously written home and told them the news, and naturally mother wasn’t too keen.
My leave passed quickly. I fled around bidding my various friends and relations a farewell. In the meantime, I became more intimately acquainted with a certain friend of mine which I very much regret led to quite a lot of complications on her part with another man. Anyway I enjoyed the leave, and after bidding them a sad farewell I returned to Stratford. At Cheltenham I had to wait for connections, and consequently Bobby & Kate came to keep me company. Anyway I arrived at the Washington about 10.30pm. I found that my room had been occupied by a new bunch and had to sleep where
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I could. This shows that the RAF hadn’t lost much time in replacing us at Stratford.
We hung on for two or three days, being issued with flying kit and other items to replace those which had been pinched or borrowed from us.
The day before the last one at Stratford we were inspected by the Station W.O and he picked fault with everyone’s webbing, and our dress in general. In fact we were fed up with this b- s-, and then started to wonder if we would ever fly at all. Still that passed away, and very nearly next day we were on our way up north. After a five hours journey we arrived at West Kirby, and were transported by lorry to the camp which was 2 miles away. This was the queerest camp I have ever seen. There didn’t seem to be any system at all; and they didn’t really know if we were there or not. We were put into huts in which was a mixture of single beds and wooden two-tier bunks. The blankets
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were very damp. However after swiping some coal, and taking strips of wood off the bunks we managed to light the two stoves (one at each end of the Hut). Unfortunately the stove pipe of one had been badly battered by our predecessors and consequently the hut was soon dense with smoke. Several remedies were tried such as blocking the hole with a flattened out tin, a piece of lino torn from the floor etc but they all failed.
Even the staff here were laxidacical [sic] Some corporals went around with blue shirts and white collars attached. They didn’t really bother about parades, and consequently we [inserted] too [/inserted] relaxed into a state of laziness. Reveille was any time after 7am breakfast at 7.30am, and a parade between 9 and 9.30am. Such was life – the remainder of the day we read, wrote letters or played cards. We were eventually issued with khaki tropical kit, which when new looks quite smart. However after a few turns by the laundry, and a few more by
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myself it looks like standing on its last legs. The M.O at West Kirby gave us a lecture on Hygiene in the tropics, and this was quite amusing. In fact he spun some quite vulgar limericks just as a way of illustration. All this happened within a week. Then the unexpected happened – we went on leave for another five days. There was great jubilation the night before we went home. Some of the lads went to West Kirby and after visiting many pubs, and scrounging what drink they could they came home fairly tight or a pretence of being tight. Yes, there are quite a few lads in our mob who like to act the drunk. I don’t know why, there is no hero stuff about that.
Anyway we didn’t get much sleep that night. We had some Scotch lads with us complete with bagpipes, and as I am not partual [sic] to these instruments it was a hell of a row.
By 3pm the next day we were on our way
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to our respective homes. I had 150 miles to travel and more. Consequently it was 10pm before I reached Gloucester after changing at Crewe and Birmingham. I found to my dismay that the last train for Cirencester had gone, and that the only available would be the “1 am” to Kemble only. Well I didn't relish the idea of walking from Kemble, and consequently I pushed off to the Simmon’s home. They were surprised to see me, but after a good supper I went to bed. The next morning my sister in law drove me to Lyppiat [sic] Park where my mother was supposed to be staying. Anyway she had gone the day before. My uncle and Aunt were however pleased to see me. [deleted] and [/deleted] The former knew something of the last war, so that he was able to give me a few hints. On Sunday afternoon I arrived home much to the surprise of all the folks. It was rather a fools game for me after saying goodbye before, and now coming
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home again. Still, I made good use of the leave and it went much quicker than the first one. I was able to say cheerio to the folks whom I had not seen on my last leave. The days absolutely flew away and it wasn’t long before I was saying cheerio to father on Watermoor Station. I should imagine this place has a reputation by now as this is where all the tender goodbyes have taken place both for this war and the last one.
During my leave I had spent good times with my female friend, taken her home: in fact it developed into [deleted] U [/deleted] little more than a friendship. It was just the case of the other man which held up things. Anyway this problem (we hoped) would be solved during my absence, and I don’t think the day is far off when we shall develop [deleted] things furth [/deleted] this friendship still further. My mother and father were quite pleased about it, and I’m really glad – as it was my own choosing & perseverance. I had
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known her since those far off school days, when contact of any kind was forbidden between the boys and the girls – due to the pig-heading of a bachelor headmaster.
I have gone off the trail a bit. This is an account of my service life not school life although they have some principles in common. I arrived back at West Kirby, and was almost enveloped in mud caused by the heavy rain. Another day passed, and on the following morning we were up and away by 4am. “Well”, we thought “this is it” meaning the sea voyage. However after travelling around Lancashire we finally arrived at Heaton Park near Manchester. Here a new station had just opened for the benefit of the W/T Air Crew who were being sent overseas. The Living Huts were not ready, and hence we were lucky to be billeted out with civilians at Prestwick.
Berty Farrant and myself were billeted with Mrs Garlick. She was a good sort one of those rare good ones which you meet t[missing letters]
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days. In fact the majority of the lads had good billets. Of course they only had to provide an empty room. The R.A.F. provided the bed and blankets etc. Of course if anything more was required – well – It depended on the land-lady or her family. Mrs Garlick had one daughter of 15, the pride of her eye, and an expert pianist for her age. I know on Sunday afternoon they invited me to their drawing room to help sing a few songs etc.
Yes this was grand – we had baths and could actually shave in hot water. Our duties however were very boring, and the “browned off” state developed further We arose at 6am away to the mess hall (2 miles away) by 7.15am, breakfast, and a parade at 8.45am. After this we did hardly nothing, but just sit, stand and wait in that park for hours on end. The weather was becoming cold too, and it didn’t help matters. Being a new camp the food was very good – in fact the best I have
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had in the R.A.F. This waiting continued a fortnight, and the lads were becoming very fed up. Berty Farrant (my room mate) told me that as he was able to go back to his civilian job as a “copper” he wouldn’t mind chucking the whole idea altogether. Well, I didn’t blame him. All the lads including myself were volunteers and keen to go through the course and on with the job. We didn’t wish to be hung about. It would have been far better to let us remain in our “civy” [sic] jobs until they could actually cope with us. But no – this couldn’t be, and I expect the Ministry of [missing word] had a few headaches
I did manage to go to Manchester on a [missing word] a few occasions. There I saw some real bomb damage, which the people at home had fortunately never experienced up to date. One day we spent quite a busy [deleted] stay [/deleted] [inserted] time [/inserted] at cookhouse. The staff was too small to cope with all the personnel on the station, and so we volunteered to give them a hand.
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We had some food that day, but did our share of the work – washing dishes and pans, and peeling potatoes.
2 weeks after arriving at Heaton Park we left again. After saying cheerio to my landlady and thanking her for her kindness I boarded the train again and this time [deleted] time [/deleted] bound straight for Liverpool. The train, after winding through a long dark tunnel, brought us almost to the quayside. Strangely enough this very day was the anniversary of the end of the last war. The war to end wars, but here we were in the midst of another due to the lack of men suitable to deal with the situation which have arisen since 1918. I entirely agree with Vera Brittain in her book “England’s Hour” that if we put the energy into keeping the peace after this war as we have put into the war itself then a better future will be ensured for our children.
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CHPT III
After being issued with our shipping index cards we duly boarded the S.S now T S. Mataroa. I had never heard of her before (and do not wish to again) but she was originally a cargo ship converted into a troopship. We thought we should have some sort of cabins to share, but we were rather taken aback when we were crowded into the various sections below deck.
I was in Section 6 at the end of boat along with 300 others. An idea of the size can be given when I say that it was the same size approximately as the Village Hall. In this space we had to sleep, eat and keep our kit. We were sub divided into various messes according to the size of the mess table. I was in Mess 74 with thirteen others. How we were going to stick this – we didn’t really know, but we hoped for only a week if we were bound for America this was the main [indecipherable word] and despite our tropical kit we didn’t really know if we were
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bound for Rhodesia or America. A rather remarkable but sound fact as the civilians usually know more about our business than we ourselves.
In the afternoon of Nov 11th we moved into the Mersey, and there waited for a day In the meantime we were trying to become accustomed to the boat, and also the ground staff draft who accompanied us. There were also army drafts on the boat. There I will opportune to state that the relations existing between the R.A.F and the Army are not very good. Those people who have been convinced by various reports in the Press that the R.A F and the Army are complete brothers in arms, then they [inserted] are [/inserted] under a false impression. Bad relations should not exist between us, and it is the duty of the authorities to see that they do not exist. My own personal opinion is that the Army is at fault. They are rather jealous of the fine show the R.A F put up in the Battle of
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Britain whilst they had to be evacuated from Dunkirk. They even blame the R.A.F for that, but why was it that the evacuation was so successful. However I think that the Army will have its opportunities and I don’t think they will be found lacking. It was now a typical November day on the 12th. There was plenty of fog – in fact typically English. In the afternoon we slowly moved down the Mersey and into the sea. In fact we had started our voyage adequately protected by the navy. On the following morning we could just see the West Coast of Scotland which gradually went out of view. So we had left England not knowing where we were going or when we should return.
During the first few days complaints were made concerning the quarters. Of course nothing could be done now. The only answer the officer could give “We had to rough it in 1914 so you’ll have to do likewise.” I thought this quite irrelevant as we now live
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in 1941 not 1914. Conditions have changed; Science plays a greater part both in war and in living generally and is not to be compared with a period 27 years ago.
The weather was fairly cold, and the wind had a nasty habit of blowing down the gangway which made the quarters very cold at night.
After a few days the convoy increased. The seasickness began to be fairly obvious as well. There were many hanging their heads over the side (myself included). As I have been told – it is not pleasant at all – and I can now heartily confirm that statement.
Inspections were carried out by the Captain daily at 10am. The tables, forms, untensils [sic] etc had to be cleaned, and 2 mess orderlies were appointed from each table daily to carry it out. Otherwise discipline was almost nil for the first 10 days. However after the seasickness had been overcome, parades were held on the upper deck
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each morning. It just meant standing up on one’s feet for a solid hour, which did not tend to higher the morale any more. The only bright spot on the boat was the canteen. There biscuits, chocolate, cigarettes, tinned fruit and fish, sardines, pickles were easily obtainable. Of course there was always the usual queue but it was worth the wait. Cards were very much in evidence, and strangely enough a library was started with a limited number of books. Penguins were obtainable from the Barbers Shop but were soon reduced to such subjects as “Russia” “Science and the War” etc which of course were not so popular as the thrillers. As far as washing facilities were concerned the water was only turned on at certain times during the day. Showers were always available but with salt water, and a special soap had to be used. Ordinary soap just stayed as a white mass on the skin and was a hell of a mess. The weather improved, and the temperature
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began to rise. Lectures were started for the u/t Air Crew, which were quite interesting. Khaki dress was introduced instead of the blue which was quite a relief. The heat became almost unbearable below deck, and at night the close packing of human beings made it almost impossible to sleep. In fact the ship soon earned the nickname “Altmark.” The officers found it hot too below deck and consequently they soon abandoned the idea of taking lectures. They, of course had their own respective cabins on deck, and I can honestly say that it started to breed a certain amount of Communism amongst the lads.
Then sleeping on deck was allowed. Of course this was a relief to be able to sleep in the open air, although the deck was very hard. It was quite a sight to see the hammocks being slung up. They were slung from the ships rail, from the cranes and every conceivable hook and nail. The remainder of the lads slept on the [deleted] floor [/deleted] deck.
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After 8 or 9 days out, land was sighted, and there was much speculation as to where it was. However it was afterwards stated that it was the Azores. Now we were convinced that we were bound for South Africa and that America was out of the question. Otherwise no land was sighted at all – just water and more water. I don’t think any of the lads will wish to go to the seaside for a holiday after that trip. There was still plenty of moaning, and the army did their share as well.
The food was not of the best. The potatoes were always served up in their skins, and the cabbage was fairly yellow. There was very little variety, and the liver and porridge for breakfast was nearly always uneatable. The bread was good, and this provided the main food. A daily ration of jam and butter was issued to each mess table, and sometimes a few pickles. Quite a few of the lads lived entirely on their own food bought from the canteen. Condensed
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milk was much in evidence, and also the tinned fruit before the supply ran short. Two weeks passed, and then land was sighted again. It was a bright sunny morning when we had our first glimpse of Africa at Freetown in Sierra Leone. The green mountain slopes looked marvelous, and the houses on the slopes and around the coast reminded one of a small English seaside resort.
The natives, always eager for business, came out in their small home-made canoes to meet us. We could tell that troopships had been here before us, because the natives had picked up the service “swear words” quite well, and they could use them on us. Much amusement was provided by these natives when they dived into the water for “tickies” and sixpences. The way in which they got back into their boats was a skilful [sic] operation. Of course they brought out fruit to sell, which however was “forbidden fruit” to us because
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of the danger of infection.
We stayed in Freetown for three days, but were not allowed on shore. During this time the ship was refuelled [sic] with oil, and her water tanks refilled. I may say here that I hadn’t appreciated English water until I tasted the water on board ship. It was always tepid, and had a bitter taste, and was consequently not very pleasant. We actually arrived in [deleted] Durban [/deleted] [inserted] Freetown [/inserted] on 25th [deleted] December [/deleted] [inserted] November [/inserted].
I think Haw haw was correct for once, when he stated from Hamburg that a large British convoy had put into Freetown on this date. However the Germans did not think it fit to attack it, as they are scared stiff of the Navy, I suppose. Well, it’s a good job we have the navy to depend on. Without them, I think that Britain and her Empire would be fairly sick
We left Freetown behind, and proceeded on our voyage. There was much speculation and rumour concerning how long we should be on the water. Some estimated a 10 day
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trip to South Africa, others 14 days, others 16 days. Other lads were trying to work out our course. After 2 days one bright lad estimated that we were nearing the Tropic of Capricorn, but actually we hadn’t crossed the Equator. Anyway the heat was becoming terrific, and most of the time was spent on deck. The blackout had to be strictly observed during the hours of darkness, but we did have a break from this at Freetown.
The R.A.F were beginning to become organised. Various jobs were allotted. There were guards (for night duty), and porthole guards during the day. There were [inserted] also [/inserted] “sweepers up,” [inserted] and [/inserted] cookhouse duties. I was caught for the latter and it turned out to be a permanent job for the remainder of the voyage.
There were six of us detailed for this job, which consisted of scrubbing potatoes, peeling and slicing pumpkins, peeling potatoes, and cutting cabbage. We did not raise any objections to the job at all, because it occupied a part of our
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time. Furthermore we were excused guard and porthole duties and even the duties of mess orderlies. We managed to meet the ships’ butcher who was one of our best friends. This gentleman was in charge of the refrigerators where both the meat and fruit were stored. Hence, at dusk each evening he gave us the job of depositing empty crates and boxes over the side Of course these were not always empty, and after filling our topee covers with oranges or apples we smuggled them down to the quarters to distribute among our various pals. On several occasions we were given large lumps of cheese, which made a very good breakfast in lieu of the liver or porridge. The last night we were on board ship the butcher gave two of us half a shoulder of freshly cooked lamb. This was soon torn apart in the quarters and enjoyed by the lads especially after the food we had been experiencing.
The chief cook wasn’t a bad fellow, but we couldn’t get much from him except a
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daily can of tea. His job was not one of the best – as the cookhouse was like hell itself with the heat of the ovens and also the tropical heat as well. He had some army cooks to assist him, but these dodged the work when we were around
For almost three weeks of the voyage there was a daily issue of 2 bottles of minerals to each man. These consisted of ginger ale, lemonade or quinine tonic. The latter was bitter and consequently if you didn’t grab your ration at first then “you’d had it” and were left with these.
After 3 weeks of voyage the entertainments officer suddenly woke up. He picked out some of the talent chiefly from the army, and put on a grand concert. In fact it was very popular among the lads, and gave us food for thought.
A Church service was held on each Sunday morning, and I attended, not only from the religious point of view but to relieve the monotony quite a bit. The days slowly passed, and
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the weather began to become cooler and the sea much rougher. It was rumoured that we were now passing through the “Roaring Forties” which I think most Geography Books elucidate quite fully.
In the meantime a Sports Meeting was held between the R.A.F and the Army. The former being rather lazy and lacking in discipline were easily beaten by the army. In fact it was a poor show put up by the R.A.F, and the Army had scored quite a big point. The voyage was nearing it’s end, and spirits began to rise at the possibility of setting foot on land again. The officer came to lecture us on the usual subject, and the usual precautions. The native type was also discussed as an addition. After that, we knew that land was not far away and the next morning we awakened to see Durban in front of us and there were loud cheers from everyone. We collected all our kit together, and by 3pm we were all safe on land giving the S.S. Mataroa a soldiers farewell.
Collection
Citation
F T Dunn, “My life in the RAF - chapter 1,2 and 3 (F Dunn),” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed January 12, 2026, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/collections/document/40046.