1 25 44 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/359/5527/PFraserDW1504.1.jpg e83b7596b2100cb8c2b204db7e6daf7f https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/359/5527/AFraserD150713.1.mp3 8a9fa28cd8459c111675c687c272ffe4 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Fraser, David D Fraser Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy. Description An account of the resource One oral history interview with Warrant Officer David Fraser. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2015-07-27 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Fraser, DW Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document AM: Ok, so this interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is myself Annie Moody and the interviewee is David Fraser. The interview is taking place at David’s home in Winchelsea in Kent. No. DF: Sussex. AM: Sussex. DF: East Sussex. AM: In East Sussex. DF: Yeah. AM: On the 13th of July 2015. So if you can just tell me just a little bit about your, your family background, schooling and childhood? DF: Yeah. AM: Schooling and what have you. DF: I was born in Northumberland. And I was there until I was seven. Then we moved to Wales and that’s where I was educated, in Wales. But, but education was nil. Just the three Rs and I didn’t get to grammar school or, I sat the scholarship but failed [laughs]. Then pressed on and left school at fourteen. And I was too young to join the RAF even as an apprentice but I was determined to join the RAF from an early age. From the time I was a toddler I was always interested in aircraft. And so I had to wait till I was seventeen and a half, which I did. AM: So what did you do in between? DF: Oh. AM: Between fourteen and seventeen? DF: I had various, I had a great time ‘cause there was plenty of jobs about and I just went - I had a factory job in a radio factory. I had one in a motorcycle factory. And I just bided my time until I was seventeen and a half and then I joined the RAF. AM: So when you say I joined the RAF. Just talk me through that. How? What did you do first? How did it work? DF: Oh I just made an application and they gave me an appointment up in London – Kingsway and I had this exam to be done which was easy and wrote an essay about my experiences in London and I joined as a flight mechanic. I thought, I was under the impression that a flight mechanic would be associated with flying and, but I wasn’t. I was a humble mechanic. AM: Did they give you a choice or did they say that - DF: I could have had any choice really. When the flight sergeant read this essay he said are you sure you want to be a flight mechanic? I said yes. So I enlisted as a flight mechanic. AM: And this was in? 19 - DF: 1939. AM: ’39. DF: February ‘39. AM: So before the war had started. DF: Yeah and - AM: So then what happened? DF: And then I went on a flight mechanic course which involved a lot of filing metal and God knows what and I, I tried to fail the course. I just wasn’t interested in flight mechanicing and at the end of the course I saw the CO and I explained that I was not interested in the thing and they passed me with forty percent, the lowest possible pass mark. He said when you get to your squadron when you’re posted you’ll [remaster?]. So that’s what I did and what they wanted pilots, navigators and gunners and I volunteered for the pilot’s course but the waiting list was three or four months and I was afraid I might miss the war so I got the gunners course. AM: Where, where, where were you living at this point? DF: Cranwell. I was at Cranwell then. AM: Ok. DF: Which is not far from Lincoln. And - AM: So you went, you went on the - DF: Went on the gunnery course in Scotland. AM: In Scotland? DF: Evanton Gunnery School. AM: And this is still just pre-war or? DF: No the war was on then. That was 1940. AM: Was on. Oh right. Ok, so what was that like? DF: Great fun. Flying about. We had lumbering pre-war aircraft and in a high wind they’d fly backwards. AM: What, what aircraft were they? DF: They were Harrows, Handley Page Harrows. They were so slow that coming back one day I was in the rear turret and we were trying to fly over the High Street parallel with the high street and which was rather, which was forbidden and I saw the local copper get his book out and take our number [laughs]. He took our number. When we got back we got reported and hauled up before the CO for low flying. AM: And this was still, so this is while you were in training DF: 1940. AM: And this is while you were training? DF: Yes. While training, yes. AM: Ok, so what, what was the training actually like? What did that consist of? DF: Oh. Firing. Air to air firing from air to air firing and air to ground firing. Stripping guns and learning all about the mechanism of them and how they worked and we had a month. That took a month and then after that we went to operational training unit which is another three months. AM: So where was OT? DF: That was in Scotland. AM: That was in Scotland as well? DF: Yeah. Yeah. Lossiemouth, Scotland. AM: So what did you do there? What did that consist of? DF: We got there and one morning we were told to report to the hangar and the hangar was full of bods just milling around. The idea was to just mill around and find people you had something in common with and that’s how you crewed up. It was a marvellous system. And you, you found chaps you took a liking to and they reciprocated and that was the way a crews was formed. There were six of us in the crew. AM: Who chose who? DF: Hmmn? AM: Who actually chose who? Who took the lead in it? DF: Oh pilot, one of the Australian pilots. We had two Australian pilots. They’d been around the offices and seen who got the best marks. And that was what happened. I had good marks at gunnery so they, ‘well he’s a good bloke’ and picked me and that was it. AM: Were you with anyone else that you’d done the gunnery training with? Oh no you would all have been together wouldn’t you and milling around as you put it. DF: Oh yes we were all there and we just formed up crews at that, on that morning. AM: So you’ve got your crew. Then what? DF: Then we started training as a crew. AM: As a crew. DF: Yeah. AM: In what kind of aircraft? DF: Wellingtons. AM: In Wellingtons. DF: Yeah and - AM: So how did that go? What was that like? DF: Well it was a bit dicey because we used to lose on average one crew per course. There were six crews per course and we used to lose one, an average one, one every course. Weather conditions primarily, hitting mountains or getting lost, snowstorms and God knows what, not and aircraft maintenance wasn’t the best ‘cause they were rushing things through and I think things got missed and - AM: So as a rear gunner training? DF: Ahum. AM: What were you shooting at? DF: Oh whatever they – sometimes they’d send a spitfire up and we’d have cameras, and have camera gunnery and they would develop later on, see how we’d got on. And and other aircraft again drogue, with a drogue towing - you’d fire at that and it was good fun really. We were there for about three months – November, December, January, February, March – yes just over three months. Then we went to the squadron. AM: And at - DF: At Marham. AM: At Marham so - DF: Norfolk. AM: Which squadron? DF: 115 squadron. AM: 115. DF: Yeah and we were only there just over a month, then we were shot down. [laughs] AM: So how many operations did you actually do? DF: Four. AM: Four. DF: Yeah. AM: Where did you go on operation? DF: Emden was the first one. Then Brest after the Scharnhorst and Gneisenau battle ships and the last one was Hamburg when we were shot down. AM: And this was in, still 1940? DF: ‘41. AM: We’ve moved to ‘41 now. DF: ’41. May 10th ‘41 we were shot down. AM: So describe that to me. The shooting down, and what happened. DF: Well we were, went up and approached the target and just before we got there we were knocked off course by a, with a blast of blasts so we went around again and that was our undoing. If we’d just got out, got out of it we’d have been ok but went around again doing the job properly and then caught in a cone of searchlights. There was one pilot beam which, and that latches on to you and the rest follow and you’re caught in this cone of lights like a sort of gnat [laughs] and they shot the hell out of us and hit, hit the hydraulics so I couldn’t operate any guns. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t operate, I had no gunsights which was electrical had been knocked out so I was useless. Nothing. I couldn’t manipulate anything. The gun, nothing would move ‘cause we rely upon hydraulic pressure for movement. And there I was. And then there was a silence. That meant a fighter was coming in and come in he did and he proceeded to sort of knock the hell out of us, set fire to the flares in the flare rack and she started blazing and that was the start of the, the whole thing. AM: So then what happened? Describe it to me if you can. DF: Of course, normally as a rear gunner you could just turn, turn the turret around, jetison the doors and just drop out but of course I couldn’t do that because the damned thing was jammed up so I squeezed back in, went up the fuselage towards the nose and there I saw Alex the second pilot, Aussie, he was lying bleeding profusely. He was bleeding in the arm and chest and I got him, stuffed him through the hatch, put my hand through to the rip cord. I said, ‘pull for God’s sake’ and anyhow I pushed him out and I looked out and saw him. His parachute opened so that was ok [laughs] and he recovered later on but he was badly wounded. And then I bailed out and the country I landed in was very much like Romney Marsh. All level and no cover at all, there were no trees [laughs] or anything. I really felt exposed but I hit the ground and as I hit the ground I was swinging. I swung forward and landed on the base of my spine and I thought I’d broken my back. So I just lay there manipulating toes and hands to see if I was ok. Everything moved, worked. And a great herd of cows gathered around me. Friesian cattle. They all came out sniffing around the parachute so I just lay there for about half an hour ‘cause they were good cover and they just, they were nice and warm too these cattle, and I just laid there. And then when I came to my senses I got the parachute and stuffed it into a dyke and sank it by putting a great, a bit of rock on top of it and I thought now where I shall go. The obvious thing was Denmark and that was occupied by Germans so anyhow I made, I was making for the Danish border. I thought I might have a bit of luck, get over it, get picked up by Danish patriots. I hadn’t gone more than about a quarter of a mile and as dawn was breaking I came to a hut. It was a hut occupied by searchlight crews and there was a sentry outside and he saw me. He said, ‘ach Englander flieger for you the war is over. Come’. And that was it. I was hauled in to this hut and there I saw Alex lying on this table. AM: Alex was the Aussie? DF: Who was wounded, yeah AM: Ahum. DF: I thought he was dying. But he was breathing, shallow breathing and he said to me, “Look what they’ve done to my best shirt.” His shirt was all mangled and bleeding and then I was whipped away and put on to a lorry and taken away. And I I didn’t know what had happened to Alex. I thought, honestly thought he’d died until nine months later he turned up in the camp. He’d recovered. AM: What happened to the rest of the crew? DF: Well Bill the navigator, when I bailed out I put Alex through the hatch I looked across at Bill who was bent over the main hatch and I yelled, “Come this way.” But he made a gesture like that - so I left, at him waving, went out assuming he’d got out from the main hatch. But what had happened, I didn’t realise, what what had happened, when my turret caught fire Bill came down to give me a hand with the fire extinguisher by which time I’d got the fire out so on returning, he was returning to position and he got the second burst of machine gun fire, was hit in the intestines, went right through the back and right through the front and I didn’t realise he’d been wounded. Yeah. Then the skipper called out and got no reply so he assumed we were all out and he bailed out and Bill was left in the machine on his own. He was a navigator, he wasn’t a pilot and he thought, ‘well I think I may as well, I’m wounded I may as well dive into the, dive into the deck and get it over with’ and he suddenly thought no he’d carry on. He took over and brought the aircraft down, the wheels, brought the aircraft down and he just came below some high tension cables, past a row of cottages in front of a hospital [laughs] and again they came and cut him out of the aircraft and whipped him into the hospital and this eminent French surgeon who was there, one of the the leading surgeons in France performed an operation on him and that saved his life. But later on he got dysentery and the stitches all broke and that was it. He never ever recovered properly. He always had this open wound and, but the skipper, Andy he bailed out and drowned in the river. He just didn’t release his chute obviously and there was - so one killed and two wounded and three whole. AM: Three in one piece. So you’re on the lorry. You’re being taken away somewhere. DF: Yes. AM: Then what? DF: And went, went to the officer’s mess, of the - AM: The mess in? DF: The squadron who’d shot us down. German officer’s mess but first of all we were interviewed by the couple of bods there and they were trying to get information out of us there and I just gave my name, rank and number. And they said, “Hang ‘em. Hang ‘em.” Anyhow I didn’t say anything at all and they let me go into another room. Then they took us, a car came and took us to the mess and then we met the guy who shot us down. And he gave us Cognac and coffee and had a general chin wag with them and they said don’t worry the war won’t last long about another six months and the Fuehrer will be riding on a white horse down Whitehall and we said, “Wait and see” and this amused them this ‘wait and see’. And we finally left and they all came on to the front steps to see us off and they all said, “Wait and see” ha ha ha and we said, “Yes wait and see.” And I often wonder how many of them remained alive to wait and see. AM: And you say us. So how many of you were there? DF: There were two, there were two of us there. AM: So, you because - DF: Two of us and one was a bit further afield and he joined us later on. So there were three of us at [unclear] we were picked up and eventually made our way – or were taken to Hamburg station, put on a train and taken to Dulag Luft which was a reception depot. AM: Ahum. DF: And again we were interrogated by, by a guy speaking flawless English. He was, he could have been English and we gave our name, rank and number and he wanted to know what squadron we were from and they were interested in the Stirling. The Stirling at that time had just come operational and they had no information on it and they wanted to know about it. Anyhow, I didn’t give them any information and he pushed a packet of cigarettes and he said, “Didn’t I compete against you at the University Games in London?” I said, “No. No.” And he gave me these cigarettes which I politely refused. I was a non-smoker. After about an hour he, they let me into the compound with the rest, the rest of the bods and we met up in the, in the main sort of main hall. And there were about thirty aircrew there who had been shot down in the last few days. And they had permanent staff there who had been shot down way back. And we then went, the RAF camp wasn’t ready, hadn’t been built so we went around various other camps, army camps and we went to Austria, Poland a sort of cooks tour of Germany and we finally settled up and we ended up in Lamsdorf which an army camp near Breslau and there we remained until the RAF camp was ready which was Stalag Luft III. AM: So how long were you at the one before Stalag Luft III? How long were you there for? DF: Oh about, our wanderings, we were wandering about almost a year. AM: On trains or - DF: On trains yeah. We’d go, they’d take us to a camp. We might be there two months. Another camp we might be there for three months. AM: And who was in, you said they were army camps. DF: They were army camps yeah. AM: So who else was in them? DF: Well the last one, in Austria in a place called Wolfsburg, was a French army camp. There were about eighteen thousand Frenchmen. And - AM: What did you do? DF: We just - AM: When you were in there? DF: We just lived. Existed really. We commandeered the ablutions there and made them fit for use, our own use after the French had made a terrible sort of mess of them. The odd French peasant he doesn’t mind where he, where he sort of goes does he? AM: But you were a bit more discerning. DF: And we cleaned it up and it became our own, our own ablutions and everything. AM: So then Stalag Luft III. Tell me about that. DF: Oh that 1942 we got there. End of ’42. And that was where we really organised there. An organised camp. There were libraries there and skilled teachers. That’s where a lot of guys started their university experience. Qualified in the intermediate. AM: Amongst the POWs? DF: Yes. AM: So they, who ran the - DF: Ran the, ran the camp, yeah. Now my pilot, the one who was wounded, he took his intermediate economics exams on [?] university and he ended up being the deputy vice chancellor of the University at Perth. AM: What did you do? DF: What did I do? I did, I learned German. I read a lot and increased my knowledge generally and of course mixing with all different types of people what they knew rubbed off on you and I just gleaned information that way. AM: And you were there for how long? DF: All told four years. AM: Four years. DF: Ahum. AM: I can’t imagine it. DF: And we dug tunn, I was involved in five tunnels. AM: Oh tell me a bit more about that. DF: Well the first one we dug was what we called a moler and it was just, the actual tunnel was about the same size as your body, your shoulders and it was a question of knees and elbows and digging with a implement and the earth was shoved back like a mole does and after about a half an hour you had to give up and signal you were passing out. Of course you had a rope around your ankle and when you gave a signal they pulled you, hauled you back. Next man in and so it went on. There was a brand new washhouse there the Germans had built, they weren’t using it, between us and the fence and we thought if we could get to that washhouse and crack a pipe and get some fresh air and I happened to have been digging with the pipe and there it was, this lovely salt glaze pipe and I had a bit of a rock with me and I gave it a couple of bangs and it broke and the fresh air came and, oh marvellous. And then the winter came along and the position we were in it was visible. We had dug during the summer by putting up two sticks with a blanket and just were sunbathing ostensibly but it was just that it was just the cover and there was just the blanket was just high enough so that the guard couldn’t see over it. And we dug this and yes carried on for some weeks and then we had to give up because winter started you couldn’t sunbathe. AM: Don’t sunbathe in winter. So that was one tunnel. DF: That was the first one. AM: And what happened to it? Where did it, did it actually get to the outside? DF: Oh yes it got about forty yards and we had to give it, had to leave it so I don’t know what happened to it. It probably caved in in the end. AM: So that was the first one? DF: The first one. AM: And then? DF: The second one was one from the one that had been discontinued, again in a washhouse and that was, that was quite a big one and I started on that and that’s when the Americans came into the camp then. American officers and I’ll never forget this ‘cause I was familiar with Roger and Wilko they were the sort of references to Roger and out or Wilco - will cooperate and this guy was a captain. I was handing up sand and he kept saying Roger. And I honestly thought he had two blokes up there - one called Wilkins and the other called Roger. [Laughs] You simply say passing the bucket to one guy Roger, Roger, AM: And that was sand? DF: That was compact sand really. AM: So how did you stop the tunnel collapsing? DF: Well we dug with, I had a big tablespoon just with the handle off and dug like that ‘cause it was easy digging. Too easy actually. Got some collapses and so had to retain a dome shape. So it kept its own shape and that damp got in to that and we gave it up. And the big tunnel, the best tunnel was the biggest one and that was again near a wash house, near a soakaway. We started on that. Dug down about ten feet down for the shaft and then along towards the wire and it hadn’t rained, we got about fifty yards, it hadn’t rained for about, nearly a month and suddenly it belted it down and it didn’t stop for about five days and we were digging near the soakaway so there was a subsidence in the soil and we saw a German ferret, we called them ferrets, snooping around and we saw him probing cause he saw the ground subsiding and so we went, we went to the barrack hut and the next thing we knew there was a hell of a commotion and there was German fire engine came dashing in and this guy had fallen in through into the soakaway and this fire engine came in and they got a special harness and put it around him and hauled him out and everyone cheered and they got their pistols out and started firing. I’ve never seen blokes move so quickly. AM: Firing in what direction? At you? DF: Oh in the direction of us, yes. So I saw blokes making for the huts, diving through windows and [laughs] AM: Was anybody killed? DF: No. AM: Was anybody shot? DF: No. AM: No. DF: No and then, it was then that they started issuing notices saying that all materials because you had we had to used beds and bed boards which in the German eyes was sabotage and they just said that anyone caught tunnelling in future and misusing German material would be guilty of sabotage and would spend a long time in prison or might, could even be shot. That didn’t dissuade us. We just carried on. And then we went up to Barth a place called Barth on the Baltic coast and started a tunnel there cos the Yanks were there and we. AM: So you moved up. DF: Yes. AM: From where you were. DF: Yes. AM: To a different camp. And what camp was that? DF: Barth B A R T H AM: It was actually called, right ok. DF: And we started a tunnel there with the Americans and we were sent back to our own camp again then we started another one from a barrack, from a barrack hut which meant moving a big stove each time, each time and that got us, it was arduous so we gave it up and that was the end of the tunnelling really. AM: So you never actually got any of them out? DF: We didn’t no. AM: Were you aware of what was happening with the ‘great escape’ tunnel? DF: No we, we knew the Germans were getting trigger happy. They were very concerned about people using materials, sabotage and God knows what and they issued notices in the camp - escape is no longer a sport, it could result in death. And the first information we had was when we got – where were we then – up near Konigsburg. We’d all had to go, move camp and in through the gates came a convoy of motorcycles and vehicles all armed with heavy machine guns and they proceeded to cordon around us. We were out in the open some sort of roll surrounded us and this German, CO, German CO read out what had happened. He said that fifty, fifty officers had been shot and we all booed and then they clicked their safety catches and started getting - so our senior man said, “Cool it blokes, cool it blokes” don’t want any disasters but we knew. They said they were shot while trying to escape but they they’d been recaptured and then shot. We found - AM: Did you know that or found out later on? DF: Later on yes yeah. Marvellous, good men lost their, the whole secret organisation leaders were shot and there were several Germans hanged for it after the war. AM: So what, going back to you and where you were then. So we’re getting towards the end of the war. What things started happening? DF: Yeah. AM: What? DF: Well we ended up at a place called [Fallingbostel?] it wasn’t far from the main autobahn between Hanover and Hamburg and things were getting a bit tight and all of a sudden one day you’re going to march, got to get out and march. So everyone packed up their belongings and gathered, and carried what they could and assembled outside the gates. We thought to hell with this. This could lead to hostage taking so we said no we’re not marching so there were five of us avoided the Germans. They were searching the whole camp get people out of it. We hid up in various places and when the coast was clear we went out through the wire and made contact with our own army. AM: How? How? DF: We just went out into the open and we passed through the German lines and saw Germans laying mines in culverts and we met up with - we saw a tank coming towards us over the brow of a hill and the gun swung around and the gun, comms tower was opened and a black bereted head popped out. We said, “Don’t fire. We’re English.” So they drew up about twenty yards from us, the crew got out and gave us cigarettes and there we were smoking and - AM: You were a non-smoker. DF: No. No. I tell you what, when I was twenty one, on my twenty first birthday there was a consignment of Red Cross parcels. So everyone – ‘oh food, marvellous’ but it wasn’t food it was tobacco. Cigarettes. The issue was thirteen per man so I had my thirteen cigarettes. I thought well I can’t eat I might as well bloody smoke. That’s when I started smoking. Twenty one. AM: So here’s the tank. DF: And, and they drew up and we sat there chatting on a grassy bank and we’d earlier, before we’d met the tank, we’d come to a farm. Went into the farmhouse and there at a long farm table were the farmer’s wife and about six Germans – troops. So we questioned them and obviously they were no longer interested in fighting, they just more or less deserted, or given themselves up. And when we, when we spoke to the tank commander and told them about the guys in the farmhouse his eyes lit up so he sent a guy, one man up to the farm about a mile back and he came back not with six blokes but about thirty. They were all skulking in the cowsheds. And this guy he’d sent up there was an Austrian and who’d been in England since 1936 and he joined the British army, marvellous bloke. And I always remember this squadron, this tank commander was called Major Hepburn and everyone called him Kathy [laughs] and when these, these Germans came down, he lined them all up and they put their packs in front of them and he said, “Right open them up” and they opened them up. There were tins of beef and pork and eau de cologne and cigarettes, cigars so he said, “There you are blokes take what you want” so we took, there were tins of meat and God knows what and put them in our packs. And then he said you’re running, you’re running a bit of a risk he said ‘cause there are still troops hiding up in woods. This was the SS. And so they armed us with rifles and ammunition and gave us a driver and a jeep and we went back about ten miles up to divisional headquarters and dropped us off there. So we were free once again. We just we went back through the lines again everywhere like a lot of bandits with rifles and and yards of ammo wound around us and if we felt hungry we just caught up with the nearest army thing and they fed us and gave us a bed for the night and it was a marvellous week really. It was, was blazing hot sun. Marvellous. AM: And you just worked your way. DF: Yeah worked our way across the - AM: Where did you end up? DF: Well we saw six RAF blokes coming down the road so we said, “Where are you from?” And they said, “Oh we’re from a transport squadron he said but a bit further back, about a mile along there’s a fighter squadron flying Tempests,” and we thought they’re the boys so we walked up there and the sentry said, “Halt” and brought the guard out and took our weapons away and we made statements they gave us pieces of paper saying the bearer is an escaped prisoner of war. And then we had a marvellous shower and then were, we were guests of the officer’s mess where we drank and oh I’ve never drunk before in my life and funnily enough it must have been because we hadn’t drunk for ages but we couldn’t get drunk. We just, it was a marvellous sense. But the CO, the group captain he went slowly under the table, just collapsed really under the table. And then there was another guy who saw us - he turned around and embraced one of our mates. He was, Gerry Clark who was with us, he was bilingual French and this guy saw him who was a French, French ace and he turned around and he saw him and, “Oh Gerry” and they were from Biggin Hill. That’s where they’d last met. And Gerry had collided with a German in a dog fight and he and the German were in the same hospital. But Pierre Clostermann was the name of this, this French ace. He wrote two books Flames in the Sky is one and Big Show is the other one. AM: Ahum. DF: And he always wore, always wore a pair of guns like he was some old cowboy. He was quite a flamboyant creature and after the war he became an MP. AM: Ahum. DF: Alsace yeah from Alsace. AM: So how did you actually get back to England? DF: Oh then they thought there’s an Anson going back to Dunsfold tomorrow and oh lovely we can go back just as we are and just as we are dressed in scruff order but they had to, they had to inform Movement Control and we had to go through channels and they gave us army uniforms, all brand new and we had to go through, go through with the rest of the guys and we ended up at Brussels and they were flying in petrol in jerry cans and flying out prisoners of war. So we flew back in a Stirling and I flew back in the rear turret. And then we, we had, after that we went, we had, to Cosford to be debriefed at Cosford and given RAF stuff. RAF uniforms. AM: Proper uniforms. DF: That’s it. And then given pay, indefinite leave and that was it. Anti-climax. AM: So what did you do? DF: I went back. I went home and that was it. Show over. AM: When you said they gave you your pay so that’s for all the time that you’d been gone. DF: Oh they didn’t give us the lot. They gave us an instalment. AM: Right. So what did you do afterwards then? DF: What? AM: You’ve had the anti-climax. You’re back. You’re home. DF: Yes. AM: Then what? DF: I just remained in the RAF till my demob number came up and meanwhile I met my wife. Met her in June and we were married in October. And it worked out marvellously well and she was demobbed first and then I was demobbed and then I thought well what do we do now? So I got a government grant and trained as a chartered surveyor but I failed the ex, again my mind wasn’t a hundred percent. I just went through the motions and I just failed the exam in one subject and then I gave it up. And I’m glad I did because the idea, in retrospect the idea of being in a routine job never appealed to me so what I did I joined, later on I joined a company selling farm buildings and it was marvellous. I was a freelance representative out every day, living in a place I wanted to live in – Cornwall. It was marvellous. That’s where the family were brought up. We were twenty years down there. AM: Right. And here you are. DF: Here we are. AM: In Winchelsea. DF: Yeah. In our second love, Romney Marsh. AM: Ahum. Any other stories for me or shall we switch off? DF: Hmmn? AM: Any other stories for me or shall I switch off? DF: I could go on forever I think but - AM: Do feel free. DF: No, then we were in Cornwall and the company, the company I was with, I was a freelance agent and the company I was with thought it was too far too come to erect buildings in Cornwall. They were, they were in Herefordshire so they just withdrew the labour from Cornwall and left me high and dry. So I thought to hell with it I’ve just about had enough of this bloody rat race so I gave it up and I started gardening and I’ve never had a more pleasant time in my life. Self-employed gardening. Marvellous. I used to do a bit of building. AM: Out in the weather. DF: Marvellous yeah. AM: Wonderful so you had a good life. DF: I had a good life. Very fortunate, very lucky. I had sixty nine years of married life. Marvellous. Got two nice daughters and a son in Australia. Good family. AM: And you go swimming DF: Yeah. AM: When you can. In the sea. DF: Yeah. AM: At 94. DF: Yeah. AM: I think on that note. DF: Yes. AM: I’ll switch the recorder off. DF: Ok Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with David Fraser Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2015-07-13 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AFraserD150713 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Description An account of the resource David Fraser enlisted in the Royal Air Force in 1939 and trained as a mechanic. He re-mustered as soon as he was able and flew four operations as an air gunner with 115 Squadron, before his aircraft was shot down over Hamburg, in May 1941. He spent the next four years as a prisoner of war in Stalag Luft 3. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Annie Moody Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Julie Williams Maureen Clarke Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:45:54 audio recording Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Germany Great Britain Poland England--Norfolk Poland--Żagań Germany--Hamburg Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1940 1941-05-10 1942 115 Squadron air gunner Air Gunnery School aircrew bale out bombing crewing up Dulag Luft flight mechanic Gneisenau ground crew Harrow Operational Training Unit prisoner of war RAF Evanton RAF Lossiemouth RAF Marham Scharnhorst searchlight shot down Spitfire Stalag 357 Stalag 8B Stalag Luft 1 Stalag Luft 3 Stalag Luft 6 Stirling training Wellington https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1142/11698/AStathamR160627.mp3 595eec4c7681578967589def030c70b7 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Statham, Rex R Statham Description An account of the resource An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Rex Statham (b. 1924, 1861640 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a flight engineer with 10 and 158 Squadrons. The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-06-27 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Statham, R Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document AM: Well right. So, first of all we’re here in Luton and it’s Monday the 27th of June 2016. This is Annie Moody for the International Bomber Command Centre. I’ve also got Gary Rushbrook with me and we’re talking today to Rex Statham. RS: That’s right. AM: So, I’ll tell you what, before we start can you just tell me what your date of birth was Rex? RS: Yeah. The 25th of January 1924. AM: 1924. RS: Yeah. AM: Right. And where were you born? RS: In Luton. AM: You were, you were born in Luton. RS: Yeah. I think it was 37 Princess Street. I think it was. I’m not quite sure the number. I can’t remember it. AM: Yeah. RS: I didn’t see it. AM: What’s that? RS: We moved across the road after that. AM: Right. What did your parents — RS: When my dad died. AM: I was going to say what did your parents do? So, what was your early life like? RS: Well, my father got killed. We moved across the road. I think it was 37 to fifty —no it wouldn’t be 37 but we moved up to 51. That’s where I, that’s where I was born. 51 Princess Street. AM: And, and then? So, what happened to your dad? What sort of work did he do? RS: Well, he was in the hat trade. He was in the hat trade. He used to sell ribbons and all that sort of thing. AM: Yeah. RS: I don’t know, I don’t know quite what, what, a shop or whatever or if he travelled for somebody. AM: Yeah. RS: I’m not quite sure about that. AM: What about brothers and sisters? How many of you were there? RS: Never, never had any brothers and sisters. AM: So just you and you were an only child. RS: Yeah. AM: And you said your dad died. So how old were you then? RS: Yeah. He died. He got, he got knocked off his motorbike. And he died after that. AM: How old were you then Rex? ‘ish? RS: Oh crikey. I can’t quite remember. I don’t really know. I was only small. I can only just remember him. AM: Yeah. RS: I can’t remember. Probably about five or six. Maybe. Maybe not quite as old as that. AM: So, so young. RS: Yeah. AM: So, what, what was your life like then then with your mum? RS: Well, when, when he died we moved. After a time we moved across the road. Yeah. It must have been because, earlier because I can remember I wasn’t at school. We moved across the road to live with my grandmother and grandfather. They had a hat factory across the road. We moved into that. In to their place with them. AM: Yeah. Because we’re talking pre-war so pre-national insurance. RS: Oh crumbs, yes. Yeah. AM: Or widow’s pension. RS: Oh yes. Yeah. AM: Or anything like that. RS: Yeah. I don’t think she ever got that. AM: No. RS: Yeah. That was that. Moved across the road and I know that, I know that I got, they had to go round and find some place that would let me go, take me. Like a school. Because I wasn’t old enough to go to school because apparently I nearly got run over by a lorry and they saw it and they got me in at some, it was a kiddie’s, a little kiddie’s school. You know. There was no such things as nursery schools in them days. It was a little school. AM: Yeah. RS: York House in Luton it was. I can remember that. AM: So, what were school days like? Did you enjoy school? RS: Not really. Well, I did and I didn’t. I weren’t a lover of school. I weren’t a lover of it. Definitely not a lover of it. Now, I went to, I went to Wallace Street School in Luton which was an ordinary council school you know. And then I went to the Modern School. I passed the exam to get in the Modern School and I went there. And then after that I went up to a place called Clarks College in London. It was [pause] and then the war broke out. I didn’t, you know — AM: What, what were you going to do at Clarks College though? RS: Well, it was just an educational place, you know. I really wanted to go in the Navy. That’s what I wanted to go in. I was absolutely barmy on going in that. I wanted to be an engine room officer artificer apprentice. That’s what I wanted to be but I never got there. AM: So, what happened? Why the RAF then? How did all that come about? RS: Well, it, it was during the war. War came along and they was after — and I, well I was working at Hayward Tylers. I was apprenticed at Hayward Tyler’s in Luton. And, I don’t know, everybody else was joining up and all that. And I just wanted to go and join up. So, I went and joined up as ground crew you see. AM: Why the RAF though after you’d been so mad on the Navy? RS: I don’t know. I don’t know really, why. And I don’t know. But — AM: Maybe your mates were joining the RAF. RS: Yeah. The boy who lived next door was in the RAF. And yeah. I joined up. I joined up as a flight mechanic. And — AM: Where did you go to join up? Can you remember what, what — RS: Yeah. Edgeware. AM: What was the process? RS: I joined up at the Drill Hall in Edgeware. I had to go up to Edgeware to join up. I had my medical up there and all the lot and then when I got called up, which was quite a long time after I had my medical and that I went, I went to Cardington. And from Cardington I went to Yarmouth on the foot bashing course. And the assault course which we went on. Used to go up and down the [pause] climb up and down the, you know, the funfair. AM: In Yarmouth. RS: A lot of nonsense really. AM: Great Yarmouth. RS: Great Yarmouth. Yeah. AM: So, where you staying then? Where were you all in digs? RS: Oh, we was all in civvy digs. I was in a house in Wellesley Road. I remember that. And the guard room was next door. That was another house. The guard room was the house next door. Yeah. That’s, that was, I remember doing my square bashing. I quite enjoyed that. AM: Yeah. RS: And — GR: Did you know what you was going to be then? Did you know? Had you — RS: Yeah. I knew I was going, I knew I was going in for, to be a flight mechanic but — GR: So, as ground crew. RS: You had to. Everybody had to that. GR: Yeah. RS: Initiation course. Initial course. You know. Other: Could you pass me my handbag. There it is. [recording paused] RS: Yeah. I did that. And — AM: So this is ground crew isn’t it? RS: Yeah. AM: So, you joined up. RS: I joined up as ground crew. You see. AM: You joined up to be ground crew. RS: You see. And when, when we left Yarmouth I went to Cosford which was a flight mechanics course. GR: Right. RS: And it suddenly struck me that there was people was, as soon as they was passing as flight mechanics they was going overseas. I thought I’m not bloody going to go overseas. I didn’t want to go overseas. So they, they was recruiting for flight engineers. So, I went and re-mustered as a flight engineer. AM: When you say you re-mustered what was the process then to do that? RS: Well, it — AM: You just told them. RS: Well, actually nothing. You just asked if you could go and they give you an aircrew medical which was a farce really. He just came up and see if you was deaf and whispered in your ear. And I can remember him saying, ‘jam tart’ in my ear. Bloody stupid really. And then we went on this course which was, more or less, pretty much a fitters course but included air frames and that. We went on to that. So I passed out from that as a sergeant and I went from there. That was in Christmas 1943 that was. I went up to, come home, went home, come home for Christmas. And after Christmas I went up to Rufforth near York. GR: Yeah. RS: And we, we did our, you know — flying training up there. So, I’d never, never been an aeroplane before. We did our flying training and we was just about to go and be posted to a squadron and the pilot, which was a sergeant — GR: Had you crewed, obviously you’d crewed up by then. RS: We’d crewed up. Yeah. GR: Yeah. RS: We’d crewed up. He said, ‘I don’t want to fly bombers. I want to go on to Transport Command.’ That left us, we was messing about then for about three months doing nothing. AM: How had you crewed up then? RS: How was we crewed up? Well, it’s rather funny because they pushed us all in this big hut with all, there was officers and God knows what, all in this hut and they pushed us all in there. You just walked around and anybody you thought you fancied you just —it was a farce really. And we just crewed up. I crewed up with Spivey, you remember John, err Maurice Spivey. AM: Maurice Spivey. RS: Yeah. He was in it. AM: Who chose? Who chose who? Did you choose him or — RS: Well, no. You just went. You just went and spoke to them and said, ‘Did you want a flight engineer?’ And they sort of said, ‘Yes,’ so that was it. If you liked them. GR: Yeah. RS: If they was alright. Where [pause] and we had a, we got a pilot. He was a squadron leader the pilot was. No, a flight lieutenant. Sorry. A Flight Lieutenant Parry it was. And as soon as we got to — we, we passed out eventually after about another — fair while we passed out again. And we went to Lissett. And — GR: So, this was when you’d been given a squadron. RS: Yeah. Went to Lissett. GR: With a new pilot. RS: Yeah. Flight Lieutenant Parry. GR: Yeah. RS: And he, we got on to Lissett and about the second day we got on to Lissett the flight commander of C Flight which we were put in he, he crashed in Bridlington Bay and all the crew got killed. And they made, made Tom Parry up to a squadron leader. And we was the flight commander’s crew. Well, of course that was, that was heavenly because — GR: So you hadn’t flown any operations yet. RS: No. GR: But straightaway you’re — RS: No. Straightaway. But that was heavenly because you didn’t, you didn’t go on every night. One every night. You had spaces. Long spaces between them, see. AM: What was your first operation to? Can you remember? RS: Yes. I can remember. A place called Ferme D’Urville. It was on the night of D-Day. GR: 5th of June. RS: Yeah. In fact, when I, when I had to get the information to get that medal I wrote all those French trips out. GR: Yeah. RS: I’ve got it in the back room. AM: Yeah. GR: So the start of your operations. RS: Yeah. Do you want to have a look? AM: We’ll have a look afterwards. GR: Yeah. GR: Well we’ll just pause it for a second and we can. AM: Oh. Alright. [recording paused] GR: So your first operation. On the — RS: 5th of — GR: 1st of June actually. RS: I don’t know what that’s — GR: Yeah. The first of June was to Ferme D’Urville. RS: It was a gun sight. I remember that. GR: What was it like though when you were first, when you were in the ops room or you were told — ? RS: Well, it, it was alright. You didn’t think much about it, you see. The first one. You was a bit thrilled to get on it weren’t you? And it was right on the, right on the Pas de Calais area and it was only about, it was just like, shall we say about, well it was, it was as if the guns were firing over us. GR: Yeah. RS: They had to fire over the sea. We didn’t go in, you know we just — GR: You hardly went over French territory. You just — RS: Yeah. Only went over it. But then the next one we went on was a bit different. Went to Trappes. GR: Trappes. RS: Trappes. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. We lost five aircraft on that. GR: What, 158 Squadron lost five? RS: Yeah. It was, I think, I think that was quite a few aircraft lost on that. We went, we went after the marshalling yards to stop the Germans bringing the reinforcements in. GR: Reinforcements up. Yeah. RS: Yeah. GR: And did anything happen to you on that raid? RS: No. GR: No. RS: No. GR: So even though you lost aircraft. RS: We just lost aircraft. Yeah. GR: Yeah. You were alright. RS: Yeah. That was the first time I saw the Eiffel tower from up above. GR: Not bombing it [laughs] RS: No [laughs] We weren’t bombing it. No. We dropped, we went, it was a railway yard just outside Paris. GR: That’s right. Yeah. Yeah. That was quite a famous target that was. Yeah. RS: Trappes. Yeah. GR: Yeah. AM: What was it like then actually, actually seeing — RS: What the Eiffel Tower? AM: No. The railway yards. Actually seeing them and — RS: I couldn’t see them because I was engaged in other things. GR: Yeah. AM: Right. RS: I couldn’t, I was, I didn’t see most of the targets. AM: What were you actually doing then? RS: Well, I was, the pilot was like sitting in front of me and I was, there was this, like this partition and they, all my dials was at the back on an armour plated thing. And I was in there you know and I’ll tell you I was sitting in there but I had to do other things. We used to, we had Window. I don’t know if you know what Window was. GR: Yes. Yeah. RS: It was those metal strips. And it was my job to put them out and they went down the flare chute. RS: Because that was to jam the German radar. RS: That’s right. GR: Yeah. Yeah. RS: But I, what I did most of the time was taking these things out the packet and chucking them down the chute. GR: Yeah. Did you have to do that on every trip? RS: Yeah. GR: So they dropped Window on every trip RS: Yeah. Dropped Window on every trip. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. GR: Now, looking at your list on the 6th of June which was actually D-Day you did two operations. RS: Yeah. We did one in, one at night. One in the early morning and one at night. GR: Right. RS: Yeah. GR: What was that like? Did you actually see the invasion fleet? Did you? RS: Yeah. Yes. We saw, I saw the invasion fleet. Yeah. That was, it was about forty mile long. GR: Yeah. RS: It was massive. You know. GR: As though the English Channel was full. RS: Yeah. In the English Channel. Yeah. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. I saw that. GR: And how did the raids go then? Was it, obviously the daylight one would have been your first daylight raid. RS: Yeah. Yeah. The first daylight. Well — GR: Was that different? Well, obviously it’s different but — RS: It was. Yeah. It was, it was quite, you got quite enthusiastic about it really because you’d never done any. You’d never done it before. You know it’s the first one. GR: Yeah. RS: When you looked out. Yeah. That was [unclear] I remember that. AM: What was that like then seeing all that invasion fleet there? RS: Well, it was, it was quite something. You know, you had a job to take it all in if you know what I mean. There was so much of it and we were, we weren’t all that high. GR: No. RS: Because we wanted to get, to make sure to get this gun emplacement. I think we did get it. I don’t know. But they never sent back again so I presume we got it. It’s, it was quite, seeing all these vessels in the Channel was quite, quite something. GR: Because obviously you knew the invasion was on. RS: Yeah. You could see these merchant ships. GR: Yeah. RS: And then you saw the war ships on the side of them. It was quite, it was quite interesting really. GR: Yeah. AM: Could you actually see the men on the beaches? RS: No. No. No. Couldn’t see that. I don’t think there was anybody on the beaches at that time. GR: Yeah. The first one, the, your first raid, yeah on the Maisy gun emplacements was, yeah, dark. RS: Dark. GR: The daylight was to Chateaudun. RS: Chateaudun. Yeah. GR: In the daylight. Yeah. RS: When, when we went to [pause] where was it? I forget where it was now. We went with Wing Commander Dobson. And he was a pilot. I don’t know if I’ve got it on there. I can remember that. And we was quite low and it was when we, we went to Caen. GR: Yeah. RS: And unfortunately they had crossed the river before we got there and we didn’t know our blokes had crossed the river and we dropped the lot. And it went on our blokes as well. It was a bit, it was a bit — GR: Yes. That was the Canadians wasn’t it? RS: Yeah. GR: Mainly. RS: That’s right. It was. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. Yeah. When we, when we sort of turned in a circle I looked out. I looked out of the side window and we was, well we was low enough to spot this German ack ack gun in a field. Saw that. GR: They were, they were shooting up at you. RS: They weren’t shooting at us. They was shooting up but not us. GR: Yeah. RS: At us. But they were shooting up there. GR: And looking at it you did quite a few operations in support of the Normandy landings. RS: Oh yes. Yeah. GR: All the way through to August. Yeah. RS: That’s right. Yeah. When we went, we used to go after, the Germans had their fighter ‘dromes around there. We used to go and try and bomb the fighter ‘dromes at night. GR: Yeah. RS: It was, it was quite, quite good. GR: And after the Normandy campaign you obviously moved on to — RS: Yeah. GR: The industrial area in Germany. RS: Yeah. We went, we went on to those flying bomb sites which was sort of a waste of time really. AM: Why was that? RS: Well, they was only like ramps and that and so small you had difficulty in hitting them. And the V-2 sites, they moved them about. So you — GR: Yes. RS: You just dropped where you thought, you know. We were told where to go but — GR: Yes. The V-1 sites. RS: Yeah. GR: Were like the proverbial needle in a haystack. RS: Yeah. GR: You know. A small ramp in a — RS: Yeah. That’s right. Yeah. GR: Reasonably large area. RS: And they could move them about. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. Did that. GR: And on the operations across to Germany any near misses? Any close calls? RS: Oh Christ, yes. Yes. Frightened me to death one night. We was going to Hanover. We got to Hanover. We was on the bombing run and a German fighter attacked a Lancaster which did a corkscrew and came up underneath us. There was a hell of a bang and apparently, I didn’t see him but the gunner said they went down because it must have squashed them. And we hadn’t got rid of the bombs. And what, I can’t quite remember, that Lancaster so Stan said was, went down. That, that went down, you know. That must have gone down and crashed. And crashed. GR: He’d come up underneath the Halifax. RS: It come up underneath. Like that. GR: Yeah. RS: Right underneath our bomb bay. GR: Smacked into you. Yeah. RS: And what happened then? There was, oh, there was another bang and the starboard inner engine went flying up in the air. Come up, bolts sheared off and engine went up. GR: So you lost an engine. RS: Yeah. Lost an engine. Yeah. Completely lost it. And we, I turned off, I shut off the fuel cock for the — GR: Yeah. RS: For the starboard inner. And we, we couldn’t open the bomb doors. Anyway, I pumped the bomb doors and pumped the bomb doors and where the, what do you call it switch, where the handle because the engine driven pump which opened the bomb doors had gone with the starboard engine. GR: God. RS: That was, that was driven off the starboard inner engine. And — GR: Was the starboard outer still alright? RS: Yeah. That was alright. GR: That was still going. RS: That was still going. And I managed to get the bomb doors open and we let the bomb, we dropped the bombs and, but when I went to check we still got the, I think, I think it was the four thousand pounder on there I think and that was still hanging up. And we were trying like hell to get rid of this and we couldn’t get rid of it. Anyway, we came back. We got back over the coast and we was going to land at Woodbridge but we weren’t, I was with this bloke. A pilot. McLennan. He wouldn’t. He said, ‘If you can’t get rid of that bomb you’ll have to jump out.’ Anyway, we, we managed to get rid of this bomb just as we almost got to Woodbridge, on the coast and it went. And we crashed it. We went to get the undercarriage down and of course one wheel come down. The other one didn’t and we crashed in the trees at Woodbridge. And that’s, that was how Maurice Spivey, he broke his fingers. GR: Yeah. Maurice Spivey being obviously being obviously another member of the crew. RS: Maurice was the wireless operator. GR: Yeah. Maurice. Yeah. RS: Somehow, I don’t know. He lost his fingers. He never flew again. He didn’t. GR: Right. And that was because you were obviously coming in to land with just the one wheel. RS: Yeah. No. He — I don’t know. GR: But then you, you literally crash landed. RS: Yeah. We crash landed. Yeah. Of course. It tipped over didn’t it? And we went into the woods there. Went into this big wood. I don’t know quite how Maurice got rif, got his fingers but I know he had them and then he had to, they cut them off in the hospital. I don’t know. I think he got frostbite as well because we’d got no, all the glass had gone out all one side of the kite you know. All one side of our Halifax. Where it was damaged with this bloody Lancaster. GR: Yeah. AM: What about the rest of the crew? When that damage happened. RS: Well the mid-upper gunner was alright. The rear gunner was alright. But there was all the papers, you know. The maps and of course it was all like a shower of paper inside so it all blew back. Pat was alright and Geoff was alright. Did you know, did you know Geoff [Heatman?] and Pat [Carroll?] GR: No, I didn’t. No. RS: Didn’t you? GR: I knew Maurice Spivey, but — RS: Yeah. They were alright. AM: You know you said you finally got rid of the bomb just before Woodbridge. RS: Yeah. AM: So you were over, over the Channel by now and in — RS: Well, we was at the North Sea. Not far from — AM: Right. So you dropped it in the sea. RS: Not far from Woodbridge. We dropped it in the sea. Yeah. Pat managed to, I don’t know quite, I, I was working and trying, you know trying the bomb release. This screw. The big butterfly screw and I couldn’t do it and he happened to. Just was lucky and twisted it. AM: Yeah. RS: He got down and had a go twisted it and it just dropped. GR: It was a good job because if you’d have crash landed with that on board. RS: Well, we wouldn’t. GR: No. RS: We wouldn’t have crash landed. GR: You would have jumped out. Yeah. RS: We would have jumped out with our parachute. GR: Did the whole crew, I mean obviously Maurice was injured. Did the rest of the crew get out all right? RS: Oh yeah. GR: Yeah. RS: We all got out. We’d got, we’d got a spare gunner that night. A bloke who hadn’t, this was his first trip. A rear gunner. I can’t think what his name was now. And — GR: That filled him with confidence then. RS: Yeah. It filled him with confidence. He refused to fly again. GR: Oh right. RS: And the last time I saw him he was stripped and working in the cookhouse at Melbourne. Oh God, it was quite a, quite a do that night. GR: Obviously. Yeah. AM: Sounds it. GR: But your crew went back flying. RS: Yeah. GR: Yeah. RS: We had a new rear, another rear gunner because Arthur had, Arthur went sick. GR: Yeah. So a new aircraft. RS: Oh yeah, we had a new aircraft. GR: New rear gunner. Yeah. Yeah. RS: Oh yeah. That one wasn’t any good. That was a write off. GR: Yeah. RS: That was a right off. Yeah. GR: And you carried on? Did you carry on to do, was it thirty operations? RS: Yeah. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. GR: Did a full tour. RS: Yeah. GR: When did your tour finish? RS: Well, I’ll tell you. This was rather funny. I went. I had two to do and I went, I went to, I got posted to Melbourne to do the 10 Squadron, to do the last two. And I did one and then the last one I did was the last raid of the war. That was on a place called Wangerooge. GR: That’s right. Yeah. RS: I remember that. GR: So why did — RS: That was — GR: Sorry. Why? If you’d done twenty eight operations at Lissett with 158. RS: Yeah. GR: Had the rest of the crew done twenty eight or had they done thirty for some reason? RS: Well, some had done more because you see when, when you’re a flight commander’s crew you don’t, what can I say? They don’t do as many as how can I put it. They do. Tom Parry only had twenty to do because he’d done a tour before. So, that left us with ten anyway. And how can I put it? If, if all the crew, if all the crews, their crews were, you know healthy and that. You was just, you just didn’t have anything to do. GR: No. RS: And then they started messing about with these things, didn’t they? GR: Yes. RS: And saying that French trips would only, we’d got about three to one German and all that messing about with. But I was going to say on that last raid on Wangerooge I happened to look up, up and there was a Free French bloody Halifax above us and he dropped his bombs and it went and his big bombs went between our wing and the tail plane. GR: Close call then. RS: Close call that was. GR: On the last raid. RS: Yeah. GR: Just going back a little bit. How did you feel about, obviously you’d been at 158 Lissett and then oh two more operations to go. Can I fly with another crew at 158? No. You can go to 10 Squadron. RS: That’s right. Yeah. GR: Melbourne. RS: Go to 10 Squadron at Melbourne. Yeah. GR: On your own. RS: Yeah. GR: None of the other crew went with you. RS: No. They’d all gone. They’d all gone. GR: Yeah. RS: Stan Hibbert he, he went. He come back from leave to do his last few. GR: Yeah. RS: See. I was on leave when he, Stan finished. You see, we, we when Tom Parry went it was like they, like they took the pilot away from you. GR: Yeah. RS: You were spare. GR: Yeah. RS: You didn’t, you know. GR: It just seems unfair to send you to a complete other squadron. RS: It is. Well — GR: Just to do two ops. RS: Well they did. I did my last two. AM: Can I ask you about, you know when you were talking when you just said they started messing about and France only counted — you had to do three France’s for one German. RS: Yeah. They did. They started messing about. AM: When did they start doing that then? GR: After D-Day. RS: It was, yeah. Way after D-Day when they started saying that they thought the French trips was easy. Well they weren’t. They were, they were just as hard as what the German trips were but they thought that, the powers that be thought it was a doddle and it wasn’t. That’s what they said. AM: So they only counted it as a half an operation. RS: Yeah. That’s right. Yeah. AM: Right. RS: That was the sort of things they did. They, they didn’t play fair with us in a way because what they used to say was Scarecrows when you used to see a lot of fire going up in front of you or on the side of you, you know. They said it was like, what can I say, like a flare which was put up and burst to look like a, you know like an aircraft or something. The Germans put it up. But it wasn’t. It was our blokes being shot down. It was. They weren’t fair. They weren’t fair to you really. We did our bit but some they, they weren’t all that — AM: Why do you think they did that? RS: Well, to stop people being frightened. It’s a bit harrowing when you, when you see an aircraft suddenly burst in front of you. Burst in to flame in front of you. AM: I was going to say I can imagine but I can’t actually. RS: It is. It’s a bit harrowing. AM: Yeah. RS: So they said it was, it was Scarecrows. What the Germans put up to frighten you. AM: Yeah. RS: And it bloody wasn’t. It was some of our kites going down. GR: Yeah. RS: Amazing really. AM: So what, after that then, after the last operation, what happened then? So you’re at Melbourne then. Not at Lissett. RS: Oh what happened then. Oh, that was great. I got sent home for three months. Sent home. Used to get my money through the post. Used to get your wages through the post every fortnight. It was great. And then, oh it, life became quite, quite pleasant. It was, I can’t think [pause] yeah what happened then was we, we was, I had to go back to Lissett for a re-assessment board. And they said, I said, ‘I don’t want to become a, to go back as a flight mechanic or anything like that. I don’t want to do that.’ So, anyway I didn’t hear any more. I got sent back home. The next thing I know I had to go down to Chivenor in North Devon. And I went back down there and we was there for about a fortnight and I got, I got posted up to Stranraer and, and I was on a fitter marines course which was, which when I, when I saw what it was I was quite enthusiastic. We was on these air sea launches. Air sea rescue launches. It was great. It was. And I was a fitter on these air sea rescue launches. And I went for, did the course. We did the course and I got posted up to Invergordon. And oh, it was great up there it was. It was lovely. And then what happened? I can tell you what happened. What was good. We had to [pause] — Alness, it was Alness, it was a Flying Boat Station which was further down, down Loch Ryan. And [pause] that, we had, they closed down and they got refuellers there which were boats filled with petrol and they used to refuel the Sunderlands. And we had to take these, these refuelers down to Dumbarton. We used to go to tow them down. Tow one down on the side of it, you know, lash it to the side of it, go through the Caledonian Canal right up to Dumbarton and come back again. That was a fortnight’s trip that was. But then, then I was engaged in a rather, an effort which I never did find out what, if it was any good to them. They filled a Sunderland up. That was before they took the refuellers away. They fuelled this Sunderland up and took it out in to the centre of the Loch and opened the taps and cocks, let the petrol out and I sat there and shot a verey light picture at it and set it on fire. And then we had to put it out. It was, we, we got these pumps and a water jet on us. Oh, it was. AM: Why? GR: Practice. RS: Practice. What good it did I don’t know. What good it did, Lord knows. I don’t. AM: I bet that was exciting though. RS: It was. It was quite good. It was quite good. It was quite good. It’s, it was a bit dangerous and one time when they put the, they got the, put the boat out, our launch right up under the wing of the Sunderland. It could have blown up but it didn’t. But it wasn’t full up of petrol. Just enough to set it on fire and make a — because it was all around the water and everything. We used to spray, spray the water and get, put the fire out on the water. It was quite good. Quite interesting. AM: And this, has the war finished by this point? GR: Yes. RS: Oh yeah. Yeah. AM: So, yeah. RS: It had finished yeah. AM: So why are they doing all this if the war’s finished? RS: Well, I suppose, I suppose it was for, what can I say? Well, I suppose they were still Sunderland Flying Boats about. GR: Yeah. RS: Not where we was anymore because they took them all away after that. But they was down at Calshot and at Pembroke Dock and all around there. I mean, if they had a crash and that the things we did could have been useful for them. AM: Right. So it was — RS: But whether it was I don’t know. AM: It was to learn. RS: Yeah. GR: Yeah. AM: Yeah. How long were you up there for then? RS: I came out in 1947. AM: So two years. RS: Yeah. Yeah. AM: After the war finished. RS: Yeah. Yeah. It was quite good. I quite enjoyed it. AM: And were you up there for the whole two years? RS: Yeah. Come home. I was demobbed from there. AM: Right. RS: Invergordon. Went down to, overnight train down to [pause] oh near Liverpool. What was it? Padgate. And got demobbed from there. GR: Yeah. AM: Right. So what was demob? What was that like? RS: Demob. AM: What did you get? RS: Well, a bit of a farce. What did I get? I got a suit. Which wasn’t, not really my style. And a shirt and a tie, I think it. And a pair of shoes. But it, you know, I think, I think I wore them for a little was while but then they went in the bin. Yeah. AM: And what, what did you do after? Once you’d been demobbed? RS: Once I’d been demobbed. Well, what did I do? Oh, I went to work at Brown and Greaves. I went in the offices in the purchase department at Brown and Greaves. AM: What was that? RS: Well, they used to make laundry machinery. AM: Right. RS: They used to make laundry presses and things, they used to make. AM: So, I know that later on you became a chiropodist. RS: Oh yes. AM: How did all that happen? RS: Well, I thought I wanted to do something else so I went to, you know decided I’d try something else so I went to one of these schools to learn to do it. AM: Why chiropody though? RS: Well, I don’t know really. I think it was because my late wife had a verruca and she went to this, she went to this chiropodist in Wellington Street in Luton and, you know I went with her and it looked an easy sort of job. And it was, what I thought, it was money for old rope. And so I applied to be one. AM: So how long was the training for it? RS: Oh, how long? About three or four months. AM: Oh, only three or four months. Oh right, I thought it would be several — RS: Maybe a bit longer than that at that time. AM: Yeah. RS: It’s two years or three years now because they turn to other things as well now. AM: That’s, I thought that’s what I thought you were going to say. RS: Yeah. AM: So that’s it then. You did chiropody. RS: Yeah. AM: Right through. RS: I did part one and part two of the course and that was it. AM: Yeah. RS: No. Part. It was a little bit longer than that. I think probably all together it was with a part one and two probably it was six or seven months. AM: Yeah. When you talked about your late wife. What, what year did you get married? RS: 1947. AM: So after. After — RS: Yeah. AM: After demob. RS: Yeah. No. Just before demob. AM: Just before demob. RS: What was I going to say? Yeah. She died. It was you who took the, I showed you a picture didn’t I? GR: You did, yeah. RS: And do you know I’ve lost them pictures and I can’t find them. I’ve got one on the computer. And I can’t find them. GR: Of? RS: Of me standing on her father’s houseboat. GR: Right. AM: Right. RS: With her and her young sister. AM: Yeah. RS: You took, you took them off to snap didn’t you? GR: Yeah. And there was the crew. I always remember the crew photo. RS: Yeah. GR: With you and Maurice in. RS: Yeah. I’ve still got them. RS: Yeah. AM: You’ll find them. RS: Yeah. AM: And I know you went, you used to go to the 158 reunions at Lissett. RS: Oh yeah. We used to go to that. AM: Yeah. RS: Yeah. AM: Every year. RS: Well yeah. AM: Meet old friends. RS: Until quite recently. Met my, it was about 1964 time. Yeah. We used to go there. Oh year after year. Used to stay in the Ransdale in Bridlington. We used to go up for a week. We used to. We used to have a week. Take a week off. Go up there for a week. AM: Have you seen the Memorial? You know that, that — GR: The 158 Memorial. AM: The 158 Memorial. GR: Yeah. RS: Oh yeah. In the church. In the church yard. The cemetery. AM: It’s near the, it’s, there’s another one that’s the men. A crew and it’s at the side of a field that’s got all the windmills in it. RS: Yeah. I’ve seen that. AM: You’ve seen that. RS: Yeah. AM: Yeah. Yeah. A good place to finish. [recording paused] RS: But at Bomber, at one of those Bomber Command signings a bloke named Ehrhardt or something. GR: Rolf. RS: Rolf Ehrhardt. GR: Ebhart. AM: Ebhart. RS: Ebhart. Yeah. He was a German night fighter pilot. GR: That’s right. RS: On 110s and he said to me, ‘I might have met you.’ I said, ‘I’m bloody glad you didn’t.’ GR: That’s right. Well, I think we come and picked — me and Mick Cooper. RS: That’s right. We went to a do, didn’t we? GR: Yeah. And we picked you up. RS: Yeah. GR: And that’s it. You got talking to Rolf. RS: Yeah. And he sent me a, he sent me a lovely picture of himself as a lieutenant in his uniform. GR: Yes. RS: And a picture of his aircraft. GR: Because funny enough when I looked up your, in my little directory I’ve got. RS: Yeah. GR: Obviously I keep all the details. Addresses. And in brackets I’ve put, “Either friend or in contact with Rolf Ebhart,” under your name so I remembered. RS: Well, he died didn’t he? He was a dentist. GR: That’s right. Yeah. RS: He died. GR: Yeah. RS: Oh, we used to correspond quite a lot. GR: Yeah, see. Yeah. RS: And he was going to come over and then all at once. GR: Yeah. AM: Gone. RS: And now — AM: And that’s it. RS: I’m in touch with another one now. AM: Can I, can I just ask then. RS: Yeah. AM: So, how does it, after all these years and you’re talking to the Luftwaffe guys. RS: Yeah. AM: What’s that like — RS: Well, they’re no different to us. In fact, I have a lot of time for the German air force. A hell of a lot of time for them because towards the end of the war Adolf wanted to, they put a lot of these, now wait a minute, towards the end of the war Adolf wanted to shoot all the British airmen didn’t he? GR: Yes. RS: And the Gestapo was going to do it or the SS was going to do it and the German Air Force said no. They’re not going to. The German air force took them all into their bases. GR: Yeah. Because apart from Stalag Luft III which was The Great Escape. RS: Yeah. GR: The Luftwaffe was still in control of all the — RS: Air force. GR: RAF. RS: Prisoners. GR: Prison camps. Yeah. RS: Oh yeah. That was, I’ve got a lot of time for the German Air Force. GR: Yeah. Because you met them at that first do at the Aces High when the Germans came across. RS: That’s right. GR: There was you. I can’t think who the others were but there were about, there were two or three Germans. Two Germans. Yeah. RS: And the Germans have never shot, shot you know as they’ve come down in parachutes. GR: German civilians during 1944. [recording paused] RS: My log got, I cut my finger, I had a big scar in my finger and it’s only just recently gone. On my little finger where I caught it on a jagged metal. And there was my, my log sheet and the folder it all got a lot of blood on it but I’ll tell you who’s got that. That’s gone to the air museum at [pause] oh where do you call it? AM: Elvington. RS: Elvington. GR: Elvington. RS: Yeah. GR: Yes. The Halifax Museum. Yeah. RS: Yeah. [recording paused] RS: Oh, he did give me a fright. He did. I really did. And he said, he said to me, ‘You can take this dog and walk it for me.’ And I had to take it on a lead and walk it around. Of course, I was, I was, you know, what can I say? They thought I was an idiot walking this bloody dog. That was — AM: This was around the base you’re talking about here. RS: Yeah. Around the base. Yeah. GR: Yeah. AM: So, just tell me again what happened on the plane? He was, he’s the group captain and he’s piloting it. RS: Oh that was with an air test. That was an air test that was. AM: Oh right. GR: Yeah. RS: That was an air test. What it was, the, the engine went, went wrong. It started spluttering so he decided, I said to him, ‘You want to feather it. Feather the propellers.’ GR: Yeah. RS: You know what I mean? GR: I do. Yeah. RS: The propellers going like that they turn them into wind so the wind blew and it stopped the engine. He pushed the bloody button and instead of pushing it and letting it go he pushed it and held it down and of course it feathered and unfeathered, unfeathered and feathered, and all the oil went out the system. And of course it just flopped round and milled round. Ruined it. AM: So what happened? RS: Well, nothing happened because it was him. If that had happened to me I would have been, I would have been in the cart wouldn’t I? For ruining an engine. I’d have been put on a charge. AM: And what was he? He was the group captain. RS: He was the group captain. AM: When I say what happened I mean how did you get back down? RS: Well, we got another three. AM: Oh right. So it was only one engine that he — right. I thought you meant all four. RS: No. No. AM: Did you, did you only ever fly in a Halifax? The Halifax. You never set foot in a Lancaster at any point. RS: Yes. I did. I had a flight. It was either a Lancaster or a Lincoln. It was at Cranfield. I went to Cranfield with some air cadets once in Luton. From Luton. And I had a flight in either a Lancaster or, it was either a Lancaster or a Lincoln. I don’t know. AM: So which did you prefer? That or the Halifax? RS: Oh the Halifax. AM: Why? RS: There was more room in a Halifax to move about. With the Lancasters you had to crouch down and get through the spar, the main spar and all that. With a Halifax you just step over it. That’s why, that’s why I wanted a Halifax. Couldn’t get on with it. AM: Yeah. RS: Couldn’t get on with a Lancaster. Oh, I’ll tell you another thing. Group Captain Sawyer took me up in his Tiger Moth. GR: Oh right. RS: In Lissett. I was frightened to death. I was. Because he would perform, you know. Show off. He was quite a good bloke actually. He used to, he was, what can I say? Any of the aircrew blokes he, he always used to — sergeant, no matter what you was. GR: He’d take you up and — RS: Yeah. Yeah. GR: He just wanted to show you how good a pilot he was. RS: Yeah. Yeah, he did. GR: Looping the loop and things like that. RS: Yeah. Yeah. Well, our Wing Commander Dobson was alright as well. I can’t think, I can’t think who it was, I had a motorbike at the time and that was when there was a, there was a purge on for people using aircraft petrol in their motorbikes. It was a different colour. And when that purge had finished I had to go in to the adjutant’s office. The station adj, not the, not the aircrew adj, the station adj, and he got a load of petrol in there in bottles and he said, ‘Can you use that?’ And I said, ‘Yes.’ He gave me all these bottles of petrol. It was all aircraft petrol so I used all that. Oh, it was, it was quite — GR: Yeah. RS: It was. The station adj and the aircrew adj was, well I don’t know. [unclear] him. The station adj, the station commander, the wing commander. They was all ever so good to you. They used to, well, talk to you. GR: Good. RS: And they weren’t like the army people — you mustn’t talk to the lower ranks, you know. They used to talk to you. AM: Did you go out in to Bridlington? Did you have nights out? RS: Oh Christ yes. I certainly did. Had lots of nights out and plenty of beer. AM: And? RS: Well, yeah, I had a few girlfriends but not a lot. You know, I used to go with a WAAF at one time. No, I didn’t, I didn’t have a lot of girls in Bridlington really. AM: But you drank a lot. RS: I used to have a few drinks. AM: How did you get there from Lissett? On your motorbike? RS: I used to go on the motorbike. Yeah. Or else you could go on a bus. The bus used to stop just outside the camp. I’ve been, I’ve been out there wanting to get a bus and Americans come along in a jeep and picked us up. AM: Where were they based then? RS: I don’t know. AM: No. RS: I don’t know. Oh, that, that was that was another story that was. The [pause] one night the weather was ever so bad down this, down this area and we had a load of American Air Force people. I think they was Liberators. I think that came up to, and we had, you know quite a few of them land at our aerodrome. They was there for about two days. And when they went, one, when they went to take off one, I don’t know what happened, it was a, I think his undercart collapsed or something. It didn’t crash but they couldn’t take off. They had to fetch it on a wagon and when they took, they’d got the Norden bombsight in it. And they took this Norden bombsight out and they, as the crew stood around they drew their pistols so as you couldn’t go around and get near it. Bloody idiot. That wasn’t, ours was a better bombsight than what theirs was. Yeah, I remember that. Because the people that came to us was based at Cheddington. Down here. GR: Yeah. RS: Yeah. Yeah, they all stood around this Norden bombsight with their pistols. GR: Protecting it like the Wild West. RS: Yeah. It was a load of rubbish anyway when you compared it with ours. Yeah. Right. Well that’s it. GR: Right. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Rex Statham Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Gary Rushbrooke Annie Moody Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-06-27 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AStathamR160627 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Pending revision of OH transcription Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:52:48 audio recording Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Description An account of the resource Rex Statham was born in Luton. His father died in a motorbike accident when he was very young. Although Rex had been very keen to join the Navy, he volunteered for the RAF as a flight mechanic. When he realised that many trained mechanics were being posted overseas he decided to re-muster as a flight engineer. He flew operations with 158 Squadron from RAF Lissett. On one occasion a corkscrewing Lancaster hit their aircraft and, although it was badly damaged, the crew managed to return and crash land at RAF Woodbridge. Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. France Great Britain England--Suffolk England--Yorkshire France--Ferme d'Urville Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1943 1944-06-05 1944-06-06 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Maureen Clarke 10 Squadron 158 Squadron air sea rescue aircrew bombing bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944) crash demobilisation fear flight engineer flight mechanic fuelling ground crew ground personnel Halifax mid-air collision Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944) RAF Alness RAF Lissett RAF Melbourne RAF Woodbridge Scarecrow Sunderland training V-1 V-2 V-weapon https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1122/19948/BSharrockRSharockRv2.pdf 1f7f1c8901c36dd903c87e4757a4c783 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Sharrock, Bob Robert Sharrock R Sharrock Description An account of the resource Six items. An oral history interview with Flight Sergeant Bob Sharrock (1924 - 2019, 2210141 Royal Air Force), his log book, a photograph and documents. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 428 Squadron. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Sharrock and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-03-19 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Sharrock, R Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document Memories and Reminiscences of Bob Sharrock I was born in 1925 at a small village called Digmoor in Upholland near Wigan. My father, Joshua, known as Jos, was a coal miner working at a coal mine in Bickerstaffe. Mother, Alice worked hard looking after the house and the children. I had an older brother called Eric and a younger brother called William or Billy who died when only three years old. I went to school at the age of five. We lived in a small terraced cottage in Spencers Lane, which had two bedrooms, a parlour (front room), a living kitchen and a back kitchen. It had a back yard in which Daddy had a wooden hut in which he carried out his hobby of fretwork and other woodwork. The living kitchen had a coal-fired range, which had an oven on one side and water heater on the other. Alongside the fireplace was a brick built boiler for washing clothes. The back kitchen had a slopstone and a cold water tap. All hot water came from a kettle, which was permanently on the fire or from the wash boiler, which was only used on washdays. Daddy would come home from work covered in coal dust and would wash all over in a galvanised bath in front of the fire or, if the weather was warm, in the backyard. Sundays were spent going to chapel and Sunday school. We had no transport and Daddy went to work on his bike having to go over a fairly large area called the Moss. He fitted a seat on the crossbar of his bike and would take me for rides on it. Times became hard when the Bickerstaffe pit closed and father was out of work. He and some other miners went to work in Kent but the conditions were so difficult that they came back to Lancashire. In 1935 he got a job at Cronton colliery and the family moved to Whiston, renting an end terrace house in Brook Street. I went to a primary school in Prescot, in the final year class. At the age of 11 I went to Whiston Central School until Easter 1939 1 [page break] when I left school at the age of 14. I then started work as an errand boy at the Rainhill branch of the Whiston Co-op Society. I earned 11 shillings per week and gave my mother 10 of these and had one shilling as spending money. I could get to a cinema show for 9 pence. War broke out on the 3rd Sept 1939, and we were then living in a small semi-detached house 121 Dragon Lane. Whiston, from there, over ensuing months, we could see the effects of air raids on Liverpool, about 9 miles away. A few stray bombs fell on Rainhill but did no significant damage. Some communal air raid shelters were built in the streets but as they were brick built and had concrete roofs it was doubtful if they would have been very effective. We were issued with an Anderson shelter, which Dad installed, in our back garden. He dug a pit about 3 feet deep, installed the corrugated shelter in it and covered it with the displaced earth. We only spent time in it when the air raid sirens went off. It was cold, damp and cramped. Men were getting called up to the forces and as a result I changed to milk delivering. This meant being up at 5-30 a.m. 7 days a week. Loading a handcart with half a ton of milk bottles and pulling it around Rainhill. It was hard work but I think it did me some good physically. Eventually I was equipped with a pony and milk float, which made the job easier. One day I met an old school acquaintance who was working for the local Gas Company. He told me that they were short-handed and it may be worthwhile making enquiries about a job. I followed this up and called at the office. The Manager interviewed me, asking a few questions on maths and general knowledge and then asked if I would like to start as a laboratory assistant. I accepted willingly and was soon involved in doing routine lab tests on calorific value, flue gas analysis, retort temperatures and other similar jobs. I started night school classes on maths, physics and chemistry, which lasted for two years until it was time to join the armed forces. With a war going on these early teenage years didn't give much 2 [page break] opportunity for normal teenage activities. In addition to my three nights a week at nightschool time was taken up by joining, with my friends, the Air Training Corps and the Police Auxiliary Messenger Service and it was the A.T.C. that stimulated my interested in flying. 3 [page break] The A.T.C. took up one night per week when we did aircraft recognition, elementary navigation and drill. There were two occasions when we went on a week's camp, once to Blackpool airport and once to Crosby on Eden. One day at Crosby I was hanging around aircraft that were being serviced when a pilot told me that he was taking a Beaufighter on a test flight and did I want to join him. I sat in the observer's seat and we flew over the Lake District, I was thrilled. When it came the time for registering for the armed forces. I made it clear that I wanted to join the RAF as a flier. I was eventually called for interview at the Aircrew Selection Board at Padgate, Burtonwood, near Warrington. I was asked what job did I want to do in aircrew and I said PNB or Flight Engineer. PNB stood for Pilot, Navigator, Bomb Aimer. They all started their training together, the latter part of this in Canada or Rhodesia. As they went through their training selection was made. The best continued as Pilots, the next Navigators and the rest Bomb aimers. When I mentioned Flight Engineer there was little further discussion. I was told I could train for this job. Whether it was because of my vaguely engineering background or because they were desperately short I don't know. I joined the Air Force in June 1943, aged 18, and reported to the Lord's Cricket Ground in London. We were billeted in blocks of flats nearby. Here we were issued with uniform, given numerous inoculation jabs, initiated into drill exercises and introduced to canteen food. Not a bit like home cooking. About 2 weeks later we were posted to Torquay for Initial Training. Here we endured physical training, some theoretical training into navigation, drill, Morse Code, even skeet shooting on Daddy Hole Plain. When we moved from one site to another it was either running or at a marching pace faster than the army used. This lasted for about six weeks and we were fortunate to have good hot weather Most of the time it was very enjoyable. 4 [page break] The next posting was to St Athan in South Wales. Here we started our technical training. Most of us were allocated the Halifax bomber, others the Stirling, the Lancaster and a few to Sunderland flying boats. I was disappointed not to be one of the latter. All these were four engined aircraft and it was only these that had a Flight Engineer. Most of the time was spent in lecture groups and my notebooks give an idea of the type of information we were given. We also had drill, P.T. swimming and other recreational activities It was about this time that, when on leave, I went to a dance at the Parish Rooms at Prescot and met Dorothy Marsden. The following March (1944) I was posted to 1664 Heavy Conversion Unit at Dishforth. This was where we met up with aircrews that had trained on two-engined aircraft and were moving on to heavy bombers. In this case they were Halifax bombers. We had further practical training and were attached to a crew. They were all Canadian with a pilot by the name of Willard MacKeracher. The unit was in 6 Group, operated by the Royal Canadian Air Force, which occupied the area of North Yorkshire. We did six exercises of Circuits and Landings. These were a series of take off, fly round the airfield and land. They were mainly to familiarise the pilot and engineer with handling the aircraft. This took about 10 hours. A further hour was spent doing three engined landings. Three further trips were made to give the Gunners and the Bomb Aimer some practice but it was on this third trip that we crashed on landing. It was apparent and subsequently reported that we had suffered an engine failure which slewed us over to miss the runway. It was a miracle that not one of the crew was killed. All I remember is being knocked about and then opening my eyes to see that I was a few yards in front of the nose of the aircraft.. [sic] The first person to reach me was an Italian prisoner of war who helped me to get out my parachute harness. Help soon arrived and four of us were taken by ambulance to Northallerton hospital. 5 [page break] Examination showed that I had a compressed fracture of the vertebrae in the lumbar region. A plaster of Paris jacket was applied which extended from the groin to the neck. I had a few days in bed while the jacket hardened and dried and then I was able to walk about fairly normally. The only difficulty was that I could not bend down. I was then given a couple of week's leave, which I spent at home. I was then posted to a convalescent home in Hoylake on the Wirral. This was called The Leas and was previously a girl's school. It was provided to recuperate injured aircrew and there were a number of chaps wearing plaster jackets similar to mine. We were made to keep quite active and spent most of the time doing exercises, playing games such as softball, (an easy version of baseball), tug'o war, football, cycling, etc. I was there for just short of three months. I was fortunate in that in weekends off it was quite easy to get home. Whilst I was there the Normandy invasions took place. In August 44 I was posted back to Dishforth and joined another crew. The skipper was R. Anderson. We knew him as Andy. Over a period of about four weeks we did 98 hours of flying time in Halifax Bombers. Then we were told that future flying would be in Lancasters so, after a few lectures and 10 hours flying time in three days we were considered to be fully trained. The next posting was in October to 428 Squadron based at Middleton St George, which was where we were to do our operational flying. In the 6 months that we were operational I did 28 ops and was “screened” on the 17th April 45, some three weeks before VE Day. My flying logbook lists every flight that I made, including training flights and operational trips. The operational flights were mainly at nighttime, bombing German cities. We were fortunate to evade being attacked by night fighters and being hit by flak. Only on one occasion did I find, on 6 [page break] returning, a piece of shrapnel embedded in the fuselage. With the war in Europe ending in May 45 and operational flying finished it was apparent that the authorities had to find something for aircrew to do before demob and I was posted, along with other Flight Engineers, To Credenhill, near Hereford and put on a Flight Mechanic’s course. After that I was posted to Kinloss where we spent time inhibiting engines on bombers in case they were needed again. Whilst I was there the manager of Prescot Gas Company applied for my release from the R A F and I was demobbed on the 1st Feb 46 on a “B”class release. I had served 2years 8months. Some time later I learned that the Institute of Gas Engineers had arranged some courses for employees who had their technical education interrupted by war service and I made application. I went to Aston Technical College for 6 months to get my Ordinary Grade Certificate in Gas Engineering (Supply), then to Liverpool Gas Company for 6 months practical training followed by a further 6 months at Birmingham Central Technical College to get my Higher Grade Certificate. On 19th July 1947 Dorothy and I were married. Soon after finishing the course and going back to Prescott Gas I got an invitation to apply to Liverpool Gas Co. for a job in their Industrial Sales Department. This I did and started with the company later in 48. The job involved visiting manufacturing firms and getting them to use gas for their heating processes. These included space heating, water heating and various manufacturing processes such as furnaces, tank heating etc. From getting married we lived in shared accommodation in various places, usually the homes of widows and consisted of a bedroom, a ground room and shared kitchen and bathroom. Whilst working at Liverpool we bought a small semi in Cable Road, Whiston. This cost 7 [page break] £900 and we lived there for about a year until we moved to Burnley. The Gas Industry at that time was formed from towns having a gasworks run either as private companies or mainly as Departments of local councils. In 1951 the Industry was nationalised and these undertakings, apart from bigger towns like Manchester and Liverpool, were formed into small groups. This gave the opportunity to create special departments specialising in a particular activity. One of these was sale of gas to Industrial and Commercial premises. One of the Groups was known as the Burnley / Colne Group and I got the job of Industrial Engineer, starting in June 51. This also coincided with the arrival of Robert, our firstborn. We bought a house in Sycamore Avenue, Burnley. Finances were tight but we managed. It was here, in 1953, that John was born. My job involved selling gas to Industrial and Commercial customers and I had to get around in a small van but after a while I got my first car, a Ford Prefect. In 1954 The North West Gas Board reorganized and larger Groups were formed. One of these was The Northern Group which took in Lancaster, Morecambe, Kendal, Barrow-in Furness and other smaller undertakings in the Lake District and as far away as Millom. Harry Robinson, the Manager of the Burnley/Colne Group was made Manager of the Northern group and I got the job of Industrial Gas Sales Engineer. Among the customers that I had dealings with were Jas. Williamsons and Storey Bros. of Lancaster, K Shoes of Kendal, Vickers Armstrong, Barrow Steel, Barrow Iron works and Millom Iron works. The Gas Board bought a house, which I rented, in Beaufort Road, Morecambe and I got a decent increase in pay. Life was comfortable. Whilst living in Morecambe Jeremy and David arrived and I got involved in various activities including the Masons, Round Table and Scouts. Also whilst there I bought a second hand dinghy, a GP 14, called 8 [page break] William Younger with the sail number 347. I joined the Morecambe and Heysham Yacht Club and took part in races with Dorothy as crew. This lasted some time and the boys also took part. John and I sailed together at the Southport 24hr race as part of the MHYC team a couple of times, one year using our boat as the team boat. One year we took part in the Race Across the Bay to Gibraltar (the one near Jenny Brown's Point) and managed to come last as our launching trolley had broken the previous day so we were loaded down with the canvas cover and all sorts of other heavy gear. John was the keenest sailor and eventually he decided I was too slow to act as his crew so he got various girls to crew for him, including Dorothy's niece, Patricia. His main crew was Rosemary Cole with whom he won many trophies. We did do some work on the boat, when we first got it it had a jib and mainsail in white cotton, this was changed for red terylene sails including a genoa. I joined the RNLI as crew on the inshore lifeboat and acted as survivor on more than one occasion to give the holidaymakers a thrill. We spent several holiday [sic] at Fell Foot Park a National Trust site on Lake Windermere. We would travel towing the boat with all the camping gear in it and two canoes perched on top of it. We had a wonderful French six berth frame tent which seemed the size of a small marquee. I also had a go at gliding with a club near Tebay. This didn't last very long though. Dorothy, Robert and John used to hang around whilst I was doing circuits. I tried all sorts of activities golf, various musical instruments and even started to build a hovercraft, up to the point where I needed an engine. The church of the Ascension in Torrisholme had a well-organised rambling club. Every month they had a day in the Lake District, travelling by coach, and splitting into three groups. Hard, Medium and Easy. Dorothy and I enjoyed these outings. I was very keen on walking and kitted myself up with light weight camping gear and did a few long distance walks. 9 [page break] After living in the house in Morecambe for 12 years I realised that to be financially secure we ought to own our own property so, in 1963, we bought a house in Bolton-le-Sands. This was an old stone built semi-detached in St. Michael's Lane named Thistlebrake. I spent about 6 months getting it into reasonable shape for living in. I rewired the electrics, and with help installed central heating and got a contractor to install a water closet and drains to a soakaway in the rather big garden. Each bedroom had a sink and there was an upstairs bathroom and a downstairs toilet in the utility room. For a few years we retained the copper under which you could light a fire to do the washing. We put in a solid fuel rayburn which heated the water and did the cooking and it was wonderful producing the most wonderful food, Dorothy helped of course. Robert went to Lancaster Road Primary School as did John. For John's final year we were living in Bolton-le-sands so he was taken there every day. Jeremy and David both went to Bolton-le-sands Primary School. Unusually John and David went to Lancaster Royal Grammar School whilst Robert and Jeremy went to Morecambe Grammar, no-one can remember why this was the case. It would be about 1972 that further reorganisation took place and the Northern Group expanded to take in the Blackpool and Preston areas. The headquarters was based at Blackpool and I was put in charge of a sales department dealing with Industrial and Commercial customers. I was given the title of Technical Sales Manager. I was given the opportunity to be provided with finance for removal expenses but to avoid disruption of the education of the boys I decided to stay ay Bolton-le-Sands and commute. This meant doing about 50 miles a day in the car. It was during this period that Robert, John and Jeremy left to go to university. It would be about 1975 that Dorothy got a job at Preston Hospital as a phlebotomist so we were both commuting, in two cars. We needed to move nearer to our jobs but it would have upset David's way of life so 10 [page break] we continued to live there until he went to university. We moved to Garstang in 1982. At some time in the eighties some of my colleagues invited me to join them on a sailing holiday on a thirty-five foot sailing yacht owned by the British Gas Sailing Association. We set sail from a port on the south coast in the evening for an overnight passage to Cherbourg. The weather deteriorated and progressed into a storm. We sailed under heavily reefed sails, secured ourselves with harnesses and tielines and suffered seasickness. We eventually reached France, about a hundred miles east of Cherbourg, and found a sheltered port where we sorted ourselves out. The rest of the week was in good weather and we visited the Channel Islands. There were many more trips. Later we sailed around the Western Isles of Scotland. I was enthusiastic and attended evening classes at the Fleetwood Nautical College to learn navigation. These sailing trips went on until the Sailing Association folded on privatisation of the industry. In 1986 the Gas Industry was privatised and I was made redundant. I got redundancy pay and could also be paid my pension. Dorothy continued to work for a couple of years. I was not very involved in politics but had voted for the Liberal party. I got to know a few people in Garstang and learned that there was a particularly active Liberal group so I went to their meetings and in 1987 put my name forward for election in the town and borough elections. Five of us gained seats in the Wyre Borough Council and I was elected to Garstang Town Council. The following year, 1988 I was made Mayor of Garstang. Elections were held every four years and I was re-elected on the next two. In the last year, 1998/99, I was Mayor of the Borough of Wyre and with Dorothy, who was Mayoress, had a wonderful time, being entertained by many organisations and making many friends. May 99 saw the end of my time in local politics and, at the age of 74, just as well. 11 [page break] In June of that year Dorothy and I celebrated by taking a lovely holiday doing an Alaskan Cruise. Some three months later I was diagnosed with cancer of the stomach and had a gastrechtomy [sic] at Chorley Hospital. Recovery from this was slow but with great care from my dear wife I made gradual progress. In August 2005 Dorothy died of cancer of the pancreas. The commemoratory address given at her funeral by her sons gives a better record of her life than I can give “Dorothy did many things throughout her life and looking back it seems that nearly all of them carried a sense of public or private duty and that in doing them she gave real pleasure to those around her. She was, perhaps above all, a mother and a wife. She somehow found time even during the busiest years, when she was raising four sons, to channel her energies into other activities. But she never lost sight of a belief that her primary responsibility was to her family. I suppose that everybody believes that they have the world's best mum: and I am no different. Dorothy was born eighty years ago in February 1925, not far from here, in Longridge. She trained as a confectioner – which probably accounts for the fantastic scones which we will all now miss so badly – but with the outbreak of the war she moved into war work. She used to tell us great stories about those times, some of them involving a dashing Lancaster Bomber flight engineer called Bob. She met this young man at a dance in the Parish hall in Prescot while he was on leave from the RAF. They married shortly after the end of the war and, with Dad making his way in his new career as a gas engineer, there began a peripatetic 12 [page break] period during which they lived in Birmingham, Whiston, Burnley, Morecambe and Bolton-le-Sands. Dorothy gave birth to four sons, the first in 1951 and the last in 1962. It's true to say – because she did and why not, she was proud of the fact – that she taught each of us to read and write BEFORE we started primary school. I think that says it all about her determination to give her children the very best start in life, in which she succeeded. Thanks mum. She gave us all a well-rounded view of life and the world and she did it with a real enthusiasm, which was truly infectious. We were all inveterate hillwalkers, often even before we had taken our first steps! Mum must have walked every fell in the Lake District ... and run back down every one of them as well. She was still walking her beloved mountains well into her seventies – and giving her fours [sic] sons, six grandchildren and three great grandchildren a run for their money. But she was also active in other areas, dinghy sailing and scouts among them as well as working as a volunteer with the Citizens Advice Bureau in Lancaster. As her boys grew up and learned to fend for themselves, Dorothy decided she wanted to resume her working career. She trained as a phlebotomist and worked in hospitals in Lancaster, Morecambe and Preston. I think that she got a lot of satisfaction out of this valuable service – especially when she was mistaken in the hospital wards and corridors for a doctor because of her white coat! In the mid-70s Bob and Dorothy moved to Garstang, nearer to Dad's job in Blackpool, and her job in Preston, and a new era began in their lives, now that their sons had all left home for university. David refused to move from Bolton-le-Sands until he went to University so the move to Garstang was delayed. I suppose you might call this their “Golden Age”, because they have had such a wonderful time living here and making such good friends. 13 [page break] She supported Dad in his political and civic roles, becoming Mayoress for Garstang and Wyre Borough Council. She also threw herself into a host of activities, including support for the Leonard Cheshire Home and the St John's Hospice and Meals on Wheels with Cabus WI. Dorothy was active in the bowling club, she swam once a week and she continued to walk. She was fit and active right up until the end, her enthusiasm for life undimmed. As we remember her this morning, the word, which most aptly comes to mind, is “selflessness”, because she always put the needs of others above and before her own needs. She was the least selfish person I know, she was always ready to help in any way that she could. She was – and is – our mum, Dorothy,” That gives a summarised account of our lives, which, on the whole was a happy one. Good fortune, in many respects, came our way. My career started modestly as a youngster from an elementary education but a series of events led to me having a well-paid job and a comfortable retirement. Family life was pleasant, bringing up four boys who have done well in their careers and kept in close contact with us. Another part of my life was my association with Scouting. This started with Robert joining Cubs and me offering to assist with transporting the pack members to their various activities. The Scout Group was attached to Church of the Ascension at Torrisholme and I joined the Parent's Committee. About 1964 the Senior Scout Unit needed some help so I took the necessary training and became the Senior Scout Leader, my scouting career was as follows. March 65 Senior Scout Leader 16th Morecambe Oct 67 Assistant District Commissioner (Venture Scouts) 14 [page break] May 71 District Commissioner – Morecambe & Heysham District April 74 District Commissioner – Lonsdale District June 80 Assistant County Commissioner – West Lancashire In 1984 and then living in Garstang, I had retired from the Lonsdale District and was appointed Assistant County Commissioner (Personnel) for the West Lancashire County Scout Council. The County had two full time campsite wardens and I made arrangements for improvements to their conditions of employment including salaries and pensions. June 93 Assistant District Commissioner (Venture Scouts). I took an active part in training these teenage lads in various outdoor activities such as Rock Climbing, Hill Walking, Orienteering, Sailing and Canoeing, some of them gaining the Duke of Edinburgh Award. My scouting involvement was for about 28 years and I enjoyed it immensely. ROBERT SHARROCK C.Eng .. M.I.Gas E. D.O.B. 12 February 1925 Whiston Central School Left 1939 aged 14 years Started work as an errand boy Whiston Co-op Society. 1941 Started work at Prescott Gas Co. Jumior [sic] on general duties in the laboratory, works and distribution Dept June 1943 Joined R.A.F. Trained as Flight Engineer (Aircrew) complted [sic] one tour in Bomber Command. Attained rank of Flight Engineer then Flight Sargeant [sic] March 1944 Crashed in Halifax Bomber on training flight and ended up with a broken back Sept 1944 Resumed training Posted to 428 Squadron (Canadian) Ghost Squadron at Middleton St George. Flew 28 operational flights Feb 1946 Released from R.A.F. on a B Class Release. Returned to work at Prescot Gas Co. manager of gas works applied for Bob's release Jan 1947 Started intensive course in Gas Engineering at Aston in Birmingham Technical College sponsored by Institute of Gas Engineers Nov 1948 Joined Liverpool Gas Co. 15 [page break] June 1951 Appointed Senior Industrial Engineer – Burnley following Nationalisation June 1954 Appointed Group Industrial Gas Sales Engineer – NWGB North (Lancaster) Feb 1971 Appointed Technical Sales Manager, West Lancs (Blackpool) April 1986 Early Retirement due To impending privatisation of British Gas 42 years' service in Gas Industry FAMILY 16 [page break] Married to Dorothy 19th July 1947 Children – Robert Eden 16th June 1951 John James 18th May 1953 Jeremy Mason 1st June 1958 David William 19th Feb 1962 Stomach cancer Aug 1999 stomach removed Moved to Abbeyfield House 2011 d:\sharrock family\dad bob documents\memories and [inserted] 17 [/inserted] reminiscences\memories and reminiscences of bob sharrock v5 31-8-14.doc Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Memories and Reminiscences of Bob Sharrock Description An account of the resource Bob Sharrock's life story, from childhood until he joined the RAF. He recalls his training and postings to various RAF stations throughout his service. After the war he continued at RAF Credenhill then RAF Kinloss as a flight mechanic. He returned to his old job at the gas works and married Dorothy. They had four boys and he spent a lot of time dinghy sailing. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Bob Sharrock Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 17 typewritten sheets Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Memoir Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context BSharrockRSharockRv2 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Civilian Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Royal Canadian Air Force Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Wigan England--Warrington England--London England--Torquay England--Hoylake England--Hereford England--Liverpool England--Burnley England--Morecambe England--Bolton-le-Sands England--Garstang England--Yorkshire England--Cheshire England--Devon England--Herefordshire England--Lancashire England--Preston (Lancashire) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Roger Dunsford Maureen Clarke 1664 HCU 428 Squadron 6 Group aircrew Beaufighter crash flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew Halifax Heavy Conversion Unit Initial Training Wing Lancaster RAF Credenhill RAF Dishforth RAF Kinloss RAF Middleton St George RAF Padgate RAF St Athan RAF Torquay recruitment shelter training https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/512/8743/AFranklinJB160331.1.mp3 f6e3050fce261c63a251a84f549d2b34 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/512/8743/PFranklinJB1616.2.jpg 795421ad1dfce4657298441a0a2fd3a6 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Franklin, John Brown Jack Brown Franklin John B Franklin John Franklin J B Franklin Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Franklin, JB Description An account of the resource 15 items. An oral history interview with John "Jack" Brown Franklin (1921 - 2018 1484256 Royal Air Force)and fourteen photographs of people and aircraft. He served in the Liverpool Home Guard before enlisting in the Air Force. He served as ground crew with 109 Squadron between late 1942 and 1944 before being posted to Burma with 28 Squadron in 1945. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by XXX and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-03-31 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document BW: This is Brian Wright interviewing mechanic John Brown Franklin of 109 and 28 squadrons RAF at his home in Walton, Liverpool on Thursday 31st March 2016 and the time is 1.45. Also, with me is his nephew Neil Hayes and if you would like to start us off please Jack. You’ve asked me to call you Jack as - JBF: Yes that’s right. Yeah. BW: That’s how you’re referred to. JBF: Yeah. BW: Would you give us your service number and date of birth please? JBF: Yes. Ok. Service number is 1484256. Date of birth 28 6 1921. BW: And have you always lived in Liverpool? JBF: Yes. BW: And do you, you mentioned you had, I think, a brother. Do you have brothers and sisters or did you have brothers and sisters? JBF: I’ve got a brother and sister. My brother was world famous as a ballet dancer. BW: What was his name? JBF: Frederick Franklin. And if you want to get his history I believe it’s all on the – NH: All over the web. JBF: In the computer. And here’s Neil with his CBE presented by the queen to him at Buckingham palace. BW: Right. JBF: And unfortunately - BW: Wow. JBF: He died just a couple of years ago aged ninety eight. BW: And whereabouts in Liverpool were you living at the time? JBF: Oh at birth. Over a café on the corner of Wavertree Road and Durning Road. We were all three born over the café and my father ran it with his mother and it lasted ‘til about 1923 and then we went to live higher up Wavertree Road in Janet Street and then about ten years after that, it would be about 1933 we moved to Gordon Drive, Pilch Lane, Huyton and that’s where I married from and lived here. I’ve lived here since 1957. BW: Wow. JBF: We bought the house then with my wife Dorothea. BW: And so what was your home life like? Was it - JBF: Well it was great. We were, they were musical people. My mother was very musical and my sister and they were in to all sorts of shows like the Maid of the Mountains and The Chocolate Soldier and Rosemarie. That kind of show. They loved it. And when my brother decided he wanted to be on the stage they were over the moon simply because he wanted to be on stage and so - BW: And did he get a scholarship for his dancing or anything like that? JBF: Oh no what he did was he went with the Jackson Boys to, his first job was he joined the Jackson Boys, a troupe of people dancing and they finished up in Paris at the, I think it was the Casino de Paris and he was there ‘til the Germans, the war started in ‘39 and they were either threatening to overrun France or they had actually started but my mother lost touch and was worried stiff and then the next thing we heard about him was that he was in Holland with the company, the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo run by a fellow called Leonide Massine. He’s also a world famous performer if you care to go through the, and the next minute we heard he was in America so of course he was delighted that he’d got out of it ‘cause there was no way he would ever have made a servicemen of any kind. He was just, he was a piano player, played the piano, singing and dancing you know. One of the times he was playing the piano and Miss [Stangette?] whom you no doubt have never heard of, she used to sit on the piano and she was the toast of Paris and she used to come out in this café, Casino de Paris or whatever it was, a nightclub and do the singing while Fred played. My sister was also a pianist so we – BW: And were you musical yourself? JBF: Oh yes. I, I was the only one that didn’t get the lessons because the money ran out. My father had a stroke. My father was a veteran of the Boer war complete with medal. BW: And you’ve got his medal here. JBF: And - BW: Which has got to be a rare item in itself. JBF: Yes well its solid silver, unlike the tin ones we got from the last war. BW: Yeah. JBF: With bars and - BW: Yeah. JBF: And he was shot off his horse somewhere in South Africa and he said the worst thing about it was the two hundred mile trip in a cart, [bullock?] cart to get to the boat to come home. Well he came home and survived and they invalided him out of the army in 1900 and he was never called up for the ‘14 war. He was unfit for further service and that’s, and he had a stroke about, what, 1931 sometime in the early 30s. I never knew him as a man really. He was, like all Victorians he was here and you were over there, you know. That’s just how it was. He was a nice guy you know, it just - BW: Yeah. More of a father figure. JBF: A father figure. BW: A strict father figure in a sense. JBF: Exactly. Yeah. Mother did all the slogging, you know. Kept us all together. BW: And what was school like for you? JBF: Oh a bit disastrous because I just didn’t get on somehow or other. I just didn’t get on. I left at sixteen and a half and I was really contemplating. I thought well I’d better do something about it so I just started to do the school certificate rerun at night school and the war started. BW: And what subjects were you studying in your certificate at night school? JBF: I got credits in history, English, and geography and I failed in chemistry and math er French and chemistry. That was it. And as a matter of interest I had my French book stolen for the last nine months before the exam and so there was no way I was going to pass it anyway you know. I just. Anyway I got out of school. Got this job with paper merchants LS Dixon and Co Limited. Very old fashioned, very conservative Liverpool Company. BW: And what were you doing in the paper merchants? JBF: Clerking. Booking orders, arranging for the orders to get out to the warehouse, seeing that they were all packed up properly and delivered to whoever, you know. BW: And so presumably you had this job for about year eighteen months. JBF: That’s right. BW: Until war broke out. JBF: Well, the story about the war thing is sitting opposite us was a veteran of the war. He said, ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘It’ll be over by Christmas,’ you know. It was exactly the same as the pre-war people. It will be over by Christmas and ‘course it wasn’t and then it got around to Dunkirk you know when the three hundred and thirty three thousand were being picked up in France and Eric, sitting opposite me, Eric [McKim?] he said, ‘You know, Jack. We should do something about it really. I know we’re underage.’ We was, I was eighteen I think or something like that and we went to the police station in Derby Lane and signed on and then from Derby Lane I got the call to report to the abattoir in Prescot Road and I was given that. BW: And this is a card that says you’re joining the Local Defence Volunteers. JBF: That’s right, yes. BW: G division. JBF: Yeah BW: Dated 13th of June 1940. So this is right after the evacuation of Dunkirk. Right at the height of - JBF: Well it was Dunkirk that, Dunkirk was the end of May. BW: Yeah. JBF: 1940 and we finished up in this abattoir with that and we had instructions when the church bells landed er sounded you know we were told to destroy our identity you know, and so we joined the Home Guard and, or the LDV as it was. We had neither uniforms nor rifles or anything you know and we used to do marching about and guard and such like and the one terrifying moment in the, as an LDV was that the church bells had rung. A corporal came around, 2 o’clock in the morning, ‘Jack,’ he said, ‘It’s on,’ so we get up to the orphanage and we’re stood in two lines at the back of the orphanage facing Speke in front of trenches full of water that we’d dug, you know in the 1914 style. BW: Yeah. Zigzag. JBF: And everybody was mystified but we were all looking from Speke for the parachutists you know and we were there for a couple of hours and then suddenly, you know, we, it all vanished. The whole thing fell apart. There was nothing. Nobody landed. And we, we’d been given twenty four hours rations which was hard tack and corned beef. Well we ate those in about half an hour. Just sat around and ate it all. By 3 o’clock we’d eaten the day’s rations you know and that’s how the, it’s perfectly right, I’m Pike in the Dad’s Army because I was that age and everybody else who carefully avoided guard duties and all the nasty bits were bank managers or foremen and something else or assistant managers in bread shops or whatever it was, you know and Mr Mainwaring is a dead ringer for the CO you know. BW: Of your unit. JBF: Ex, in the, ex in, he was a bank manager you know and he got the atmosphere you know. It was typical and that went on for fifteen months until I was called up and then finally I got the call up papers and joined the RAF on the 15th of September 1941. BW: And did you see, during your time as an LDV volunteer did you see any raids over Liverpool because - JBF: Oh yes. BW: There were quite a few raids by the Luftwaffe on the - JBF: That’s a separate chapter. We were formed by the company which was in town, Cable Street, into parties of three and we did night duty on the premises during the blitz and the most graphic one of the blitz was we were playing table tennis as something to do while it was all going crash bang wallop ‘cause we were near the docks and they were really and then this hell of an explosion. It shook the place absolutely, we thought and we were in the cellar so we managed, we decided we’d better go around and see everything was intact. Nothing. So we went outside. Went up Thomas Street into South John Street and at the junction of North John Street and Lord Street was a huge pile of debris, masonry and out of it was sticking arms and legs and so we went up like this, you know the real - BW: Yeah. Sort of - JBF: John Wayne, sort, you know. BW: Covering your eyes. Yeah. JBF: And on the, on the traffic light was a sailor trying to knock out the lights with a brick so we get up there looking and thinking oh my God what are we going to see and they were all tailors dummies. There wasn’t a person in it. The shops around that area were tailors shops and the bomb had hit Church House, blown that to pieces and the blast had blown all these dummies out of the shop windows and somehow or other they all arrived together in the middle. So we got over that. That was the most graphic of the, and then the next one was during the May we had, I don’t know if you know about the blitz but Liverpool, before Hitler invaded Russia he blitzed Liverpool as a good start to stopping the shipping in the May. The May blitz it’s called and that week we had a floating land mine drift over the house and blew up on the Swanside estate. Blew all those houses up and the blast took the windows out of the back of our house and holes in the roof, hole in the roof and all the celings had holes in where the draft had came down but the most awful thing was the soot because we all had chimneys and everywhere was covered in soot you know so on the Sunday my mother and I we started clearing up and I said, ‘I’ve got to go to work,’ you know so I got the bike out and we started down for the, for the town and I got to [Clatton] Street and the place was covered in glass. I thought well this is the end of the bike if I ride so I picked the bike up, put it on my shoulder and walked down to Lewis’ which was just a hollow wreck. There was nothing visible at all. It had been on fire and they’d put it out and there was just and they ground that down to Boots on the corner, round the corner and I got as far as the bottom of Lord Street, Whitechapel and Paradise Street and there was a tape across so I got to there and the strange thing was where what we could see of Cable Street which was right at the back of Lord Street you could see daylight you know. I thought well that’s funny, it doesn’t look too good so I said to the man, ‘My job’s around the corner.’ He said, ‘No it isn’t,’ he said, ‘It’s finished. You can’t go around there.’ And two four storey buildings that was the office, the warehouse, the factory and the second warehouse were about this high. It had just burned. The whole thing had gone because it was a paper warehouse. Couldn’t be better, you know, once, and it was fire that, on that particular blitz. BW: Raised the building to about two foot high. JBF: It was just about two foot high and I was standing there dumb. I thought, ‘Well ok the house has gone up now the jobs gone up. What do we do now for an encore?’ Sort of thing. And I got a tap on the shoulder. I looked around and it was the manager Mr Lloyd. He said, ‘John,’ he said, ‘We’re all around at the Allied Paper.’ So I hot footed it around to the Allied Paper in Hood Street and the entire office collection was sitting there looking at each other you know. So they didn’t know what to, ‘cause there was not even a place to go to. The place had vanished. Literally. Four storey buildings just vanished and Mr Packer was the export manager, he said, ‘Well John, if you need something to do come with me and we’ll see what’s happened to the shipping.’ So I was delighted, so, ‘Certainly Mr Packer.’ So off we set down to the pier head and we went around people like James Dowie, Gracie Beasley the whole line, that kind of thing, JT Fletcher’s and made enquiries to find out what was missing and what wasn’t you know and we made a list of everything because he had cargo on boats you know. He used to do business with the West Indies and the unfortunate thing for him was that Mr Woodley who was about, there was no pension scheme in this particular company and Mr Woodley the export manager was about seventy three and he was still coming to work because there was no pension and he got knocked down and killed in the blackout so that was the end of the, of the export information so they just had to start from scratch you know ‘cause even Sid Woodley had disappeared, you know, and then there was, I can’t really remember because it was the in-between but we ended up in the banana rooms in Fitzpatrick’s in Queens Square. That’s where I left to join the air force. The Banana Rooms, of course there were no bananas coming in during the war and there were just these big spaces and they started the firm from that that the lucky thing was they had a government quota for paper and that didn’t alter despite all that had gone on so they started with the quota that they had and they stocked these Banana Rooms with paper and started to carry on the business and the other intriguing thing was the books had been in the cellar in Cable Street and they were in fireproof safes which was great except they were cooked. They weren’t burned. They were just cooked. So the senior members of the accounts department were transported every day to Mr Dixon’s house on the Wirral and they each had an egg, an egg slice you know and they would lift each page up and turn it over and find out how much ‘cause the books were handwritten. It was just antediluvian but it was part of the course. NH: The time. Yeah. JBF: Antediluvian, you know, everything was by hand. We wrote orders in books by hand. The books were sent to the forwarding man and he’d organise the stuff you know and finally I got my call up papers and Mr Cook said, ‘Ok,’ he says, ‘Well as things stand, Jack,’ he said, ‘Your job will be open when you come back,’ and that’s exactly how it was. The job was open when I came back five years later. BW: And during the time and this was all through 1940. The bombing raids and things. JBF: Up to September the 15th 1941. BW: Did you happen to see anything of the Battle of Britain? I know that was concentrated over the south east but there were raids and intercepts from squadrons up here. Did you see anything of that? JBF: In Liverpool during the lunch hour when we were out there was a couple of times when German aircraft were over and everybody was out looking at them you know and there was a bit of fighting as far as I can remember but I don’t think there was too much this end. BW: No. JBF: It was the blitz for Liverpool. That was the thing. BW: And were you on duty during the night time and sort of working during the day? JBF: Oh yes. BW: Did you alternate your civilian job with your LDV duties? JBF: The big plus factor was that after your night’s duty you went in to Brown’s, the café in Cable Street, and had a bacon and egg breakfast and then you went home you know from the day ‘cause there, there wasn’t really that much happening at that stage of the war. Everybody was non-plussed. Nobody knew whatever was happening. You know. It hadn’t settled down to anything. And - BW: And what drew you to join the RAF? Did you apply to join or JBF: Well – BW: Were you offered a choice of which service? JBF: When I went for the call up interview I said, ‘Well I’d like to join the RAF.’ They said, ‘What would you like to be?’ So I quickly said, ‘Oh I’d like to be a mechanic,’ you know. They said, ‘’Ok.’ Then the next minute I was sent to, what’s the local RAF place there? BW: Woodvale. NH: Woodvale. JBF: No. Not Woodvale. Closer. NH: Closer? JBF: Yeah. Where, where were the Yanks locally? NH: Oh Burton Wood. BW: Yeah. JBF: Burton Wood. It was in that area as far as I can remember and sat an exam. BW: There was a recruiting centre or an RAF station at Padgate. Does that, that was near Warrington. JBF: Well it might have been. BW: Sort of Burton Wood area. NH: Yeah. BW: Ok. JBF: I went in the Warrington area. BW: Yeah. JBF: And took, and sat an exam and I passed that and so I was down to be a mechanic. BW: And when you say mechanic were there different types of mechanic that you could apply to be? Did you have a choice in that or were you directed simply as - JBF: I’ve no idea. I didn’t even know what a mechanic was - BW: Right. JBF: I just said I’d like to be a mechanic because if I played with anything it was with Meccano before the war and I think I had some sort of mechanical ability you know and so I thought well I’m going to be an office for the rest of my life. I’d just like to do something different never realising I’d be doing it for the next five years but there you are. BW: Did, did the thought of being aircrew ever appeal to you at all? JBF: Yeah. I volunteered for aircrew and got halfway through the medical until the eyesight test and that was the end of that. BW: What would you have liked to have done as a member of aircrew? What do you - JBF: Well - BW: Think your preference would have been? JBF: In the talk I was at Wyton at the time and the flight engineers were in vogue at the time. I thought well with the basic knowledge I’ve already got I think I could have passed the rest of it to become a flight engineer so when they asked me at the medical lark I said, ‘Flight engineer.’ BW: Ok. And instead once, once they’d done the assessment and found your eyesight wasn’t up to scratch you were then posted to another base for - JBF: No. BW: Mechanical training. JBF: I just went back to being where I was in Wyton. BW: I see. So while you were still working as a mechanic you then volunteered for aircrew. JBF: That’s right. For aircrew yes. BW: They said you couldn’t be selected for aircrew and you returned to your trade. JBF: I went back to the trades and being a mechanic. Yeah. BW: And what squadron were you at there? JBF: At Wyton it was 109. BW: And you say this was a Pathfinder squadron. JBF: Yeah. This was a Pathfinder squadron, yeah. The sister squadron was 83 squadron. They were Lancasters. BW: And they were on the same base were they? JBF: Same base yeah. BW: And – JBF: We were there for about nine months at Wyton and it was at Wyton that the first Oboe raid by Mosquitoes took place which was my squadron and my aircraft was the first aircraft to do something with the Oboe. The pilot was Squadron Leader Bufton and the navigator was, I think it was a Flight Lieutenant Ifould, an Australian. BW: So this was Squadron Leader Buckton. Is that - JBF: Bufton. B U F yeah. BW: B U F T O N. JBF: They’re famous in the air force because he had a brother also in the air force and he had a son er another brother rather, a sergeant in the mechanical line. BW: And his navigator was a flight lieutenant. JBF: Ifould. I F O U L D. BW: And so servicing this particular aircraft do you remember anything specific about it? Possibly even the registration or the - JBF: Well it was - BW: Code. JBF: DK33, I think it’s four. The three three’s right but the fours and it was - BW: Ok. JBF: D-Donald. BW: D-Donald. JBF: Yeah it was D Donald. It was changed to L-Leather later on but it was D-Donald when it was flying when it flew to this, I found out later it was a power station in Holland right on the edge of the German border and that was the first time, I can confirm all this, these books, I’m in these books and pictures you know. This is Tim, you know, he just, ‘Look dad,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen this,’ so - BW: And did you know Squadron Leader Bufton and Flight Lieutenant Ifould very well? Did they stay with that aircraft for - JBF: Oh yeah they stayed for - BW: For a period? JBF: Quite some time. I mean Bufton became a group captain. I’m sure Ifould did because they were, they were dyed in the wool, I think, pre-war airmen if you know what I mean. They were really the real McCoy you know. This is how the air force won the Battle of Britain. With people like them really because they knew what they were doing. BW: And I’m assuming that they had already done a tour on bombers prior to becoming - JBF: They must. BW: A Pathfinder. JBF: I should say so. The squadron from Wyton came from Boscombe Down were all the experiments were done. BW: And what kind of guys were they. These, these two? JBF: Very nice. Very nice men. Excellent blokes. BW: Did you have a good rapport with them? JBF: All the time yes. BW: And so this remained your aircraft, D Donald for – JBF: If you want - BW: Some months. JBF: If you want a little anecdote with it being the very first raid with Oboe it was the very first Oboe raid for 109 Mosquitos and they decided that nothing should happen to the aircraft so we, they did the MFTs, they did the flying and then they carried the tractors, you know, hooked up the tractors and put the three of them in a hangar. This is, it’s dark at this stage and they’re busy doing and I’m on one wing and I’m bawling, ‘You’re too close. You’re too close,’ and the next minute we’d cracked the [?] on this wing. Pandemonium and, ‘Who’s,’ I said, ‘Look I’ve been bawling my head off.’ And the corporal who was doing the manoeuvring were all too excited to listen, you know. Anyway, it was superficial and in no time they’d got it put right but the interesting thing about this particular time was that the squadron was paraded in a hangar and addressed by the CO and he just simply said, ‘You are engaged in a very special operation and if I hear the word Oboe mentioned in any pub around this district,’ he said, ‘Your feet won’t touch the ground.’ And out of nowhere we were surrounded by plain clothes which I suppose were detectives and everybody was suitably terrified of course and I didn’t mention Oboe till about 1960 [laughs]. There was three types of bomb aiming equipment. There was Oboe, Gee and H2S and they were, they followed on, you know and I think by the time we got too Little Staughton we were in to the H2S or Gee. BW: And did you work on these bits of kit or were you - JBF: No. All the - BW: You still on the airframe? JBF: All the, the advanced kit, it was Canadians, they all, it was a Canadian unit. They were all Canadians. They all got drunk together, they went out together. It was just like that you know. They were told not to speak to anybody and they were all nice guys it’s just they’d been frightened like us, you know. BW: So you never worked on these sets but you knew they were on the aircraft. JBF: Oh yes. We, what we used to do, they did the NFT. BW: What’s the NFT? JBF: Night Flying Test. The - BW: Right. JBF: In the afternoon. We’d fill them up with oil, petrol and coolant and look at the engines. The big problem with the mark 4 Mosquito was because they were flying a lot higher than the bombers, thirty, twenty eight, thirty thousand feet they were prone to oil leaks so we got quite adept. What we used to do was they’d say that, a bit of a mess coming down and you’d see it everywhere and so they used to take the cowlings off and start the engine up and we’d all, before they started the engines up we’d crawl up the back of the aircraft and hang on and look in to the engine and see if we could spot the oil leaks because there was a million nuts there you know and quite, we did spot - BW: And so were you, were you on top of the wing at this point? JBF: You were on top of the wing with about, what, a foot off, well three foot off the propeller. BW: I was going to say ‘cause you’re having to look over in to the cowling and the blade is spinning. JBF: The blades are going around full pelt ‘cause they went up high they were at full throttle you know but it worked. It was primitive but there was no other way. The thing was leaking but when they got up that high and with the thing going and we just thought we used to see dribbles coming down. The carburettor was on the back and we used to see dribbles coming down and then we’d work it back. Well it was those nuts and Stan, the corporal, Corporal Wright when it stopped he’d, I said, ‘We’ll check this section,’ and he did do and they were loose you know. We got quite good at that really. BW: And these, this is clearly in the days before any sort of protective safety equipment and goggles. JBF: Oh no there’s - BW: Ear defenders and things. JBF: Well to give you an idea, when they, have you ever been close to a Mosquito? It’s quite tall you know. BW: I’ve been to one in a museum, yes, but - JBF: It’s quite, the end - NH: Not with engines running [laughs] JBF: The, we had ladders to get on the back, you know. Well of course within no time the ladders had disappeared because we’d no fuel in the huts so everybody chopped up the ladders and we used to use, when they, as you know you get in a Mosquito in the centre underneath and there’s a metal stair thing. BW: Yeah. JBF: Well we used to use those to get on the back and my souvenir was this finger. BW: And this is on your left hand. JBF: Yeah. There’s a stich here and a stich there, a stich there and a stich there because - BW: On your little finger. JBF: It was wet and being tall you know I was able to go it. I mean Handley, he was about five foot three, couldn’t even get near the thing you know ‘cause I could reach and put the ladder on and it was wet and the ladder slipped and my hand went around the engine nacelle and there’s, I went to the Chiefy, you know, Lendrum and he said, ‘You’d better go and get that fixed,’ so I went to the sick bay and they said, ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘Yes.’ They cleaned it up and I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was that, you know. And they said, ‘Oh yes. We need a few stitches. Right. Stand by.’ So when I’d got over that he said, ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Two hours excused duties for bawling. BW: And so they’d done the stitching in your hands without anaesthetic. JBF: Well I did two hours excused duties. Well I didn’t do. BW: That was it. JBF: I went back to the unit and said to the chief, I said, ‘Sorry I’m on excused duties.’ ‘Oh, well, just before you go have a look at this’ [laughs]. So - NH: Oh dear. Yeah JBF: That was that. BW: And the Mosquito clearly used Merlin engines. Do you know what - JBF: That’s right. Merlin 20s. BW: And how did you rate those? JBF: Oh they were smashing. I never worked on anything else other than the, in Burma we had Hurricane, Hurricane 2Cs cannon and they were Merlin engines and then when they converted after the war to Spit 9s they were a very posh but we had to have training for these they were so posh. You know the latest Merlin engine that was in the Spitfire 9 which was of course was five years after the original Spitfires and we just, we knew how to fill them up with the oil and coolant and so on - BW: And did you specialise in engine maintenance or were you working on the airframe of the Mosquito as well? JBF: Oh no the air frame was a rigger called Alan Fraser, the rigger. Each aircraft had a fitter and a rigger as we were called. The airframe was a man who’d been trained as an air frame mechanic and I was on the engines as the engine mechanic. BW: And so who was the air frame mechanic? JBF: Alan. Alan Fraser. BW: He was the rigger. JBF: The rigger. That’s right. BW: And is that the same. JBF: That’s right. BW: Same name as an air frame engineer. JBF: Air frame mechanic, it was the rigger. BW: Ok. JBF: Yeah. BW: And you had a corporal in charge of the team. JBF: Yeah. BW: Stan Wright. JBF: Stan Wright was the corporal. BW: And did you mention an LAC Handley? JBF: Oh he was my pal in Burma. BW: Ok so he was - JBF: LAC Handley. BW: Not part of this particular - JBF: Yeah. BW: Team. JBF: He wasn’t part of this set up. BW: And your chief tech, is that right, was, who was your chief tech - JBF: Oh Chiefy Lendrum. BW: Lendrum. JBF: Yeah. Lendrum was the - BW: Is that one, one word L E N D R U M. JBF: I think so yeah. NH: It wasn’t Len Drum. JBF: He was the flight sergeant, you know. He was in charge. In fact I think without, off the record as you might say he was responsible for the ladders. [laughs] BW: He was the one, he was the one who took them away to use as firewood. JBF: And they were all, we’d burned them all. I mean there was quite, it wasn’t hilarious, you were working until you, you know feel asleep sort of thing and it was a real band of blokes you know. It was, I think that’s really what won the war was the fact that everybody just got stuck in. Churchill was marvellous. And everybody got stuck in, you know. I don’t think Hitler could have realised what he’d awakened in the British when he was busy refusing Chamberlain’s piece of paper, you know. He didn’t realise exactly because Goering said, ‘Oh you know we’ll subjugate the British. The air force will do this,’ that and the other you know and of course he didn’t. Battle of Britain. And they turned to Russia. BW: And so just thinking about the maintenance unit or the mechanics involved on the base here. JBF: Yeah. BW: So there’s, there’s the two guys there’s yourself and the rigger responsible for the aircraft and a corporal. Was he over more than one aircraft or just - JBF: No. Just the one. BW: Ok. So there was the three of you assigned to the one aircraft. JBF: That’s right. BW: And the chief tech presumably looked after - JBF: He was over the flight. BW: The whole lot. JBF: A flight yeah. BW: Ok. JBF: Yeah. The six aircraft. BW: Did you know the other crews at all? The other flying - JBF: Well we knew them but – BW: Crews on the Mossies? JBF: We stuck together really, you know. Yes we knew all of them really, by name but - BW: And you you didn’t have cause to work on any of the other aircraft. Say if one riggers went down. JBF: Oh sometimes. It depends. One of the features of the Rolls Royce engine was I think it was to do with the carburettor and there was this cup and it used to accumulate water so what we had to do was we had to take off the locking wire, unscrew the cup, drain the water out, put the cup back and put the locking wire on and the finished article had to be supervised by the corporal, you know, that you’d actually done what you were supposed to do and - BW: And the paperwork that they use nowadays certainly was a form 700. Was that still in place then? JBF: Yes. Form 700. Yeah. BW: So that’s been right the way through the service. JBF: That you signed to say that, yes, you’d done the - BW: And you obviously knew the crew well in terms of the ground crew who you worked with. Did you socialise together and live together in the barracks? JBF: We lived together in the barracks. The ground crew. Yes. We didn’t socialise, and it was discouraged, any of the air crew. The air crew were under strict instructions to say nothing when they got out of the aeroplane and in the five years the only time two aircrew ever got out and said something was when they were steaming along at three or four hundred miles an hour in a Mosquito and an aircraft went around them like this. BW: In a circular motion. JBF: And they got out of the Mosquito, ‘We’ve seen it. We’ve seen it.’ We said, ‘What?’ And it was the first type of German jet fighter. NH: Yeah. JBF: And it was doing five hundred miles an hour or something and it just went around them while they were busy coming home or whatever they were doing, you know. BW: And so the aircrew never talked to the ground crew. JBF: Never. BW: About the mission that they’d done. JBF: Oh no. No. You didn’t get anything off them. No. BW: But they must presumably have told you about anything to you like oil problems in the engine. JBF: Oh yes. BW: Or anything they’d seen. JBF: There was a report you see. What used to happen was the air crew would come in and they’d get out the aircraft. Then they’d go and see the adjutant or whoever was in charge. They had to write a report on the raid and a report on the kite and that was relayed through Chiefy Lendrum to Stan Wright and Stan Wright would get it and say, ‘There appears to be a leak on this,’ and, ‘That’s not happening,’ or, you know. They were very reliable aircraft I must say. The only fault with them when the first Mosquitos came the cowling section of the construction hadn’t been talking to the body and so the cowling went up past the intake on the front so when you were getting, you could get it off but you couldn’t get it back in, you know so they very quickly instead of having the cowling to go that way they just had it below the intake because the two intakes are either side of the cockpit and the problem with that was they were having birds in them as they were flying. They used to get birds wedged in these. BW: So they had regular bird strikes. Is what you’re saying? JBF: Oh regular, bird strikes were fairly common. BW: And did that happen during the raid or normal flying testing or was it mainly around the airfield? JBF: Oh it was around the airfield. I don’t think it was in - BW: No. JBF: While they were bombing, you know. BW: Yeah. JBF: ‘Cause they went up at least, I think it was, twenty eight thousand feet and the Lancasters were all getting shot down and they were about what about, what, twenty six, twenty four thousand feet. What happened to the Mosquitoes was they’d come back with tiny little holes in and it was the, where the anti-aircraft shell had exploded as they were wooden they took everything. Nothing bounced off and when the chippies came, if there were holes they used to get to this and look through and see the other hole where it had gone straight through, you know. The marvellous thing about the Mossie was despite it being wood it was almost indestructible. It was marvellous, you know. Just a marvellous aircraft. BW: Because it could take so much battle damage - JBF: Yeah. BW: Without being lost if you like. It wasn’t going to - JBF: That’s right, without it being. What, the chippies had this technique if it was a biggish hole they’d cut a kind of the top layer of the plywood or whatever it was off and fit. BW: Yes. JBF: A new piece of plywood in and put the tape, you know, around and that would and do it all up with the dope and it would, you wouldn’t know it was there, you know. BW: So they’d sort of cut a square patch out around the - JBF: Cut a square patch out around the hole, yeah. BW: Around the hole and - JBF: Yeah. BW: Replace that. JBF: And if it was small enough they’d just cover it over and do the same thing. They wouldn’t take any wood out. They’d just cover it over. BW: And the air crew found that quite satisfactory. JBF: Oh yes. BW: There were no difference in handling or anything like that? JBF: It didn’t detract from the performances. BW: So, I guess the most complex part of the Mosquito for you was actually the engine that you were working on. JBF: That’s right. Yeah. BW: You found them pretty reliable. JBF: Oh yes. Yeah. BW: Did you find them easy to work on or were they particularly complex in their own right? JBF: Oh no once we’d learned the basics, funnily, the lucky thing for me was at Cosford we trained on Merlin engines and so when I was posted to a Merlin, I was first of all posted to an air gunners school with Blenheims and I’d never seen a radial engine because there were no radial engines in, we’d worked on Merlins you know. So I got out of there, I didn’t like it. I put in for a posting which is how I got to Wyton and the big thing about South Wales was the rugby. I was playing rugby for the station because it’s, you know it’s a, you know a big rugby area you know, miles away from the war. It was an air gunners school and the air gunners were carefully separated from the crew, the ground crew, and they were trained and passed out with all the pomp and ceremony and they went on to whichever squadron the were allocated to and lasted about ten minutes, you know, because the technique of downing a Lancaster was to get after the guns to start with so there was the one sticking out of the front, nothing underneath and the upper. The - BW: Mid upper gunner. JBF: W/Op AG you know, so the Germans shot underneath behind the tail so that the fellow, nobody could get at them, straight into the cockpit. I mean people go on about the Lancaster. How marvellous it was. It was a death trap and these books will illustrate how because the number, you know they lost fifty or sixty thousand men and they were sitting ducks once a night fighter, and they would never dream of, where you see on all the films where they’re all coming down this way they just went underneath and it was the same with the Flying Fortress. They had to stop flying daylight raids despite all the under guns. They had, they had a fella sitting in a thing with guns underneath. It didn’t matter. The first one that lost his lives was the gunner and then it was a sitting duck. They could do what they liked. I believe one German ace shot a hundred and seventy three Flying Fortresses down. Just one bloke. BW: The sister squadron on the base you mentioned was 83 squadron. JBF: That’s right, yeah. BW: So did you hear back from ground crews and, and talk in the barracks let’s say or the mess about what was happening on their side. JBF: No. Nothing. They was billeted in separate, 109 was billeted here, say. The other side of the aerodrome was 83. BW: So completely separate squadrons JBF: Completely. BW: With own messes. JBF: Yes. Well, with us being, they were Pathfinder bombers and it was secret at that stage, this Oboe thing so they wanted the least person that knew you know and they had you suitably terrified. You felt you had private men, you know under the bed sort of thing. As kids, we were only kids. I mean I was about twenty two or something, Twenty three. BW: Thinking back then to repairing a Merlin what would you say was the most complex thing to repair? What was the most difficult - JBF: Well - BW: Sort of repair or work you had to do on it? JBF: We didn’t do repairs. What happened was they went in after a number of hours for scheduled maintenance and they got the plugs changed and the oil completely changed and the coolant and they did tests on the engine itself to see that it was still workable because they were work horses you know, they was. I mean we never ever had an engine change in the Mosquito. I don’t ever remember one having to go in for an engine change. They all went in for repairs because of damage or wear or whatever. But just a marvellous piece of equipment, you know. BW: And when they were brought back or once you’d finished the repair did you have to do engine run ups to verify that it was working alright? JBF: Oh every day, part of the night, you had to run, you had to DI the engine to see it was, you know, add the coolant in and the oil and all the rest of it. Then it had a test run on the ground. The engines were test run on the ground and to start off only the corporal did the testing and then finally we did that, I did, you know I’d been there a couple of years finally and we did the test runs if they were on leave or anything. So you get to, you’ve got to run, a Mosquito is quite, you know, terrifying to start with. The corporal had someone sitting with you and that. BW: And so this was done on, on a test bed presumably on - JBF: No. No. Just where it was in the grass. BW: Ok. JBF: They didn’t go anywhere. BW: Ok. And - JBF: It was part of the night flying test to run the aircraft before it went up. BW: And although you mentioned previously that when you were looking for a leak you got on the top of the wing to look in. JBF: On top of the wing, yeah. BW: Did you have to do the same once you’d repaired, once you’d serviced the engine? JBF: It was only for oil leaks. BW: Ok. JBF: If they came back and mentioned any kind of leak we used to do this on the back of the aircraft and look in just to see if we could see, you know. BW: Did you ever get to go in the cockpit to start the engines? JBF: Yes. I’ve actually flown in a Mosquito. Wing Commander Green was going up for an NFT and Stan Wright fixed it for me to go with him and the problem was at twenty thousand feet there was a juddering. It was very slight, he said, but at twenty thousand feet down and it started to do this you know and it turned out a mixture problem. Something was going wrong at that particular height with the mixture and they fixed it up and it was ok. I only did the, I had one trip in a Mosquito. BW: How long was that? How long did it last? JBF: Well, basically the NFT about half an hour, three quarters of an hour. BW: And what, what did you experience during a flight? What was it like? JBF: Well I was just gobsmacked. I was absolutely, you know, like this, sort of thing. BW: And he didn’t, did he let you have a go at the controls or not? JBF: Oh no. No. They wouldn’t let you do anything. God. Strewth. That would have been it. BW: But you got to sit next to the pilot while he’s – JBF: You’ve got to, well the - BW: Was doing the test. JBF: The navigator’s here and the pilot’s here you know and – BW: Yeah. JBF: The throttles were in between. BW: It was exhilarating I’m assuming. JBF: Oh absolutely. Yeah. I was, I felt, you know, Group Captain Franklin, here we go, you know. Real Mr Mainwaring job you know. There’s one, I don’t know whether you want any story out of it but there was one graphic story that, that happened. I think it was at Marham and I was on the main plane waiting for the bowser to fill up and suddenly there were screams underneath the aircraft, ‘Help. Help.’ So I got off the main plane and got down and the armourer had primed a five hundred pound bomb and then he couldn’t hook it in so he was standing there so I got the bomb on my back and slowly, I was, you know strong in those days and I lifted it up. BW: So you crouched underneath it, took the weight on your back. JBF: I took the weight on my back and while he hooked it in. He said, ‘We’re alright now.’ I said, ‘Well we’re not being blown up at least,’ and the aftermath was I think the op was over because they were filling, we used to have to fill them up immediately they came back you know in case and Stan Wright came to me. He said, ‘You know, Jack,’ he said ‘Were you on the starboard wing?’ I said, ‘No.’ I said, ‘I got this scream from underneath and I went down and helped the armourer. We managed to get over the problem.’ When I came out everybody had vanished and the aircraft as far as we could make out had been to France or Germany and back with no petrol caps on the right side. So, he said, ‘You know,’ he said, ‘This is a court martial offence.’ I said, ‘Hang on.’ So I thought about it. So I got on the bike, went, cycled around into the hangar, all the lights were on and there were Mossies being maintained you know so I couldn’t see anybody so I climbed up on the back of this Mosquito, took off the two petrol caps, and the tops, put them in my jacket and got down. Nobody, didn’t see me so I, so I went to Stan. I said, ‘You’re alright, Stan. You won’t be court martialled.’ I said, ‘Here they are.’ [laughs] Gave him the two tops and the petrol. He was absolutely, you know, he was gobsmacked [caught the phrase locally?] and so hurriedly because the people that would have been up for the trouble were the mechanic that was on the other side of the Mosquito ‘cause he’d signed the 700 to say it was full and how the aircraft got to Germany and back with no petrol caps on we never knew and nobody else did because they didn’t know they were off. BW: And the air crew normally do checks before they - JBF: Oh yes. BW: Take off as well. JBF: Well they start the engines up and all that you know you had to. The method of starting was you had the trolley acc and you primed the engine. There was a little flap on the side and you primed the engine and then you give the signal up to the bloke on the trolley acc, he presses the - BW: Thumbs up. JBF: Electrics and it starts up, you know and he, if there was any worry it was when we hadn’t enough ground crew to go around. You had to do the two engines so you had to prime the one on the port side shall we say and then you had to come and prime the one on the starboard side and then you give the, and fortunately despite you know, I think it’s the quality of the workmanship really because we never ever had a failure. You know. Overheating. They both started each time even when there was only one man doing it because we’d no people to do it. BW: And in all weathers too. JBF: Oh well it was, you know, Norfolk in the winter is quite something else. The thing they used to do when it was a long raid we knew it was a long raid because they’d come out with urns of cocoa and corned beef sandwiches about that thick. BW: About two inch thick. JBF: And you could get, there was an unlimited supply. You could do, if you felt like running around a lot as we were during the night and so we got stuck into these. You know it was fine. Didn’t mind. The, really you have to be the age we were at. Anybody else, it must have been, you know if you were thirty five or forty or whatever it was it must have been awful, just, and with a family you know. Well one corporal developed shingles and it was the family. He was on the phone to the wife and the kid had measles or whatever it was you know and he was beside himself. I was exactly - BW: And yet - JBF: The right age for the war. It couldn’t have been better. NH: Yeah. BW: And as a single man you were quite happily sharing a barracks with your mates. JBF: Oh yes. I hadn’t got a girlfriend. I was just a single man, you know. In fact, one Christmas I gave up my leave for one of the married men who had kids you know. Which was nothing heroic. It was just common, you know. BW: Did, did you feel that your efforts were appreciated by the crews and the - JBF: Oh yeah. BW: Officers on the base? JBF: Oh everybody. It was a together thing. I mean working that close and their lives were involved. It was a very close knit, all the squadrons were the same. A very close knit unit. There was no Captain Mainwaring standing around, you know. I mean there was no saluting. BW: Really. JBF: You just got on with it and first names, you know they called you. BW: So - JBF: You always called them whatever they were like squadron leader, you know, Bufton and you gave them their rank but we were just Jack and Alan and Stan. BW: Were there any, you mentioned an error in someone leaving petrol caps off? Were there any incidents that you knew of elsewhere in the squadron perhaps? JBF: Well - BW: Where there was something that had been missed that resulted, for example, in an accident or the loss of an aircraft. JBF: Oh the only thing that we watched from start to finish was U-Uncle and two lads, they could have been more than twenty five, navigator and the pilot, you know and they were very excited. It was their first trip and we got them in and watched them and they took off and went straight, straight in. BW: So the nose pitched up and they went straight down. JBF: They went straight down and burned to death, the two of them. Big explosion. Bang. And I said that, there was this old sergeant and I said, he said they probably didn’t lock the throttles. They were that excited about getting up because they had to do a lot of homework in while they were in the aircraft to find out what they were going to do, you know. They just went straight in. BW: And that was close to or over the base. JBF: Well we just watched the whole thing. Yeah. And the ,our aircraft finally, when I say our aircraft this DK number 334 I think it was or 335 it crash landed and it was that old the aircrew hated it because it was absolutely on its tips you know. Did a hundred and eleven ops and it landed and the undercarriage went up into the - NH: The wing. JBF: Into the engine nacelle and just they weren’t hurt and that was it. They took us around and we were photographed, the three of us Alan, Stan and myself in front of this wreck. BW: So moving on from Wyton and Marham. JBF: Yes. BW: You mentioned that later in your service you transferred to 28 squadron. JBF: Yeah. BW: So what happened in the period between - JBF: Little Staughton - BW: This would be - JBF: Was the next thing after Marham. BW: And did you request a transfer to another squadron? JBF: What happened was I put in for overseas and said I’d serve anywhere because I I thought, well, realised, that we would never go anywhere else. We were, the war was well on from D Day. They were going into Germany, the armies, France and there was less, and it was rather backing up troops rather than bombing anywhere so I put in for overseas and said I’d serve anywhere and that’s how I came to go to 28 squadron. Next minute I was on a troop ship and then I was in North Western India at a place called Ranchi. BW: How do you spell that? JBF: I joined 28 squadron. BW: How do you spell Ranchi? JBF: R A N C H I. BW: And this was in North West India. JBF: North West India. Yeah. BW: And so the attraction of going was really because you felt there wasn’t going to be that much more - JBF: I was - BW: To do on the squadron. JBF: The age I was. Twenty four you know. BW: And you fancied the opportunity of going abroad. JBF: At least, I thought, yeah. The next minute the CO said, ‘Don’t unpack your kit you’re going to Burma.’ So I thought well this will be a change. So we gave in our blue, all the winter clothing and put in a kit bag and the marvellous thing was when it came back to us in Malaya it was intact for those two years. So with 28 squadron they were on rest and then they suddenly said, ‘We’re off. We’re starting off,’ and we went to Burma by road and rail and we got on the train. It went right up into the North West provinces of India you know, up to, by rail a change to the narrow gauge railway, Assam. That’s it. All that through I think it’s around the top of what is now Bangladesh you know and you go well India’s what you might call semi-primitive to absolutely basics. When you get up there the Naga tribesmen are still in the outfits, you know. I thought gee whiz if these fellas were in the Olympics they’d win everything. Their leg muscles were like this because they were hill men. Apparently, the English had civilised them and they were no longer head hunters. But they chased the Japanese. But what used to happen was you’d be standing there and they’d come down from the mountain and do what we called the shopping which was trying to get food, I think was the main thing. Then on the way back they had conical baskets which they put their provisions in and they each held the bottom of the conical basket and then they started a rhythm of steps and they went straight up the mountain like that. None of this we’ll climb here and all the movement was about fifteen of them all holding on. Nothing was out of place. Nothing. Must have been doing it all their lives. It was great. BW: Just out of interest how did you get shipped out to India? Did you fly out there or were you - JBF: No. It was the Cameronia. BW: Troop shipped. NH: Tell them about your Suez Canal. BW: Well the Suez Canal was - NH: I’ll make some tea while you - JBF: The reason I’ve told it is on the boxes of dates before the war you always had an Arab pulling two camels and I’m just lounging on the side of the Cameronia and suddenly an Arab pulling two camels appeared on the side of the Suez Canal. So I’ve seen it. You know. Right off the box. So, we, we finally landed in Bombay. Worli was the transit camp and then we were on the trains going to our different placements. BW: And this is Worli. JBF: Worli that’s the transit camp outside Bombay. BW: How do you spell Worli? JBF: I should imagine it’s something like W R O R L and L I somewhere on the end of it. And the thing to watch out for on the Indian trains are the hookers because they are going that slow when they go up hill the hookers jump on to the train with hooks and hook all the equipment out of the windows which are always open and Handley, my pal gets out in his underwear with just shorts and he gets out with an officer in a dressing gown. NH: All the gear had gone. JBF: We’d lost it all with the hookers. And well a real introduction to India, on the floor on the station was this old man covered in flies. He was just covered in flies and I said to one of the Anglos, I said, ‘Well what’s that?’ He said, ‘He’s just dying.’ And that, that sums India up for me you know. That was it. Another time I saw a man, he was quite a big man, he was on a piece of corrugated and four men were holding him you know and I said, ‘He looks dead.’ ‘He is dead. They’re just carting him off. He’s just died.’ It was just like Fu Manchu you know. Flares and this one had been. And we finally we were taken by truck to Burma and it was along the Manipur Road and then it’s, it’s a flat road in between mountains where Kohima and Imphal where they did the fighting and then the road goes like this and suddenly it turns right and starts to go up called The Chocolate Staircase when the monsoon was on because it was, and we were in these trucks, you know, and just went up one side and the other side and these trucks were just and Tamu, that was the first airstrip. Jungle. It was thick jungle you know. Thick jungle airstrip and the first casualty of 28 squadron happened at Tamu. One of the, flight lieutenant [Hewlis?] an Australian, he’d forgotten, they said, to lock, you had to, because the trees, it didn’t taper off the airstrip it came straight up so you had to bounce along the runway and suddenly do this. BW: Lurch in to the air. JBF: Well his undercarriage caught on the trees, tipped him over and he was hanging upside down burned to death. You know. And we just, that was the first introduction. Watching him burn to death in Tamu. BW: And 28 squadron, what did they fly? Were they [?] JBF: Hurricane 2Cs they were. Clapped out Hurricanes that, I mean, by that stage of the war the government, I should imagine was penniless and you name it and they hadn’t the wherewithal to replace them and it was a reconnaissance unit and the issue, the side sort of activity, shall we say, was shooting up the Japanese on the ground and that’s where we lost most of the aircraft because they were, the Japanese were very good shots and they used to shoot them down when they were doing the ground strafing and we were in the jungle from January, February and we went down the Kobor Valley in a truck which was thick jungle full of malaria and you name it and one thing we learned at that particular, you can’t pee out of a moving truck. It was in a convoy so he couldn’t stop so we each went to the back of the, we had a competition, we each went to the, got off our toolbox, went to the back, hanged up, everything organised and nothing came out and everybody was the same. You can’t pee out of a moving truck. BW: And what time of the war was this? This was after - JBF: This was - BW: D Day wasn’t it so was it late ‘44 when you transferred out there? JBF: This was ’44. Yeah. BW: Going in to early ‘45 JBF: Well forty, it was the end of ‘44 ’45. BW: So this was after the Battle of Kohima when you’d gone through the - JBF: Oh that was all. BW: Towns yeah, yeah. JBF: Oh all that would have been the ‘43 yes. All those, oh yes that was absolutely, the people that did that they should have been, what was left of them, they should be pensioned for life. They were fighting, they were fighting over a tennis court in one of the places. BW: And so you say 28 squadron was a reconnaissance squadron. JBF: That’s it. Reconnaissance and two cannon. BW: Yeah. JBF: That why they’re called 2Cs, two cannon, heavy, heavy machine gun, you know. What is it? Five? BW: Twenty millimetre. JBF: That’s it. Yeah. Twenty five millimetre. Quite heavy shells you know and when we got down to this Kalaymyo and it was just bush and we didn’t see an aircraft because the war was moving that quick. The next thing we were, by truck to a place called [Yau] which was an airstrip in the paddy fields. NH: Do you want another cup Brian? BW: Yes please. Thank you, Neil. And this is further into Burma. JBF: This is further into Northern Burma. Tamu’s up here and you come across like this to Mandalay. Well we went down the Kobor Valley and across to [Yau?] and [Yau?] we went to Sadong. BW: Thank you. JBF: Sadong was the airstrip outside Mandalay. The Japanese were still in Mandalay and this is where we lost the aircraft. The aircrew. We lost two or three aircrew here because the Japanese could shoot them as they come over the fort. They were in the fort, you know. They lost them there. BW: And even that was just down to small arms fire. JBF: I think it was small arms, I never saw ackack guns or even, we heard all the row that was going on but I don’t ever recollect, I think it was small arms fire. The Japanese rifle is 256 the, the calibre. You know, ours are 303. Their rifles were 256. Smaller bullets but just as lethal but of course they’re all five foot three so carrying something lighter was part of the course for them. So we were in Sadong and we were there quite some time and they used to have the mule trains going up to supply the troops. Like Sadong’s here and Mandalay is there and thirteen miles I think was the difference and they came one day and said, ‘You’re not going to bed. You’re going to fly down to Meiktila.’ And so we didn’t go to bed that particular night, struck the tents, got in the Dakotas. All the Dakotas had no doors on. If you want to be frightened go on a Dakota with no doors. And we landed in Meiktila and they hadn’t cleaned up the airstrip. All the Japanese they’d killed were everywhere which was the first time really I’d seen what you might call a battlefield and well we just got stuck in from there with the aeroplanes. BW: You mentioned that you’d struck tents. JBF: Oh yes. BW: Were all your accommodation presumably out in the Far East was in tents was it? JBF: While the campaigning was on it was tents. You had a piece of coconut matting with two sort of slide holes and through that went two pieces of bamboo. Now I pinched two full sets of runway grating. I’d call them nails. They were pieces of metal and they were driven into the ground so that when it was the monsoon they had the metal over and the aircraft didn’t sink so I got hold of four - BW: Pierced steel planking. JBF: Of these and I drove those in the ground put the bamboo on, tied on and my bed was off ‘cause you couldn’t, they wouldn’t let you sleep on the ground because there were scorpions, you know. All the stuff that’s there. Scorpion. If you left your tent flap open you couldn’t get in because of the bugs. Somebody did to see what would happen and it was an absolute carpet of every conceivable type of flying bug you’ve ever heard of. So we never did that again. NH: No. JBF: We got down to Meiktila. It all went very well and we knew the war was going well because the Arakan forces who had taken Meiktila our, our army was General Slim coming this way. The Yanks were on the outside coming that way and the Indian army was coming this way along the Arakan and it was the – BW: The opposite end. JBF: Arakan that had captured Meiktila and so we got on to Meiktila and, you know, set up and they were doing everything as usual. It was exactly the same. Seven hundred. Oil, so on and then see them off, bring them in and run them and so on. Keep them - BW: So even though you were working on different aircraft you were still working on the same engine to all - JBF: That’s right. BW: Intents and purposes. JBF: Merlin 20s. That’s why I was posted to the Hurricane squadron, because it was home from home. We knew what to do and could do it right away. BW: Even in those adverse conditions and presumably not as well supplied. JBF: Well - BW: Did you, did you have trouble with supplies? JBF: Well we had nothing to eat. That was the trouble with supplies. But I mean hens eggs in Burmese is [ju ug?] [koplar?] is cloths. So you had a pair of underpants and you’d go [ju ug] like that [koplar] and so you’d get the hens egg and they’d get the underpants. So the net result it - BW: So you’d trade. JBF: We had nothing to wear either. [laughs] BW: So you traded your under - JBF: Not that it mattered ‘cause you never had a shirt on anyway. It was just a pair of shorts, socks and boots you know that’s the and with your boots you had to knock your boots out every day because the scorpions loved, it must have been the smell of your feet, they loved getting in the boots so we had to be, and tool boxes. If you, when you opened your toolbox the first thing to do is wait and see if anything moves. Then you’d know there was something in there that shouldn’t be in there you know. So we’re getting on with it and I think the most distressing part of Meiktila was a trench full of Japanese who’d been, they’d used the flame thrower on them. There was about anywhere between fifty and a hundred Japanese who’d been fried. BW: All in a trench. JBF: All in the trench. ‘Cause they, they were facing either this way or that way and the flame thrower had come this way and just fried the lot. BW: And was this at the edge of an airstrip or near the airstrip - JBF: Yeah. It was Meiktila airstrip. BW: Where you were working. JBF: There were shell holes with Japanese in. The first time we saw, there was one Japanese well over six feet. He was dead of course, in the shell hole. It was the first time I’d seen a big, they were all about this big but, anyway - BW: And this, this was obviously all after the battle but you never came into a closer contact with the Japanese at any time. JBF: No. Only as prisoners, not as - the next thing that happened with Meiktila he said, ‘Nine of you are being flown into the [Tongu] Box.’ Well I was picked as one of the nine so we were flown into the [Tongu] Box and I know when it was simply because we, over the radio that we heard that the Germans had packed up so it’s got to be the 8th of May. And we were in the [Tongu] Box and the laugh about that was we’d got two tents, we only had two tents. There was nine of us and suddenly the ants started, up and they had a procession going in no time. There was millions you know. Ants, you name it. They’ve got it. They were going up the guide ropes up to the top right up to the fourteen foot EPI down the other side so we thought we’ll have a bit of fun here so we got the lighted taper thing and we started chasing the ants off the, the next minute they was, your feet, being bitten and the fighter ants were biting, they were all over us, on the feet, biting. Some bad. So we’re in this in this Box thing and I could see the sergeant was getting a bit frustrated you know. The aeroplanes didn’t appear by the way. It was monsoon so they couldn’t land and take off anyway. The Dakotas had a job doing it and he said, ‘Right. We’re going to make a dash for Rangoon.’ So we thought ok, you know, ‘Rangoon. Great.’ So, so he got two West African trucks and we started off and it got to about 11 o’clock in the morning and we stopped and made a brew up. Put it on the tree and we got the fire going and the stuff out, the tea out and everything and as we were doing all this and thoroughly enjoying it out of the jungle came a patrol of British. So we just sort of, ‘Hello.’ He said, ‘What the f’ing are you,’ you know, he said, ‘Don’t you know where you are?’ We said, ‘Yes. We’re on route to Rangoon.’ He said, ‘Of course you are.’ The place was full of Japanese. He said, ‘Get the hell out of it now.’ So we never even got a cup of tea. It was like the keystone cops. The two trucks and drove off and we kept driving and it got, you know it goes dark at 6 o’clock at night there so we’d got to half past five, quarter to six and even the sergeant was getting a bit worried you know. Finally we hit an army emplacement. I don’t know how we managed to do it but they must, the sergeant must have known and he said, ‘Thank God for that,’ so we drove and he asked the officer could we bunk in for the night so we got on the floor there and at least we were surrounded by the military, you know. And so we started off the next morning and finally around about midday, 2 o’clock or something we arrived in Rangoon and they were living in a bombed out hospital at the time. The squadron. There were no buildings. Everywhere was flat, you know and the only question that was asked was, ‘Where the ‘FH’ have you been?’ They thought we’d already died. And so we arrived there and I think the most graphic thing that happened to me then, we still had Hurricanes and they used to do the cooking fires in front of this building that had no roof, no windows, no doors, nothing but at least it was, you were on the flat and it was not, it wasn’t raining you know. Marvellous and a jeep, a jeep drew up. The adjutant and two sergeants, ‘Who’s Franklin?’ So I said, ‘I am.’ ‘Get in.’ So no breakfast. Get in with the cup and the plate, you know. Driven to the flight and there’s a Hurricane standing there and the CO said, ‘Right,’ he said, ‘Start that machine.’ So I knew it was tricky because the, it wasn’t one where you just, they press the trolley acc and you had to do clever stuff with the accelerator. You know. NH: Throttle. Yeah. JBF: And so I got in and just eased it and it was making funny [ch ch ch], the engine you know and then I just eased it on ‘cause I’d done it before, it wasn’t and it started and I did the, you had to go up to two thousand seven hundred revs to test the engine and then you test the magnetos. You switch one off and it works and you switch the other off and it works so I went through the procedures, came down and got out. So I was utterly relieved. You know, at least the thing had worked and this, Blackie his name was, he was the sergeant. He said, ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘You’ve just made me look the biggest f’ing fool in Burma.’ I said, ‘How’s that?’ He said. ‘I’ve been half an hour trying to get this thing started. You come down and it starts first time.’ First time. So I was driven back. They said, ‘Get out.’ Back to the squadron. No breakfast. That’s the only thing that happened to me out of that lot. BW: So much for their thanks. And within a few weeks or months the squadron transferred to Spitfire 9s you said. JBF: That’s right. What happened was from Rangoon we were suddenly changed over to Spit 9s it was. The Hurricanes, by the way the aircraft were just thrown in the bushes. Hurricane aircraft I mean. You know. When you went to dig a hole for the lavatory you went behind one of these because at least you had some sort of privacy. They were just there upended and that’s the other joke about Burma is that there were no toilets of course and when you had to go you had to go so the first, to start with you think oh that’s a nice piece of grass, at least it looked like and everybody in the Japanese army had already been there before. It was black. You were waist deep in it you know. That was one of the Burma experiences that you can forget about. That and the bread full of ants. I thought they were currants to start with. I thought that’s unusual, you know currant bread for breakfast and you handled, it was all ants, dead bodies of ants, they couldn’t get them out of the flour so they cooked them. NH: Oh right. JBF: And finally we went, the most graphic thing that happened in Rangoon was we were sitting there and the adjutant came through and he just looked at the four of us and he said, ‘The war’s over.’ [long pause] Seventy years late. [machine pause] JBF: And I said, ‘Where are we going?’ He said, ‘You’re going to Malaya,’ So, it was a terrible camp. It was a transit camp and we got in these kites and suddenly the kite I was in developed engine trouble and so we locked in to Siam and we spent oh at least three weeks, four weeks in Siam, at the, waiting for replacements or whatever it was you know and then we were flown in and became garrison squadron on Penang island. That was the next RAF station. BW: So this is obviously - JBF: This is after the war now. BW: August. August ’45, September ’45. JBF: This is ‘45, yeah - BW: Were you getting news of being demobbed at anytime? JBF: Oh nothing. What happened was we were, we were supposed to be, it was an army pre-war barracks beautifully built. Nothing, nothing there. The Malayans had pinched everything you know which was what happened to the cockpit covers. They came down with the new aircraft and all the cockpit covers disappeared overnight. So these Chinese detectives appeared out the woodwork you know and all the kids in the surrounding villages had got new clothes which was our cockpits covers [laughs]. And so we were there six months on rest and then we were transported by train along with thirty million cockroaches. The cockroaches are everywhere on the trains and the way to get them out is not to have a light so there’s no lights and you hear this [tapping noise] and the place is covered in cockroaches about so big. Cockroaches. So once they got the petrol mix and the lights they all went back and hung underneath. Fantastic. Even the loo which was a hole in the ground you know, shoulder to shoulder around the hole where you’re supposed to form are cockroaches waiting. BW: Strange. JBF: And we went down to Kuala Lumpur and we were in tents and it was, the thing was there was no aeroplanes and then some aeroplanes arrived and then they started educational vocational courses. We thought we’ve got to be on one of these, you know, sort of thing. BW: This was preparing you for civilian life presumably. JBF: This was, yeah. I had, I had an interview and I said, ‘Well I left a job and the man promised me I’d have it when I came back,’ So I didn’t need, really need the interview I felt. And there was a football team and I played in that. And things went on and suddenly the demob, the demob numbers started appearing. Well I was number forty and just one day right out of the blue six years, five years later you know they said, ‘Your number’s up.’ Forty. So within a week I was on the train going to Singapore and stayed at that, what is it, Changi is it? NH: Changi. The airport. Yeah. Well and the Japanese camp of course. BW: [I was there?] last year. NH: Yeah. JBF: And we handed the weapons in to the armoury. All Japanese. Japanese took the weapons. BW: That must have felt quite strange. JBF: Well it was ridiculous you know. Well it was ordered but what I’ve forgotten, I’ve just remember was the armistice in Rangoon. The rumour went around that the Japanese were coming for the armistice for Southern Asia. That bit. So they, a Japanese, they got a Japanese bunker and whereas when they captured Singapore they had all the military, the troops lined the Streets and the Japanese commander standing up in a motor car commanding, you know. All the poor squaddies were just stood there you know. We did, they had officers on the runway but everybody, it was like a football crowd so we all crowded around. I tell you what it’s like. General MacArthur on the boat where he accepts the surrender of Japan. It was like that, like a football. Well I sidled around the side and they had a desk a bit bigger than this and two of our generals were standing there and the aircraft, they were like Dakotas only much smaller pulled up and into this compound thing and this general said, ‘Do we salute?’ He said, ‘We don’t f’ing well salute them.’ So they pulled the, and there was the Japanese generals, the Japanese in full evening dress. They climbed out, marched over to the table and they just nodded and pointed to the trucks and they were put in trucks for Rangoon for the surrender and that was the surrender in Rangoon. It was just like a football match. NH: Yeah. JBF: There was no ceremony at all. It just - BW: And that was it. JBF: As it was, you know. NH: Yeah. JBF: Then finally the final news was the boats arrived so of course we couldn’t wait so that’s the only time I saw Raffles Hotel was in the truck going past to the troop ship. BW: I was there myself in November. JBF: And came home to Liverpool. NH: What? You docked in Liverpool. JBF: Docked in Liverpool. NH: Marvellous. Yeah. JBF: Then we got on the train and went to [Worley?]. NH: Back to the beginning. JBF: Just outside Blackpool and were demobbed from there and so we had the kitbag with your uniform in and bits and pieces. You were in your RAF and your, the bag was your civilian, you know. They kitted me out with a suit, a shirt, a tie, socks, underpants, vest and shoes and it came in a series of boxes it seemed to me, just holding. We were all the same, holding up these boxes and then they just said, ‘Ok, your train’s arrived,’ and we got on the train to Liverpool and I caught the tram home. NH: They found shoes to fit you did they? JBF: Yeah. Got, got to Gordon Drive. Nobody’s in. Nobody in the house so [Winn Roth?] called over, ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘Come in for a cup of tea.’ So I sat in there until my sister came back from work and when I got in the house was full of mice because nobody had lived in it you see and all the scratches were on the sideboard and the various places. The meat safe thing. So I started and I caught mice every night for seven days and the technique was we, we, we had a ewbank cleaner and we chased them out of the dining room and I realised they all went in this ewbank cleaner. Every time. No change. So I said to my sister, ‘Fill up the sink.’ So she fills the sink up and takes the bowl out. I lift up the ewbank cleaner and depress and of course the doors open and out drop the mice. I killed eight in one night. The final night. So that was the trick. You know you see these pictures where there’s a party and - NH: Yeah. That’s right. Yeah. JBF: All the relatives. I never even got a party. My mother was in America seeing my brother. BW: Who must have been in a show in America presumably. JBF: Oh well he was – NH: He was touring with his - JBF: At that stage - BW: Right. JBF: He was with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and they, Agnes de Mille, you know the, what is she? A sister of de Mille himself you know. BW: Cecil B. JBF: You know. NH: Yeah. JBF: She was a choreographer and she choreographed Rodeo, was the name of the ballet and my brother was the champion roper in Rodeo and that was, and it was, well it was you know he was famous and it wasn’t in England. NH: He was famous over there. BW: Quite a showman. JBF: Yeah. NH: Never over here but he was in America, you know. Well known in the ballet world. JBF: Yes. So basically I think and oh just one nice touch. I hadn’t been paid. Nobody had been paid you know all the way through from India I can’t remember. We got nothing in India. NH: I suppose you couldn’t do anything with it anyway. JBF: And these cheques started to appear. I thought, the five years I’ve worked so I didn’t go to work. I didn’t tell them. So the cheque came through and I said to my pal Tom, who was also demobbed, I said, ‘What do you think?’ He said, ‘Let’s go to London. Just to see what it’s like.’ So we get the cheque and off we go to London. He was the same. And it went on ‘til the week before Christmas when the cheques stopped. I said, ‘I’ve got to go to work Tom,’ I said. ‘There’s no more cheques.’ So I started work about the 15th of December that year having had off September, October, November and part of December. I thought well that’s all the leave. NH: Yeah. That’s it. Well you’d earned it hadn’t you by that stage? BW: And were you able to go back to the job that you’d been - JBF: Oh yes I went back. BW: Left. JBF: I was the last in ‘cause I was, I was the last out the youngest and I was the last in and they’d taken, I went back to the Banana Rooms but they’d already taken a building in Sir Thomas Street and built and extension to it so we went back to reasonable offices and started to build up the business from that moment and that’s how it was. I finally retired forty seven years from Dixons. BW: So you stayed at the same firm - JBF: Yeah. BW: For forty seven years. JBF: Yeah. Well what did I know? I was twenty six you know. I had to learn to play tennis and badminton and in fact be normal. It was something I’d never experienced you know actually coming home at night and sitting down to a meal. We thought it was wonderful, Tom and I, you know. Marvellous. BW: And subsequent to that there have been in recent years a bit more prominence and commemoration given to Bomber Command. JBF: There has been hasn’t there? Yes. BW: How do you feel about that? JBF: ‘Cause they, well you’ve only got to read those books to know the price paid by the people who actually did it. When they say there’s fifty five, fifty seven thousand aircrew killed in those books that I’ve got. NH: They’re on the chair there. JBF: They’re talking about. There they are. Seven or eight Lancasters disappearing in the night. That was fifty six blokes. And it was every night. It wasn’t just [next?] and then there’s a month’s delay. I mean the Mosquitos, we lost about three. One received a direct hit of an anti-aircraft shell and blew up and the others were just shot down. But the rest of them, I mean, our kite did a hundred and eleven ops – NH: Yeah good. BW: Not with the same crew though presumably - JBF: Oh no we had all kinds of crews. BW: Just thinking back to your time in the Far East did you get to know the pilots on the squadron, 28 squadron at all well? JBF: Oh yes very much so. They were very, one pilot wouldn’t let you touch his aircraft. He used to, Eddie Hunter was a Canadian. He said, it was my turn to DI his kite he said, ‘Look Lofty,’ he says, ‘I know about aircraft.’ he says, ‘I’ll do the necessary,’ and he filled up the, I filled up the juice and he checked the engine and did the oil and the coolant and that and he got shot down that day. What happened was he, from his, they used to go in twos you know. The second man, the report was, Eddie went down strafing the Japanese and as he was coming up he hit a tree, just caught the tree coming up and he crashed and killed him. BW: Just clarify a couple of expressions if you don’t mind. DI what does that stand for? JBF: Daily inspection. BW: Daily inspection. JBF: Each aircraft has a daily inspection and it was very important because it’s always after a raid, you know or a flying test or whatever and you have to sign the form 700 to say it’s, your bit’s ok. BW: And trolley acc. That’s a trolley accumulator is that right? JBF: Accumulator. There’s twenty four volt is it? NH: Yeah. It’s like a – BW: Yeah. JBF: And they’re on two wheels. NH: Generator thing isn’t it that they charge the engine with instead of having a starter motor. JBF: Plug it into the aeroplane. BW: Yeah. JBF: You’ve primed with the pump, there’s a little hatch and you open that. Prime and screw up and then press the trolley acc. It starts. And the Merlin 20 was like that all the time. BW: How did you rate the Spit 9s that you worked on? JBF: Sorry? BW: How did you rate the Spitfire 9s that you worked on? JBF: Well they were very interesting. Not that we knew anything about them but there was nobody to tell you anything. They were just dumped on us you know and we just sort of – BW: Were they Merlins 66s in the 9 mark 9. JBF: They were much, they were engines we’d never seen or we knew where the oil was and we knew where the coolant was but the rest of it was just totally different. BW: Did you feel that they were more reliable then the Mark 20 engines? JBF: Oh yes. Well it was the, what you might call the essence of all the experience because the Lancasters had, you know, starting with Spitfires, Lancasters, Mosquitos all had Merlins in. NH: So yeah. JBF: I mean they were all, the Merlins underpinned the whole shooting match you know. NH: Right. Yeah. BW: And you still found the 66s to be pretty reliable. JBF: Oh yes. Yeah. BW: And they had a supercharger on them. JBF: Yeah. BW: Didn’t they? JBF: That’s right yeah. BW: Did you know much about those or work on those? JBF: Oh no. They were just stood there you know. One thing I haven’t mention was watching a B17 fly into the ground if that’s of any interest. Is it? At Little Staughton which was very close to a lot of American bases I was DI’ing this kite and I looked up and I saw this aircraft low flying. I thought God strewth and they did a lot of low flying and it kept on flying and then it dipped and I just watched it coming towards me and it dipped into the ground and suddenly everything started to fly off it and it finished about eighty yards from me. It finally disintegrated and blew up and I’m mesmerised. You can’t, I don’t know what it is, you can’t run away and then I heard a voice, ‘Lofty’ he said, ‘Come here,’ he said, ‘Get under this,’ and so we hid under a Mosquito with six hundred and forty gallons of petrol [laughs] and we’re under the engine, you know, because it was the most protection but what I remember of the, of that was one of the cylinders complete, when the explosion of the engine it blew the cylinders out and you recognise it mid-air, ‘Oh yes there’s the’, and it just came out and dropped just short of where the Mosquito we were under you know. BW: And so you watched this bomber coming towards you - JBF: Yeah just watched it and - BW: Disintegrate as it hit the ground. JBF: Into the ground. Nothing. Not one of those. BW: Yeah not going straight in. Going in at a sharp angle. JBF: There was nobody in it. It was on glide, you know. It was on pilot. The Yanks came around, ‘Oh is this where it fell?’ You know. NH: Autopilot. JBF: All our aircraft were full of holes but -. BW: So they must presumably have baled out. JBF: They’d baled out. Yeah. BW: And left it to fly on. JBF: Well I wouldn’t say it was common baling out but we could look in, we watched the Liberator on fire in the air and suddenly five or six of the crew jumped out in parachutes and you know it was all part of the course if you know what I mean. It wasn’t, and the flying bomb was the same, we were walking into, at Staughton walking into the cookhouse, 4 o’clock in the morning. We’d done the op. It was all buttoned up and ready and there was an erk leaning on the side of the door smoking a cigarette. He said, ‘Do you want to see a flying bomb?’ So we said, ‘Ok,’ you know so he said, ‘Just turn around and watch that,’ and there was a light and a putt putt putt putt putt putt putt and then suddenly it stopped. The only flying bomb I saw was just that one. BW: So thinking back to your experience of Bomber Command and looking back at it how do you feel the service has been commemorated? Is it, it is getting better or - JBF: I was disappointed to start with because I did hear that somehow or other Bomber Command was pegged out, you know. Pushed around the back because it wasn’t right bombing Germans you know. Bombing civilians and all that. And I was delighted to see that they’d got this commemoration up to the air crew in London and of course Eric Brown, my cousin, he was killed and my friend Eric [McKim?], he was killed. Both aircrew. Both on these. NH: Missions. BW: And so from the Green Park Memorial to the Centre that’s going to be at Canwick Hill did you get to the unveiling of the Memorial - JBF: Oh no. BW: Last year. JBF: I’ve never been in any kind of Association like, you know, old comrades and all that. I’ve been to two or three reunions but you were only friends in that, once you’ve, you were all looking at each other. Perfect strangers. NH: Yeah. JBF: You know, solicitors were looking at accountants and accountants were looking at clerks and clerks were looking at petrol attendants or – NH: Yeah. JBF: Garages. NH: Had nothing in common by then did you? JBF: I remember two. NH: Who was the guy that you, there was the fella with a ‘tache wasn’t there that sort of set himself up as a, as a leading light in that thing and you said he was, you knew him anyway, there was a guy that sort of ran it or tried to get - JBF: Oh yes. Yeah. Well - NH: That organised the reunions. JBF: Organised the reunions. Yeah, well. NH: Who was that fella? JBF: To be honest except for Handley and Dom and Clive and Bill Gill, that was our little gang, and we all went to the reunions, we went to two reunions but there was nothing in common. BW: Right. JBF: We had nothing in common. Pat Handley was a big lorry driver on the motorways. Dom worked in a garage. I don’t know what Clive did. And I went back to office work. BW: Yeah. JBF: And the friendship was just at the time you know. In Meiktila for instance Handley had the brilliant idea. Japanese built the bunkers for their aircraft and of course there’s a trench around where they got the air to make the bunker so Handley has this brilliant idea he won’t bother with pegs and that he’ll just put the tent over one of these bunkers which is great except for the monsoon started. He’s standing in two foot of water and instead of rushing to help him we all died laughing, you know. NH: Yeah. BW: And so you’ve yet to see the memorial spire to Bomber Command crew at Canwick Hill at Lincoln where - JBF: Is it really? BW: So you’ve yet to go and see that. JBF: Do I? NH: Well he can’t get around much these days. BW: Yeah. NH: That’s the problem. BW: Yeah. NH: He’s not very mobile. BW: Yeah. NH: Are you? So you - JBF: Oh no. I’m housebound you know. BW: Yeah. JBF: I can’t go out. NH: Yeah. BW: Yeah. NH: He gets to his art. BW: That’s a shame. NH: He painted all these. BW: These pictures on the wall. NH: Yeah. JBF: There’s, there’s - BW: [?] JBF: The one that’s see the latest underneath that see that one. BW: Yeah. JBF: Of the skyscrapers, right at the bottom, beside the little girl. BW: Yes. This one. JBF: That’s, Tim’s got that one. That was the last one I painted. NH: So that’s, that’s as far as he gets these days. JBF: You know they’re sort of this size. BW: They’re wonderful paintings. NH: Yeah. BW: Ok. NH: They’re his. BW: Ok. I think that is all the questions that I have for you Jack unless there is anything else that you want to add. NH: The only other thing is you mentioned my mum. Didn’t you used to meet up? She was at Bletchley and you used to meet up. JBF: She was at Bletchley Park and I was at Little Staughton and we arranged to meet and I used to go to Bedford I think it was, catch the train and we’d meet. She’d bring a WAAF friend and invariably we went to the pictures and I never ever saw the film. I fell asleep immediately because I’d come off duty to get there so I’d got myself washed and dressed and in my best blue and out and we used to go to the pictures and I never saw a film because I just fell asleep. NH: Did you ever know what she was doing at Bletchley? I mean. JBF: No. I only knew what she was doing about 1960. NH: You knew she was there though. JBF: Yeah. NH: Yeah. JBF: It was very very - NH: Oh absolutely. JBF: Yeah. NH: That’s right. JBF: It was like the Oboe. The start was very, you know. BW: And they were told not to speak about it and many of them didn’t for you know sixty years - JBF: Well 1960. BW: Let alone thirty. JBF: The first time I even mentioned the word you know. I don’t even like to say it now to be honest. BW: Different times. NH: Absolutely. BW: Right. Ok. I think that is everything for the interview so on behalf of the Bomber Command Centre thank you very much your time Jack. It’s been a pleasure. JBF: Here’s the, do you want to have a look at some of the pictures? BW: I’ll have a look at some of the - JBF: Let’s see what’s in here. BW: Items. NH: So what is this centre? BW: It’s going to be a digital archive for the audio and any documents that - NH: Yeah. BW: People hand over. JBF: That’s the kind of terrain in Burma. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Jack Brown Franklin Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Brian Wright Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-03-31 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 01:51:22 Audio recording Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AFranklinJB160331 PFranklinJB1616 Description An account of the resource Jack grew up in Liverpool. His brother was the famous ballet dancer, Frederick Franklin CBE. He describes the Liverpool May Blitz and the paper merchants’ firm, where he worked, being bombed. He returned to his job after the war. After the Local Defence Volunteers, Jack joined the RAF in September 1941. He trained at RAF Cosford on Merlin engines, followed by an air gunnery school with Blenheims. He preferred Merlins and was posted to 109 Squadron at RAF Wyton, a Pathfinder squadron, as an engine mechanic. His Mosquito was the first to do an operation with Oboe, over which they were sworn to secrecy. He describes his role and his admiration for the Mosquito. Jack details the maintenance and checks they would do. His aircraft carried out 111 operations. Jack then went to RAF Marham and RAF Little Staughton. Jack wanted to go overseas and was posted to 28 Squadron, a reconnaissance unit, flying Hurricane IICs. From Rachi in India, he went to Burma, passing through Worli transit camp. He went to Tamu, Kalaymyo, Ye-U, and Sadaung, near Mandalay. The Japanese shot down some aircraft. They went on to RAF Meiktila and he describes his accommodation, insects and scorpions and a distressing encounter with some Japanese corpses. Jack went on to Rangoon where they changed over to Spitfire IXs and were there when war ended. He describes the Rangoon armistice and surrender of the Japanese. They went to the Malaya transit camp, Siam, and Penang Island. After six months’ rest, they went to Kuala Lumpur and started educational vocational courses. He received his demobilisation number and went to RAF Changi in Singapore, returning to Liverpool. Jack outlines the heavy price paid by Bomber Command. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Julie Williams Sally Coulter Maureen Clarke Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Civilian Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Cambridgeshire England--Norfolk England--Lancashire England--Merseyside England--Liverpool Burma Burma--Meiktila Burma--Mandalay Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1941 1941-09 1942 1943 1944 1945 109 Squadron bombing civil defence crash demobilisation fitter engine flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel home front Home Guard Hurricane Lancaster military living conditions military service conditions Mosquito Oboe Pathfinders perception of bombing war RAF Little Staughton RAF Marham RAF Wyton Spitfire training https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/484/8367/PBunceFSG1609.jpg 4fe6a915da9d42b5678afa0adccd7080 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/484/8367/ABunceFSG161108.mp3 c0704c95f5fe0c449e29736dbba3fd70 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Bunce, Sidney Frederick Sidney George Bunce F S G Bunce Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Bunce, FSG Description An account of the resource Seven items. An oral history interview with Sidney Bunce (b. 1925, 3006260 Royal Air Force) notes, service material and four photographs. He served as an engine mechanic with 115 Squadron at RAF Witchford and at RAF Wratting Common with 195 Squadron. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Sidney Bunce and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-11-08 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is the eighth of November two thousand and sixteen, and I’m in the village of Thornborough near Buckingham with Sid Bunce, and we’re going to talk about his time as an engineer in the RAF. So, what were your earliest recollections of life Sid? FB: My early recollections, well, I was born in Lower End, Thornborough and, from then on, I stayed there until I was, ten years old and then by this time I had a brother Harold, he’s eight years younger than me, and er, we moved out of the Lower End into Bridge Street in Thornborough, and, Mother died in September nineteen thirty-six. I stayed with my Father, my brother he was, he went around to the police house where my Grandparents on the Baker side, my Mother’s side, they lived, and he was bought up with my Grandparents and an aunt, who was still unmarried and living there [pause] I was, I started school at Thornborough and I stayed there until I was eleven years old and took the eleven plus, and I, and I failed the eleven plus in so far as I got half way through, and in those days, I think if you, there were so many, erm, seats set aside at the [unclear] school, so that if you, if you got, if you didn’t get the full, er, the full marks that were required you could pay to go to school, but obviously my Father he couldn’t afford to do that. So, I went to what was called then, the Buckingham senior school, I stayed there until I was fourteen. When I left school in July, the war broke out in September nineteen thirty-nine, I wanted to be a motor mechanic and one Saturday afternoon my Father and I went up on the bus from Thornborough to Buckingham and saw a Mr Ganderton, who had a small garage. Unfortunately, the job had gone by the time we got there, so, went up to Cantells in West Street where my cousin Cyril worked as a shop assistant, and from there, he, my Father asked him if he knew of anyone who wanted a boy, and he said, the only one he knew of was Bert Campion who was a manager of E C Turner. He said, he wanted an errand boy, and er, so, we went to see Bert Campion and he asked me a few questions and er, I, he asked me when I could start, and I started work there on the Monday. I had about, I think it was, [pause] roughly about four months and I used to have to do the rounds, the deliveries, on a, each day in any case, and on this particular Saturday, Mr Campion he said, I want you to go across to Adcock’s and I want you to get a white jacket and an apron, and I did that and when I got back he said, I’m going to start you off serving in the shop, so for about a month, or so, I can’t remember, about a month anyway, he, only had one shop assistant and he sacked him and he put me into the, promoted me into the, as a shop assistant. I was very grateful to him in actual fact, because he taught me the bacon trade, and if you, I think if you gave me a side of bacon I could still, I could still bone it and cut it up as a, anyway, I stayed there until, I started to work there at eight shillings a week, that’s 40 pence now isn’t it, and by the time I was sixteen, I was getting a pound a week, and one of my best pals he was at a different place earning more money than I, but eventually, when I started work my Father was concerned for what I would do for a midday meal, because I was working in Buckingham, and I had an aunt and uncle who lived in Buckingham, and I went there for my lunch, from then until I went and joined the air force. But, [pause] I was upset in so far that I wasn’t earning very much money, and eventually my uncle said that they wanted a boy up in the garage at the United Dairies at Buckingham, and I started there, and I was in, I started in the garage. I learnt to drive on a milk lorry, I used to round on the milk, collecting milk and from then on [pause] Where have I got too? [pause] Yes, I started work at the United Dairies and I stayed there until I was called up in the air force, but in between times, the ATC was formed at Buckingham and I joined the ATC, and er, when I was seventeen I volunteered for aircrew, but I wanted to be a flight engineer, and actually the flight mechanics engine course which I did, I believe that was one of the training for flight engineer. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I didn’t, I was put on the volunteer reserve, told to wait for my call up, and I was eighteen on June the twelfth and I was in the air force on August the twenty four, joining at Padgate where I did what we called the square bashing and after that I was er, went to Blackpool, stationed at fourteen eighteen, er, 48 Osborne Road [unclear] shore and erm, we were taken by bus or coach to Squires Gate where we did the training as a flight mechanic engines. When I, it was an eighteen-week course and when I passed I was posted to 115 Squadron at Witchford. [background noise] I stayed there until 195 Squadron was reformed and they took our flight, C Flight of 195, er of 115, and called it A Flight of 195 and after the squadron was fully operational, for a month there were two squadrons operating out of Witchford, and then, 195 Squadron was transferred to Wratting Common. Theres an interesting story about that because there’s a Wratting and there’s West Wickham and other villages, and apparently, this is true anyway, at erm, when Wratting Common was opened in 1940, 1943 they called it West Wickham, and from my understand, the signals were getting crossed with High Wycombe, which is Bomber Command Headquarters, and so they renamed it as Wratting Common. I was there until the end of the war, when we were, when 195 was disbanded, from then I went to Mildenhall for a month, then I was put on an overseas posting, went to Blackpool, but did, was taken off before we were drafted out. Then I was posted to Wing and when Wing was closed down I moved to Silverstone, and we were the last unit in Silverstone when they closed Silverstone. We went up to Swinderby and then that was the end of my service, I went to Kirkham and that was where I was demobbed on April the first 1947. CB: Okay, we’ll pause there for a moment [recording paused] CB: So, that’s a good trail of what you were doing. When you joined the RAF you’d been in the ATC so how did that prepare you for what you, what came next? FB: Well, in actual fact, I joined the ATC because I wanted to go in the air force, I didn’t want to go in the navy, into the navy I’m not a lover of the sea, not sailing anyway, and as far as the army was concerned and after what I’d seen of my poor Father went through in the First World war, in his health. I was interested in aircraft anyway, and so I joined the ATC. We had a very good warrant officer in charge, Mike Westly, he was a very good instructor and taught us the basics of learning to, er, foot drill, not rifle drill, we didn’t have anything to do with rifles, and so of course when I went on my interview for the air force I didn’t have any problems at all with the foot drill. Rifle drill came quite easy, and it, think it really put me on a good footing for service in the air force, in the air force CB: So, when you were doing your initial training, erm, then what did you actually do in that initial training at Padgate, activities? You had to do the drill, but what did you do overall? FB: Well, erm, [pause] let me see CB: So, it was learning about the RAF? FB: Yes, we had to, you know, get kitted out and obviously we had to do our spit and polishes, record it CB: Of your boots? FB: The erm [pause] I remember we have to make sure with our shoes that they were highly polished and the buttons, we used to have to clean our buttons and [unclear] issued with erm, a kit for cleaning and also for, if I remember rightly sort of doing simple needlework, in so far as sewing on badges or whatever, that kind of thing CB: And cleaning your FB: We had some, we had some sport, that actually, that, if I remember rightly, that was an eight week course, yes, eight week course, actually we were there, I was there ten weeks, but that was the fact that we didn’t start training straight away, for whatever reason, I don’t know, I also know that Warrington was the nearest town and we weren’t allowed to go in there, apparently there’d been some problems with the Americans, [laughs] think fighting or whatever, something like that, so I think it was actually, we were put out of bounds, I didn’t miss that anyway. But after the, after that, if I remember rightly, we came home on seven days leave and then had to report back to erm, Blackpool CB: So, Blackpool was the base for technical training for you, for engineering? FB: Yes, well yes, Blackpool, we were bused down to Squires Gate into the airfield, and we did our training in one of the hangars, which consisted of, that was eighteen-week course, it composed of fortnightly VV’s as they called it, verbal verification, and the first fortnight we were given [laughs] a lump of metal and a file, and we had to file this lump of metal into whatever shape we were told to do, and that lasted for a fortnight, and after the fortnight you had a verbal verification. So, asked various questions on the, what you’ve been doing for that fortnight, and if you passed you went on to the next stage, if you failed you stayed on and were put back for another fortnight, and if you failed you were kicked out. Fortunately, all of our entry, not one failed. But, after the first fortnight, um, oh I’m a bit hazy on how it worked now, but the next, the next fortnight you had another verbal verification and you had to get a percentage of the questions asked, right and then you went on to the next stage. And I well remember, that eventually, we got to where the stage where we had to dismantle an engine, and one of our entry, he always had the top marks, most of us used to struggle through, and get through the minimum marks required to continue. He was always on top and he, and when we came to taking the engine, dismantling the engine, and we were taught how to take it apart and put them all in sections so that you knew when you went to replace it and put them back, he, he was hopeless, but anyway he did manage to get through and eventually at the end, the last fortnight, I was, erm, revision, and so, we revised all that we’d been trained to do and erm, then you had to go and, if I remember rightly, there was all these various parts out on benches and you had to identify them and what they did, and all the rest of it, and I passed out as an AC2, which meant, the majority of us did, but this, this, funny enough, this chap who wasn’t very good at dismantling engines and reassessing them, he passed out as an AC1 [laughs] and he went straight on to train as an instructor. But, I was posted to 115 Squadron [pause] CB: So, you come to the end of the course and what do they do as a formality in documentation and parade? FB: Do you mean, I can’t remember having anything, anything to say that you, I can’t remember, I don’t think we had anything to CB: I was just thinking of when you get posted to a squadron, they want to know you’re competent, and you might do that with a passing out certificate FB: I can’t recollect having a pass out certificate CB: Might be in your service record, we’ll have a look. Okay, so you passed out there, there was a marching parade was there, to mark the end of the course? FB: Er, oh yeh, well of course, so yes, we were [laughs] during the course at Padgate, then you had the parades CB: Yeh FB: On the Sunday, you had the parade on Sunday and so forth, and the band, I used to like, we had a pipe band, I used to like marching behind the pipe band rather [laughs] than a brass band or a silver band CB: So, you are formed up on the parade square, there are separate sections, and the ones who are passing out are supported by the following courses, is that right? And then you get reviewed by a reviewing officer [pause] and then you march past and the reviewing officer takes the salute, is that right? FB: Oh yes, we had to march past and salute, yes, I think that was [pause] as far as I remember, and that’s all it was CB: And then, after that, did they give you a bunfight? FB: No CB: Nothing, just disperse FB: No, we just passed out and got on with it CB: Yeh, how soon did you then report to the squadron, 115? FB: I came, yes, but I think I came home on seven days, I think it was seven days leave and then [pause] CB: So, when you FB: Yes, I had to, I had to report to RAF Witchford [pause] now I had, had a railway pass obviously, and had to go from Bletchley to Cambridge [pause] I can’t remember the next station CB: Cambridge up to Ely FB: Ely, that’s right. Oh yes, then we, we picked up, erm, a lorry CB: What was the rank and status that you had then? FB: I was AC2, AC2. While I was at Witchford, I had to, for erm, sort of erm, promotion if you call it that. I had to, an interview and was asked various questions on, well, what you knew and what you were capable of, and I passed for that, and I was AC1. I was still AC1 when we left Witchford before Wratting Common, and there again, one of the sergeants after we’d been there, been there a while, I took another exam if you like, and I passed that and became a LAC, and I was an AC for the rest of my service CB: When you arrived at Witchford, what process did they put you through in linking you with the squadron? FB: Well, one, obviously gone on parade and I can’t remember, but I was sort of allocated to this group with a, I’ve forgotten the sergeants name now, but erm, so I joined this, I joined this, basically the group, the small group was responsible for two aircraft, you know the pans were sort of, not too far away from one another, based round the airfield, and CB: The pans are where the aircraft are parked? FB: Actually stand, yeh, yeh, and as I was a sprog, newly trained, the sergeant, he put me with an older fitter, not much older, but name of Malcolm Buckingham, and we worked together on the same plane, from then right through until the end of the war, but, the sergeant, he was a very, very, very good sergeant, he knew exactly what you were capable of and he wouldn’t let you do anything until he knew you were capable of doing it, and the one of the things that you did have to make sure of when you was pulling the chocks away, to take, that you run backwards and not forward otherwise you [bang noise] you run into the propellers. Well, we did our daily inspections, DI’s, and obviously we did all the checking. If there had been any faults reported, minor faults that we could do, out on the flights, we did, if they were major they used to have to go into the hangars. But, when, as far as the operations was concerned, when, if you, normal working time was erm, eight till five, but if you were on what they called take off, you still worked from eight till five, then you went down to, well to have your meals, but you had to get back on to the air, onto the airfield an hour before take-off [pause] The crew, when the air crews were bought out and left in their different planes, I worked on A4D-Dog and the other one was A4C- Charlie, they were the two planes, but basically what happened, the aircrew came out and obviously they would have a look around, to check that everything was okay, and also inside, and when it was time to start up, one of us used to get up under the undercart, as we used to call it, under the wheels where the [unclear] gas pumps were, and there was two [unclear] gas pumps, there was one for the starboard inner and one for the starboard outer, one for port inner and one for the port outer, and you jumped up and one of you went up there and primed it, the other stayed on the trolley where the batteries were on the trolley, and when the skipper was ready to start up, he used to, well, obviously they were all, all, night operations, so if it was dark we used to get the skipper to just put his Nav lights on and off, so when I used to do the priming and when I used to press the button, and the start all four engines up, and they did the run up, we used to, when we were doing the DI’s in the morning we used to take them up to about three thousand revs a minute and then test the mags, switch each magneto off one at a time, and if there was a revs drop more than one hundred revs, then we had to do a change, a plug change. When they done there, when they done they’re run off, well, we used to take and pull the chocks out and away they went and we used to wait up there until all of them had taken off, and then as far as you were concerned you were finished until the following morning. But, if you were on all night as they called it, then the same procedure happened in as far as I you get up an hour onto the airfield, an hour before take-off and when they’d all gone you were able to go back to your billet or to the NAAFI, you couldn’t obviously, you couldn’t leave the airfield, and then you were told what the ETA was, and you would get on up to the airfield, an hour before they were expected back. I used to say to erm, well you, the, whoever you, whoever you see [unclear] I used to say to them, ‘flash D in morse, or C for Charlie’, then you knew which pan to put them on, and when they came and you put them on, on, on the pan, you used to get the ladder out, and they used to come out and you used to ask them if there was any snags, and if there were any snags, then you went and reported them to the flight office. After they’d gone, you used to go back and put the locking bars in, chocks underneath and shut it up and that was your, then you were finished, then you could go back and you had the following day off CB: When you talk about locking bars, these are the effectively the clamps that stop the control surfaces, FB: Stop it, yeh FB: So, in the wind they wont FB: That’s right CB: Flail around FB: That’s right CB: Right, okay. Now as an air mechanic, what was your specific role, because everybody mucked in, but actually you had a specific, which was engine was it? FB: Oh, engines CB: Yeh FB: Yes CB: Right FB: So, you see there was erm, there was two engine mechanics if you like CB: Yeh FB: And, a rigger for air frame, sort of for each, and obviously the, all the ancillary, so the armourers, the electricians and all of those, and of course did their own, their own job [pause] CB: For each aircraft, so that there would be a Chiefy, he’d be a flight sergeant? FB: Well CB: Or what? ’Cos the gang effectively FB: The gang, it was a sergeant CB A sergeant, yes FB: Sometimes there was two sergeants and a corporal, it just all depends how it was, but erm, yes, there was a sergeant in charge of you CB: Yes FB: In your little gang CB: So, in the team, the gang, you had a sergeant, two engine mechanics, a rigger, an electrician? FB: Well, there was a, yes, an electrician and of course CB: And the armourer FB: But when they bought the bombs out CB: Yes FB: The armourers, they, they obviously, they did the bombing up CB: Yeh FB: Winching up into the bomb bays CB: So, the bombs came on trolleys? FB: [inaudible] CB: How did they get the bombs up into the bomb bay? FB: Well, they put them, obviously the bomb doors were open CB: Yep FB: One of the armourers would go up into the plane and they sort of winched them up, they’d draw them up on CB: An electric winch? FB: Yes, draw them up on that, and then when they were secured, erm CB: Where was the winch operated from? FB: More often, but it all depends what the target was going to be, where they were going, but generally it was, it could be a load of incendiaries CB: Yep FB: And then perhaps a four thousand pounder or an eight thousand pounder, and then they got larger, but that was generally the load. Sometimes it would be thousand pounders, it just all depended on what the target was going to be and obviously the crew would never tell you where they were going, you wouldn’t expect them to, but they might say where they’d been but very, very, very rarely, you could get a rough idea where they may be going or what area, because of the bomb load and the fuel load, because depending on, I think if I remember right, erm, Berlin it would be almost full tanks, if I remember right, I think the Ruhr, depending where it was, sometimes it would be about seventeen fifty gallons, coming er, coming nearer to home it would be fifteen, yeh, fifteen hundred gallons, if I remember when we were [unclear] up for D Day, we were doing two ops. We used to have to get up at four o’clock in the morning er, and get up on the airfield, 1944 that was a really cold winter [laughs] we had to, well, the engines, we didn’t, we weren’t too badly off because we’d put a load of lanolin grease on the leading edges of the props and the erm, main plane, but the poor old riggers they used to have to go and de-ice the Perspex and all the rest of it [laughs] What that consisted of, we engine ones used to have a can of antifreeze, a drum of antifreeze and a stirrup pump, and the airframe, they used to have to go up onto the, onto the, on the main plane obviously, and erm, they used to have to spray the Perspex to clear them, that was quite a job CB: What did they do? How did they clear them, they didn’t just scrape them did they? FB: No, it was just a stirrup pump, you see, you spray it CB: Yes, but what were they spraying? Was that antifreeze as well? FB: Oh yes, because they got to clear the you know, the cockpit CB: Yeh FB: And the mid upper gunner, and all the rest of it. Tail end Charlie he was [laughs] I wouldn’t have wanted to do that job CB: The rear gunner? FB: Hmm, no CB: You mentioned about the leading edges, so on the props and on the leading edges of the main plane FB: Lanolin grease CB: Right, yeh, right, so you spread that on with your hands or best with stick, yeh, okay, and that worked, did it? FB: Oh yes, that worked, yeh, yeh CB: What about things like the Peto head, you really couldn’t put anything on that could you? FB: No, no CB: Okay, so starting, you’ve got a trolley ack FB: Yeh CB: How do you go about starting? FB: Well CB: So, the trolley ack being the trolley accumulator FB: Well, that’s plugged in, its, its plugged in, as I say you go up CB: Into the engine bay, is it? FB: Hmm CB: Right FB: Then, one of you, as I say, went up on the on top of the wheel in other words CB: Yes FB: Undercarriage, and there are these [unclear] gas pumps, and when they, the skipper was ready to start up, you used, you used to prime them, er, basically it was more like a choke on a car I would think, but you used to give them, they probably need perhaps about six or eight pumps, each pump, and while you were doing that, of course the, your mate, he was pressing the button to, where it was plugged in, to turn the engines over CB: What was this stuff that gave the extra urge, it wasn’t an ethanol something, what was the material, what was the erm, fluid that you were pumping in to give it that surge of FB: Oh, that was, that was petrol CB: It was just neat petrol? FB: Hmm CB: Right FB: ‘Cos you got your, obviously you got your blowers as we used to call it, it’s at the trunk, that erm, built it up CB: Yeh FB: You got your mixture and, away she went CB: So, what was the engine starting sequence? FB: Erm, you start the starboard engine, starboard engine, inner engine first CB: Right, what FB: Where the hydraulics are, so if that didn’t, obviously if you hadn’t any hydraulics you didn’t have brakes or anything else. And er, [unclear] it all depended on what, on what the pilot wanted to do, but that one was first, then probably it would be the starboard outer, because if you started off on that side, well obviously, you’ve got to go round to the other side to start the others up, so, yeh CB: So, you moved the trolley ack each time or was there one trolley ack each side? FB: Well, no, you moved it and plugged it in CB: Yeh, okay FB: I nearly always went up on, I nearly always went up on the wheel and did the pumping CB: Now, this is pretty close to the propellers, so what was the procedure to make sure people didn’t walk into a propeller? FB: Well actually, when er, when all the engines were running and they were ready to move off, you had to make sure that your chock, it was no good you see, you had the rope CB: Attached to the chock? FB: From the, attached to the chock CB: Just to explain, the chock is holding the wheel FB: But, the point is this, it was no good if you, where the knot was CB: Yes FB: Where it was knotted, it was no good putting the knot and straight through there, because you wouldn’t move them, you could not pull it out, ‘cos normally the wheels would move just a little bit onto the chock you see, so what you had to do, you put your chock and you run your, from here, round the front of the chock and back there, and then when you pulled it, you see, that pulled it out like that, if you did, you couldn’t get it out, if you did, it was a straight pull, it had to go round and pull it out CB: Right, so, the FB: And when you did that, as you pulled it, you ran backwards, no good running forwards, you ran backwards and that was it CB Right, and there’s a chock each side of the wheel? FB: Oh yeh CB: And when FB: There was, just in front of the wheel, but each wheel had the chock obviously CB: Not just at the front FB: Yeh CB: Okay, at what point would the chocks normally, would they have been put in? When would the chocks normally have been put up against the wheel? FB: Oh well, you put the, when the er, a plane for instance would come back afterwards, you, you put the chocks on straight away CB: When its landed? FB: When its landed, yeh CB: So, the plane is a light at that point and when you start it up its heavy because it’s got the bombs and the fuel on, so that pushes the tyre down onto the chock FB: Well, just CB: Making it difficult to pull away FB: Yes, as I say it was straight pulled, it wouldn’t come CB: No FB: You had to do it then and there CB: Right FB: Yeh CB: So, at that point what does the ground crew do as the aircraft starts up to taxiing? FB: Well, the er, as I say, when er, when er, they started up, done the run up, it was out turn to go off round the perimeter track to the runway, then erm, those of you there, you always used to stop until they’d all gone off CB: Watch them go? FB: And er, well, there’s a little bit I’ll tell you about CB: Okay FB: Er, later on, erm, what else, as I say, if there were any snags, but you went back to the flight office anyway CB: Right FB: When both planes were back, and you went and you reported, and of course the crew had been taken off for debriefing, and, when you, when your two planes are back you were finished, you could go back. You used to go back and have a meal and then go into bed and have the rest of the day off CB: Yes, I’m just trying to get the sequence here because, to give people an idea of just how it went. So, at take-off, you, they’ve done the run up, checked and tested the engine, run up, chocks away FB: Yes CB: And then, what do you do as a ground crew, do you watch them go and then go for meal or how did that work? FB: Just watch them, yes CB: ‘Cos the FB: I think everybody, I was taken all round the circuit CB: Yes FB: We always used to stop and watch them go off until they’d all gone. There was one incident [pause] obviously they, when they took off they used to go round and then they used to rendezvous where they had to go before [unclear] rendezvous to go out on their raid, and one night there was a [laughs] an awful crump and er, they erm, there was a four thousand pounder, something had gone wrong and it CB: A cookie fell out? FB: It fell out, yeh [laughs] oh dear, well, these things happened. The worst thing that happened, I’ve got it, I marked it there to show you. German night fighters used to, would follow them back. When I was with 115, they shot two of our planes down, because obviously they didn’t always come back together, they’d come at intervals and you stayed there until your two planes had come back. Fortunately, touch wood, old Buck and I, we never lost a plane, but that was exceptional er, I suppose, but this particular night they, you see, what they did when they came back, well, they had to wait their turn to land, and so, obviously they used to do a circuit, and it was on one of these circuits that this plane was coming in to land and er, this night fighter shot it down, they were all killed, they all lost their lives, both crews, they both, but at different intervals, the same night, we lost two CB: What was the reaction of their individual ground crews to the loss of their aircraft? FB: well, I don’t really know because I never lost one, but I suppose they’d be, I presume they’d be allocated another, I don’t really know about that CB: I wondered if it was spoken about when you were in the NAAFI or somewhere, or did people ever talk about it, or did they just keep on? FB: No, no, they didn’t talk about it, no CB: Right, now what about accommodation, what did you have in? FB: We were in nissen huts CB: Right, how many in a nissen hut? FB: Oh, what would it be [pause] one, two, three, four [pause] about twelve I think CB: And how was the nissen hut heated? FB: Oh, a stove, a coke stove [pause] Ah, [emphasis] we used to have a stove, up in the, in the erm, [pause] in the hut, where we, you know, kept the tools and all the different stuff in there, there was a stove in there, to sort of, keep it warm, and [pause] there is, have this coke, I mean, sort of filled it up, lit it and basically that was [pause] I mean for a lot of the time, for a lot of the morning anyway, erm, you was still working, you know, you were doing your DI’s you see, daily inspection, coal was off and of course with the Lancaster, you had to get up on these gantry’s because there was no, it was different to when I was on Wellingtons, had to, when I got round to [unclear] and Silverstone, I mean you could get on there, used to slide down the back, down the main frame on the Wellington [laughs] we used to get up there, on a Lancaster you couldn’t, oh dear CB: So FB: 44, that was a cold winter CB: So, how did you deal with the cold on the flight line, in other words, out on the dispersal? FB: Well, you, you see, you had mittens on because you can’t really feel with gloves on, it, you had to keep your fingers sort of [inaudible] [laughs] the weirdest thing was ever, if you had to do a plug change, and if you happened to drop a plug down in the trunk, of course they were v engines, you see, you could drop one down there, and that used to be a dickens of a job to get the blooming thing back out [laughs] to put it in, ah, but, at least they say live and learn, and you did CB: You talk about a plug change, that’s because you’d get misfire was it or was there a sequence where you changed all the plugs? FB: Yeh well, if the er, if the, obviously your magneto, it’s like a dynamo, in so far as supplying the spark CB: Yes FB: But if er, they dropped back there, then obviously, it’s erm, you wouldn’t need a, it wouldn’t need a, very doubtful it would be the magneto, so it would be a plug or plugs, that weren’t firing properly to do that. We didn’t have a lot of trouble, I mean that old Merlin, it was a lovely engine to work on, no problem at all really CB: In what way was it good to work on? FB: Pardon? CB: In what way was it good to work on? FB: Well, it was [pause] the construction of it, mind you, everything it was bonded, so, when you, when you took your coverings off to do your, check them, you had to check them, every one of those, and if there was, if there was any bonding broken, then obviously that had to be replaced, you see, it was for erm, obviously for the electricity, for it was a static electricity, you didn’t want anything like that, with the petrol, I mean that was a hundred octane petrol, so that was green and that was pretty horrible [laughs] oh dear CB: Did anybody get fires on the ground? FB: Fires? CB: Engine fires or any kind of? FB: No, erm, now where was that? [pause] I think that was at Wratting Common. The plane had been, been in the hangers for overhaul or whatever, I don’t know what, and the, they’d obviously had the under propeller off for some reason or other, and when they bought it out and they started it, it come off, flew off, erm but I only, I didn’t actually see it, I heard that it happened, but er, say, that plane A4D-Dog, that’s the one where this crew did a complete tour of ops, actually, that went on to do a hundred and five ops CB: Did it FB: But, by the time that stayed behind on, because it was on C-Flight, by that time, er, when we were, 195 was reformed, we had worked on it, Buck and I worked on it and I think they had done, either fifty nine or sixty ops, but that went on, on the history of it, to do one hundred and five, which erm, when, well when the, of course I was at 195 at Wratting Common then, but erm, when the Dutch, when they were in that, after the invasion had started and they were liberated, we went on what they called Manna, which was dropping the food supplies to them. So, we went on that and then after that, when that had finished, we started bringing back the prisoners of war CB: Operation Exodus FB: Yes CB: Okay, let’s just pause there for a moment, you just have a breather [interview paused] FB: There’s one thing CB: These gantries you had to use? FB: We never had to do was wear a ring CB: Ah FB: Because if you wore a ring and you slipped, that would rip your finger off, you see, so, I never wore a ring anyway, I’ve never ever worn a ring in that case, but you never wore a ring. It’s like a lot of things, its common sense, I mean, there are things but obviously you shouldn’t do but if you do, well you suffer by it, really. We used to, well, I mean, oh crikey, I was only eighteen [laughs] eighteen, nineteen years old, I mean, we used to clamber up them no problem at all [pause] CB: How safe were these gantries you used? FB: Oh, they, they were safe enough, if I mean er, it was just a matter of climbing up on the, onto and getting on the platform, yeh they were safe enough, you didn’t have, well I didn’t hear of anyone getting injured by falling off them or anything like that CB: So, on the flight line on the dispersal, you had a team of people we talked about just now, what would make it necessary for the aircraft to go into a hangar? FB: If they had a major, for instance if there, had been on a raid, and they were badly shot up or anything like that, well, obviously they would go in, into for repair, er, if an engine, well, if anything really, but engines in particular, if there any major fault or [unclear] then you couldn’t do that, that was somethings obviously, you could do minor repairs on the flights but if it was a major repair well it had to go into the hangar because you just wouldn’t have the facilities or anything else to do it CB: What about engine changes? FB: One thing you used, well, as far as engine changes were concerned, I never experienced an engine change because as I say, the planes that I worked on we didn’t lose any, that Malcolm Buckingham and I worked on, but erm, I remember, if, if, if they had been out on a raid and they couldn’t get back to their base, [background noise] there was at Woodbridge, there’s two airfields, one was the Americans on and the other one which was what, we used to call them the crash land station, basically it was one plane that couldn’t get back to their main airbase, but they could get down there, and they used to go down there. And, what happened in that er, base, although obviously I never experienced it, but if a plane didn’t get back to, for instance, Witchford or to Wratting Common, if they didn’t get back there then the crew that serviced them they used to go over to service them and put them right and then they flew back to the base CB: And, did that ground crew take, erm, road transport or did they get flown there? FB: I think they took road transport. I’m not too sure about that because as I say I never experienced it but that’s what happened CB: How many times did you have the opportunity of flying, in the aircraft you serviced? FB: Well, no, if erm, if we are doing an air test you could go up if you wanted to, but it just all depends CB: Why were air tests conducted, what was the purpose? FB: When you went on an air test, obviously they would test the engines, so what they used to do, was, switch one off, off at a time and you know, get the reaction of erm, for instance mag drop, things like that. They used to try and test all four, one at a time, and then they would feather them, you know, and of course when you feather them, then of course you un feathered them to start them up again and all that and the old Lanc, that would fly on one engine, but obviously it was forever losing height, but they did these air tests just to see that everything that had been done was working as it should do. I didn’t go on many, but erm CB: Where would you sit when you went up on an air test? FB: Well, of course, with the full crew there, you would sit on the floor kind of thing [laughs] that weren’t very comfortable CB: No, thinking of the FB: And the poor old, the rear gunner, he was the worse off really because he was so far away from the rest of the crew you see, you’ve got your pilot and then your flight engineer, er, your bomb aimer observer and then of course the wireless operator had got his own little bit and the navigator [pause] [unclear] because er, well it depended on where they were going, but you get eight or nine hours, stuck up in one of those and [pause] no, I don’t think its er [pause] It’s marvellous what they did actually CB: You said you originally wanted to be flight engineer but once you got on the flight line FB: I must, I must admit that when I’d done my training and I went out on a and saw what was happening, I thought, well I thank my lucky stars I don’t, of course I was on the volunteer reserves, so if ever they did want a [pause] sort of a flight engineer, I suppose I would have been called up, because the flight engineer, as I say, the flight engineer as far as I can understand, their engine training was similar to what we did as a flight mechanic engines, it was just the extra, erm, you know with the checking the fuel pumps and that, switching the switch in the tanks and er, and I think that they did a little bit of basic flying if the pilot, you know, got injured or killed or anything like that, to take over, and er, but, so no it must have been. You could tell and get quite a good idea of, I mean, no target was easy, I mean there was always a danger there, but you could get a pretty good idea, if they were quite chirpy when they came out it was one of the not so difficult raids they were going on, but if it were Berlin or anything like that or, always they were very quiet which you could understand CB: Yeh FB: ‘Cos they not only had to put up with night fighting, there was anti-aircraft guns, must have been horrible CB: How often did your two planes return with damage? FB: Er CB: And what was it? FB: [pause] Do you know I can’t remember, if they ever did come back with any damage that I worked on [pause] no, I know that was when we were at er, at Wratting Common, about 1944, one night I heard, when, when they started sending these erm, oh, doodlebugs over, but er, they sounded, their engine, it sounded like an old two stroke engine struggling up a hill, [laughs] up a hill, kind of thing, and er, and of course the thing was once the engine cut, they come down, and this particular night, I went to the Nissen huts and there was some windows at the end, but not the end in between sort of thing, and actually saw this old doodlebug going and the engine cut, and it went down and it fell, and it fell just outside of the airfield [laughs] oh dear, it was an experience CB: What was the most frightening part of your service, which would you say? FB: Most frightening? [pause] I don’t really know, I do recall one thing that was happening, now when they were winching, winching erm, [unclear] it was a four pounder, [unknown inaudible] FB: Four thousand pounder, I think that was when CB: A cookie FB: Loading a four thousand pounder up, and it dropped, and we ran, we ran, and then we suddenly realised that if it had gone off, if it had gone off, we wouldn’t have been there, but er, the trouble was with the, if the incendiaries fell, I think they only had to drop about nine inches before they, and they were in long canisters, and there was a sort of bars that when, I suppose, that when the bomb aimer pressed the tip, then I suppose these bars fell away and then they just fell down in a cluster, I don’t know CB: And er, you saw the, you were there when the crew got in the plane to go FB: Oh yes CB: And you were there when they came back, what sort of erm, relationship did you have with your ground crew with them? FB: Very good, very good, yeh CB: And so, did they talk to you when they landed? FB: As I say, they, [unclear] what they, you used to say, ask them if there were any snags, if there were they told you what they were, but erm, they didn’t say, they didn’t say a lot, I mean, they were just waiting for the lorries, or whatever they were using to take them back for debriefing and they would say they were tired and I don’t know what they experienced, you know CB: Quite FB: So, but er, other times, I mean, if they, sometimes they would come out, because they weren’t, if I think, I think that what they used to say that happen one day, two raids and then down one, of course they had the leave as well, they didn’t all have the leave at the same time, so they would, they er, say if the erm, pilot was on leave or something, there’d be another pilot take over. Quite often what happened, with a crew, when they come out and then, there was a new crew had been, er, sent to Witchford, the pilot would go as a, I think they call it, a second dicky or something like that, but they used to go out, they were taken out on their first raid CB: Just the pilot? FB: To get the idea that and what it was all about CB: What about the social life on the airfield? FB: Well, what we used to do if er, [pause] when you, well you see, you used to get up and have your breakfast and then get up back onto the flight, er onto the airfield and do your work, and in the evening you could go to the NAAFI, or down into the village into the pub, which quite often that’s what we did do, and erm, [pause] I can’t remember the other, we had a cinema, I can’t even remember going to the cinema anyway, probably we did, and of course we spent a lot of time in your billet writing letters, you know, home and that kind of thing CB: Did they run dances? FB: Erm, [pause] no, not that I’m aware of CB: Right, so Witchford we’ve talked a lot about, what was the difference, when you went to Wratting Common? FB: The difference? [emphasis] CB: Was your accommodation different or the same? FB: No, no it was still Nissen, still Nissen huts, much about the same as at Witchford, ‘cos erm, 115 of course that was one of the most successful and er, and suffered some of the heaviest losses during the war, but, at Wratting Common, I of course, I was nineteen, 1944, when we moved into, into er, Wratting Common, I can’t remember, I didn’t have all that long at Witchford actually, I’ve forgotten though. It was definitely 1944 when we moved over to Wratting Common anyway CB: Yes, so, you were at Wratting Common until FB: The war ended CB: The war ended, that is to say the war in Europe FB: Yes CB: Ended FB: Yes, yes CB: Okay, and so FB: I think we, I think, [pause] I think it was 1946 when we actually disbanded CB: The squadron disbanded? Yeh FB: [pause] I’ve got some [background noise] [inaudible] CB: And so, everybody stayed with the squadron and until the squadron disbanded, is that what you mean? FB: Yes CB: Yeh [pause] we are just looking at timings. So, what happened, er, we can look that up later, what happened when they decided to disband? How did that get announced? FB: Well, as, [laughs] as far as we were concerned, they said we were disbanded and that’s one thing I always regretted because I’d always worked with Malcolm Buckingham and we never exchanged addresses or anything else, meaning we didn’t keep in touch CB: Did you never? FB: No CB: Know what happened to him at all? FB: No, and when I, when we were on holiday, he came from a little village called Grundisburgh near er, that’s not that far away from Woodbridge, and we went to on holiday to er, Yarmouth or something, well down that way anyway, and I drove round, well, that was us and the two children, I drove round to this little village, and er, I went into the pub and I said does anyone know a gentleman called Malcolm Buckingham, and they said, oh no, never heard of him and that was as near as I got to actually ever finding him. The other one I palled up with, which is on the, on one of those photographs is erm, he was a Scotsman, ‘McKay the Jock McIver,’ and he lived at Thurso, and he used to get an extra days travelling for the distance he had to travel, but if the three of us were off duty at, at you know, we used to go down, generally used to go down the pub and have a pint or two and a sing song and that, ‘cos aircrew used to down in there as well you see. And erm, it was alright in the NAAFI, we used to go, you could go in the NAAFI. If I remember right, sometimes, and I think that was towards the end of the war anyway, if I remember right, they used to have this ‘housey, housey.’ as they used to call it in the old days, bingo, you know and that, but I think mainly we used to just go down the pub and have a pint. [laughs] I was trying to look see [pause] CB: So, so you had no control over your demob, they just decided when that would be? FB: Well, you, you had your group you see, I was fifty-five, when I, my group, when I got demobbed CB: In your grouping, yeh, which was, so you were demobbed on the first of April 1947 B: 1947, yeh CB: What did you do then? FB: Well, I came home and erm, you had accrued, erm, what was it? Fifty, I think fifty-six days, fifty-six days leave, er, yeh, and I think owed fifty pounds demob money [pause] it all depends, I think, but erm, fifty-six days leave, I think that was a, er, minimum, I think it probably, if you did more service than that or where ever you’d been, they may, I’m not sure about that, that may possible have been longer, but I think fifty-six was a, sort of a general thing CB: What did they give you in the way of clothing, when you were demobbed? FB: Oh yeh, you handed in your suit and you got kitted out with the, well, with shoes, socks, pants, vest, shirt, erm, now I think I’m not sure whether you could have a choice of a suit or these sorts of flannels and a jacket, I can’t remember, what did I have? I know one thing, that when I, when I joined up at Padgate, of course we had to send er, send erm, civilian clothes home, and mine never, mine never ever arrived, they were lost, which I think happened quite often, but er, yeh CB: So, you got your leave, you come back, then what? FB: I think I, yeh, I think I had a fourth, two months and then I went back to the United Dairies because they were duty bound, or anyone went back to their old job, or wanted to go back to their old job, I think the companies were duty bound to take them for six months. So, of course, I went back and er, [laughs] Jack Hancock, he said, ‘are you coming back in the garage with me?’ and I said, ‘I’d like to go driving if you’ve got a driving job,’ and that’s what I did. I stayed there until I was thirty four, and that was November nineteen fifty nine, I moved then, the only reason I moved was for more money, and I’d got a brother in law who works at Calvert, and he used to say, ‘you want to get on, you’ll be far better off coming to work for Calvert driving,’ and I said, ‘ah well,’ I said, ‘the problem is you get up on eight wheelers and you’ve [laughs] got to do nights out, and he said, ‘well, that won’t hurt you will it?’ But, anyway, that’s what happens, you started off on the small lorries, on the little old Albion’s CB: [inaudible] FB: G wagons, they were about two, what was it? two and a half thousand bricks, and then you went up onto the D, and then a K, then a L, and eventually onto eight wheelers. I had ten years on eight wheelers, I came off, my father in law had, had a stroke and er, and Mum she, she passed away, and he was living with us and, well, they were both living with us for a time, and er, he was getting a bit of a problem at night, they was having a bit of a problem dealing with him in the night, and erm, we’d got the two children of course, so I asked if I could be excused nights out, and they said, no you, that would cause a precedent if we do that, and the only answer to it is if you don’t want to do nights out, is you’ll have to come off eight wheelers, so I said, that’s what I’ll do then, but erm, I went on the stores like, the stores wagon and various jobs around the yard, and erm, when the old chap, when he died, but, see we used to start work at six until half past five, we used to do eleven hours a day, that was Monday to Saturday, and then we went down to five days a week, and erm, and eventually, ‘cos there was no motorways when I started at the Calvert, there, there was that short stretch of M1 that had opened in. I think that was in June nineteen fifty nine, I’m not sure and we never used the M1 anyway, but when they built the M4, and the M5 and the M6, we used all of those, and er, [pause] you had, before, before they were built and opened you had to stop to, wherever you were going, you had to stop on your, the route that you were supposed, for instance, if we were going down to, down into Wales, well, we used to go from Calvert to Oxford, from Oxford we used to go then into Cheltenham, Gloucester, Chepstow and then wherever in Wales it was, of course when they opened the M4, we were able to go from Calvert to Swindon, get on the M4, went down straight there, and so, and of course you used to get, when you were on nights out, you used to get your night out money, well er, when these motorways were opened, what would have been night out journeys, it was still night out journeys as far as the company were concerned, but you could get back almost to, you could get back to Aylesbury or Weston on the Green, depending where, and you could thumb a lift home and get back in the morning or whenever, and you used to get your night out money, well of course the company soon got wise about that, and so what we, there was this particular, this big map put in the driver’s room, and there was Calvert there like that, and then there was a five mile radius, up to hundred miles radius, and so, the farther you went, the more you earned, the more you were paid, and but, a lot of them soon got wise, and they thought if they could get two shorter journeys allocated to them, then they could do two journeys and they’d get twice as much money, you see, but I never bothered, by this time I was about fifty one, fifty two and I said to them, I said, to them one day, I’ve had enough of this cowboy driving and I’m going to find another job. As luck happens, I’m out every night, there was, you were put, the list and where you were going the following day, well, on the Friday, on this particular Friday, there was a notice on the notice board advertising a vacancy for a garage maintenance clerk, and I said to Tom Ridgeway who was the foreman at that time, I said, ‘I’m going to put in for that job Tom,’ ‘well,’ he said, ‘you can put in for it, whether you’ll get it or not I don’t know but you’ll have an interview anyway,’ and anyway I got the job and I went, and went onto the staff and I didn’t earn as much money, er salary weekly, but there were one or two perks and the best one actually, it was a non-contributory pension scheme, so when I, when I finished with them, I came out with a lump sum and a small pension, which I obviously still get, so that did me a lot of good in many ways CB: But had that pension started when you first joined? FB: When I first joined you paid in, you had to pay in for a pension CB: Oh right FB: You had to pay in for a pension CB: No, when you became staff FB: That was sort of one of the perks really, because CB: Non-contributory, right. So FB: So, I had, well I had twenty-seven and a half years all told, seventeen as driving you see and ten and a half with the garage maintenance staff CB: These eight wheelers were difficult to handle without power steering, were they? FB: Er? CB: The eight wheelers were difficult to handle without power steering? FB: Yes, there was no power steering on the ones I drove. I came off the road and they went over to these Volvo’s [unclear] were the ones we, they were good but you had this big old engine by the side of you in the cab you see, and it went thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, but erm, the later ones, by this time I was already off the road, but they, they did have power steering, the old eight wheelers, I used to, I never, I never, really did enjoy going down into Wales especially in the winter time, er, because they were, you know, they were building sort of up on the side of the mountain, I supposed you call it, I don’t know or whatever, but that used to be a job turning round ‘cos what we used to do, you see, you used to go down and the, they’d take, take anywhere they wanted the bricks and you set up and er, with the, before they started with the erm, forklifts and that, er, it was all unloaded or off loaded, and you had seven thousand bricks on an eight wheeler, and so, what they used to call the stick up, which was one, one row in the centre, down, and then over the side, you build it up, and then three [unclear] we used to call them, and so you used to take off half, and then turn round and take the other half off you see, well, when you were on, on the these, it needed a bit of moving, handling [laughs] CB: I can imagine. Before fork lifts, how did you load, who loaded the trucks in the first place? FB: Oh, the, they, the night shifts used to do that, they were mainly, mostly they were nearly all Italians, they used to be up at erm, Aylesbury, and then they, they said that er, where the old royal, when you went up to the hill, where the old royal hospital was, the other side of the road there, that was, and they used to say the Itie, erm, Italians, and someone, when I got out of bed they [unclear] can’t hear you [laughs] I don’t know, but yes, and they had a place over, oh, Bedford way, somewhere I think. [pause] It was well organised, it was a, it was a good company to work, they used to, when I came everywhere, they used to say, you keep your nose clean and you’ll be alright [laughs] CB: Well, the pay was quite good there, wasn’t it? FB: Oh yeh well, the first erm, when I left the United Dairies, I think I was getting ten pounds a, yeh, ten pounds a week, and the, and the first pay day I had at Calvert, and that wasn’t a full, that wasn’t a full week, and I had erm, fourteen pounds, and as you, and as you worked your way up from the small to the eight wheelers, and course eight wheelers, that was top, top rate of pay, but erm, the last week that I was actually driving, and of course by this time they started this erm, radius miles, that first, that was the last week that I was actually driving, that I earned one hundred pounds for the week, but erm, some of them used to earn that, it all depends, as I say, whatever journey they gave me I did, I didn’t rush around to try and get another journey here and there CB: Right FB: What I did was, whatever time it took me I did, and that was it, you know, I said, as I said to my wife, I’ve had enough of this cowboy driving and that would have been used to it CB: This is London Brick company? FB: That was London Brick company, but before as you see, they again, that was a well-run company, a well-run company, but when Sir Ronald Stewart retired as chairman, it seemed as it going downhill, I can’t remember who took over from him, but I don’t, and they started with training on all the systems, they had sort of a foreman and, well, had a foreman and a charge hand but then they, then they used to have a manager, and a manager and so on and so forth and all this, and I remember that they, the London Brick company, they put in a bid for it to buy Ibstock, which is Leicestershire, and that was, that was turned down, and not many months later, Hanson, put in a bid for London Brick, and that was turned down, and it was turned down two or three times and they had, they put in another bid and that was the sort of final bid, and there was a deadline when it had only got to be accepted or rejected for good. Now, I don’t know if it was true or not, but there was this er, rumour that went around that 48 hours before the deadline, that Hanson didn’t have enough shares to buy it, but it said, now I don’t know whether it was true or wasn’t true, or not, but they reckoned that one of the directors sold him his shares that gave him enough to get the, to get the owning of, and from then it went downhill, because, although the man’s not alive now, but he was nothing more than an asset stripper. He closed, he closed er, London Brick erm, and New Longville, closed that, at Calvert where they’d started doing this landfill, erm, he retained the, he retained the ground, but he shut, he sold the, and that was two, Shanks and McKeown CB: The dump, he sold too? FB: Yeh CB: Shanks and McKeown FB: For landfill, for landfill CB: For landfill, yeh FB: Yeh, er, then of course, Calvert went, everything [emphasis] is gone, Stewartby which is the main yard, you used to have a stores, where they used to run from the Calvert to Bletchley, well, Newton Longville to take stores or collect stores and that, to Stewartby, that’s gone, apparently Stewartby from what I’ve heard is that erm, the reason why Stewartby closed mainly, was because, like, I mean, always getting complaints, even when I was working, that erm, depending on the wind direction, they get a lot of these erm, fumes and that, even overseas CB: Yeh, in Scandinavia they were FB: Scandinavia, yeh CB: Yeh. When did you retire? FB: I erm, [pause] nineteen, wait a minute, nineteen eight [pause] I started in fifty nine, so fifty nine, eighty eight, nineteen eighty, nineteen eighty eight, [emphasis] yeh, nineteen eighty eight and when they, when they started erm, closing down, making people redundant and that, well, I had to go to the labour exchange which was in School Lane in Buckingham at that time, I had to report there and that basically was a, they knew, I mean they knew I was, they knew all about it at the labour exchange, but, you had to go, report there to ensure that you, your stamp was made, you know CB: Yeh FB: Until you was sixty five, and I went there and wait my turn and they gave you a form and filled it in and said to come back in a fortnight. Well, I went back in a fortnight and they gave me another form and it said, do you want work, have you sort work, what wage do you want, what hours do you want to work? All this and I came home and I said to my wife, I said, ‘I’m going to find myself a little job because,’ I said, I hadn’t received any money in that time, not from there anyway, and so, as luck happens, there was an advert in, about the only time they ever advertised, a little firm, erm, Greens at Wicking, and they made these sort of these wooden er, light fittings CB: Oh yeh FB: Clusters and clock cases and things like that, and they were advertising in the advertiser on that Friday, and er, I phoned up and I said, ‘it seems like you want some labour,’ ‘oh yes, can you come over and have a chat?’ and er, so I arranged to go at two o’clock on that Friday, same Friday afternoon, well I got over there, funny enough, one of the, one of the sons, I didn’t tie it up but, I played cricket for, and I was secretary of the club for Thornborough for eighteen years, and Brian Green, he had just started playing cricket, more or less as I was coming towards the end of my cricket career, so, when I got over there, I saw, I went to the office and saw Sally, as it turned out, and she said, ‘oh, I’ll go and find,’ and she found Michael, well, Michael and Tony they were twins, and they were identical twins, but Tony he didn’t, he didn’t work there, he used to go over occasionally, he’d got his own business or something, anyway I went there and he took me into the, into the factory and erm, and they’d got these machines, you know, for cutting up wood and all the rest of it, and I wasn’t very, I wasn’t very impressed with it, not really, and Michael said to me, ‘let’s go over in the office then,’ and over in the office he said, ‘what do you think?’ and I said, ‘no, I don’t think that’s for me, thank you,’ he said, ‘we’ve got a little seven hundred weight van,’ and he said, ‘ we’re looking for someone, we keep getting these youngsters that come in to drive and we can’t trust them, they don’t know whether they’re coming or going, erm, would you consider that?’ and I said, ‘well, I don’t know.’ Anyway, I took it on and they’d got these outworkers, so I used to take stuff out and deliver it and the following day, used to pick it up and take some more out and that kind of thing, and then I used to have to deliver when they sold stuff, I used to, I used to go down to, well I used to go down in Essex quite a few times, Yorkshire, Birmingham, I used to go there Birmingham quite regularly and get stuff, and take it and so it all worked out very well and I, and I got to, by this time, I had my, I was due to have my holidays and I was seventy, and er, now Laura Ashley was one of their main customers and they were also one of the their best, because they were always sure of getting their cheque monthly, where as some of the others, they had to wait for the money, you see, anyway, [laughs] so I went on holiday, and Michael phoned me up on the Sunday that I was due to start back to work on the Monday, and he said, ‘Sid, we’re short of work,’ it was sort of a [unclear] seasonal sort of thing, now I’d been working flat out from about September right round to the May, June time, and then it used to slack off again, and then it used to build up again, in sort of like, Christmas trade they used to call it, so anyway I was due to start back on the Monday, Michael phoned me up on the Sunday afternoon, he said, ‘Sid, we’re short of work,’ he said, ‘we haven’t got much for you,’ but, he said, ‘we’ll give you a ring when we get, you know, when we have got some work,’ and so I thought, that’s a good opportunity to go, quite a lot of work I wanted to get done around here, and I’d got the allotment and all, and all the rest of it, and so I said to Bet, ‘I think, er, I think that, I’ll call it a day,’ so I wrote to them and said that I’d thought I’d put it in writing, and I wrote and said that I’d decided that I’d retire, I was seventy and thanked them for, you know, the work and all the rest of it, and two or three days later, Brian, Brian rang and he said, ‘you sure you’re not going to come back?’ and I said, ‘yes, I’ve decided to pack up,’ he said, ‘we’ve got plenty of work for you now , we’re expecting you back,’ but I didn’t go back CB: You’d had enough FB: I’d had enough, I was seventy CB: Yeh FB: And I thought, well that’s it CB: How long have you lived here? FB: Since the bungalow was built in nineteen seventy-eight CB: Oh, have you really, yeh FB: It’s a, these six bungalows, three either side and they actually they are council, er, let for senior citizens or old age pensioners, whatever you call it, and we were living in a four bedroomed house, number twelve up the road, and by this time, Dad had died, my mother and father in law had died, Geoff had, Geoff had gone to Imperial College, London, in the university, and Jill, she was going to Loughborough, and there was us two living in a four bedroomed house, so I wrote to the council and I said, would it be possible to, possible to rehouse us in a smaller, either a two bedroom or possibly a three bedroom house, and what I got back was a letter saying that they weren’t selling bungalows and they weren’t selling four bedroom houses, well [laughs] I didn’t want either, but anyway, they started building these bungalows and my pal who was on the council, he said, ‘I know you want to move, why don’t you put in for one of these bungalows because they said, five of them have gone, but there’s six and they’re supposed to be for local people you see,’ he said, ‘five of them have gone, but there’s one that’s still open, why don’t you apply for it?’ and I did and originally they said I wasn’t old enough, but in the end they did sell it, er, did let it to us, and when the right to buy came, I applied to buy it CB: Because you’d got the continuity FB: So, we bought it and that’s it CB: Yes, that’s good EB: You alright? CB: We’re having a rest now, thank you [interview paused] FB: The most memorable time? CB: Your most memorable time, memorable time, in the RAF would you say? FB: [pause] [laughs] Well, I don’t know [pause] I should possibly think was when that aircrew completed their thirty ops, because that was, when I first got on 115 Squadron, if they managed to do seven, they were doing very well, so I think possibly that would be one of the stand out things that, I mean that. I can’t remember anybody else, not while I was there CB: So, you were looking after two aircraft, one did thirty but you had a series of others, as the other aircraft FB: Well, yeh, because, in actual fact, if you [background noise] [pause] that would, that was D-Dog, that was one of the, that was the one that Malcolm Buckingham and I worked on CB: Yeh, that FB: And that’s the one that did, the crew did their thirty ops on CB: Yes FB: Er, and that went on as I say, to do hundred and five, but er, by the time we left, it had done, I think it was sixty ops, and the rest of them of course, it was done after we left CB: ‘Cos you got another crew, after thirty? FB: Yeh CB: After thirty, thank you, brilliant FB: This one, that’s up there, that CB: Your pictures on the wall FN: That’s, that’s C-Charlie CB: Yes FB: C-Charlie, er and they were the two planes, you know, on the two pans as I was explaining. I don’t know how many operations that done, but that down there, what was it? Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, that done thirty, by that time [pause] [background noise] CB: [inaudible] EB: 1947 CB: Now, in the war, when you were in the RAF, did you ever have any serious illness and what was it? FB: I had, I had pneumonia while I was in, at Witchford, I spent er, what did I, a few weeks in Ely, Ely hospital, and I was excused oversea duties for six months, ‘cos I didn’t go overseas anyway, but I was, and the other thing was that, yes, on January the 25th 1947, I had, I’d had an invitation to go to Bet’s sister Margaret’s wedding EB: Why she wanted to get married FB: And, I, and I at that point, I was a senior fitter on our flight and I couldn’t get a weekend pass, which as it turned out was just as well, because on the Saturday afternoon, I was sat on top of an old Wellington, doing a plug change [laughs] and I curled up, there was a young national service chap on the other one, I forget his Christian name, but Gaskins he was, a Londoner, and I said to him, we’ll go, we’ll go down into Lincoln and have a little bit of a celebration, [laughs] being as I can’t go over to this wedding. I slid down the main as I, slid down the main frame and as I straightened up, I had this pain across, and the sergeant he said CB: Across your stomach FB: Yeh CB: Yeh FB: He said, ‘what’s the matter with you?’ I said, ‘I don’t know, I’ve got the cramp or something, I think?’ he said, ‘go on in the hut and stay there until we knock off and go down to tea,’ which is what I did do, and I said to old erm, Gaskins, I gave him my mug and I said, ‘get me a mug of tea, I’m going to get into bed,’ so I went to my hut and lay, and got into bed and he bought me this mug of tea, and I hadn’t got it down many minutes before I felt sick, and I shot out of there and ran into the ablutions and I heaved up, and I kept on, and went back into there every now and again, and kept repeating, repeating all the time, and he says, ‘well we shan’t be going down for a drink tonight, I’ll go across the sick bay and get the orderly to come and see you,’ and he did do, and the orderly said, ‘oh I’d better get the MO,’ he [laughs] tannoyed for the medical officer and they took me over to the sick bay, and he said, ‘oh you’ve got appendicitis,’ so they took me off to [unclear] hospital, and it was snowing, it started snowing you see, it started snowing , anyway, and I got to [unclear] anyway they operated on me and I’ve got an awful scar here, where I had a stitch abscess, and they sent me home er, on, I had a fortnights sick leave but I had to get into Buckingham every, every day to have this dressing changed, that was a bit of a problem, but er, but also, [laughs] when I was discharged to come home, I got down to Bletchley, station, railway station you see, and the old porter he said, ‘no trains to Buckingham until tomorrow morning,’ I said, ‘I know, I know that,’ I said, I’m going to,’ ‘well,’ he said, I don’t know whether you’ll have any luck because,’ he says, ‘we’ve heard that the road is blocked, somewhere along that road,’ and I said, ‘well, the army,’ of course there’s Bletchley Park, that we didn’t know anything about, but there was Bletchley Park, well, they were running from there to Whaddon and also to Lenborough CB: What, the army trucks? FB: Yeh, well, with the signals, you see, you know, and they would always stop and pick you up if you wanted it, you know, wanted a lift, and there was just one went past me, and that was before I got anywhere near to the Whaddon turn, and he went straight past me, and I never saw anything else, [background noise] and I walked and from Bletchley, what is it, to Thornborough, it’s about eight miles, I think it is about eight miles, something like that, but when I got round to Singleborough turn, the straight bit there, I could see this shape in the road and it turned out, it was one of the Coop tankers in there, and of course the, where Bet lived at Greatmore it, you needn’t open the gate, you walked straight over ‘cos it was about five foot deep, you see, it was, anyway I got back in, I got back home, I think it was about two or three o’clock in the morning, something like that, and rattled the door and my Dad came [laughs] ‘cor, he said, what’s happened to you?’ I said, ‘well, I’ve walked from Bletchley,’ and so, got into bed, and as I say, every day I had to go into, to have this dressing changed EB: He walked four miles CB: Can’t have done him any good to do that? EB: No CB: Because this, 1947 was one of the worst winters FB: It was CB: In living memory, wasn’t it? EB: [inaudible] FB: Well, there was still snow under the hedges in May CB: Was it, in Rutland we couldn’t get out of the village for seven days EB: Oh gosh CB: Amazing EB: Where was that? CB: That was in Empingham Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Sidney Bunce Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Chris Brockbank Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-11-08 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context ABunceFSG161108 PBunceFSG1609 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Description An account of the resource Sid was working at a garage and a member of the local Air Training Corps when he volunteered for the Royal Air Force. At 18, he was kitted out at Padgate and trained as a flight mechanic on engines at Blackpool. Sid describes his 18-week training course. He was posted to 115 Squadron at RAF Witchford, joining a group responsible for two aircraft. Sid was promoted from aircraftman second class to aircraftman first class. 195 Squadron was reformed to include 115 Squadron. Sid transferred to RAF Wratting Common where he became a Leading Aircraftman. He describes their participation in Operation Manna and Exodus. When the squadron disbanded, he went for a short time to RAF Mildenhall and was, initially, put forward for an overseas posting. However, he instead went to RAF Wing, and subsequently to RAF Silverstone and RAF Swinderby as each closed. Sid details the work they carried out, depending on whether or not they were night operations, and outlines the different ground crew roles. He tells of two aircraft being shot down by a German night fighter on their return to base. His aircraft, however, managed 105 operations. He would carry out air tests in the aircraft. Sid talks of Wellingtons and Lancasters which he worked on, and his admiration for Merlin engines. A V-1 fell near the airfield at RAF Wratting Common. Sid was demobilised at RAF Kirkham in April 1947. After the war he drove for United Dairies and the London Brick company. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Cathie Hewitt Sally Coulter Maureen Clarke Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Buckinghamshire England--Cambridgeshire England--Lancashire England--Lincolnshire England--Northamptonshire England--Suffolk Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1943 1944 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 02:01:44 audio recording 115 Squadron 195 Squadron demobilisation fitter engine flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Lancaster medical officer military living conditions military service conditions Navy, Army and Air Force Institute Operation Exodus (1945) Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945) RAF Kirkham RAF Mildenhall RAF Silverstone RAF Swinderby RAF Wing RAF Witchford RAF Wratting Common training V-1 V-weapon Wellington https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/498/8388/ACoultonWA161020.1.mp3 cd9c3d503ae278ab9f2db39c0cf651f9 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/498/8388/PCoultonWA1608.2.jpg 15510534c70ff503e12c0b6afc5bca75 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Coulton, William Arthur William Coulton W A Coulton Arthur Coulton Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Coulton, WA Description An account of the resource Six items. The collection concerns William Arthur Coulton (b. 1925, 3050209, Royal Air Force). He served as an engine mechanic at RAF Witchford and RAF North Luffenham before being posted overseas to Palestine. Collection includes an oral history interview, some artworks, a wedding photograph and a photograph album. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by William Arthur Coulton and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-10-20 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is 20th October 2016, and we are in Freemantle Court, near Stoke Mandeville, Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire and we’re with William Arthur Coulton who’s going to tell us about his experiences in the RAF on the ground. So Arthur what are the earliest recollections that you got of life? AC: The earliest – Twyford, at Twyford, the village of Twyford in south Derbyshire. Yes, I – the fourth, three or four – yes – south Derbyshire. CB: That’s where you lived? AC: That’s where we lived, we lived in the the holdall [?] of south Derbyshire Twyford had been put into two two houses. Yeah, two residence. Went to school, the village, the little village school, well a matchbox school I went back some years ago to see the place and I was surprised how small the school was. Yes. And we left, we left Twyford. My father worked, a farm worker and he got a job in Ash— Ashford or near Ashford. We went to live up there and he had the misfortune to get gored by a bull and he, he never worked the bulls for four years, and that that finished his farm working, and then he went to work in the foundry of all places. Yes, yes. [Background noise] CB: And then where did you go from there? AC: Where where did, where did the – we went to live at Holbrook in Derbyshire. Yes, ‘cause its two Holbrooks you know? One in Lincolnshire, and my parents stayed there for the rest of their lives. And actually I’ve got a young sister still lives in Holbrook and from there I joined the air force. CB: When when did you leave school? AC: 14. CB: At 14? AC: Yes. CB: And what did you do then? AC: When I left school? I went to work for Derby Co-op. Yes, I went as errand boy at Derby Co-op. and I stayed with Derby Co-op until I was 18, joined the air force. Yes. CB: Why did you join the RAF and not one of the other services? AC: To be quite honest, you want the honest there? CB: Yeah. AC: I didn’t want to be gun fodder. I didn’t want to join the army. I didn’t want to be in the front line. That’s me being honest about it. CB: That’s good. AC: Of course, I was in the ATC, so you automatically you got the preference to go in the air force and I enjoyed the air force. I trained as a flight mechanic. I – CB: Where did you join up? AC: In 1943. CB: Where? AC: At Birmingham. That’s where I went through the details, at Birmingham, and when I joined up from Birmingham we went to – oh, we went to Cardigan [?] and we got issued with our uniform at mob office yes. And then I got – where’d I go then? I got posted to me square bashing at Skegness. When they told me I was going to Skegness, I asked me Sergeant if I had me bucket and spade. He said, ‘You won’t have a chance to use it.’ [Chuckle]. CB: He said it a bit more bluntly than that though? AC: Pardon? CB: He said it a bit more bluntly than that. AC: Yes. Yes yes. Yes he did. CB: You horrible little man. AC: Yeah I was a horrible little man. [Shared laughter] AC: Yes. I I — do you know Skegness? CB: Yes. AC: Imperial Hotel? I know that place very well. That was our mess hall and I know what the cellar was like. I got fatigues down there more than once. [Laughter]. Yes. I was a bad lad, I got caught you see. The policy is that do anything you like as long as you don’t get caught. That’s the — CB: That’s a cardinal rule? AC: Pardon? CB: It’s a cardinal rule. AC: Yes. CB: Yes. AC: Yes. I got caught several times. CB: Right. AC: Yeah, I was — CB: So what did you learn there? When you weren’t misbehaving. AC: What did I learn? I was trying to find out how I could get away with it. You know to find the loopholes. [Chuckle]. Oh dear. I didn’t do too, too bad. No. CB: So what did the course, this is a training course, Initial Training Wing, this is the training wing — AC: Square bashing. CB: Yeah. AC: You know, up and down, marching like a lot of silly hooligans. Yes, and what they call the Commando course running around in a woods there with barbed wire, yeah and that, and one of you had to lie on it while the others run over you. That wasn’t very comfortable – you had to take it in turns. Yeah. You lay on barbed wire. Not very nice CB: No. AC: Yeah. CB: What was worse the barbed wire or peoples feet on your back? AC: I would say people’s feet on ya. Yeah. CB: Okay, so what else did you do? AC: Yeah. They put — CB: They — AC: They put — and that was at Skegness that was, where we did the training. And then we was what you was going to be, you was sent to them them units. And first of all they sent me to Newcastle-on-Tyne of all places. And I was there on me own, with you know, I didn’t go anyone else. Then I went on my own to Weston Super Mare to Lockheed, you know that? CB: I do know. But just quickly what did you do at Newcastle-on-Tyne? What was the purpose of that? AC: Just — just waiting patiently. CB: A holding unit? AC: Yes. CB: Okay. AC: Yes. Then I went to Lockheed and I did me engineering course there. CB: How long did that last? AC Pardon? CB: How long was the Lockheed course? AC: Erh. Was it? Was it 16 weeks? I think it was. I’m not certain now and then we went to — was posted and I was posted to to Newmarket. And the engineer — the sergeant said to me, ‘Where you going?’ I said, ‘Romney Marsh [?], Newmarket.’ He said, ‘You’re going to a holiday camp.’ I said, ‘As good as that?’ And it showed me how good it was. [Laughter]. It was it was — You couldn’t beat beat Newmarket. It was lovely. CB: That was on the racecourse then was it? AC: On the racecourse, yes. CB: So, what was so really special about it? AC: Pardon? CB: What was really special about it? AC: Well, you could just say. Freedom. You know you was in the forces but you had a free life like. Yes. And our billet was a Nissan hut in Frank Buttress’[?] paddock, one of his paddocks. There was about 12 Nissan huts in there, and he didn’t mind you going round the stables, looking at the horses. I went round one day and a blinking horse — I — [unclear] all at was it nipped me. I I, well that’s the end of my life with horses. [Chuckle]. Yeah. But I liked Newmarket. That was a good station to be on. I was there 10 months and then they posted me to 115 Squadron at Witchford, Ely and I stayed there right to the end of the war. And I was on A and B aircraft as a flight mechanic. CB: So you’re a flight mechanic, and A and B were the tasks that you did, so what were those? AC: A and B was the two aircraft. CB: Right. AC: A and B and the number — what you call it — the code number was KO. That was the aircraft, KO. And we went to, when the war ended and I went to North Luffenham. Have you ever been there? CB: I know, lived there. AC: Pardon? CB: I used to live there. AC: Yes. I went to North Luffenham and I remustered into the MT [?] as a motor motor mechanic. And I stayed there for about four weeks, I think. And I was working on an American claptrap[?] vehicle. And a chap came along out of the distance and waving the papers and said, ‘You’re posted overseas.’ Well I said, ‘If that’s if that’s the case I’m packing up here now then going.’ And I went overseas. I went to Palestine and I was with 32 Squadron Fighter Squadron. Famous 32. Yes, and they had Spitfires but I was in the MT then and I worked in the vehicles, and we went into Jordan on exercises with the army and from there, went back there. Yeah I was demobbed. I got my demob come through while I was at there at Palestine. Was it? No. Sorry no. At North Luffenham that was where I got me notification of demob and I got demobbed. I went to work in the local garage. CB: Where? AC: Ely. CB: In Ely? AC: Cambridge. CB: Right. AC: Yes. And then I did five years in there. CB: How did you come to do that in Ely when you were in from North Luffenham? AC: What? CB: Why did you choose Ely when you were stationed — AC: I got married. CB: — at North Luffenham? AC: I got married. She come from Ely. CB: Oh right. Sounds a pretty compelling reason. AC: Yeah, I got a photograph of her there. CB: Yeah, we’ll have a look. JS: She’s lovely. AC: Eh? CB: We’ll look in a minute. Yeah. AC: Yeah. I I was stationed at Witchford at Ely. You know the aerodrome. Witchford. That’s how I come to meet the wife and, of course, when I got demobbed, I went I lived in Ely, went to work at the local garage. CB: Hmm. AC: And I stayed there till one day a coal merchant who I knew quite well, he was only a bit older than me came in and asked me if I’d go and run a dairy business for him he’d bought. I mean all above all things from a mechanic to a dairy. I said, ‘Yeah I’ll go, Joe. I’ll have a go.’ And I stayed with the milk industry for 33 years and then I retired. Yes, I built up a good business. I amalgamated with another dairy. We we had a good business. We had nearly 6000 customers CB: Hmm. AC: We had quite a quite a business and, well, we had 14 men work for us. CB: Hmm. AC: Yes but I say we — that was hard work. It is hard working in the dairy trade. Yes. CB: What’s the hardest thing about working in the dairy trade? AC: Delivering the milk and satisfying the customers. Yeah you get a lot of dissatisfied people if you was a bit late. They never realised that they could have had extra milk and kept always had a bottle in hand. That’s what — there’s a lot of people like that. Yes. CB: So you met your wife when you was at Witchford? AC: I met her at Witchford. CB: What was was she in the RAF? AC: She was in the NAAFI. CB: Oh was she, right. AC: I was a canteen cowboy. CB: What was her name? AC: Hilda Elsie. CB: Hilda and she was a canteen cowboy. AC: That’s was that they called them you know. They called — CB: Not cowgirl? AC: If you was a NAAFI girl, you was a canteen cowboy. [Laughter] Yes. CB: And was her tea any good? AC: Pardon? CB: Was her tea any good? AC: Ehhhh. Not too bad. I did know one thing about it. I used to get egg and chips. CB: Oh. AC: The chaps used to say, ‘Where’d you get your egg from?’ I said, ‘Hilda brought for me.’ They said, ‘Will she get me one?’ They wouldn’t ask her. [Laughter] ‘Cause her parents got poultry. CB: Oh. AC: Yes. So I got egg and chips, I did. CB: Interesting. So you settled down for the five years in Ely, but actually you continued in that area did you with the – with the milk? AC: Yes. Oh Yes. Oh yes I continued in that area. CB: Hm. AC: But — and the dairy ran —we got progress — we got a bit of land and we build a dairy to — the purpose was to vehicles. And we had — eventually we had all electric vehicles. We had one electric vehicle that could 55 miles, around Cambridge doing 55 miles. CB: Hm. AC: Didn’t do —it was never more than 88 miles through the premises, but it got the capacity for 55 miles. Yeah. CB: So what was the area that you were serving? It was Ely and the villages, was it? AC: The villages, yes and Ely and surrounding villages. Yes. CB: To what extent did you use your engineering skills — AC: Kept the vehicles — CB: — after the war. AC: Kept the vehicles going. CB: As well as running the business. AC: Yes. Well I had a partners and I used to look after the vehicles. Yeah. I got a dab hand at the electric vehicles. Yes. CB: Now, going back to the RAF when you went to your training at Locking [?], what did they do to train you from scratch to be an aero—engine mechanic? AC: Yes. We we had in this big hanger, we had sections set off in bays and there was in our gang there was 15 of us. The the instructor, he was a sergeant who instructed us and he instructed us on engineering and I really really liked it there. CB: So how many bays would they have in the hanger? Was there a different — did they do a different task in each bay? AC: Of all the things what we had in the hanger, we had Blackburn Botha did you know about them? CB: — Yeah. Blackburn Botha. Yeah. AC: They got two of them. Yes. [unclear] Our job was to strip them and put them back again. CB: Yeah. AC: You strip the engine down. Rebuild it and put it back again. CB: What were those engines? Were they radials? Or were they inline? AC: Inline. Yes. Yes. Inline. CB: And what other engines did they have as well. AC: I I can’t think of what — a Sabre engine. CB: A Napier Sabre? AC: Yes. Yes. I can’t think what aircraft that was out of. CB: That was off the Typhoon. AC: Was it? I know it was a big engine. CB: Yeah. 27 litres. AC: Yeah. CB: And did you have Merlins there or where was your introduction to the Merlin? AC: Yeah there, but it was the early Merlin. The Merlin Mark I of all the things to teach us on. Yeah the really early — Christopher. Come from the Boar War I think. Yes. CB: So, if you had — if there were these bays, you stayed in the bays did you, as a group of 15? AC: Yes. CB: And learned all the aspects of engine repair and maintenance. Is that right? AC: Yes. Yes that’s right. We were instructed on it and you had diagrams and you drew diagrams, and — I can’t think how many was on there. But I but I really enjoyed it. I liked the job. CB: It was a mixture of hands on and classwork was it? AC: Yes. CB: So, did you — you had a notebook that you kept? AC: What? CB: You had a notebook in which you progressed — AC: Oh yes. CB: — your training. AC: Yes. I I, though I say it myself I think I was a good mechanic, but was I good? When I went into Civvy Street at the local garage at Ely. The first job the foreman said to me, ‘I want you to rebuild that engine there and put it in a car.’ And it was all in bits. And he’d re — it. So I rebuilt it. I’d never seen it before. It was all in tin boxes in bits. Yes. So I built it. I went [unclear], it went when I put it in the car. Yes. CB: What was his reaction to that? AC: Oh, he thought I was all right. Thought I was a good bloke. CB: Yeah. AC: Well, there’s there’s about 12 of us mechanics in the garage. Three of them were ex RAF men. Yeah so — we did all right. CB: And in your training, you had this group with you, so the 15 in the bay, were they — did some of them move along with you or did everybody go to somewhere quite different? AC: Yes. Two of them — went, when we finished, two of them went with me to Newmarket. One was named Chris Rudge [?] and I can’t think of the other ones name. But but this Chris Rudge [?] had a bad reputation. He — nobody liked him. CB: No? AC: Instead of calling you a ‘B’, he called you a ‘Got blood like Rudge.’ That’s what they used to say. Yes. CB: Right. AC:Yes. CB: So he was the one who was disruptive, was he? AC: Pardon? CB: He was disruptive influence in the — AC: Yes. CB: — in the bay. AC: Yeah, nobody liked him. No. CB: And what was you classified as? You were cadets at that stage, what rank? AC: No, we weren’t classed as cadets. I was a — I was a LAC. Yes I was LAC then and, of course, the flight mate can’t go any more than a LAC until he remusters [unclear]. That was my biggest mistake. I didn’t remuster. See If I had remustered — CB: Why didn’t you remuster? AC: I never thought I was — I was young and silly. See I I was 19 and I hadn’t got a clue what – I was young and silly. Yes. I regret it but never mind I learnt more when I went in the garage job. I had a good experience. CB: What time of the year were you are Locking [?] AC: Locking? [Pause] Yeah, autumn. Yes, ‘cause I went down Weston—Super—Mare. Had a girlfriend there and we walked round the Winter Gardens. Yeah, and it was autumn. Yes. That brought back memories that does. Cor she was half — JS: [Laughter] AC: Memories, eh? CB: So she wasn’t in the Air Force? AC: No, she was civvy girl. Civvy girl. Yeah. CB: So, she showed you all the excitements of Weston-Super-Mare? AC: Very. Definitely. Weston-Super-Mare there’s not much there. CB: That you didn’t know about? AC: Eh? CB: That you didn’t know about? AC: No [Laughter] CB: Particularly, the places that were difficult to find you in? AC: Yes. CB: Down the pier? AC: Pardon? CB: Along the pier? AC: How long was I there? CB No, no the pier. AC: Oh beer. CB: Pier pier. AC: Yes. CB: And when you travelled, how did you get around from Locking [?] to Weston-Super-Mare? Did you walk, cycle or bus? AC: [Mumble] From Locking [?] to Weston-Super-Mare it’s only two miles. CB: Oh right. AC: You walked. Yes. Yeah. Then you crept in — when you crept into camp you went through the hedge, the hawthorn hedge. That was — there was a gap and you crawled through it. You missed — you missed the guardroom then. CB: Yeah. AC: Naughty boys. [Chuckle] CB: What was the accommodation when you were at Locking [?]? AC: Pretty warm. Wooden purpose — built buildings. They had wood corridors from the rooms. You never went outside to get a wash, you went down these corridors to the ablutions. Showers. Was — as I say it was pretty warm building. Yeah. Locking, I understand the Fleet Arm have got it now. CB: And when you went to Newmarket, what were you doing there? Was is it an extension of your training or what? AC: No, I went there as a fully blown mechanic. CB: Right. So what were you called then? Your title. AC: [Mumble] I was LAC. Leading aircraftsman. CB: But did you were an aircraft mechanic or were you a — AC: Aircraft mechanic. CB: And what aircraft were you on there? Was there a squadron that you were — AC: Spitfires. CB: Spitfires right. AC: Lovely old Spitfire. We used — used to love to get in them and warm them up in the mornings. Oh that was the best bit about that. Squadron Leader West was the CO. There was only six Spitfires. Was only a little group of u, but we had a good time until he decided to post me and he posted me to Ely, Witchford — CB: Yeah. AC: — on Lancasters, and I always remember I went you went into see the CO and he said to me,: ‘What do you know about Merlins?’ That was it. And I said, ‘Well, I was on Spitfires.’ And he didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like it at all. CB: ‘Cause he was a bomber man? AC: Well, the Spitfire has got the same engine, ain’t it? CB: Yeah. AC: [Chuckle] He didn’t like it. So,I made an enemy with him first of all. CB: How well did you adapt to the bomber activity? AC: Ohh lovely. I had a good crew. I had a good — I was with a good mob. I was with a real good mob. We had a Sergeant [unclear] Wakeman [?] He was a real a real gentleman. He was he was a nice chap [unclear]. We called him [unclear] we didn’t call him Sergeant. So we know how how good he was. But, of course, the Air Force had a better relationship with everybody than they did in the army. Definitely. Yes. CB: So were you on the flight line or were you in a hanger? AC: I was on the dispersal ramp side. CB: Right. AC: Yeah. That was the best place to be to get the ‘flip-up’. Yes. CB: So what what would get you the trip up in the aircraft? What what was the — AC: Where’d we’d go in? Lancasters. CB: No no. How did you manage to get the flights. AC: Oh, we’d get one easy as pie. CB: [Cough] For what reason? AC: Just just as the crew said, as the pilot said, ‘Can I have trip up with ya?’ He’d say, ‘Get in.’ You weren’t supposed to but you get in. CB: So why would he be flying at that moment? AC: Pardon? CB: Would he be flying for air test or cross country or what? AC: Air test. Air test or — yeah, what’s it? Air gunners practice in the [unclear]. Yes. Oh, went up several times. Well well the — on dispersal when a Squadron Leader an Australian, Robbie, had — what ya got to do is say, ‘Robbie, can I come up?’ And he said, ‘Jump in.’ [Chuckle] You weren’t supposed to but we used to get in. He’d take one of ya. Two of ya. And then you — I got up to the front as a Flight Engineers seat to get a bit of practice. I thought it were quite nice. As I said, I enjoyed my life in the Air Force. I really enjoyed it. CB: Yeah AC: I wasn’t one of these that wanted to go home to mother. No. It it was nice. Yeah. CB: What sort of routine did you have on the squadron? AC: Maintenance. CB: Yeah. AC: Yeah just maintenance. CB: But but what time would you get up? And were you on a shift or how did it work? AC: Yeah it it – there was no such thing as shifts. You was all in a crowd. You know, you got —I think there was about seven of us in our mob. We had to look after two aircraft. Yeah, A and B. [unclear] What was that? And eh, what else was there? I was there I was there till the end of the war at Witchford and A carried a big bomb. You know the big 22000lb. CB: The Grand Slam. AC: Pardon? CB: The Grand Slam. AC: Yeah, the Grand Slam. That big ‘un. Yes. I carried that — CB: So that was a modified Lancaster to make it fit? AC: Oh yes, it it – the bomb bomb doors was differently. They lapped around the bomb. CB: So who did the modification for that? AC: [Unclear] CB: You did it. AC: No. CB: On the airfield? AC: No, I did it — the Air Force did it in the hanger [?]. And that was a pity, I never I never — I should have asked to have gone in the hanger to make it work. I would have learnt more. But, as I say, I was young and silly and having a good time at the dispersals. CB: So on the dispersal, what were the tasks you had to do in a day? AC: Main — maintenance on the engine. Yeah, giving a check over and that. CB: So would you have a ladder for that or a gantry? AC: A gantry. Yes, yes used to have a gantry. And, course you, you walked over, over the wings and that and you sat [unclear] screwing the tops in. Yeah, wasn’t weren’t supposed to — you were supposed to use the gantry. CB: But but nobody fell off? AC: [Chuckle] Well you know [mumble] when you change the engine at the dispersal. They used say ‘Put the fan on and then they’ll think we’re finished.’ That was the propeller. CB: Yeah AC: [Chuckle].Yeah. CB: So, you could do an engine change at dispersal, could you? AC: Yes, yes. We used to change them there. CB: What would be the reason for changing an engine? AC: If it got over heated. Yeah, ‘cause they got over heated and burned the aluminium. The heads, the rocker cover, the nuts be melted — be melted into the aluminium when it got hot. CB: So what would cause the engine to overheat? AC: Well, lack of coolant. Yeah. CB: So, it would be damaged by flak or enemy attack in some way would it. AC: Oh yes, if it was leaking. Yes. CB: And what was the coolant on those engines? AC: Drycol. CB: Right. AC: Yes. The bloke who used to be in the hanger working on the Glycol tank. He had to take him into the sick bay and pump him out because he was drinking the stuff. You know it tastes like pear drops. CB: And it made him high? AC: Pardon. CB: And it didn’t do him any good? AC: Didn’t do him any good. No. Didn’t do him no good, but it tasted nice you see. That was the reason. CB: So on the flight line, you’re — the aircraft you’re prepare it for an operation. AC: Yes. CB: What was the procedure for handing it over to the crew? How did they know that it was working? AC: Well, they’d be notified by phone that — yes. It was when they expected it. It always come up with the kit. Yeah, I mean I changed one day while they were waiting — waiting to take off, I changed the hydraulic pump on the inboard — the starboard inner while the other engines were running. Yeah, yeah I did [unclear]. CB: So had this engine been running earlier? AC: Yes. CB: So it was a bit hot was it? AC: Oh, yes it was well hot. But as I say I liked my job. I enjoyed my life on it. I used to volunteer to do it. CB: And what was the link between the ground crew and the aircrew? AC: Very close. Very close. They was very, very close. CB: And was there one crew member more than the others or any of the crew members? AC: All the crewmembers were like — I was on A and B, and they was flown by an Australian Squadron Leader, Robbie. We called him Robbie, and he name was Robertson actually. CB: Right. AC: We called him Robbie. And he, he was all right with us. You see the ground staff and the aircrew they had — well a close—knit unit, didn’t they? They they relied on you. Yeah, they were very close to ya. There was no ifs or buts about it. CB: So you talked about clearance for their aircraft mechanically before it flew, when it came back what sort of debriefing did you have with the crew? AC: Oh, we didn’t have any debriefing with the crew. All they said was if anything was wrong and that was done and the NCO used to ask us what was on the Flight Engineer and then that’s what we got set into. Yes. CB: Was the main link between the Flight Engineer and the chief, the crew chief or would it be the other member of the — AC: The Flight Engineer and the ground staff, he NCO and the ground staff was always very close. Yes, they consulted one another. CB: And how many times did the aircraft come back damaged? AC: Oh, I couldn’t tell ya. There was a lot of holes in it at times. CB: And how did you feel about that? AC: How did I feel? [Emphasis] I had the job of patching ‘em. You see I was on engines but I helped to do the patching. Riveting of a patch. Oh yes, some aircraft got real patchy. Yeah. CB: When you say real patchy were there a number of — what sort of damage did the aircraft have? AC: Well it, it would be shrapnel. Shrapnel holes ‘cause they were jagged. We put — just put a panel of aluminium over them. Yes. CB: And how did you secure the aluminium plate? AC: Pardon? CB: How did you secure the — AC: Rivet them. CB: Right. AC: Yeah, pot rivet them. Yeah the old pot rivets. Yeah. That was that was a regular job that. Yeah. CB: There was a case in 15 Squadron of a Lancaster coming back without the rear turret because it had been knocked off by a bomb falling from above. Did you see that? AC: We had the — I dunno whether if you read about the rear gunner what bailed out, well he come from Witchford. He was at Witchford, he was on ‘C’ flight and he bailed out and he shouldn’t have lived. When they got back, they found they got no rear gunner. [Chuckle]. And he was a prisoner of war. [Chuckle] CB: So what had happened to him then? Why did he get out and how did he do it? AC: I think he heard the pilot prepare to — you know, to bail out and he only gone to bail out and he didn’t hesitate. He opened the door and went. [Chuckle]. CB: With or without a parachute? AC: With a parachute, but I’ll you what you looked a little bit sick when you saw the aircraft flying above ya and going home wouldn’t ya? And you was going down into captivity. [Chuckle] Oh dear. It wasn’t very nice. CB: What other good stories do you remember about being at Witchford and 15 Squadron. AC: Oh yes. That was one of one of them that — rear gunner bailed out and he shouldn’t have done. We — I was on A and B and they’re good, they do a very good [unclear] and I said Robbie was a pilot on it. Australian. He later went to make a Wing Commander and he was in charge of the Squadron. Yeah Robbie. We called him Robbie, that was something about it weren’t he? CB: Well you were an ‘Erk’. AC: Pardon? CB: You were an ‘Erk’ and he was a — AC: We called him Robbie — CB: He was a senior officer. AC: Yeah. You called Robbie. He didn’t mind. Well that was that the spirit between the aircrew and the ground staff, wasn’t it?. [Background noise] CB: Absolutely. So that you got A and B aircraft — AC: Yes. CB: — the two aircraft, what about the other pilot? What was he like? AC: Oh well, we had different pilots. It was mostly a Scotsman who used to fly. He was all right, but we did have a South African and he got his South African Air Force uniform. Khaki, and he always flew with his hat over the top of his helmet. Yeah. CB: [Laughter] AC: Yeah, yeah he did. His name was Martin. He [unclear] was a Flight Lieutenant then. Flight Lieutenant Martin. Yeah. ‘Course we used to say he was dog biscuits, Martin Dog Biscuits, and we used to collar, collar the blokes when the NAAFI van used to come round. The officers were there and the aircrew used to collar them to pay for their tea. [Chuckle]. CB: How did you divide your time between the two aircraft? AC: Well when we — if the aircraft had gone off you stayed in the the dispersal hut. You played cards. Gambled. CB: No, but I mean that you had A and B aircraft, so how did you divide the work between them? AC: Well you got to which either one it was. You went on, no matter which one. Flight Sergeant told you which aircraft you gotta do and you went on it. There was no difference. All, all I could say was B was a dirty aircraft . Oil leaks. You couldn’t stop the oil leaks. She used to leak oil all over the under cart. Yeah. CB: So that was one of the inner engines? AC: Engines yeah. Yeah. You naturally changed it. CB: Right AC: Yeah took the engine out. ‘Course the engines always went back to Rolls Royce at Derby. CB: Oh did they? AC: All the all the engines used to go back for maintenance. If you took one out that went to Rolls Royce. Yes. CB: So one that you put in would always be new? AC: Yes. Yes. CB: And how long did it take to change an engine? AC: About — I couldn’t truthfully say. Would I should imagine about four hours. Five hours. CB: Taking one out and putting one in. AC: Taking one out and putting all the connections in. Pipes and that. Yes. CB: And was the engine raised by a lift? Or by a crane or how did it — AC: We lifted them up by crane. We used to get, you know the, the coals — CB: Coal cranes. AC: We used to get him to come along and hook it up and hook it up and that’s how we did it. Just there’s only four bolts holding the engine in. CB: Oh. AC: That’s all that holds it in. So that the cradle, the engine’s on a cradle actually and they just pushed it in and put the four bolts in. Then you collected all the wires and hosepipes up, the pipes up. Yeah. Yes. CB: Now in your quieter times and relaxation what did you do? AC: Well, let’s say that I used to do a little bit of courting. CB: Just one girl or more? AC: Well, one or two but I ended up with one. CB: Right. AC: I married her. CB: Fantastic. AC: Yes. She a good girl to me. We was married for 52 years. CB: Were you really? AC: Yes. Yes she was good. She was the only child. CB: And how many children did you have? AC: One. CB: Just David. AC: Yes. CB: Yes. AC: I told them I’d lost the recipe. [Chuckle] [Shared laughter] Yeah. No, we only had the one. CB: And they believed you? AC: Pardon? CB: And they believed you? AC: Yeah. [Unclear] CB: What would you say was the most memorable thing about your service in the Royal Air Force? AC: Well comradeship was one of the best things, wasn’t it? There was something about during the war where you you was in a group of men and there was all youngsters like you. You know most of them was like all about 25 the oldest. That was a mess life, but it was a good life. CB: And your accommodation at Locking was a pre—war shed, what did you get at Witchford. AC: Nissan huts. Nissan huts. CB: How many people in a Nissan hut? AC: Twelve. CB: And how was that heated? AC: Heating was one of those combustion pot stoves in the middle. You know those cast iron things. You got nothing but fumes. I slept by the window at the end and I used to open the window but the lads didn’t like it, but if they come down and shut it, I used to get up and stop them. CB: So, everybody suffered from the fumes. AC: Oh yes, the stink of coke on the fire and the fumes was terrible. CB: And even though you were all technicians you couldn’t stop the fumes? AC: No, because they were all combustion stoves, you can’t stop it, can ya? CB: What — AC: Stinky things. CB: What, what was it burning? Coke or coal. AC: Coke. Yes. ‘Cause we’d run out of coke at one period and we managed to get some coke from the aerodrome from outside Bury St Edmunds. And I was in a gang of boys that went to shovel this coke onto the back of the truck to bring it back. Yeah. What a job. CB: Did they did they notice that you’d nicked it? AC: Pardon? CB: Did they notice that you had nicked it? AC: Yeah. Oh yes. CB: [Laughter] AC: Well we did nick it. CB: How about the food? How did you feel about that? AC: Well it just depends what camp you are on. Newmarket was a good, excellent. You couldn’t you couldn’t find fault in Newmarket, but Witchford was cruel. And I think the worse one — the worse one I think was Lockheed. It was — wasn’t anything special. They called themselves cooks but they weren’t anything special. No. Skegness. Oh yes, I forget Skegness. Now that was the worse. Skeggie was the worse food. We was at the Imperial Hotel that was our place and the food there was terrible. Absolutely terrible. CB: And who were the people doing the cooking there? AC: They had the people doing it. CB: Civilians or RAF? AC: RAF. It was all RAF. Yeah WAAFs cooking it. They’d have a couple of blokes probably and in charge was a Warrant Officer, and yeah that was terrible grub. And when we went to Witchford, we — I ordered — they supplied us, give us kippers for breakfast and they was off. They weren’t right. Everybody was throwing them away, and when the caterer – bloke came round, the officer came round and asked if there were any complaints. We said, ‘These kippers are rotten.’ He said he said, ‘They were in the mess. We complained about them in the officer’s mess.’ [Chuckle]. Oh, they were rotten things. I think the grub at Witchford was the worse one in the Air Force what I had. Yeah, definitely. CB: So what was it that was so bad about it? AC: It was the way it was cooked and presented. It was terrible. But the best place at Ouston, Newcastle-Upon-Tyne I was stationed up there. Now that was good. It was a trainer station that’s it and that was that was good there. CB: So in today’s terms nutrition is very varied. There’s a huge choice. What did you actually have as a staple diet in the war as a ground tradesman? AC: Well well, there was a potato, cabbage and you didn’t get peas that was a funny thing. See frozen peas came in after the war, didn’t they? So you didn’t get peas. We got cabbage, cauliflower, yes there was parsnips, carrots. I don’t eat parsnips. I think there are horrible things but — CB: What about meat? What sort of meat did you get? AC: Meat? I had beef. I reckon while I was in the Middle East we had camel. [Laughter] Yes. That’s what that was. That was stringy like. So, I reckon it was camel. Yeah. I brought back a lot of memories. CB: Hm. That’s good. AC: Pardon? CB: And in your time off on the camp what did you do? AC: On the camp? Time off? CB: Yeah. AC: Well well when you got your time off you didn’t stop off at the camp. You went out. You went out. I mean at Weston-Super-Mare at Lockheed there you’re supposed to book in at. Well we was bad lads you see. We came in late so we came through the hedge. [Chuckle]. Like real lads. CB: But at Skegness because it was your initial training then you were more disciplined were you? AC: Oh yes. Oh yes we had to off the street at 9 o’clock at night. Yes. I had the misfortune, I was eating fish and chips in the shop down there at Skeggie and these here two Military RAF police come by, saw me and it’d just gone 9 o’clock. He walked in, he said, ‘You’re not supposed to be out.’ They picked up my fish and chips, they took ‘em and told me to get back to the billet quick. [Chuckle] Rotten devils. I daren’t say nothing, dare I? CB: It was a pity to waste them wasn’t it? AC: Yeah, I daren’t say a dickie bird. Well, you see I was a raw recruit at Skeggie. CB: Yes. AC: Yes. CB: So they kept you quite busy there? AC: Oh yes, definitely. Oh yes. Yes. Marching up and down like a lot of hooligans and they took you on what they called an ‘Air Commando Course’. I could tell you, you had to go across these here three logs. Run across these three logs. Like — well like telegraph posts and they had barbed wire in the bottom of the water. So if you fell in it wouldn’t be very comfortable, would it? And you was with full pack and your rifle. I tell you what I didn’t like that. I run — when I got there I run over that. What they used to do, used to say, ‘Who’s the oldest in the mob?’ And I always remember there was a chap of 32. They sent him round, they said, ‘Right. Run round the [unclear] course.’ And they timed him and he told us we got to do it in that time. We — there was no slacking. If you if you didn’t do it in that time you’re sent round again. Yeah. So it wasn’t a holiday camp. Skegness wasn’t. No. CB: Back onto the flight lines, so you’re working as an air mechanic, how did you link in with other people with skills like parachute packing, air traffic. Did you link in with people like that? AC: We never come across the parachute packing and that. We never come across that. We we was more or less on the dispersal. I was just the crew there. You didn’t mix with any others. No. Well, you had —you was occupied. You was fully occupied. Then, of course, when the aircraft took off, you went out went out and got something to eat especially if it was night but you had a chitty and you walked into the messing hall, presented your chit and you got something. It was mostly egg and bacon. So we didn’t do too bad. It wasn’t too bad when it was night duty. It was quite good. Yeah. CB: And when you did your initial training you had to do a lot of PT, how much exercise did they make you have on the airfields when you were serving there in the front line? AC: We did get none. The only exercise you got your bike — your pushbike. You were given a pushbike and that was your exercise. Backward and forwards on the bike. CB: So you got to dispersal on bikes. AC: Yes. I had a Raleigh. My bike was. Yeah. CB: How about NAAFI? How much did you use the NAAFI and what was it used for? AC: The NAAFI? It was canteen, as I said I was a canteen cowboy. [Chuckle] CB: Sometimes there was more attraction than others. AC: Yeah, well I married her. CB: Yeah AC: I married the girl. CB: Yeah, good move. So when did you marry? AC: December the 1st 1945. Yes. CB: And on that topic, before that you were de-mobbed, so what date were you de-mobbed? AC: Well me de-mob leave went up to July, so I couldn’t tell ya exactly when I left the Air Force, but my de-mob leave ended in July. CB: 45? [Loud background noise] AC: Yes. And I got so fed with being at home I went to the local garage for a job and they set me on straight away. So I I was alright. Quite happy. Yeah. CB: Right. We’ll stop there for a mo. Thank you very much. AC: Okay, thank you. JS: What’s that? [Background noise] CB: Your wife was in the NAAFI but what about the other WAAFs? How much did airmen link with the WAAFs? JS: Lots [Chuckle] AC: Oh terrific. Terrific. CB: Were there dances on the airfield? AC: Yes yes. Well those at Newmarket there was a WAAF there ‘cause I hadn’t met the wife yet, and there was a WAAF there and she was a CO’s driver and she was, oh dear, she was a — and after I thought I’m gonna click here. So I so I got to know her well, but she was engaged. [Chuckle] She was engaged to a soldier. Yes. CB: Soldier? Crikey. AC: So I thought I was going to make hay but I didn’t. She was she was a nice girl. She came from Ilford. CB: Oh AC: That where she come from. Yes. CB: So, these hangers were quite big and so you could get quite a good liaison behind the hanger in the evening could you? AC: You could get three Lancs in there. CB: Right [Laughing] AC: If you if you — the bloke that drove the tractor knew how to manoeuvre them, you can get three Lancs in. That was quite good weren’t it? CB: Yeah. AC: To work on them. CB: And then in time off, the you’d be behind the hanger. AC: Yes. No, no I wasn’t one of them. I used to go down, I used to go down to Ely to go down the town. I used to go down with a lad named Maurice and we’d have a look around town and see if there were any girls there that we hadn’t met before. We was hunters. [Chuckle] It was a good laugh, wasn’t it? CB: Yes, and so clearly, you had some good friendships there. To what extent did you keep in touch with old comrades after the war. AC: Not, not so much. [Background noise] I had one chap, he came from Northampton I think he was one of the closest but at Ely I had — there there was a chap who’d been in the Air Force at Palestine. He lived at, he lived at Newmarket but he’d come to Ely. Yeah, come to look me up. Yeah, Freddie Claydon. Yes. CB: So, what were the old times you were thinking about then? Being in Palestine? We haven’t talked about that, so — AC: Palestine? CB: What what was the routine there? AC: Well, I was on the aircrafts. Would it? No. I was in the MT, didn’t I? CB: Yes. AC: I was in the MT and we had this here Warrant Officer Smudge Smith. He was — had a mobile office. And it was a metal thing and used to get terrifically hot inside. And Smudge, we used to call him. Warrant Officer. [Chuckle] I’ll tell ya, the Air Force had a good going with the, everybody else. We had an army boy. He he he was a batman to the army liaison officer with the squadron. He couldn’t understand how we got away with so much. He said: ‘I can’t get away like you do with the officers in the army.’ He said, ‘You RAF blokes, you’re not in the forces. You’re having the time of your life.’ We did. After I left square—bashing, I tell you what I never looked back. I didn’t write home to mother and say I wanted to come home. No. CB: When you remustered what happened to your rank? AC: Well, well, when I remustered, I was LAC. No, I stayed as a LAC ‘cause I couldn’t get any further until I took another course and I didn’t, that was me mistake. I should have taken took up [unclear] course. That was my mistake. That was the biggest mistake I made. CB: In the desert in Palestine, were you in the desert or were you in a fairly well cultivated area? AC: At a RAF station. At an aerodrome. CB: Yes. Which was that? AC: Pardon? CB: Which one? AC: I was at Ramat David, Ein Shemer, and Kalowinski [?] wasn’t it? Kalowinski. Yeah Ramat David, I rather like that. Ramat David. Yes. CB: Was that because — why was that? What was special about that? AC: Well we was on a bit of a hill and the Jews had got a nice vineyard and we used to raid it. We used to go get the grapes [chuckle] at night. UNKNOWN FEMALE : Hello. Sorry. CB: Hello. We’ll stop a mo.[Restart] So they’d got all these nice grapes but but the trees — AC: The bushes. CB: — the bushes, I mean to say. AC: Yeah, well you just stand there and pull them off. CB: So what did they do about that? AC: Well, they didn’t do nothing ‘cause they couldn’t catch us, could they? We, we took them when they weren’t around. [Chuckle]. CB: What was the airfield, the bases was a well—established airfield, was it? AC: Ramat David? CB: Yes. AC: That was, that was a, that was off the living quarters we weren’t on the living quarters were separate from the airfields. Well they had to be because the Jews used to go down and break glass bottles on the runways at night. CB: Oh did they? Right. AC: Right you see, you did your duties, I always got searchlight duty, and I had to maintain this searchlight and you’d whaff the searchlight round and you’d catch them. There they were breaking glass on the runways, yeah. CB: So what, what — AC: And we weren’t allowed to shoot them. We had to let them do it and in the morning we had to go and sweep it up. Yeah. CB: And what was flying from that airfield? AC: Spitfires and, err what was the American aircraft? CB: Mustang? AC: Mustang? CB: Was it? AC: Yeah Mustang. Yeah 208 208 Squadron had the Mustangs and 32 Squadron had the Spitfires. Yeah. CB: So you were dealing with transport, what, what sort of schedule did you operate in a day because it was pretty hot in the middle of the day. So did you start in the — AC: Yes the middle of the day. 12 o’clock you packed up. You packed up. Then you went back at 6 o’clock at night. CB: So what time did you start in the morning? AC: In the morning? 7 o’clock. CB: And back at six till when? AC: Yours — 7 o’clock till 12 o’clock but you had about — a break for a meal and then you went back at 6 o’clock at night till 8 o’clock. ‘Cause you didn’t do much — there weren’t much flying at night. CB: So where — what could you do in you off duty times? Was it quite remote in this place? AC: In Palestine the off duty time was very very sparse. We used to go down to Jerusalem and Nazareth. Yeah. Nazareth wasn’t too bad. Jerusalem was — Jerusalem was a holiday camp. The Jews used to pop you off when you went up the mountainside. Yeah. CB: Just shoot you? AC: Yeah pop at ya. Shoot ya. Shoot at ya. They had they had a crafty idea to go up to Jerusalem, on the bend of the road going up the hill mountain there, they built a pyramid of stones, so you go along the road and you’ve all a sudden you got this pyramid of stones in front of you. Then they they let go at ya. So it — Palestine wasn’t a comfortable place. No. CB: How many people got hit? AC: I couldn’t say. But I do — what was it? Was it six? Six airmen got shot at in Nazareth walking walking along the street by the alleyway a burst of gunfire, they got shot at. They got injured. Yeah. CB: Did any get killed? AC: No no. CB: What about the — AC: I was — pardon? CB: Go on. AC: I was there when the Jews blew up the front out of — the what was it called? CB: The King David Hotel. AC: King David Hotel. Yeah. CB: Yeah. AC: I was there then. CB: Right. AC: When they blew the front out. CB: And what about the Arabs? Were they around or not it that area? AC: Arabs? A funny thing was we got on well with them. We got well with the Arabs. I mean it was only later on that the Arabs turned because they didn’t get what they wanted. Well I couldn’t blame them. You see when the British forces moved out of Palestine like it was at our camp, Ramat David. The Jews was at the main gate when we was coming — gonna come out. They were waiting to go in and at the other side of the aerodrome there was the Arabs waiting to go on. So they had a fight. Well you know won, don’t ya? CB: Hm. AC: The Jews won. CB: Yeah. AC: The Arabs hadn’t got hadn’t got the ammunition and the guns like the Jews had. Yeah. CB: So were you happy to leave or would you like to have stayed on in Palestine? AC: I was really happy to leave. I was happy to leave. I didn’t think much of the place I can tell ya. No. CB: Did you go on trips to other places in the area or did you stay in the camp? AC: Oh yes.Yes, I was in the MT then, and we used to drive out to different places I was in I was near Damascus once, just on the outskirts of Damascus and we went all over the place, over the desert. One day we was off duty and the despatch rider said to be Geordie. He came from Newcastle, he said, ‘Arthur, I get— if I give you another motorbike,’ he said: ‘Shall we go out on the motorbike? In the afternoon, you see.’ So I said, ‘Yeah.’ So he got me an Indian motorbike? American Indian. Have you seen them? CB: No. AC: They’re like a Harley Davidson and he had the Harley Davidson, and we went in the desert and we had our revolvers and we were shooting at wild dogs until these wild dogs started to chase us. So we opened up and got out of the way. [Chuckle] It’s an exciting life in the Air Force. CB: Clearly it was. AC: I did enjoy it. I wouldn’t have missed it at all. I wouldn’t have missed it. CB: Just going back to the wartime service at Witchford and Newmarket. AC: Yes. CB: Although you weren’t flying, officially, how many hours did you do in total? AC: What flying? CB: Hmm. AC: I never took any recording — any record of it. If they were going up on air test, you say, ‘Can I come?’ and they said, ‘Jump in’ and you just jumped in. You didn’t get no parachute. So — CB: Oh right. AC: So you just jumped in. That was it. CB: So where did you sit on take—off and landing? AC: I I had the privilege of getting to the front of cockpit ‘cause I wanted to be a Flight Engineer. And I was always to the front with the pilot and the flight engineer all sat at the front there, on a canvas belt what the flight engineer sat on. Yeah. CB: A number of people became aircrew because they had seen notices on boards in the army quarters and air force stations looking for — requesting people to apply for aircrew, did you never see one of those? What stopped you — AC: Oh yes, I, I went originally for aircrew. I went originally for it and I passed me medical and I waited but never got called up for it. CB: Oh. Oh right. AC: They had too many didn’t they? CB: They did [pause] ‘cause the losses didn’t continue as high as they thought they would. AC: Pardon? CB: The losses — aircrew losses. AC: Yes. CB: Diminished. So they didn’t have the demand quite that they had expected. AC: There was no flying from Lockheed. No, Lockheed was a training camp. CB: Yes, sure. Right, thank you very much indeed, Arthur. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with William Arthur Coulton Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Chris Brockbank Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-10-20 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 01:14:51 audio recording Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context ACoultonWA161020 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Description An account of the resource William Coulton was born in Derbyshire and worked as an errand boy for the Co-Op until he joined the Royal Air Force in 1943, aged 18. He trained as a flight mechanic and was posted to 115 Squadron at RAF Witchford where he worked on Lancasters. He was later posted to Palestine with 32 Squadron where he worked on Spitfires. He was demobbed in July 1945 and married his girlfriend, Hilda Elsie, who he had met serving in the Navy, Army and Air Force Institute. After the war he moved to North Luffenham and worked as a motor mechanic. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Gemma Clapton Maureen Clarke Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Royal Air Force. Fighter Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain Israel Middle East--Palestine Israel--ʻEn Shemer Israel--Ramat Daṿid England--Cambridgeshire England--Derbyshire England--Rutland Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1943 1944 1945 115 Squadron 208 Squadron 32 Squadron dispersal fitter engine flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Lancaster love and romance military living conditions military service conditions Navy, Army and Air Force Institute RAF Newmarket RAF North Luffenham RAF Witchford service vehicle Spitfire tractor training Women’s Auxiliary Air Force https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/521/8754/PMabeyBC1605.2.jpg f01941cf3417c6042787116b14d105cc https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/521/8754/AMabeyBC161128.1.mp3 30e7facd2dcd1fe4a70a1e84b92b8a42 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Mabey, Bernard Charles B C Mabey Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Mabey, BC Description An account of the resource Nine items. An oral history interview with Leading Aircraftsman Bernard Mabey (b. 1925, 3008464 Royal Air Force), his dog tags, some service material, and two photographs. He served as an air frame mechanic at the Heavy Conversion Unit at RAF Marston Moor. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bernard Charles Mabey and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-11-28 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is Monday the 28th of November 2016 and we’re in Southend talking to Bernard Mabey and he operated in the engineering activities in the RAF. What are your earliest recollections of life Bernard? BM: I was born in Canning Town in a small terraced house. My father was an electrician and I went to primary school in Canning Town until the age of, from the age of five until eleven and then I won a scholarship to a Central School in Forest Gate at the age of eleven and then that was 1936. And of course when war was declared my school, that Central School had been evacuated to Ipswich, just outside Ipswich. I went with them for, I was only with them a couple of months at Ipswich. In fact I was at Ipswich when war was declared so obviously we were evacuated before war started. And I had a sister who was also evacuated to Oxford so, and I had a brother. I was in a family of three. My brother who was working in London. The government decided that then all the evacuees our parents had to pay a contribution towards their keep. So my father, and all I was doing, I wasn’t being educated all I was doing was digging up the grass areas around this primary school in Nacton which is just outside Ipswich and my father said, ‘You’re no point in digging, or staying up there digging. You can come home and get a job.’ So on my fourteenth birthday I went up to London [coughs] up to London, to Snow Hill at Holborn which was a big like unemployment centre and I got a job in a small commercial artists’ as an office boy. I didn’t like it so then I got the job myself with a firm of estate agents and surveyors in Plaistow. This would be in the new year. That would be 1940, early 1940 at, I think, fifteen shillings a week and I stayed with them ‘til I got called up at the age of eighteen. The firm already had one person called up and what they were doing they were paying all the time they were in the forces, half wage. Well my salary when I got called up was about two pounds a week. So I was on a pound a week from the firm. It was a guarantee that you had a job to come back to. I went to Cardington to get uniform and that photograph up there of all the crowd is when we were got our uniform. And from there after about what four or five days we were shipped up to Skegness to do our square bashing for eight weeks and we were parked in all the empty hotels along the seafront and we used to use the old canteen that was at Butlins empire down the far corner for our food. And that was not a very pleasant time. It was in the winter. There was no heating on in these hotels. There was nothing on the floor. It was just bare floorboards and you used to wake up in the morning, my bed was along the bay window and you wake up in the morning your blankets were damp from the dew coming off from the sea ‘cause, you know, you could see it just out the window. And, but after eight weeks I was extremely fit because I used to, when I was at school, going back to that time I did box for the school. I became a member of West Ham Boxing Club and I boxed in the Great Britain Schoolboy Championships. Other: Oh. BM: But I was only what, about, oh under six stone. I was a very small lad. But apparently they thought I was good because I was fast and West Ham were a very good boxing club. One of the best in the country. Anyway, after passing out at Skegness I had, I was posted then to training down at Locking for air frame mechanic. If you were going on engines you would go to Cosford. If you were going on air frames you would go to Locking and that’s where we went and that was, but going back to what you were saying earlier the reason I chose to go in to the air force was because A) I had joined the Air Training Corps in 1941 because we’d moved out of London then down to Laindon because of the bombing. I mean people don’t realised I don’t think that when they started the Blitz it went on for about, oh, certainly longer than a month. Every night. You used to come home from work and my mother would have tea ready. We would eat that and by eight o’clock we were down in the shelter because by five past eight the sirens would certainly go and it was, you could more or less bank on it coming like that and it wouldn’t go all clear ‘til 3 o’clock in the morning. CB: Fifty seven days continuous. BM: Oh yes. And that went on, as I say, for well over a month. I think it went on for more like two months. And I was reading in an article since then that West Ham which, that was in the borough of West Ham lost twenty five percent of their housing stock during the blitz and when you consider that most of their housing stock were terraced houses, and small terraced houses it was quite a lot of damage done and, well during my time working there before I got called up. I worked for this firm of estate agents and there were people getting called up as well and so the rent collectors was not a reserved occupation and so they said, ‘Right. As part of your training Mabey you will do two days a week rent collecting. Which you look after the property and you collect the rents.’ So consequently you’re cycling around on a push bike around the East End of London and, with a satchel and you finish a day with about a hundred pounds in rents but all that few years up to the age of eighteen I never got troubled once, you know. Honesty then was quite prominent. But you saw the tragedy of a lot of women that were left alone with kids ‘cause their husbands had been called up and it was pretty gruesome because a lot of them couldn’t pay their rent and they just vanished overnight. And some of the properties vanished overnight as well because you would go around there the next morning you’d find a big hole. That was just part of my education I suppose because my schooling had finished at the age of fourteen and so when I go into the air force my brother already was in the air force. He was nearly, what, two years older than me. He wanted to be air crew but he was turned down because he was colour blind but I still followed him and I also went for air crew but I was similarly colour blind as well [laughs]. So he finished up a flight mechanic on engines and I finished up, it was not my choice, they just tell you, I finished up flight mechanic on air frames and that was it. And they taught me that down at Locking as I say. I think it was about an eighteen week course. It was after that you’d, then you could look upon the possibility of getting seven days leave. So you’d gone six months plus with no leave at all. And my posting was to Marston Moor, Yorkshire which was very enlightening because bearing in mind that at Skegness discipline was very very strict. To stand in front of a corporal you had to stand to attention. You didn’t speak until you were spoken to. And if you stood in front of a sergeant you felt you were seeing God and that carried on to some degree when you were doing your training at Locking because they were all corporals and sergeants, the instructors. So then you get your kit bag and all your gear and you go up to a squadron in, on Marston Moor which was a wartime ‘drome constructed with nothing of the niceties that you saw at say, ultimately I saw at Waddington anyway. But I remember there you got up to York Station and on York Station there was a shed that you report to and they would say, ‘Where are you were posted to?’ And they would have transport available for you to ship you up to Marston Moor. Go to Marston Moor, go in to the orderly room, hand over the papers, ‘Oh yes, you’ll be, you want to see Sergeant Edie.’ Oh yeah. So I walked over to the hangar and I see a chap there and I say, ‘Can you tell me where Sergeant Edie is?’ ‘Yeah he’s up there on the trestle working on that Halifax.’ So he then just turned around to him, ‘Harry. Someone to see you.’ So he got down from the trestle and I walked up to him. Of course immediately stood to attention and, ‘Sergeant. My name is Mabey.’ And he looked at me. He said, ‘What are you standing like that for? Cut that out.’ He said. ‘That doesn’t happen,’ he said, ‘And my name is not sergeant. It’s Harry.’ And that was suddenly from as I say living in a disciplined atmosphere to get to that and of course when you go to work they give you a bike in, at Marston Moor because the runway was built, a few office buildings, a control tower and things around it and a couple of hangars but accommodation was in nissen huts scattered around and I was in one of four nissen huts on the Wetherby to York Road. Side of the road. Public road. People going by. And there was, you were all and that was accommodated something over a hundred people and no toilets. No washing facilities. You got a stand by tap outside if you wanted water and you’ve got a bike. So you worked out that if you want to go to the toilet there’s the block over there but if you also want to go and have breakfast there’s a block over there and if you’ve got to go to the hangar there’s a block over there so you’ve got the bike and if you got up a bit late in the morning you’d got a choice. What do you want to do most of all? Then you finished up you wouldn’t have breakfast because you knew the NAAFI van would come around about half past nine, 10 o’clock and you’d get a cup of tea and a cake. And that’s what it was like. But you’re going to the canteen of a night time and you’d pull out a couple of slices of bread and a mug of tea which you would put on the stove and toast the bread and warm the tea. So you would ‘cause there were no other comforts. I mean I can say that I never ever had sheets until the last three months of my four years in the air force. All we had was blankets. No pillow cases. Just a bare straw field biscuit. You had three of those and three blankets and you’d sleep on one blanket and have two wrapped around you together with your great coat when it got cold. And on top of that clothes rationing had been going on in the country for a couple of years so pyjamas were a no-no. You couldn’t afford to use clothing coupons to buy pyjamas when you were at home and so consequently when you get in to the air force you ain’t got pyjamas so you just go to bed in your pants and freeze and it was, but the question of wearing a collar and tie never existed. You wore your battle dress with a sweater which you got from the Red Cross. A white sweater and you got white socks from the Red Cross. You know, thick socks which you wore with your wellington boots with the tops turned down and this is where you worked with overalls because the aircraft were always parked out on the dispersal points which were like circles of concrete sprung off the perimeter track. The only time they were in the hangars was when they were going through a minor inspection or a major inspection. Daily inspections, they would be done out in the open. And the daily inspections were the chap on the engines would just run the engines. If the crew had made any complaints about that was not right, that was not right all you did was a daily inspection on the air frame which consist of you’d check the tyres and there used to be a few splits in the tyres. You’d go and get a gun with a rubber handle you know to insert a patch into the tyre but then the next day you’d look at that. It’s been up and it’s landed and that’s gone, come out again. It was very, I wouldn’t say it was poor but the patches didn’t work and it was just like a liquid rubber that you pressed into it. And of course all the controls on those aircraft are in cables. They’re not like electronics now. And all along the fuselage inside you’d got all the cables. Like cables going from the cockpit to the rudder or the elevators and you’d just get hold of the turn buckles and you’d just have to check all those and tighten them all up and then it was ready to go again as far as the, as far as the air frame was concerned unless there was any dents or holes in them. Then you’d have to put a patch on them and that was it. And I lasted there right through ‘til D-Day. VE day because I remember on VE day we had some new chaps had come in from Chittagong. India. They’d been out there servicing aircraft that were dealing with Burma and places like that and they’d been out in the sun too long because they were potty. They’d just announced, you know, VE day. We weren’t allowed to come home and these were just running around the huts banging out the windows with a broom and things like that you know. But there was no celebration on camp really. We just carried on. Some of them said, ‘We’re going home,’ but we weren’t really allowed to. Whether they ever did I don’t know, but and then after that I was sent to, on a fitter’s course, a short fitter’s course to turn me into what they called a Group 1 Trade, Mechanics Group 2. You can get to LAC and you get no higher. That’s you finished. But if you go on to a fitter’s course that’s a higher grade, more money and you can go up to, oh, warrant officer if necessary. And the reason being that when they assembled the Tiger Force in Waddington, this is where they were going to be based, they wanted highly trained mechanics and fitters. They had more training and more competence so, and that’s when I was shipped after that down to Waddington and the Yellow Fever inoculation. But we didn’t have much work to do because it was the people who was doing all the work were the pilots doing training, landing, cross country runs you know and that sort of thing and so we got, I think oh, seven days embarkation leave. I got that about three times. In fact people at home were saying, ‘What the hell are you doing home again?’ And we were there as I say right until VJ Day and so they then asked for volunteers and they didn’t get any to take part in a Victory Parade so the group captain said, ‘Well just take two hundred men out of that lot.’ They had nothing else for us to do and so we were shipped down to Kensington Gardens. And then after that, yes they, my posting came through and I went to [Witney] which was just outside Cambridge and it was Group Headquarters. Lovely ‘drome, you know. Very modern like Waddington was but I was posted to work in the station workshop standing at a bench making modifications for Lancasters and so on. You know, small brackets that had to be modified and so on. Doing that from nine ‘til five with collar and tie on, looking very smart. I remember one day I came out of there and I started walking and someone then shouted at me and I stopped. He said, ‘Airman, you didn’t salute me.’ I said, ‘No. I didn’t see you Sir.’ ‘Oh. He said, ‘What are you doing here?’ I said, ‘I work in the station workshop.’ ‘I see. Well you get a haircut. You need, badly need a haircut. You get a haircut and report to my office tomorrow morning.’ And I thought to myself well if that’s the sort of life so I put in a request and I think they thought they were doing me a favour because living in Laindon a posting to Cambridge is, you know, fairly easy. You could hitch hike home. So they said right if he doesn’t like it there we’ll send him somewhere and they sent me down to Somerset. And I was then servicing, it was a servicing echelon that I was on repairing or servicing Avro Yorks because after the war Avro Yorks were used by Montgomery, Field Marshal Smuts, his was there and they come in for a service and they were lovely aircraft to work on because you would walk all over them. Outside and inside. No problem. Very big. And there I was being a fitter on air frames and I was in charge of a small group of chaps. So one day a new Avro York arrived from the makers, Lancasters and so we had to do what they called an acceptance inspection and, ok. I looked over it inside and outside and the only thing I could find wrong with it was the fact that the undercarriage when it was parked you had what they called a jury strut. That is a metal pole that is framed between the spar of the main plane and also the leg of the undercart and there wasn’t one there. So, so I put it on my report and then the chap who was responsible for the engines he started running them up and well the chocks were there. Everything was all alright. He was running the engines over well they’d also done another modification inside the cockpit. There’s a blower switch. Don’t ask me what. It’s really hot air and cold blower for the engines. Now what that does I do not know but it was not my, more or less part of my employment so that was the engine bloke and there was the undercarriage lever. They’d switched them around for some unknown reason. So this bloke was running the engines and when he thought to select the hot and cold air he pulled the lever but unfortunately that was the undercarriage and so consequently you’ve got a lovely new Avro York. No camouflage on it, you know. It had come straight from out of the manufacturers. It slowly as we stood and watched it slowly go forward. The chocks held it back, the undercart had folded and then the props were going around. They started churning up the tarmac and then it stopped. Well you know where you get, I think the best way to describe it is a cottage loaf which has a bit with the crease in the middle like that whereas the fuselage was like that. Like that. That’s just simply how it went. Collapsed through the middle from the weight and then the circus began. The sergeant came out of the shed, did his nut, went running off to someone. And then a warrant officer came out. He did his nut. Went off to someone. Engineering officer, the flight lieutenant, ‘Oh that was terrible.’ And then the squadron leader came and of course then it finished up with the group captain came out and the person responsible for the engines who was, he was put under close arrest poor so and so. And we had very little work to do then so that’s when I got posted down to Membury which had a lodging, to join a lodging squadron. Still a squadron of Bomber Command but they were lodging on Transport Command territory and that was at Membury which is just outside Newbury. Now that was a terrible hole. In fact after a few weeks it was examined by the Air Ministry and they condemned it. Unfit. And so we were then transferred away from Membury which was a good thing because on the last couple of nights we were at Membury, I remember this quite clearly there were a few what I call rebels in the, in the camp as it were and we went in to Lambourn. The racing area you know to see what was in the nightlife. Having a night of drinks before we moved off. There wasn’t much doing except we came across a hall where they had a do going on and a couple of them went up to the door, knocked on the, ‘Could we come in?’ It was the local hunt ball. Now, you know [laughs] they don’t look kindly on yobs and they still, these ones persisted. I wasn’t looking for trouble so I came away but apparently, and I only learned this the next morning when we were getting ready to go off to our new station, they were allowed in but they were whisked straight through the hall into the back room where they were calmly knocked about in no uncertain way and they looked rough the next day. Bruised and cut because they had dared to, you know more or less visit the local hunt ball. But and then we went up to Netheravon and Netheravon that was a squadron there of Dakotas. The same squadron we had from Membury. We moved them across. And that was rather amusing. I mean bearing in mind I’d got back in to the squadron habit of being, not wearing a collar and tie, just wearing your sweater again and battle dress. So we flew in our aircraft, air crew were, carried us obviously you know. We went as passengers with our personal belongings and all our equipment went by road on truck and that’s how we moved out of Membury and arrived at Netheravon. Now, Netheravon had a complete boundary to it so in other words you had a gate, had a sentry and what have you but when we got there bearing in mind it was also headquarters for Transport Command. One of the units there. So we went straight in to the NAAFI to have a drink and you could see all the way around the NAAFI that the office staff there, the WAAFs all looking smart and elegant and drinking their nice cups of tea and suddenly about thirty or forty yobs come in looking not very smart, not very tidy and all they did was go to the beer tent and start supping beer. Then we had someone who could play the piano and that was it. We transformed the place but, and I was there for what, about nine months, twelve months, and I finished up there. I got demobbed from there. They sent me up but it was the best years of my life in the air force because I was an LAC then, fitter trade and I used to play a bit of cricket and I played for the local, our own squadron and ok they could do with more members so the station picked me to play as well and then part of the Group they picked me to play so I used to go in to the hangar on a Monday morning during the cricket season and the flight lieutenant engineering officer turned around to me and he said, ‘We’ll do the jobs rota. Well now, maybe. How many days cricket are you playing this week?’ I said, ‘Well sir, I’ve got a match on Wednesday, another one on Friday and I’m playing on Sunday.’ ‘Oh. So do you mind if we can fit you into work in between those days?’ [laughs] But that was the only time when I really enjoyed the company because you know the captain of the cricket team in most stations is invariably one squadron leader or a wing commander. Someone you never, you’d rarely get a chance to speak to and all the other are flight lieutenants, flying officers, several sergeants and that’s it. If you get a couple of airmen in it you’re lucky and so they make a lot of fuss of you and I got on extremely well with them, you know. We got to the Group final at cricket and we played at Abingdon in the Group final and it was drizzling with rain and we went out to field in the first innings and we had a, in our team we had a fast bowler who was a Middlesex colt. So a pretty good player and he started bowling with a new ball on a wet wicket, a damp wicket and it finished and I was filled in the slips. And of course this, this batsman he just clipped it slightly, came straight at me. Went right through my hands and hit me there, split it open. I went down on a bit of a muddy, you know, damp pitch in my whites, blood all over the place and then the rain came and so the match was abandoned. But we finished up, we re-played it at Kodak. You know Kodak the camera ground? They had a factory at Harrow just outside London and a big sports ground which large companies did and we played on that, the replay. I know it must have been around about the August time because that was the last match I played and they looked upon it as my demobilisation party. We stopped off in a pub just outside Harrow from the coach. All of us went in there and got really sloshed [laughs]. Now, I think most probably that is my, well the only other thing I can remember then is going up to Preston to get my demobilisation pack. And what I remember clearly then is getting on a bus outside the depot at Preston to go to the station wearing my uniform as usual but with a Trilby hat [laughs]. And that’s where, and of course I got eight weeks demobilisation which meant I was being paid up till almost the end of October which rounded off just about the four years. But my firm had been paying me a pound a week so I then went back to them and renewed my working life with them. But I was fortunate in some respects because at Netheravon they had a forces preliminary exam and I took, well I attended to classes of an evening and I passed it and in fact it’s on the book there. I passed that which enabled me to bypass my professional examination which I later took after I went back into civilian life. The preliminary examination. It was like the equivalent to what you used to call matriculation. So when I later started studying after I got back in to civilian life as a surveyor I didn’t have to go through the preliminary exam. I went straight in for my intermediate exam and then final. So I put it to good use and of course I was lucky enough to qualify and that would be in ’48/49. ’49. And I wanted to earn more money ‘cause there was the only way I got to qualify really was by working, oh what, four nights a week. Evening classes every night and then I got qualified. Bearing in mind my education had finished at the age of fourteen you know that was an achievement to get something but I couldn’t have got anything else otherwise and so, but the firm was still old fashioned and I said, ‘Well I was thinking about getting married,’ you know and he said, ‘Well maybe, you know when you’re married come and see me and we’ll increase your wage.’ I said, ‘Well I’ll never get married on that basis.’ So I joined, I did the horrendous thing, I joined a Ford Motor Company in their property department. In other words I broke out from being in practice but I became their property manager after a few years and from there my career rocketed, you know. I became in demand. I was head hunted twice and I finished up as a managing director of, well the share capital of the company was a million pounds fully paid up share capital and we were making, and I started that company for them. That’s what I was head hunted for. So I had a very very good life then but of course my wife became rather ill and so in the, what, in the early eighties I had a decision to make. Should I give up my job and take care of my wife or just carry on and let me wife, no. So I gave up my job and I was very gratified because my wife then lived for another twenty years. So, you know, that was the right thing to do. That’s, I never regretted it. It would most probably have killed me if I’d have carried on myself. So, you know, it was a very fast life ‘cause I was building, I became a specialist in development of industrial estates. Because, when you bear in mind that before the war factories were put up where the families of the owners decided it would be convenient. The planning laws were very limited. So consequently then war came and every factory in this country was expanded but in a what, a ship shape ad hoc situation and they were not very well designed and a lot of them got knocked out and consequently when war finished this country needed a base to prosper and that base was the development of industrial estates where you’d got a large industrial area where you put factories on it. They did it out to a little point where you could build warehouses on industrial estates but you could not put factories without permission from the Board of Trade and the Board of Trade wanted you to go where they thought unemployment was. In other word up north, Scotland, Liverpool, those sorts of places. So consequently we started persevering with buying large existing factories and modifying them to units. We worked on this principal that if you’d gone with a large factory, I mean I’m talking about factories of three hundred, four hundred thousand square feet and there were factories of that kind scattered around the country. If you’d have gone to the planners with a scheme to, you know, segregate them all in to smaller units say ten thousand feet, something like that, you’d never have got permission. They would never have granted it. So what we did, in other words we designed how we were going to cut that large building up into units and show what modifications had to be done to the elevations but not disclose the fact that the internal layout was going to be reduced to many units. So consequently then we could offer factories to people where they wanted them and that’s where, because you know in those days you couldn’t finance. Most factories that were built before the war they were built out of a loan from the bank and things like that. Whereas really they finished up under the scheme I had going with institutions, hedging funds and insurance groups and it worked very profitably. In fact I would say that I’ve been involved in building factories in most of the major towns in this country. I mean I’ve travelled a lot around this country. But it was a good life. You know. Anyway, I may have left out a lot. CB: Where, where did you meet your wife? BM: I met my wife in, very simply, my mum bless her. She used to be a dress maker and when we moved down to Laindon, when we came out of London and moved down to Laindon because our house had been in London had got badly damaged she used to make dresses and my late wife came to her through a friend of hers and my mum used to make dresses for her. Then when I got demobbed she was very friendly with my mother and she often used to come around there and I’d be sent out the room while these ladies started measuring herself and so on and so forth. I said I wanted to stay but they wouldn’t let me [laughs] and we got friendly and that was it. CB: She was from, she was from the local area. BM: Oh yes. She lived in Laindon. She’d lived in Laindon since before the war. CB: What did she know about the RAF? BM: She wouldn’t know. In fact she felt rather bitter about the RAF because she’d lost her husband and it took me quite a time, I mean we got married in ‘52 and if I tell you that the, although we went abroad on holidays we didn’t go by plane until the 70s. She didn’t like, didn’t want to fly. She had an aversion against flying and the way I got around it was we went for a weekend over to the Channel Islands. I said we’d do a short trip like that. We flew from Southend to Jersey and gradually weened her off it. But she wasn’t, she wasn’t very keen on the air force because she wasn’t treated very badly but she wasn’t treated very well I don’t think. CB: So what happened to her husband? BM: Well, he, he was buried in Belgium and – CB: What was he flying? BM: A Lanc. He was coming back from a trip, an operation over the Ruhr Valley and he was flying over Belgium back and they got shot down and all the crew were destroyed. But other than just the odd letter, the initial letter of, from the commanding officer she never had any conversation with RAF after that. You know, she went out there once I think before, this would be the ‘40s and saw the grave but she was, I suppose, in some respects, to put it very crudely she was almost abandoned you know, because in those times, I don’t know whether you’ve heard this before, it’s quite possible that there were squadrons that were used to take the brunt. Do what you’d call the bread and butter jobs and you know all the new, new boys coming out of qualifying as pilots would most probably be shipped down to those stations. They become almost like cannon fodder and if they were any good they would be shipped then across to 9 squadron or 617 squadron or a couple of other top squadrons. CB: So what squadron was he? BM: He was in 100 squadron. CB: And how many operations had he done? BM: Ten. He was on his tenth one when he got shot down. CB: And when was that? BM: That would be 1943. CB: What was your wife’s name? BM: His name? CB: Your wife’s name. BM: Armon. Her maiden name was Jee. J double E. But her married was Armon. A R M O N. CB: Now you were in London during the war when the bombing was taking place. BM: Yes. CB: So, what was your first experience of bombing? BM: First experience. It was on the Saturday that the Blitz really started and that Saturday I was going from, I’d taken a bus from Canning Town up to Stepney going to a cinema. I think it’s still up there on Commercial Road at Stepney, the Roxy, to see a film. I got as far as Poplar and the bus stopped because the siren had gone up and we were all offloaded off the bus and this was by a pub at Bedet Road in Bow and they had a surface air shelter there and we all herded in to that and first time then you looked up and the sky was full of black spots which were the aircraft all flying in formation and then they started dropping their bombs. There were a bit of hysterics coming from some of the females in this shelter and we were stuck there I know until about oh five, five, 6 o’clock. Eventually the all clear was given and we were allowed back out and I can remember walking down because the main road through Canning Town, we lived in a road that was right off the main road and I remember walking down that road about oh 6 o’clock and I could see my mother stood at the gate looking to see whether I was coming or not. And that’s what I, that’s the first memory I have of – CB: And how close were the bombs dropping to where you were? BM: Well they were dropping all around the place, you know. Not, not close enough to cause any damage to anyone around them but Stepney was just around the back of Limehouse where all the East India Docks were which is where they were attacking all the time. And it was quite, I suppose, continuous was about the best way to describe it. There was, you know, quite a lot of noise and so on and so forth. CB: So the raids started at what sort of time? BM: That would have been round about oh 2 o’clock I would think. CB: In the, in the daytime. BM: In the afternoon. Yeah. CB: In the afternoon. Right. Ok. BM: Yeah. CB: And then on future days? BM: On what? CB: On the days after that? BM: On the days after that never, not much during the day. It was always then around about 8 o’clock at night till 3 o’clock in the morning and that was continuous and of course then and when I moved to Laindon I still had to stay on duty because even, although I was only in my teens we were all on the rota to do fire watching. Although there was an air raid warden in that area our offices were in a parade of shops either side the road and so consequently we, they all had to provide two or three people every night to do fire watching. CB: So would you explain what is fire watching and how did that work? BM: Well fire watching was merely that you would, if they were dropping any incendiary bombs. CB: Where would you be situated? BM: You’d be situated in the office but when the warning went up you would then go to the front door and you would stand in the front porch and if there was any incidents take place then you would be, have to deal with them and get the fire brigade if necessary if it became too big or deal with it yourself. CB: So your job was partly to summon help. BM: Yeah. CB: To deal with the fires. BM: Yes. You were only there to be the eyes. To bring in the air raid wardens ‘cause there was always wardens about. CB: So in the raids then, how much damage did you see and – BM: You wouldn’t see, see much in the area I was at to be honest. I saw more of it when I went out during the day working. CB: Yeah. BM: But fortunately the parade of shops either side the road didn’t get damaged at all. CB: So when you were out working your job was to collect the rents. BM: Yeah. CB: And just how did you do that and what were the reactions of the people? BM: Well, when you say how did you do it? You’re just knocking on doors and each house knew which day they would be paying the rent. Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, something like that and they knew the time you were going to be there and consequently if you were going down one particular road you would hit the first door. Knock that and they would come to the door and within a few minutes you would see them all appearing all the way along and you just go through them, you know. But I never ever came up against people that were afraid of the future. They were quite, you know, loyal and quite brilliant in their attitude you know. They didn’t fear the bombing. They just thought it part of life. It’s quite amazing really. CB: Families were quite close to each other in those day so – [Phone ringing] CB: Oh we’ll just stop for a mo. [Recording paused] BM: Yeah. Well their reaction was quite superb. You didn’t, they didn’t walk around in fear. They didn’t. They felt that as far as they were concerned you know, they, they couldn’t lose. It was quite amazing their attitude and these were all in poor, what you would call poor living accommodation. They were terraced houses. I think the rents used to be something like around about eight, nine shillings a week. So no cheap money. And they led a poor life. Most of their husbands were all called up. CB: So the fact that husbands had been called up and were in the forces had what sort of effect on their ability to pay? BM: It had a tremendous effect because a lot of them were really on the bone of their whatsits, you know. They just couldn’t afford to pay and some didn’t pay. CB: What did you do when they didn’t pay? BM: Well if you could find them. We always used to say they’d emigrated to Canvey Island. That’s where. Because they used to. I mean I can recall many cases that people who were owing the landlord. Some of them about thirty or forty pounds which in those days was a lot of money. CB: Huge. BM: And they just couldn’t afford to pay it and so what they did they just vanished overnight and you could never find them. It gets wroted off. Because I think they used to get an allowance from the military but that was poor compared to what they really needed. They had hard times and that was why, what used to amaze me, they were having a hard time but they still had a smile on their face. You know they were quite jolly. CB: So you were living in Laindon which was slightly out of town but in their situation a number of them were finding that their houses had been demolished. BM: Yeah. Yeah. CB: What was happening then? BM: Well they, [pause] I suppose, I don’t know, they really, they could always get repairs because during the war there was a government department, War Damage Commission which we used to have to apply to for repairing costs and ok you would get an immediate payment to cover for tarpaulins to go over the roof and also to put up windows. Cover windows. And then you would have to put forward a request for further monies when you had to do the permanent repairs which you didn’t rush to do because no sooner you’d done any further repairs they’d all be damaged again. So you know it was, in fact, that was there was more work. The collecting of the rents was limited to, say, what three hours a week. The work was getting the temporary repairs done to the property in that week. You’d have to sit down and work out with a contractor. You had a local builder that you’d employ to do these temporary repairs and so in other words you know it was all part of one’s training that you were looking after not only the collection of the rents but the management of the actual property. Because all those properties were most probably privately owned by family trusts and people like that or local businessmen. CB: Now when you joined the RAF you came across a number of people from completely different parts of the country. How did your relationships develop? BM: In Yorkshire, I found the people around Yorkshire were wonderful people. You know you would go out of a night time to a pub in a little village, villages like Spofforth. Used to go to Harrogate, Spofforth, Knaresborough and Boroughbridge and they would make a fuss of you. ‘You don’t want to go back to camp yet. Come back with us and ham and eggs. Have supper.’ Now, I’m saying this, I don’t want to upset you but you never had the same conviviality in Lincolnshire. You used to walk into a pub in Lincoln, they wouldn’t take no notice of you. You know. Used to call them a miserable lot of so and so’s. [laughs]. Now don’t get upset. CB: I’m devastated. BM: Are you from Lincolnshire? CB: Rutland. BM: Pardon? CB: Rutland. BM: Rutland. Oh well. CB: Better place. BM: Better. Yes. No Lincolnshire was recognised. We all used to say this and yet it’s strange because last year my eldest son on his computer he saw that a large hotel in Lincoln was offering a good deal. Luxurious hotel. Took up his lady friend. They went up there for three or four days and he said they had a wonderful time. I said, ‘Well that’s not my experience of Lincolnshire. Of Lincoln.’ CB: Lincoln town or other places? BM: Lincoln town. CB: Why did you think that was? BM: I don’t know. I don’t know. I didn’t go into Lincoln town very much because Waddington was such a well built and organised station as it were and you know you could get all the comforts you want in their NAAFI and so on and so forth and rarely did we go out. CB: No. BM: And certainly when I was at Skegness we never did go out. Well I say we never. I did on one occasion because on the seafront in Skegness there was a little sort of Esplanade café come dance floor and we were allowed out ‘til about 9 o’clock at night so I thought well I’d go over there. I used to do a lot of dancing before I got called up so, but I didn’t realise that there you had hobnailed boots didn’t you? During your training. CB: Sure. BM: And of course I went in to that place and asked a young lady to dance in hobnailed boots and I was very popular. CB: Particularly when you trod on her toe. BM: Precisely. So that was the only time I went out in Skegness. Yeah. CB: And did you ever, did you get relationships with people that lasted throughout the war? BM: No. No. CB: You didn’t have a best friend of any kind who started with you? BM: No. No. CB: You played the, played the market. BM: No, I didn’t, [pause] I got friendly with some of the females during my stint in Yorkshire but it didn’t develop into anything that really, no. Not of any consequence. CB: Right. BM: Never continued writing to them after I left or anything like that. When I left I left. You know. CB: All the stations had WAAFs. BM: Yeah. CB: In their own area so how did the, how did you link together there in the NAAFI and – BM: Well. CB: In the messes? BM: In the NAAFI they used to, you know we used to be friendly but if you had a dance they always used to go to the air crew. They were the air crew following you know. They wouldn’t dance with the likes of an LAC. CB: Of the erks. Yes. BM: I’m afraid to say that was a fact. CB: Yeah. BM: But no. The air crew used to come in. I was at a dance, on New Year’s Eve we’d have a dance and they’d take up all the birds. But er – CB: Quite upsetting really. BM: Yeah. [Laughs] although some of them used to work with me. CB: Yes. BM: You know they were – CB: Did they? BM: Some of them used to be flight mechanics. Certainly a lot of them on the electrical side of the trade. Wireless and so on. The cleaner jobs. But not on the dirty jobs. CB: So out on the flight line what were you doing there? BM: Pardon? CB: Out on the flight line on dispersal what was your task and how did the, a day go? BM: Well. The day. You used to [pause] you’d be always doing, check your aircraft and when it was all very clear, ok. You would be just tidying around your dispersal point. Make sure that the concrete area was clearly defined so that when they, they would go and fly into it, not fly but they would motor into it. CB: Taxi into it. BM: Yeah. Taxi into it. And then they would of course turn. CB: Yeah. BM: And you would guide them on that turn and so you would make sure that area was clear and ok. You would then go up to the dispersal hut and stay in there until they came back. CB: So how many planes did you have a responsibility for? BM: Well you’d only have responsibility for about two. CB: Right. BM: There was enough to go around from that point where we were. CB: And you were in a section responsible for the two aircraft so what were the component parts of the people? You were dealing with what aspect specifically? BM: What? Of the aircraft? CB: Yes. BM: Well I’d be responsible for the hydraulics like on the undercarriage. The oleo legs that used to, well the ones that go up and down inside the casing. The tyres. The wheels and the tail plane mechanics and also the ailerons and all the controls and that would be it. CB: And the hydraulics were fed from one of the engines. Which was that? BM: Well the brakes were operated pneumatically but the hydraulics were operated as you say from the engines. CB: So there was a power take off from one of the engines on the starboard side was it? The starboard inner. BM: I can’t remember. I can’t remember on that one. CB: What other trades were there operating at the dispersal? BM: There would be engines. And there would be wireless and there would be electrics but the, the munitions people they always used to load up. They’d come out with their trolley and put what armaments they had to put on in the guns and so on and the bombs. And that was it. That’s [pause] there was nothing else from that point of view and then as I say you would just sit and wait. CB: So the aircraft would be prepared for use. Who was the senior person in your section? BM: It would be a corporal. He would be, he would be the one that would sign up the air worthiness and so on. CB: And he would provide that documentation to whom? BM: He would see, he would show that to the pilot when he came out. In other words the pilots used to. People used to say did you have much contact? As an AC2, AC1 no. No contact at all. Even as a LAC no contact because the aircrew used to get there, go to their briefing. CB: Yeah. BM: And they’d come out to the dispersal point in their car, in their coach and they would just get out. You’d be standing there not far away but as far as they was concerned the coach would come up close to the entrance of the aircraft. They’d get out, into the aircraft and off. And ok the only people they would see would be the corporal or the sergeant. Whoever it was responsible that everything was all alright. CB: Yeah. Did the flight engineer get involved in the signing off of the aircraft? BM: The flight engineers I don’t believe really started operating until about 1945. CB: No. They were there with the big aircraft. So there was a flight engineer in all the four engined aircraft. So your Lancaster, Lancasters had flight engineers and I was just curious to know whether they liaised with the ground crew. BM: Well I was on Halifaxes. CB: Halifaxes first. BM: And I can’t remember ever seeing a flight engineer on a Halifax. CB: They were always there. Yeah. BM: In what year? CB: Well from ’43. So the twin engined planes didn’t have flight engineers but – BM: No. I accept that. CB: Every four engine aircraft had a flight engineer. BM: No but it was a concept that didn’t come out to till later. CB: Yeah. So when – BM: I’ve got a feeling they didn’t come out ‘til about ’44. CB: When the, when the aircraft landed – BM: Yeah. CB: Then what happened? Were you all there to receive it as soon as it arrived? BM: Well we we were in the flight hut. CB: Flight office. Yeah. BM: Which was up by the, and we would just go over to the dispersal point and then we would soon pick it up on the perimeter track and flag it in. CB: Right. BM: And that was it. CB: Yeah. BM: The crew would get out in to the coach and off and we would just then close it all up. Put the chocks down and so on and so forth. CB: So the aircraft would always have the potential for developing faults. BM: Oh yeah. CB: So who would do the communication of that and to whom? BM: Well the pilot used to if there was any faults on it the pilot would give that in his report. CB: Right. BM: To the sergeant. CB: Ok. BM: And ok they would decide whether then it was a major or a minor. CB: Yeah. BM: If it was a minor ok we would deal with it around on the dispersal point. CB: Sure. BM: If it was a major one it could go in to the hangar. CB: Yeah. And what about damage? How often were your aircraft damaged? BM: They got damaged but not very much. Not to that degree. CB: What sort of damage did they come back with? BM: Some of them came back with ammunition holes in it which you would do a little patch on it and things like that. CB: How was the patch administered? Was it a fabric or was it a metal? BM: No. Metal. CB: So how was it attached? BM: Attached with rivets. Used to use the pop rivet gun. Cut a piece of metal. It was very, I wouldn’t say shambolic but it was just to do it very quickly. You would cut a piece of metal to cover the area and then you would drill the four corners, pop rivet it and then go around later all the way through. You know, get rivets. CB: Yeah. BM: Quite. CB: So you’d secure it first. BM: Oh yeah. CB: And then you put the extra rivets. BM: Extra rivets in in between. CB: Now what about painting afterwards? How did you do that? BM: Well be able to just put a bit of a drop of paint on it but they didn’t worry too much about that. Some of those aircraft they looked horrible with the, with the paint job. I mean, you know, you just had some paint and you just brushed it, brushed it on. CB: But it always had paint would it? BM: Oh yeah. CB: Because aluminium’s shiny. BM: Yeah. Yeah. CB: What would you say was your most abiding memory of your time in the RAF? BM: I suppose that when I was at Netheravon the aircraft then had to be, they were all camouflaged, had to be stripped back to their bare metal again. What you would call peacetime and that was a so and so of a job because you had to put paint stripper. And getting it all off by hand it was not very pleasant. CB: How long did that take? BM: Pardon? CB: How long did that take? BM: Oh we had, what, a squadron of about twelve aircraft and it took quite a time. CB: What were the planes? BM: Dakotas. CB: Right. So this is at the end of the war. BM: Yeah. CB: So they were taking the, because they war had ended they were taking the camouflage off were they? BM: Yeah. Yeah. CB: And then what were they applying? BM: Nothing. CB: Right. So just aluminium. BM: Just the bare aluminium and also at the same time we were fitting seats in to them. Like tubular seats. There was one other job that when I was at Marston Moor I had a petrol leak on one of the Halifaxes and I had to take out the petrol tank which was located in the wings and you’ve got to get up on a trestle to more or less get them and they are all, they were not rivets. There’s a sort of a square panel that is screwed into the main plane, main wing and they’re like cheese headed screws and then every, about oh half an inch apart all the way around and in those days you didn’t have [rapid?] screwdrivers and so me being an AC2 at the bottom of the ladder that was your job Mabey. Get that all off. So you’d spend ages getting every screw off, dropped the flap and then disconnect the tank and before you completely disconnected there was always some aircraft fuel still inside. You’d have to load that into a fifty gallon drum, the surplus and then you could drop the tank and when you dropped the tank you put a new one in and then go back again all good. The only advantage was that you knew then you had some cleaning material to clean your uniform because we used to clean our uniforms in aircraft fuel and then lay them out in the wings to dry and – Other: Goodness. CB: So you had a particular aroma that not everybody appreciated. BM: I agree. Yes. That was most probably. CB: They smelled you coming, BM: [Laughs] That was most probably one of the worst periods of my life. Yeah. CB: Now the fuel tank. That’s because it had had battle damage in it was it? BM: Some were. Some were not but it was for one I particularly remember. It had, it hadn’t had battle damage it was just, it had become worn. CB: Oh. BM: And it had to be replaced. CB: Now dealing with that was very dangerous so how, because of the potential for a spark so how was that handled with the screwdrivers and everything? BM: Well it was, you just didn’t, you know I agree on reflection most probably it was a fire hazard but you didn’t consider it. You know, you just had to get that tank out because it needed, it needed to be replaced. CB: I wondered if there were special procedures. BM: No. CB: For safety. Because the plane could be lost. BM: Yeah. CB: Never mind the AC plonk. BM: Yeah. I don’t think there, most probably could have been but I can’t recall them quite frankly. CB: Oh. After the war did you consider joining any associations? Squadron or RAFA. British Legion. BM: Well. I joined RAFA when I was still in the air force at Netheravon. They came to you and this would be in 1947 because I used to wear the RAFA badge on my battle dress although that was not legal but I did join them. But when I ultimately got demobbed belonging to an Association regarding the air force was not foremost in my mind you know. I mean the point is that I had other things to think about then. In fact the strange thing is I only started, I had to go into hospital about, oh this would be about four years ago and in the next bed next to me was the chairman of the local branch of the RAFA Southend. And we started talking and spoke about the air force and he said to me, you know, ‘Why aren’t you a member?’ I said, ‘Haven’t had time. I’ve been busy.’ You know. I had a hectic life. ‘Well,’ he said, you know, ‘You should join. We could do with more members.’ And I did join and then my wife passed away and I became rather active but then the committee decided rather, in my book, foolishly that some of them were going to resign and meant that then the branch had to be closed. And the branch was closed. CB: What sort of people were there? What backgrounds in the RAF were the people who were -? BM: I could never find out. I could never find out because they were rather stand-offish a little. I could never really get to know them quite well. Not to that degree in those few years and they were, I don’t know. Most of them came from what we called Leigh area and they, I always talk about them that they were people who have curtains around their dustbins. You most probably get them in many towns and they and so consequently they seemed to prefer abandoning the concept of an RAF association and turning it in to a luncheon club and I didn’t. I said no. And I’ve been proved right because the silly fools, my membership was transferred to Basildon, right. Basildon now I know are doing exactly what Southend have done. They’ve got about five members that are active. That’s all. So really what should have happened is that, and there’s another branch that’s going to go exactly the same at Thurrock so you’ve got three branches there because the membership is falling, you know, we’re getting older. And so consequently what they should have done is said well look we’ve got when we still had about twenty five members attending meetings on a monthly basis. Keep Southend. Transfer Thurrock and Basildon into Southend. You’ve got your younger committee members and you’ll keep going and now they are going to finish off without any branch in this area at all. Rather foolish. But because some of them felt that well they didn’t want to carry on in their capacity as chairman because their wives were not in good health or something like that. I can understand it up to a point but don’t take the drastic action. CB: No. BM: And they did and so now they’ve got nothing. CB: Did you get the impression that some of, that more of them were air crew or ground crew or what? BM: Oh well with the RAF Association especially in Southend there was an aircrew branch of it. CB: Oh. BM: And they, they used to have their own little meetings. CB: Oh [laughs]. Right. BM: And you know, one particular chap I used to talk to who was in the Aircrew Association and the strange thing is, of my age, when he finished his training as a pilot they liked him as an instructor so they sent him out to Canada to finish his career in Canada teaching. So as far as he was concerned he’d been across the pond. He hadn’t seen any of the war at all. CB: No. BM: And to me it seemed a tragedy that they even split them because the aircrew in total should have still mixed with the others and that was confirmed at where we went the other day. I can’t think of its name now. CB: What? At Aces High in Wendover. BM: Yeah. At Wendover. I mean on that table there were two squadron leaders, one wing commander and a warrant officer. CB: Yes. BM: And also me. CB: Yeah. BM: A leading aircraft man. And they just treated me handsomely. CB: They did. BM: Oh yes. They had no side of it at all and this is the way it should have been. CB: Yes. BM: Ok. When you get in front of them in uniform you stand to attention. CB: Of course. BM: You recog, but you’re not doing that for the individual. You are doing that for the uniform and that was a little thing but they shouldn’t, they shouldn’t cause any segregation at all because – CB: Right. BM: It’s strange because I went to one particular meeting and there was a chap there. He came up to me and he started talking. He was an ex-major in the army and he said this, it was the, oh [pause] it was a special club that they’d formed that did the Normandy landings and he said, ‘You should join.’ I said, ‘Join? I didn’t take part in the Normandy landings.’ ‘What do you mean you didn’t take part? You said you were in uniform didn’t you?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I had a couple of cookhouse blokes working for me. You could say they didn’t take part in the Normandy landings. No. I know they didn’t but we couldn’t have done it without their, them cooking our meals and we wouldn’t have done the Normandy landings without the air force as a back-up. Everyone in the forces at that particular time must have made some form of contribution towards that Normandy invasion.’ And this is was it’s all about isn’t it? They try and segregate it and well they always looked upon you, some of those air crew, a few in civilian life look upon you with an air of superior quality which is wrong. But – CB: Hurtful. BM: Well in business ok. As far as I was concerned you know I was top of the list so they, they didn’t worry me. CB: No. BM: Simple as that. CB: I think we’d better take a pause. Thank you. [Recording paused] CB: So after the war you returned to civilian life in 1947. BM: Yeah. CB: From then onwards what was your perception of the general public’s attitude towards people who’d been in the RAF? BM: They didn’t, on reflection of what I’ve seen lately I realise now that their reception was not as good as it should have been. We all just carried on and as far as I was concerned I don’t think I ever was approached from the time I got demobbed at ’47 you know because there was still a certain creeping in, an air of resentment that there had been a few people that had dodged their responsibilities either through religious grounds or other things and, or reserved occupation and I saw that particularly when I went to Ford Motor Company because I used to be in a specialised department so consequently I had access to a lot of places because I used to have to go to them. And I can remember on occasions when you would meet superintendents who were responsible for the production of cars in quite a large area and they would be an ignorant pig. And you’d think to yourself, well mister, I’m sorry I wouldn’t even employ you to stick stamps on an envelope but because they’d been in a reserved occupation they had a clear field to be promoted. Not because they’d earned it but there was no one else to fill the position and so consequently you had a a backlog like that there and they didn’t want to talk to you about what you’d done in the air force because they hadn’t done it themselves. So they didn’t. They had nothing to discuss. And that was the same in a lot of cases so I mean I can remember in fact the first when I got back the couple of conscientious objectors they’d risen within that small private company quite well because they used to read the bible every lunchtime. They’ sit in the office reading the bible whereas you would go and eat a sandwich they would read the bible but they couldn’t be touched. But they certainly took promotion when it was offered to them and I know, I know of one particular case where people when they went for their medical they pleaded on certain occasions. They got away with it. One particular prominent chap who lives in Southend he did anyway. He was in the medical when I went for the medical because I came to Southend to get my medical and he told me, he said, ‘I had a motor bike accident six months ago. I’m going to tell them I keep on getting headaches,’ and this is what he did and he was classified grade 3. Yeah. And so all the time I used to see him in Laindon when I used to come home on leave there was he you know running around in a flash car and everything else. I know. So the air force and the same with the army, same with the navy those who served they didn’t get the treatment that they should have got I don’t think. CB: The recognition. BM: Yeah. And [pause] but now and the strange thing is the recognition you get now is overwhelming. I mean, you know, I’ve only done two book signings and it’s opened my eyes. I didn’t realise the sincerity that goes in it. I mean people just don’t want you to sign their book. All they want to do is say hello, thank you and shake your hand. That’s more important to them than your signature which astonishes me. I didn’t, because that sort of feeling didn’t exist when you first got demobbed. Anyway. [laughs]. CB: Thanks. [Recording paused] CB: Victory Parade. BM: Pardon? CB: For the Victory Parade. BM: Yeah. CB: Yeah. BM: And we had Lee Enfield 303 you know. We were carrying that around. And it’s a twenty mile area, route that we’d taken. We’d got up to Tottenham Court Road and we’d just turned into Oxford Street and we had the air force band in front of us and they played the Dambusters March and that was set alight all the people almost and the cheers and the applause was absolutely overwhelming. I’ll remember that till I pop off you know. It was really, it put a lump in your throat and especially in Oxford Street. It’s all these buildings with windows above them and there were people at the windows and they were throwing coins. CB: Were they? BM: And bars and chocolate. The bloke next to me got hit by a bar of chocolate of all things you know. And this, this was happening there. You couldn’t stop to pick the stuff up. CB: No. BM: You had to just had to carry on walking. CB: Amazing. BM: And then of course with all processions they do stop for a little while to more or less they get a bit of a backlog don’t they? CB: Yeah. Yeah. BM: And then you’re amongst it all and you’re more or less really – CB: Yeah. BM: Visibly making a fuss of you. CB: Yes. The unleashed appreciation. BM: Yeah. But – CB: Extraordinary. Very touching actually. BM: That was touching and but that is soon forgotten you know. CB: Right. We’re stopping now. [Recording paused] CB: Raids. We’ve talked about civilians Bernard but what about RAF and military people’s reactions to the raids? [Pause] Other: Do you mean the raids that took place over Germany? CB: No. The British. The German raids on Britain I meant to say. So where you were stationed. BM: Well er as I say some of them it was – CB: So at Locking for instance. At Locking. BM: At Locking it was a novelty to them. Others who had experienced it in their own town I mean like they’d had, you’d had Coventry, you had Liverpool, you had Southampton and Plymouth. They’d all had a going over. Other: The Midlands. The Black Country. BM: Yeah. Other: Where I came from. BM: Yeah. They had some. Well they were attacking there. In some respects they were attacking the, I mean in the Midlands it was where a lot of the machinery. Other: Where all the manufacturing took place. BM: All the manufacturers. So therefore it was in some respects a legitimate target. Other: Yes. BM: But London wasn’t. Other: No. That was aimed at the population. BM: Yeah. Other: To break the will of the population. BM: So, and Plymouth I suppose it had naval history but not to that degree. And Southampton also but they were really docks areas. That’s what they seemed to want to go for. CB: Yeah. BM: And it didn’t – CB: But particularly in your experience actually in the RAF you mentioned Locking so – BM: Yeah. CB: What? When there were raids in in the Bristol area. BM: Well they, yeah. Well they didn’t – CB: What was the reaction of the people in Locking? BM: Well they were a bit afraid that the war was coming too close to them to some degree whereas others just seemed to think well it was a novelty idea because it wasn’t a consistent attack. It was just a spasmodic attack here and there. I mean the major towns where they hit in this, like you say, Liverpool, Coventry, the Midlands area, London they were continuous attacks for a period of time and they were solely, I don’t think they were other than to destroy the population. CB: The will of the people. BM: Yeah. They weren’t after the, ok that was their excuse they were going for targets but it didn’t bother them you know but – CB: You mentioned other some of your fellow RAF people’s reaction at Locking. BM: Yeah. Well they just became hysterical because it was something they’d never experienced and they were frightened and they were spoken very sharply by some of the non-commissioned officers in the, in the whats-the-name. In the shelters. As they said you know, ‘You’re a disgrace. Control yourself.’ CB: Oh you’re talking about actually in the shelter? BM: Oh yes. Yes. CB: The air raid shelter. BM: Some of them like I say were hysterical and in tears. They were frightened. Simple as that. Because they had not experienced it but others you know who had experienced it it didn’t bother them. In fact they looked at it logically and said you know they’re not going to attack us they’re attacking over there. But this is life isn’t it? CB: Yeah. Now you got leave every six months but you would get forty eight hour passes. BM: Yeah. CB: How far were you able to go and what happened to you then? BM: Well in forty eight hour passes I came home. Mainly because I knew I would get warmly welcomed by my parents because my brother was overseas. I think he was over there for about oh three or four years. CB: Where was he stationed? BM: He was stationed in Egypt then Sicily, Italy, Yugoslavia, Palestine. You know, he had a pretty rough time of it but of course he was on Fighter Command so therefore that was where the fighters were operating. CB: Yeah. BM: I mean bombers could operate from this country to go places. CB: So you were shift work effectively. Was, did you work on a seven day or a five day week? BM: We worked normally on a five day week but there was an occasion when they suddenly decided that they would work on a shift principal. In other words you worked something like around about ten days on right the way through and this was some clown from the air ministry had come down and set this up when I was at Marston Moor. And so in other words we then, you worked say for about ten days and you would have about three days off. And ok some of those time is spent catching up on the sleep you’ve lost and I’ll always remember on this particular occasion when this system was brought in I had not slept during the period I should have been off. So I went on duty and we were sat in the dispersal hut. The aircraft had gone off. This was about oh about 9 o’clock at night and I was tired. It was a cold night and there was a nice big fire in the centre of this you know and I just nodded off to sleep didn’t I? And they tried to wake me when the aircraft came back and I wasn’t having any [laughs] and the sergeant was not very pleased. Yeah. By the time I did eventually come round the aircraft had landed, been parked up and that was it and I’d done nothing. But the only good thing about that scheme it was, it was a way to keep the aircraft, giving them more flying time but it didn’t work and really the only good thing about it was that you could in other words once you’d seen the aircraft off say at about 8 o’clock at night 12 o’clock you’d go into the canteen and you could get your meal. CB: Yeah. BM: And invariably it used to be steak and chips. CB: Did it? BM: Yeah. Oh they’d give you a good meal for that. That time in the morning. And that was the only good thing about it but on that particular occasion I even missed my meal as well. Yeah. But it wasn’t very successful because during the day you were expected to catch up sleep. Well in a nissen hut with about thirty blokes a few of you still trying to get some sleep was hopeless. CB: Now technically you were part of a squadron were you? BM: Yeah. CB: What was that squadron number? BM: It was a conversion unit, Heavy Conversion Unit. CB: Ok. Sixteen – BM: 1652 HCU CB: Right. Heavy Conversion Unit. BM: Yeah. CB: Yeah. BM: And they used to do, during the day, cross country, circuits and bumps, circuits and landings and then when they were needed they used to go on operations as well to make up the numbers. That’s the way it worked. This was just their training with heavy aircraft. In other words they’d done all their, they’d got their pilot’s licence wings working on twin engined aircraft but before they let them loose on a Lanc or a Halifaxe they had to do a couple of weeks. CB: Yeah. So these were all Halifaxes. BM: Yeah. Yeah. ‘Cause the Halifaxes were not looked upon as superior as the Lanc because the Lanc could fly faster. The Lanc could fly higher. Halifaxes used to fly at around about a hundred and eighty at around about oh ten thousand feet whereas a Lanc would go a bit faster than that and they could fly at twelve, fifteen thousand feet. Higher if necessary. CB: How reliable were the aircraft? BM: I would say I never had much experience, if any at all, where the aircraft reliability was put to question. You know, they say that the Stirling was crap. That was a bad aircraft. But I didn’t work on a Stirling. I nearly did. I got posted down to Stoney Cross at Southampton when I was, when I finished at Waddington. And I went all the way down there, kit bag all my gear and they said, ‘Well you’re about three weeks too late. Your squadron moved out to Italy three weeks ago.’ And that was a squadron of Stirlings. And so I was stuck at Stoney Cross in the middle of the New Forest whilst the Air Ministry sorted out where they would then put me. [laughs]. But that was – CB: When did you go to Waddington and how long were you there? BM: I went to Waddington it was most probably, VE day. A couple of weeks after VE day I should imagine. And Waddington I left soon after the Victory Parade in London. CB: Because you were part of the Tiger Force. BM: Yeah. CB: Yeah. Good. Thank you. [Recording paused] CB: So at the end of the war Ron, you’d think, a number of people thought that at the end of hostilities then everybody could leave. BM: Yeah. CB: But actually it was spread out. Why was that? BM: It was spread out I think for economic reasons because they didn’t want to flood the market with labour so much and secondly they devised a scheme which gave you a demob number which was calculated on the age, your age and your years of service. So if like me you were called up at the age of eighteen and you’d only done, what, about four years my demob number was 57. I always remember that as Heinz [laughs]. CB: Yeah. BM: And that was, and when 57, in other words you were all given a number, what your demob number and that would then give an indication when you were going to be demobbed and you used to watch. Ok they’re working on 45 at the moment so it’s weeks before you got yours and I think it was just a question off pushing too many people on to the job market too soon. That’s the only reason I could see for it. Other: But weren’t people tempted to desert when the war ended and just get home as quickly as they could? CB: Good point. BM: It’s strange you should say that because it never occurred to me. In fact when I was at Waddington we were under instructions that when VJ day was declared, you know, you do not go out of camp and we were still on duty but some of the chaps and I can recall at least three or four possibly said, ‘To hell with them’. You know. The war’s over now. And they simply went home that weekend. Other: Yeah. BM: Now whether they ever got caught at it I don’t know but they certainly went off and they hitchhiked because I remember one particular chap, he wanted to get to London. You know, ‘I’m getting there. That’s it.’ So there was that attitude among some but to me it never occurred because as far as I was concerned you know it was the wrong thing to do. You’re still under orders. You know. CB: Yeah. BM: It’s the same after the war was finished you would wonder why anyone would still, especially I had a job ready to go back to. Why can’t you let me go? Well I’m going to go myself then. What are you going to do? Well they had the power to court martial you and they had the power to punish you. So it never really entered my head you know. Other: I suppose you’d got in to a frame of mind. BM: Yeah. Other: Where you accepted orders. BM: Yeah. Other: You know, you’d been in the forces for four years. BM: This is it. Other: And what you do is accept orders. BM: That’s right. Yeah. Others: Yeah. It’s interesting isn’t it? BM: It is. Because the way, the way especially nowadays I mean the younger element today are much more belligerent and I can imagine them saying, ‘Well, you know, I’m off. That’s me. The war’s finished. I’m done. I’ve done my bit.’ But it’s not like that is it? Really. Other: No. BM: It er – Other: But these days’ people don’t have a sense of duty like they used to. The population at large seventy year ago, eighty years ago. BM: Yeah. Other: Generally people had a sense of duty and a sense of public responsibility. BM: Yeah. Other: These days’ people don’t have that. BM: No. No. Other: They don’t have a sense of duty. It’s, it’s an old fashioned concept unfortunately. BM: Well I was brought up by a rather Victorian father. You know. He was strict. It didn’t do me any harm though. But er – CB: But that was only thirty years after the end of the Victorian era. BM: Yeah. CB: So it’s not surprising that that was the attitude is it? BM: Yeah. CB: Right. [Recording paused] BM: The night before there was a dance on again tonight and – CB: This is the Knaresborough Caravan Park. BM: A few birds around. CB: Yeah. BM: Yeah. CB: Keep going. BM: And anyway we went around on our bikes and we picked up these birds in this dance and of course two of us took these two birds back. They’d come from Leeds. Their parents owned a caravan and that was there and we went back to the caravan with these girls. Left our bikes parked outside, inside the caravan. I was a bit backward in those sort of activities because I’d led rather a sheltered life in London with Victorian parents so I didn’t really do anything I should be ashamed of. I put it to you as carefully as that but anyway we fell asleep. Woke up around about 5 o’clock and of course we were on duty at 8 o’clock. At Marston Moor. And so we just said, ‘We’re off,’ you know and we got out this caravan to walk across the fields with these [unclear] there was a bloody farmer who owned the caravan park. ‘Hey,’ he said, [unclear?]. ‘Cheerio.’ On the bike, down the hill out of Knaresborough fast got back to camp in time. Yeah. Quite a narrow squeak that was but – CB: If he’d have had a pitchfork it would have been uncomfortable. BM: But then the other thing is that I got friendly with a family in Spofforth in Yorkshire and the daughter’s twenty first birthday. So of course in the village of Spofforth they had the village hall for this twenty first birthday party and we went over there and we knew the parents but I’d been, you know, going casually around with the daughter, the other daughter who happened to be a married woman incidentally but it was all good and clean. So anyway they said, ‘Well, will you look after the bar in the hall? Would you do that?’ ‘Yes. That’s alright.’ So I got behind this bar in this village hall and there were people coming in and, ‘Yes. I’ll have one with you.’ And of course as they had a drink I was having one was well. So by midnight we were well and truly sloshed and of course the villagers use the hall with their own accoutrements as it were so therefore they had to clear the village hall after all the festivities had taken place and I can remember pushing a wheelbarrow up the main street in Spofforth with all these glasses and food and leftovers on and it was as we were pushing it along well and well and truly sloshed it was dropping off as we went. Tinkling away there. Yeah. They were happy days though really. Other: Well you remember the good bits. BM: Oh yeah. Yeah we were. Other: You remember the good bits. BM: As I say we had some. When I finished in the air force and I started having to come down to reality that you know I had had very little education. I had to think about what I was going to do with my life and I started studying and I started working. As I say evening classes four nights a week. I could still find time to play cricket and play football in the season and I used to think, I don’t know, we moaned all the time. I was four years in the air force but on reflection I’d had four good years and you miss it. In other words, you know, it occurred to me why didn’t I sign on? I would have been immediately made a corporal and a corporal fitter then you’re on the ranks of promotion and what have you so you do reflect. I mean people moan about it but you do reflect. When you look at it in reality you didn’t do so bad. Other: Well the thing that you did was you went in and you made the most of it and ended up with a proper trade. BM: Yeah. Other: A lot of people did National Service and did nothing. BM: Yeah. Other: They wasted two years of their lives. BM: Yeah. Other: Did nothing at all but at least you actually learned a trade and got a lot of valuable knowledge and experience and enjoyed yourself more as a consequence really. BM: Yeah. CB: The, you mentioned married women. BM: Yeah. CB: Now the reality of course is that there were plenty of people who were married whose husband, the women’s husbands were at the war. BM: Yeah. CB: So how did this work? It was quite innocuous sort of thing but were they at the dances? And how did this work? BM: Oh it used to. I’m talking about this lady at Spofforth. Her husband was in the Middle East and as far as I was concerned we used to go dancing. We used to drink and we used to play, they had that, in this pub where we used to go to they had the, the skittles. Other: Oh I know. BM: In other words, you know, ok, as far as I was concerned the only intimacy, if you like that took place was I kissed her and that was it. Didn’t go any further. And that’s that may have been I don’t know a bit naïve of me but I was most probably a bit naïve at that sort of thing and you know I was never a womaniser to that degree. In fact to be very, extremely personal is the fact that my late wife was the only woman I’ve ever slept with. So it’s as simple as that. I used to have a fling with these ladies but it only was kissing and that was it. So I didn’t do any harm. CB: All honour was satisfied. BM: Pardon? CB: All honour was satisfied. BM: Yeah. Yeah. CB: Yeah. BM: I mean I remember going, and this would be at, at Locking, there was a corporal WAAF there and went to a dance and she was a good dancer and I danced with her. So therefore all the time I was there when there was a dance on she was there. She was available to be a partner on the dance floor but directly I got her outside, ‘Hey. I’m a married woman. Off you go.’ It was as simple as that. And ok nowadays this attitude is completely different but in those days it wasn’t. Other: Yeah the worlds a changed place. BM: Well, you know, you could, ok you were told even by your chief medical officer when you were first called up they showed you various pictures of the problems if you get any sort of disease and so on through sexual activity and so therefore you just kept clear of it and in those days you didn’t have the protection that these youngsters have today and that is a problem. CB: Right. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Bernard Charles Mabey Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Chris Brockbank Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-11-28 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AMabeyBC161128 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Description An account of the resource Bernard Mabey was born in London and experienced the Blitz at first hand. He was a member of the Air Training Corps in 1941, before volunteering for the RAF. He trained as an air frame mechanic at RAF Locking. His first posting was RAF Marston Moor which was a Heavy Conversion Unit. He was surprised by the change in approach to discipline between training and his first posting. He describes aspects of repairing aircraft. He enjoyed playing cricket for the station. After the war he became an industrial property developer. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Julie Williams Maureen Clarke Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Lincolnshire England--Yorkshire England--Wiltshire England--London Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1940 1941 1943 1945 1947 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 02:05:19 audio recording bombing C-47 civil defence demobilisation dispersal entertainment faith firefighting fitter airframe flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Halifax Heavy Conversion Unit military discipline military living conditions military service conditions Navy, Army and Air Force Institute perimeter track RAF Locking RAF Marston Moor RAF Netheravon RAF Waddington sanitation sport Tiger force training York https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/540/8780/AGilbertAC161013.mp3 d34798a44bdedb497b506541d0fc1232 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Gilbert, Alexander Charles A C Gilbert Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Gilbert, AC Description An account of the resource 21 items. An oral history interview with Squadron Leader Alexander Charles Gilbert DFC (b. 1921, 1336682, 186764 Royal Air Force) his log book, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 9, 514 and 159 Squadrons. He was Awarded the Chevalier of the Légion d'honneur in 2020. The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Alexander Gilbert and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-01-13 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is the 13th of October 2016 and we’re with Squadron Leader Alexander Gilbert DFC at Cheddington near Leighton Buzzard in Bedfordshire, and we’re going to talk about his career in the RAF, which was a long one. What do you remember in the earliest recollections then Alex? AG: What do you mean? Going way, right back? CB: Right from when you were really young. AG: Ah, well, my father was a Hansom cab driver in London. CB: Oh right. AG: He joined the Army at the outbreak of World War One and served right through. And because he’d been a Hansom cab driver and knew all about horses they, he was assigned to what they called the Rough Riders, looking after horses, taking them across the Channel to France, and training horses and occasionally going down to Spain to purchase more horses and mules that were brought back for service in France. And at the end of the war, he was at this, this re-mount depot as it was called, at Swaythling in Southampton and he stayed there, and of course, he was married at the time. And from there, what could we say? I started school aged five, and I went to an elementary school and I left at fourteen, and then I was training or trying to become something in the art world, and I attended art school in Southampton. And then in November 1940, I volunteered to join the RAF and was called forward for service on the 7th of April 1941 and despatched to Uxbridge, where I spent three or four days being interviewed and processed, sworn in, all that sort of thing, and then assigned to a trade, and I was told I was to be trained as a Flight Mechanic Air Frames. From there, along with others, I proceeded to Blackpool where I carried out my recruit training on Blackpool sands, accommodated in one of the well-known Blackpool boarding houses. The training, as I remember it, lasted about four, four or five weeks. Recruit training and then we were moved to nearby Kirkham to, to carry out the trade training. The flight mechanics course lasted, as I remember, about eight, eight to ten weeks. At the end of the course, we had a final examination and the top third who passed out were retained to carry on to do a fitter’s course. I was in the top third so I stayed behind and completed the two courses, and at the end of it, I was a Group One Tradesman, Fitter 2A as they called them. I then had my, my first posting which was to what had been Exeter Airport, which was now a station that was occupied by a Spitfire squadron. I was only there about four weeks when the squadron was moved to an airfield near London. The air, the air, the ground crew were not required because the airfield that they’d gone to, already had ground crew, so we were dispersed and posted to various stations and I was posted to Calshot. Calshot was a very dreary place, it hadn’t changed, I don’t think, since World War One. The accommodation was pretty grim, I always remember the beds we had were iron plated, sort of, you know bedsteads. Very, very uncomfortable. The working hours, we worked, weekdays, every day, eight hours a day. We also worked weekends, Saturday mornings and Sunday mornings. We had the afternoons off at weekends, but because Calshot was rather isolated, there wasn’t anywhere to go anyway. So altogether it was a place that I, I really did not like at all. Anyway, apart from the work that we had to do, we also did guard duty at night along the Calshot foreshore, because there was the talk at the time about invasion and all this business, so we, we did these guard duties as well as our normal work. A very cold and uncomfortable place in winter time I can assure you, on the Calshot foreshore, very uncomfortable indeed. In early 1942, it was about March I suppose, a letter was pinned on the notice board. It said that the aircraft industry was expanding and there was a shortage of skilled tradesmen. RAF fitters were invited to volunteer for a short secondment to the aircraft industry. I thought to myself this is a way of getting away from Calshot so I volunteered. I didn’t really know what I was getting into actually. They told me I, yeah, I was to report to an office in Oxford, which I did. When I arrived there they said you will be working at the Cowley Motor Works. It was no longer a motor works of course, they were turning out parts for Lancaster aircraft, and they said, ‘You will work on permanent nightshift’. You start at 8 o’clock in the evening and you worked until 6 o’clock the next morning, with an hour’s break at night, and that was the routine. They gave me an address to go to where I would be accommodated. It was a house in the backstreets of Oxford that was owned by a young couple in their early thirties I suppose, and it was obvious from the start that they resented having a lodger, so there was no welcome at all. The woman took me up to what was to be my room, which had a bed, a table and a chair and that was it. It was a very depressing place altogether. I spent the night there, and the next morning, I had the same reception from this couple, not a friendly attitude at all, so I waited till they’d gone to work, packed my small bag and went back to the office I’d first reported to. The woman I saw, I explained to her about this place and I said, ‘I’m not going to stay there’, I said, ‘I am not going to stay in that place. Can you give me a new address? Another address to go to?’ So she said, ‘Yes, I’ll do that’. She said, ‘Here’s an address in Cowley’. I went there, a very nice street, the house very nice. Nice, nice couple, middle aged couple. The husband worked as a chef at the Randolph Hotel in Oxford. She showed me to my room, very pleasant and comfortable, so that’s where I was whilst I worked at Cowley. The next day I reported to the Cowley Works to start work. The chap I saw said, ‘You will be working with a team of four’, there was already four there, ‘You’ll be, you’ll be number five, working with this team producing spars for the fuselage of Lancaster aircraft’. The four chaps turned out all to be Welshmen, they all came from the same place. They all knew one another well and I was taken into the team and we all got on quite well. That was it for the next five months or so. Then in early September, I received a letter to say that I was to be recalled and to report to Scampton, RAF Scampton, which I duly did, and on arrival at Scampton, I was told I was posted to 49 Bomber Squadron to work on Lancaster aircraft. I worked, I was on, on 49 Squadron through the winter of ’42/43, then in early ’43, I suppose it was about March time, a further letter appeared on a noticeboard to say that more and more four engine bomber squadrons were being formed, and there was a requirement for flight engineers, so I volunteered. At the time, there was no flight engineer training course and they said you would receive your training at the Rolls Royce works at Derby, and you would do a two week course on the Merlin engine and that would be it, which I did. After that, I was promoted to the rank of sergeant, given my flight engineer brevet, and then moved to Morton Hall where I would be crewed up. I got to Morton Hall and found that there were crews already there. There was the pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, wireless operator and the two air gunners and now they wanted a flight engineer. The way we were crewed up was the other engineers and myself were put in to a hut and told to line up along one wall. The pilots then came in and lined themselves up on the opposite wall, and the procedure was that the pilot would look across at the engineers, look at one that he thought would, would be ok and ask him, and I was approached by a chap called Colin Payne who said to me, ‘How would you like to join my crew?’ And I said, ‘Yes please. I would’, because I liked the look of him, and then he took me outside to introduce me to the other crew members and that was it. We were then moved to Winthorpe to do our conversion course on the Lancaster, which we did, and from there, we had our first operational posting and we were posted to 9 Squadron at Bardney. While we were there, we did ten operations, including the three to Hamburg [pause]. At the time the squadrons, the Stirling squadrons in 3 Group were being converted to Lancasters, and new squadrons were starting to be formed. We were told that a new squadron was being formed at Foulsham, and was to be called 514 Squadron. It appears that they wanted two or three experienced crews to start the squadron off and then new crews would be added. So we duly reported to Foulsham where we did four operations with the newly formed 514 Squadron. The last of the four operations was to Berlin and when we were briefed, we were told that when we completed the operation, ‘You will not be returning to Foulsham. You will fly straight to Waterbeach’, which was to be the home of 514 Squadron, which was a rather odd thing to do because we had our belongings and all that sort of thing, and in, somebody wrote up afterwards what this was all about and there’s the letter there. Is that the one? The top one. “Get on your bike” or something, it says. CB: “Posted via Berlin. Take [take] your bike”. AG: That’s it. “Take your bike”, yeah. Yeah. I mean, this was the thing which you normally, they would never allow you to take anything. CB: No. AG: But we took all our stuff with us to Berlin and then to Waterbeach. CB: Because you were moving airfield. AG: That’s right. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, so that was that. So we arrived at Waterbeach, whilst we were at Waterbeach, we did another ten operations. So, so far we’d done ten at Bardney, ten at Waterbeach and I had done, and the four at Foulsham, a total of twenty four. The crew actually had done twenty five, there was one operation that I couldn’t go on because I had developed a nasty quinsy in my throat, and I couldn’t fly for three or four days, so I did one less operation than the rest of the crew. However, when they’d done twenty five and I’d done twenty four, we were then told that you had completed your first tour. Now this was five short of the normal thirty operations. The reason for this, I don’t know, whether it was because of the fourteen operations we’d done with 514 Squadron, ten of them had been to Berlin. Ten. Whether it was because of that, I don’t know but they said, ‘You have completed your first tour’ [pause]. The crew were then dispersed, of course, and posted to various training units. I stayed with Colin and we were posted as instructors to Number 3 LFS at Feltwell [pause], where we were until the, towards the end of the year. Well, we were, this was 1944, Colin said to me, ‘How would you like to go back on operations?’ I said, ‘Well I don’t mind’, so he said, ‘We will be posted to 149 Squadron at Methwold’, he said, ‘And I’ll try and contact some of the old crew members and ask them to join us’. He managed to contact the wireless operator and the rear gunner, and they duly arrived to join us at Methwold. We then picked up a new navigator, a new bomb aimer and a new gunner to replace the Australian. The Australian, by the way, was given a choice, having completed a tour of operations, either to stay in England or to go home to Australia, and he elected to go home. Now, among the operations we did with 149, we did the Dresden operation. We went to Dresden and we also did two Manna operations, dropping food. In our case, we dropped food to people in Rotterdam and The Hague [pause], and that was shortly before the war ended. At the end of the war, we started to get demobbed. I had been offered a four year extension, I didn’t know what I was going to do, by the way. I was married by that time, and my wife Dorothy had been a WAAF MT driver at Waterbeach. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, and as I was offered this four year extension of service, I thought, I’ll take it and then make up my mind later about my future career or whatever. Anyway, I took the four year extension of service, stayed with the squadron until it was disbanded in January 1948, but during that time we did various exercises. We had a three, three, three or four day detachment to Trondheim in Norway, we did a trip to Juvincourt to bring back these chaps who’d been in the Army and been prisoners of war. We had an attachment to Gatow in Berlin, we did a tour of Germany by air, looking at some of the stations that we had bombed, some of the towns that we had bombed to see what it all looked like, and we had this trip to Pomigliano in Italy, and we had this two week detachment in the Canal Zone [pause]. And then, when the squadron was finally disbanded, there was no requirement, of course, for flight engineers, bomb aimers, air gunners or anything like that. The only aircrew they wanted to retain, were pilots and navigators, so I was transferred from the GD branch to the secretarial branch [pause]. I had two short, short postings, one to Watton and one to Bletchley Park which, at that time was the headquarters of Central Signals Area. You weren’t allowed in the house at that time, everything was all locked up and no one ever spoke about what, what was done at Bletchley during the war. No one ever said a word about it. One of the jobs I had to do whilst I was at Bletchley was opening the mail that came in, and one morning I opened the mail, opened this post gram, and found that I was posted to Hong Kong and I was posted to 367 Signals Unit, which was a Y station on Hong Kong Island. I travelled to Hong Kong by way of Singapore, on the troop ship Orbita, which took some five weeks to get to Singapore. I spent three of four days in Singapore and then boarded a Dakota aircraft to get to Hong Kong. We stopped on the way at Saigon to refuel and have something to eat, and the whole trip took eight and a half hours in this Dakota, and then arrived in Hong Kong. At the time, it was at the time that Chairman Mao was winning the war in China and people were flooding in to Hong Kong. Rich Chinese people who could afford anything, and any spare accommodation in Hong Kong was taken up by these people. So in our case, we were, I was occupied in the mess at Kai Tak, and it was a question of applying to get my wife to come and join me, which would take some time, and you just went on the married quarters waiting list, and again there were very few married quarters in Hong Kong, so you just had to wait a long time to get one. Anyway, my wife arrived in September with our newly born young girl, Janet, my daughter, and we were accommodated, like a lot of others, in one room in a hotel. Not, again, not very comfortable, waiting to be allocated a married quarter, but anyway, things in this hotel, it was hot, humid, again terribly uncomfortable, and every day I used to buy the China News, news, newspaper and see if there was any sort of accommodation being advertised. One day I bought the paper, and there was an advert in there which said there was an English family who worked in Hong Kong going home on leave, and their flat would be available. Offers were asked for, so I wrote, I sat down and wrote a letter which brought tears to the eyes of anyone who read it, and posted it off to this man called Alex MacLeod, who owned this flat. A couple of days later, he rang me up at the hotel and he said could I come over and have a chat with him and his wife, so Dorothy and I went across to the island, because our hotel was located in Kowloon on the mainland, and he took me up to the flat, introduced me to Joan, his wife, and after a short conversation they said, ‘We’re going to offer you the flat’. So we moved out of the hotel and into this flat, which we occupied for about two months whilst they were away in England. When they were due back, strangely enough, I rose to the top of the married quarters list and was offered a married quarter, so we moved in to the quarter and there we stayed until I completed my tour in Hong Kong in September 1953 [pause]. CB: We’ll just pause there for a mo. AG: Do you want to go on there because we were now –? CB: Yeah. Give you a – [Recording paused] CB: Ok. AG: Right. CB: So you’re in Hong Kong. AG: In Hong Kong, completed nearly three years in Hong Kong, and when I came home, I was posted to 3513 FCU, Fighter Control Unit in Devonport as adjutant of the unit. We had an operational outstation at Hope Cove with a small staff at Hope Cove and [pause], I’m trying to get my thoughts right here. I completed a tour at 3513 and was then posted to 24 Group on the P staff. This was in Lincolnshire and – CB: So what was P staff? AG: P staff. P2 was Postings – CB: Right. AG: Postings of officers [pause]. I’d been there a short time and it was decided that the P staffs at Groups headquarters would be, would be closed down and they were no longer required, and so I was then posted to our headquarters, Technical Training Command at Brampton, again on the P staff [pause]. And whilst I was there my, I was then granted a permanent commission on the general list [pause]. From then I had various postings, I had two and a half years at SHAEF headquarters in Fontainebleau in France. CB: What did you do there? AG: I was the adjutant of the RAF support unit. Each of the nationalities at Fontainebleau, there were the British, the Americans, Canadians, French of course, they each had their own support staff and I was the adjutant of the RAF support staff [pause]. After that, my next posting was as recruiting officer at Brighton [pause], from there, I was posted to Headquarters Transport Command at Upavon, where I was the P1 staff officer responsible for courts martial boards of enquiry and all that sort of thing. I was there for only a few months when I was promoted to Squadron Leader and posted to the record office at Barnwood in Gloucester, where I was on the staff of the air commodore, the AOC [pause]. I did just over two years there and then I was posted to Aden on a twelve month unaccompanied tour of Aden. Whilst I was in Aden, they had a peculiar arrangement in Aden at the time. It was nearing the time when we were planning to get out of Aden anyway, to leave it and they had what they called continuity posts, which was a posting of two and a half years where you could be accompanied by your wife and family. A non-continuity post was a twelve month unaccompanied tour post which I, which I was in. Again, Aden, a dreadful place, we should have got out of Aden years ago but it wasn’t until 1967 that we finally left. I completed the twelve month unaccompanied tour, and on arrival back at the UK, was posted to Headquarters Strike Command at High Wycombe where I was on the aug staff [pause]. From there, I was posted to the Air Ministry on the staff of the director of manning. I did three and a half years at Adastral House in Holborn, which was part of the Air Ministry at the time. Nearing the end of my service, I had a final posting to Stanmore Park, where I was the deputy CO of Stanmore Park and that was my final posting, having then completed thirty five years in the service [pause]. Knowing that I was to be, leave the service in the October 1976, I had already started to formulate what I was going to do when I left the service, and I had applied for a job with the University of Buckingham, which I got. They had an offshoot of the University at Chalfont St Giles. By this time, of course, we’d bought this house in Cheddington, and the journey between here and Chalfont St Giles was twenty two miles. Anyway, which I had to do every day but I thought, well I’d got the job, and it seemed quite a good job looking after the admin side of the University of Buckingham at Chalfont. I had been interviewed for the job along with three others. They’d had a large number of applications to get this job, but anyway, there was three others and myself who were interviewed for this job. We spent a day at Chalfont, the morning we spent touring the place, and in the afternoon, the interviews were carried out, and the interview for each one of us lasted about three quarters of an hour or so, and we sat there then waiting to see who’d got the job, and at the end of the afternoon, the Vice Chancellor came in and said, ‘We’ve decided to give the job to Squadron Leader Gilbert’. So I thought, right. That was it. Now, this was before I had left the service. He said, ‘We will keep the job open for you until you leave the service in October’ [pause]. Shortly before I retired, I was in my office at, at Stanmore Park and I had a phone call from the Air Ministry, and they said, ‘We notice that you live near Halton’, they said, ‘Would you be interested in a retired officer job at Halton? The job would be for ten years after you leave the service and’, they said, ‘You’ll have to be interviewed of course, at Headquarters Air Cadets’. And I said, ‘Well, I’ll go there. I’m quite interested to find out what it’s all about’. So I, I went to Headquarters Air Cadets for this interview along, along with a number of others, and again at the end of the afternoon, the group captain, who was in charge of the interview board, came and said, ‘We’ve decided to offer the job to Squadron Leader Gilbert’. So I thought, right, I’ve got two jobs now. I’ve got the offer of a job at Halton and the job at Chalfont St Giles, and I thought, well to be very honest, Halton is quite close here, I would know all the routine of the service. I would still be in uniform as a squadron leader at Halton for ten years secure, secure employment, so I thought, well I will have to try, try and take this job. So I rang the Vice Chancellor at Chalfont and said, ‘Could I come down and see you?’ Which I did. I went down to him and explained what it was all about and I said, ‘To be quite honest, this job at Halton, I really know all about it. I know the routine of the service, it’s quite near my home and I feel that really, I ought to take this job’. He said, ‘I quite understand’, he said, ‘We will find somebody else’, and he said, ‘I wish you the best of luck’. So I started at Halton. I was the wing admin officer of Herts and Bucks Wing, Air Training Corps, and my job was taking care of all the ATC squadrons in Hertfordshire and in Bucks, and I completed that job for ten years. And that, I think, is the end of it. CB: You decided to retire completely at age sixty five. AG: At sixty five, I thought I have done enough. I have never been unemployed and I thought I’d, I’d done quite enough and that’s it. CB: Very good. Let’s have a break. [Recording paused] CB: Geoff, thanks, sorry Alex. Thanks very much for all that stuff. What I want to do is run through some individual items. One of the things we touched on was Manna. AG: Yeah. CB: Now, this is quite important in a lot of ways, so could you just tell us how did you get involved in that and what, what happened and how did you feel? AG: Well on the, towards the end of the war, we were told that the people in Holland were starving and a lot were dying. In fact, I was told eventually that twenty thousand Dutch people died of starvation, so we were told that we were to take part in what we was called Operation Manna. The word comes, you probably know – CB: From heaven. AG: The word comes from the bible, and when the Israelites and Moses were driven out of Egypt, they were starving and Moses prayed for them to get food, and it appears that a heavy dew descended on the land. This dew was sweet tasting and the Israelites were able to eat this stuff and so survive. And that is where, and Moses said, ‘This is Manna from heaven’, and that’s the way it came about. We did two food drops, one to Rotterdam, one to the Hague, flew to Holland with bomb bay laden with food and as we came in, in to the park at low level and dropped the food the people who’d gathered there all started shouting and cheering and all the rest of it. It was a sight that I will always remember, and it made us feel that we’d done something that was really worthwhile and that is the Manna story as far as I’m concerned. CB: Then when you got back? So, you then got back and then what? AG: Well got back and as I say, we did the two, two trips and then we just carried on with normal squadron duties. CB: Right. AG: But this happened, people don’t seem to realise that these drops took place while the war was still on. The Germans had agreed that they would not interfere with the Operation Manna. CB: And what height and speed did you do this? AG: We came in about five hundred feet, and the food was all in sacks on a wooden sort of arrangement. A pallet as they called it, a wooden pallet, and the food was all in sacks and the pallet was just dropped on to the park. CB: A moving experience. AG: Yeah. Very much so. Very much so. Never forget these people. CB: No. AG: Who were all so pleased to see us. CB: And after the war did you ever go to Holland? AG: No. No. No. Oh I went, when I was at Fontainebleau. CB: Oh you did? AG: I used to go, go up there occasionally. Oh yes. Yeah. CB: Right. AG: Yeah. CB: Thank you. [Recording paused] CB: Now we’re just going on to your role as a flight engineer, because the flight engineer’s activities were actually quite busy. If we start with take-off, could you describe the take-off process and how the flight engineer gets involved in that, and what he does? AG: Well at take-off, we go down the runway, the pilot takes the aircraft in to the air, and as he does so, the flight engineer gets the undercarriage up and adjusts the flaps, and that’s, that’s about it until you’re up. And er – CB: But in fact, you take over the throttles at an early stage, so can you just describe that? AG: And, and, yes, once you’re airborne at flying height, then you adjust the throttles to whatever speed, you know, the pilot wants, and the bombing height of course was between eighteen and twenty thousand feet each time. And that was it. Most of the trips took about four and a half to five hours, but of course, a trip like Dresden, we were airborne for eight and a half hours, and we went in across Germany but when we came out, we went north and flew over Denmark and came home, home that way. CB: Right. So when you’re flying as an engineer, what do you do? AG: Well, you’re doing really the log more than anything and anything else the pilots wants you to do, but normally, I mean, the whole crew would settle down really, and you were just airborne hoping you wouldn’t be attacked by a night fighter. CB: Yeah. So when you fill in the log, what are you filling in and with what frequency? AG: The frequency was about every half hour or so and you would put in what you thought was the fuel consumption at the time. CB: So how – AG: That sort of thing. Yes. CB: How do you work out the transfer of fuel and what do you do? AG: Yes. Well, you know that you’re on, say, a particular tank for a certain time and that it was time to transfer or refill that tank or whatever and you would do. It didn’t happen all that often of course, I forget now how many, how many petrol tanks there were on the Lancaster, I think it was two to three at each wing, something like that. I forget those details now, it’s too long ago and regrettably, all the booklets I had on the Lancaster I kept for many years, but with all my travels, eventually they were all discarded. CB: I’ve got a pilot – AG: Regrettably. CB: I’ve got a – AG: My daughter always swears at me, she says, ‘you should have kept all that stuff, Dad’. CB: Yeah. AG: You should have kept it all. Well I know that is true now but hindsight is all very well, isn’t it? CB: Well perhaps it wasn’t so important then. I’ve got a – AG: That’s right. Yeah. CB: I’ve got a pilot’s notes, I’ll lend it to you. AG: That’s right. Yeah. Well I had all the notes on the Lancaster, I could tell you all about it. CB: Yeah. AG: Yes. Yeah. CB: Now, why are you moving fuel? AG: Because of weight, weight really, to get an evenly balanced aircraft. CB: So you – AG: That’s the only, only reason I can recall. CB: So you’re moving it from the outer tanks to the inner ones, are you? AG: That’s right, something like that. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. CB: So we finish the sortie and you’re coming in to land. What does the, what’s the tasks, the role of the flight engineer? AG: Well once we’re on the circuit and we were called in, then it was undercarriage down and just standing by the pilot, and that was it really, making any engine adjustment as we came in. That was all. Yeah. CB: So back on the stage of taking off, at what point and how do you balance the engines? Synchronise the engines. AG: Once you’d got to a certain height. CB: Right. AG: Once you’d got to a certain height, yeah. Yeah. CB: And the purpose of that is? AG: Well you stayed on that, on that engine arrangement whilst, you know, whilst you were in flight. You could have been on that for some time. CB: But – AG: Some time without any change. You weren’t constantly changing. I mean, let’s be honest about it, with these operations, a lot of the time, a lot of the crew were doing nothing. Nothing. I mean the bomb aimer, he was doing nothing down in the front. The ones who were working the hardest were the pilot and the navigator. The wireless operator wasn’t allowed to transmit whilst you were over Germany, and the two gunners were just sat there, hoping that the aircraft wouldn’t be attacked. So there were long periods of inactivity let’s say, on the part of a lot of the crew. CB: So you did a complete tour and other sorties as well. AG: Yeah. CB: How reliable was the aircraft and what sort of snags did you come up against? AG: The aircraft was very reliable because your ground crew were the same people. You had the same engine fitter, the same air frame chap and the same armourer who looked after your aircraft. So after an operation, normally, you would go down to the flight lines, and they would say, ‘We’ve checked everything over. Will you give it an air test?’ So just Colin and I would clamber aboard the aircraft, go up for about twenty minutes, make sure that everything was working all right and land, and that was the air test after they’d serviced the aircraft, and that used to happen practically every time. Yeah. CB: Now going back to the beginning of your career, in volunteering to join the forces, there was basically an option between the Army, the Navy and the Air Force. What prompted you to make the decision you did? AG: I just didn’t want to join the Army or the Navy, and I thought I want to join, join the Air Force and that was it. CB: To what extent did the Air Forces activities in the early part of the war, inspire people of your age? So, Battle of Britain, that sort of thing? AG: Oh well, yes. You see our home was in Southampton, and out of interest, while I was training on that flight mechanics course at Kirkham, I had a phone call from my sister who said, ‘Last night, our house was destroyed’. It was bombed. She said, ‘We’re all alright, Dad and Mum because we were in an air raid shelter nearby, a service shelter and so we’re all alright’. And when I was in, told my flight commander, he said, ‘So you’re family are ok, are they? Nobody’s injured. No?’ I said, ‘No’. He said, ‘Then we can’t spare you any time off to go home’, so that was that. But in Southampton, before I joined the Air Force of course, the Battle of Britain was going on. The first RAF fighter pilot to get the VC got it over Southampton. CB: Nicholson. AG: Nicholson. And he was the first one and I saw him come down. CB: Did you really? AG: And he landed near where I lived, yeah, and it was all that sort of thing that inspired one. Oh yes, you know, join the RAF. That’s, that’s, that’s the place to join. CB: Exciting. AG: Exciting. Yeah. Yeah. And of course, just across the water, the Itchen, was the Supermarine Works. CB: In the Isle of Wight. AG: Was the first place to build the Spitfire aircraft, because the Spitfire, when the trials took place before the war, took place at Eastleigh Airport near Southampton. CB: Yeah. AG: Yeah. So, and of course, the man who invented the Spitfire, RJ Mitchell, lived in Southampton at the time. In fact, there’s the plaque on the house now where he lived. CB: What was the reaction of your parents to the destruction of their home? AG: Ahh well, they, it was just one of the, I mean, this was happening all the time during the war and they rapidly found a place nearby. A house that they rented for the rest of the war. CB: But they’d owned their own home before. AG: No, it was a council house. CB: Oh, was it? Right. AG: It was a council, yes, it was a council house, and so that was that. So they rented this place whilst the war was on, and after the war, they rebuilt the council house where they’d lived and they went back to the same spot in a new house. CB: Did they really? AG: Yeah. CB: And what about your sister’s reaction? AG: [laughs] Well, well, you know it was all sorts of things. Strange things happening during the war and you just accepted it and, you see, you know in Southampton, I forget how many people were killed, between four and five hundred in air raids, and well this was what was going on. People, you know, in those days really didn’t complain as much as they complain today. CB: Your sister is older than you or younger? AG: Older. CB: Older. AG: Older. Yes. CB: So did she have -? AG: She, she, she, she, she was married and they lived in rooms in Southampton, because again, this question of accommodation, you know, wasn’t easy. Yes. And they lived in two rooms in Southampton. CB: Was there a requirement by the government that people should give up space for people to live with them, because of the shortage of housing, or how did it work? AG: I didn’t ever hear that was actually pressed all that much. No, no I didn’t, I didn’t. The only other thing I, I remember about the house being destroyed, was some of my belongings in it of course, and there was a compensation scheme and I got sixteen pounds compensation for the loss of my belongings in that. CB: Right. AG: When, when that happened. CB: How did you feel about that? AG: Sixteen. Well I thought, this isn’t much but in those days, again, sixteen pounds wasn’t bad. CB: No. AG: Wasn’t bad, no, so that was it. CB: Changing now to when you joined the RAF and started your technical training. AG: Yeah. CB: How did that go? How was it set out, mapped out as a course and what did you do in the course? AG: Well it, for each subject that you were taught, they had corporals as instructors, and you just attended this classroom and on a particular day or week they, you were, well they would talk about air frames or, or whatever. Yeah. I can’t, to be honest, I can’t remember a great deal about that. CB: No. AG: It was just that you attended class every day and that was it. Yes. Yeah. CB: And then you went on to the more advanced operate, as a mechanics course. AG: Yes. The – CB: So how different was that? AG: The fitter’s course was more advanced. CB: Right. AG: Yes, and again the detail, after seventy five years, I cannot remember. CB: No. AG: But we did this advanced fitter’s course and that lasted another six weeks or so, so altogether I was at Kirkham – CB: Yeah. AG: You know, for quite some time, doing the two courses. CB: Yeah. Now when you were at Calshot then, on the board, a notice appeared saying they were looking for aircrew, what prompted you to –? AG: No. At Calshot, they were looking for people to volunteer to work in the aircraft industry. CB: Ah, that was the aircraft industry. AG: That was the aircraft industry. CB: Right. Ok. AG: That’s right. Yes. CB: So what prompted you to do that? AG: Well I saw it as a way of getting out of Calshot. CB: Yes. AG: To be quite honest, I thought I’ll get away from this dreary place but I didn’t realise what I was getting in to, because the work in the aircraft industry was jolly hard. And long hours, long hours. I mean, 8 o’clock in the evening till 6 o’clock the next morning with an hour’s break in the middle of the night, and that was – [phone ringing] AG: Ah – CB: Stop for a mo. [Recording paused] AG: Is that yours? CB: No, it’s yours. AG: That was, that was, that was as I said, I didn’t – CB: This was at Cowley. AG: I didn’t know what I‘d let myself in for. CB: No. AG: But if I’d, if I’d have known, I probably wouldn’t have volunteered. CB: Yes. AG: But however yeah, well it was because it was long hours. CB: Yeah. AG: And it was every night of the week except one. We had one night off at the end of the week. CB: So, so what exactly were you making that was part of the Lancaster? AG: These spars for the fuselage. CB: Right. AG: Yeah. CB: So they’re effectively the circles of structure that hold the – AG: That’s right. CB: Skin together. AG: Yeah. That hold the skin together. That’s it. CB: Right. AG: That was, yeah, yeah, along with these four Welshmen. CB: But you got on well together so that was good. AG: Oh we got along well together. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. CB: So then you mentioned that you were recalled by the RAF to go back to a, to the front line as it were. AG: Yeah. CB: And you went to 49 Squadron. What did you do? AG: Well I went to Scampton first. CB: Scampton. What did you do there? AG: Which was the base station. CB: Yeah. AG: As they called it. CB: Ok. AG: Yeah. CB: Scampton so – AG: One of the satellites was 49 Bomber Squadron. CB: Right. AG: And that’s where I went and – CB: Doing what? AG: Working on Lancasters. CB: Right. What sort of things were you doing on the Lancaster? AG: Well anything that needed doing to the fuselage or whatever, yeah, anything. CB: How did the ground crews on the front line squadrons react to damage to the aircraft from flak and so on? AG: Well, again, people just got on with it, you know. If there was damage, you just repaired it and that was it. Yeah. CB: How did, how did you put patches on? AG: Oh well with, with rivets or whatever, but again, getting into the detail of all this now, Chris, I’m afraid I can’t – CB: That’s ok. AG: I can’t remember it all. CB: It’s ok. It’s simply that on some planes that had fabric. AG: Oh yes, yeah, but certainly – CB: So that I’m drawing a – AG: But certainly not the – CB: Differentiation. AG: Lancaster. CB: No. AG: No. CB: No. AG: No. CB: Ok. So there you are, working on the ground as a rigger. AG: As a fitter. CB: Fitter – AG: Fitter. CB: I should say. AG: Fitter. Fitter Group 1 tradesman. Yes. CB: Group 1 tradesman, and at that point, another letter appears inviting you to – AG: At that point, another letter appears calling for volunteers. CB: Yeah. AG: To become flight engineers. CB: What attracted you to that prospect? AG: Well, I thought, well that sounds alright. Yeah. Yeah. I’ll give that a go. So I volunteered and as I say, after a very short interview, they said, ‘Right. There is no training course at the moment, at the present time for flight engineers, but you will do a two week training course at the Rolls Royce Works at Derby’, and that’s where I went. CB: And that’s where you did your engine training. AG: And I did on the Merlin engine. Price. Predominantly they talked about the Merlin engine. CB: Yeah. AG: And the engine handling characteristics and all this sort of thing. Yeah. That was quite good there, Derby, I mean two weeks wasn’t a long time really. It wasn’t a long training course, was it? CB: No. AG: But at the end of it, they said, ‘You’re now a sergeant, here’s your brevet’, and that’s it and, ‘You will be assigned to a crew’. CB: So this officer selects you at the Heavy Conversion Unit did he? AG: At, at the squadron. CB: Yeah. AG: At the squadron. CB: At the squadron. AG: You were just, you had this short interview. CB: Straight to the squadron. AG: A very short interview. CB: ‘Cause they didn’t have a – AG: Yes. CB: Heavy Conversion Unit then. AG: No. No. CB: No. AG: A short interview. CB: Right. AG: Whilst you were on the squadron CB: Yeah. AG: And then they said, ‘Right. You’re, yeah, we’ll take you as a flight engineer, and you’ll do your training at Derby’. CB: Yeah. AG: And that was it. CB: So you join the squadron, you get in the aircraft. Now how do you feel about your situation? AG: Once we’d started operations you mean? CB: Yes. AG: Ah. I think if you speak to anyone who’s done operations during the war, the first operation, you weren’t worried at all about it because you didn’t know anything about it, and off you went and you quickly, you quickly found out what it was all about, and it was thereafter that you felt a bit twingy at times. Yes. But not on the first operation because you didn’t know anything about it, about operations but thereafter, well. And of course, the whole thing about operations was luck. It was nothing to do with skill or anything else, it was pure luck if you got through a tour of operations. On 514, we were the first crew to complete a tour of operations. The first one. CB: Right. Thank you. [Recording paused] AG: We were very lucky as I say. CB: So, on, on operations then, these can last anything up to eight hours. AG: Yeah. CB: You did a whole tour and more. AG: Yeah. CB: So how would you describe the sort, the operations you went on? Were they eventful or quiet or what were they? AG: No. The, to start with, the operations on Hamburg if you remember, there were three operations over a period of four days and we did three of the, we did all three of the four. CB: Right. AG: And after the first one, then a couple of days later, or perhaps it was the next night we went out again, but according to the logbook, you can see by the logbook, when you were a hundred miles away, you saw the light in the air, and that was Hamburg burning, and then you got near and you did your sortie and you did it. And then, as I say, we did three to Hamburg, three, three trips to Hamburg. Certainly you remember that well enough and – CB: What was the reaction of the crew to that? AG: Well, you know, they [laughs], we just thought, well there you are. In fact, in the logbook too, there’s the piece of paper which is a “News of the World” report who interviewed us. In the logbook. CB: Yes. AG: In the back there. CB: Yeah. AG: Somewhere. And that was after one of the Berlin trips, and I said to them, I said to this reporter at the time, ‘After the war, I’d like to go to Berlin and tour around to see what it looks like’, and it’s in the newspaper report. CB: Right. So was it just a curiosity or –? AG: Curiosity. CB: Yeah. CB: Yes. Yeah. CB: To know how it had worked. AG: That’s right. CB: This, this article says, “Blood red pall – AG: Yeah. CB: Over the heart of Nazi Germany”. Right. AG: Yeah. CB: Ok. AG: Yeah. CB: And did you get attacked on any occasions or how did that work? AG: No. No. Never, never got attacked. Never. No. CB: So the gunners were keeping an eye out. AG: The gunner was keeping an eye out, yeah, poor old Twinny in the, in the, the rear gunner, he often used to get off the aircraft with frost on his moustache. He was the only one who had a moustache and he had the frost on the moustache. It must have been pretty, pretty grim for him. CB: Yeah. AG: Yeah. Especially when the flight was eight, eight, we, as I say, the longest flight was the Dresden one. That was eight and a half hours, but then there was the Nuremberg one which was quite a long flight, and the Munich one was a very long flight. So there were quite, quite a few long flights where poor old Twinny was freezing in the back. CB: The Nurem – AG: There was supposed to be some sort of heating but it’s quite often it wasn’t working. It didn’t work anyway. There you are. CB: The Nuremberg one was clear weather and the loss rate was very high. What do you remember particularly about that? AG: I remember that very, a great deal, the loss rate of aircraft was nearly a hundred. Nearly a hundred aircraft and so you’ll, you know, well there again, I thought, good God, you know. What are we doing, doing this? But there you are, but that was, that was the worst night of the war for the, for Bomber Command. Yeah. CB: In what way did you feel –? AG: Well because of the, the loss rate. CB: Did you see bombers go down? Other bombers. AG: At times, at times, at times you did, ‘cause over the target, you were sort of going in there about eighteen, eighteen to twenty thousand feet, but the German night fighters would fly above you and drop what they called candle flares, and these things slowly floated down and lit up the whole area. CB: With a view to enabling them to see. AG: With a view, with a view to them picking out the aircraft to attack. CB: Right. AG: And you were lucky that you weren’t attacked. Yeah. And again, the bombing run was the hair raising bit, because you came in and you had to go straight and level over the target so the bomb aimer could put his sights right and drop the bombs, but that again, was the hair raising bit, that bit where you had to go the same height for about three or four minutes. CB: And then – AG: Over the target. CB: After the bomb release you still had to go straight and level. AG: After the – CB: To take the picture. AG: Yeah. That’s right and then of course you got out as quickly as you could. Yeah. CB: Yeah. Always one way? Predictably always left or always right or what was it? AG: Not always one way. Normally straight out and away, but I know the thought at the time was let’s get the hell out of here but again, you had to do your job. CB: Yeah. AG: And do that bombing run correctly. CB: Yes. So you talked about Munich, what was partic, apart from the distance, what was particularly memorable about that. AG: Again, I can’t, well, well no, I don’t. We just went to Munich, did the operation and that was it. Yeah. CB: And then you mentioned Dresden. What’s memorable about Dresden? AG: Dresden, I remember Dresden quite well because there was a lot of cloud over Dresden. A lot of cloud. CB: At your height. AG: At, at, at yes, well and below us, cloud below us. Yes, cloud below us. I do remember that quite, quite well, but again, we did the bombing run and of course, as you say, as you know with the bombing run, you were aiming your bombs at the Pathfinder markers. CB: Yes. AG: Yes. You know. CB: Were they clearly visible? AG: Yes. The red or the green markers and you were told at the briefing which ones to go for. CB: Ah, right. AG: To aim the bombs at. CB: And on occasions did the, depending on where you were in the bombing stream, did the markers become obliterated by the fires and the smoke? AG: Oh yes, yes, well they, yeah, that could happen quite easily. Yes, oh yes. The Pathfinders could drop the markers but then the fires would overcome them. Yes. That – CB: And did they re-mark? AG: No. Well, you heard of tales that they remarked, you know. You heard of Guy Gibson and how brave he was at doing this, and they used to hover around the target for some time but there you are. Yeah. CB: So thinking of the war in total, what was the most memorable point in your perspective? AG: Memorable points about the war. To start with getting away from Calshot was quite memorable I must say, working at the Cowley works was quite memorable. The Manna operation was, I suppose, one of the most memorable because to see the way that those people reacted when you dropped the food. I guess that was one of the most memorable. CB: Their appreciation. AG: Yes. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. And the way, the way they all responded when the thing hit the ground, you could tell. There was cheering and shouting and all waving their arms and all this business. Yeah. CB: And – AG: I remember that very well. CB: Yes. AG: Yeah. CB: So when you got back from a sortie, there was always a de-brief. What was the de-brief after Manna flights? AG: Well nothing very much, they just wanted to know whether the thing had gone, you know, because there wasn’t any hindrance as there would have been on an operation, a proper bombing operation. I mean, everything was there, quiet and you just came in to the park quietly and you did your drop. There was no interference from anybody. As I say the Germans had agreed that they would not interfere with Manna. CB: And did you make the drop of the food at a reduced speed or the normal speed? AG: No. At reduced speed, reduced speed. Yeah. CB: To what? AG: Yeah. Well I forget, but we reduced it so we were above stalling height, you know. To make the drop. If you were flying in too fast, you might, you might not drop it on the park, you might drop it on somebody’s house, so you reduced the speed coming in. Definitely, yes. Above stalling height. CB: Good. Thank you. [Recording paused] AG: I forget where we’d been. CB: Now one of the challenges in the bombing war was getting back to the airfield. AG: That’s it. CB: And the British weather with fog. AG: Yeah. CB: Was a pain. AG: Yeah. CB: So how did you deal with that? AG: Yeah. Yeah. Well as I say, we were, we were, we were quite fortunate really but there was one time when we came back and there was this fog, and it was a question of, this fog was going to hang around for some time so FIDO came into operation each side of the runway, you know, these flames and things, so we landed that way. It only happened once. CB: So it was a popular airfield that day. AG: Yes [laughs]. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. CB: Because not many airfields had Fido, did they? AG: No. No. No. No. FIDO. CB: Right. AG: Yeah. [Recording paused] CB: I forgot to ask you Alex, whether you had any links and what they were with the American Air Force or Army Air Force as it was. AG: No. CB: In those days. AG: Nothing. Never. No. CB: But their aircraft – AG: No links whatsoever. CB: No. AG: No. CB: But their aircraft, the Flying Fortress. What did you do there? AG: What? Well he just took us up. CB: So, so you went somewhere where you, what did you do? You flew somewhere. AG: We flew to this base. CB: Yeah. AG: This American Flying Fortress base, met Colonel Jumper, the commanding officer and he, he gave us a flight in the Flying Fortress. CB: So what was that like? AG: Oh that, that was alright. Of course, he didn’t do anything drastic, we just went up and just flew, flew around for a while. CB: Yes. AG: Yeah. But we walked through, through the aircraft. Examined it, you know. Those, at the rear of the flying fortress each side, they had these machine guns, didn’t they? CB: Yeah. AG: Yes. Looked at all that and it was just a day out really. CB: In terms of its sophistication and crew comfort compared with the RAF aircraft, what was that like? AG: Oh I think that, I think we were slightly more comfortable than the flying fortress and the flying fortress crew, I forget how many there were, but I think – CB: Eleven. AG: There were about eight or nine of them. CB: Yeah. AG: Yeah. In this what was regarded, compared to a Lancaster, was a smallish aircraft. CB: Yeah. AG: Yeah but they had all these gunners on – CB: Yeah. AG: On the Fortress didn’t they? CB: Yeah. AG: Yeah. CB: That’s why the bomb load wasn’t very big. AG: That’s right. That’s right. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. As I say, there we are. CB: Right. AG: I’m trying to think of any other highlights. CB: Well. [Recording paused] CB: That’s it. AG: In about April 1945, the rear gunner and I were called in and we were told that we had also been awarded the DFC because of the number of operations. The ten trips to Berlin and all this business. CB: Yeah. AG: So that’s the way we got it. It was regrettable I thought, that the wireless operator didn’t get it for some reason. I don’t know why. CB: No. AG: But it was just the rear gunner and myself. CB: So the pilot and the navigator already had – AG: The pilot – CB: The DFC. AG: They already had it, yeah. At the end of the tour. CB: Yeah. AG: They had got the DFC. CB: Right. AG: The pilot and the navigator only. But in the April ’45, the rear gunner and myself also got it. CB: Right. Ok. And bomb aimer, nothing either. AG: The bomb aimer. Well, the bomb aimer, at the end of the first tour, as I say, was regarded as the old man of the tour. CB: Yeah. AG: He was aged thirty two. Once he went off to this training unit, having completed the tour, we never heard of him again. CB: No. AG: Stan Young, his name was. CB: Right. AG: Stan Young. The pilot was called Colin Payne. CB: Yeah. AG: The navigator was Ken Armstrong. Now that’s another strange story about Ken Armstrong. At the end of our first tour of operations, Ken went off to a training unit, but then I don’t know if you know this, they started training people to work on British Airways after the war, but they already started recruiting them whilst the war was still on. And he, he applied for this and was recruited to go on the staff of British Airways before the war ended, and after the war, he ended up at Hurn Airport near Bournemouth where he operated from with British Airways. Ken then rose up in British Airways, and British Airways eventually did away with navigators and just kept pilots and, strangely enough, flight engineers. They were the only two crew members. And Ken, they kept two navigators back at British Airways headquarters at Heathrow, and he became quite a star navigator with British Airways, and whenever there was a royal flight, even though they had all the navigation aids, they always took a navigator with them, and he went on a number of royal flights and he ended up with the MVO, Member of the Victorian Order. And he became quite well known in British, they all knew Ken Armstrong because he was one of the two navigators left in British Airways, because they didn’t want navigators anymore with all, with all the navigation aids on board. But he, he did become quite well known. Yes. I mean my wife’s husband, Clive, ‘Oh yes’, he said, ‘Ken Armstrong. We all knew Ken Armstrong’. CB: Your daughter’s husband. AG: Yes. CB: Ok. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Alexander Charles Gilbert Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Chris Brockbank Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-10-13 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AGilbertAC161013 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 01:22:03 audio recording Description An account of the resource Alexander Gilbert, DFC, joined the Royal Air Force in November 1940, and started service on the 7 April 1941. He had a long and varied career in the RAF, rising to the rank of squadron leader. On call up, he was trained as a flight engineer, air frames, passing in the top third of his class. He became a Group One tradesman, Fitter 2A, and was posted to RAF Calshot, before spending time working at Cowley Motor Works, manufacturing spars for the fuselage of Lancasters. Alex was recalled and sent to RAF Scampton, where he served with 49 Bomber Squadron, before taking a flight engineers' course and working on Merlin engines at Rolls Royce Works in Derby. Having subsequently been transferred to 9 Squadron at Bardney where he completed 10 operations, he helped form 514 Squadron, flying operations to Berlin, and completing 14 operations. He became an instructor at No. 31 Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell, before returning to operations at 149 Squadron in Methwold. 149 Squadron were involved in the Dresden operation and carried out two trips on Operation Manna, dropping supplies to Rotterdam and The Hague. Alex had various other postings and completed 35 years’ service in the Royal Air Force, retiring at the age of 65. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Vivienne Tincombe Maureen Clarke Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending revision of OH transcription 149 Squadron 49 Squadron 514 Squadron 9 Squadron aircrew B-17 bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945) bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944) Cook’s tour crewing up Distinguished Flying Cross fitter airframe flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew Lancaster military living conditions military service conditions Operation Dodge (1945) Operation Exodus (1945) Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945) RAF Bardney RAF Calshot RAF Feltwell RAF Foulsham RAF Halton RAF Kirkham RAF Methwold RAF Morton Hall RAF Scampton RAF Waterbeach RAF Winthorpe https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/619/8888/PPageTJ1606.jpg b148aa18f4800cd0fb0c18a9acf80a81 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/619/8888/APageTJ160702.mp3 c8fe4cbafca04e08890102b6ebcd50da Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Page, Thomas James T J Page Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Page, TJ Description An account of the resource Fifteen items. An oral history interview with Squadron Leader Thomas Page DFM (1922 - 2017, 922297, 183427 Royal Air Force), his log book, two autobiographies and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 49 Squadron. The collection was The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Thomas Page and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-07-02 Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is the 2nd of July 2016. I’m in Hythe with Thomas Page DFM, who’s going to tell us his story of his twenty-eight years in the Royal Air Force. So, what are your earliest recollections, Thomas? Of life ‒ TP: Of life? Not just of the RAF? CB: No, and then into the RAF. TP: [Sigh]. My earliest recollections of living with my grandmother and grandparents just outside of Coulswood, beside Manston Airfield in the 1920s to the 19 ‒, which date? Which date did we move to ‒, I was ‒, I was nine years old, I was born in ’22, at nine years old we moved from St Peters at Broadstairs where I started school. My father then went to work for his uncle on a farm at Chislet. When I left school at ‒, oh at the age of thirteen, I went to a village school, a church school, at Chislet. At the age of thirteen, I went to a new central school called Sturry Central School um, not very far, at Sturry, which is west of Canterbury, not very far from Canterbury, and I became the first school captain, first boys captain of the school, and equally so, a girl from Chislet School became the first school girls’ captain. Anyway, that was the age of thirteen, but by fourteen I had to leave, like we did in those days and then I just went to work on a farm with my father and his uncle. That was up until the age of ‒, oh dear, in 1936. The farm had to be sold because uncle got too old and auntie got too old, and we went to work on a farm at Westwell, which is about five miles from Ashford on the west side. And as time went on, 1940 came, my ambition rose to the fore and one day I got fed up with what I was doing, I just got on my bicycle and cycled to Canterbury to the recruiting office. That would be in April, April 1940, and then I had to wait until 19th of July when I had to report to RAF Uxbridge. I can remember having to travel from Chislet, from Marshside, which is the area, on my own, through London to find my way to RAF Uxbridge. I’d never been to London, never been on a tube train. Anyway, I remember going in the barbed wire gate entrance, saying, ‘Reporting for duty’, and soon I was joined by the others that were reporting for duty on that day. That was on the Monday and the first words then, CO said ’You do not walk across that square. It’s hallowed ground’. Fair enough. We were kitted up and attested on the Tuesday, and on the Wednesday the whole intake of airmen, having been kitted out, went by tube train to Morecambe in Lancashire to be trained as flight mechanics A. The course finished at the end of 1940 and I was passed out as an AC2, and I went to ‒, I was posted to Number 257 Hurricane Fighter Squadron, whose CO was Squadron Leader Stanford Tuck of the Battle of Britain, and there I was on the airfield with the aircraft, turning them round, filling them up, servicing, repairs and all that sort of thing, doing the daily inspections, but that only lasted three months ‘cause off I went to Gloucester for another course to become a fitter. Er ‒, 1942, and then I was on 71 MU based at Slough, close to the Hawker factory, and there I was involved in mostly with moving and collecting of aircraft between units and stations and picking up crashes, both German and our own, for salvage and, as I say, 1942 came and then there was this notice on orders, fitters required to volunteer to help fly the four-engine jobs and, having seen that Stirling on the ground at Manston, where I was repairing an aircraft, I volunteered. I just wanted to fly. That was in April 1943. A little bit before that, we went to RAF Swinderby, not Swinderby, that was further up, just outside Newark in Nottinghamshire, Winthorpe, Winthorpe, where we were crewed up. The new um ‒. They wanted an air gunner and a flight engineer to join a Wellington Squadron, a Wellington crew that had just finished OTU training, and they pushed us all in a big room and said, ‘Sort out who you want to fly with’, which we did and then we started off with flying Manchesters, training in Manchesters, four wall things and then onto Lancasters until it was time that we were considered proficient to go to a bomber squadron in, as you saw in that photograph, in April 1943. I finished at 49 Squadron in April ’44. Er ‒, I was sent, I was commissioned and I went to RAF St Athan in South Wales to train flight engineers on the ground side. Yeah, I was commissioned at the end of my tour, that would be beginning of ’44, that’s right, commissioned and went down to St Athan and then it wasn’t until 1947 that I went to 44 Squadron Lincolns for a two-year peace time flying tour. CB: I’m just going back a bit. When you volunteered for aircrew, where did they send you to be trained for being a flight engineer? TP: [Sigh] CB: Did they send you to St Athan then? TP: Yes, I went to St Athan to learn all about the Lancaster, inside and out, and then of course, from there to join the Wimpy crew at um ‒. CB: So, they’d done their OTU? TP: They did their OTU somewhere down in the south, yeah. CB: Yeah, so you crewed up and that was at the Heavy Conversion Unit? TP: We crewed up and the first aircraft we flew as a crew, or trained as a crew first of all, was a Manchester, because they were keeping the Lancs for bombing ops and the Manchester hadn’t been ‒, wasn’t good enough. CB: No. TP: Kept having certain engine failure because they were trying out a different type of H-type engine. Anyway, we finished flying training in April and that’s when we went to 49 Squadron. CB: So how many ops did you do? TP: Thirty. CB: Right, OK and what were the most memorable of those ops? TP: The first one [laugh]. CB? Oh, right, what was that? TP: Well, we set off to go to Italy. The target was Spetzia, the docks at Spetzia, in the north-west of Italy [laugh]. When the time for the target came up, normally you could see a raid from miles away, especially at altitude, but there was no sign of a raid anywhere. We suddenly realised we were lost, we found ourselves still over the sea, over the sea, and then they realised that we were over the Mediterranean, we’d ‒, and I said to the skipper, I said, ‘If we don’t go back to base now, we return to base, we won’t get back there ‘cause I haven’t got enough fuel’. So, we turned to come back and after a series of changes in course, we eventually came back out over the French coast, all alone, we flew all alone across Europe on our own. Anyway, we were short of fuel when coming back. On the south coast and we just plonked down at the first airfield we saw, because when we landed, we could see the bottom of the tanks. What had happened on subsequent, on inspection was the main compass was thirty degrees out, so every time the navigator made a course, it kept going off to the right so instead of going towards the north of Italy, we were going down into the Med. I think I saw, as we turned, I think I saw Sardinia and Corsica. Anyway, as I said I told the skipper, ‘If we don’t go back the same way, we’ll never get there. If we don’t turn now’. So, we dropped the cookie in the sea and after a series of various courses, I think we went up around Paris at one stage before we managed to get to the coast, back to the coast. And, as I say, coming across the Channel, they couldn’t be sure where they were and I was saying, ‘We’re short of fuel’. But we did find the south coast of England. Misty it was and when we called up Darkie for our positions and permission to land, there was nothing, no sign at all, nothing, they’d all shut down, so we took a chance, we found the first airfield we could see and we went straight in, when er ‒ CB: Where was that? TP: At Dunsfold, and when we looked in the petrol tanks, we could see the bottom of the petrol tanks. All we had was what was in the back of the tanks when the tail was down. Well, that was a salutary effect. Obviously, the compasses hadn’t been swung properly. Anyway, where’s me log book? CB: It’s in the back of the car. TP: The printed one or my log book? CB: The printed one. You’ve got the other one here, have you? TP: I think I saw it. CB: I’ll stop this just for a moment. So that was your first op. What other memorable ops were there? TP: I don’t know how many ops we did but very shortly, very early on, we did a mining trip to the Frisian Islands. Er ‒, we lost twenty-two aircraft that night off the Frisian Islands. We were down at five hundred feet in cloud, couldn’t see a thing, but as with mines, you have to record their position, where they’re dropped, so we had to drop them in the sea and came back to base. Yeah, then well, of course, the rest you will see, one after the other, mostly in the Ruhr, Essen, Dusseldorf, Nuremburg, Hamburg. Oh, we set Hamburg alight. I was on the two big ones. CB: You were on the two big ones then, were you? TP: Yeah, we really set Hamburg alight. That was the first night we used window. CB: Oh right. So, you were you unopposed? TP: And we could hear the German people saying the aircraft are multiplying themselves [laugh]. Well, then as you’ll see from the log book, there was a series was mostly into the Ruhr. I did two more, two more trips. One, two, two more trips to Italy. CB: Now, going to Italy, normally it meant going through the Alps. So, how did you get on with that? TP: The first time was very clear and we got over ‘cause we were at twenty thousand feet or more, but the second time we ran into storms and cloud over the Alps and we were down to about seventeen hundred feet ‒, seventeen thousand feet and it was a bit dicey to say the least. Er ‒, we got iced up, ice on the wings, St Elmo’s fire on the windscreen [laugh], but other than that it was fairly straightforward. CB: And what was the target then? TP: Target then was ‒, what was those two big towns? CB: Well, Turin and Milan. TP: Turin was one of them. CB: Was Milan the other? TP: Pardon? CB: Milan? Milan? TP: Yes. CB: And then the port La Spezia? TP: Yeah, up in the north-east corner of Italy. CB: North-west, yeah. TP: The others went off very well indeed. There was no trouble there although some aircraft were lost and some aircraft landed in North Africa. CB: Did the Italians put up night fighters? TP: We never saw any ‘cause we never got there. Oh, you mean the two that we did get to there? CB: Yes. TP: We never saw any. CB: No, and what about their flak? Was there a lot of flak? TP: I can’t remember much flak at all, no. CB: And on your raids against Germany, the ops against Germany? TP: Pardon? CB: On the ops against Germany, what about the flak and fighters there? TP: Well, the first time we went to the Ruhr, I think it was Essen, you’ll see it in the log book. I remember, miles away, you could see the target all lit up, ring of searchlights full of flak, searchlights. And I said, I gasped on the intercom, I said, ‘How the hell do we get through there?’ No one answered, each one had his own thoughts. But anyway, we were soon amongst the ‒, in the target area, you would see aircraft catching fire, being shot down, you pressed on, smelling the cordite of the bursting shells around you, um ‒, we never saw much in the way of fighters that the gunners could shoot at, once or twice I think they did. Um ‒, in fact we were very lucky, the worst flak was on the one up to the target, ‘cause you had to fly straight and level and you waited for the bomb aimer to say, ‘Bomb’s gone’, and I knew they’d gone because I could feel the flex, the floor of the cockpit would flex when they release the bombs. We always had a cookie, a four thousand pounder, and about four or five or six five hundred pounders. CB: Yeah, and how much flak did you collect on the way? TP: We didn’t, the only time we collected flak was from the British Navy just off the coast of Cromer on the way home, when we were about three thousand feet with the navigation lights on. That was awful. The wireless operator got filled with shrapnel and he was ill, invalided out. Um ‒, when it happened, I was standing in the flight engineer’s position, ‘cause I had to move about quite a bit and I saw flak going past me [unclear] going past me and the skipper called for reports, and the navigator came up and said, ‘Ralph’s been hit’. So I went back past the navigator, looked at Ralph, got the First Aid. His ‒, the wireless operator had his hand on his desk (you know the position of the wireless operator in the Lanc), he’d got a hole through his hand which was the worst one, and he got flak up his backside, up his back, and he was ‒. I put a tourniquet on his wrist to stop it, and every so often I said to the navigator, ‘Keep an eye on him’, ‘cause I had to go back to what I was doing. Every now and again I’d go back and release the tourniquet. And when we got back at ‒, this time we were flying from Dunelm Lodge, because Fiskerton runway was being resurfaced and it was pouring with rain, and on the downward leg I tried to put the undercarriage down, and it didn’t come down [laugh]. Fortunately, the emergency system, the air system did work and we landed. But Ralph got up out of his seat and walked out to the ambulance. God knows, we went to see him in Maudsley Hospital but never saw him again. The rear gunner disappeared of course, ‘cause he got shot up, shaken up, on a flight where we returned early. We were over the North Sea, and I’d lost an engine, the starboard inner engine, lost the flame covers and exhaust stubs off the starboard inner, and flame was working back over the leading edge of the wing. Not only was it dangerous, it was also a beacon to night fighters and we were over the North Sea. Shut the engine down so we returned to base. We dropped the cookie in the North Sea and when we got back to base ‒. I don’t know if you’ve been to the airfield at Fiskerton? CB: I haven’t, no. TP: They put us down on the short runway to save the long runway for all the other returning aircraft, to save them from being diverted. Anyway, I got the undercarriage down, made the approach and there was a cross-wind, and we floated and so it was a little while before we touched down, and after a while the pilot said, ‘Brace, I’m gonna go off the end of the runway’. Which we did, off the end of the runway, the undercarriage collapsed. Nothing happened, no fire, nothing like that. I remember getting the hatch off the top off the roof and diving straight out and running like mad. They all did. But fortunately, nothing happened. CB: It didn’t go up? TP: No, nothing. Didn’t burn or anything and fortunately no bombs went off. That’s when the rear gunner got shaken up, ‘cause being at the back end of the Lancaster, he probably caught the main shock. He was invalided out. And then you’ll see how we went on. Look, target after target after target, mostly in the Ruhr. We went to Berlin two or three times, flew to Berlin with Wing Commander Adams, the CO, towards the end of my tour when ‒, ‘cause Jock Wallace had finished his thirty in October and we all had to fly as spares with other crew. When he left you see, I ‒, in October, I stayed on as a flight engineer leader until about April ’44, in ’44, that was when I was commissioned and then sent to St Athan. You interested in anything after the war? CB: Well, I am. Just back on ‒, what was your role in the aircraft? TP: Flight engineer. I was virtually second pilot. CB: What did you actually do? TP: Well, if you think of it ‒ CB: From take-off. TP: Pardon? CB: So, from take-off you do the throttles. TP: I would select the fuel, air conditions, oxygen, see that all the engines were running perfectly and then, when the time came, apart from starting the engines, you know, um ‒. When you think of it, the pilot just had his control tower and his rudders and his flying instruments in front of him, I was left to do everything else, speed of the engines, the air speed, the oxygen, everything. The petrol controls were down to the right, you had bunches of instruments to tell you how much fuel you got, what pressures there was, what coolant pressures were, looking after the oxygen supply, everything that the pilot couldn’t do. CB: Yeah. TP: So, you could say you did everything the pilot could do but you never flew the aircraft. CB: So just taking off you’re doing the throttle? TP: Taking off, the pilot would turn onto the runway, he’d line up by using the outer engines and once we were straight and level, he’d say, ‘Full power’, and I’d push the throttles right to the grate. We’d done our pre-flight checks, of course, beforehand and once we were safely airborne he’d say, ‘Undercarriage’, and I’d lift the undercarriage up. Later on, I’d bring the flaps up and then we’d settle down to whatever air speed he wanted er ‒, and then we were off. CB: So, what flap did you set for take-off? TP: Fifteen degrees. CB: Okay, and the tanks were managed by you, the fuel, so what tanks did you start with? TP: We always started with the inner boards, the in boards, and as soon as you were airborne, you went over to number twos, and as soon as number twos getting low enough, you went into number threes into number two, and then you emptied number two and then did the remainder on the number ones. CB: Right, so the number three is out towards, is beyond the engine? TP: Yes. CB: Right on the wing tip? TP: You had number three tank, you had one, two and three on both sides. It had lesser amount of fuel. That was emptied into number two when there was sufficient space in number two that had been used up. CB: Right, so the sequence of fuel flow was through tank number one, because they were linked directly to that. So, number two tank fed into number one, did it? TP: No, you ran on number two. CB: Oh, you did? TP: Until they ran out and then you went back on, we went to number three, the inward boards, number ones, yeah. CB: Right, so when you’re in the air, what are you doing then? So, you’re airborne and got to cruising height. TP: Every twenty minutes I was making a log. CB: Right. TP: Of engine temperatures, pressures, everything, er ‒, and that was it, seeing everything’s alright. CB: And so, what revs were you taking off at? TP: Three thousand per engine. CB: And you’d pull it back after how long before you ‒? And at what level? TP: Until we were safely airborne. We had an override. Normal engine speeds were three thousand plus twelve, we had an override. We’d put the boost up to fourteen, if not more, and then when you were safely airborne, you’d take out the override and continue climbing at twenty-eight fifty, twenty-eight fifty. You never moved the throttles once you were airborne. You left the throttles fully open. You controlled your speed on the engine speed, on the revs, so you were there, you saw he’d ‒, got the speed, the pilot had got the speed that he wanted. CB: OK. So, what about the pitch on the propellers? What did you do about that? TP: [Sigh] CB: So, did you take off in fine pitch? TP: Yeah, always in fine pitch, yes. CB: And then what? TP: And then you’d come back to whatever airspeed you wanted. CB: And you’d change to course pitch for cruising, would you? TP: Pardon? CB: Did you change to course for cruising? TP: It was automatic. CB: Automatic. TP: It was [unclear] and airscrews, yeah. Once you’d set the throttles fully forward, you just controlled your airspeed by the throttles, the revelations, revolutions of each engine. CB: Right, so you had to shut down the starboard inner? TP: Yeah. CB: When you got hit by the Navy ship, what’s the process for doing that? TP: Turn off the fuel cocks to start with, turn off the ignition, just let it run down, feather the airscrew, that is turn the blades so that they’re straight on to the airflow and that was it. See that your fuel was turned off. We had a cross feed if we needed it on the mainframe where you could transfer from one side to the other. Fortunately, I never had to do that. CB: So, with the sorties coming to an end ‒ TP: Pardon? CB: The sorties is coming to an end and you’re coming to land, so what’s your role then? CB: We’d join the circuit and you’d get a number to land, and you’d follow one another round until it was your turn to land and you were given permission to land. Upwind of the airfield, I’d put the undercarriage down, put the flaps down to fifteen degrees, we’d go round to the down-wind position, I’d put the undercarriage down, I’d adjust the webs er ‒, and the rest was up to the pilot. He then ‒, that was only then that he’d have his hands on the throttle controls for the actual landing. TP: He’d do that himself? TP: Yes. CB: Because that was a sensitive task. TP: That was a sensitive task yes. CB: So here we are with one engine out, which upsets the trim of the aircraft. TP: We’ve got trimming controls here. Trimming controls for the [unclear] and trimming controls for the rudder. CB: Right and you’re doing that with the pilot or ‒? TP: He would do that because he’d know what the feel of the controls was like. CB: He had the feel on the stick. TP: To make things easy on his controls. CB: Right, ok, so he’s doing that, then you land so then what? So, you’d taxi on all engines? TP: Taxi on the two outer engines to the dispersal point and then you’d go through the routine of shutting your engines down. CB: So, what’s the routine for shutting down engines? TP: Oh, can I remember now? Obviously, we put them into fine pitch, close the throttles, turn the fuel off, turn the ignition off and they went down. CB: Right, so do you now hand over as the flight engineer, with everything shut down, do you hand over to the Chiefie? TP: Oh, always see the Chiefie. The ground Chiefie? CB: Yes. TP: Yes, and tell him anything ‒, we always saw the ground Chiefie before we took off, and the pilot would sign the log book, the aircraft log book, taking responsibility for the aircraft, and then of course anything we noticed or wanted doing when we came back, we’d see Chiefie and the ground crew, and then we were off to the briefing room. CB: So, with the Chiefie, what was the relationship between the crew and the ground crew? TP: Only the pilot and me went to Chiefie for that sort of ‒, as part of our duties, the others just piled into their appropriate positions. CB: So now you’re at the de-brief, so how did the de-brief run? TP: [Sigh] Sit round a table asking what you’d seen or telling what you’d seen. CB: This is with the intelligence officer? TP: With the intelligence. I was thinking about the ground Chiefie. CB: Ground Chiefie, ok, yeah. TP: We saw the ground Chiefie to say if there was anything wrong and anything, ‘cause they’d take it over to service it, the aircraft –, CB: Okay TP: And then of course, it’s quite a way to the briefing room. CB: Yes. TP: The briefing room was in a little ‒, I went back there years later and it was being used ‒, there were donkeys in it. It was being used as a stable. I don’t know what it had been used for before, before we used it as a briefing room, de-briefing room. Mind you, there was a big, big Nissan hut we used as the briefing room and then we had a hangar, or a tin hut, for a locker room. We had the inevitable bacon and egg sandwich before we took off in the evenings and when we came back, if we came back. CB: What did you take with you to eat when you were flying? TP: We were given a packet of sandwiches and a tin of orange juice and a bar of chocolate. Yep, I carried a small tool kit. Why? I don’t know, I suppose that was if we landed away somewhere. Um-, navigator, of course, had his charts and maps and instruments. Wireless operator had his codes. CB: So, in the crews, were you sitting on your seat behind the pilot or on the folding seat at the side? TP: The folding seat at the side. CB: So that you could monitor the instruments? TP: Oh yes, but more often than not, I was standing up, only now and again could I sit down. CB: Yeah. TP: It was a seat that folded down and hooked up to the side. Er ‒, I just had to keep me eye on the air speed and the revelations, and the boost pressures, oxygen supply, air supply, in fact do everything other than what the pilot had to do to fly the thing. CB: So, you did your thirty ops. How did you all feel having completed thirty ops? TP: Well, it was different because the crew had previously flown on Wimpeys, doing their operational training as a crew of five, they even did one windows raid over Germany before they came to the Heavy Conversion Unit where we were crewed up with myself and another mid-upper gunner, and, of course, we finished at different times. Once the pilot had done his thirty, because he did two or three ops as second Dickie with an experienced pilot before he took his own crew. So, Jock finished in October and I had four more to do, so I was kept on as the flight engineer leader, and it took me round to April 1944 for me to do the four extras or extra four with the other crews. CB: Is that because there weren’t spaces with the other crews? TP: That was because the other crews were short, short of a flight engineer, for some reason or other. CB: Yes. TP: Or it was a make-up crew with the CO, or something like that. One of my flights to Berlin was with Wing Commander Adams. He was an air attaché, apparently, and he’d been sitting at a desk late on and he’d volunteered for aircrew. He said, ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of what I was and not volunteering or not getting onto an operational squadron’. He was a fine fellow, Wing Commander Adams. CB: Did he complete the war? TP: As far as I know. He didn’t do a full tour of course. CB: No. TP: But he commanded a squadron. He was still there when I left it. CB: So, there was a point where the crew, because of the pilot Jock finishing early, there was a point when all the crew effectively dispersed. TP: That’s right. CB: So, what was the feeling then? TP: [Sigh] Sadness in a way because you’d flown together, you’d been through it all, you’d lived together, you were in the same tin-hutted barrack room. CB: The Nissan hut. TP: Nissan hut, yeah, you went out to Lincoln all the time together, you went round all the pubs together, not that I drank much, but you got to know one another quite well and then to suddenly find that it’s no more, you’re out on your own, but that was life. It happened to a lot of crew members very often. When we went to the RAF course, we had to have a spare in the wireless operator’s position after Ralph got hit, we had to have a different man in the rear turret because Taffy, Taffy [unclear] got injured. So, you couldn’t really ‒ CB: That disrupted the family. TP: Pardon? CB: That disrupted the family really. And what was it like when you were then working with other crews on a temporary basis? How did you fit in there? TP: It just fell into place. I mean, you knew what you had to do and that was it. CB: But there was no social link with that because it was a one-off. TP: There was no social, no. CB: So now you’ve finished your thirty, and you went to St Athan as an instructor? TP: I was commissioned at the end of my thirty and I went to St Athan to train flight engineers. CB: What was that like? TP: It was very good. You were teaching them all about the Lancaster [laugh]. Every now and again, there was a MU, Maintenance Unit, on the other side of the airfield, where they were doing repairs, you know, on the Lancasters and now and again, and then you’d get a telephone call, ‘We need a flight engineer to go with the pilot’. CB: For the test flights. TP: Not necessarily a test flight but to and from the factory, to take aircraft to and from the factory. CB: Oh right. TP: Yeah, that was great fun, just the two of you in the aircraft flying low over Wiltshire, over the Malvern Hills, I’ll always remember that, and then from there, I went on, as I say, in peacetime in 44. CB: So now you’re in peacetime and a new squadron, what’s the feeling of the crew then? TP: You didn’t have a crew as such, although crews did tend to stick together. I became the squadron adjutant and the CO’s flight engineer, so it was only when the CO wanted to fly that I flew as his engineer. At other times I flew as and when I was required. CB: What was the Lincoln like compared to the Lancaster? TP: It was a wonderful aircraft in many ways. It was a larger Lancaster. We liked it. We went as a squadron on a goodwill trip to southern Rhodesia, to show the Rhodesians, to say ‘Thank you’, for the Rhodesians who’d flown on the squadron during the war. It was named the 44 Rhodesian Squadron. CB: So, was it more powerful, more manoeuvrable, what was it like? TP: More powerful, bigger engines, yes, bigger in size as well, yes, heavier. The only time we went and did practice bombing stuff was to the ‒, in peacetime, was to the U-boat pens in Heligoland. It was then mostly just training. CB: What were you dropping? TP: I think they had some sort of armour-piercing bomb that they tried out. CB: Was it a big one? TP: We didn’t have any big ones, no cookies, or anything like that. CB: No but was it a tall-boy, which was the ‒, TP: I never flew with a tall-boy. CB: Right. TP: I know people who did. CB: But this was a different type of anti-submarine pen bomb? TP: Yes, that was later, yes. I served in Germany after the war, I served with a Wing Commander who flew one of the tall-boy aircraft and bombed the Bielefeld viaduct in [unclear] and crashed. CB: That was a Grand Slam that did that. TP: Grand Slam yes. CB: The 22,000 pounder. TP: But other than that, the peacetime flying with 44 was absolute wizard. CB: So, you finished your tour on 44, then what did you do? Were you a flying officer by then? TP: I was doing my tour with 44 as is was with peacetime, you get sent away on different courses and at some stages I was sent away on intelligence courses, PR courses, photographic intelligence courses, and so then from there, from 44 Squadron, I was posted via 3 Group Headquarters for three months in Intelligence, of course with the squadron leader, and then I was moved on to Headquarters Bomber Command in the Intelligence Section of the ‒, 1,2,3,4 of us. I was then responsible for target information for exercises and they used to have to collect information as to what to use, what place in England to use as targets, and I’d work ‒, I’d work during the operation down in the ops room, which was quite a thing when I used to think of it. This was where Butcher Harris used to control me from. CB: Yeah. TP: Anyway me, then being a permanent commissioned officer in the secretarial branch, I had to do an accounting course, so off to do an accounting course to Hereford, and my first accounting post was at Bridgnorth in Shropshire, and there I was collecting money from the bank, paying, doing airmen’s paper wage, and then became a flight lieutenant and I was then in charge of airmen’s pay at Padgate in Lancashire, and then still as a flight lieutenant, I was posted overseas to be an accounting officer at RAF Mauripur, just outside Karachi in Pakistan. That was quite a job. I had to pay not only the three hundred-odd airmen of the unit (it was a staging post), I had to pay the airmen and officers that were seconded to the Pakistan Air Force and also those RAF personnel that were seconded to the embassy in Karachi, and I remember my first visit to the embassy, only to find out that the Wing Commander that had been my Wing Commander intelligence officer at Headquarters Bomber Command, was there as the group captain air attaché [laugh]. Is someone at the door, did I see the door move? CB: It’s just ‒ TP: Not to worry [laugh]. CB: Small world. TP: Anyway, that was a two-year posting and it was pretty hot, bouts of dysentery, fortunately it was close to the coast and we had a lido down at the coast so we could go and swim and stay the night. But the conditions around Karachi was horrendous. It was just after the partition of India and Pakistan, where they segregated the Indians, the Hindus on the east side and the Muslims on the west side, and the squalor of the camps was awful. I had a ‒, I had a Pakistani batman, Ashworth, he was very good, do your kit, your dhobi every day because you used to sweat a lot because of the heat. It was just a flat barren airfield. CB: This is Pakistan as an independent country? TP: Pakistan Air Force place, they were flying there. CB: What did they fly? TP: They were flying Harvards. They were the sort of things trainings for [laugh], and the admin officer on the unit was a pilot, he was a pilot, and at that time pilots were required to keep in flying practice, so what he used to do was to borrow a Pakistani aircraft, a Harvard, and I used to go with him and I learnt to fly Harvards. Oh, I had fun flying a Harvard with him until I sent in the bills to headquarters and then they stopped the flying [laugh], yeah. CB: Yeah, amazing. TP: I had fun flying Harvards. CB: So back from Pakistan, where did you go then? TP: I’d been out of the country two years. By then I was courting my second wife, bless her heart. Where do you think they posted me after three ‒, three months at an administrative course in Norfolk? CB: Orkneys? TP: Bircham Newton. CB: Oh right. TP: I was then sent to the Isle of Man. CB: Yes. TP: Way out of England again to train officers [laugh]. CB: Quite a journey. TP: Oh dear, and then as time went on, I was promoted to the squadron leader, quite out of the blue, and told to report to the AOC of Maintenance Command. Hello, hello, come in. Other: Sorry. TP: Ah, can I have a cup of tea for my guest please? He’s a very important guest this man. The AOC, Maintenance Command, he says, ‘Page’, he says, ‘I want you to take a squadron of administrative personnel to support a squadron of airfield construction branch controlled by a wing commander and a squadron leader to the Isle of Kilda in the middle of the Atlantic’. Oh, how much time? Altogether I was out of England for five years. Bless poor Cecilia. Cecilia, bless her, trained as a state registered nurse whilst I was away. Anyway, after that, after I’d finished that, believe it or not, I was appointed Senior Accounting Officer at Uxbridge, the station where I’d joined up. Imagine my feelings walking through the gate. Eighteen years before, I’d walked through that gate to join up and now I was to be the Senior Accounting Officer in charge of all the finances. That was good, that was good anyway. At one stage I got a duty, a royal duty in St Pauls Cathedral, when the Queen was there, I was there as an usher. CB: Thank you very much. Other: Sorry, I spilled a bit, think I filled it up too much. TP: Thank you love. CB: Thanks TP: And the squadron, the station got up a concert party so I got involved in that and we put on a Christmas show in St Clement Danes Church [laugh]. So, what happened after Uxbridge? Three years in the Ministry of Defence, in the Personnel Department, and occasionally I was required to do duty overnight and at weekends as the duty Personnel Officer in case there was any flap on. And then I lived out at Watford at the time and commuted into London every day, because you had to find your own accommodation. The three years passed very pleasantly and then again, I was posted overseas, Germany for three years. I went as a Senior Accounting Officer at Wildenrath in Germany just over the Dutch border and there, believe it or not, I had five hundred Germans on my payroll, plus all the RAF side of it. I was responsible for pay and conditions and court martial and everything to do with personnel B2, B3, B4 and that lasted three years and that was very enjoyable. It was. CB: Cecilia was with you then? TP: Pardon? CB: Cecilia was with you then. TP: No, she wasn’t. She was still in England. She was still at ‒. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes. CB: Paying all these Germans and British people. TP: I mean, going to places I’d been out to bomb, Gelsenkirchen. I was close up to the Ruhr you see. It was quite funny really. At one stage a collection of officers, Army and Navy, went on a goodwill tour to the Bürgermeister at Hamburg and we were in the Bürgermeister’s office. He’d got great big maps on the wall, a great picture of Hamburg as it was and Hamburg ‒, no, was it? As it had been built, Hamburg as it had been rebuilt and Hamburg as it was when we knocked it down. I was stood at the back of the blooming crowd of officers were listening to this story. I thought, ‘By Christ, I helped knock it down’ [Laugh]. CB: Amazing. TP: Oh dear, oh dear. Beautiful thing was that, I had a fortnight’s leave every ‒, each year, so Cecilia came out and the first time I hired a caravan because I had a car with a towing bar, ‘cause I was doing a lot of gliding stuff and I picked her up at Ostend and we got in the caravan and we towed all the way down into Austria, stopping here and there. We parked in Salzburg. Oh, what a lovely city is Salzburg. We had a wonderful fortnight’s holiday. The following year, on the fortnight, we just got in the car and drove where the car would take us and that too was wonderful. We went down to Bavaria and Switzerland and Austria and it was really wonderful. I learnt a lot. I thoroughly enjoyed it. We both did of course. Then what happened after that? I got a home posting, OC Personnel at RAF Swinderby in Lincolnshire, as the OC Personnel, and then, by then time was getting on and I got a letter from the Air Ministry saying there was no more promotion unless I was promoted to wing commander, and I thought I can’t go on like this, Cecilia and I had been separated too much and too long, ‘I think I’ll take my retirement’, and at that time, I don’t make a lot of this because ‒, oh yes, I was in my office one morning and the telephone rang. He said, ‘This is the bank manager. Have you got any personnel coming out of the service who would like a job in a bank? I’m setting up a new bank in Lincoln’. I said, ‘I’ll have a look at my records Sir, and see if I’ve got anybody’. Next day I thought of this and I’d just got this letter from the Ministry saying there was no more promotion unless ‒. I rang him back the next day and said, ‘I’m interested but’, I said, ’You’ll have to wait six months for me’. He said, ‘I’m prepared to do that.’ And so, to much my dismay and regret, I had to leave the service and join the bank in Lincoln. Mind you it was very helpful in the following years ‘cause I got two pensions, RAF pension, bank pension, old age pension. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it hadn’t been for that. I can afford to pay for this now. CB: That’s really good, isn’t it? Look, this is getting cold so TP: I’ll just have a drink of tea. CB: I’ll just stop for a minute. TP: I hadn’t realised we’d run into tea-time. I was a founder member of the RAF Gliding and Soaring Association and at one stage, when I was at the Ministry of Defence, I was the Treasurer. CB: That was based at Bicester, wasn’t it? TP: The first aero-tow. You’re talking about aero-towing. CB: I used to do that, yep. TP: I was running the ‒, I’d been on a couple of er ‒, gliding courses with ‒, at the gliding school and I was running the Cosford Gliding Club, and we had a two-seater Sedbergh and as we were close, within thirty miles of the Long Mynd in Shropshire, we thought we’d get more flying on the ridge so we trailed the two-seater Sedbergh up to the Mynd and parked it there but I couldn’t get the airmen there. Transport, nobody had any transport. It was awfully difficult to get them to the Mynd, so it wasn’t viable, so as we pressed on at Cosford. I suddenly realised it was wind wasted so I thought we must bring it back to Cosford from the Mynd, which is about thirty miles away, so I thought, ‘How do I do that? How do I get it back?’ ‘Ah’, I said, ’The only way to get it back is by aero-tow’. Well, I’d never done an aero-tow. I’d read up the books, you know, and I got in touch with a tug pilot at Harden in Cheshire and I asked Tony about it and he said, ‘Yes’, he says, ‘on a suitable day’, he says, ‘I’ll take you there and we’ll bring it back’. We flew up to the Long Mynd which wasn’t an airfield as such. CB: No. TP: There was a ground engineer there on permanent duty with him and there was one other. Anyway, we managed to get the Sedbergh out of the hangar, rigged it, put a bag of sand in the second pilot’s seat, positioned ourself back from the hedge, and all was ready. Off we went. First aero-tow. It was rough. It was rough but anyway soon settled down and soon find your position, and then a very pleasant aero-tow for about thirty miles back to Cosford. That’s the first aero-tow I’d ever done. CB: Amazing. TP: Nobody taught me. CB: No. TP: And then we put it to good use at Cosford. And then I was moved from Bridgnorth to Padgate which was quite a way away from Cosford. I couldn’t get there and so I joined the Derbyshire and Lancashire Gliding Club at Camp Hill. Now that was wonderful. Wave flights up to six, seven thousand feet, smooth air, hands off the controls almost. Lovely. But then of course, you didn’t prolong the flight because you only took an hour because there were a lot of people wanting to have a turn. It was lovely civilian gliding club. At one stage, when was it? When I was at Bomber Command, I crewed for two RAF pilots who were flying an Olympia in this championship, the 1953 Championships, and oh what was his name? Anyway, he finished up as a wing commander at Cranwell. We picked him up once. He landed from Camp Hill at Skegness, as far as you could go before being over the sea, and when we found him, when we, as a crew, we had an RAF MT driver in an RAF vehicle, and when we found him, the Olympia was de-rigged and standing up by the side of a pub. The pilot was inside with the local policeman drinking. Oh, he trailed all the way back. Next time it was my turn. Er ‒, was it my turn? I can’t remember which way round it was now. I know I flew there two years running. In the meantime, I joined the Lancashire, Lancashire and Sheffield. Sheffield, what County was there? CB: Derby. TP: Anyway ‒. CB: Oh Sheffield, Yorkshire. TP: Yeah, anyway, I joined the civilian’s club and I managed to do my thirty miles from Camp Hill to Lindholme in an Olympia. But one of my best flights was later on, from the RAF Centre at Bicester, um, I did a hundred mile Gull flight from Bicester to Swanton Morley. CB: I know it, yeah. TP: In one of the more super jobs. Coming back on the Sunday morning, this was the Sunday, coming back on the Sunday morning, through Cambridge a wheel came off the trailer. Fortunately, there was a gliding club at Waterbeach and so we got in touch with them and they lent us a trailer, and in the streets of Cambridge we unloaded it from one to the other, and I got in touch with Marshall’s Airfield, the engineering works, if they would collect the trailer and repair it, and it was late Sunday afternoon when I arrived back at Bicester. It was quite a weekend that was. I’m talking too much. CB: It’s alright. That’s really good. I’m going to stop you because your supper’s getting cold. Thank you very much Thomas. That’s been really useful. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Thomas James Page Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Chris Brockbank Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-07-02 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context APageTJ160702 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 01:07:38 audio recording Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Lincolnshire England--Lincoln Wales--Vale of Glamorgan Germany Germany--Ruhr (Region) Germany--Hamburg Germany--Essen Germany--Düsseldorf Germany--Nuremberg Germany--Wassenberg Alps Italy Italy--La Spezia Zimbabwe Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1940-04 1942 1943 1944 Description An account of the resource Thomas Page grew up in a farming family before joining the Royal Air Force in 1940, training as a flight mechanic. He was, initially, posted to 257 Squadron (Hurricanes) but soon went to Gloucester to train as a fitter, subsequently being posted to 71 Maintenance Unit at Slough. Here he recovered crashed RAF and German aircraft. In response to a request for flight engineers, he went to RAF St Athan for training and then to a Heavy Conversion Unit to meet his crew. Flying in Manchesters, he recalls the engine problems that the type suffered from. Thomas was then posted to 49 Squadron and began his tour with an operation to La Spezia. He describes his various experiences during the tour including bad weather over the Alps; running off the runway at RAF Fiskerton; and crew injury. He describes operations to Essen, Dusseldorf, Nuremberg and to Hamburg for the first use of Window and details his duties during these operations. Having completed his tour, Thomas was commissioned and posted back to RAF St Athan to train flight engineers. After the war he flew in Lincolns and was part of a goodwill tour of Rhodesia. He had trained in intelligence and was posted to No. 3 Group Headquarters and then Bomber Command Headquarters, before retraining as an accountant and personnel officer. Then he undertook postings to RAF Bridgnorth, Karachi, and RAF Wildenrath. Thomas describes touring Europe with his wife before his final posting, to RAF Swinderby as officer commanding personnel. He left the RAF to work in a bank in Lincoln. During his service Thomas took up gliding, a hobby he continued in civilian life. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Maureen Clarke Vivienne Tincombe 44 Squadron 49 Squadron aircrew bombing bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943) fitter airframe flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Heavy Conversion Unit Hurricane intelligence officer Lancaster Lincoln Manchester military service conditions mine laying RAF Dunholme Lodge RAF Fiskerton RAF St Athan sport training Window https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/755/10753/ACourtPR171211.1.mp3 f5adb26711d51c0b4874459a61b47524 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Court, Percival Robert P R Court Description An account of the resource An oral history interview with Robert Court (b. 1924, 1728924 Royal Air Force). He served as a rigger and airframe fitter. The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-12-11 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Court, PR Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is the, Monday the 11th of December 2017 and I am in Reading with Bob Court to talk about his life and times and starting with what are your earliest recollections of life, Bob? PC: I don’t know. Being [pause] at a place called Organford where there were floods. My mother was sat with her feet in the water and nursing me. Then the old chap was going off to work and he left his Hunter watch on the bed head so I could hear it ticking. That’s my earliest memory. CB: What did your father do? PC: He was a post office engineer. Linesman. CB: Whereabouts? PC: Dorset. CB: And what did that involve? PC: Well, in those days the, during the winter months the snow would bring the lines down and they had to go and put them back up. So it meant travelling about all over the place. CB: Right. And where did you go to school? PC: Poole. National school. National Boy School, Poole. CB: Any exciting times there? PC: Oh yeah. I thought they were all exciting [laughs] Yeah. It was ok. I managed to keep to the top of the heap all the time so life was pretty, pretty easy. CB: Did you develop a main interest? PC: Woodwork, I suppose. I don’t know. My mother wouldn’t let me go to the Grammar School. They wanted me to go and take the exam. But my mother wouldn’t let me go. CB: Why was that? PC: Probably she couldn’t afford it. But in, in retrospect I say she probably saved my life. CB: Because? PC: If you’d have gone to the Grammar School you’d have been aircrew. CB: Right. PC: Not many of them survived. CB: Right. Right. And what age did you leave school? PC: Fourteen. CB: Then what? PC: Then what? Well, I worked for this furniture company. And then when I was old enough volunteered for the Air Force. CB: Yeah. But first of all what did you do? PC: What do you mean what did I do? CB: Well, immediately after you left school what did you do? Before you went to the furniture company. PC: I worked for a friend of a member of the family who had a radio business. And I suppose, I don’t know when I turned up, when they packed up. And I went to the Labour Exchange because I had a suit on I suppose they thought here’s a chap for the shop, for this furniture store. CB: So what did you do in the furniture business? PC: Well, repairing, French polishing. All sorts of things really. Selling it. Delivering it. CB: You said you were interested in carpentry at school. So did that put you in good stead for what you were doing for the furniture company? PC: I suppose it did in a way. Yes. I suppose it did. CB: So were you an apprentice there or — PC: Yeah. CB: Right. And how long were apprenticeships in those days? PC: This one was three years I think it was. Yeah. Three years, I think. Three years, I think. Three or four years. CB: So, you were born in 1924. PC: Yeah. CB: And that meant that when the war started what age were you? PC: Fifteen. CB: And what reaction did you feel with the start of the war? PC: Pretty good [laughs] I didn’t think we were going to lose. Never entered my head that we might lose. I didn’t realise how close it was but at the time no you wouldn’t. Never thought of it. CB: So, this is when you’re working for the furniture company. PC: Yeah. CB: What did you do that was related to the war at that stage because you were too young to sign up. PC: I did a bit of firewatching. We had to do that every night. Well, not one night a week at least. Then they started introducing payment so I did two nights. Sometimes three. It wasn’t very onerous. CB: What did you have to do? PC: Well, just keep a watch out for incendiary bombs because they were using a lot of those at the time. And put out any fires they might cause. Fortunately, in my area they didn’t cause any. So I was alright. Not bad at all. CB: So what did they, what title did you have for that task? Fire watching. Was that ARP or what was it? PC: No. It wasn’t ARP. Just fire watchers or something. CB: Right. PC: I don’t know. Who was it introduced it? [pause] I think it was Morrison, wasn’t it? Morrison. CB: Herbert Morrison [pause] But what did you actually have to do in fire watching? PC: Well, keep, keep an, keep your eyes open for any incendiaries that might land near you. CB: I was thinking did you have a base to work from or did you walk the streets or what did you do? PC: No. We had a room over a shop that we used to sleep in. And any air raids we’d go out and wander around the streets. CB: Right. And you had a supervisor or who controlled what you were doing? PC: Yeah. We had a chap who owned one of the shops. Well, he owned a chemist shop and he was the chap in charge. Yeah. CB: So what did you find in there? PC: Hmmn? CB: You’re looking in your book. What have you got in there? PC: Oh, I’m just trying to remember what was going on. The Dunkirk business. CB: Well, we can come back. Let’s talk about Dunkirk then. So you remember Dunkirk in 1940. PC: Yeah. CB: What do you remember particularly about that? PC: Well, when was it? CB: Because you’re in Weymouth. PC: Germany attacked Poland. No. I was in Poole then. CB: Oh, in Poole were you? PC: The Phoney War. Holland. The occupation of Denmark and Norway. The evacuation of Dunkirk. I remember watching soldiers coming in to Poole Quay on any craft that could make the journey. CB: Right. When they landed then what happened to them? PC: Tea, cigarettes, beer and food being given to the bemused troops. Pitiful to see them. Did not appreciate — CB: What sort of state were they in? PC: Not very happy. Glad to be out of where they were though. CB: Were they upright, bedraggled or what were they? PC: Well, they were a bit bedraggled but apart from that they were ok. Glad to be out of there. That was all. CB: Yes. PC: Yeah. CB: So after that you continued with your fire watching. PC: Yes. CB: Did you join the ATC or — PC: Yeah. Yeah. I joined the Air Training Corps. CB: Right. And when was that? That was when you were what age? Was it at the time of fire watching? PC: Yeah. Obviously [pause] when were the ATC formed? When was that? [pause] PC: Yeah. Herbert Morrison was the one who said all persons between sixteen and sixty register for fire watching duties. CB: Right. PC: So, I, they used to pay four and sixpence. Twenty two and a half pence per night. I didn’t earn much so I volunteered to do two and sometimes three nights a week. CB: Yeah. PC: Which helped my salary immensely. CB: Can you remember what you earned when you were working for the furniture company? PC: Yeah. Twelve [pause] twelve and sixpence. CB: Did you? PC: Or sixty two and a half pence. CB: Yeah. PC: Per week. The Air Training Corps was in 1941. And I joined in March 1941. CB: The ATC. PC: Yeah. CB: Yeah. So, now you’re coming up to be old enough to join the forces. What made you join the RAF rather than the Army or the Navy? PC: As I said, I couldn’t swim. And I didn’t like the brown jobs. They got too close. So, I thought the Air Force might be a bit safer. CB: Right. PC: Which it proved to be. CB: So, what, what was the process then of joining up? PC: I went to [pause] where did I go? I went up to Southampton I think. Volunteered. CB: Did you go to Cardington as a start? PC: Yeah. CB: What happened at Cardington? PC: I went to [pause] joined [pause — pages turning] Yeah. Cardington. Somewhere. I volunteered. It was possible to volunteer at seventeen and a half. CB: Yeah. PC: I did that in February ‘42. Volunteered for service as a flight mechanic. CB: Right. PC: Report to the centre of Southampton for a medical and attestation. Bear true allegiance to His Majesty King George the Sixth, his heirs and successors blah blah blah. Got the King’s Shilling in the form of a postal order. CB: Oh, you did. Right. PC: I was hoping to be given a shilling but they didn’t. They give me a bloody postal order. I should have saved it but I didn’t. So, I went to, and I was with the ATC at their Fleet Air Arm place at Sandbanks and I had to report to Cardington. CB: Right. PC: Yeah. Never been outside the county ‘til then. CB: So, what did you do at Cardington? PC: Got kitted out. Did some tests. We had to fill out, yeah fill out all these books. Tests. I was about to decide what we would do. Test booklets. Fill in name and number. Answer all the questions you could. Such things as mathematics, simple science, English diagrams to determine which way cogs might revolve around levers and pulleys operated. Seemed to go on for hours and days by the end of it. Afterwards when discussing with others how they thought they had fared I began to realise that not all of us were as well equipped as others. In fact, the lad I travelled with from Poole had found the exercise very daunting. Then we were interviewed by, about technical matters school, blah blah blah. Issued with uniforms and equipment. Everything. Dog tags and whatever. When all this was going on the, an airman came and called out your name. Gather up your kit and follow him. My friend from Poole was amongst us. ‘Where are you going?’ I asked. ‘I’ve been selected for the RAF regiment.’ Soon our numbers were quite depleted. We slept soundly that night. CB: So, are you saying not everybody was accepted in to the RAF? PC: They were accepted into the RAF but not in what they wanted to do. CB: Right. PC: Like this chap that came with me was put in the RAF regiment. CB: Yes. So, what other jobs would they have put them into? PC: Well, there was cooks. CB: Yeah. PC: All sorts of things I think. Different. Different. I’m trying to think really. CB: But you’d been identified as somebody to work, you said earlier as a rigger. PC: Yeah. CB: Is that because you asked for that or they suggested that’s what you should do? PC: Well, no. What happens, you were sort of all lined up and said, I would say about sixty or so of us and those who wished to be air frame mechanics to cross to the other side of the room. Not a soul moved. Didn’t know what he was bloody talking about. CB: No. PC: ‘Right,’ he said, said to the group, he said, ‘All those on the left engines. Those on the right airframe.’ That’s how I became a flight mechanic air frame. CB: Right. PC: That’s it. CB: Was this chap a corporal or — PC: It was better actually than the engines. I thought so anyway. And we went from Cardington to Skegness for square bashing. CB: What else did you do at Skegness? PC: Just the initial training. Marching up and down. CB: Yeah. PC: Cracking the paving stones. CB: Yeah. PC: Then we were — CB: Was there any classroom work? It wasn’t square bashing all the time was it? PC: Square. Well, most of the times. Yeah. CB: And from there? PC: Didn’t have any rifles so we had wooden replica rifles. Bayonet practice with pikes. Scaffold tubing with the bayonets welded on. Bayonet practice we charged at straw filled sacks on wooden frames and around again. We were encouraged to scream and shout the meanest of obscenities as we charged forward. Urged on by the instructors. In, out, Oh God, out the ground, left, right, right, oh dear. Oh dear. Unarmed combat was taught. Be invited to charge the instructor with a rifle and bayonet, and we’d be tipped ass over head in no uncertain manner. How we would fare in real combat was never really put to the test. The assault courses, climb wire, barbed wire, rope netting. Crossing streams and, oh dear. Did guard duty. We’d sit on the seafront with a machine gun on the beach. Wend our way through the mines laid on the beach, ropes and tape. The odd mine was clearly visible in the sand so one was apprehensive when going backwards and forwards. The Butlins Holiday Camp was used by the Navy as a training establishment. Given the name HMS Arthur. The camp was full of Naval though we never seen any in the town. They must have kept them away. Perhaps the authorities in their infinite wisdom kept us apart. Many lectures on various aspects of service life. We had medical officer of the dangers of venereal diseases. This was my first introduction to sex education. For me it was a rude awakening. The MO marched on the stage in the lecture room and held up an unrolled French letter which he announced was a condom. In my ignorance I only knew it as the more familiar name. They were sold sureptisously in barber’s shops where male customers would be discreetly asked if they needed such things for the weekend. He ran to great length about syphilis, gonorrhoea, associated with women of a dubious character. If we did succumb to these wiles we’d be marching with a standing penis and no conscience. Returned to a room behind the guard room where prophylactic treatment was available. This lecture was reinforced by an American film of soldiers frequenting a brothel and the resulting liaison in full colour. Various venereal diseases in all its ghastly forms. Pretty shocking to my young senses. What kept most men on the straight and narrow was the exception that women were to be respected. The ultimate way was that the man would marry a virgin and young women accordingly kept themselves chaste. At home sex was never discussed. It was taboo. But nevertheless there were plenty of innuendoes bandied about between Babe, Benny and some of the lodgers. I was a little naive to appreciate what was going on. Films and books were played down as part of any stories so as not to offend the sensors. Songs adhered to a strict code of practice. Some comedians like Max Miller sailed pretty close to the wind. A popular song of the day was, “Doing What Comes Naturally.” And that was how people were introduced to sex. To suppress our sexual drive a cup of tea or cocoa we drank was laced with copious amounts of Bromide. Also we were kept so busy with square bashing and PT at the end of the day we were too exhausted for such dalliances. That coupled with our meagre pay did not leave us much for entertaining the opposite sex. As the course progressed so did our fitness. Jack London was training for his fight would delight in picking out likely lads to spar with him in the boxing ring. Fortunately, for me being I was slight build I was not selected for this ordeal. We could not avoid the forced marches that were his pet items. Be paraded in marching order with small pack. Gas mask we had to march at a fast pace for about ten miles or so. Periodically we’d be halted for a short rest but Jack would prance about shadow boxing while we looked on in awe. And off we’d go again at almost a gallop. After six weeks or so of this intensive square bashing we were deemed to be sufficiently proficient in parade ground techniques and arms drill, armed and unarmed bayonet, to be referred to the next place of our training. Come of some use in the overall strategy of the Air Force. And then off we went. Went to — CB: Where did you go next? PC: Went to a place called Brindley Heath near Birmingham. Just outside Birmingham. And we marched up to the camp known as Kit Bag Hill surrounded by an eight to ten foot high wire chain link. This was number school, number 6 School of Technical Training. It would be our home for the next five or six months. So that’s where I went. CB: So, at the Technical School this was specifically was it for the trade you were put into? PC: Yeah. Yeah. Number 6 School of Technical Training. CB: Yeah. PC: Very desolate. Looked rather gloomy after Skegness. I was accommodated in one of many of the wooden huts. In the centre was a coal burning stove. Iron beds that telescoped to give a spacious look to the room. On each bed was three square shaped mattresses called biscuits. Pillow. Three blankets all arranged in a precise manner which we would get accustomed to making before going on parade in the mornings. A corporal was in charge of the hut and the weekly inspections of the hut ensured was spotless before he allowed us to go to breakfast. Woe betide anyone who entered the hut after he’d pronounced it satisfactory. Not only were the trainees RAF personnel but there were the Fleet Air Arm, Polish and WAAFs which added a degree of rivalry to us all. Each morning we’d parade outside the hut at 7.30 am. Headed by the station band we would march to the workshop to the strains of, “Sussex by the Sea.” We would mutter as we marched along in the darkness, “Good old Sussex by the sea. You can tell them all we know sod all of Sussex by the sea.” How’s that? [laughs] CB: We’ll pause there for a mo. [recording paused] CB: So, the RAF called this site you’re talking about RAF Hednesford. PC: Yeah. CB: What did you actually do there? PC: That was the — CB: Brindley Heath. PC: Yeah. First two weeks dealt with basic engineering practice. I did on occasion metal, metals used in aircraft production. Types of drills, screws, tools, heat treatment, corrosion. Main practical work involved filing a piece of mild steel about three or four inches square, a quarter of an inch thick. Dead flat and square. Both faces and all surfaces. At the end marks were attained in the practical theory and oral examination we continued with the course. Otherwise we were re-mustered into probably the RAF regiment. Perish the thought. Anyone with ninety percent could go on to the fitter’s course. Those with marks forty or less would be re-mustered. Only one of our entry was. Which was a hundred and fifty eight passed with high enough marks and one failed. And he had the, as he had had office experience in Civvy Street he was posted to the admin section as a Clerk GD. We were rather derisory towards him but he had the last laugh because by the time we had completed the course he had been promoted to corporal. So he did well. None of us were concerned about going on the fitter’s course which meant another ten weeks of training and many were anxious to join a squadron and actually service aircraft. Once the basic training was over we got down to the serious business of the flight mechanic’s course. Sixteen weeks of instruction, preliminary rigging, knots, lacing of wire and rope. Fabrication, application, doping and painting, carpentry, hydraulics, pneumatic, wheels and tyre maintenance, marshalling of aircraft. Procedures for the daily inspection. At first I’d been disappointed in not being successful in being selected as an engine mechanic but once on the course I found it so varied and covered such a variety of activities I was glad. Later in life it stood me in good stead. Once we were, similar routine with our spare time spent in the NAAFI. Occasional visits to the camp cinema. One film I recall was the story of that guy who sold his soul to the devil. Was it a warning? Also got initiated in playing cards. Not Whist, Rummy and Cribbage that I was reasonable in but Brag, Pontoon and Solo. We did not have a lot of money to indulge in these games and after being relieved of my meagre pay by the card sharks among us I became more cautious about getting too involved. The only game officially sanctioned by the powers that be was Tombola or Housey Housey. Less stressful and you were unlikely to lose too much of your money. Weekends we’d venture in to town with Walsall being one of the favourite places. Many thought I came from Canada. Due to my West Country accent no doubt. So I would say I came from London, Ontario. I was intrigued by the accents of these Black Country people as they were known here. Hednesford itself was a mining village. We’d often visit the snooker hall and local pub. The younger miners a little hostile to us as many would have liked to have joined the Services from what was a Reserved Occupation from which there was no escape. Hence their frustrations. Shall I go on? CB: Yeah. PC: My best friend, Bob Matthews, a Londoner and I was a bit in awe of him because he was very streetwise while I was just a country boy who knew nothing of the big wide world. As I lived in Poole it was much too far for me to go home on a forty eight hour pass and I stayed with him with his parents in London. Fabulous. They lived in Woolwich and his father was security officer at the Royal Arsenal. They had a small cottage inside the Arsenal as part of the job. You would say that this was the safest place in London. Bob had a regular girlfriend. Sylvia, I believe. And he introduced me to her sister Vera. This made a convenient foursome for us. Also, Vera was my first really serious girl. We used to write copious letters to each other even when I was posted overseas. However, when I was abroad for a long separation of course there was a cool off a bit and she met up with another lad. When I came home in 1947 we did try to get together but I was very unsettled and did not know what I wanted to do so we drifted apart. Compared with Poole, Woolwich and London in general was a wonderland to me [pause] Pubs such as Dirty Dick’s were so different from those in Poole. We would meet Bob’s mother in one and she would proudly show off her pride and joy to her friends. Christmas I spent at the camp not wishing to go home as I wanted to enjoy service life to the full. I withdrew my name from the list of those wishing to go home to allow the married ones a better chance of selection. Periodically we used to do guard duty. This involved being on duty from 6pm until 8am the next day. One did stints of two hours on and four hours off and we usually slept in the guard room cells. Some did duty on the main gate and others patrolled the perimeter fence. The shifts 12 to 2am and 2 to 4am were in my opinion the worst. I remember on one occasion falling asleep in the sentry box and nearly falling over as I slept. God knows what would have happened if the orderly officer had come around. Tell that the circulated camp was that Naval Fleet Air Arm types who assisted their mates to enter the camp after the magic hour of 23.59 by fixing their bayonets to the rifles. Pushing them through the chain link fence to form a sort of ladder. Coming up this way one of the bayonets snapped off. What was the outcome I never did know or whether it was true. Completion of the course in February ’43 we attended a passing our parade, informed of our postings, given a travel warrant and sent home on a weeks’ well-earned leave. We had previously been asked where we’d like to be posted and I opted for Ibsley near Ringwood. A Spitfire fighter station. Whether they did this deliberately to post you as far from the location desired I don’t know but I was posted to 1651 Heavy Conversion Unit, Waterbeach in Cambridgeshire. CB: Right. We’ll stop this for a mo. [recording paused] CB: You mentioned the passing out parade from the end of your training. So how did that go? PC: Well, the square bashing do you mean? After doing the foot drill. CB: Yeah. PC: Yeah. What did that involve? CB: Yeah. When you’d finished your technical training you had your passing out parade. PC: Technical training. CB: Yeah. Before you were posted elsewhere. So what, what was the passing out parade? PC: I can’t remember really. I think we just had to march past the CO and eyes right and off you go. CB: Yes. And did they give you something in terms of certificate. Or — PC: No. No. CB: Families invited or anything like that? PC: No. No. No. No. CB: Right. And did you get a bean feast afterwards? PC: A bean feast? CB: A pub. Food. PC: No. No. You were sent home on leave. CB: Right. That was the reward [laughs] PC: Yeah. Yeah. CB: Yeah. PC: Yeah. CB: Ok. [recording paused] CB: So when you joined the RAF you were an AC2. How did the promotion go from there? PC: Well, the next stage was AC1. And then LAC. Leading Aircraftmen. I think nowadays they follow the Army and they call them corporals. CB: Well, I think they’ve still got LAC and SAC. PC: Yeah. Have they? CB: Senior Aircraftsman. So at what stage were you, did you become a Leading Aircraftsman? At the end of your technical training was it? PC: After I’d been on the Heavy Conversion Unit for a bit. CB: When you got on with it. Right. Ok. So you were posted to the Heavy Conversion Unit. That was at Waterbeach. So, what was your role there? PC: Just — CB: Because you are now technically what’s your description of your trade at that stage? PC: I’m a flight mechanic. CB: Right. PC: Flight mechanic air frame. Yeah. Arrived at the camp at about [pause] it was quite dark. Reported to the guard room. Soon allocated a billet. Guided to the dining for a much needed meal. Quite bewildered. At the same time thrilled to hear the roar of aircraft engines as the planes were taking off from the airfield. CB: What were the aircraft? PC: Stirlings. CB: Right. PC: The airfield was about four miles from Cambridge. Only built during the general rearmament programme of the late 1930s. Officially opened in 1941. Earmarked to be a heavy bomber station. When I arrived it was equipped with the Short Stirling four engine bomber. I was a little disappointed to find that the unit was not on operational one but involved with the final training of aircrews before going on to an operational squadron. Stirlings were given this role because the Lancaster and Halifax heavy bombers coming on stream were far superior in Bomber Command in bomb carrying capacity and ability to fly at high altitudes. Stirlings had been designed in 1936 but its projected wing span of a hundred and twelve feet had to be reduced to less than a hundred to be accommodated in the hangars. This would seriously affect its ability to fly any higher than about eighteen thousand feet and was therefore more vulnerable to anti-aircraft and fighter attack. Its robust construction based on the Sunderland ensured that it would withstand serious battle damage. It was used successfully as the main bomber along with the Wellington. But as night fighter operations improved these losses were unsustainable. Stirlings last big operational roles was when it was used as a paratroop carrier. And the towing of gliders during D-Day and at Arnhem. It was at Arnhem that my brother Jim was captured and spent the rest of the war in a prisoner of war camp. My first day on the flights when I was introduced to these huge monsters towering above me left me a little awestruck by its sheer size. This was certainly a big aeroplane standing about twenty feet high. Twenty eight feet high on its huge ungainly undercarriage. My job as a flight mechanic was to carry out daily inspections. Checking the tyres, tyre creep, leaks from the oleo struts, free working of the ailerons, rudders and elevators and inspect for damage generally. Checking the cockpit. The operational controls. The most frightening task for me was the cleaning of the cockpit windscreen and windows. This necessitated climbing out of an escape hatch midway along the fuselage, walking along to the cockpit and then lying down to clean the Perspex windows. At first I would crawl on my hands and knees up the fuselage much to the amusement of the old hands. After a few days I became as blasé about it as they were and would quickly clamber along the fuselage ignoring the height above the ground. Refuelling held its dangers too. The training of pilot and co-pilot to successfully take off and land at night and to get the rest of the crew to operate as an efficient unit. Night flying was the norm for this work and on its completion usually about two or three in the morning one of the jobs was to refuel the aircraft so that it was ready for immediate take off. The Stirling had fourteen tanks in the wings holding over two thousand two hundred gallons of fuel. On a cold winter’s night this was a gruelling task. To hold open the nozzle to allow the petrol to flow in to the tanks hands and fingers soon became numb with cold. Accentuated by the high octane fuel. I’d not been there long when my turn for night flying duties. This meant being, among other things being on standby on the flight hut to answer requests from the pilot for a supply of compressed air. In night flying operation the aircraft would be doing circuits and bumps continued throughout the night. The small engine driven pumps which fitted to the aircraft could not maintain enough compressed air in the [floor cylinder] to cope with the continual application of the aircraft air brakes. After a number of landings and take off a cylinder would need replenishing. My job was to meet the aircraft on the perimeter, top up as necessary. Rather than wait in the cold flight for a call out many of us would join the aircrews with a fully charged air cylinder and enjoy the thrills of night flying. Sans parachute I might add. When the top up cylinder was empty we would leave the aircraft. Turn to the flight and have to wait for the next call. At the end of the night flying the next task would be to meet the aircraft on the perimeter. Guide it to its dispersal point on the flight. On my first occasion the duty corporal took pity on me and told me he would delay my introduction to this task as long as possible. Whether he doubted my competence I know not. There was suddenly a flurry of activity and with the phone ringing continuously, airmen gathering up torches and disappearing into the night I found I was the only one apart from the corporal left in the hut. The phone rang and he reluctantly handed me two small torches and told me to guide G-George to its dispersal point with some brief warnings of the possible dangers. Out I ventured in the total darkness to meet this huge monster towering above me on the perimeter track. Along with my two torches waving them in the prescribed manner I gradually brought the aircraft with its roaring engines and red hot exhaust to its dispersal point. Now came the tricky bit where it was necessary to turn the aircraft in a complete circle on the frying pan to be ready for refuelling. One had to be careful to keep in full view of the pilot. Not to stumble or trip otherwise one might be run over by the tail wheels as the aircraft turned around in the tight space. With heart thumping and nerves frayed I managed this without a mishap. I’ve often wondered if the pilot ever thought how vulnerable the poor ground crews were when carrying out this type, this operation. Back in the flight hut I don’t know to this day who was more relieved. Me or the corporal. Periodically, as well as doing a guard duty on the main gate on the perimeter of the station we also had to do a kite guard. Kite being slang for an aeroplane. For this duty one would have a couple of blankets, go to a designated aircraft and spend a night guarding the aircraft. I cannot recall whether we were armed or not or how effective the guard was is debatable. Whenever I did this duty I would spend the time exploring the aircraft, playing the various roles of bomber crews. I imagined I would assume the duty of the pilot, co-pilot, flying over Germany and the North Sea to the target. When tiring of this I would then take on the role of the bomb aimer. Lie down in his position in the front at the front and guide the plane and drop the bombs. Other roles would be front, rear and mid-upper gunners. Sitting in their turrets and shooting down enemy fighters. Although I fantasised playing these roles I never felt I would be suitable as an aircraft member. Aircrew member. Partly as I did not consider my education, background good enough at the time. Aircrews were recruited from the universities and Grammar Schools and my basic elementary schooling was not good enough. As war progressed and a shortage of suitable candidates became apparent particularly for the flight engineers. I would probably have been acceptable. By this time I’d retrained as a fitter and was quite happy in that role. For sleeping there was a foldaway stretcher located in the fuselage but sleep was an uncomfortable experience, climbs in the aircraft on a cold winter’s night. And equally so on a hot summer’s night. At 6am in the morning loud banging on this aircraft would awaken one and you would stagger off to the dining hall for a cup of tea and an early breakfast. But the ordinary perk was the cooks were generally sympathetic and generous at that hour. I had not been at Waterbeach long when it came apparent getting around a camp site, a bicycle was required so I wrote home and asked my mother to send my bicycle to me. She did. Registered. And I was mobile. A cycle was as essential in those days as a car is today. Visits to Cambridge and the local villages was easily accomplished with the minimum of effort. This being the fen country it was very flat. Very few hills to negotiate. This part of the country was ideal for the location of bomber stations so that although heavy laden to take off safely. Cambridge was a beautiful city with its many fine buildings, colleges and the River Cam running through it and I spent much of my free time exploring its many features. Cambridge being a university with its teaming population of undergraduates I found it difficult in coming to terms with. I was brought up to the idea that one had to get out to work and earn a living as soon as possible. My mother did not encourage one in the value of education. In fact, by her intransigence she discouraged me from taking the entrance to the local Grammar School. At the time, 1943 Cambridge was full of American servicemen and I’m afraid us poor erks could not compete either financially for the favours of the local girls. We had to be content with the NAAFI, Toc H, Sally Ann, for entertainment. Plus the cinemas. I remember there was some trouble when some time expired servicemen returned from their tour of duty in North Africa and many confrontations occurred between the two factions. I found it more expedient to stick to the village and Waterbeach itself than get involved in any trouble. My father died in November ’43. Flight Sergeant Mills took me under his wing and helped me through the trauma and he often took me to the British Legion club in the village where he was a much respected and popular friend. As spring arrived the hours of daylight increased. The trainee aircrews were required to wear goggles with dark lenses in order that flying hours were maintained. The runways were illuminated with sodium lights to complete the illusion of night flying. This almost around the clock flying put quite a strain on the servicing ground crews. But with the increasing aircraft production losses of aircrews by enemy action it was necessary to maintain a flow. One day while working on the flights [unclear] came and said anyone would like to retrain as a fitter 2. This was an upgraded group 1 in trade structure in the RAF was highly regarded as it opened up the route to promotion. I asked when mine would be likely to be selected, know if to be selected and how that might be. He told me it would be several months before it would come about. Thinking to myself it would get me off the flights for the winter months I put my name forward. Rather than months, a couple of weeks later given a weeks’ leave and told to report to Number 1 School Of Technical Training at Halton to begin a fitter’s conversion course [pause] on the 2nd of July 1943. Number 1 School of Technical Training, RAF Station Halton. Halton was the home of the boy entrants in the RAF and affectionately known as Trenchard’s Brats. The terms of service was to fulfil twelve years of service from the age of eighteen when the option to sign on for a period if they so desired. The apprenticeship was four to five years duration and they seemed to be the cream of the tradesmen and indeed they were. The war was a Godsend to that force with the rapid expansion of the Air Force. Many were promoted to high ranking position both as officers and senior NCOs. So they did well. Volunteers and conscripts like myself after completing a flight mechanic’s course the period on the squadron required to do a conversion course of fourteen weeks to be brought up to the required standard. I think I was the youngest and certainly the lowest in rank at AC2, Aircraftman Second Class. Many were LACs, Leading Aircraftsmen with several years service to their credit. RAF Halton near Wendover in Buckinghamshire was situated uphill from the town. Every day we would form up on the square, march to the training workshops. The Brats would lead the parade with the mascot of a goat, a goat and the station band at the head. The Brats were distinguished by wearing cheese cutters. Peak cap, with a chequered brim on the edge whilst we wore the Glengarry type of head gear. One of our entry also wore a cheese cutter as he had had the devil’s own job to convince the RAF police that he was not a Brat. One night on the town he had been an aircrew member and lost all his hair as result of some trauma and had permission to wear the cap to avoid embarrassment. The course, like the flight mechanic’s was fairly intensive dealing with basic engineering, metal repairs, hydraulics, minor and major inspections. A lot of instruction involved American aircraft such as the Kitty Hawk, Tomahawk and the methods used in the servicing of these aircraft. Weekends we could not obtain a pass we were expected to take part in some sporting activity. The skivers among us would often choose the cross country run over the hills and through the woods down to Tring. At some convenient spot we would hide, enjoy a crafty smoke and wait for the main pack and rejoin them for the return to the camp. Those who declined to take part in any of these activities would find themselves detailed for spud bashing which involved the peeling and removing the eyes from the potatoes. Halton was conveniently placed near London. And weekends we could spend in the city. We used to stay in the YMCA hospital, hostel at Westminster. Therefore we’d be taken by bus to a section of the underground not used by the railway. Here three tiered bunks were provided at a shilling. 5p per night. You took pot luck as to who your fellow borders might be and hoped they would not be too drunk or awkward. Other times when I stayed in camp I would explore the local towns of Aylesbury, Rickmansworth, Tring etcetera. During wartime these were pretty boring places to be for a serviceman as with beer in short supply unless you were a regular you could not hope to get served in any pub. Whilst at Halton the forty third intake of Brats came to the end of their course. We were all given a forty eight pass and told to leave the camp or stay at our peril. When we returned to the camp we’d seen why we had been told to get out. The place was in a shambles. Beds and mattresses hanging from windows, forty free entry signs daubed on walls and general mayhem everywhere. Apparently it was a tradition that on the completion of a course the Brats were given a free hand to celebrate their final days at Halton. The new entry would have the job of cleaning up the ensuing mess. Which gave them the incentive that they could do better when they completed their course. However, when we finished the privilege [pause] however when we finished the privilege was not granted to us. I completed the conversion course and now fitter 2A still with the rank of AC2. This gave me an increase in pay and I was now in group one of the trade hierarchy of the Air Force. Sent home and then posted back to 1651 at Waterbeach. Other: A rest. CB: I think we’d better stop there. Thank you very much. [recording paused] CB: We’re taking a pause now because Bob’s getting a bit tired. We’ve got to the stage where he’s returned to Stradishall and there’s a lot more to be covered in the later part of the war and afterwards in the Far East. So we’re going to reconvene. Much of what he’s been speaking about he’s got directly from his own book, “Stirlings, Sentinels and Dakotas.” So, more later. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Percival Robert Court Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Chris Brockbank Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-12-11 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context ACourtPR171211 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:57:38 audio recording Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force British Army Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Bedfordshire England--Cambridgeshire England--Buckinghamshire England--Staffordshire England--Lincolnshire England--Skegness England--London Netherlands Netherlands--Arnhem Description An account of the resource Percival Robert Court joined the Air Training Corps in March 1941, volunteering for the Royal Air Force at the earliest age of 17 and a half. Training at RAF Cardington, he became a flight mechanic. He then moved to RAF Skegness to continue formal training, including lectures on sex education and venereal disease. He states that sex was never discussed and that it was taboo and recalls rumours they were putting bromide in the water. Alongside this, he outlines several examples of social meetings within the base staff, including shared songs and daily prayers at RAF Hednesford, including the support of his wing commander when his father died in 1943 and how he helped him through the tough ordeal. He then recounts his training and experiences at RAF Hednesford, explaining the very high marks that were required to continue on his mechanic course, alongside having to take regular guard shifts and night operations. Percival was posted to Heavy Conversion Unit 1651 at RAF Waterbeach, and describes his daily required workings and several experiences with Stirlings and Lancasters. He also sets aside time to remember his brother, who was captured at Arnhem, being imprisoned for the remainder of the war. Based at RAF Halton, Percival took a course that allowed him to be promoted, with the addition of higher pay, learning information about American aircraft and spending his weekends in wartime London. When the war came to an end, he was given 48 hours to leave the base and no celebration. Percival Robert Court believes his mother saved his life by not letting him go to a grammar school, explaining that if she had, he would have died in an aircrew. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Sam Harper-Coulson Julie Williams Maureen Clarke Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1941-03 1943 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending revision of OH transcription 1651 HCU civil defence dispersal faith fitter airframe flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Heavy Conversion Unit Lancaster mechanics airframe perimeter track prisoner of war RAF Cardington RAF Halton RAF Hednesford RAF Waterbeach Stirling training https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/542/8782/AHardingV150520.1.mp3 73090ff7946ff4451cdd82def306eea2 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Harding, Victor Victor Thomas Harding V T Harding Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Harding, V Description An account of the resource An oral history interview with Leading Aircraftsman Victor Harding (1234463, Royal Air Force). He served as an airframe fitter. The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2015-05-20 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document CB: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Claire Bennett; the interviewee is Mr Victor Harding. The interview is taking place at Mr Harding’s home in Queen’s Court, Retford, on the 20th of May 2015. Well Vic, would you like to tell us the date and place of your birth? VH: Er, 05-03-22. We was in Middlesex. CB: And can you remember your early childhood? VH: Yes because I was born outta wedlock, and my mother sent me down to a home in Kent, to, to join the forces. CB: And you stayed in a – you were in a – VH: I stayed in a home – what you call a home for little [unclear], my daughter knows it ‘cause she took me there. And I was there ‘till I was nineteen ‘till I volunteered, joined the Air Force. CB: And do you remember much about it? What are your memories of it? VH: What the home? CB: Yes. VH: It was marvellous. It was run by ex-military people and they’re very very good to you. Plenty of discipline and everything, oh yeah. And when I was eighteen, that’s when I volunteered to join the Air Force then. CB: What – Other: You learnt, you learnt a trade in the home, didn’t you? VH: Pardon? Other: You learnt a trade in the home. VH: Oh yes, in the – they, after you finish your schooling age, they had different trades there. They had the printing department, a cobblers, carpentry, tailoring department, trades to learn when you’ve finished doing your schooling. CB: And you went in for – VH: Tailoring. Because the war broke out, and then I volunteered for the Air Force. CB: What made you choose the Air Force in particular? VH: I don’t know really [laughs]. I just fancied it, you know. And they asked me if I wanted to be aircrew or ground staff, so I thought ‘I haven’t got the brains to be aircrew’ so I volunteered to be in the ground staff to maintain the air craft. CB: You were mechanically minded? VH: I was flying mechanic air frame lot of the time. Everything by the engines, yeah, CB: Would you have liked to have flown? VH: I would have done if I had brains, yeah. [Both laugh] CB: But nobody said you didn’t have any brains, this is what you perceived. [VH laughing] VH: Well, I didn’t think I would be qualified for it enough sort of thing. CB: So where did you start your training? Where did you join up? VH: I went to Blackpool, and I done my – I can’t remember whether it was six months training at Kirkham for a flight mechanics course. When I passed out, I was sent to Cottesmore to Operational Training Unit. CB: And what was your training, you know, like? Did you enjoy it? VH: I did, really enjoyed it. CB: How did you get to the, the training place? Was it on the train? VH: No the Air Force took me there, you know. I went to Cottesmore – CB: Yes. VH: And I was on old Southampton’s [?]. All the old stuff sort of thing ‘till I was qualified, and then when I was paid, I was put onto Bomber Command then. CB: But, you would get your posting wouldn’t you, and then you’d have to get to your posting destination – VH: That’s it, yeah they – CB: Did you, did you go on the trains during the war? VH: Pardon? CB: Did you go the trains during the war? VH: Trains? CB: Mm. VH: No. CB: No? VH: No, never went on trains. CB: So how did you get around? Did the – VH: The Air Force took me around, you know. CB: Right. VH: To different stations, yes. CB: Right. So, so you’d, a group of you would go perhaps and they’d take you to the stations? VH: Yeah. CB: And what was your, you know, your time training? You know, what kind of accommodation did you have? VH: Well, sometimes I was in Nissan huts, sometimes I was in buildings, you know. All depends where you were stationed sort of thing. CB: Where was, where do you think your best station was? You enjoyed the most? VH: Oh, best place was at Lakenheath. It was a brick building, but when the Yanks came and saw it they took it over. So we were putting Nissan huts [laughs]. CB: Well the Nissan huts I think were pretty sparse weren’t they? VH: Yeah. CB: And cold, is that your – VH: That’s it, yeah. CB: Is that how you remember them, or? VH: Yeah. CB: Am I wrong? VH: That’s it [laughs]. CB: So you went – so your first main posting – VH: My first posting was at Cottesmore. CB: Right, and what planes would you be on? VH: I was on the Anton’s, Oxfords, and just the, all the things to tinkle about with, you know. ‘Till I was posted on Bomber Command. CB: And the planes, were they easy to maintain, or? VH: Yeah, they were quite easy really. CB: You learnt quickly? VH: Yeah I did, yeah. CB: Was it good training? VH: Oh yes, I had six months training at Kirkham. CB: And what were you – VH: I was flight mechanic air frames on everything bar the engines. CB: Right, so you would main – so what would that entail? So, tell me about, you know, all the details of it. VH: Well, you looked after the runners and the balance and everything, you know. CB: Right. And then you entered Bomber Command. VH: That’s it, yeah. CB: So your first, first job would be, or your first posting rather, would be – VH: Ah [pause]. Cottesmore was the first one I went to with Operational Training Unit. CB: Yes. VH: Yeah. CB: On OTU? VH: Yeah. CB: And, where did you go to after that? VH: I went to quite a few stations. I went to Bardney for a while, Woodhall Spa, er, Lakenheath, Marham, all different stations you know. With all different squadrons that I went with. CB: Yes, and what was your work there? Same sort of thing? VH: Flight mechanic airframe. I done that everything bar the engines. CB: What planes were you working on? VH: I worked on Wellingtons, Mosquitos, Lancasters, Hamdy Hamptons [?]. CB: Did you ever go for a flight in these, any of these? VH: Oh yes. So when they used to do something to the airframe or engines, you used to, we used to go up with them for an air test [emphasis]. Yeah. CB: So you did you go for any long [emphasis] trips in them? VH: Not really long trips, no. First I went I think was Peterhead, when we went up there to refuel them. CB: And did you enjoy the flight? Do you think – did you – VH: Well I love flying. CB: Did you regret not going for aircrew? VH: I don’t, no [laughs]. I think I would have enjoyed it, you know, but I might not be here today [both laugh]. CB: So where was your accommodation, say at Bardney? Where was – were you still in the Nissan huts? VH: No, I think I was in buildings there, I think, I’m sure it was. CB: Was it, were you, did you have accommodation with a family. Were you – VH: No didn’t have it with no family. CB: It was in an Air Force – VH: Air Force quarters, yeah. CB: Air Force quarters. VH: Yeah. CB: And what did you do, where did you go for relaxation in Bardney? Do you remember? VH: Not really. Used to go out with the lads, you know, and have a drink and a smoke [laughs]. CB: Pubs? [VH laughs]. Dare I suggest? Do you remember Bardney at all? VH: Not a lot, no. CB: So your, was your life mainly in the, on the camp basically? VH: It was on the camp, yes. CB: So, the planes – explain to me how it works. So what would be your typical day? VH: Well you go out on the dispersal plane [?]. The aircraft was there and you had to test the rudders, the elevators, the wings and everything. Then you had to test your hydraulics, make sure they are working and everything. CB: And then you’d – VH: Then you had to sign a form, Form 700, detailing what you had done and everything, and the pilot used to say ‘okay, I know that you’ve checked it.’ CB: And what planes would these be? Would these be – VH: I used to be on Lancasters, Mosquitos, Hamdy Hamptons [?], Wellingtons – CB: And what – but what about Bardney? Was it – what was it at Bardney? VH: Bardney? CB: Mm. VH: I think I was on Lancasters there. CB: Mm. VH: Yeah. CB: What did you think about the Lancaster as a plane? VH: Marvellous aircraft, lovely. CB: Did you think, you know , when you first saw it, overwhelming really? Like the size of it. VH: Well, the size of it yeah [emphasis]. I mean, the wheels were bigger than me [both laugh]. CB: But was it a case of just, you know, getting on with the job as it were? VH: Well it – true, yeah. I enjoyed the job, I did really. CB: What was the food like that you had there? VH: Very good there. CB: And can you remember – VH: And I met some very nice people, you know. Ground staff and aircrew and everybody and, I got on well with everybody. CB: So you enjoyed your time there? VH: I did [emphasis]. If I hadn’t got married I think I would have kept in the Air Force [both laugh]. CB: When did you meet your wife? VH: In forty, forty-six, yeah. CB: So after the war? VH: No, just before I finished the war, yeah. CB: Oh right. So you – I mean, good food in Bardney – VH: Oh I had good food all the time I was in the Air Force, I can’t complain. CB: Well, ‘cause there was rationing on wasn’t there? VH: Pardon? CB: Rationing on. VH: Oh yeah, but we weren’t rationed [laughs]. CB: No? VH: No. CB: So you just had your normal food then? VH: Yes, well, our food was lovely. Very good. CB: Did you have a bike to go around on, or? VH: I used to have a bike yeah, ‘cause when I was at Woodhall Spa I used to bike to Boston most nights, you know, if I wasn’t on duty and things. CB: Right. So, ‘cause these, these airfields were spread out, weren’t they? VH: Yeah. CB: A lot of them. And you needed a bike. VH: Oh yeah. CB: So you were dealing with Lancasters, and where did you go after Bardney? Can you remember? VH: No I went to that many. I went to Theddlethorpe [?], Bardney, Lakenheath, quite a few all local. All round Lincolnshire way, you know, most of them. CB: Mm. VH: The first I went away was at Marham in Norfolk. CB: Yes? VH: Mm. CB: And what did you make of that? Did you – VH: Marham? CB: Mm. VH: Quite a nice place. That’s where I had my first squadron of Mosquitos there. CB: Right. VH: Mm. CB: So you worked on the Mosquitos there? VH: Oh yes. I liked them I did [both laugh]. CB: The wooden wonder. [?] VH: We had the first squadron of Mosquitos and first day we got there at Marham the Germans came along and dropped flares. I thought ‘oh there we’ve had it.’ But we got away with it [laughs]. CB: Is that the first time you’d had any – VH: We had Mosquitos, yeah. CB: Is this the first time you’d seen enemy action as it were, dropping bombs? VH: Well it was, dropping flares over the place yeah. We thought ‘we’re in for it’ that night but we got away with it [both laugh]. CB: Oh dear. And do you remember anybody in particular, you know, friends? VH: In the Air Force? CB: Yeah, friends. VH: Oh yes. Guy Gibson. CB: If we’re – erm yes, that was at Woodhall Spa. VH: Yeah. CB: Did you work with him, or on – well, you were on 627 Squadron. VH: Yeah. I was with Guy Gibson, I worked with Richard Attenborough, Group Captain Cheshire. CB: Yes. VH: Mm. CB: So at Woodhall Spa, which is – did you finish at Woodhall Spa? Was that your last one before the end of the war? VH: I think it was. I’m sure it was, yeah. CB: And you were on 627 Squadron there – VH: Yeah. CB: Is that right? Were you, you were with other squadrons. 149 did you say? VH: Yes, I was, yeah 149 Royal Canadian Air Force – CB: You worked with the Canadians? VH: Yeah, and [pause] a Jamaican squadron, I don’t know whether it was 139, I can’t remember what that was but whatever squadron it was I got on well with all of them. Canadian and the Jamaica squadron. CB: Excellent. So at Woodhall Spa, how did you get there? Did you, did the Air Force take you there? VH: Air Force. Wherever it was the Air Force took you. CB: ‘Cause I think – VH: Transport, you know. CB: Right, ‘cause I think most people arrived at the station didn’t they? VH: Yeah. CB: And then they’d be picked up. VH: Well I did. One time I was posted to, er, where was it, Oakington was it? Yeah, and I got a transport ticket to Oakham, yeah, I got the wrong place [both laugh]. I don’t think, I made a blunder [?]. CB: Well it can’t have been easy travelling around in the war. VH: Oh yeah. CB: You know, on the trains or whatever. VH: Well it’s true. CB: So you arrived at Woodhall Spa, and, on Mosqutios? VH: Yeah. CB: Did, where did you live at Woodhall Spa? Were you on – VH: In billets. CB: Again, what is – VH: Woodhall Spa. CB: - what is now Thorpe Camp? Was that where you were? VH: Where? Other: Thorpe Camp. You know where they’ve got the museum and that. VH: Oh yeah. CB: That’s where you were? VH: Yeah. Other: Yeah. CB: What did you make of it, or what did you – VH: Of Woodhall Spa? CB: Yes. VH: I loved it. Nice place. CB: Did you go into the town very often? VH: Yeah, I used to walk to Tatteshall and places like that which was nearby. CB: Did you, you know, how did you relax there at Woodhall Spa? Would the, would the ground crew ever, you know, mix with the aircrew? VH: Oh yes, quite often, yeah. I had a good mate there, Canadian chap, and I can always remember one night in the – he sat awake, the crew generally get together chatting before they go on a raid, and he was a rear gunner, and he was chatting [?] that night and I went over to him and I says ‘what’s wrong George?’ And he says ‘we’re not coming back tonight,’ I says ‘well don’t talk stupid.’ They didn’t. CB: Wow. VH: He had that premonition they weren’t coming back. CB: Did you ever – VH: That did upset me, you know, that did. CB: Did you get that a lot, or was that just one you remember? Do you, you know – VH: Ooh no, I remember quite a few who didn’t get back. CB: Mm. But then, did they – VH: Waited for them, but they never returned. CB: Did they had the premonition though before they went? VH: Yeah, one or two did. CB: And how did you feel about that? It – CB: Well I felt awful really. When you’re waiting for them and they don’t return, you know, really hits you. CB: Mm. What was the atmosphere at, in the, on the airfield? VH: Oh, it was very good really, yeah we all got on well together. The ground staff and the aircrew, you know. CB: And you would, as you say, you would relax together, and – VH: Oh yes, I mean, if you had no raids on and everything you’d go out and have a drink with the lads and the aircrew, you know. CB: Do you remember the, where you would go in Woodhall Spa? VH: No, I can’t remember, you’re going back – CB: I think, I think it was the Mucky Duck, wasn’t it? VH: Oh that, I was gonna say the Mucky Duck! [Other speaks in background but is unclear what is said. VH replies but this is also unclear.] CB: Yeah, I think that was quite popular there wasn’t it? VH: It was, yeah [both laugh]. Then I used to cycle sometimes into Boston. CB: Yes. So you’d cycle into Boston did you say? VH: Yeah, cycle into Boston, yeah. CB: Right, that’s a fair way. VH: Well, it was really, but – CB: And, on your own, or with your friends? VH: Yes, with a girl from there. CB: Oh right [both laugh]. And what would you do in Boston? What did you think of Boston? VH: I liked Boston I did. Boston Stump and all that. It’s quite changed from what it used to be, but it, I thought it was a lovely place at the time. CB: And what did you do, where did you go? VH: Go for a drink [laughs]. CB: Did you go to the glider drome? I think that was a popular place. No? Perhaps for the aircrew. VH: Was it Withamgate [?]? CB: Yeah. VH: We used to go round there, and the Boston Stump and all round that way, hmm. CB: So you enjoyed that? VH: I did [laughs]. CB: And what would, ‘cause – there was some famous station commanders, well not, commanding officers at Woodhall Spa. Do you remember Cheshire? VH: Group Captain Cheshire, yeah. CB: What do you make – VH: Guy Gibson. CB: What did you make of Cheshire? What did you think of him? VH: I got on well with all of them, yeah. CB: Can you remember – VH: They were quite good to us, they were really good to all the ground staff really, you know, ‘cause they relied on us sort of thing to look after them, didn’t they? [Unclear, both laugh]. CB: Indeed they did [VH laughs]. Especially I think, erm, Leonard Cheshire, he was particularly fond of his – VH: Yeah. Cheshire [unclear] at one time didn’t they? CB: Yes. And he would come and talk to you at, you know, when you were mending the aircraft? VH: Yes, I mean, when there was no raids on or anything and things were easier, we used to go out and have a drink with them sort of thing, you know, they were just like talking to anybody. Except when you’re on the parade ground it had to be ‘sir’ sort of thing, you know. CB: Did you do much parade ground? VH: Pardon dear? CB: Were you on the parade ground very much? Did it, was that part of your life? VH: Playground? CB: The parade ground. VH: Oh, we didn’t do a lot on the parade ground, no, because it was mostly time on the, looking after the aircraft, you know. CB: So you missed some of that out? VH: Yes, oh yeah, we didn’t have a lot to do on the parade ground really. CB: What was the discipline like? VH: Pardon? CB: What was the – VH: Discipline? Discipline was quite good, strict, you know. See, see, discipline didn’t really bother me because being in a home was run by all ex-army people, I was disciplined there. I had to march to school and everything, you know. So going in the Air Force, it didn’t really hit me. CB: So your time in the, the children’s home – VH: Made me more or less fit for the Air Force really. CB: So you look back on those as happy days, and – VH: They were, yeah. That home was very good. ‘Cause my daughter took me up there few years back didn’t you, and it’s not the same place now, it’s been taken over by retirement people, and when they knew I was one of the boys who had been there, ooh they shook my hand didn’t they [CB laughs] made quite a fuss of me. CB: Were there girls there as well or was it just boys? VH: No, just boys, yeah. CB: And you made some good friends there? VH: Yes I made some good friends there, yeah. CB: Did you manage to keep in touch with them afterwards? VH: One or two of them, but when I went with my daughter last time, and I saw one or two of the names in the church who’d been, passed away, and killed and that during the war. That really upset me. CB: Hmm. So at Woodhall Spa, another CO was Tate. Did you, did you come across Willy Tate very much? VH: Pardon? CB: Willy Tate, he was – VH: Willy Tate? I can’t remember dear. CB: No. VH: No. You meet that many people you know, you can’t remember all their names, sorta thing. CB: No, no of course not. VH: No. CB: So tell me what you remember of Guy Gibson. VH: I found him very very good. Very good to the ground staff. I think he was a bit trick [?] with the aircrew, but to the ground staff he was magnificent. CB: Well, that’s wonderful. So, you got, did you have a relationship with him? Did he you know help you, or come and chat? VH: Not really no. Just ‘how are you sir’ and ‘your aircraft’s ready’ and that sorta thing you know. CB: When the planes came back from their raids, and they were – VH: That was lovely seeing them come back [laughs]. CB: Yes. VH: But when you’re waiting, and yours don’t come back you think ‘oh, has it crash landed somewhere’ or ‘has it landed at another airdrome?’ And eventually you hear it hadn’t come back. It really upset you. CB: Hmm. And then it would be your job to, to mend them. And get them back right? VH: Yeah. CB: Hmm. So were there any events that you can remember at Woodhall Spa? You know, things like, I don’t know, collisions, or, you know – VH: There been one or two crash landings. I seen crash landings, yeah. CB: What did you – can you remember how you would – VH: We didn’t do nothing to it, the air, er, the fire engines and everything used to go out to them. Other: But you remember the – when they were training for the Dambusters don’t you? VH: Pardon? Other: When they training for the Dambusters. VH Oh yeah, when they training for the Dambusters. We wondering what was happening because they was training for about two or three months before they actually done it, and they come over and did what we called hedge-hopping, just come over the hedge, just miss us, you know, and you think ‘what’s going on?’ [CB laughs]. And they kept it a secret right ‘till the night they went. When they came out that night they said ‘this is it,’ so we said, ‘what,’ ‘what we’ve been training for you know when we come back’ [CB and VH laugh]. CB: So they were – VH: Very secretive, it was. CB: Yes. VH: But when they came back they said ‘we done it’ [laughs]. CB: Right [both laugh]. So was – that was at Scampton, were you at Scampton at all? VH: No that was at, er, Woodhall Spa [emphasis]. CB: Right. VH: I never went to Scampton. Only went there for my medals didn’t I? That’s all. CB: Mm. So you – how do you remember your wartime career? VH: Yes I can do, yeah. CB: And you, how do you remember it, with – VH: Well I think it was quite good really because the – I was disobedient at home so going to the Air Force, that was more or less the same, sorta life, sort of thing. CB: Mm. So [pause] the – I think some of what the personnel, the aircrew at Woodhall Spa, they were, they were known for their pranks, some of them. And I suppose the low flying would have been one of them. VH: It was, yeah. CB: Did you have any, many air raids there? VH: No not really, no. CB: So you, the Germans didn’t attack you – VH: No. CB: At Woodhall Spa? It was [unclear] VH: No, no, they came over when we were at Marham, Norfolk, when we had the first squadron of Mosquitos. I thought ‘this is it,’ flares came down but as soon as the gun fire opened up they went [both laugh]. CB: So do you remember any time – the time that Guy Gibson took off on the night he was killed? Do you remember anything about that? VH: Er, he just came out, and he just said ‘I’m gonna take this aircraft’ and that’s it. Just didn’t come back. CB: No, he was with Warwick – VH: Mosquitos. CB: Yes, because he wasn’t too familiar with them, was he? VH: No. CB: So – VH: It could have been that you see. CB: Yeah. Was he – do you remember what his manner was like, how he – VH: He was – I found him quite good myself. CB: But he wanted to get back flying, didn’t he? Do you remember anything about that particular night, as to how he was? VH: No, he came out that night and says ‘do you mind if I take the, this Mosquito?’ and I said ‘no sir,’ and he just got in it and went. CB: And what did you feel when he didn’t come back? VH: Well I felt awful really, you know. I wondered what, if he really knew in his own heart whether he was going to do anything. You don’t know what’s in their mind, do you really? CB: No, no you don’t. But you, you just thought it was just another, another plane that hadn’t come back. VH: Yeah. CB: You didn’t – VH: That’s true. CB: Did you know straight away that – I mean he could have landed somewhere else. When did you find out that – VH: Ah, we didn’t find out for [pause] two, two, three hours after. They must have rung round to see if he’d landed anywhere else, but, he hadn’t, so. CB: No. VH: I think over the hills was it, in Kent I think, where he actually crashed, I think. CB: He crashed in Holland. VH: Yeah, oh was it Holland? CB: Yeah. VH: I knew it was somewhere – CB: Yeah, coming back from an operation. So, you, you remember it with fondness, the – VH: Pardon? CB: You remember it with fondness, your time in Bomber Command – Other: Fondness, you enjoyed it. VH: Oh I, I enjoyed all my life [?], I loved Bomber Command. CB: So – VH: And everyone I worked with. We all seemed to be like a family, sort of thing, you know, we worked ever so well together, the ground staff and the air crew did. CB: And you went to Lakenheath. Were the Americans there at Lakenheath when you were there? VH: Pardon? CB: Were the Americans at Lakenheath, when you were there? VH: Was I – CB: Was the – Other: Were the Americans there? Were the Americans there? VH: Americans? Oh yeah, they took over because it was a nice place, you see [CB laughs]. Better than where they were! It was all big buildings and they took over and we were put in Nissan huts! [Both laugh]. CB: What did you make of them? Did you, did you get on well with them? VH: Well we, yeah they were alright [both laugh]. CB: Did you have better food when they were around? VH: Oh yes, definitely yes. They got the best off [both laugh]. CB: And where were you? Were you in billets again at Lakenheath? VH: Yeah. CB: So erm, did you ever have to, you know, live in, with a family or anything like that, or were you always in billets? VH: Er, in billets or Nissan huts, you know. CB: Yes. VH: Yeah. CB: So, you’re coming towards the end of the war. How did you feel, you know, we’ve just had VE day. How did you feel? You know, was it a relief, or were you, how did you feel? VH: Well, I don’t know really. I don’t know whether I was [unclear] in the Air Force, but I’d just got married before I came out, you see so – CB: Right, so where did you meet your wife? VH: In Nottingham. CB: At a dance, or? VH: Pardon? CB: Was it at a dance? A dance? VH: Dance? Other: Where did you meet Mum? VH: Oh, I was having a drink [both laugh]. CB: And you obviously looked, saw her, and, you know, liked each other. So how long was it before you got married? VH: Only about six months I think. Yeah, wasn’t long [both laugh]. And I got lovely daughters and a lovely son, he’s passed away bless him, about three year ago innit? Other: Hmm. CB: And did you – VH: I had two lovely children, they certainly looked after me, they still do [both laugh], don’t you chick? Somebody does. CB: Do you remember getting married, and the rationing? VH: Oh yes. I had a double wedding. That’s my wife up there. CB: Oh, that’s lovely. Where did you get married? VH: Hyson Green, yeah. CB: Well, she looks very nice with her dress on. So, the rationing didn’t bother you very much? VH: No. Said ‘are you gonna get married the usual?’ and I says ‘no.’ [Both laugh.] CB: And where did you live after you were married? VH: Nottingham, yeah. CB: And when did the war – was the war finished by then? VH: Oh yeah, it had finished, yeah. CB: So you, you came out of the Air Force in – VH: Out of the Air Force in 1946. Other: You made your suit though didn’t you? VH: Hmm. Other: You made your suit. VH: Yeah I made my suit. CB: Oh wow! You made your own wedding suit, that’s – VH: Yeah because, in that home where, that I was telling you about, there was all different trades, and I went in the tailoring department. I done four years at, four years apprenticeship before I joined the Air Force, so I made my wedding suit. CB: You kept the skills going [both laugh]. So what did you do when you came out of the RAF? VH: Er [pause], I went to the co-op [?], I was only there one day, and then, I went to Boots then and I was there for thirty year. CB: Worked in Boots the chemists? VH: Yeah. CB: Oh, what did you do there? VH: Making medicines and everything [unclear from Other]. CB: Oh. VH: And then when they stopped making their own medicines, I went on security, and stuff like that. CB: So you were there for a long time. In Nottingham all the time? VH: Oh yes – CB: You settled there. VH: Never left Nottingham did I? I was at Boots thirty year I was at Boots. CB: Did you keep in touch in your, you know, your friends and your comrades in the Air Force? VH: No, no, never kept in touch with any of them. CB: Although you had good relationships with them all? You didn’t feel – VH: But we didn’t, we didn’t keep in touch with each other no. CB: So, your thirty years, what did you – [unclear] didn’t work in those days did they, do your wife, your wife, didn’t work? VH: My wife? Yeah she was working, yeah. CB: Did she work? VH: What was mum now? Other: Machinist. VH: Oh, machinist, that’s it [both laugh]. CB: And then you had your children. VH: Yeah, two lovely children. And my grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, they’re all marvellous to me they are. CB: What did you feel about how Bomber Command was treated after the war? VH: In which way? CB: Well, when Churchill made his speech, he didn’t, after the war, he didn’t mention Bomber Command. VH: I know. CB: Because of all the bombing, and – VH: Yeah. CB: How did you feel about that? And you’ve only just had your clasp that you’re entitled to. How did you feel, after the war, and how you were – VH: I don’t think they treated them as they should have been treated, myself, because they’d done a marvellous job. CB: And you – you’ve gone down, have you seen the memorial in London? Have you gone – VH: No I haven’t, no. CB: But you – have you gone back to any of your stations that you’ve been at, because – Other: We’ve been to Conningsby, we’ve been to a few with you, I’ve taken you to a few haven’t I? VH: Yeah. Other: Woodhall Spa we’ve been to. VH: Yeah. Other: We’ve been to Scampton now but – VH: Been to Scampton – Other: [unclear] did you? VH: Hmm. CB: So you, you went back to Scampton recently, I think, when was that? VH: Yes, er, that was when I had my [papers shuffling]. CB: Your medal. Your medal. VH: In that book there. [Papers shuffling, pause]. CB: I think, er [pause] ah. And what did you [pause], how did you hear about this, did they get in touch with you? VH: No, when I moved to here, to Retford, I lost my medals, so I wrote up to administrative ends [?] explained who I was, when I started and when I, when I got demobbed, and they dealt and sent them back, er, sent me a new lot. CB: And how did you get to go to Scampton? Did they write to you? Other: A gentleman from Scampton in the RAF came to us here, and said could they present them to him. CB: Oh. So what did you feel about that? VH: It was great, wasn’t it? Other: It was lovely. VH: All the family went, it was lovely. Other: It was a very special day, yeah. VH: Yeah. CB: They made a fuss of you? VH: Yeah [laughs]. CB: Well that’s a lovely, lovely thing to remember, isn’t it. VH: It is, yeah. Other: And they also presented medals to these gentlemen, they’d just come back from Afghanistan. CB: It’s lovely. [Pause]. Right Vic, so – VH: I went, I went out to get the aircraft ready, prepared because there was a raid on, when the crew came out, I was just sitting there, and I’d got this terrible pain, you know, they says ‘come on we want to go,’ and I says ‘I can’t get out!’ So they lifted me out, and they rushed me to Kings Lynn hospital, I got my appendix [laughs]. CB: Do you remember the hospital you were in? VH: Er [slight pause], no, er, it was Kings Lynn, but I can’t think of the name of the hospital. CB: And how long were you in there? VH: I was only in there a couple of week, if that. CB: It’s quite a long time these days [both laugh]. And then it says you were transferred to Addenbrookes. VH: Yeah, yeah I had something wrong with my thumb – CB: Right. VH: And the Air Force made a mess of it, so I ended up in Addenbrookes to have me nail took off. CB: So what do you remember about being in hospital? VH: Not a lot really, well, when I came out I got a fortnight’s holiday, er, was a camp. CB: What was the food like? VH: Good [emphasis, both laugh]. CB: So you, they sorted out your appendix problem – VH: Oh yes. CB: And then you, you went back. So it was, [pause], that’s some sort of home, admitted to Stowe, erm, I can’t quite read that. Was it just some sort of home that just was like a convalescent home was it? VH: Yeah. CB: And you were in there for a little while. VH: Hmm yeah, two weeks I think [chuckles]. CB: So they certainly looked after the – VH: They certainly looked after you, yeah. CB: [Pause]. So you’ve lived in Retford for, how long now? VH: Ten years now, innit chick? My daughter got me over here so she can look after me [laughs], don’t you chick. CB: Do you get involved in any Bomber Command, you know, reunions, or? VH: Oh no – Other: You’ve started to now. VH: Started going to a bit now, haven’t we, yeah. Scampton. We’ve been to one or two dos there haven’t we? Other: Mm. VH: Where was it that we went the other week? Other: Woodhall Spa. VH: Oh yeah we went to Woodhall Spa the other week, at a reunion day. Other: Scampton last week, and a Lancaster came over. VH: Yeah [laughs]. The Red Arrows were there, giving a display weren’t they. Lovely. CB: Well I think, think that’s about it Vic, that’s been very, very interesting. VH: Thank you very much. CB: Thank you. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Victor Harding Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Clare Bennett Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2015-05-20 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AHardingV150520 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Pending revision of OH transcription Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Description An account of the resource Victor volunteered to join the RAF aged 18. His first posting was to RAF Cottesmore where he trained to be a flight mechanic, air frames and worked on Antons and Oxfords. On completing his training, he moved to Bomber Command where he maintained Mosquitos, Lancasters and Wellingtons. After leaving the RAF, he worked for Boots for 30 years. Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:38:26 audio recording Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Maureen Clarke 149 Squadron 627 Squadron Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard (1917-1992) fitter airframe flight mechanic Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944) ground crew Lancaster military living conditions Mosquito Nissen hut RAF Bardney RAF Cottesmore RAF Kirkham RAF Marham RAF Woodhall Spa https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/513/8744/AGoldstrawBJ160827.1.mp3 8eaf418c74d7ce5c9c773b6e4cd64067 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Goldstraw, John Basil John B Goldstraw J B Goldstraw Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Goldstraw, BJ Description An account of the resource Two oral history interviews with Basil Goldstraw (1925 - 2023). He served as a fitter with 75 Squadron at RAF Mepal, before being posted to Singapore. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-08-27 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document DB. I am interviewing Basil John Goldstraw at his home a Haywards Heath on the 27th of August 2016 at 1600. Em Basil I would like you to tell me a little about your experiences before, during and after the war. BG. Can I just say, you got, when you said legally you have got to use your first, John, legally everything comes to me either JB, sometimes it comes Basil, the people who know, sometimes it comes Mr John. I got one this morning Mr John Goldstraw, which I don’t like. I have always known, everybody knows me as Basil, they cut it short Bas you see and that’s how I sign myself to my friends and Glen and everybody like that you see or sometimes I just say Basil. So it is just that it doesn’t sound right to say it the wrong way round. I am being picky on the one thing that. DG. Talking today to John Basil known as Bas or Basil Goldstraw at his home in Haywards Heath on the 27th of August 2016 at 1600. Basil as you like to be know best, would you like to tell me about your experiences during the war, before, during and after? BG. Yep; I was put out leaving me finger on it won’t I. DB. Here you go. BG. So that is working now? Right, em having always had an interest in the Air Force eh when war broke out I decided that A I didn’t want to be a Sailor, I didn’t want to be a foot slogger. So I thought the best thing I could do was follow partly an ambition and I went to Dover Street in Manchester at the age of seventeen and volunteered and was accepted for the RAF. My call up papers, my first place of residence was George Street in Edinburgh, rather remember this well because a lad from my home town was due to join up the day after me and his Mum came round to see me and said could he join, could he come along as company? I remember, we got into Edinburgh, we caught a tram, he was a bit slow and I remember him chasing down eh the street, following the tram until we managed to scramble him back on board.[laugh] From George Street the following morning we were trained to Arbroath and our residence was the Old Jute Mills in Arbroath. This is where the basic training took place eh and well remembered because it was an enormous building. Eh a bit like one of the Cotton Mills with everything moved out and there were probably a hundred, a hundred and twenty people living in there. Just as an aside I remember my Mum saying to me, make sure your clothes are aired and anybody who was at the Jute Mills at Arbroath will remember the difficulty we had getting our clothes dry. Every morning we had to put our, fold our blankets, fold our biscuits, put the blankets round the biscuits and do like everybody else had to do, towel and irons for inspection, hiding our laundry out of the sight of the NCO. In the evening we could hang the clothes out and the only way you could really get them dry and this applied to everybody not just me, was to fold your laundry between the sheets and sleep on it overnight and they got reasonably dry, eh it was quite cold but we survived and I can’t remember how long we stayed there but the next port of call for me was Blackpool and 3 S of TT at Squires Gate. Being in Blackpool we were stationed in Civvy Billets and I well remember the lady we stayed with, her name was Bardsley, Mrs Bardsley and a very nice person. There were three of us shared the one bedroom eh, the chap who joined with me from my home town he was one of the inmates, and another chap was Len Kennedy who we became great friends. He actually when the course finished he was posted to a Halifax Squadron in eh Pocklington. The lad from Loxton his name was Perkins eh he became ill so we parted company there from the eh, [unclear] training eh. I am a little bit, can’t remember actually to what happened but I done the Fitters Course and from there I was eh posted to Mepal, 75 NZ Squadron. Eh whilst I had been on the Fitters Course or after the Fitters Course I did volunteer for Aircrew and was accepted. Whilst at Meeple I had to go into sick quarters and then was transferred to the RAF Hospital in Ely from which they done a good job. When I came out the Surgeon said young man you are not going to fly anywhere. Always puzzled me why they didn’t regrade me medically and they I never did, they never did find out really what was the matter. It was only until after the war I think about 1953 or 56 this was diagnosed at St Marys Hospital in Manchester. The time spent at Mepal, I suppose was like anywhere else there were good days and bad days. Eh I was attached all the time there to the RNI Section eh, where we were doing engine, prop changes, modifications, servicing or whatever was required. I always remember two of us had done some work, I think it was on one of the outer engines and, and the rule of thumb was if there was four groups, if there was eh four; what should I say. Remembering that there used to be two groups, eh two people on each engine, I remember that we had finished and the rule of thumb was the last Crew to finish had to see to the engine test run up. See it off on its Air Test and sign the form 700 or 701 I can’t remember which it was before they could go. We were allowed because we were finished we were allowed the rest of the day of which was late afternoon and two of us went for a swim in the Old Bedford Canal at Mepal. As we were swimming the old plane that we had worked on flew over and we had no qualms at all. When we got back into the Mess in the evening, one of them said “eh I think you are in trouble,” so we said “why” they said “well as she came into land eh, the engine went wild, one engine went wild” I think it was the starboard outer “she was too late to do anything so she swerved off the runway, ripped, ripped the undercarriage off and was a mess.” Just on the side it wasn’t our engine for which we were pleased. The outcome was a clevis pin had fallen out of the throttle control and eh left it so they couldn’t control coming in, in the last minute. Poor old bloke, normally controls are examined or they like you, they like a Senior NCO to do that work or check it. People were allowed to do it, the poor old bloke who had eh, done the work ended up on a Court Marshall and I think he disappeared for a fortnight. We used to get the eh Fortresses and Liberators and that flying fairly low over and coming, they used to come back. When our lads were on daylights they used to come back in what we describe as a gaggle whereas the Forts would come back, what was left of them in a Formation. On one of these occasions eh our Squadron was about to land in circuit and the Fortress came in. Eh the Control Box virtually through everything at this Fortress to stop him landing but he seen Mother Earth and he wanted to get down to it and he crash landed luckily without any explosions or fire on the grass on runway near the top towards Sutton. Yeah eh a story that illuminated, if that is the right word from that, we had an MU on the, the airfield and they used to do Majors and Category work. The story is eh, the Americans were still, they were entertained, I don’t know if it was the following morning by the Officers Mess and I think probably a discussion regarding low flying had taken. The story is that morning one of the eh Pilots of 75 eh, was taking a plane up on air test and from what the story goes the American Pilot and his Observer and perhaps others went with them to see how the Lanc flied and everything else. Eh and out over the Wash, the Bedford Canals he came back with a bit of tree branches hanging from one of the engines, I think it was starboard inner and of course it had landed, he had been flying low and it went straight back into the MU for repairs. I don’t know the validity of that but it was a story that went around for quite a while. Again memories coming back, we had, had an intruder come in one night eh, and drop Butterfly Bombs, anti-personnel bombs all over the place we were out of action the following day until the Bomb Disposal people had been and we had no air defence at that time but eh twin browning mounted on a stalk were obtained from somewhere and quite a number of Ground Crew had to go down to Waterbeach for training eh, on these, on this equipment for future Air Defence. Luckily for everybody Gerry never came back again. The next instance that comes to mind is that the Ops, at the latter end of the war Ops were delayed then eventually I think they were cancelled. And eh some of the bomb load were delayed actions. And in the night, I think the idea was to get an early morning start and in the night a terrific explosion occurred somewhere up on A or B Flights one of the Lancaster’s, one of the delayed action must have gone off and we lost quite a few eh planes either through shrapnel damage and one or two just disappeared. Again we were out of action until some more arrived. We have on the, on the Squadron, on the Airfield we had a eh group of Instrumentalists, they were known as the “75’ers.” I don’t remember them playing on actually the Airfield but they used to play at Chatteris if they were not on duty Em, on, I don’t know Fridays, Saturdays night. It was always difficult knowing how to get there because there was no bus service, you had to cadge a lift or cycle. Em, sometimes, sometimes if you got a lift you couldn’t get one back because the chap giving you the lift had got other interests at that time of night. It may sound silly but we had a good relationship with the Police, so you could go into the Station on arriving in Chatteris and say to the Sergeant in the Police Station, little Police Station there, “have you got a bed for the night Sarge.?” And if he was not busy he would say “right ho lads.” And you would stay there overnight, catch the workman’s bus in the morning, eh put two bob in the box, in the box for the eh, Police. Catch the bus, the bus that dropped you of somewhere where you could get into the Airfield without the eh SPs noticing you. As long as you were there for eight o’clock in the morning nobody seemed to worry too much. But it was quite regular that one could do that, it sounds silly you couldn’t do it now. Eh but eh we were friendly and of course the band the billet that I was in we used to play a lot of eh cards, some people gambled, I didn’t but we used to play, can’t remember the card game, it was fifteen two, fifteen four so you could perhaps remember that. Eh we had the eh Officer of the day came down to inspect and there was no list, official list on the back of the door for who were inhabited the bill, the eh hut but there was a list there with our, Crib that was the name of it, I have just remembered our crib tournaments that we used to run in the billet. The NCO in charge said “well Sir the, the crib notices is on and everybody of note is on the crib notice, so we got away with that one. Eh I remember with the Seventy Fivers Band, Arthur Swift he used to play fiddle, Johnnie Kimber he used to play sax, Len Mitchell use to play drums and there was one other that I can’t remember. When maximum effort was on em and I am not sure wither we had twenty four or twenty six planes eh we had long hours at times, I remember working all day and then in the evening we worked through the night, I remember that well because I changed a prop. And when we rung it up it had, had battle damage on it an had been repaired eh and when we rung it up the thing vibrated. This was the latter end of the night we were working, so that was a big panic on to get the trestles on again and change the prop, we had to do it to make sure it was balanced. Eh but some days were long and some days as I said extended through to the following morning. When at the latter end of the war eh the Squadron was moved to Spilsby, if I remember right 424 Squadron came in to eh Mepal and 75 were I think preparing for Tiger Force and then going home, they were going to be equipped with Lincolns. Em; we then some personnel were moved, I was one of them to Upwood and then from Upwood there was then one or two people, I was one of them selected for Overseas again for Tiger Force. We were flown out in an old York via Malta, Albania, Karachi and for a while at Calcutta at Ballygunge for about for about six weeks and then from there eh a Dakota down to Mingaladong, Butterworth, eh and eventually into Singapore from where I was demobbed. We came home by a Dutch liner as they called it the Umbernauld and Barnabelt[?] if anybody came home on that they were lucky to get home and the boat itself became the Moortown[?] and burnt out in the Med in, in fifties or sixties so it should have been burnt out before we got on it. These days one listens to our lack of equipment and poor equipment. Eh, nothing seems to have changed since I was in the Services eh my tool kit eh that I was issued with and other people consisted of a few assorted spanners, a hard faced hammer and screwdriver and pair of pliers. Eh so as I say as regards equipment I don’t think much has changed today. After the war when I was demobbed, I am trying to think, just going back to tools, one of the items that I always seemed to get to on a maintenance was a, because we was handed strips of hard paper with the tasks we had to perform on an engine. And one had to sign for everything that one did so that, that piece, that slip of paper went into the log book which carried your name. Eh there was a small boost aneroid on the port side of the Lanc. Eh and a little dome on there was held on by three ba screws and nuts. I always remember nobody had a three bar spanner so one had to manipulate a pair of pliers and hope it worked because one had to take the aneroid out and clean the eh the slide valve. Em I was in March one day an there was an iron mongers in there, I slipped in and said “have you got a three ba spanner by any chance?” They are the sort of things, mag spanners and that was very useful, in actual fact I have still got it in my tool box. Memories, good Lord, thus saying I got demobbed I think it was near Preston I can’t remember the name of it but that doesn’t matter eh, and of course went back to work for the local authority which we were a borough with our own gas, sewage works and eventually I became in charge of all the maintenance not only on the eh plant, on the vehicles but also on the sewage works equipment and the water works. Having; I had special and separate overalls at the time and separate wellingtons dependant on wither it was a sewage works or the water works that I was attending. Rather laughable but really Health and Safety hadn’t really got in properly then. Eh I quite, it was interesting, I quite interesting and I stayed there until 1968 when I moved down into the Sussex Area again with an other author, authority and in the meantime I,I had become a Member of the Road Transport Engineers, Institute of Road Transport Engineers and one or two other things. So I retired I think in 1980,83 or 86 that, beyond me to remember so I have had quite a good wholesome retirement for which I am very grateful. I suppose one interesting point would be that I was always in R and I, chap named Flight Sergeant Sadler we had always been, he was an Australian he had an MID up and we always referred to him as Bondy Sadler very rarely did you say Flight to him. He was that type of bloke that eh accepted the fact that he was like everybody else, that he were human. Eh with the Flight people we had A, B and C Flight we never really encountered them. It was not an anti-social thing it was just the way that they were on the Flights, they would, they would probably have eh a Rigger, an Engine Fitter and possibly and Electrician and Armourer to each, to each Lanc eh and eh they spent their life generally eh maintaining, repairing the same plane until unfortunately that plane perhaps became lost in action and eh they knew the Aircrew much more than we in, well we didn’t actually in RNI we didn’t actually get in contact with the Aircrew. Our, our, ours was a Lancaster repaired if it went out on air test, came back, the next one was virtually waiting to be attended to so em, eh we were not anti-social say. Luckily a lot of people who were on R and I eh we, we, we sort of associated with particularly in our hut. Just memory that. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Basil Goldstraw Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Denise Boneham Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-08-27 Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AGoldstrawBJ160827 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Description An account of the resource Basil Goldstraw was classed as medically unfit for aircrew and, following training as a fitter, he was posted to 75 Squadron at RAF Mepal. He discusses aspects of his work as a fitter, being bombed, and life on and off the station. He was posted to Singapore as part of Tiger Force and worked as an Engineer with local authorities after the war. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Hugh Donnelly Maureen Clarke Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain Singapore England--Cambridgeshire England--Chatteris Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1945 Language A language of the resource eng Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:28:39 audio recording 75 Squadron B-17 bombing crash entertainment fitter engine flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Lancaster military living conditions military service conditions RAF Mepal Tiger force training https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/2261/40727/BGrayDAGrayDAv10001.2.jpg 5fde851226b4290ddcd7f62490f60b89 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/2261/40727/BGrayDAGrayDAv10002.2.jpg 902573c706840ca4f84ca7be4a0f1b2c Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Gray, Donald Arthur Description An account of the resource 57 items. The collection concerns Sergeant Donald Arthur Gray (b. 1922, 1006912 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 460 Squadron. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Catherine Burrows and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2021-06-10 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Gray, DA Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document The Diary of a Flight Engineer in the Second World War My name is Don Gray and at the outbreak of the Second World War I had just taken my School Certificate at the local Grammar School, Sir John Deane’s in Northwich, Cheshire. I had moved into the 6th Form to commence studying for my Higher School Certificate in 2 years’ time. I was mad on aeroplanes. I found the course irksome, particularly with all the exciting war news continually pouring out of our wireless. I decided to leave school, much to my parents’ disappointment, and take a correspondence course in Aeronautical Engineering with a view to making a career in the R.A.F. I do not think I chose the right approach as I badly wanted to fly and, after my 18th birthday in April 1940, I became more and more restless and lacking in concentration on my studies. In May 1940 I travelled to the R.A.F. Recruiting Centre at Padgate, Warrington and told them I would like to be a pilot. I passed all the medical checks but was then told that there were no vacancies for pilots but that I could be a Navigator, Bomb Aimer/Observer, Wireless Operator or Air Gunner. I told them it was Pilot or nothing so they suggested that I trained as a Flight Mechanic as it would be easier to remuster to Pilot later if I was already in the R.A.F. I foolishly agreed. I trained in Blackpool as a Flight Mechanic (airframes), did well on the course and passed out as a Leading Aircraftsman at the end of 1940. I served on various R.A.F. stations in the following 2 years, having repeated applications for remustering to aircrew turned down generally on the grounds that they could not waste the money they had spent on my training. So much for the advice I received when I joined up! During this rather unhappy period of my R.A.F career, I scrounged flying lessons from understanding pilots whenever I could and spent as much time as possible on the Link Trainer in the hopes that the experience might count in my favour in my endeavours to become aircrew. At the beginning of 1943, when stationed at Swinderby near Newark, which was equipped with the dreaded Manchester 2 engined forerunner of the Lancaster, I was called to the Station Commander’s Office. He thumbed through my many requests to become a pilot and asked if I had ever considered becoming a Flight engineer who, on 4 engined bombers, was the emergency pilot too. My experience over the last 2 years of servicing all types of aircraft would stand me in good stead (and also satisfy the R.A.F.’s conscience on wasting the cost of my training) and would be the quickest way of getting me airborne. I was pretty fed up with my ground job and, after a little thought, agreed to the remustering. I was posted to R.A.F. St Athan in South Wales, where Flight engineers were trained, in February 1943 and passed out as a qualified Flight engineer in November of that year. [page break] Flight Engineer Don Gray. DFM [symbol] Joined R.A.F. June 1940 [symbol] Trained in Blackpool, passed out as a L.A.C. (Leading Aircraftsman) December 1940 [symbol] Seconded to A.V. Roe 1941/42 at Chadderton, Manchester assembling Lancasters [symbol] Flight engineers Course, St Athan, S. Wales February 1943 to November 1943 [symbol] Crewed up January 1944. Trained on Halifax’s at Blyton, Lincolnshire February 1944 [symbol] Converted to Lancaster at Hemswell 15th March to 8th April 1944 [symbol] First op. 9th April 1944 [symbol] Wounded on 6th op. 27th April 1944, re-joining crew on 15th June 1944. Flew with them until they finished on 4th August 1944. [symbol] Completed my tour of 32 ops. with various Pilots on 27th September 1944 [symbol] Orderly Room Flight Sergeant at Hemswell until 22nd April 1945 [symbol] Glider Pick Unit, Ibsley 25th April 1945 to 1st May 1945. Qualified as pick-up winch Operator [symbol] Flew out to Karachi 23rd May 1945 [symbol] To Calcutta 12th June 1945 [symbol] Akyab, Burma (our base) 30th June 1945 [symbol] Flew until 3rd October 1945 [symbol] Then ground jobs Rangoon and Seletars [symbol] Sailed home from Singapore on Capetown Castle [symbol] Discharged from Kirkham April 1946 THE CREW LANCASTER J.A.683 D2 [symbol] Pilot F/O D.J. (Dan) Cullen (Duke) D.F.C. R.A.A.F. [symbol] Flight Engineer W/O D.A. (Don) Gray (Junior) D.F.M. R.A.F. [symbol] Bomb Aimer W/O Arthur (Robbie) Robinson R.A.F. [symbol] Navigator F/S W.H. (Bill) Gray (Senior) R.A.A.F. [symbol] Wireless Operator F/S R.W.R. (Ross) Yates R.A.A.F. [symbol] Mid-Upper Gunner F/S C.H. (Col) Wheatley R.A.A.F. [symbol] Rear Gunner F/S A.W. (Arthur) Knapp D.F.M. R.A.F. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource The Diary of a Flight Engineer in the Second World War (Don Gray) Description An account of the resource Don's autobiography begins with him leaving school and starting a correspondence course in aeronautical engineering. Although he wanted to be a pilot, the RAF persuaded him that a flight engineer doubled as a second pilot. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Don Gray Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Blackpool England--Chadderton Pakistan--Karachi Burma--Akyab (District) Burma--Rangoon Singapore England--Northwich England--Ringwood India--Kolkata India Pakistan Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Memoir Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Two printed sheets Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context BGrayDAGrayDAv10001, BGrayDAGrayDAv10002 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending text-based transcription. Under review Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Tricia Marshall Maureen Clarke air gunner aircrew bomb aimer flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew Halifax Lancaster Manchester navigator pilot RAF Blyton RAF Hemswell RAF Kirkham RAF Padgate RAF St Athan RAF Swinderby recruitment wireless operator https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/571/10320/BFraserDKFraserDKv1.pdf 7f9c985222c9f4a3d6bbf63c19e5c8d7 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Fraser, Donald Keith D K Fraser Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Fraser, DK Description An account of the resource 12 items. Two oral history interviews with Warrant Officer Donald Keith Fraser DFM (1924 - 2022, 1566621 Royal Air Force), a memoir, his log book, photographs and service material. The collection also contains an interview with Sylvia Fraser, his wife. He flew a tour of operations as a flight engineer with 101 Squadron. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Donald Keith Fraser and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-11-04 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy. Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document WO DONALD KEITH FRASER DFM 1566621 101 SQUADRON JULY 1943 – MARCH 1944 CREW NAME: WL EVANS [photograph of Donald Fraser] [page break] [photograph of Bomber Command Memorial] [page break] Contents Page Chapter A Introduction. 1 Chapter B Prior to World War II. 3 Chapter C Joined RAF 23rd July 1942. 7 Chapter D 101 Squadron Base Ludford Magna. 11 Chapter E 101 Squadron Operation Dates and Targets. 15 Chapter F 101 Squadron Notes on Various Operations. 17 Log Book and Battle Orders. 34 Chapter G Christmas 1943 and Christmas Dinner Menu. 41 Chapter H After Operations posted to Heavy Conversion Units. 45 Lindholme. 45 Bottesford. 47 Cottesmore. 51 North Luffenham. 52 Chapter I Advances in Technology. 55 What if? . 57 Chapter J Aircrew Bomber Command. 59 Wartime Bomber Squadrons. 60 Bombing of Berlin. 60 A Day in the Life of a Squadron. 61 Clothing Worn on Operations by our Crew. 62 Contact made with Two Crew Members plus information on others. 63 Chapter K The Lancaster Story. 67 Further notes relating to Black Thursday including information given by Len Brooks our Rear Gunner. 73 [page break] [four photographs of author and Avro Lancaster] [page break] INTRODUCTION Over the past 50 to 60 years I have enjoyed reading many books about bomber crews who flew with Bomber Command during World War II especially during the period from mid July 1943 until the end of the war. These books contained many accounts of true grit and heroism carried out by crew members. There are, however, a few experiences recalled which appear doubtful, a number of reported instances which are far-fetched or quite ridiculous to have suggested could have occurred. Crews of the heavy bombers normally consisted of seven crew members all of whom were well trained to carry out specific tasks and as a team made up a competent crew capable of carrying out the various operations asked of them. Operations were normally carried out over Europe (mainly to Germany) targets being the main industrial areas, factories, railway junctions and yards and eventually towns and cities, such as Berlin, Hanover, Hamburg, Leipzig, Frankfurt to name a few, all of which by 1943 the inhabitants were heavily involved in production for the German war effort. The Bomber crews objectives were to carry out the operations they flew on to reach the target, drop their bombs and return home safely with their aircraft undamaged. Remember all these young men were volunteers, highly trained with the Pilot usually the “Skipper” and Captain, this was not to say that he gave all the orders and that no crew member acted until he gave that order. The Flight Engineer and Wireless Operator were the most mobile within the aircraft, therefore, if a situation occurred within the fuselage either or both could intervene by giving a quick call to the “Skipper”, or should a fault occur with the engine, the Flight Engineer would usually be the first to notice and carry out the essential remedy while informing the Pilot of the situation with procedure carried out. For a crew to be efficient and confident they had to be alert at all times, watching, listening and acting immediately. Survival required a highly trained crew team with loads of confidence in one’s self and in the other crew members and in the aircraft, so giving them a very strong attitude to press on. A dedicated, loyal and skilful ground crew, a strong reliance in the Almighty (or what faith one had) and with very importantly more than normal, good luck, having lady luck on your side. I have therefore put on paper a few experiences which happened to our crew while flying over Germany during mid 1943 to mid 1944. The following are not from diaries – they are what I recall after a long time. The experiences are genuine, the timing may be a little out, but to the reader it will still show the excitement, the pressure, sometimes fear, but above all the confidence and determination the crew had to carry out the task involved and return back to base with a full crew still intact. A question I have been asked many times “why did you enjoy flying and with such odds against staying alive?” My answer, I loved flying, I enjoyed the excitement and I volunteered. I also liked the thought of coming back to base to a good meal and I felt safe and secure in my sometimes cold bed with its nice white sheets, compared to the Army personnel who 1 [page break] worked under much more difficult conditions not knowing when they would eat or sleep and under conditions just as dangerous as ours, in fact, in many, more so. By the end of writing I hope that I provide you with some idea of what these then young crew members of Bomber Command endured when flying over Germany for 6 to 7 1/2 hours at a time in a Lancaster bomber with around 2,000 gallons of fuel stored in tanks in the wings and with up to five tons of bombs slung under their feet along the fuselage, travelling at 250 miles an hour in the dark at 20-21,000 feet in height with temperatures of from -10 to 20oC below zero and with German fighters trying to shoot them down and with anti-aircraft guns (which could be very accurate) also trying to blow them up, just to make our journey a little more scary at times to find that on returning when we reached the English coastline that it was covered in thick cloud and dense fog making it almost impossible to find somewhere to land. Some of the words most suited to express the emotions of the crew in certain situations could be excited, interesting, scary, fear, relief, apprehensive and difficult. I think, however, that the Brylcream boys done a very good job all these years ago. Happy days! 2 [page break] CHAPTER B PRIOR TO WORLD WAR II 1919-1939 The First World War ended in 1919 after four years of fighting and with a very heavy loss of life on both sides. Those who were lucky enough to survive and return home found it extremely difficult to find employment. The Government had created some opportunities by forming the Forestry Commission with the role to establish over the coming fifty years a supply of timber sufficient to make the UK self sufficient in wood requirements. This was to be created by the purchase of large areas of land, mainly in Scotland and North England (cheap less productive land) then cultivating and planting this land with conifer species. To achieve this management had to be trained and forestry workers had to be recruited. Forestry schools were established throughout England and Scotland to educate and train management staff. One such school was opened at Dunkeld in Central Scotland where a Mr Simpson received his training and he afterwards took up the post of Nursery Manager at Tulliallan Nursery, Kincardine on the Forth. During the war the larger estates had suffered from the lack of gamekeepers and staff to carry out the maintenance and control of vermin etc, therefore there were many vacancies for people interested to fill these posts. My father and two of his brothers did just that, they became keepers on some of the very large estates in Scotland. My father and mother were married shortly after the war and he took up an appointment as a game keeper on a large estate near Stirling, where my sister Jean and elder brother Sandy were born. In 1923 he moved to take up Keepering on Tulliallan Estate near Kincardine. The family lived in the East Lodge which was situated adjacent to the main road from Kincardine to Dunfermline and next to the land belonging to the Forestry Commission nursery. This is where I was born on 24th August 1923. Two years later the family again moved, this time to take on the position of head keeper on Donibristle Estate and lived in the small village of Auchtertool, Fifeshire where my two younger sisters, Betty and Mary were born. These were from what little I can recall, were happy times, the family did not have much spare cash but had sufficient to satisfy the family needs. Mr Simpson lost part of his right arm during the first War and had an artificial part fitted. In 1949 I joined the Forestry Commission Research Branch and guess where I was stationed, at Tulliallan Nursery and Mr Simpson was still there. He told me that when my father left the East Lodge in 1925 he bought his hens and chickens from him. In 1950 the Forestry Commission built around 20 houses for its staff some 400 yards west of the East Lodge and Sylvia and myself were lucky enough to have one of them. Mr Simpson played an important role in our lives over the next 30 years, however this is another story. 3 [page break] Moray estate during the winter months arranged a number of pheasant shoots to which a number of friends and associates of the Lairds (The Earl of Moray) were invited to attend. The 29th January 1929 was one of those days and the shoot covered the area which my father was responsible for. The morning started with rain, however the shoot commenced and the guns and beaters started with good success. A good number of birds were raised and shot, as the day continued the weather became worse and by lunchtime, thunder and lightning had started so it was decided to call the shoot off. During the morning a few birds had been shot, but had not been collected by the dogs so my father with his two spaniels decided he would retrace the morning route and see if he could collect lost birds. The weather continued to deteriorate, while he was crossing a fence he was hit by lightning. As the day went on and he had not returned the other two keepers decided they would go and look for him. They found him where he lay by the fence with his two dogs nearby. This was a terrible and tragic day for all concerned, my mother with five children all under the age of 11, no house and little money coming in to support the family. My mother did have two sisters who stayed in Edinburgh and who visited fairly regularly and helped all they could with the family. The estate owner, the Earl of Moray and the Estate Factor were very helpful and within a week or two, arranged for the family to move to Aberdour where they gave us a house with a fairly large garden (this became quite a good asset especially when the War came). I was told when I was much older that at the time there was much talk about what should happen to the family the suggestion being that the family should be split up with the three girls staying with mum and the two boys (Sandy and myself) being placed with other people possibly with a relative or with other people. Our mother strongly disagreed and said none of the family would leave they would stay together. I believe that my mother made the right decision, had the family been split up, our lives would have been totally different and not for the better in my opinion. These were hard times for our mother (in those days there was not the same support or financial assistance available to call on as there is today) however somehow our mum managed to sort things out and keep all the family together. Unfortunately we as children were too young to contribute in the way of bringing in money to the home, our mum was a very likeable person and soon made friends and was extremely capable of working to earn money, she turned her hand to doing housework and helping people in their homes and for two days each week helping in Donibristle Estate house, which meant a fairly long walk to get there (one mile each way). She and her sisters were always very happy smiling people always ready for a joke, this helped to make life much better for everyone. She still had friends on the estate and the whole family occasionally in an evening would take a walk of around three miles to visit Mr and Mrs Linton, he also was a gamekeeper on the estate. Our mum was also a good Christian and attended church fairly regularly and also enjoyed attending some of the concerts and meetings held in the village hall, she also was a member of the WI. The estate was very good to the family we received twice a year a load of fire wood, which myself and Sandy would chop up into suitable sizes to use on the fire. In the Spring the estate workers would come to dig over the garden and planted potatoes which helped greatly, this meant that all we (Sandy and I) had to do was keep the garden free from weeds and hill up the potatoes and plant some vegetables. 4 [page break] As time moved on and we the children grew older all by the age of eight or nine years managed to find jobs. Sandy and myself delivering milk before going to school and then delivering groceries after school and at weekends Jean our oldest sister assisted in the Cooperative grocery shop. This of course all helped to bring in some money. The school leaving age at that time was 15. We all attended Aberdour school initially. At the age of 11 the choice was either moving to Burtisland school which was a technical college or go to Dunfermline high school, both schools were a distance away from Aberdour and required travelling by bus. All the girls, Jean, Betty and Mary enjoyed Dunfermline High, while Sandy and myself went to the technical school. We all got excellent grades in the exams. I left school in 1938 at a time when the job situation was very limited with little choice. I had two interests, first to be a forester, my dream being to see all the high elevation land covered with trees as it was during much earlier times and take part in that operation. Secondly to become an Engineer. I applied for two jobs, one on the Moray Estates to become a trainee forester, the other to become an apprentice mechanic with a garage company in Kirkcaldy. Both replied and I decided to take up the forestry appointment. This proved very enjoyable and I loved the variety of jobs and gained volumes of experience working with two brothers, Bob and Will Ewan. Will Ewan was foreman and took a liking to me and gave me all the encouragement and opportunities to carry out everything which was available. The Second World War commenced on the 3rd September 1939 and when I was 17 1/2 years old I volunteered to join the RAF on flying duties and became a flight engineer. So in the end I got both my dreams to come true. After the war being demobbed in 1946, I took up an appointment to become a probationer at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh. In 1948 I joined the Forestry Commission Research Branch. 5 [page break] 6 [page break] CHAPTER C JOINED RAF 23RD JULY 1942 The Second World War started on 3rd September 1939. I’m not going into details regarding the reasons why Britain thought it necessary to do so as I believe most people know the reasons. Prior to the war during the summers of 1937 and 1938 the Territorial Army held their camps on the outskirts of Aberdour on grass fields owned by Mill Farm, which was situated adjacent to the Sheriff Road. To us as youngsters it was exciting and interesting to see double rows of horses tethered along a single rope and the troops living under canvas in large tents. To see the different tartans depending on which regiment was resident in camp at the time, such as The Black Watch, The Camerons or The Gordons. They were the first troops to be called up for service followed by people from certain professions and the general public of different age classes, one had to be 18 years old before being recruited. All three services required recruits and there was a certain agreement of allowing people to join the service of their choice, however, if one service was short of personnel then recruits had no choice but to go where sent. I was sixteen years old when the war started and when my time came to be called up I wished to join the RAF and, if possible, to fly on reaching my 17th birthday. I decided I would volunteer for the RAF on flying duties. Volunteers usually were given the opportunity to serve in the service of their choice. I recall discussing the war with a few of my colleagues and suggesting that this war would change the face of Europe, and would also change all our lives completely if we survived. I was called up on 23rd July 1942; my orders were to report to Warrington Recruitment Centre. My stay there was for two days where I, along with many more of my own age were fitted out with uniform and all other necessities. We then travelled to Blackpool to commence our training and embark on a flight mechanics course. Blackpool like many other seaside resorts had many private residences available (usually used as holiday accommodation or bed and breakfast), these were now being used to accommodate RAF recruits. I with others was billeted in Montague Street, South Shore near to the South Shore beach. This turned out to be excellent, the landlady treated us extremely well, and we each had our own bedroom and facilities. She had to supply us with breakfast and evening meal, and normal washing facilities. In fact for all the time I was in Blackpool, which was just under a year I stayed there, the RAF supplied our towels etc. In fact two evenings a week we had what was called ‘shower parades’. In total there was near 10,000 RAF personnel billeted in 7 [page break] the town, so through the town certain buildings such as baths or swimming pool areas were converted into showers, rows and rows of showers with dressing accommodation alongside. The recruits such as ourselves were divided into groups of between 40 and 50 and each group had a corporal in charge, he was in charge of all our activities such as the shower parade. We had to assemble at a point near to our billet on certain evenings each week. The corporal would march us to the showers then afterwards march us back, he was also responsible for us on all other activities. The course of flight mechanic was a very intensive course covering both theory and practical work. This was carried out at Squires Gate near St Anne’s, three miles east of Blackpool and was originally a small airport. The hangers were converted to workshops for training purposes. We were transported in bus convoys daily, morning and evening to and from the base with our same corporal, Lofty Clark, in charge. We also carried out the usual training and skills necessary to be a good soldier including physical training, assault course, rifle drill and route marches. Most of these were carried out on the area around the South Shore pleasure ground. The mechanics course lasted for five months. At the end of each fortnight we had verbal exams and after six weeks written exams, each exam had to be passed before one could move on. If I remember all our group passed their exams. After the mechanics course we were given two weeks leave and on return commenced on a fitters course, which lasted a further five months, the same routine as previously. What I forgot to say, we had a break in the morning and afternoon when the NAAFI vans arrived serving a bun and a cup of tea. By the end of the further course we were capable of dismantling an aircraft engine and reassembling it with success. We also had a basic knowledge of the aircraft workings at this stage before moving onto the next stage of our training, the flight engineer course. We were divided into those who would be flying on Halifaxs [sic] and those who would fly on Lancasters, fortunately I was selected to fly on Lancasters. Blackpool was a fairly good place to be stationed at, as with its many parks there was always plenty of opportunity to play sport, which was very much encouraged by the RAF. I spent most weekends playing either football or rugby; in fact for the 1942‑3 season I played rugby for Blackpool’s third team. There was little time in evenings for anything, as I said two nights were taken up with shower parade, then most weeks a further two nights for other activities. Every Sunday there was a church parade, one had to attend the parade but not the service if it was not your religion. Most places in Blackpool were closed, however, the lower levels of the tower were still open and I remember the organ was still being played and the ballroom was open at certain times. For the flight engineers course those of us that were to fly on Lancasters were transferred to St Athans, South Wales. The course was originally intended to last eight weeks however, on arrival we were told that flight engineers were in such short supply that the course was being crammed into two weeks. To enable this to happen we worked a 12‑hour day, seven days each week, however, the course was a success and we all knew the basics about the Lancaster workings, although we still had not flown in a Lancaster. At the end of the course we were split up into groups of six and told to report to a certain Air Training Unit. I had to report to Lindholme near Doncaster, where other members of crew which included pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, mid upper gunner and rear gunner were already 8 [page break] at Lindholme operating as a crew for a period of four weeks awaiting for flight engineers to become available. On arrival we were introduced to our crews and the following day we were flying as a complete crew, however, not on Lancasters (Lancasters were too scarce to be used on training duties). We flew on Halifax, this was a heavy bomber and gave the pilot the opportunity and experience of flying heavy aircraft. We continued training and flying at Lindholme for a further week. As a complete crew and along with one other crew from the same course at Lindholme we were posted to 101 Squadron which was based at Ludford Magna seven miles west of Louth Lincolnshire. This was a recently built airfield; the runways and perimeter roads were complete along with the aircraft stand pods. Accommodation was nissen huts as were the messes. Roads and paths around the areas were still not laid; Wellington boots were the order of the day. 9 [page break] 10 [page break] CHAPTER D LUDFORD 101 SQUADRON Ludford Magna Ludford Magna, a small village situated on the main road between Louth and Market Rasen, was to change dramatically as the area was chosen to be the site for one of the new warfare RAF bomber airfields. Work commenced in spring 1943 and by May the airfield was ready for occupation however, as with many other war built sites, many buildings were far from being useable. The airfield had three runways with the main runway, which was two thousand yards long from north to south. The other two runways were 14 hundred yards, one of which ran east to west. They were all connected by a narrow perimeter track of which there were 36 standing pods. All personnel accommodation was nissen hut type buildings and erected on the north side of the main road running through the village, some distance from the main airfield. 101 Squadron took over occupation of the airfield in late June but even then there were no hardcore paths leading to the billets or the ablution blocks. This meant that travelling to and from billets or airfield, the only serviceable footwear was rubber boots. We as a crew arrived in late July and I remember squelching in the mud around the base and when it rained circumstances were even worse, and it did rain quite a bit during the autumn and winter hence the airfield got the nickname of Mudford (instead of Ludford) and was well deserved. On days when operations were planned the routine was briefing which was held at a certain time when all crew members met in the briefing room where the CO (Comanding [sic] Officer) addressed the crews stating which crews were flying and which if any were on standby in case any crew members were unable to fly. The CO would then open the curtains on the wall covering the maps and the target, after which the various heads of section gave details of weather expected on route over target and on return, also bomb load, fuel load and any other relative information such as height levels expected to be flown at by the different aircraft. Lancasters usually flew at one or two thousand feet higher than the Halifax, which would be flying at around 19,000 feet. It was most important for 101 Squadron to keep strictly to the timing and height levels as with ABC (Airborne Cigar equipment) on board, 101 Squadron crews task was to cover the rest of the bombers flying on the operation, along the route to the target, through the target and on the return route. Example, if the target time was 20 minutes for all aircraft to pass through the target and if 101 Squadron had 22 aircraft flying, each aircraft would be allocated a time through the target of one minute apart. This put considerable pressure on the navigator and pilot, the route was always discussed among the crew members such as pilot, bomb aimer and engineer in order to help and assist the navigator to stay on course such as any landmarks, heavy barrage of ack ack or search 11 [page break] lights, as these would usually mean certain industrial areas, towns or cities. Also if weather conditions were good possibly a certain bend on a river or railway, or road crosses, these markers were always very helpful to the navigator to keep him on course and on time. All crew members had different personalities we all, however, accepted that we were professionals and some of the best in our trades, and that belief and the fact that we worked extremely well as a crew. We trusted each other’s judgement and carried out the requirements without question. The crew (our crew) was organised similar to a football team we had a captain in our pilot Wally and with a few key team players who had the ability to carry out other members’ duties. They were Navigator, Jimmy, could act as bomb aimer, Eric our bomb aimer had sufficient knowledge of navigation to bring the aircraft home, and myself as engineer could in an emergency takeover and fly and land the aircraft. The gunners were the crewmembers most out of touch with the others. In my position I could watch their turrets for movement and could keep in touch with them, and if for any reason their turrets were not moving I could give them a call. I could easily see the mid upper gunner Bill and see the rear gunner guns Len when they turned to port. Eric our bomb aimer lounged in the front compartment of the aircraft on lookout for other aircraft and to aid the navigator, his map reading was spot on, and he liked to give a commentary of what was happening leading up to the target – such sayings as men it’s bloody marvellous, we are bang on time over the target, then this was his time he was in control, he was very precise with his left slightly, right a little, hold it there, left a little. I would be watching for other aircraft and for fighters, and as he said on this occasion that it was over Berlin I said hold it Eric another Lanc is just passing immediately beneath us. He said: “I have missed the target we will have to go round again”. In this situation Eric was in control and Wally our pilot even with a few strong words said to Jimmy our navigator “give us a new course to bring us round again”. There were the occasional shouts from the gunners such as “fighter on port, eleven o’clock” or “watch that searchlight” or “collision between Lanc and Halifax – no parachutes, poor bastards”. The wireless operator Norman (Nobby) was good at his job he never panicked. Nobby could obtain bearings when others couldn’t. I think he did naughty things on the frequencies to get priority. He had the warmest place on the aircraft. Jimmy our navigator was superb, conscientious, every course had to be accurate and everything he did he gave a reason for his decision. Wally our pilot would discuss with him the situation for the change of course and automatically changed course. Wally was an excellent pilot, steady and a good captain and we worked well together, we the crew called him our taxi driver. Taking off with a full bomb load and possibly two thousand gallons of fuel was the most nervous part of the trip, after receiving the green light he would taxi onto the runway, line up, test the engines remembering we had probably some waiting for five to ten minutes, with slow engine revolutions which could overheat the engines. We together would open up the four throttles when the engines were screaming he would release the brakes and the aircraft would start rolling along the runway. When we reached the 90+ speed he would require both his hands on the controls and I would push the throttle controls fully forward, keeping the port engines throttles slightly ahead of the starboard engines throttles, as I found that the Lancaster tended to veer to the port on take off or nearing the end of the runway. If we were still on the ground I would push all four throttles through the barrier, this gave the extra power we only used this in extreme cases, as it was hard on the engines and used extra fuel. Once in the air Wally would say “undercarriage up” then “flaps up” and we would start climbing on a spiral course until we reached the height of around ten thousand 12 [page break] feet before setting course on our operation. I would adjust engines to obtain speed required with minimum revs. As I previously said 101 Squadron operated ABC, which meant we carried an eighth member of crew. A specialist, his job was to jam German radio transmissions to the night fighters’ ground based controllers, his operating place was just behind the main part of the port side about 6 ft square with no external vision. It was said that these members had no one crew to fly with and were allocated a crew on an operation base, this maybe true however we were a very organised crew and this arrangement did not apply. We therefore were allocated Ken as a crewmember and he flew with us during the remainder of our tour. 101 Squadron radio call was for aircraft ‘Bookworm’, control tower ‘Bookshop’. Returning to after briefing was completed we returned to the mess where a meal was always arranged which consisted of a main course of egg, bacon and chips. We then dressed into our flying kit, collected our parachute and made our way to the crew room where we collected our flying rations, these consisted of sandwiches, Horlicks tablets chewing gum and a flask of coffee or tea. If you wished wakey wakey pills to help keep you awake while flying (none of our crew ever indulged in these) we also collected a package containing money and maps of the countries over which we would be flying on the chance that we may be shot down. After a few operations, the crew was allocated our own aircraft, for us X² the dispersal point was quite a way round the perimeter track and close to the road. The aircraft was parked facing away from the road and perimeter fence so when Mac our ground crew sergeant in charge of X² and his colleagues required to clean their dirty, oily boilersuits they would wash them in a can of fuel and hang them on the fence behind the aircraft, then when the engines were tested the slipstream would blow dry their clothes. There was usually four or five technicians allocated to each aircraft with either a corporal or sergeant in charge. They were a grand bunch of lads, dedicated and had to work in the open under all various weather conditions from high summer temperatures to severe cold and winter weather conditions. They also had a remarkable collection of spare parts hidden away in their crew hut, which they built up over time from broken Lancasters. This enabled them to carry out repairs and patch up any enemy damage that had been inflicted on the aircraft. This meant that the aircraft could be kept serviceable and ready for action without delay and not having to ground the aircraft while waiting for spares from the stores. 13 [page break] 14 [page break] CHAPTER E OPERATION DATES AND TARGETS [photograph of author] 15 [page break] Operations 101 Squadron 1943-44 Operation – Date - Place 1 - 20th August 1943 - Leverkusen. 2 - 30th-31st August 1943 - Munchen Gladbach. 0 - 31st Aug-1st Sept 1943 - (Abortive) Berlin. Starboard outer feathered, landed on three engines. 3 - 3rd-4th September 1943 - Berlin. Held in searchlights for five minutes. 4 - 23rd-24th September 1943 - Mannheim. 5 - 29th-30th September 1943 - Bochum. 6 - 2nd-3rd October 1943 - Munich. Shot up over Amiens landed Tangmere. 7 - 5th-6th October 1943 - Hanover. 8 - 20th-21st October 1943 - Leipzig. Electrical problems. 9 - 3rd-4th November 1943 - Düsseldorf. 10 - 10th-11th November 1943 - Modane. Fuel shortage, landed Tangmere. 11 - 18th-19th November 1943 - Berlin. 12 - 22nd-23rd November 1943 - Berlin. Rear turret frozen up. 13 - 26th-27th November 1943 - Berlin. 14 - 16th-17th December 1943 - Berlin. Heavy losses fog on return. Many fighter flares around target area. 15 - 20th-21st December 1943 - Frankfurt. 16 - 24-25th December 1943 - Berlin. Rear turret u/s starboard outer feathered. 17 - 29th-30th December 1943 - Berlin. 18 - 1st-2nd January 1944 - Berlin. 19 - 2nd-3rd January 1944 - Berlin. Mug passed out through lack of oxygen. 20 - 5th-6th January 1944 - Stettin. Best photo in bomber command. 21 - 15th-16th January 1944 - Brunswick. 22 - 27th-28th January 1944 - Berlin. 23 - 28th-29th January 1944 - Berlin. 24 - 15th-16th February 1944 - Berlin. 25 - 19th-20th February 1944 - Leipzig. Heaviest losses in group. 26 - 20th-21st February 1944 - Stuttgart. 27 - 24th-25th February 1944 - Schweinfurt. Best photo in group. 28 - 25th-26th February 1944 - Augsburg. 29 - 1st-2nd March 1944 - Stuttgart. 16 [page break] CHAPTER F 101 SQUADRON NOTES ON VARIOUS OPERATIONS In late July 1943 after completing my flight engineer course and joining the other crew members at conversion unit Lindholme near Doncaster, with two other crews we arrived at 101 Squadron based at Ludford Magna. The crews were always known by the name of the pilot and out of the three crews that arrived, two crews had the name of Evans; W L Evans and A H Evans. I was the flight engineer assigned to W L Evans’s crew and had flown with them at conversion unit, however, the records had been mixed up and showed me as flight engineer to A H Evans’s crew. The simplest method of resolving the problem would have been for me to join A H Evans’s crew and the other flight engineer to join W L Evans’s crew. W L Evans, however, said definitely not, I was his engineer and in no way was I not flying in his crew, the records were therefore corrected. For the next three weeks we worked as a crew getting to know each other and familiarising ourselves with the aircraft. When we were told that we were to be on operations we had flown 33 hours in total, 12 of which was night flying. Both crews flew, our first operation was on 22nd-23rd August 1943, the target was Leverkusen. There was of course much excitement among us and especially when at briefing the curtains covering the maps on the wall were opened and we saw the target, we were the new bods not knowing what to expect. We listened carefully to what was being said by the various Heads of Section regarding the weather, hot spots to miss along the route, where fighters could be expected and where flak would be very heavy. Leverkusen was a German town situated in the near proximity of the Ruhr Germany’s main industrial centre, where a high percentage of their heavy equipment was made. The Ruhr had been visited many times and considerable damage carried out which helped delay their war equipment this was an operation to attack specific targets, which would further upset and delay their war effort. After briefing we returned to the mess for a meal, which usually consisted of egg, bacon and chips. Takeoff was scheduled for around 21:30 hours so before that we had to collect our parachutes rations and packet containing money, maps etc to cover the countries over which we would be flying in case we had to bail out. We then changed into flying kit before catching the crew bus out to our aircraft. The next task was to carry out the pre-flying checks on the aircraft, then start the engines. Wally then taxied the aircraft along the perimeter track towards the takeoff runway, waiting in the queue for the aircraft in front to obtain the green light to takeoff. Then our turn, green light given, we turn onto the runway, line up at the end, carry out the formal checks between pilot and engineer. Wally our pilot and skipper then holds on the brake as I open up the four 17 [page break] throttles, pushing the port two slightly ahead of the starboard two, let brake off and feel the aircraft rush along the runway increasing speed rapidly (this was the most exciting part of the operation as far as I was concerned). As the throttles are fully opened and as the end of the runway is nearing, the heavy aircraft laden with fuel and bombs leaves the tarmac behind. Relief. Pilot: “undercarriage up” engineer “undercarriage up, brakes on off”. Pilot “flaps up”, engineer “flaps up”. As the undercarriage and flaps are raised you could feel the plane sink a little before starting to climb. Pilot to navigator: “course and speed, and height”. I would then reduce throttle to minimum revs to produce power sufficient to keep climbing at the speed asked for, then as far as possible synchronise the four engines to cut out unnecessary noise. The noise from four Merlin engines was a noise that you never forget. Taking off and managing to get this large aircraft off the ground safely while possibly carrying two thousand gallons of fuel stored in the wings and a full bomb load under your feet, as I said previous, was always the most exciting part of the operation as far as I was concerned and I always marvelled at Wally’s skills in achieving this without any mishaps. I was always relieved, happy and knew that everything would be all right until we had to do it all again on the next operation. We had no troubles with our landing at base on return from Leverkusen, taxied to our parking space, caught a crew bus which took us to the debriefing room where we received a nice hot cup of tea or coffee with a spot of rum in if wanted. The debriefing consisted of an Intelligence Officer asking a number of questions about what we saw on route, anything unusual, searchlight positions around built up areas, flak, fighter activity. Did we see any planes being shot down and did we see any parachutes appearing and anything else, which may be of interest. We were then able to return to the mess for breakfast. While having breakfast, A H Evans and crew arrived, we had a few words regarding the operation and made our way back to our billet for a few hours sleep, luckily it was coming up to high moon period so for the next ten days there were no operations. The second operation, which both crews were on, was to Munchen Gladbach on 30th and 31st August, we had another fairly quiet trip without any problems and landed safely on time at Base. We heard that two planes were late, one of which was A H Evans, we held on at breakfast hoping to hear some news. News came through that a SR Lancaster had landed further south due to fuel shortage, it turned out not to be A H Evans and crew. The following day we heard the dreaded news that A H Evans’s crew was reported missing and presumably shot down. This was later confirmed. This was a new experience for us to know that seven young men who we had been friendly with, even for a short time, were no longer around. The engineer had come through the same training as myself – mechanic course fitters course at Blackpool – followed by flight engineers course at St Athans, then crewing up at Lindholme. He was slightly older than myself therefore not in my squad although I did know him on the course to say hello, and as you know both crews joined 101 Squadron on the same day and I almost changed places with him. The same routine was followed each time we took off and continued to be the most anxious time and possibly the most scary and nervous moments of each operation. We soon realised that each operation was different with its own hazards and that flying over Europe for however short or long a period, it was a very dangerous and frightening place to be. 18 [page break] The normal procedure for all aircraft after takeoff was to start to gain height, circling the area until reaching a height of around 10,000 ft before setting course for the target. Around the Lincoln area there were at least 20 airfields, each with at least 20 aircraft flying on each operation, that was why the residents living in the area knew when operations were on by the noise of 400 planes all circling to gain height. Once a course was set we tried to reach a height of at least 15,000 ft before crossing the enemy coast. There were certain things that we had no control over such as the weather, the conditions on route could be quite different from that forecasted. Increased wind speeds, a tail wind instead of a nose wind, these affected the navigator greatly who was trying to stay on route and be at a certain point within the time space of the operation. More so with 101 Squadron, responsible to give protection by using ABC over the full length of the operation. Thunderstorms and heavy clouds could also cause icing up of the engine air intakes and front edge of the wings (remember temperatures could be as low as -20°) and if not dealt with could cause engine failure. Fog, however, was the most serious problem, thick fog in the UK on return. Blanket fog so thick it was impossible to see anything from the air or the ground, this caused heavy losses of aircraft as returning from flying with low fuel levels, trying to find a landing ground was impossible, for many resulting in heavy losses in aircraft and crews. Conditions improved slightly when FIDO was installed on some runways. There were hazards from conditions which crews did not expect as the Met weather forecasts had given much more favourable conditions, otherwise we should not have been flying. As soon as we flew over the Dutch coastline we expected to be greeted by flak and if ground conditions were good by enemy fighters, depending on the operations route, flak could be very heavy and accurate especially round the towns and cities. Searchlights then also came into play especially those with the strong blue coloured lights. If caught by one of these it was almost impossible to lose them they were also radar controlled by anti-aircraft guns, which were especially accurate and many aircraft became casualties. There was also a fair risk of collision bearing in mind that on the route to the target there were possibly between 400 and 600 large aircraft (100 ft wingspan) all travelling in the same direction at the same time, making for the same point and expected to be over the target all within the space of 20 minutes or less (granted there would be a range of heights between some, possibly within a band of 2,000 ft). Think of it as 600 cars travelling along a motorway all doing 70 miles per hour, all expecting to pass point ‘A’ at between 01:00 and 01:20 hours. If congestion occurred the car driver would see and would slow down, there was no way of changing lane or slowing in an aircraft. It was therefore very clear to us as a crew early on that flying over Europe was a very dangerous and frightening place to be and if we were to succeed we had to work as a team, be alert all the time whether for two hours or eight hours. This we managed fairly well, we recognised that the safest place to be was in the middle of the concentration along the route. It was usually those who had strayed off course that were picked off by fighters or became casualties by flak. Our navigator Jimmy was therefore a very important member of the crew (he was an exceptionally good navigator) the rest of the crew could also help him which we did if conditions were clear telling him of certain markers, such as there is heavy flak ahead to 11 o’clock, or we are just passing over a river with a railway line and road alongside or such like information. He could then take action if necessary and give a change of course to Wally our pilot, or if we had a strong tail wind ask me to reduce speed slightly. So we had two-way conversation 19 [page break] between key members such as navigator, bomb aimer, pilot and engineer but only with reference to the operation in hand. The rear and mid upper gunners role was to continually scour the sky by rotating from side to side in their turrets, with one turning to starboard the other turning to port, the bomb aimer controlled the front myself had the only view to watch the gunners and watch ahead and to the sides, while the bomb aimer carried out his other work such as dropping window or preparing for his bombing run, therefore we were fairly well covered. If another aircraft came close or overhead, or below us on our bombing run a crewmember could give the alarm. If a fighter was seen and showing interest then mostly the gunners gave the alarm “fighter starboard, 2 o’clock, dive now!”. Wally would dive immediately and carry out a corkscrew manoeuvre then return on to normal course, this usually worked. If for any reason I could see the gunner’s turrets not moving I would give them a call, only once was it necessary to take further action (this is recorded later) usually they were just having a short rest or such like. Fuel was also a concern, petrol was rationed throughout the UK as most of the supplies had to be imported, therefore fuel for aircraft was also closely regulated on Lancasters to 200 gallons per hour flying time. Therefore if the estimated time for an operation was seven hours, fuel allocated was 1,400 gallons plus 200 extra, a total of 1,600 gallons. The flight engineer therefore did have some control; it was dependent on how efficient he was in regulating the engines (similar to driving, there are good drivers and not so good drivers). The Lancaster had six fuel tanks, three in each wing with the small tank on the outside of the wing which could only be pumped into the middle tank, the other two on each wing could be used in tandem or individually to feed the engines. It was the engineer’s responsibility to use the fuel distribution the most successful way so that whatever happened the maximum fuel was available to keep the engines running. To such ends I fully used the centre tanks each fuelling the two engines on port and starboard when sufficient was used pump tank fuel into tank two, then using fuel evenly from the other two tanks to supply the port and starboard engines. If anything unforeseen happened such as a tank being damaged from enemy flak or fighter guns, the minimum fuel loss would occur and I could re-adjust my method of usage by opening and closing valves. All engines could be run from one of the four tanks, this meant keeping a log and recording every ten or fifteen minutes. It was also necessary to record engine temperatures and oil pressure and with experience listening to the noise of the engines could give a good indication of how efficient they were running. Fuel could be saved by making sure that, when possible, the engine revs could be reduced and that other control on the aircraft such as flaps, etc were being used at optimum levels. This saving in fuel could be the difference between touching down safely or not, on the odd occasion when fuel loss occurred from a leaking tank or when on reaching the base area it was under thick fog and extra flying was necessary to find a suitable landing site. Life on the base was very mixed, flying on operations was usually carried out during the dark nights of the moon and these two weeks could be hectic, operations could be on two consecutive nights resulting in our crew getting to bed at around 05:00 hours and then having to be ready for pre-briefing and head of section meetings, followed by main briefing at 15:00 to 16:00 hours and once again ready for takeoff by 21:30 hours. Other times operations could be scheduled and then cancelled because of possibly extreme weather 20 [page break] conditions over the UK or over the target area. The dark nights were therefore a continual case of being ready to fly when called upon. The period of high moon was more relaxing. Training and practice still had to be carried out such as bombing practice for Eric; this was carried out on targets set in the North Sea a few miles off shore. Gun practice for Len and Bill carried out on a moving target towed behind a small plane off the coastline. The station had an excellent gym where one could keep fit which was essential and a very good library of general reading material and technical information. I also spent a considerable amount of time on the simulator improving my flying skills and landing procedures, also the period when crews could have some leave. I always travelled home on these occasions. We were on base during the autumn (harvest time) as a crew we decided to help the local farmer with stocking and collecting his grain crops as our accommodation Nissen huts were situated near to the farmstead, in return he offered us a pile of fire wood to keep our stove lit during the colder nights as the coke ration was rather limited. Ludford Magna was a small village supporting two pubs, a post office and a small but very nice church during the 11 months, which I spent at the base. I had never been in either of the pubs. I had attended the church service on a number of occasions. The Women’s Institute also ran a small unit situated on the main street where one could obtain a nice cup of tea and a cake, also within a mile radius there were two small cafes which crew members frequently visited during the day for a tea and a bun. During off flying periods we as a crew fairly regularly visited the Kings Head Hotel in Louth where we had a meal. Crewmembers also received generous leave, seven days approximately every 6‑8 weeks depending on weather and operation timing. We had extra rations of chocolate, vitamin tablets and cigarettes. On leave from Ludford I always travelled home to Aberdour in Fife, Scotland. It was a long, slow journey, going on leave we usually managed to go by transport from the base then catch a train at Louth to Grantham where we could catch the train on the main line travelling between London and Edinburgh. This was usually an overnight train and usually very packed by other military personnel doing the same. The train usually reached Edinburgh during the night or very early morning then another wait to catch a train to Aberdour. The conditions occurred on the return journey unfortunately the train reached Louth early in the morning when no such transport was available; it was then a seven mile walk back to base. Leave was a time to catch up with family and friends and especially to catch up with sleep and to chill out and rest. I said earlier that we did have good rations of sweets, chocolates and cigarettes which I usually was able to take some home. During the winter 1943/44 we had several days of heavy snow and naturally this added to the mud when it melted, it also meant that to keep operational the runways and perimeter tracks had to be cleared of snow, every available person, air crews and ground crews, armed with spades and shovels turned out to clear the snow. We were treated with the odd drop of rum to keep the cold out and our spirits up, and to keep us digging. Our billet nissen huts had snowdrifts around them, these Nissen huts were unlined and in bad weather there was considerable condensation inside and this used to run in the corrugations of the sheeting and if the temperature was cold enough, it would freeze. We did have heating in the form of a round pot stove with chimney from top of the stove up through 21 [page break] the roof. Coal or anthracite was the main fuel, it was of course rationed and in short supply. There were raids between huts to obtain extra supplies. The odd chair went missing along with any spare pieces of wood to help out. If you were lucky and had sufficient supply to completely fill up the stove and get it and part of the chimney extremely hot then it would keep the hut warm until the next morning. During the summer the problems were different, it was earwigs that would climb up the inside of the huts and occasionally drop into beds. I remember one of our crew members, I can’t remember who, while sleeping an earwig crawled into his ear and he had to pay a visit to the MO to have it removed. Field mice could also cause annoyance. 22 [page break] NOTES ON VARIOUS OPERATIONS Operation 3 3rd/4th September 1943 Target: Berlin We had a reasonably quiet trip keeping clear of the various hot spots on route and staying well on course, searchlights were many on the approach to the target with some very powerful blue lights. As we prepared for our bombing run we got caught by one of these powerful lights and no matter what we did we could not lose it, and if we did a further light caught on to us. We were flying at 22,000 ft; Wally decided the best manoeuvre was to put the aircraft into a power dive and loose [sic] height quickly. After four minutes we were down to 18,000 ft and still dazzled by its glare just then a Halifax, which was flying at a much lower altitude, drifted across under us and the light caught on to it, then the Halifax completely exploded. It had received the full blast possibly intended for us. These blue searchlights and guns were radar controlled and worked together. We reached the target and bombed at the lower level then set for home and had a quiet trip back to base. We were a bit shaken up by what had happened to the Halifax and in future made a mental note to keep well clear of blue searchlights. The navigator noted in his log the position of this light so if possible it could be targeted for special attention. Operation 6 (705 hours) 2nd-3rd October 1943 Target: Munich Takeoff time for the operation was 18:45 hours. For us as a crew this was a quiet trip, we had no problems with enemy fighters, searchlights were few and by keeping strictly on course found no problems with ack-ack. We reached the target on time, bombed and started on our way home still without any troubles, then as we thought we were doing well without warning we were shot up by anti aircraft guns near the town of Amiens which caught the underside of the body of the aircraft and along the wings. From this we developed a fuel leak. In trying to evade further damage from the anti aircraft guns Wally put the aircraft into a power dive at around 21,000 ft, trying to pull it out took Wally and myself great strength pulling on the control column, we were down to 5,000 ft when we finally levelled out. On inspecting the aircraft at Tangmere we found that many of the rivets on the lower side of the wings had been stripped open owing to the strain on the wings caused by the speed in diving, and counted over 80 holes of various sizes along the body and wings however after refuelling the following day we decided the aircraft was airworthy and safe enough to fly back to base where we could have repairs carried out quickly. Mac was not amused when he saw the Lanc X not X² but was pleased that we had brought it back safely for his team to repair it. 23 [page break] Operation 8 19th/20th October Target: Berlin During the week previously I had been told that more new Lancasters would be arriving at base and the one with X² as its recognition number would be allocated to our crew and from then on for our use on operations. Up until that date we operated on whichever aircraft was available. Mac, a ground engineer (Sergeant) had arrived on the station in July, until now he was a spare engineer, X² became his charge for all servicing and repairs. We struck up a great relationship between us and after each operation, as soon as possible I would contact Mac and tell him of any problems which we had experienced during the flight. I was thrilled to think I would be the only person operating these engines and I could nurse then [sic] whenever possible and be reasonably sure that they had not been misused for no good reason. Mac had warned me that because of the lack of time, the aircraft had been checked and was serviceable, however, he and his team had not yet had the time to check all electrical and hydraulic circuits. Takeoff was 17:30 hours and all went well until I retracted the undercarriage, it appeared to lift ok but the warning lights indicated that it had not fully locked. We proceeded to circle and climb and as we reached the Dutch coastline Nobby, our wireless operator, was having problems with his equipment, I then had a temperature gauge on one of the engines reading an excessively high temperature. The engine appeared to be working satisfactorily, however, we were still only a short time into our operation. I was concerned what may continue to happen and without radio contact we could have a problem. We still had a full bomb load on board and high levels of fuel, under these conditions we could not return to base and land without losing our bombs. Wally was in agreement with Jimmy our navigator, they decided that they would set course for Texel and drop our bombs on the installation there. This we did then returned to base. As we had no contact with ground control we landed without permission. On return before landing, however, we dropped our undercarriage and as the lights were not showing we did do a shallow dive with a quick pull up, this jerked the undercarriage down and all was well. The problems were resolved, the pressure gauge was faulty, meaning the undercarriage was not fully engaging because of limited pressure on the hydraulics. Operation 10 11th/12th November 1943 Target: Modane Normally as we have said previously operations were usually carried out during the nights when there was no moon. This was full moon; a beautiful bright night with clear skies which meant that aircraft flying could be seen for great distances. We had no trouble in reaching the target with little or no opposition from enemy fighters, searchlights or flak. Even on the way home it was trouble free and we could see and watch the marvellous sights of the high mountains as we passed over them and then without notice flying over Amiens a blue searchlight ‘coned’ us, immediately followed by heavy and accurate ack-ack fire which burst very close to us, causing some damage to the underside of the aircraft and to one of the fuel tanks, luckily no crew member was injured. 24 [page break] This was not a great problem it only meant isolating the tank involved, eventually causing a fuel shortage. I said we would not have sufficient fuel to reach base, so Jimmy (our navigator) gave Wally a course for Tangmere in South England where we landed. On checking we found that the aircraft was not too badly damaged around 50 holes of various sizes along the underside of the fuselage and two holes in the side and front window where a piece of shrapnel entered in and out again, as well as cutting a hole in the sleeve of my flying jacket. This I did not know until I was removing my jacket. The following morning we refuelled and returned to base. Operation 14 (Black Thursday) 16th-17th December 1943 Target: Berlin This was supposed to be a very quiet trip as reported at briefing in the late afternoon. The weather was so bad over Europe that no fighters would be able to fly therefore the route would be straight to the capital Berlin, and straight back out – should be a very easy journey, unfortunately things did not turn out this way. As we crossed over the Dutch coast the weather took a dramatic change and instead of cloud and thick fog, conditions were good for flying and the fighters which were supposed to be sitting on the ground were flying on strength and interrupting the bomber stream, and we noted a few running battles and a number of aircraft being shot down. Within a short time it was clear that this was going to be a night to remember. The attacks continued all the way to the target, fortunately we remained clear of any trouble except for seeing the odd fighter going in the opposite direction. There was the usual heavy concentration of searchlights and heavy activity of ack ack over the target creating a heavy barrage. We bombed on target and set on our route for home, this proved uneventful for us although we did see a few fighter battles being continued. The weather by this time was beginning to close in with much more low cloud as a result Wally decided to carry out a gentle decent, reaching the coastline at around 2,000 ft and by this time we knew that there would be trouble with low cloud and fog. We were alerted by base that Ludford was fog-bound and that we should proceed to Driffield, this was when it became very difficult. By now all the crewmembers were active in trying to find any ground markers all with little success, Eric who was still in his front position shouted “pull up Wally – I’ve just seen a barrage balloon”. Jimmy quietly informed us we must be over Hull, I’ll use this as a reference check. By now we had been in the air for 7 1/2 hours and from my calculations our fuel was becoming in short supply. Nobby (wireless operator): “I’m picking up a signal” RT messages from Dishforth and Catfoss but they could see no lights through the fog. Then Catfoss offered to put a light on for us, they, however, realised that we were very low and put the beam aimed parallel to the ground. Presumably, because of the light what Wally and I saw was a farmhouse and buildings, we both acted simultaneously, Wally pulled the control unit full back, I slammed the throttle fully open, luckily I had been flying with the engine booster pumps on so there was no delay in the engines producing full power. As the power emerged we somehow managed to lift the aircraft over the buildings we must have been only feet away from the ground because as the 25 [page break] aircraft pulled up the tail wheel clipped the farm entrance gate, I think that it must be true to say that the beam of light from Catfoss saved our lives. Wally: “How much fuel have we left?” My reply, ”Very little, what should we do?” Jimmy: “Take course for base and try to land there”. We decided to return to base and as luck would have it Eric caught a brief glimpse of something he recognised followed by a few sodium lights of the outer ring lights and as we circled round Wally said “I think I will go round again as I will then have a better chance of landing”. “No” I said, “we do not have the fuel for that”. So with some quick manoeuvring he managed to bring the aircraft back on course. Unfortunately, as I have said previously there are so many airfields in Lincolnshire that the outer perimeter lights cross over each other and this is what happened to us because we were flying so low we managed to pick up the occasional light expecting it still to be the lights for Ludford. Unfortunately we had crossed over and unbeknown to us were travelling on the lights for Wickenby. On having a glimpse of the runway lights Wally turned in and asked for permission to land thinking it was Ludford, Ludford control said yes but we can’t see you. We landed safely part way down the runway the fog was still very thick. Wally to control: “We have landed but fog too thick to see”. Control: “You have not landed where are you?”. Wally and I looked at each other “Wally we have haven’t we?” Then a further voice came on, this is control Wickenby we think you have landed here “who are you?” Wally told them and asked them to give directions. Leave the aircraft where it is, we think it is still on the runway, we will send transport to collect you when we find you. After 20 minutes a crew bus collected us and eventually dropped us off at the mess where we had a meal and it was Wickenby. Wickenby was a wartime base similar to Ludford and with similar living accommodation. We were given a nissen hut where we had a cold bed. As we were extremely tired after our ordeal we had a good sleep. We woke up to a much better day and there on the runway was Lancaster X² just where we abandoned it. I arranged for fuel and a starter trolley to be delivered, prior to refuelling Wally and I started the engines, carried out the pre-flying checks. The engines fired up and ran for 2 to 3 minutes then began spluttering and then stopped. We had run out of fuel, the decision not to go round again was the correct decision. Mac our ground engineer and his staff were there to meet us on our return and gave hand signals in order to park up on our parking point. Mac said: “where have you been” and gave me a big hug. “I think I heard the old girl last night and we came running out hoping to see her, I’m sure it was her she has a noise all of her own, a sweeter, quieter noise”. However, when we checked the time we thought that we must have been mistaken because we were sure that she did not have the fuel to last that time. Then we heard that a Lancaster had crashed on the rising ground hear [sic] Louth so we then went to bed – none of our aircraft landed last night, apparently they are scattered across the east side of England as they are from all the other bases round about. “Is she ok?” Mac asked. “Yes” I say. “You might however check over the engine booster pumps as they were used a lot last night”. Mac: “What’s happened to the cowlings around the tail wheel?” Me: “Oh, give the tail wheel mounting a good inspection Mac”. Mac “Why, what happened, surely Wally didn’t do this on landing, he usually lands on the main wheel first”. Me “No, we hit a gate”. Mac “You what? You hit a gate, why didn’t you open it first!” Mac: “Yes, will check her over and make her ready for tonight if required”. Fortunately the fog again returned with poor visibility, it was 4 days before we flew again and then the operation was Frankfurt. 26 [page break] We found out later that out of the 483 Lancasters that flew that night 25 were lost over Europe from a combination of attack from night fighters, flak and collisions. Another 29 Lancasters from crashes, which occurred due to the thick fog conditions experienced around the airfield on returning home and trying to land. Mac also confessed that he and his engineers were completely fed up with the time they had spent working on the carburetting on the engines, ensuring that the fuel taken up by the engines was the least possible and me insisting that they check the volume over and over again until no more could be done. He now agreed that all the effort made now paid off as if not there was no way that she could have kept flying for that period of time (8 hours 30 minutes) and he said thank you. Each aircraft carried seven crewmembers, 101 Squadron aircraft carried eight crewmembers. On the attached page there is a paragraph which Len Brooks, our rear gunner told his recollection of the night’s events due to the fog. Considering the events of that night in a rational way it is difficult to believe what happened could have happened with a satisfactory ending. We had travelled across Europe direct to Berlin and back escaping enemy fighters, flash lights and enemy ack ack fire without mishaps, only to arrive back in Lincolnshire to find all the eastern side of the UK that the cloud base had almost reached ground level. Base diverted us to Driffield and we found ourselves over Hull and among barrage balloons. We were flying low to try to find some marker which we could relate to such as outer ring lighting or runway lighting, as there were a number of airfields in that area. Nobby our wireless operator said I’m picking up RT messages from Driffield, Dishforth and Catfoss but they could not see us because of the fog. Catfoss offered to put a light up for us realising we were so low, their beam was almost parallel to the ground. How was it that the beam came on at that precise moment? How was it that we acted so quickly with the control column and obtained such a quick response from the engines? The aircraft must have climbed at 40‑45% because as the power took over the tail wheel caught the gate leading into the farmhouse, meaning that the aircraft was at most four feet from ground (travelling at 150 miles per hour), this meant covering the ground at 88 ft per second. The time we had to clear the farmhouse and building was less than one second, how could that happen? We know what Len Brooks said, he felt the power from the engines and looked down and saw the chickens in the farmyard scampering away from their coupes denoting that the aircraft had climbed exceptionally quickly. How did the aircraft pull itself up and over a two storey building in such a short distance? What would the consequences of been had the aircraft not made it? How many people were in the house; farmer’s wife and family? How many children? In fact what was their experience of it, did they sleep through it or were they very scared? We don’t know. How many animals were in the steading, was there a milking herd of 20 to 30 cows? The destruction could have been tremendous, as it was no one was injured as far as we know. We gained some height; Jimmy gave Wally a course back to base. Why was it just at that precise moment that the fog thinned to allow Eric to recognise an object followed by the sodium lights of the base outer circle? Wally saying that he thought he should go round again, I say no we haven’t the fuel, Wally doing an unconventional manoeuvre to bring the aircraft back on course and immediately picking out further lights of the outer ring. However, by this time we had left Ludford outer ring and crossed over onto Wickenby outer ring. We kept on circling round very low to keep lights in sight and luckily spotted the runway lights 27 [page break] and landing part way along the runway thinking we had landed at base surprised to find it was Wickenby we had landed at, then being told to abandon the plane where it was on the runway. Had we been directed to taxi off the runway and round the perimeter track to a conventional parking area I think the engines would have cut out on the way giving all the crew a complete shock. As it was it was only myself and Wally who realised the seriousness of the situation when we started the engines the following morning. As I said earlier this was supposed to be a very uneventful operation, in and out of Europe. The average trip to Berlin was around 7 1/2 hours flying time, fuel 1,750 gallons, this I consider could have been estimated at around 7 hours maximum flying time, 1,700 gallons. I realise that I was always considered better at conserving fuel than most engineers however, how did our aircraft manage to stay airborne for 8 1/2 hours and give out as soon as we touched down. This turned out to be a very exciting but frightening night, how was it that we managed to avoid the various objects we encountered and still managed to bring X² back safely. This was an episode that as a crew we never talked about. Operation 16 24th/25th December Target: Berlin Takeoff time if I remember correctly was early evening in order that we should reach the target before midnight. On board each aircraft was a mix of various bombs, high explosive, incendiaries and delayed timed bombs triggered to explode on Christmas Day. It was an uneventful night for us, keeping our place on route, seeing some ack-ack activity aimed at those aircraft, which strayed off route and seeing the occasional night fighter gun tracers streak across the dark sky. We reached the target on time and Eric was preparing for his bombing run when I noticed that the oil temperature gauge on the outer starboard engine was reading very high. I had to decide the best action, normally on the bombing run I would be on lookout watching for other aircraft approaching us from above or below us and was all the other spare members of crew, it was critical to have maximum look out because of the concentration of aircraft all making for the same point. Many collisions occurred in these situations; damage could also take place by aircraft flying above by dropping their bombs without watching what was below. I said “Wally, feathering starboard outer”. Wally to Eric: “Cancel bombing run, engine feathered, have adjusted revs on other engine”. Jimmy: “Wally take course so-and-so and go round again”. This was a very difficult and dangerous decision to take as our aircraft would be on an entirely different direction from all other aircraft and exposed to enemy fighters. We as a crew had previously discussed what we should do in the event of something like this happening, the conclusion was that after flying all this way to the target our first priority was to put our bombs on the target, so any distraction must be remedied first before the bombing run was made. Hitting the target was the only reason for being there. Eric carried out his bombing and the result was that the bombs scored a direct hit, this was confirmed from a self-operating camera situated in the bomb bay and rolled when the bomb doors were opened. 28 [page break] Afterwards we set off on our return run on three engines but because of limited power instead of holding our 20,000 ft altitude Wally and I decided to make a gradual descent, passing over the enemy coast at 5,000 ft and making our way direct to base on the instruction given by Jimmy our navigator. The engine proved to be suffering from a faulty gauge, this, however, we had no way of knowing and had it been an engine seize up and possibly resulted in an engine fire, we could have been in serious problems being an easy target for enemy fighters. Wally made a very professional landing on three engines, of course he always did make a good landing in the dark, it was during daylight that he always had a few Kangaroo jumps before rolling along the runway. Operation 19 2nd/3rd January 1944 Target: Berlin I would expect that everyone would experience fear on a number of times during their lifetime being frightened is nothing to be ashamed of. Fear can be brought on instantly by such things as an explosion, a fire or such like, then fear can turn to panic. Controlled fear can be felt when one expects that they are likely to die, on the motorway getting caught up in an accident when cars are travelling at speed. Our crew experienced such emotions once when on operations over Berlin when our Lancaster was hit by ack-ack fire, which exploded very close to us and caused severe damage to the fuselage from shrapnel, also causing loss of all communication. After checking all engines and fuel supplies, and assessing for any further damage I realised that Bill’s (our mid-upper gunner) turret was stationary with no signs of movement from him. I knew that something must be wrong so I touched Wally gave the thumbs up and pointed towards the rear. I collected a portable oxygen bottle and on the way through the aircraft I touched Nobby on the arm and signalled him to follow me. True enough Bill was not in his turret, with the light from my torch we found him trying to open the fuselage rear door and in his panic he had no parachute with him. He seemed very strong and determined to leave the aircraft. The only way to prevent this happening was to hit him with the oxygen bottle. We were able to man handle him back to the rest bed. When giving him the oxygen bottle he began sucking it like a baby, we made him comfortable with a blanket then returned to our positions. This episode had taken over 30 minutes at probably the most dangerous period of any operation over the target with lights being shone from the torch and loss of lookout crewmembers (mid-gunner and myself). Luckily the aircraft was not too badly damaged between 40 to 50 holes along the fuselage. In early January Bill reported sick, which meant that we required a mid upper gunner, Dave who had lost his crew was looking to join a new crew, so he joined our crew and flew with us until we completed our tour of operations. 29 [page break] Operation 28 25th-26th February 1944 Target: Augsburg I have little recognition of what happened on this trip, it however was of great importance because this was the first time on any operation that Lancasters had been fitted with 2 x 0.5 guns in the rear turret instead of the 4 x 0.303 guns. Furthermore it was only 101 Squadron who had them. These turrets were made by a small local company from Gainsborough and designed in conjunction with 101 Squadron’s technicians; this gave the Lancaster a much greater firepower. At briefing it was announced that six aircraft, which included our X², were fitted with 0.5 guns and that crews should take the initiative and attack fighters rather than take evasive action. All I remember of what must have been relatively quiet was that the 101 Lancasters that were carrying the new turrets and firing at the fighters, it was the fighters that were taking evasive action and as the fighters were unaware that only a few aircraft were fitted with these much more effective guns. Over the next few operations there was much less fighter activity which was much less effective. On a number of operations as well as dropping window we also dropped leaflets, the leaflets were typed in German and gave information as to how the war was progressing (propaganda information). All operations were usually carried out at twenty thousand feet plus for Lancasters, other types of aircraft would bomb at slightly lower heights because of the thin air at above 10,000 ft. Oxygen had to be taken through masks and also because of the altitude temperatures could drop to as low as -20o, so much so if you touched any metal part of the fuselage with your bare hand it could stick to the metal and because of condensation one had to free the ice from your mask frequently. Operation 29 1st-2nd March 1944 Target: Stuttgart (8 hours 10 minutes) During the 1930s and 40s the winters could be very severe with long periods of frost and snow. March 1944 commenced with heavy and prolonged snowfall resulting in Ludford runway being covered in over 8 ft of snow which had to be cleared before flying could continue. At that time there was no heavy snow clearing equipment available, only the normal tractors that were on site, therefore to move the snow every person on the station not on duty was put on snow clearing. The aircraft standing points were cleared first so that ground crews could operate then the task of clearing the main runway commenced spades and shovels were the tools of the day. Generally I think everyone enjoyed it with plenty of high jinks and laughing, many snowmen being made along the runway edges. Operations were ordered for that night 1st March therefore the runway had to be ready for takeoff by 16:00 hours. It was crucial that 101 Squadron was available because we were the only Squadron operating CIGAR a jamming device which prevented German radar from 30 [page break] contacting their fighters to give them instructions. Bomber Command refused to fly without 101 Squadron’s aircraft. It was determined that the runway would not be fully cleared, however, if four hundred yards were ready aircraft could take off with a light fuel load, fly to the neighbouring airfield Wickenby, fully fuel and bomb up there. Briefing took place mid afternoon; flying was laid on for 16:00 hours. We were the first plane off without trouble, a further two followed, the fourth didn’t make it on the cleared runway part, ploughed into the snow and skidded off the runway closing it. This meant that four of 101 Squadron’s aircraft carrying CIGAR were available. On the operation the aircraft were spread out along the route covering the period of the raid. (ie approximately five minutes apart) Our aircraft was fuelled and bombed-up at Wickenby and took off among the planes from Wickenby. The operation as far as we were concerned was quiet, with few fighters, no troubles. We bombed on time and returned for home crossing the Dutch coast at around 10,000 ft, then continued to base Wickenby, then de-briefed, had breakfast and then to bed. We stayed at Wickenby for two more days before we could return to Ludford. On our return our Squadron Commander told us that we had completed our tour of operations and since the squadron moved to Ludford we were the only crew that had achieved that, so he didn’t want to test our luck any further. The following two days were spent testing the new rear turret with the 2 x .5 guns under various flying conditions, including high level flying at 25,000+ ft and it proved to be equally good under all conditions. Five days later we all went on leave, this was the break up of the crew after which none of us met again, during the war that’s how things happened. Before going on leave I went to see Mac to tell him the situation. “Can’t you stay?” he asked “where are you being posted to?”. “I think I may be posted to Lindholme as an instructor”. “Why can’t you stay here then and instruct here? I will miss you, you’ve taught me more about carburettors and how they work. I know I told you you were a pain in the neck to my chaps, you demanding that they check and monitor the engines performance to obtain maximum fuel savings. I will continue to carry out your instructions and to see if I can help save other crew’s lives as we have just recently experienced on X²”. “If you do a further operation tour, come back here and I will try to look after your aircraft again for you, all the best, good flying”. Operation Highlights I have highlighted only a few of our more exciting operations, many of which have been written about and described by other aircrew presumably because these were the operations which for some reason caught the headlines and probably they were the crew members which survived. It must be remembered, however, that every operation had its dangers. The fact that the aircraft flew over enemy territory was a dangerous place to be, with it being usually in darkness and with anywhere up to 600 aircraft plus on many occasions, all making for the 31 [page break] same target within a time limit of between 30 to 60 minutes alone had its dangers and problems. When I say that we had a quiet trip this usually meant that our crew had no major problems and every member carried out his duties as an individual and as a team member. This did not mean that minor problems did not occur such as the rear turret freezing up causing problems for Len (rear gunner) from severe cold and lack of visibility or wireless operator loosing [sic] contact with base or even Wally and myself with ice forming on the wing edges from travelling through cloud. On one occasion the whole crew suffering because of being caught up in a thunderstorm, the aircraft being thrown about like a toy, falling immediately to 1,000 ft and back up again, something that no one had any control over. Cold was a further concern; the temperature could fall as low as -20 to 30oC below zero. The metal of the aircraft if you touched it with your bare hand, the skin could stick to it therefore gloves had always to be worn. There was warm air circulated throughout the aircraft this was controlled from a duct situated near to the wireless operator’s station and at times should he become very warm would turn it down. Oxygen masks were also worn as above ten thousand feet oxygen was necessary and it was a continual task to have to remove the ice from your mask, as it built up due to the moisture created from breathing. As you can imagine the gunner being isolated from the main cabin area suffered even more. The enemy could also cause a few problems on route. Fighters had an advantage over the heavier, slower bombers and the fact that bombers had four engines creating a fair amount of exhaust flame and light made it easy for the fighters to see us. Generally if a fighter was spotted by the gunners in time it was safest to take evasive action. The action would come say from the rear gunner ‘fighter 3 o’clock approaching’ following ‘dive, dive to port’. The skipper would immediately throw the aircraft into a dive and do a corkscrew manoeuvre, regaining back on his normal course. This generally worked; it was the fighter which was not spotted by the lookouts which caused the problem as they would normally attack from below the rear of the aircraft strafing the fuselage with bullets. Search lights. The normal searchlight could be a problem for aircraft at lower levels and were situated around most towns, cities and industrial sites, however, there was another much more dangerous blue searchlight, much brighter which could penetrate to much higher altitudes and operated in conjunction with anti aircraft guns. Being caught by one of these was an unfortunate experience and usually resulted in severe damage or the loss of the aircraft. We on one occasion suffered this experience, the blue light locked on to us and no matter whatever we did it was impossible, after about three minutes Wally decided to put the aircraft into a controlled dive to loose [sic] height, as we did so a Halifax aircraft which was operating at a much lower height came across our track. The anti aircraft guns operating in conjunction with the searchlight opened up and the Halifax just blew up. We had a lucky escape. As I said some anti aircraft guns operated in conjunction with searchlights, however, the bulk of them were situated around towns and cities and created a heavy barrack in order to keep the bombers from bombing at low levels, the result could be seen and occasionally heard, and on one occasion over Amiens felt. Returning from Modane on a bright moonlit night without warning this small unit of guns opened up and a shell exploded very close to us, fortunately not causing any injuries to the crew. Shrapnel caused damage to the fuel lines causing a leak in the pipe and holes appeared 32 [page break] in the fuselage, and along the wings and side windscreen of the aircraft. We made an emergency landing at Tangmere in South England and on inspection found over 100 various size holes along the length of the fuselage and wings. The piece of shrapnel that hit the windscreen had entered through the starboard side unbeknown to me had ripped through my flying jacket sleeve and gone out through the front window, again, lady luck was with us. 33 [page break] Log Book and Operations Record Book (Battle Orders) Every crew member kept a log book showing every date, time and flying details carried out. I have copied some pages which correspond to copies of the Squadron’s battle orders, referring to operations 14, 15, 16 and 17 as detailed in my log book. 34 [page break] [page from authors logbook] [underlined] TOTAL FLYING HOURS NOVEMBER 101 SDN [/underlined] [underlined] DAY [/underlined] 3 hrs 30 mins [underlined] NIGHT [/underlined] 39 hrs 45 mins [underlined] TOTAL 43 hrs 15 mins [/underlined] DECEMBER 16 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE – 14 OPS – [underlined] BERLIN [/underlined] QUIET TRIP – HEAVY LOSSES – FOG ON RETURN LANDED AT WICKENBY – 8 hrs 30 mins. 20 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE– 15 OPS – [underlined] FRANKFURT [/underlined] MANY FIGHTER FLARES AROUND TARGET AREA – 5 hrs 50 mins. 24 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE– 16 OPS – [underlined] BERLIN [/underlined] REAR TURRET U/S STRB OUTER FEATHERED – 7 hrs 10 mins. 28 – Lanc III X2 – WO EVANS – FE– 17 OPS – [underlined] BERLIN [/underlined] 6 hrs 40 mins. [underlined] TOTAL FLYING HOURS [/underlined] [underlined] DAY [/underlined] 0 hrs 0 mins [underlined] NIGHT [/underlined] 28 hrs 10 mins [underlined] TOTAL 28 hrs 10 mins [/underlined] [underlined] DECEMBER 101 SDN [/underlined] [signature] OC ‘C’ FLT. 35 [page break] [indecipherable page] 36 [page break] [indecipherable page] 37 [page break] [indecipherable page] 38 [page break] [indecipherable page] 39 [page break] 40 [page break] CHAPTER G CHRISTMAS 1943 I always thought of Christmas as a time for giving and receiving, a time of joy and happiness, a time for families to come and meet and join in the happiness of the event. It was of course a time to remember, to consider ones relationship with family, friends and others and how relationships could be improved. Christmas 1943 was different; it was a time of anxiety and many other emotions, anxiety not only for the crewmembers but more so for the folks at home. Before joining the RAF we lived in a small village where everyone knew each other. There was three of us in the forces, my older sister Jean, my brother Sandy and myself, living at home with my mother our two younger sisters Betty and Mary. So quite often my mother would be stopped in the street and asked how one of us was getting along, furthermore she had received a telegram stating that I had not returned from an operation and that further information would be forwarded when received (one must remember that at that time (1943) telephones were a luxury so the only method of communication was by the Post Office. Christmas 1943 was also the first Christmas that we had not all been at home). The ground crews also had similar feelings when waiting for their aircraft to return from an operation and then the relief when they saw the aircraft landing and taxiing in. There was also a period of what today would be known as pressure, then it was just part of the job although some individuals did suffer from depression and for some this ended their flying career. All crew members had to be physically and mentally fit to survive. It was early morning on Christmas Day 1943, we as a crew had just returned from an operation, the target Berlin. After debriefing we arrived for breakfast at around 6:30 hours, the atmosphere in the dining room was best described as noisy as you would expect from 150 young men aged between 19 and 23 years old, until you really looked around and saw one, two even three empty tables then the atmosphere changed to a more sober one. Christmas dinner was being served at 13:00 hours, this gave us time for a few hours sleep before arriving back at the mess around 12:50 hours. The meal was good and all seemed in high spirits. We finished eating and were enjoying a cigarette when the duty officer arrived, he slowly walked up to the bar and turned the Toby Jug sitting there towards the wall, this was our first indication that operations may be on, slowly the mess began to empty as the air crew members began to leave. It was a cold but pleasant afternoon as I hurried along the perimeter road thinking of past Christmases and remembering the simple things, the pink or white sugar mice, an apple and orange possibly a few sweets, we never had many presents, hand knitted socks or gloves, then my thoughts were interrupted by seeing coming towards me a tractor pulling a bomb trolley with a mixed load of bombs on board, and further to my left I could see a fuel bowser topping up a Lancaster. Normally the aircraft were filled with 1,200 to 1,400 gallons of fuel 41 [page break] sufficient for a five or six hour trip, if the trip was going to be longer then the aircraft were topped up. On arrival at our Lancaster X² Mac, our ground engineer, was there standing in front looking at the aircraft, I said ‘”what are you doing?” Thinking he answered “isn’t she beautiful, I don’t want her to fly tonight. I am the happiest sergeant on the Squadron. Before I arrived at Ludford I had been with 101 Squadron for 18 months and during that time I had lost seven aircraft under my control. Since being here and in charge of X² and you as the flight engineer after five months I still have the same aircraft. Do you know how many operations you have flown in X²?” “No I don’t “, I replied. “Eleven and six of which was to the big city Berlin and we are still going strong.” “Let’s go and carry out ourground checks”, I said. We had just finished when Wally our pilot arrived. “I thought I would find you here” he said. “I thought we could carry out a test flight and check out the hydraulics on the undercarriage?” “Yes I have fixed them” said Mac. “Let’s go” said Wally, “coming” I said to Mac. He hesitated then said “I haven’t got a parachute”. “Neither have we” I said. We fired up the engines, taxied out, got the green light from control and were airborne. I then vacated my seat and let Mac have it. As I checked all the fuel and engine gauges etc we climbed to around 300 hundred feet, flew in a south west direction and as we banked to starboard there standing on the ridge was the magnificent building Lincoln Cathedral with the city spread out below it. We were privileged to see it yet also very humbled and it seemed than that what we were doing was right and that this was a ‘just war’ and had to be won. I touched Mac on the shoulder and pointed down. I’m sure he was brushing a tear away. Ten minutes later we had landed with everything ok including the hydraulics as we closed the rear door of the Lancaster X² we hugged each other and I’m sure we all said a short prayer, at least I did. [inserted] [Christmas dinner menu RAF Ludford Magna Sergeants Mess 1943 [/inserted] 42 [page break] Briefing was scheduled for 19:00 hours. All two hundred of us where [sic] there on time and the Group Captain arrived and slipped up onto the platform, the wing commander brought us all to attention. I noticed that the curtains covering the map on the wall stayed closed “I’ll be brief” said the Group Captain, “all flying has been cancelled for tonight because of severe weather conditions over Europe. I also wish to thank you all for the maximum effort and success, which has been put in during the past five months. Good show and good flying from now on. I will let you go to continue your Christmas celebrations, have a good time, good night and god bless”. Mac got his way and X² did not fly on Christmas night. Briefing was scheduled for 19.00 hours and as I said all flying was cancelled, this only lasted for 15 minutes, after which all the members of the 25 crews that would have flown, along with all the other necessary ground staff support teams necessary to service such an operation (all in 350‑400 young people) were now free to do as they wished, however as by now it was around 19.30 the choice was limited, retire to the mess or the local pubs. As we the crew were now making our way back from the briefing room, Norman (our wireless operator) announced that he was visiting the pub to see if they had any beer “Are you coming?” “No” I said “I’ll make my way back to the mess”. Bill (our mid upper gunner) said “I’ll join you for a beer”. The technical section of the squadron was situated on the south side of the main road which ran from west to east through the village from Market Rasen to Louth. The living accommodation and messes were located on the north of the road. On reaching the main road instead of crossing and carrying on up the lane to the mess for some reason I turned right and continued along the main road, as it was extremely dark walking in the centre of the road as this was the safest place. As I continued I heard music and singing coming from the pub on the right everyone seemed to be happy and enjoying themselves, further on and on the left was the other pub ‘The Black Bull’. I could hear footsteps coming and going, but could not recognise the people, here also was the sounds of people enjoying themselves. A little further along the road on the left stood the small church, as I approached I could hear the organ music and the congregation singing carols. I remember thinking if I was thinking of attending church I should have dressed. I was in battle dress and should be in uniform, however to return to the billet and change it would make me too late for the service. I found myself at the church entrance I looked through the entrance hall, I could see a chink of light coming from under the heavy door. I pushed the door open and heard the creaking noise, on entering I stood for a few seconds to allow my eyes to become accustomed to the light, a few members of the congregation hearing the door turned to see who entered, as I moved across to take a place in the pews an elderly gentlemen from the other side came across squeezed me on the shoulder gave me his hymn book “we are on verse three god bless” and returned to his place. The church was fairly full mostly of elderly people man and female with a few children, all were singing and appeared to be enjoying it, the service was not a format which I knew, however I felt good to be involved and somehow very pleased to be there. All those in church appeared to believe in what they were singing and doing and further more believed that all the service people on the base were doing what was right and that they all had their full support that the war was a righteous war and a war that had to be won. At the end of the service I quickly left the church and made my way back along the main road. I was somehow excited so much so that I remember running all the way and turning 43 [page break] right until I reached the mess. There were a number of people sitting around having a drink and/or reading. A colleague was reading the picture post magazine which had an article covering 101 Squadron. When I asked him if I could have a look, he said “I’ll keep it for you”. On the centre two pages was a photo of a Lancaster with staff standing around and on the wings etc, inspecting the photo closely I noticed that it was not a 101 Squadron Lancaster as it did not show the special aerials to work ABC. (The programme had been arranged unfortunately while we (our crew) were on leave and a Lancaster from Wickenby had been used). I checked to see if the rations had come in and found a good selection of cigarettes were available Woodbine, Captain, Players and Gold Flake and there was also some chocolate. The dining room was closed, on a trestle table at the end was a collection of bread, cheese and butter. I took a few rounds of bread and a chunk of cheese and made my way back to the billet, on arrival I found Wally, Eric, and Jimmy were there and they had a good fire going, making the chimney almost red hot. They were sitting reading and asked “where did you get to?” “Church” I said “you should have said I would have come with you” said Eric, “I didn’t know, I brought some bread and cheese for toast if you want it”. “Thank you” said Wally “have a mug of tea, the teapot will still be hot on the stove”. “I called in at the mess they have cigarettes and chocolate in. Only a letter for Bill which I have brought back. He and Norman were going to the pub. Where is Len (our rear gunner)?” “Oh, he has gone to try to hitch a lift home to Grimsby, remember if opps are on tomorrow give him a ring to let him know so that he can return, I have his telephone number” said Wally. “Do you want something to read?” asked Eric. “No” I said, “I think I will turn in and catch up with some sleep”. This 1943 Christmas was at least different from all previous ones and part of my life which I will never forget. The next time we flew was on 30th December and then again the following night on 31st December both operations were to Berlin. Mac continued to service X² and over the next 3 1/2 months we completed a further 13 operations to complete our first tour. We didn’t always bring the aircraft home in the same condition as we started, however, we always brought it back and Mac and his crew always managed to repair it and have it serviced ready for the next trip. We completed our tour in late April 1944 and the crew were all split up and we went our separate ways all as instructors. I joined the staff at Lindholme as a flight engineer instructor. In June D‑Day arrived, we were again temporarily called up as reserved in case the invasion went wrong, fortunately all went well. I was later transferred to Bottesford then Cottesmore and ended up at North Luffenham where by now VE Day had arrived in June 1945. We were again crewed up to join the Tiger Force to operate against Japan. Luckily for us VJ Day came much sooner than expected with the use of the hydrogen bomb being used on Japan, which stopped us from being posted to the Far East. I stayed at North Luffenham until demobbed. Lincoln Cathedral played an important role in our lives as we used to use it as a landmark when returning early in the morning from operations and provided weather conditions were good, when we saw the cathedral we knew we were safely home again. Sadly Lancaster X² only flew two more operations after we finished and was lost over Mailly le Camp, France on the 3rd/4th May 1944. 44 [page break] CHAPTER H HEAVY CONVERSION UNITS INSTRUCTOR LINDHOLME BOTTESFORD COTTESMORE NORTH LUFFENHAM After Operations After completing our tour of operations with 101 Squadron in April 1944 the crew went on leave for around ten days and while on leave I received information informing me to report to Lindholme on such a date. Lindholme was 1656HCU the conversion unit, which I had reported to prior to being crewed up and joining 101 Squadron. Ludford Magna as I had said previously was an airfield specially constructed as a utility base to carry on the war against Germany. All buildings, temporary constructions accommodation nissen huts were situated in small groups situated around the unit site. Nissen hut accommodation for up to eight persons situated in the wilds half a mile from mess, flight units ablution block 20 yards away with washing and shower facilities, no heating (as you can imagine it was very cold in winter). The accommodation had a stove in the centre of the hut with a chimney, which went up through the roof, used coal or anthracite as fuel and required lighting daily. These huts were extremely hot in summer with regular visitors such as field mice, ants and earwigs. In winter they were extremely cold and damp with condensation running down interior sides and dripping on beds etc. Lindholme was a peacetime permanent station which had all the niceties available, good roads comfortable, centrally heated one-person accommodation with all mod cons including dining room with waitress service. This to me was the biggest difference between Ludford and Lindholme. Lindholme then was a conversion unit where pilots and crews had completed their initial training on smaller aircraft then upgraded to the heavy, four engine bombers such as Halifax and Lancaster. Lindholme trained Lancaster crews; it was here where additional crewmembers such as gunners and flight engineers joined in. Having completed a successful tour of operations my role now was to introduce flight engineers who had completed their year long course, at possibly Blackpool and St Annes’s as up to this time these trainees had only briefly seen the interior of a Lancaster, far less done any flying. 45 [page break] Unfortunately because of the shortage of Lancaster bombers arriving to the squadron, the conversion units such as Lindholme were still using Halifaxs [sic], this did not cause too much of a problem for the other six members of the crew (except the engineers) as it was a heavy bomber and the handling regarding flying and landing was similar to the Lancaster giving the pilot the experience of flying a large, heavy plane. The engineer’s role was the same on all heavy bombers so the experience gained was still valid and it still gave him the necessary confidence. The difference being some of the instruments and dials on the Halifax were in different positions to that of a Lancaster. The crews would have a period of familiarisation on reaching the squadron before finally carrying out operations. Life was so much more comfortable working on a base with all mod cons as expected for the 1940s. My role along with others was to aid the trainee engineers to familiarise themselves with the aircraft inside and out, and when flying with their new crew, introduce the engineer to his role such as to the large number of switches and dials on the main panel and also the instruments on the engineer’s panel. One of the main tasks was how to change flying on the various fuel tanks safely, the other how to feather an engine if required without causing any problems, how they as a person fitted in with the other crew members. Therefore while the pilot was under instruction with a pilot instructor mainly on what we called circuits and bumps, which was taking off, flying around and landing again. I would also fly and show the engineer and make sure he was confident and safe in his execution of his duties. The time varied depending on how quickly the pilot took to prove himself capable and the instructor pilot was satisfied that he could safely fly and land such a plane, this could take anything from a few hours to many hours. I used the experience, which I had gained over the past year of flying many hours in different conditions to make sure that these young operators had a better chance of completing a successful tour than I had. I tried to emphasise on them the need to be fully committed to their job of making sure they knew their role and capable of carrying out all the safety checks which should be carried out by themselves even although someone has said that they have done so, that they used the engines efficiently and monitored the fuel available as economically as possible. I had prepared a schedule, which if used in conjunction with the gauges and filled in every fifteen minutes in flight or so gave instant information if any problem had or were occurring to the fuel position, when action could be taken. Lindholme being a permanent station was well equipped and had space available for each crew members to have their own section huts which proved most usual [sic] and I spent a good part of my time being available to talk with these trainee engineers, discussing any problems or whatever. In any month I spent on average around 50 hours in actual flying time either day or night flying. This was made up of flying with possibly 10 different pilots on 26 to 30 different flights. The flights were generally around the airfield at fairly low altitude, up to two hundred feet carrying out circuits and landings with pilot, instructor and conversion crews. We therefore did not carry parachutes; this also gave the trainee crews a little more confidence to think that we had confidence in them. 46 [page break] In June 1944 two days after D-Day I attended an instructors course at St Albans, South Wales lasting for four weeks, which proved most instructive, enjoyable and created confidence with ample time for self expression. After that I took the opportunity to attend any other courses, which became available such as a course on jet engines – something for the future, update course on the improved Merlin engines coming into service and a short course on Stromberg carburettors. The RAF at this time was looking to the future and on the levels and quality of staff they were likely to require once the war ended, but with the peace still to be kept for years on. At present most if not all of their engineers and a station or base engineer were all from senior ground staff, so when I was asked if I would wish to embark on such a course (the course was quite complex covering all aspects of engineering ground and in flight) I said I would. After quite a lot of time on reading (time which I had) I eventually sat the paper and was very happy with the results 89% success, this was of course only part of the paper an oral examination was also required which up until I was released from the RAF I had not taken, however, these showed on my records. 1668 Heavy Conversion Unit, Bottesford After leaving 101 Squadron I spent a short period at Lindholme as a Flight Engineer Instructor before moving to Bottesford. Bottesford was another war time base similar to Ludford Magna and from where Lancasters also flew, however, in early 1944 it had become surplus to requirements. The living accommodation instead of being Nissen huts were constructed of fabricated wooden framed units. Being available it was used as a holding base for American troops waiting for D Day resulting in the accommodation being left in a dreadful state. During August 1944 1668 Heavy Conversion Unit took the base over and myself and few others were in the advance party. On arrival we found it difficult to find accommodation suitable to live in however, after a few days of hard work managed to make progress with repairs. Among the early arrivals were two air gunners both of whom had completed their tour of operations. Jock on Wellingtons and Jack on Lancasters. The three of us became really good friends for all the time we were on the base. In fact, Jack is still a good friend, he now lives in North Cirney Nr Cirencester and we have a card from him each Christmas. The base was situated midway between Newark and Grantham on the left, half a mile off the main A1 road, walking or cycling were the only methods of transport for getting around the base or for travelling further afield. We had been at Bottesford for just over a week when this night the three of us decided to have a ride around, on reaching the main road instead of turning left for Long Bennington and Newark we turned right towards Grantham. After cycling along the A1 road for about three miles we came across a signpost, which read Marston and Dry Doddington so we decided to go left and see where the lane would take us. After a mile we came upon a nice looking pub on the corner of the crossroads called the Thorold Arms where we decided to call and have a beer this being Friday evening. The pub was open, furthermore this was the first time that I had entered a pub since I joined 101 Squadron, as I had promised myself that so long as I was flying on operations I would not have a drink. 47 [page break] Training at Bottesford got under way relatively soon and by early September crews for conversion to Lancasters were arriving in number. The routine was very similar to that at Lindholme. Crews arrived without any experience of the Lancaster and it was our role as instructors to train the flight engineers to a standard where he was competent and safe to act on his own, and to pass on my experience which would make him feel more confident, while other staff members were doing the same for the pilots and the other members of the crew. Bottesford as I said previously was a base built around 1942 to a standard sufficient to allow Bomber Command to carry the war to the enemy, where heavy bombers such as the Lancaster could operate from. Carrying a bomb load to most destinations necessary and to cause severe damage to their war effort. From the staff viewpoint it was a complete change from the comfort offered by a peacetime base with all the mod cons, even including waitress service in the dining halls. Bottesford was however a very happy unit where, so long as the training and flying was carried out on time to a very high standard, all was well. It was becoming clear that with D Day over with the Allied Troops now moving across Europe as expected and on course, that victory in Europe was only a matter of time with the need for heavy bomber operations becoming limited. This meant that the training for crews could be relaxed and extended, therefore to ensure the trainee flight engineers interest and enthusiasm was kept alive. Two other instructors and myself introduced a short course on engine maintenance, this course lasted three weeks, the purpose of which was to strip down an engine completely, then reassemble it so that it would fire up and run. We had available to us a Lancaster, which had recently run off the runway on landing and was declared not airworthy. The four Merlin engines were still in good condition; this meant that with four engines and four trainees working on each we could entertain sixteen students. The course proved a great success and it was felt that all those involved had afterwards a better understanding of the engines, which could possibly save their lives in the future. As the weeks passed three of us, Jock, Jack and myself, had more free time and when on an evening we decided to leave camp we usually ended up at the Thorold Arms. By now we knew many of the locals as well as the family and were being brought into the evening events, such as playing darts. There were a number of really good dart players and eventually we, along with Sylvia, also became an excellent partnership. Five months on. Christmas 1944 was a completely different Christmas to that of 1943, by now Sylvia and myself were seeing quite a lot of each other and I was still on duty over Christmas, I was asked to spend Christmas day with the family, we had a lovely time. A few days later I was on leave and travelled north to spend New Year with my family in Aberdour. Our friendship blossomed and we were spending more and more time together and with Sylvia’s family and friends. Sylvia had a brother and three sisters; Roy was the oldest followed by Eileen then Sylvia, with Gert and Brenda the two younger sisters. Roy was also in the RAF on air-sea rescue and spent most of his time overseas. Eileen was on munitions working in Grantham; Sylvia also worked in Grantham in ladies hosiery. Gert worked in a bakery with Brenda still at school. In the evenings when the pub was open Sylvia helped serve in the bar with her father and mother Gert usually at weekends. During early 1945 flying at the base continued smoothly 48 [page break] and generally without incident. We had one scary incident during night flying practise, an enemy light bomber managed to evade the radar controls and came in along the runway following one of the Lancasters and dropped cluster bombs along the length of the runway. This did cause some excitement as these bombs could explode from the vibration of the landing aircraft. Fortunately the runway was cleared without any injuries. The other excitement was when one of the Lancasters, which we had just received from squadron required an air test to check its airworthiness before being put to use as a training aircraft. One of the staff pilots and myself as engineer was asked to carry out the test which we did, doing all the usual flying and checking the various instruments and controls. We decided to put it in a downward power dive, at first all was fine and the controls responded perfectly then it happened the port outer propeller began speeding up. No matter what we tried it continued to increase then it disappeared, the two on the inner engines seemed all right, the propeller in the starboard reached well above the normal speed but stayed in place. We quickly reduced our speed and dive, and made a quick return to base and landed on two engines, the aircraft did not pass its airworthy test. We found out later that it was a fault with the balance plates on the, then, new four paddle bladed propellers. I, by now, had spent eight months as an instructor resting from the pressures of flying on operations and I knew that in the near future it may be necessary to do a further thirty operations, either across Europe or possibly against Japan. A few of us were thinking along the same lines and discussing the possibilities with others of forming crews. There were two staff pilots on the base who were seriously thinking to the future, with whom I would have been happy to fly with and to this end we took every opportunity of carrying out test flights and then engaging in some low flying, which we expected would be necessary for the future especially if the enemy were the Japanese. I increased my link training and spent considerable amounts of time keeping fit and up-to-date on all aspects of flying which could be beneficial to our survival. There was suggestion floating around that a new Tiger Force was being formed, which was likely to operate against Japan. The river Trent gave an excellent corridor to practise low flying as there was at that time no obstacles such as power lines, telephone lines or high buildings to restrict flying. The river banks were relatively high with a river width in excess of 130 ft where the Lancaster wingspan was 101 ft and could easily be tucked in below the level of the banks, great flying, great excitement and very satisfying. The war in Europe was progressing well, the need for heavy bombers was becoming less and with now limited targets. In mid April a few of us were informed that it was almost 12 months since we last flew on operations and it would now be necessary to do a further tour, more information would be available shortly. On 8th May 1945 the Prime Minister, Sir Winston Churchill, announced the termination of the war in Europe to the whole country and his speech was broadcast over the station Tannoy system at 3pm. The afternoon was then devoted to sports activities and there were parties in all messes during the evening. I was not on base, this was the date selected on which I was to be presented with my DFM at Buckingham Palace by King George VI. My mum and Aunty Kate travelled down from Edinburgh on the overnight train in the early hours of the morning; I joined the train at Grantham. As usual it was standing room only so I met up with my mum and Aunty on the platform at Kings Cross station. If I remember correctly the investitures commenced at 49 [page break] 11am so we had time for breakfast then made our way to the palace. There were many RAF personnel there as well as family members to watch the ceremony and see their relatives presented with their medals. We were all greeted on arrival and then informed of the procedure. The King seemed very thin and poorly, dressed in an Admiral’s Naval uniform. After shaking hands with him and him pinning the medal on my uniform he asked me which squadron I flew with. I told him 101 Squadron, he replied “One of the elite I believe, good flying”. We were out of the palace by 1:30pm, by this time the news that the war in Europe was over was known and London was beginning to fill up with people. Everyone was in party mood, singing and dancing or just walking around. London had been under blackout conditions since the start of the war in September 1939. Today things were different all the dark days were over; the people of London were showing their joy. Every light possible, which could be lit, was lit and the streets looked most inviting, it was an amazing sight. My mother and Aunt Kate were booked to stay the night in London so I saw them to their hotel then I made my way back through the crowds to Kings Cross and caught the train back to Grantham. What a day to be in London, VE Day the 8th May 1945 celebrating the end of the war in Europe. There was a real sense of relief and everyone was there to have a good time and to party. The train was again packed, mainly with service personnel making their way home on leave. I arrived at Grantham around 5pm and from the station phoned the Thorold Arms expecting to speak to Sylvia. She and Eileen had gone to the church service and not yet returned so it was Sylvia’s dad that answered, he said he would tell Sylvia on their return that I had arrived in Grantham. It was agreed that Sylvia would come and meet me cycling on one bicycle and pushing the second for me to ride back to Marston, however, on her travelling along the A1 road towards Grantham she met a person she knew cycling from Grantham. She stopped and asked him if he had seen an airman walking and he said no. Previously to this an RAF vehicle had passed Sylvia with RAF personnel on board, thinking that I had thumbed a lift and that I would be dropped off at the road end leading to Marston she decided to turn back. As I was not waiting at the road end she then thought that I must have decided to go back to Bottesford, collect my own bicycle and return to Marston later. Sometime later Gert happened to look out of the window at the Thorold Arms and shouted to Sylvia “Jock is coming down the road”. Sylvia, thinking she was having her on didn’t believe her until she herself looked out the window. My other pals Jock and Jack had already arrived and all including the locals were having a great time. As the evening progressed and the drink continued to flow a game started where the aim was to collect as many possible pieces of other peoples [sic] ties by cutting off the ends, this was all taken in good fun until one person who had just been given a new tie for his birthday, that day, by his wife and she was not amused at seeing it being cut to pieces. The end of the war in Europe sealed the fate of most of the war time built heavy bomber bases, they had completed their usefulness for which they were built, that in giving Bomber Command the opportunity required to take the war to the enemy, which they had accomplished very successfully. Food on the stations was very good with a real selection most of the time. Sundays was the time when the menu suffered as most of the catering staff had time off and tea was usually laid out to help yourself, mostly cheese, bread and butter, and possibly a few cakes. This possibly was the reason why on Mondays the sweet was often bread and butter pudding, something I didn’t like then and even now when on a menu I still shy away from. 50 [page break] This was the time that Petula Clarke was often on the radio, in fact every lunch time she recorded a song especially for RAF Conversion Unit 1668. Bottesford was no exception for within six weeks the complete Conversion Unit was closed down and I, along with others, moved to new surroundings to the peacetime base of Cottesmore where all the staff enjoyed the luxuries of a permanent built unit. Working conditions within the base were very relaxed, with all enjoying a five day week when most weekends were free unless on duty. Flying hours, however, as far as I was concerned still reached between 33 to 44 hours each month. During June onwards, now that the war was over in Europe, it was still most important that the peoples of Europe, friends as well as enemy, that Britain controlled the airspace and continued to show this by having continued aircraft flying in the skies around. Certain trips were carried out in order to show ground staff, who had carried out such an excellent job in sometimes terrible conditions to keep the bases and aircraft serviceable along the last five years the opportunity to see for themselves what conditions across Europe looked like now. These trips were given various names: the Ruhr Express, Cooks Tour, Happy Valley Express, each lasted five to six hours flying time where up to 12 to 15 personnel were on board plus the crew of four. I, as Flight Engineer, was on a good number of such trips. They were enjoyed by most and showed the devastation which had occurred to many of the towns and cities across Europe, in vast areas which had received attention from bombing by the RAF followed by the destruction caused by the Armies fighting their way to Berlin since D Day. The destruction was terrible with many large areas just a pile of rubble or shells of buildings still standing. The thing which impressed me most was the number of churches and round towers such as commercial chimneys which still stood. Such a trip would cover from a base to Ijmunden, Amsterdam, Arnhem, Nijmegen, Wesell Dortmund, Essen, Duisburg, Düsseldorf then back to base. Or base to Cologne, Bonn, Aachem Rotterdam then home. Cottesmore Cottesmore was situated between Grantham and Stamford, four miles west of the A1 road near the village of Ashwell and six miles north west of Oakham, so our move was only a few minutes flying time. There was much movement between stations, which gave the opportunity of visiting different locations which we heard about but not visited, such as Drem in East Lothian, Ternhill and Shawbury in Shropshire, and many others which helped to make life more enjoyable. Being stationed close to Stamford and the main road north it wasn’t difficult to hitch a ride or at worst catch a bus or train to Grantham. Our stay at Cottesmore was fairly short lived; we then moved on to North Luffenham another of the pre war built stations with all the usual mod cons. North Luffenham is situated south west of Stamford, one mile off the A6121 road. Before leaving Cottesmore I had confirmation that we were crewed up and to expect instructions shortly regarding a further tour of operations in the Far East but before that certain procedures would have to be carried out, such as doctors reports and certain jabs given. However, six weeks on and we were still waiting. 51 [page break] The war against Japan was expected to last for some considerable time, however, the introduction of the Atom Bomb by the Americans and the use of them by the American Air Force brought the Japanese war to a very quick end. We had at the time just received our preliminary dates and instructions for flying out to the Far East. This announcement that the Japanese had surrendered cancelled this and we missed the opportunity of joining the Tiger Force. The use of the Atomic Bomb on two Japanese cities seemed, and was, a terrible thing to do and caused terrible casualties among the Japanese citizens in these two cities. However, if it had been necessary for US troops to land and fight their way through all the various islands the casualty list was estimated that it could have been one million plus service people. North Luffenham The war in both Europe and Japan was over which meant that working conditions at North Luffenham changed as from now. There was less requirement for further training of Lancaster crews. There were a large number of service men and women in all three services hoping and wanting to get back to Civvie Street as soon as possible. The government also had a problem in that across the country there were not the organisations or jobs available to employ all those excess to requirements service personnel. Therefore a delaying action was in place to slow down the release. Lancasters were of course used for various operations such as dropping food supplies to the people of Belgium and Germany and for bringing home prisoners of war from Germany and elsewhere and from bringing to the UK survivors from the torture camps. The top chiefs of all three services were of course now considering the future of the armed forces. The Air Force was no different, we had won the war but not the peace, the peace may be a lot more difficult and to that end the Air Force was trying to assess and ensure whatever happened they had sufficient of high quality personnel to carry out this purpose. Therefore as personnel were being demobbed, if they should have certain qualities they were being given the opportunity to stay on by being offered certain incentives. While at Luffenham I took the opportunity of attending as many courses as possible, improving my knowledge and information regarding the services and of course continuing to add to my flying hours, something I enjoyed doing. Our job on the unit was similar to any other staff member, flying still took priority, other duties such as Duty Officer and such like was also now part of our programme. I recall an interview which I had with the Group Captain Section Leader arrived at the flight office and said “Jock, the Wing Commander wants to see you”. “What have I done?” “Nothing, it’s good news, make your way to his office for 11am.” “I’m flying at 10 o’clock”. “Ok, after that will do”. I arrived at his office next day around 9.55 am, his secretary showed me into his office. I saluted, he said “Good, come and sit down” then the interview went something like this: “I have been looking over your record and I see that you have carried out a lot of flying, almost 2000 hours. There are not many people who can live up to that, you must enjoy flying?” “Yes I do”. “I also see that you have attained a pass, in fact an extremely high pass on the Chief Ground Engineer course, unusual for aircrew even although you are a Flight Engineer”. 52 [page break] “Your flight commander also told me you were highly respected and thought of at Cottesmore because of your work with Engine Service course. You would seem to be going back to Civvie Street?” “Yes sir”. “Do you want that?” “Possibly”. “Even with all your exceptional work the war is over so I can’t recommend you for a medal however, what I can offer you – you know that the Air Force is looking for people like yourself for its future success – therefore the offer I am prepared to put to you is stay on in the Air Force as a Chief Ground Engineer with Flying Officer on entry (permanent) with good promotional opportunities to at least Flight Lieutenant or even Squadron Leader. Think carefully about it, don’t make your mind up now, come and see me in one week’s time.” The unit continued flying and with training. The war being over the RAF was keen to show off their aircraft such as the Spitfire and the Lancaster, which had been so brilliant during the war, to the general public so a number of open days throughout the UK were arranged whereby the public could come along and see over all these war time aircraft. These days proved very popular. To show off the Lancaster we landed at the base involved, stayed for four to five hours opening the Lancasters up and allowing people to enter by the rear door, make their way up through the fuselage past the pilots positions and exit through the flaps in the bomb aimers compartment, at the front of the aircraft reaching the ground by ladder. Two of the open days I remember going to were Finningly [sic] and Haverford West. During my time in the RAF I only met up with my sister Jean on one occasion and that was when I was at St Athans in South Wales, she was stationed at Bridge End and we managed to meet for an hour or two, where we met I cannot recall. My brother Sandy was stationed at Swinderby for most of his time in the RAF as a fitter servicing Lancasters, and even although we were relatively closely stationed to each other we never once met up and even when I occasionally landed at Swinderby we never managed to get together. Of course these plans were always last minute arrangements and we might only be there for an hour or so before taking off again. After two weeks I made a further appointment to meet the Group Captain and told him that after serious consideration that I had decided to leave the RAF and return to Civvie Street. I believe that he was disappointed, he wished me success in whatever I decided to do, we shook hands and I left his office. I was demobbed on 10th September 1946 at Uxbridge then travelled north to Stamford, Sylvia had earlier moved to Stamford to further her career as a shop buyer, by working in a much larger ladies fashion store, travelling to Stamford on a Sunday evening, returning home in the Saturday evening. This meant that we saw more of each other on my time off. The other opportunity that was open to me on my demob, as I had over a 1000 flying hours, was to join BOAC. Unfortunately the base was Australia and the airline travelled between Australia and Ceylon. Also available because I had A‑level passes on RAF teaching courses gave me the opportunity to train as a technical course teacher. Both of which I declined and decided to return to Civvie Street and continue in forestry, which was always my first choice and as my future notes will show. 53 [page break] 54 [page break] CHAPTER I ADVANCES IN TECHNOLOGY WHAT IF? Advances in Technology Most of the technology was designed to combat the increasingly efficient enemy night fighter’s control system, in July 1943 window was used for the first time. Window was made up of thin strips of aluminium foil (approximately 9" long) packed in bundles of approx 100. It was the bomb aimer’s responsibility to drop these down a small chute filled in the front compartment every 15 minutes along route. With all other aircraft doing the same, the concentration played havoc with the enemy’s ground and air radar sets, however, it could not deter the enemy fighter threat for a long period of time, as the Germans managed to overcome this problem. During D-Day window was used with great success in fooling the Germans that a second landing area further east along the coast was to happen. 101 Squadron completely serviced this operation by dropping window, continually moving across the channel for 48 hours, which meant that German defence forces were stretched along the French coastline rather than being able to concentrate on the D-Day landing site. By the time they realised their mistake the landing had a strong hold. Other new aids such as RDF (Radar Direction Finding) known as Monica was trialled by 101 Squadron, but was short lived simply because the enemy night fighter crews became efficient at tuning into the signals omitted by Monica. In July 1943 another new system known as Ground Cigar was operating twenty-four hours a day from a site on the Suffolk coast, jamming the whole of the 38‑42 MHZ band known to be used by the German fighters. It became obvious to the boffins that to be really efficient the system needed to be airborne, it was envisaged that a single Bomber Command squadron should be allocated the new RLM role and would operate within the main part of the bomber stream. This highly responsible task was given to 101 Squadron, the new system was known as ABC or Airborne Cigar. The ABC required an additional crewmember known as a Special Duties Operator; the area behind the main spar normally occupied by the aircraft emergency couch was converted to accommodate the new equipment. Externally, 7 ft long aerials were fitted to the aircraft, two along the spine and the third under the forward fuselage. The special duty operators were German speaking and became the eighth crewmember in 101 Squadron crews. The role was to jam the radio transmissions made by the German night fighters ground based controllers. ABC equipment consisted of a panoramic receiver and three transmitters; the receiver could pick up all 24 different frequencies being used by the crystal controlled VHF sets. Its eight crystals each covered three wavebands used by the Germans’ night fighter 55 [page break] crews to receive the necessary information about the bomber stream location. Once the operators were able to use their German language skills to find the active controller frequency he put down a key connected to one of his transmitters, which broadcast engine noise on that frequency effectively jamming it over a range of around 50 miles. He repeated the process until he had his three transmitters effectively jamming three German frequencies. In theory, eight of the 101 Squadron Lancasters could cover all 24 frequencies in use during the night. This equipment was quite weighty therefore so-called unnecessary equipment such as the steel plates behind the pilot’s head and the steel door behind the front compartment were removed to counter the weight increase. ABC was very effective in jamming the German night fighter’s ability to connect quickly with the main bomber stream. The other downside was when the 101 Lancasters specials were operating their equipment these aircraft could be readily picked up by German night fighters and searchlights. With the squadron suffering much heavier losses than any other squadron in Bomber Command. There was a plaque in the middle of Ludford Magna remembering the 101 sacrifice, it read: [border] 101 Squadron Lancasters based at Ludford Magna from June 1943 with highly secret ABC radio and 8 man crews flew on every major Bomber Command mission suffering the highest losses of any squadron in World War II [/border] Ludford Magna was also selected as one of the first airfields in the group to have FIDO fitted. FIDO (Fog Investigation and Dispersal Operation) this was justified because of 101 Squadron’s key role within Bomber Command. The equipment consisted of two pipelines running along the edge of each side of the main runway with perforated holes in the pipes. In extremely foggy conditions when aircraft were due to land petrol was forced along the pipes which was then set alight, this helped clear the fog sufficiently to allow aircraft to land safely. One of the disadvantages being should an aircraft with fuel leaking or swerving off the runway an explosion could occur causing loss of aircraft. This equipment came into us in January 1944. The standard rear turret fitted to the Lancaster was the Fraser Nash with four 0.303" (rifle calibre) machine guns, which were always thought to be of poor quality in terms of armament. A new turret was built by Rose Brothers of Gainsborough after much discussion with personnel from 101 Squadron. The new turret was easy to control, had more room for the gunner and better vision. Six aircraft from 101 Squadron were the first to receive the new turret. Our aircraft X² was one of the six (2 x 0.5 calibre). 56 [page break] On 25th/26th February 1944 when we visited Augsburg, operation 28, Len our rear gunner was excited about the possibility of using them against a German fighter and witnessing what effect it would have. 1943‑44 was an excellent period to join 101 Squadron. The squadron had just moved to a new base at Ludford Magna near Louth, Lincolnshire and was well placed to carry the war to the enemy. A highly rated squadron within 1 group, a squadron which was given every opportunity to prove itself as one of the best and we were so lucky to be part of it. The squadron was involved in all that was happening. New equipment was becoming on stream such as ‘Window’, ABC, upgraded Lancasters, FIDO and the introduction of the more superior rear turret. As days and weeks passed our crew was becoming the most experienced so as a crew were very much involved, we flew on the operation when Window was first used. We were also on the operation ABC was first introduced into Bomber Command and our aircraft X² was one of the six aircraft fitted with the new turrets. These were exciting times, sometimes frightening, anxious and tiring, however, as a crew we worked as a team. We were loyal to each other, dedicated in what we were doing and hence very satisfied with the results we achieved. On completing our tour of operations we were the only crew that had completed a tour of operations since the squadron moved to Ludford Magna. Statistics showed that if Lancasters lasted more than five operations they were exceptional. All who served in the forces have memories, some good, some not so good. My memories of being in the RAF are of being good and exciting times not to be missed. My memories of being part of 101 Squadron are also of exciting times, with plenty of different experiences, most when flying. Some exciting, some frightening, one or two horrific, others best forgotten, however, a part of life which I am proud to have been part of and on the whole really enjoyed. On 12th June 1944 I received confirmation that I had been awarded the DFM. What if? The situation seemed very strange, here was seven or eight young men from various backgrounds and from different areas of the United Kingdom, who had for the best part of a year lived and dined together. Worked as a close team under very difficult and dangerous conditions and after completing a tour of operations went on leave a few days later, moved from base on to other jobs and from then until the end of the war had no further contact with each other. In fact until recent years I still had no contact. It was 2001 when I met up with Norman our wireless operator and then years after that out special operator Ken. What if when I joined 101 Squadron Wally Evans, our pilot, had not insisted that I was his engineer and I had joined A H Evans’ crew as their engineer? A H Evans’ crew were lost on their third operation. What if when our Lancaster was caught by the blue searchlights over Germany, if the Halifax which drifted a few thousand feet below us into the path of the searchlight at that split second and received the full impact of the guns had not done so? We would be just another statistic. 57 [page break] What if when over Amiens we received only comparatively slight damage from exploding shrapnel which passed through the window, just caught my flying jacket sleeve and then went out through the windscreen? Had I been standing three inches to the right the result could have been very different. What if on returning to base from operations over Berlin on 16th December 1943, when caught up in thick fog and was diverted, if the beam light put up by Catfoss had not been at that precise moment when we were flying at zero feet from the ground we would have ploughed into the farm house. Another aircraft lost on operations. Or when on reaching base Wally had not accepted my advice and decided to go round again on another circuit before landing, we would have crashed due to shortage of fuel. What if I had decided to accept my commission and stay in the RAF as a Station Engineer probably reaching rank of Squadron Leader or had joined BOAC as a flight engineer possibly based in Sidney Australia, or had taken up the opportunity to become a teacher teaching technical subjects? Life would have been so different, however, I believe I made the correct decision, in fact I know I did. This however is for another time to discuss. 58 [page break] CHAPTER J AIRCREW BOMBER COMMAND WARTIME BOMBER SQUADRONS BOMBING OF BERLIN A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A SQUADRON CLOTHING WORN ON OPERATIONS BY OUR CREW CONTACT MADE WITH TWO CREW MEMBERS PLUS INFORMATION ON OTHERS Aircrew Bomber Command A typical description of a bomber crew at the time was provided by the ministry publication entitled Bomber Command. The men of Bomber Command are appointed to fulfil a special mission. Their life is not that of other men, not even those in the other branches of the service. It’s very physical conditions are different for them now; a day is much of the night, as much of the day is a time for sleep and repose. Discipline is constant yet flexible. Triumph and disaster are met with and vanquished together. Air Marshall Arthur Harris, Air Officer Commanding in Chief Bomber Command 20th February 1992. He was known as Butch, the opinion of him varied in accordance with our losses, if they were heavy then his popularity (if that was the right word) suffered. You must remember that most aircrews never saw him when he visited Ludford, I thought he was stone faced, severe and even cynical over our effort. I disagree with those who dubbed him arrogant – he certainly was not. Nevertheless, if his crews did not see enough of him to love him they certainly appreciated what he was doing for them, he gave his command a much-needed sense of purpose. Up to the end of 1941 many people tended to regard strategic bombing as little more than a wasteful sideshow. It was Harris who proclaimed loud and long 59 [page break] that Bomber Command was vital to the war effort and that his crews should be given the best of everything, because their efforts would be decisive in the final outcome. After a successful raid the C‑in‑C would send a signal to the squadron saying good show keep it up this meant a great deal to men who knew that they stood a less than even chance of surviving a tour of operations. Harris was also a great innovator, he called for better navigation and bombing aids, better lit flare paths and increased safety conditions on take offs and landings. GEC was one of the aids which he had pressured for which enabled the navigator to plot his position relative to a ground station, this turned navigator from an art into a science. Wartime Bomber Squadrons People of the younger generation can get the impression that Bomber Command was one big, happy family. This was not so, squadrons were very much individual entities, we didn’t mix much with other squadrons and they assumed the character and charisma of the people who were on the squadron at the time. As a result, few outsiders will ever appreciate what it was really like to serve on a bomber squadron unit. Not wishing to dwell on the dark side of squadron life I was twenty years old at the time, life was for living, we got on with the job. The higher direction of the war was for the older types – 25 years old and above. They were enjoyable days and of course we always expected to come back, suffice to say therefore that at least 277 aircraft were lost or went missing from 101 Squadron between July 1943 and 1945 and that the squadron lost 1094 crew members killed in action and 178 taken prisoner of war. This was the highest casualty rate of any RAF squadron in World War 2. Bombing of Berlin It is difficult for ordinary citizens to visualise the effect of concentrated aerial bombardment. Un Sangro front in Italy, often spoken of as the biggest land bombardment of the war, 1400 tons of shells came down in eight hours. Remember the front was many miles in length and mostly open country yet they smashed the German defence and prisoners spoke of the astounding paralysing effect of these heavy bombardments. Now compare the figures of the air assault, take as an instance only one raid in January 1944, 7300 tons of bombs went down on Berlin in 30 minutes. Remember too that the bombs fell into built up areas on a shorter front than a land attack. Remember too that tonnage for tonnage a bomb contains a much higher explosive charge than a shell. No city, no defence system could stand up to such attack for long delivered as Bomber Command was doing. 60 [page break] War time Bomber Station – a normal day’s work load The total number of personnel on the stations was around 2,500 including officers, male and female personnel. The station was equipped to perform as an individual unit like a small town with runways of sufficient length so that the aircraft could take off and land from where to attack the enemy. It carried sufficient supplies of food, stocks of all the necessary maintenance supplies such as aircraft parts, tyres, turrets, engines and down to all the other small items like rivets screws everything necessary to keep the aircraft flying. In every hour of the day people were working and with 2,500 staff on board the station could exist from the rest of the country for weeks. Time meant very little to staff and many would not know which day in the week it was or which date in the month it was. Sundays were just another working day. The work was continuous, outside interests were possibly intentionally forgotten, all friends and family had to remain outside the airfield boundaries. The best way of describing a normal working day is by eight am the bomb handling crews would already be hard at work sorting out the various bombs, such as the 4,000 lb (cookies) mounting them onto low engine driven trolleys, others would be packing the incendiaries into special cases, similarly all the other bombs likely to be used on operations. All these would be loaded onto special transports and dispatched around the airfield to the Lancasters which would be flying later that day if operations were on. This operation would carry on well into the afternoon. Other staff would be doing the same with cartridges, feeding thousands of them into their ammunition belts and distributing them to the guns in the aircraft. Other airfield staff would be filling the fuel bowsers which held 2,500 gallons of petrol and filling up the Lancaster fuel tanks which held 2,140 gallons. The fill up amount would depend on the time of the operation (Lancaster used an average of 200 gallons per hour). At the dispersal points ground crews would be carrying out their inspections on the aircraft under their control, engine fitters would be carrying checks on engine’s plugs and instruments, turrets and undercarriages and tyres, while others would be doing other pre-checks on the airframe wings, intercom and oxygen bottles etc., should any faults be found then an air test would be necessary to be carried out by the Pilot and Flight Engineer to make sure all was well. If a fault was still found and was connected with the flying ability of the aircraft further work would have to be carried out, a further air test would be required. Occasionally a complete engine may have to be replaced putting great strain on the ground crews. While all this was happening other special staff would be working against time. The Intelligent Officer checking maps and up to date information regarding the target and route. The weather people checking the last minute weather conditions. In messes the kitchen staff would have to prepare breakfast, lunch, tea and supper for around 200 people on top of that when operations were on a meal consisting of chips and egg had to be prepared and served approximately two hours before take-off time for the aircrews. In the locker rooms each flying crew had to have a parachute, flying helmet, safety aids, maps and money of the countries over which they would be flying, in case of being 61 [page break] shot down. Sandwiches, extra rations prepared by the WAAFS and parcelled up to include chocolate, fruit, chewing gum and other items of refreshment. The Station Officer and Flight Commander would be selecting the crew and working out the technical data for the journey. Up until now the aircrews who may have been flying the evening before would be, during the morning, catching up on sleep (having got to bed around 4 to 5am), and in the early afternoon catching up with information etc. from their own Flight Officer or be visiting the aircraft to discuss with the ground crew, Sergeant-in-charge, any problems from the previous operation. Then probably the Pilot and Flight Engineer would have to carry out a test flight. Once it was announced that operations were on, the aircrews had to attend briefing, have their meal then collect all necessary equipment from the locker room ready for being transported to the aircraft, to carry out the pre-flight checks ready for take-off. Only then after this could the ground crew relax, have a meal, a wash and have some time to themselves, if there was any time left, then be ready for the aircraft returning home anytime from five to eight hours later depending on the distance of the target. Crews on return were interviewed by the Interrogation Officer, then have their meal and then to bed for hopefully a good sleep, to be ready for what were to happen the next day. The Clothes Normally Worn on Operations by our Crew In Bomber Command there was no laid down dress code for air crew to wear when flying on operations, every Squadron in fact every person had his own preference, all had to wear the RAF uniform, however what they wore under or over was entirely up to individuals (the RAF uniform had to be worn for safety reasons in case they landed in enemy territory, in uniform they became prisoners of war, in ‘civies’ they were most likely to be called spies and possibly shot). Most of the operations carried out on Lancasters (in fact from all heavy bombers) were from heights of 20,000 ft or over where temperatures could drop to as low as -35 or -40oC below zero. There was a certain amount of heating within the aircraft, this was heat which originated from the engines through ducts and entered the fuselage in the wireless operators compartment, therefore while the wireless operator and the navigator were roasting a little of the heat could be felt by the pilot and engineer, the bomb aimer who was in the front and the gunners in their turrets received no benefit, they had to source heat from other means. As I indicated earlier it was an individual choice what clothing they wore, however I can tell you what our crew would normally wear, starting with the most comfortable. Wireless operator: Normal RAF battle dress, heavy white jersey up to the neck, Mae West, parachute harness, flying boots and silk gloves. Navigator: Normal RAF battle dress over silk underwear, heavy jersey, Mae West, parachute harness, flying boots, leather shoe foot with lamb’s wool tops (easily cut off), silk gloves plus leather gloves. 62 [page break] Pilot and Flight engineer: There was much less heat reached the front of the aircraft therefore we wore silk underwear, long johns under RAF battle dress, heavy white woollen jersey up to neck, leather gloves over silk gloves. No Mae West, parachute harness, flying boots leather shoe base and leather flying jacket. Bomb aimer: He usually flew in the nose of the aircraft which could be very cold, he wore silk underwear, long johns, RAF battle dress usually two heavy woollen jerseys and heavy over suit, Mae West, parachute harness, silk gloves, woollen gloves and a pair of leather gloves on top plus the normal flying boots. The two crew members who suffered most from the cold were the gunners. Mid upper gunner: he was still within the aircraft which gave some comfort. He wore two complete suits of silk underwear, two woollen jerseys, RAF battle dress, unheated over suit, heated over suit, Mae West, parachute harness, woollen scarf, woollen head cover under his helmet, three pairs of gloves, silk, woollen and leather, heated flying boots. Rear gunner: This was the coldest place in the aircraft in fact he was actually outside the rear of the plane, so if it was expected that the temperatures would be around -20oC he would wear that similar to the mid upper gunner however if the temperatures were expected to drop to say -40oC he would add on extra layers of clothing and wear five pairs of gloves. The gunners flying suits were electrically heated from a plug-in switch as were their helmet and gloves, their flying boots were also electrically heated, therefore if everything worked properly they were reasonably comfortable, this was however not always the case, a fault in the electrical system, possibly caused by enemy action, then they had problems and could receive severe frost bite, resulting in loss of fingers, toes or even more. When the gunners were dressed up to ready to fly, it was difficult for them to walk and reach their position in the aircraft. The rear gunners especially looked like the advert for Dunlop tyres! One of the main reasons for all crew members wearing silk gloves was if you caught the metal part of the aircraft with your bare hand it was so cold that the moisture from your skin would stick to the metal and leave you with severe injuries. In the aircraft flying at over 10,000 ft oxygen had to be used which meant using masks attached to the helmets, which every few minutes you had to break the ice which had formed around the mask from just breathing. The oxygen was also distributed through the aircraft from a single supply at each crew position there was a supply tap, there was also emergency bottles at each position, these would last for around 10 minutes. We all also carried a whistle which was attached to the top left hand buttonhole of our tunic. The sound from a whistle carries much further than the human voice. It could be used to attract attention to one’s self in a dangerous situation or for making contact with others. 63 [page break] Contact made with Two Crew Members after 60 Years plus information on others Living in Scotland during the 1950’s and 60’s we had little choice of attending any of the activities which took place such as Airfield Open Days, Squadron reunions, or fly pasts, and it wasn’t until the early 1970s when we moved down to Shropshire that we began attending the occasional ‘open days’ (by this time Brian was old enough to be interested), Sylvia’s mum and sister’s home was in North Hykeham, Lincoln, only a short drive from Waddington RAF station, so this was our first visit of many which proved interesting and a good days entertainment. We then in 1998 decided to revisit Ludford Magna (101 Squadron airfield) and the small church in the village where a Book of Remembrance was, the Book of Remembrance was of interest to me as it contained all the names of the aircrew that had been lost during the period which 101 Squadron had been there, as I said in my earlier notes that when we arrived at Ludford in July 1943 there was four crews two of which had the name of Evans, WL Evans and AH Evans, at Lindholme Heavy Conversion Unit. I was crewed up with WL Evans’ crew, and carried out my training with them, however when we arrived at Ludford somehow the paperwork was wrong and I was crewed up with AH Evans’ crew. It was suggested that as neither crews had been on operations the obvious thing was just to leave the paperwork as it was and for me to change over to the AH Evans crew, and the other Flight Engineer to take my place, Wally Evans would not agree, I was his Flight Engineer and that was how it had to be. All four crews flew on the same operations, on our first two, all returned, on our third AH Evans crew did not return, and by our fifth operation only our crew WL Evans were still operating. Checking in the Remembrance book sadly, I was able to read and realise how lucky I was that Wally had faith in me all those years ago. While in the church we met a lady who looked after the church and was in fact decorating it with flowers, as she said this weekend coming was the 101 Squadron Association Reunion, when a service was held in the church followed by the laying of wreaths at the small memorial and afterwards the Women’s Institute laid on in the village hall tea and cakes for all, and if the weather was kind the Lancaster bomber would give a flying display. In the year 2000 I joined the 101 Squadron Association and have attended the reunion every year since in early September, and in recent years Brian and Pauline have also joined us, joining the Association has proved very good as we have met many veterans who were flying during our time in the Squadron and other very interested people. It was through the Association Newsletter that I made contact with some of our crew members whom I had not heard from for nearly 70 years. They are Norman Ellison, our Wireless Operator and Len Brooks, our rear gunner. In the summer of 2002 after writing a short article for the 101 Squadron Association Newsletter I was contacted by Chris, the son of our Wireless Operator (Norman Ellison) asking if I was the Donald Fraser who flew with his dad in 1943‑44 with 101 Squadron. After the telephone call Chris arranged for Sylvia and I to go to his home to meet his wife Christine and James his son, he lives in Exeter, his dad’s home was in Dawlish only a few miles apart. Chris then took us to meet his mum and dad, it was great to see him after 63 years and as such was quite emotional for both of us. It was so good to meet his wife Pauline. We stayed for around two hours before travelling on our way to Woolacombe. We met up again over the next two years, unfortunately Norman’s health deteriorated and he passed away on 13th February 2005. We attended his funeral, since then we exchange Christmas cards and the odd telephone call each year with his wife and Chris and his family. 64 [page break] Norman also kept in touch with Wally Evans (our Pilot). After the war he emigrated to Australia where he lived for a number of years before returning to the UK in the mid eighties when he again contacted Norman, they then tried to contact all the other crew members, unfortunately the only member that made contact was Len Brooks, our rear gunner, Norman understood that Wally died in the late eighties. Len Brooks, our rear gunner, we all knew that he lived in Grimsby for most of his life. During our time at Ludford whenever there was no flying on, he would take the opportunity to visit home which only took him over an hour to hitch a lift. If there was any change on flying one member of the crew would give him a telephone call and he would return to the Squadron very quickly. During the 1980s and 90s there was a large number of books written covering the war and Bomber Command, I enjoyed reading many of them, even although as you know I did not believe all that was written, many of the books covered the time we were flying, as a result many of the operations we flew on were mentioned in them. There was a series of books written by Patrick M Otter on Bomber Command One Group, the group which 101 Squadron was in and operated throughout Lincolnshire. On reading one of Otter’s books called “Maximum Effort” I came across a picture of a number of air gunners while they were stationed at Lindholme as Instructors during their rest period. On a closer look I recognised one as Len our rear gunner. On contacting Mr Patrick Otter in 2004, he said it was 16 years since he spoke with Len at his home in Cleethorpes. However he could find no trace of him in the local telephone directories, he said he had left a message at the RAFA club in Cleethorpes to see if anyone knew what became of him, and if he had any response he would drop me a line. We thought that he had passed away around 2001‑2002. I also made contact with Ken Lewis our Special Operator through the Newsletter, Ken also wasn’t in the best of health, however he arranged for his son in law to drive him from Reading (his home) to Lincoln. We had a great time at the Reunion lunch catching up with the past in September 2006, Ken’s profession was in Insurance which he spent all his working life in. Unfortunately he was unable to attend any more reunion meetings. At the end of the war Norman had been in touch with Bill Blaynay, our Midupper gunner, who part way through our tour of operations after an unfortunate incident was released from flying. He told Norman that he had been reassessed and had his Sargents [sic] rank reinstated, other than that we have no other information about him. There was still two more crew members still unaccounted for, Jimmy, our Navigator and Eric, our Bomb Aimer. Shropshire during the war had a number of Heavy Bomber Airfields, Ternhill, Shawbury and Cosford which are still in service today. Prees, and Sleap, were both wartime bases flying Lancasters, at Prees the hangers are being used as storage units for commercial companies. Sleap is now the home of Shropshire Flying Club using part of the runway, a few buildings and the Control Tower. It is open to the public, where you watch the small aircraft flying and one can enjoy and a good cup of tea and a cake and have a good chat with people who are still interested in flying. There is also a small Museum covering plane parts from World War II. In the last three years Sylvia, myself and friends occasionally drop in for a cup of tea, by now we know a few of the staff who are all Volunteers and very interested people. 65 [page break] Jimmy Grant, Navigator On one of our visits in 2012 I had taken with me the 1943 Christmas Dinner menu for 101 Squadron, all the crew members had signed it in the inside, most people looking at the menu thought that we had had an excellent meal considering there was a war on. Mike Grant one of the longer serving volunteers at Sleap Museum, who aids in researching the items that are given to the Museum before they go on display to the public. Meantime he is also tracing the history of the oil pipeline which carried the millions of gallons of oil from the ports, across the UK down to the Channel ports and on to the D Day landing sites and beyond. This will be a very interesting book to read when it is published, soon. On seeing the menu Mike said “I know this signature, he is one of my family, see how he writes the ‘G’ and the ‘r’ in Grant, we all write our signature the same way, and we were all told off at school for not writing properly”. We worked out that Jimmy our Navigator was his uncle. After the war he said the family had gone their separate ways, as many families did, so he had no idea where Jimmy would be now – it’s a small world. We still have no idea of what happened to Eric our Bomb aimer. 66 [page break] CHAPTER K THE LANCASTER STORY It became clear reasonably early in the Second World War that if Britain had any chance of winning, Bomber Command had to take the war to Germany, deep into its industrial heart, which was not possible with the short range light Bombers. It was decided by the War Council that a much larger aircraft which could travel further, with a much heavier bomb load into Germany was needed, hence the introduction of the four engined heavy bomber, the Halifax and the Lancaster. 1942 marked the turning point for Bomber Command, Marshal Travis Harris (later known as Bomber Harris) was appointed Leader of Bomber Command. He believed that Bomber Command given the necessary aircraft and equipment, could play an important role in winning the war by strategic bombing of Germany’s industrial towns and cities. Harris ordered a 1000 aircraft raid on Cologne be carried out. Fortunately the operation was credited as a success, this persuaded the Government to allocate Bomber Command high priority for aircraft and more importantly navigation aids and radar which were vital for accurate delivery of bombs on targets. The development of the Lancaster continued with a few prototypes being produced, the production of Lancasters increased slowly at first and gradually stepped up reaching their peak by the end of 1944. The earlier two engine bomber had a second pilot to aid the captain with a crew number of five, however on the four engined heavies where crew members could move around the fuselage, a change was necessary. The heavies had a mid upper gun fitted requiring a mid upper gunner; because of pilot shortages owing to the increase in numbers of new squadrons coming on stream and the increased complexity of the four engine bomber, this called for a specialist engineer to replace the second pilot, so the flight engineer was created, the standard crew of the Lancaster comprised of seven specialists, Pilot, Navigator, Flight Engineer, Wireless operator, Bomb Aimer, Mid Upper Gunner and Rear Gunner. Each was an expert in his own field and each a vital cog in the overall crew, rank played no part in the airborne life of the crew. The Lancaster was involved on most of the important operations, such as the Dambuster Raid on 16/17th May 1943, The Battle of the Ruhr, Battle of Berlin, (Overlord, the name given to the Invasion of Europe 6th May 1944) and Operation Thunder Clap, mass raids against supply and communication targets such as road and railyards continued, and against German naval shipping at Le Havre. In late July a bombing campaign against the V-weapon sites commenced as there was fear that Germany had a new secret weapon, raids were carried out on launching and storage sites, these operations took much of Bomber Commands efforts throughout the autumn of 1944 as did the attacks against the French railway in support of Overland. In September the 67 [page break] Navy believed that Tirpitz (the German Battleship) which was anchored in the Kaa Fjord in Norway was about to put to sea. Bomber Command was again given the task of destroying her. On the third attempt on 12th November 31 Lancasters attacked the Battleship. This time on arrival the weather was clear over the ship, no smokescreen obscured the target, during the attack several hits were seen by the Lancaster crews, followed by a heavy explosion, one of its magazines blew up, then the mighty Battleship rolled over and capsized. By the end of 1944 the Allied Armies were approaching the Rhine, come the end of March 1945, they had crossed the river in strength and were advancing on Berlin. Bomber Command’s role assisted by the United States Eighth Airforce was to support the Allies by bombing Military targets, and in supporting the Russian Army on their advance from the east on Berlin. The last major attack of the war took place on 25th April 1945 by the bombing of the Bergholf (Hitler’s Eagles nest) and the SS barracks nearby. The war in Europe ended on 8th May 1945 (VE Day), however just previous to that operation Manna was put into action, which was dropping vital food supplies to the starving civilian population of the Netherlands (the Germans agreed to the dropping areas) a similar operation dropped food parcels to the Dutch population. A large number of Lancasters were involved, these operations stopped on VE Day. With the war in Europe over, plans were made for the repatriation of British and Commonwealth prisoners of war under the code name Operation Exodus, many Lancasters were converted to carry 25 passengers for this purpose. Flights continued bringing prisoners home from across France and Germany. Receiving camps were set up in the United Kingdom for the thousands of men returning home from Europe. Although the war was over in Europe, many Lancasters were preparing for war in the Far East, known as the Tiger Force, it was agreed that 10 Squadrons of Lancasters would be used until the New Lincoln Bomber came on stream which had much longer fuel ranges. Fortunately the Japanese war ended sooner than expected (because of the use of the Atom bomb) resulting in Tiger Force not being required. Myself along with many other crew members were very relieved, because flying over Japan would have been very difficult and dangerous. After the war the Lancaster continued flying carrying out various roles until the new aircraft came into service, of the approximately eight thousand Lancasters that were built only a few are left with only two airworthy aircraft, one in Britain and the other in Canada. During World War II Lincolnshire was known as Lancaster County, because of the large number of squadrons scattered across the County (28 in total). Today most of the land then used is now returned to agriculture. It is still difficult to travel around without driving past the site of a famous airfield. The airworthy Lancaster belongs to the Lincolnshire’s Lancaster Association, based at RAF Coningsby and is part of the Battle of Britain memorial Flight. Each year this flight performs at many air-displays entertaining thousands of people and serves as a living memorial to those air crew who gave their lives in the defence of their Country. There is a second Lancaster which has its home also in Lincolnshire at East Kirby and belongs to two brothers, Fred and Harold Panton, the aircraft is maintained to a very high standard, 68 [page break] where the public can have a taxi ride in the Lancaster, and enjoy the sound of the four Merlin engines. The people of Lincolnshire were the first to know when the RAF were on operations, as with 28 squadrons based throughout the county and each squadron with at least 20 aircraft serviceable, the sound made from over 2000 Merlin engines, as they circled and climbed to reach a height of 10,000 ft before setting out across Europe was tremendous. People from the Netherlands told me (after the war) that during the war they lay in bed at night hoping to hear the special sound made by the British bombers, and as they passed over, they wished them success in their operation and prayed that the young men who flew in them returned home safely. During operations I listened to the four Merlin engines purring away for five or six hours, the sound was magic and something I will never forget. I am one of the thousands who have been entertained over the years by attending many of the fly pasts and open days, where the Lancaster has been carrying out the flypast, firstly to hear the sound of the Merlin engines which is music to my ears, then to see this superb aircraft flying towards you at around 200 feet nearly always brings a tear to my eyes for memories past. Date: 30 Aug 1943 This picture was taken from the camera operated in conjunction with the opening of the bomb doors and Bomb Aimer releasing his bombs on our 2nd Operation to Munchen Gladbach. The picture plotted the bombs hitting the target. [photograph of bombs hitting target] 69 [page break] Lancaster Bomber Specification Length: 69ft 4ins (21.08m) Wingspan: 102ft 6ins (31.00m) Height: 20ft 6ins (6.23m) Maximum Speed: 300+ mph Range loaded: 2,600 miles app Ceiling loaded: 24,000 ft Internal payload: up to 7 tons Full fuel load: 2,140 gallon 4 Merlin engines 1390 hp (The latest Lancasters could be better in all specifications) 70 [page break] [photograph of Avro Lancaster bomber] [photograph of Avro Lancaster cockpit] 72 [page break] [inserted] 16th December 1943 14th op. [deleted] Page 3 [/deleted] [/inserted] Black Thursday [inserted] Further notes on our 14th operation on 16th December 1943 [/inserted] [crest] AT A minute before midnight on the night of December 16. 1943 Lancaster LM395 emerged briefly from low cloud just north of Caistor. There was barely time for the pilot, Sgt Stan Miller of Scarborough to register what was happening before the Lancaster struck high ground near the town. When rescuers arrived they found no survivors among the crew of seven. Crashes amongst Lancasters returning from ops or on night exercises had become an almost regular occurrence in Lincolnshire by the winter of 1943. But that night something awful was happening as the 1 Group aircraft returned from a round trip of eight hours to Berlin. The raid that night had been specifically planned to catch the defenders fog bound on their nightfighter bases across Northern Europe. Instead, the mist came down and shrouded many of the airfields in Eastern England as the bombers were returning. That night 483 Lancasters and 15 Mosquitos raided Berlin. Twenty-five aircraft were lost to a combination of night-fighters, flak and collisions over the German capital. At least another 29 Lancasters were lost in crashes when the bombers returned to airfields blanketed in fog. 1 Group suffered more than most with 13 aircraft being lost and 56 men killed in crashes on or around their bases. 100 Squadron was hit hardest of all, losing four aircraft, including two which collided right over the airfield at Waltham. 460 at Binbrook lost two as did 166 at Kirmington. And single aircraft were lost from 625 Squadron at Kelstern, 101 at Ludford and 12 and 626 lost a Lancaster each at Wickenby. During briefings that afternoon, crews had been told that Bomber Command had been waiting to mount a raid on Berlin when the weather was so bad that the fighters would be grounded and they would have an easy trip. This was to be it. The planned route was straight in and out again over Denmark. But the fighters, which were supposed to be sitting on fog-shrouded airfields across Holland, Belgium, Northern France and Germany, were airborne, and the first intercepted the stream of Lancasters over the Dutch coast and there were running battles, until the bomber stream turned for home across Denmark. Twenty one aircraft were shot down and four lost in collisions over Berlin itself. The weather became progressively worse as the aircraft returned and by the time the 1 Group Lancasters began arriving they found the cloud base had almost reached ground level. Crashes began to be reported from almost every airfield. Tired crews were unable to pick up the circle of lights which by then had been fitted around most of the dromes. Some came down in open fields, some, like LM395, simply flew into the Wolds. At Waltham, two Lancasters from 100 Squadron, O-Oboe and F-Freddie, collided as they circled looking for the funnel of lights that could guide them to safety. One man who remembers that night vividly is Wing Commander Jimmy Bennett, who had arrived at Waltham three weeks earlier to form the new 550 Squadron which was due to move to North Killingholme in the new year. Bennett. with two tours behind him already, chose to fly that with 'Bluey’ Graham and his crew. "Our take-off was early, about 4.30 in the afternoon, and even then visibility wasn't very good and it was plain we were not going to be in for a very pleasant journey,” he said. The bombers emerged from the cloud cover which was supposed to protect them over the North Sea. “There was no high cloud and at times we could see dozens of aircraft around us," Bennett recalled. "The clouds below cleared slightly over the city, we dropped our bombs and got away again. There was some fighter activity but we were not bothered. "Coming back the cloud started to increase again and it was clear that by the time we reached England it would be almost right down to the deck. Bluey decided to come down through the cloud over the North Sea. In conditions like that it was always wise practice. Lincolnshire may have been fairly flat, but other places weren’t and there were always a few of what we called "stuffed clouds" around, clouds which contained something hard, like a hill. "We dropped down into the mist but Bluey picked up the outer circle of sodium lights at Waltham, stuck his port wing on them and followed them round until he found the funnel and put her down. “We rolled along the runway to the far hedge and we were already aware that planes were coming down all around us, landing at the first opportunity, so we decided it would be a lot safer to leave the aircraft where it was and walk the rest of the way.” 73 [page break] Black Thursday [picture of aircraft] 100 Squadron had suffered terribly that night. So had 97 Squadron at Bourn in Cambridgeshire. It lost no fewer than seven aircraft in crashes. The 1 Group Summary, which was circulated to all squadrons at the end of December, recorded: “No opportunity for striking at our objectives must be lost. This being the case, it is obvious that, in addition to the enemy on the far side, the elements of this side still have to be mastered. “As an illustration, after the raid on Berlin on December 16/17, a widespread and unpredicted deterioration in the weather at our home bases occurred. "No diversion areas were available and many deplorable accidents resulted while our aircraft were endeavouring to break cloud and land." The Summary continued: "An investigation has now been completed which shows the accidents cannot be attributed to a common factor. Some aircraft broke cloud too quickly, some broke cloud too slowly and continued to sink, whilst others ''slipped in” on a turn while endeavouring to keep the airfield lights in view." It added: "Conditions were vile and unexpected yet 136 aircraft landed safely. We must continue to strive for better airmanship and more effective ground control. But no number of investigations and changes to procedure could erase the memory of that wooden hut near Louth for Wing Commander Bennett. One crew which narrowly escaped joining the casualties that night was one from 101 Squadron at Ludford. [inserted] X2 [/inserted] Len Brooks, who was the rear gunner in a Lancaster flown by Sgt Walter Evans, remembers that they were diverted to Driffield because of the bad weather. Over East Yorkshire they were picking up RT messages from Driffield, Dishforth and Catfoss but could see no lights through the murk. Then Catfoss offered to put a light up for them. " They realised we were very low and put the beam almost parallel to the ground right on us. I remember feeling the power go on. the nose lift and suddenly I saw under the turret chicken huts, a garden shed and finally chimney pots flashing by. That Iight had saved us.” [inserted] This refers to the aircraft being suddenly given full power to lift itself over the farm buildings [/inserted] Mr Brooks also remembers the first time Ludford's new FIDO fog dispersal system came into use. This consisted of a system of petrol burners the length of the runway, the theory being that the heat generated would drive the fog away. It worked, too, the only problem being that the hot air caused a great deal of turbulence over the runway. He recalls that two aircraft ahead of them declined to land, despite the exhortations of the station commander, Group Captain Bobby Blucke. When it came to their turn they were so low on fuel they had no option and Evans virtually forced the Lancaster down onto the runway. [inserted] [symbol] Len Brooks our Rear Gunner He was looking backwards from the aircraft therefore had a completely different view from the others of the crew [/inserted] [photograph of the rear gunner, Len Brooks] 102. An unknown gunner standing by his turret. 12 Squadron, Wickenby, May 1944. 74 [page break] Training the Crews [crest] BEFORE BOMBER Command could launch its projected expansion in late 1943 and 1944 it had to have a ready supply of crews. And that meant an increase in training establishments. Changes in the training system meant that each Group became responsible for turning out its own heavy bomber crews. With Lindholme in South Yorkshire as the Base station, Heavy Conversion Units were set up at Faldingworth, Blyton and Sandtoft with other training units being based at various times at Hemswell, Ingham and Sturgate. Most of the1I Group crews were to go through these training bases and many felt that flying with operation squadrons was considerably safer than in the HCUs. Until more Lancasters became available, their conversion to four-engined heavies was largely on Halifaxes, and in particular on the early Mark I and lls. They were underpowered aircraft which had already been discarded by operational squadrons in favour of either Lancasters or the much superior later marques of the Halifax. They also had some nasty habits, particularly when inexperienced crews tried one particular manoeuvre which effectively blocked the airflow over the tail and was responsible for the destruction of a number of these aircraft. One ex-12 Squadron crew remember starting six cross-country exercises from Sandtoft and failing to complete one of them. There was little wonder that Sandtoft became known throughout 1 Group as Prangtoft. Sandtoft itself was, like the other training airfields, originally intended as an operational station. The site. which is alongside what is now the M180 between Scunthorpe and Thorne, was selected by Air Ministry surveyors in January 1942 as suitable for use by heavy aircraft and work started that October on the construction of the airfield. It was intended that it would come into use as a bomber airfield in January 1944 but in the meantime, it was decided to earmark the new station for a Heavy Conversion Unit. It officially opened in December 1943 (although it was by no means complete, not unusual with newly-opened airfields in 1 Group at the time). The first unit to operate from there was A Flight of 1667 HCU which moved in from Faldingworth, followed by its other two flights. Later in the year a fourth Flight was formed and this became the Flying Instructors’ Flight which in turn provided the training for instructors within 11 Base which also included Lindholme and Blyton. [photograph of gunnery instructors] 133. Gunnery instructor at Lindholme in 1944. On the extreme left is Bob Dunston, an Australian who had lost a leg while serving with the 8th Army at Tobruk and later volunteered for the RAF as an air gunner. The picture comes from Len Brooks of Cleethorpes, pictured second from the left. [inserted] Second from left is Len Brooks our Rear Gunner [/inserted] 75 [page break] [blank page] Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource WO Donald Keith Fraser Donald Keith Fraser's memoir Description An account of the resource Memoir describing his life and service career in the RAF, listing 29 operations in which he participated, along with notes on specific operations, and recounting a brief history of the Lancaster. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Donald Fraser Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 80 typewritten pages Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Memoir Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context BFraserDKFraserDKv1 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. France Germany Great Britain Poland England--Lincolnshire France--Modane Germany--Augsburg Germany--Berlin Germany--Bochum Germany--Düsseldorf Germany--Frankfurt am Main Germany--Hannover Germany--Leipzig Germany--Leverkusen Germany--Mannheim Germany--Mönchengladbach Germany--Munich Germany--Schweinfurt Germany--Stuttgart Poland--Szczecin Germany--Braunschweig Germany--Ruhr (Region) Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Tricia Marshall David Bloomfield Maureen Clarke Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942 1943 1944 1 Group 101 Squadron 1667 HCU 1668 HCU aircrew Berlin Campaign (23 August 1943 – 25 March 1944) bomb trolley bombing bombing up briefing Churchill, Winston (1874-1965) Cook’s tour dispersal Distinguished Flying Medal fear FIDO fitter engine flight engineer flight mechanic fuelling Gee George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952) ground crew ground personnel Halifax Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984) Heavy Conversion Unit intelligence officer Lancaster memorial military ethos military living conditions military service conditions navigator Nissen hut Operational Training Unit perception of bombing war perimeter track petrol bowser radar RAF Bottesford RAF Catfoss RAF Coningsby RAF Cottesmore RAF East Kirkby RAF Lindholme RAF Ludford Magna RAF North Luffenham RAF Sandtoft RAF St Athan RAF Waddington RAF Wickenby runway searchlight service vehicle Tiger force Tirpitz tractor training Window wireless operator https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/890/31595/BHumesELHumesELv1.pdf f68cd73a388d83878846349fc41dd95f Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Humes, Eddie Edward L Humes E L Humes Description An account of the resource Three items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Eddie Humes (b. 1922, 642170 Royal Air Force), RAF personnel document and a memoir. After serving in Balloon Command, he flew operations as a navigator with 514 Squadron The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Eddie Humes and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-08-26 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Humes, EL Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Roger Marsh of the ‘Action Desk — Sheffield’ Team on behalf of Edward L. Humes, and has been added to the site with the authors permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions. Introduction: "Just Another Story" was written, at the suggestion of Yvonne Agnes Kennedy, who felt that my experiences, whilst serving with the R.A.F. would make interesting reading to those who knew me. My thanks go to Clive Hill, the nephew of my flight engineer, who spent many hours researching the loss of Lancaster II LL639 and who kindly gave permission to use the photographs and sketch maps included in my story. E.L. Humes. Chapter 1: Early Days Early in May 1939 I was struggling to decide whether to embark on a career in the R.A.F. or to set out on training for the teaching profession. My parents were not happy with the first and many and sometimes heated were the discussions we had over the subject. Finally they agreed to my wishes and I visited a recruiting office to discuss the matter with officials of the Force. It appeared that I was not sufficiently qualified for duties as a member of Air Crew, but was advised to enlist and try again when I was a member of the Service. In hindsight I am not sure that this was good advice, nevertheless, I enrolled as a flight mechanic. This might just satisfy my desire to be working with aircraft. After completing my recruit training I was ready to begin my course, but I was to be disappointed. The declaration of War was imminent and all sorts of changes were being made in the R.A.F., along with many others. I was posted not to an airfield for training in my chosen trade, but to an airfield without any planes. Protest as I may, I was informed that, "You are in the Air Force now," a phrase I was to hear many times over the next seven years. Nothing for it but to get on with it and become an efficient balloon operator. The training was not too hard, either physically or mentally, and I enjoyed the course but the worst was yet to come. War was declared. The good life came to an end and I found myself posted to the Essex County Cricket Ground to join a small group to operate a barrage balloon. What a disappointment! Ten of us housed in a Tennis Pavilion with only minimum facilities, how was I to know that this was going to stand me in very good stead in the years ahead? Occasionally, I got a break for I was selected to represent my squadron at football, and it was after a match that I met an officer who again whetted my appetite for aircrew. There was a way. I must apply to re-muster. There was no hesitation on my part and I was granted an interview to attain my suitability for the new venture. It was now obvious to those in command that I was far from happy with my present role. To my horror I was moved to serve on a drifter in the estuary of the River Thames. Six airmen and six ex fishermen living in the most deplorable conditions I had yet encountered. We were anchored in position and at the mercy of the changing tides. Besides this [page break] we were often attacked by marauding fighters of the Luftwaffe, that often got to us before we could raise the balloon to its operational height. Wanting the chance to retaliate, I dared to ask when I might receive my posting to air crew training. Surprise, surprise, I was sent to Cardington to take a course on DRIVING. One good thing was that it was Heaven after the rigours of the previous months. The course was so very interesting that for a while I forgot aircrew training. Another plus was that I was now with people of my own age group, more or less. All good things come to an end. At the end of the course I was posted to a small hut in the East End of London- Blitz and all. This was to be my home until I got my wish. Stories of the Blitz are legion, so I will not bore you with mine. SUCCESS AT LAST! Great news! Report to St. John's Wood, London to commence Air Crew Training. I could not get there quickly enough. Soon I was having tests for suitability in many fields. The majority of my colleagues were of my own age group once again, and although I was classed a raw recruit, I did not mind one little bit. "Square Bashing" was no problem to me as I had done it all before. Discipline was not hard for me as I had already had almost two years of life in the R.A.F. medical checks, attitude tests and many other tests were carried out and finally, I was on my way to St. Andrew's in Scotland for Initial Training. Life was so exciting! Studying the mysteries of basic navigation, Morse Code, meteorology and lots of other subjects in the hallowed cloisters of St. Andrew's and in my leisure time, becoming familiar with my fellow trainees made the time pass very, very quickly. Even the weather was glorious! The time came to show how well I had studied. Exam followed exam. Would it never end? At last came the news I had waited for. I was over the first hurdle. Where to now? Across the River Tay was a small airfield which had been taken over by the R.A.F. This was my next destination. The accommodation was superb, but what was more exciting was that there were aircraft. Real aeroplanes. Only Tiger Moths, but for the coming weeks, I would be having lessons on how to fly. The weather was not always kind at Scone, but I was eventually allowed to fly solo. Such a Wonderful experience, but sadly, I now had to move on to the next part of my course. I had a couple of weeks leave, which enabled me to tell my parents and others just how much I was enjoying myself. Heaton Park, Manchester was to be my next place of rest. Rumour had it that the stay here would be for a couple of weeks, and then there would be an overseas posting to further training. This was not to be. The Air Ministry had decreed that as there was a glut of people wishing to train as Pilots, there must be some change to provide crew for the other positions in Bomber aircraft. Lowly airmen that we were, there was no way that we could work out how the selection was made. A group of pilots who had already flown against the Luftwaffe, were reclassified as navigators and bomb aimers under training. Needless to say, this was not at all satisfactory, and the last we saw of them was their leaving camp for the Belgian Embassy!!! [page break] What of our small group? Nineteen were to train as navigators, and one as a pilot. Within two weeks the u/t pilot was on his way somewhere overseas. The rest of us spent our days doing very little other than attending morning parade and enjoying the rest of the day, doing whatever we thought best. After twelve weeks, this routine became extremely boring. Manchester was no longer an attraction as the weather was wet and cold, not to mention the fact that our Nissen hut was very damp and very cold, and we should really be abroad to continue our training. As the senior airman, I was delegated to meet the station adjutant to ascertain when we would be posted. He was as surprised as I was. Officially we were not on the station! "Go home for two weeks (or more) and you will be advised of your next posting." During the third week I was told to report at Bridgenorth in Shropshire to begin the next phase of navigational training. On arrival, I found that once again I was on a unit without aircraft. Never mind, my colleagues from Heaton Park were also there. I was not going overseas. Discipline and hard study were now the order of the day. Advanced studies in the art of navigation and all subjects connected therewith. Little time to spare. Even Christmas was a mere day from studies. Examination time again. Results were published and I heaved a sigh of relief, when I found that I was considered suitable to continue with the course. As the next stage was to put all that I had learned into practice, then there must be aircraft at the next stopping place. Flying at Last Advanced Navigation School, Dumfries. This was to be the nearest I was to get to a posting overseas. Yes, there were aircraft on the station. Several Anson and one Botha aircraft were used as flying classrooms. The time had come to put into practice all that I had been taught. Basic ground training continued but now we had to use our knowledge to follow a route and return to Base, quite often with a pilot whose knowledge of English was sketchy, and who was apt to turn off course to see some beauty spot he had heard of in his schooldays in Poland or France, or some other European country. Two trainee navigators were allocated to each trip, one to plot the outward journey and the other to plot the course for Base. Although mistakes were made, it gave each a great sense of achievement to complete the trip without having recourse to the pilot, asking for a positional check to obtain a new starting point. Aerial Photography was very difficult for me. I was small and to me the camera was HUGE. To hold it pointing out of a window was almost a physical impossibility, especially when the pilot banked to look at the ground below. I often thought of what might happen to me back in Dumfries if I should ever loose the camera out of the window at three or four thousand feet. Despite the hazards I got results which satisfied the instructor, and was ready to commence night flying. What is more, I had struck up a good understanding with my fellow pupil, which I hoped would stand us both in good stead during the coming weeks of night work. This was not to be. By now I should have known the ways of the R.A.F. better. A new intake of "trainees" arrived on the station. They had completed their course abroad and were sporting the coveted Brevets. The partly trained rookies were paired off with newly qualified navigators for night [page break] flying. The new boys had never flown over a completely darkened country side and many were the arguments in and out of the aircraft. It was no joke to take over navigation from a person who had got himself hopelessly lost. By this time, we "home trained" navigators were proving pretty hot stuff at the task! Or so we thought. Training seemed to take an eternity and I was relieved when final exams took place. How would I do this time? I passed but was not present at the presentation of our Brevets - I had been injured in an inter flight football match and was to spend the next three weeks in the station Sick Bay. Still I was now a navigator and proud to wear the insignia and the three stripes which I received. 642170 Sgt. Humes E.L. (Navigator) Celebrations went on for many hours, both at Dumfries and in Carlisle, which was not too far away. Home again to enjoy what I thought was a well-earned leave. Stay there until you receive your next posting. I hoped that the Heaton Park episode would not be repeated. It wasn't. After three weeks I was to report to O.T.U. Chipping Warden where I would join a group of newly qualified pilots, bomb aimers, wireless ops. and gunners to form an aircrew. One Step Nearer to Operational Flying Chipping Warden, was an R.A.F. operational flying training unit. The aircraft used were Wellingtons and the training staff were almost 100% ex-operational aircrew. The atmosphere was so exhilarating! For a week or so, we had lectures etc., and we mingled with the trainees in other flying categories. There were pilots, navigators, bomb-aimers, wireless- operators and air-Gunners from almost every country in the British Empire. The time arrived when I was approached by an Australian Pilot and asked if I would like to join him in forming an aircrew. I had noticed Noel at a discussion group a few days earlier, and had been impressed by his attitude, of course I would join him. Our next task was to find a Bomb-Aimer suitable to us both. Jack Moulsdale (RAAF) had started his flying training in Australia at the same time as Noel, but had not qualified as a pilot. Undaunted, he continued his training and became a bomb - aimer. It seemed to me that it would be a wise decision to have someone else who had experience of flying an aircraft in our crew. Now to find a W./Op.- how the title drops from the tongue - now I was aircrew. It was left to yours truly to make the choice; even up the score; find a Brit. All agreed that the well built Scot would fit the bill. Jock Hughes became the fourth member of our crew. In order to complete our Wellington crew, we needed an Air-Gunner. The four of us looked around carefully and decided that the tall, quiet Australian was the best bet. He agreed to join us. Now we were a crew. From now onwards we had to work hard to become a unit, not just airmen wearing brevets, but a group who must learn to trust and depend on one another. Various ground exercises were carried out until we each knew what was expected, should we ever become involved in any problem, major or minor. Flying training began in earnest. Cross country flights in which I had to prove myself as an able navigator. Practice bombing and infra-red photography, where Jack had to show his prowess at hitting the target. Jock had to impress us with his ability to send and receive radio messages and [page break] to obtain navigational data, which would assist in locating the position of the aircraft. During these flights, Reg would operate his rear turret and become used to life in a small rear-turret. There were, of course, times when we "flew for real". Fighter simulation and long night flights of four hours or more to prepare for the tasks ahead. On one occasion we were instructed to join eight other aircraft in a six hour night cross country exercise, which would involve every aspect of what we would be likely to meet on an operational flight, without the "flak". Things became complicated when a blanket of cloud covered the whole of the British Isles. Radio silence was essential and navigation was carried out using the courses worked out at the morning briefing. I cannot say that I enjoyed the first couple of hours! Suddenly I had the opportunity to practice the astro navigation I had enjoyed so much. One shot only. Could I rely on it? I had no option. A slight alteration of course was needed. We continued on our way, all praying that my fix had been correct. Infra-red photographs were taken by Jack on pre- flight time schedule. Eventually we crossed our fingers, by my reckoning we were within a few miles of Base. Imagine our relief when we received a message giving a course to fly to complete the trip. We were only a few minutes away. On landing, we discovered that six of the eight aircraft which had left with us, had landed in various parts of the country, one had crash landed in Ireland. As far as my crew were concerned they had found a useful navigator. Chapter 2: 1678 Conversion Unit Two weeks leave and then report to Little Snoring. What a peculiar name. What a wonderful surprise. Sitting on the aerodrome were four engined aircraft, not the usual Lancaster but a type with Radial engines. This was to be our operational aircraft. All we had to do now was to show that we were capable of flying as a crew. First we needed extra hands. Clive Banfield became the flight engineer and Clem Hem was our mid- upper gunner. Clive was English and Clem Australian. Four Australians and three Englishmen. The youngest was twenty one, and the eldest, thirty six (this was not quite the case as I discovered many, many years later, that Clive had falsified his age in order to leave a reserved occupation to fly.) Very quickly we gelled into a crew again. "Thack" was the first to experience the thrill of flying in the Lanc II. He sang its praises and we were not disappointed when we had our first flight. Once again we had to carry out the drills of cross- country flying, Fighter affiliation, night- flying and the like but there was an additional item- Low flying! Here was a new slant on navigation. Map reading was not easy at the speed we flew in the new aircraft. Gradually everything slotted into place. We soon understood why Clive had been added to the team as the multiplicity of controls was more than one pair of hands could cope with. This quiet, confident man was just what we needed. Our training schedule was moving along nicely, but halted when early mist and fog made flying impossible. The Nissen huts in which we were billeted were cold and damp, and so miserable to spend the days in. I was reminded of the old days in Balloon Command. The ground courses had [page break] been completed and we longed to be told of our posting to an operational unit, but we now had to train in using a new navigational device- Gee H. This was a new method of using radar to reach the target and to release the bomb load when visual signals coincided on a screen on the nav. table. This was not a very thrilling exercise for the other crewmembers, and we were all very pleased when I became proficient and the monotonous training flights were completed. Now came the news we had waited so long to hear. We were to join 115 Squadron for Operational duty! Whilst we were on leave we received orders to return to Foulsham, not to join 115 but to become the nucleus of a newly formed Squadron-514. Our base was to be at Waterbeach in Cambridgeshire. We were allocated an aircraft and transferred all our personal equipment in it to our new home. Some crews had to carry out a raid on Germany on their way to Waterbeach. Luckily no aircraft were lost. I cannot describe my feelings on stepping out into the atmosphere of the new unit. Noise and bustle everywhere. The station had been completed shortly before war was declared. Our quarters were to be in red brick barracks and there was hardly a Nissen Hut in sight. Hot and cold water - such luxury! Again "Thack" was to be the first to fly an operational mission. He was second pilot to a more experienced man before being allowed to captain his own crew on bombing missions. All flying was now in earnest. More Gee-H. Dinghy drills, escape drills, low level flying and all the exercises we had carried out so many times before. It was somewhat nerve racking, waiting to hear the word that we were to be on Ops at last. The order of battle showed that we were to fly "for real" on 25th November 1943. 'Power and Majesty' Posing for company photographs provides the rare opportunity for an Armstrong Whitworth test pilot to put on 60° of bank and show what a Lanc. II can do, Delivered to No. 408 (Goose) Squadron RCAF at Linton - on - Ouse, this machine (DS 778) was, like so many, destined for an early demise, failing to return from Kassel on 22/23 October 1943, barely two months from the day this picture was taken. Photo: Hawker Siddeley / AWA. Ref: 'The Lancaster at War 2, Garbett & Goulding. Pub- Ian Allan Life on Squadron. Little changed; now we were an aircrew and believed that we were equal to any flying task allotted to us. Air tests had to be carried out and also the various drills which would keep us up to operational standard. Each morning, we looked at Flying Orders hoping that we would be listed for "ops." registering varying emotions. The more often we carried out a raid over enemy territory, the quicker we could complete our tour. None of us had any thought that we would not complete our thirty operations. There was a lot of banter and, more often than not, it would include arguments between the many members of the Commonwealth who made up the squadron. Who provided the best crews? Why was it so cold and wet in England? Football matches, cross country runs and other sporting events, which pitted Aussie against Pommie, Scot against Welshman, and West Indian against [page break] New Zealander. Of course not all free time was spent on camp for the city of Cambridge was not very far away and transport was frequent. The city was a place of recreation for other Forces, both air and ground. Many were the disputes between members of the American aircrews as to who did the best job and these arguments did not always end peacefully. Fortunately I was a "pacifist," so kept well out of the way when the discussions became heated. I was so pleased to be selected for the Squadron Football X1. Each Saturday and quite often on weekdays we played matches against local teams, Cambridge University included. I cannot remember having to withdraw because of operational duties. Numerous stories written about life in Bomber Command tell of boisterous nights in the Officers’ or Sergeants’ Mess but I have no recollection of such events in the Mess at 514. Ground crews and operational personnel built up a great rapport. Each aircraft was meticulously cared for and on many occasions, ground crews waited for the return of "their" aircraft. Should an aircraft fail to return, there was great distress but soon those responsible for maintenance would transfer their allegiance to the replacement aircrew. Christmas Day was an occasion when senior ranks showed their appreciation for the work done by ground staff by serving the midday meal. The Australian members had saved a good portion of their parcels from home to pass on as thanks to our own ground crew. Fruitcake, chocolate bars, tinned fruit and all manner of goods which were hard, almost impossible to obtain in England, were eagerly accepted. Life returned to normal the following day. Christmas 1943 was very cold indeed and all personnel not engaged in other duties were ordered to assist in removing snow from the runways. Surely ops. would not take place that night. After all the hard work, the "Stand Down " was given. Normal flying was resumed on 26th December. Throughout December 1943, January, February and March 1944, the crew continued operational flying. March 30th was the most terrifying night when the city of Nuremberg was the target. Something was drastically wrong as aircraft were shot out of the sky. Over 100 being the victims of anti- aircraft fire and the relentless attacks by enemy fighters. More allied planes were lost on the way back to bases in England. Thackray's crew survived. Triumphs and Disaster Our first operational flight as a crew was to be to Biarritz. In company with ten aircraft from other squadrons in 3 Group, we were to drop mines in the harbour there. Whilst Thack and the rest of the crew carried out flight tests, I worked on the route we were to follow, and how I worked. Nothing could be left to chance! The day passed so very quickly and soon we were sitting down to the pre-op meal. Now we were operational. Parachutes and Mae Wests, fitted we boarded the aircraft. We taxied to the runway and at last received the green. In a few minutes we were airborne. Soon we had reached the English coast and were heading south over France. [page break] There was no sign of the other planes which were supposed to accompany us, but we flew on and on. As yet no enemy aircraft was sighted nor were we troubled by flak. Surely things couldn't be this easy. Biarritz! On time and on target. Where were the others? We circled for a few minutes and as there was still no sign of other planes, we decided to release our mines and turn on course for home. The return flight was no more exciting than the outward journey until we crossed the English coast, where we were immediately picked up by searchlights and directed to the West where we finally landed at Exeter, many miles from Waterbeach! Two things arose from the resultant enquiry. First, we should have received an "operation cancelled" signal before crossing the coast on the outward leg, and secondly we had been mistaken by the Observer Corps for a Wellington on a training flight that had got lost and broadcast a " May Day" signal. The searchlights had carried out the rescue procedure with us instead of them. We finished our first op. accompanied by an armed guard and of course had a tongue lashing from our various section heads. Apologies were forthcoming when the truth of the story finally came out. Berlin was to be our next port of call. My nerves jangled for the whole of the day and I checked and re- checked every part of my pre flight plan. I settled as soon as we were airborne. This is the job I had been trained for during so many long months. What is more, I was responsible for the lives of six others, or so I told myself. Very few words were spoken during the flight. We were all on a knife-edge. Bomb aimer to Skipper, " Target directly ahead." Relief; little of note had occurred on the outward leg and obviously my route planning had been O.K. I did not wish to look at the burning city, I was quite happy to listen to the observations of the crew. We turned on the course for home and Thack let out a horrendous cry! An aircraft was turning immediately ahead. Surely we were not going to end the trip by crashing into a friendly aircraft. In seconds the danger was over but I needed to work out a slight adjustment to our course. From my position I could see nothing but listened to the comments of the others. I was scared, the aircraft shook and rolled but this was simply because we were flying in the stream of other planes. Searchlights groped around the night sky and I could see these. In next to no time Jack was able to report the sighting of the enemy coast and a short time afterwards, the marvellous news that we had crossed the English coast. Soon we were over Waterbeach, home, safe and sound. December 2nd 1943 was a date I shall never forget. Debriefing over, we returned to barracks and turned in. Sleep would not come as I lay thinking of the events of the day. I was not alone for the other crewmembers were also reliving the events of the night of our very first operation over Germany. Chapter 3: ABANDON AIRCRAFT!!! The day was 11th April, the year 1944. Our target was to be a fairly easy trip to Aachen, perhaps our shortest flight over Germany. The usual preparations were made and in the early evening we set course for the target hoping to return well before midnight. All went well and we dropped the bomb load over the city and set course for home. [page break] Disaster struck! The port outer engine caught fire. It seemed that we had been hit by flak, as none of the air gunners had sighted enemy aircraft. Noel ordered us to prepare to abandon which meant that all secret equipment and navigational and wireless codes had to be destroyed. Gunners had to leave their turrets and all had to head for the escape hatches, except of course for Thack. For a few moments we flew on. Clive was doing his utmost to extinguish the blaze and believed that we would be able to continue. The blazing engine fell away. The end was near, as the pilot could no longer keep control. ABANDON AIRCRAFT!! Jack answered at once. Reg reported that his turret would not operate. Jock said that he would try to help Reg, and Clem responded that he too would move to help with the rear turret. Clive was not at all pleased that we were to abandon. As for myself, I headed for the front escape hatch passing both Clive and Thack, who was still at the controls. As I reached the top of the steps, I was astounded to find the escape hatch open, but Jack's parachute pack was still in the container. There was no sign of him! I had no time for further thought, for at that moment the nose of the plane dropped and I found myself trapped by my legs. To this day I do not know what was preventing me from leaving the stricken aircraft. What was I to do? Without any further thought, I pulled the ripcord. I felt a sharp pain in my legs but to my great relief, my ‘chute pulled me clear of the aircraft. I drifted towards the earth, but could see nothing nor could I hear a sound. I prayed to almighty God for his help and cried out for my mother. All this had happened in seconds. I assumed that I was drifting downwards but could not be sure where I was going to land. Crash! I had landed in undergrowth but where? I did not have the slightest idea. Minutes passed, I could feel that my uniform was in tatters and that I was bleeding profusely. Strangely I felt no pain. I heard movement and immediately began crying for help, but was warned to be quiet. Obviously it was not German soldiers in the immediate vicinity. Helping hands picked me up and untied my Mae West; I had responded to training and had by instinct got rid of my parachute silk on hitting the ground. When I awoke I was lying on something very soft, but could not see what it was. My right leg gave me a lot of pain and I ran my hands over it. It seemed to be a peculiar shape. Gradually my hearing improved and I could hear voices in what seemed to be prayer. As yet, I could not see where the sound was coming from, but realised that I was being addressed in English. A doctor had been called and he was advising me that there was nothing he could do to treat my wounds, but that he would make me comfortable until the Germans arrived. A couple of pieces of wood from the garden fence were used to make splints for the leg that had sustained a very bad fracture. My face and hands were washed clean of blood that had come from multiple scratches. After making me comfortable and allowing me to sleep for the remainder of the night the Germans were called. As soon as they arrived the atmosphere changed. What had been a quite room now became a very noisy area indeed. I was to be taken away by them, but it appeared that the family would not permit the enemy to move me from the sofa on which I was [page break] resting. Finally I was carried, still on the sofa, to the waiting lorry. I discovered some 50 years later that the family name was Conen and I had the pleasure of meeting the only surviving member. A GUEST OF THE GERMAN NAVY Somewhere around teatime, my guards deposited me at a hospital staffed by German navy personnel. I was well scrubbed and put into a nice clean bed. A meal of Black bread, cheese from a tube and the foulest tasting coffee was given to me. All the time I was eating, sailors wandered by to take a look at the English captive. My next real visit was from a medical officer who explained that there would be a need to operate on my leg in the next few hours. He was quite friendly and was in no way what I had expected. Maybe this was part of the softening-up process I had been warned to expect in those briefing sessions in training. Some time later I was taken to the operating theatre and knew no more until I woke up in a private room with a large picture window on the left and a pair of doors to the right of my bed. There I lay, with my leg in traction but with no sign of a plaster cast. A large iron framework kept the sheets from weighing on my legs. Looking further to my right I saw a German sailor standing guard inside the doors and beyond him, another sailor, both with fixed bayonets! I was told afterwards that these guards were there to keep Belgian people out, for there was no way I could possibly escape. What lay ahead of me? Meals were delivered on time and once I had become used to the black bread and acorn coffee, the rest of my diet was quite pleasant. Strangely enough, I felt very little pain and I was able to see quite well. After a few days my Rosary was returned to me and it transpired that one of my guards was a Catholic. Now we had a talking point, but he was not particularly interested in teaching me German, but wished to improve his English so that he would be able to converse with English citizens when Germany defeated England! Sign language was used more often than words in the first instance, but we got along very well indeed. At first, time passed pretty quickly. When night fell I would listen for the sound of allied aircraft passing overhead and try to work out where they might be going, by working out the time that elapsed between the inward and outward journey. Sometimes an airman would be brought in to occupy the second bed in the room, and I would become updated with the progress of the war. Sadly, there was seldom a time when any of these new aircrew members stayed longer than one day. As the weather outside improved I began to yearn for a move to somewhere among English speaking prisoners. I was aware that there were no prisoners from the allied forces in the hospital in which I was being treated. Early in June, fighter activity began to increase quite dramatically and the air raid sirens were often sounded. Each time this happened my guards disappeared and I soon found out that part of their duties was to man part of the air defences. I cannot remember the date, but one evening, I noticed that the night sky was rapidly illuminated with brightly coloured flares. This could only mean one thing - the area was to be the target for that night ! ! ! I was right. Sirens wailed and anti-aircraft guns blasted away at the allied aircraft. Soon, bombs began to fall and I heard explosion after explosion. Surely I was not going to be a victim of action [page break] by the R.A.F? Soon I had my answer for my bedroom shook and glass windows broke. The noise was horrendous and because of my situation, I could take no action whatever to hide away or to reach shelter. Just as I pulled the bed sheets over my head, I felt an almighty crash and wondered what the outcome of this was going to be. Gradually the noise subsided and soon I was able to risk turning down the sheets. The window and doorframes were lying across the cage that protected my legs, and I saw searchlight beams and ack- ack bursts. THE CEILING HAD COLLAPSED! ! ! ! I was alive but terrified. What would happen to me now? One of my guards visited to check on my condition, but it was some hours before I was made aware of the extent of the damage caused by the raid. My room was reasonably sound when compared to the rest of the hospital. A Change of Surroundings. As the morning passed, I could hear the sound of rescue crews moving about the hospital grounds. Now and then there would be an almighty crash as a building toppled. Fires burned brightly and soot fell, making my once white bed linen look very dirty indeed. I thought for a time about the times when I had been bombed back in England and how enemy fighters had attempted to destroy the barrage-balloon sites on which I served, but I am afraid it gave me little comfort. There I had been among friends, but now I was among enemies. How would they re-act to the night's events? I was soon to find out. From the background of soot and smoke, there appeared the figure of one of the surgeons who had cared for me over the previous weeks. His apron was bloodstained, and in his hand he held a scalpel, likewise covered in blood! What was he going to do to me? He soon put my mind at rest and after referring to the air-raid being carried out by my friends, he told me that although I should be in traction for a further four weeks, there was nothing that could be done but to remove the pin and other items, and transfer me as quickly as possible to another hospital. No sooner said than done! I just had to grit my teeth, hold tight and the job was done. A lorry was drawn up to the ruin and a stretcher was brought from somewhere, and I was loaded aboard for my journey, no guards this time. Off we went, sometimes dodging the potholes, but more often than not there would be an almighty jolt as we hit what I presumed was a crater. Suddenly the stretcher left the floor of the vehicle and I was deposited on to the boards. I felt more pain than I had felt since leaving the aircraft, but try as I may, I could not get the attention of the driver. Another gritting of teeth until we reached our destination, which turned out to be a "Rest Home" for German officers. I got little sympathy and was informed that there was not the facility to deal with my new injury, which was a re-fractured femur; the fall had undone the work that had been done. Soon, I was on my way again to another hospital, somewhere in Brussels. I was hungry, dirty and in quite some pain, but at last I reached my new home. The hospital sister was not at all pleased at the state I was in. She was unaware of what I had been through and commented that surely no soldier would set out on a mission in the dirty state that I was in. "Stand up and follow me to the bathroom," she said. Only when I had convinced her that my leg was broken did she realise the predicament I was [page break] in. Immediately her attitude changed. She became an angel and remained so for the rest of my stay. Now spotlessly clean, I was placed in a bed in a barrack room along with twenty or so captured allied aircrew, and learned that I was in an annexe to a German military hospital in the centre of Brussels. They were not too happy to hear that I had been captured several weeks earlier, and thus could not give news of the allied advance through France. To be honest, I was pleased to know that our forces were on their way. My next information was that I would have twenty-four hours to talk about my predicament and then the subject would be taboo. My "Angel" returned to prepare me for an operation on my right femur. She explained the whole process and commented on how lucky I was going to be to have a leading surgeon carrying out a recent technique, to put my bone together again (I have since learned that the procedure was known as The Kuetschner Nail Method). Off we went to the theatre, and the surgeon began his task. He was far from happy when I yelled with pain! I had felt his scalpel cut into my upper leg!! Initially he did not believe me, but quickly realised that the spinal anaesthetic had not done its work. At once he took steps to remedy the matter and my next memory was that of waking up in bed, again in traction, and being cared for by a young lady in white. Was I in heaven? No, I was back in the P.O.W. ward. The following morning, the operating surgeon came to check on my well-being and to apologise for the slip up of the previous day. He told me that the operation had gone well and that I would be in traction for approximately twelve weeks. Where had I heard that before? Now I was able to learn about my fellow prisoners and to catch up on the progress of hostilities. My colleagues were from all parts of the Commonwealth, U.S.A and France, and there was even a prisoner with Russian nationality. Their injuries were of many kinds. Severe burns, broken limbs and some had limbs that had been amputated. I was only a small player. Chapter 4: ON THE MOVE AGAIN Many and varied were the tales my fellow patients had to tell. One especially, bears repeating. After the aircraft had been hit, the radio-operator had moved to leave his position when the aircraft broke up and he was left hanging from a piece of wreckage, but he was still wearing his helmet with the inter-com plug connected. His parachute opened and pulled him from the aircraft but not before he had removed the plug. Suddenly the unit gave way and the cord from the headset caught in the lines of the `chute. He landed unable to move. He arrived at the hospital fully conscious and able to speak but it was quite a few weeks before he was able to use any of his limbs. Part of his recovery programme was to attempt using a concertina. The last time I saw him, he was still struggling. Each new arrival brought news of the progress of Allied forces; often their stories were very much different from the propaganda given out by the German radio, and the tales told by the staff of the hospital. The weeks passed quickly, and as August approached, the sound of heavy gunfire increased. The news from Belgian workpeople was that the allies were now close to Brussels. [page break] Each day we waited for good news but it seemed to us that movement had come to a halt. Perhaps the forward push had ceased or the powers that be had decided to by-pass the capital. On the 6th September, we had a visit from the senior officer of the hospital staff. He was ready to leave us in the hospital if the senior British officer would sign a document stating that we had been treated well during our captivity. We were overjoyed and were 100% ready to agree! The day passed agonisingly slowly and the night was full of the noise of artillery fire. There was nowhere for us to find shelter so we hid our concern by singing the tunes of the time. As dawn broke, the sound of gunfire decreased and the sky was red with flame. Surely we would be recaptured in an hour or two! The doors of the annexe burst open and a number of German troops appeared. To our horror they wore the uniform of the S.S. Thoughts of being recaptured were dashed as the officer in command refused to accept the document signed the previous day. The walking wounded were ushered away and the bedridden lifted into wheelchairs. I was released from my traction, given a set of crutches and told to make my way to the bus, which was waiting. I soon had the knack of using crutches for the S.S. were in no mood to hang about. When it was clear that there were no other Allied prisoners left in the hospital, the bus moved off and we turned into the main square where we saw the Palais de Justice burning fiercely. There seemed to be thousands of troops moving about and heading out of the city. Slowly, yard-by-yard, we passed among the crowds, and at last reached the road signposted "VENLO". We were on our way to Holland but much was to happen before we reached our goal. The roads were packed with retreating German troops and fleeing Belgian citizens. Every available type of transport was being used to leave the capital, and there was barely enough space to pass that which had already broken down. Dead animals littered the roadside. Horses lay with their feet in the air, dead either from attack from the air or just sheer exhaustion. Broken down vehicles littered the highway, their owners frantically seeking alternative means of escape. This was organised retreat? Suddenly, above the din, we heard the sound of fighter aircraft and then recognised the planes as Typhoons, not only that but our Senior British Officer made us aware that they were from his own squadron!!! Within seconds the pilots began their attack on the fleeing troops and it was plain that we were not to be spared. The bus stopped, but our guards would not allow us to dismount and seek shelter. They were armed and we were not but the S.B.O. took his life in his hands and hurled himself at the nearest guard who immediately dropped his rifle and, together with his colleague, left the vehicle. We helped one another off the bus and headed for farm buildings nearby. The pigs were hastily evicted and we took their places. The sty was strongly built and we felt a good deal safer. Three of the walking wounded decided that this was an ideal opportunity to attempt an escape. I know for certain that one, Sgt. W. Durland was successful, for his story was told in the records of 514 Squadron which was my own squadron. I have not heard the outcome of the others who made the attempt. At last the aircraft broke off their attack and we were ordered to re-board the bus which was undamaged and we noticed that there was no Red Cross insignia, Squadron [page break] Leader Brannigan was not too sure that a red cross would have made very much difference to the attack, as the bus was slap in the centre of the fleeing convoy. Slowly we moved on again. The damage reeked on the fleeing army was horrendous and one could only feel pity for the wounded and dying, as each person in the convoy seemed bent on one task - to reach shelter and perhaps safety. As the day drew to a close, we felt a little safer, for we were aware that fighter aircraft would not operate in the dark and bombers would be too expensive to use against targets such as a fleeing convoy. It was quite dark when we drew into the suburbs of Venlo, but we now came under attack from Dutch citizens who thought that we were German soldiers being carried away from the front-line. Fortunately no great damage was done and at last we were deposited at a Convent near the centre of the town. Our first thought was, "When are we going to get something to eat?" and then we became puzzled as to why we had been taken to the very top floor of the Convent. The second question was answered by the Mother Superior who informed us that the senior German officer in the town did not want the responsibility of looking after us, perhaps if we remained hidden on the top floor advancing German troops would pass us by. You will remember we had heard a similar tale before. For four days we remained hidden. We had reasonable food and excellent facilities. Perhaps this time we would be recaptured. It was not to be. On the morning of the fifth day, one of our number decided to investigate the troop noises in the street below. Sadly his appearance on the balcony was noticed by the civilian population below. They waved and he acknowledged their greeting, but was spotted by a soldier who was passing by. It had to be a member of the S.S.! Within minutes, we were taken into the grounds of the convent and I believe that the others felt as I did, we were going to be executed !!! To our great relief, this did not happen. A few hours later we were put aboard railway wagons to be transported into Germany. INTO THE THIRD REICH At the railway station, we were kept strictly apart from the civilian travellers who were boarding trains for various parts of Germany, and we were ushered towards a row of cattle trucks standing in a siding. The doors at the side of the trucks were open and we could see barbed wire, which was stretched across the width of the truck separating the interior into two sections. On the left were a number of palliasses, and to the right a cast iron wood burning stove and three bunks. We realised that this was to be our mode of transport for the next leg of our journey. The guards occupied the section with the stove and we were to travel in the other section, but where we were heading, no-one would tell us. We came to the conclusion that our trip was not going to be a long one, for there was no food or drink aboard. The doors slammed shut; we heard the locks on our side being closed and then we were on our way. There were eight of us, and three very old men acting as guards. It was very dark and the soldiers had no wish to converse just yet but as we moved into the countryside, we learned that the men were really "Home Guards" and were terrified of authority, and for some reason, equally terrified of us. We had been classified as dangerous prisoners! [page break] Uncomfortable as it was we gradually fell asleep, only to be woken up by a string of German oaths and the sight of one of the guards frantically trying to beat out the flames coming from his very long ersatz overcoat. He had got too near the stove, which was now glowing in the dark. His companions came to his aid, and soon all was quiet, except for the injured guard who was now afraid of his fate when he came to the end of his journey and would have to report the incident. There was nothing we could do to help treat his burns, for we were separated from him by the barbed wire screen. As evening approached, the following day we pulled into a siding and the doors were opened. We had not travelled far as we could hear voices calling, "Dusseldorf! Dusseldorf”- this was our destination. We dismounted and after a few moments, our party was separated into two groups, the RA.F. to one side and the U.S.A.A.F to the other. The American section was put aboard a bus and immediately moved from the station. We never saw them again. As for us, we boarded a truck and moved out of the city. The journey to our destination did not take very long and we eventually stopped at a camp which we soon realised was a Workers Camp. It was divided into four compounds, which housed French, Italian, Polish and Russian citizens who were forced to work in the locality. Our quarters were to be in the French section and a few hours after our arrival, we were allocated three Russian prisoners to serve our every need. It was not too long before we realised that there was a definite pecking order at the camp. After the Germans, the French were the pampered race. The Italians came next, followed by the Polish inmates and a very very long way behind came the Russians. Germans did not stand guard over the Russian compound, they left that to the Polish group and the Russian group provided the guard for the Polish compound ! ! At this stage we found it very difficult to comprehend the attitude of the Germans towards the Russian and the Polish people, after all, we had not been subject to the rule of the Nazi regime, and as yet, had met none of the cruelty meted out to the races they, the Germans, had conquered. Not many days were to pass before we saw examples of such cruelty, and it was with disbelieve that we saw Russian captives digging holes in the ground, into which they placed their dead comrades. At least the Polish dead were given a decent burial service, and had fellow countrymen saying a prayer or two at the graveside and in some cases, placing a small wooden cross to mark the spot where the internment had taken place. Why were there so many deaths among these two races? The Russian captives would be given food only if they carried out a day's work and this explained why they were so eager to be our "servants". The food we gave them was perhaps sufficient to keep them alive for a few days longer, and even to build up their strength to resume the work they were ordered to carry out for their German captors, so obtaining further rations. It was so sad to witness the actions of these poor creatures when they scrambled for a cigarette end, a crust of bread or any other morsels discarded by us. They took enormous risks to find a hole in the barbed wire, through which they’d visit our quarters and offer to carry out the most menial tasks for a very meagre reward. [page break] Our next concern was more to do with ourselves, we seemed to be receiving rather a lot of French Red Cross parcels and the British parcels were turning up in the French section, but were issued to French workers. Really it was the shortage of English cigarettes and chocolate that triggered the enquiry. The British Red Cross parcel was superior in every way to the French one, and the contents much greater in both calorific value and for the purposes of bartering. At the meeting we held with the French quartermaster, we discovered that the French believed that, as they were used as workers by the Germans, they were entitled to the better products in the British parcel. It must be noted here that Senior N.C.O.s and Officers were not obliged to work for the enemy and very rarely did so. The plight of the other inmates in the camp was not considered by the French. The atmosphere was somewhat strained for the next couple of weeks and I think both sides were happy when it became known that the R.A.F. were to be moved on, again no hint of our destination was given. The day of our departure arrived and I was asked by the Medical Officer in the camp to forego my crutches and use sticks in future. With some hesitation I acceded to his request and was able to walk out of the compound. We were ferried to the station at Dusseldorf and saw a city devastated by bombing. The majority of the workers in the repair gangs were women, and we discovered that these were Russian. They looked wretched. Armed guards surrounded the area in which they were working. Quickly we boarded the cattle trucks, which were similar to those in which we had travelled from Venlo. This time there were no incidents. Eventually we disembarked at a town called Menningen in the district of Thuringia. Our home was to be in a beautiful Opera House, which had been stripped of its finery to accommodate large numbers of P.O.W.s. The residents were for the most part captives from the Arnheim operation, but there were also many aircrew held in the wire compounds. Entertainment seemed to be the order of the day. Impromptu concerts seemed to take place daily, added to which was the opportunity to view a group of circus performers who were camped outside the fence. Somehow, they seemed to have dodged the call-up. Food was of the highest quality, or maybe we were now becoming used to taste of ersatz; ersatz that was frequently embellished with the contents of Red Cross parcels. Almost daily the number of prisoners grew and it became obvious that some would soon have to be moved on, but no one really wished to go. Despite the overcrowding, the camp was reasonably comfortable. Perhaps this was because it was classed as a re-habilitation unit. It was with some regret that we took the journey to the station, there to board compartments of an ordinary passenger train but still guarded by Home Guards. It was night time when we neared Frankfurt, and the train was diverted into a siding as an air raid was taking place on the city. We disembarked at around ten a.m., and as we left the platform, we were attacked by German citizens who wanted revenge for the raid which had taken place the previous evening. Who could really blame them? Our guards fixed bayonets and eventually drove [page break] the angry people away. Not all were happy to leave, and some followed the tramcar, which was to take us to the interrogation centre just outside the town. Bricks rattled against the coachwork. Metal bars were used to smash windows, but our guards stuck to their task and we escaped without injury. Chapter 5: STALAG LUFT 1XC KRAYSBURG The dreaded DULAG LUFT !!! So often the subject of talks back in Britain. Here we could expect to be questioned on the activities of the R.A.F. and secret equipment of the Allied Forces. We had been instructed to provide only our Service number, Rank and Name and under no circumstances to enter into any discussion. At once we were placed in cells which had only a bed on which was a straw palliasse, and by the door a device to attract the attention of the guards when the "Call of Nature" came. This gadget was used frequently so keeping the guards busy, they were not happy about this ploy to keep them on the move and the language they used to describe the prisoners was pretty choice. A childish prank but effective. Messages in Morse code were tapped out on the walls between cells and on pipe work, but the contents were not within my knowledge of the Morse code even though the use of the code had been part of the navigator's course. Food was very poor. As the first day in solitary confinement drew to a close I realised that this was the first time I had really been alone since my capture, I was on my own. There was no window in the room that I occupied, so I tried to get to sleep and to prepare myself for the interrogation I was to face very soon now. Would it be as testing as I had been led to believe back in England? The heat in the cell was overbearing and there was practically no ventilation, so it was no great surprise that I slept very fitfully and by morning I was not a very happy P.O.W. The introduction to the camp was so weird. Between the entrance gate and the outer fence were a number of small wooden structures that looked exactly like dog-kennels, and each one of us was told to creep into one of these leaving our kit outside. There we remained for some time until ordered out again and told to retrieve the items that had been left outside. Next we were given a number and admitted into the main compound. The number was that of the barrack room we would occupy for the time we would be at the camp. There was a reception committee and a barrage of questions about the progress of hostilities, but alas, there was little we could add to what they already knew for the majority, had been captured much later than we had. At last there was time to look around the room. It contained four sets of bunk beds, each with a paper palliasse filled with straw, supported by a few wooden boards. A small cupboard took up the space at the side of each set of beds. Near one wall was a cast iron stove with a chimney disappearing through the ceiling. Strung between the walls, were lines of string on which hung articles of clothing that had recently been washed. A shuttered window took [page break] up part of the remaining wall. It did not take long for me to be introduced to my room mates and to be advised which "mess" I would join. Next I was told of procedures and the daily routine of the camp. In no time at all I was asleep. "Raus!! Raus!!" Such a banging and clattering, it was time to rise, dress and present our selves for roll call. What a motley collection! There we stood in ranks of five, lined up on three sides of the huge open square. German soldiers counted us five by five and informed the senior N.C.O. of the total number present. On a cold, bleak day this procedure lasted for no longer than 20 minutes but when weather conditions were good all sorts of pranks were played to keep the prison staff employed for anything up to two hours. Each block was allocated a time for taking a shower-cold- and once each week there was the luxury of a hot shower if you managed to get a place at the head of the queue. On odd occasions clothes could be bagged and passed through a steam plant but this procedure was not popular as clothes tended to shrink so the cold water wash was the most sought after. The food we were served was appalling but we were informed that it was the same as that served to equivalent ranks in the German Forces, this was very difficult to accept and it made us eternally thankful for the extra items we received in the Red Cross parcels now regularly provided. Perhaps it would be beneficial to mention what the parcels contained. A British parcel would have in it basic items for providing nourishment, such as tinned bacon, tinned sausages, tinned margarine, dried milk, chocolate, prunes and a supply of cigarettes and other sundry items. An American parcel would contain similar articles but the sausages would be replaced by Spam and there would be a larger tin of dried milk, the prunes would be replaced by raisins and in addition there would be toilet soap, much loved by the Germans and so very useful for trading purposes. A Canadian parcel would be a mixture of the two, and parcels from France and the Commonwealth would generally be in a bulk delivery and passed to the kitchen for general use. The cardboard, string and empty tins were hoarded and used for many, many purposes. It was truly amazing what could be done by tradesmen who enjoyed practising their civilian skills in the re-cycling of tins etc. Empty "Klini" tins were just the right size to fit the chimney of the stove and gradually the stove would be extended to-wards the middle or the floor so enabling more people to benefit from the heat generated, unfortunately, just when the stove had reached the centre, the German guards would organise an S.S. visit and not only the stove would be dismantled but many items were confiscated, and food that had been carefully stored, scattered and made quite unfit to eat. In retrospect it seems a futile pastime but at the time, it was a question of trying to outwit the enemy. Day by day the camp became an organised society. Rules of behaviour were drawn up and strictly adhered to, this was very necessary for the well being of all concerned. Educational sessions became the norm and talks and lectures provided an additional interest for those not interested in studying for examinations, the results of which would be accepted on return [page break] to the UK Again materials and exam papers were provided by the Red Cross. Entertainment was a must. Regular concerts were organised and again the inmates showed great prowess in making scenery and costumes from "bits and pieces". News of the progress of hostilities was produced from I know not where, but there was a clandestine radio in use. Bulletins were issued on a daily basis, and of course, each new batch of prisoners was questioned on initial admission to the camp. At the beginning of December, the weather changed for the worse. Snow fell and the temperatures dropped alarmingly. The walks which had been taken daily, now became runs but physical effort burned up energy and food supplies were not good, however, a supply of ice skates arrived, and soon work started on constructing a makeshift ice rink. The Canadians among us were overjoyed as gradually the rink took shape. Promises of skating lessons were made and for a few days hunger was forgotten. Christmas would soon be with us and of course an entertainment to beat all previous efforts was to be produced. A few days before these marvellous dreams were to become reality, there was the sound of aircraft overhead, not British, not German, but on closer examination, these were found to be Russian planes. What was happening? The news bulletins had said nothing of this but it now became obvious by the behaviour of the German troops that something was amiss. We were ordered to leave the outdoor areas whenever an air-raid siren sounded. Sadly, one airman lost his life when he re-acted too slowly to this order. Perhaps the reader can imagine the tension that now built up within the camp. Few were brave enough to leave the barrack blocks and arrangements had to be made to ensure that those bringing food from the cookhouse were not made targets, should a raid occur on the journey. The number housed had been increased because places had to be found for new inmates that now included Glider pilots, victims of the raid on Arnhem. Twelve bodies now filled the space previously used by four. It was essential that discipline was maintained and thanks to previous training , it was. A few days passed and the sound of heavy artillery was heard. There was little doubt that the Russian forces were not too far away. Were they aware that we were in the area? My mind went back to the advance on Brussels and the hope we had of being released. No promises were made this time. We received orders to gather our scant belongings together and prepare for a long trek to a camp within the German border. No transport would be available and the snow was still very deep. How would we survive? Makeshift rucksacks were made as were sleds that would carry food and equipment during the coming days. Some acted in groups but the majority elected to be responsible for their own future. Christmas Day 1944. The gates of the camp were opened and we set out on our journey. The guards took up their positions either side of the column, thankful that they were not being left to face the advancing Russian forces. No longer were we the enemy, but a means of escape into the Fatherland. [page break] Not many hours had passed when we realised that civilians had joined the column. Old men, women and children, all striving to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the enemy. They were terrified that they would become prisoners of those who their own propaganda had warned were little better than animals. It was not long before mothers asked us to care for their children, and overnight, we found that we had been left with several young boys and girls, hoping that they would be safe with us. Obviously this was not possible, and at the first village we reached, we made provision for them to be transported by the German authorities. I often wondered what became of those children. The greatest barrier we faced was at the River Oder. There was a town on our route -0ppeln- but we would not be passing through this town, but would walk across the frozen river. Now we were in Germany proper. The next stop on our journey would be the huge camp at Llamsdorf. This camp had been used as a camp during World War I. Now it was home to thousands of prisoners of every nationality where Germans had occupied the country of origin. Chapter 6: LLAMSDORF AND BEYOND. This camp filled me with foreboding. It was huge and the inmates looked so intimidating as they took their daily exercise. Gaunt figures in clothing which had seen better days, faces deeply etched showing that they had not had quite so comfortable a time as we who had just joined them. Many had spent several years in Llamsdorf and were looking towards the final days of captivity. We soon learnt that although the appearances were poor there was still spirit and determination within the wire. The family atmosphere of Kraysburg was absent but the organisation necessary to provide a reasonable code of conduct was definitely in place. The quarters I was allocated were cold and damp; the only heating coming from the personnel living in the cramped space. Personal hygiene was not of a very high standard and the attitude of my companions bordered on hopelessness. My thoughts turned towards getting myself moved to some other section of the camp where life would not seem so dreary. I was not prepared for events of the next few days. As at Kraysburg, a make shift open-air ice-rink had been constructed and tiered seating had been installed. Obviously not all had the same approach as my room-mates. Crowds gathered in the freezing air to watch an ice hockey game between a Canadian side and a side made up of various nationalities. It was exciting and many looked forward to further contests as well as using the rink simply for amusement. I was granted my move, but after only a few hours, was ordered to pack what few possessions I had and join a group of sick and lame colleagues for onward transfer. Enquiries revealed that our small group was being transferred to yet another camp where we would be medically examined to determine whether or not we were suitable for repatriation. A couple of hours train journey took us to a camp specifically for army N.C.O's. The rest of the day was spent preparing ourselves for inspection when we appeared before the panel of Swiss Red Cross Medical Officers who would decide our future. Would I be repatriated? "No!" was the short answer but I would remain at the new camp. Here was a camp where 90% of the inmates had been captive since Dunkirk. The [page break] organisation was superb! Units in which I had been stationed back in the U.K. were not any better than this. I am sad to say that I cannot remember the name of this camp. Every inmate seemed to want to help the newcomer. Of course this could not last. This had been the story of my life for almost a year. The Russians were coming. This time I was able to ready myself for the next move. We were advised to gather in groups of four and to ensure that there was not more than one "Disabled" person in each group. When all was ready we evacuated the camp and set off to face what was to be a pretty horrific experience. During the daylight hours we rested in pine forests or on farms on our route south. At night we walked and walked and walked. This arrangement was made so that our winding columns would not be mistaken for marching German troops and so become targets for any roving aircraft. Whenever possible we would stock up on food. Crops would be raided and farmyard animals killed to provide sustenance for hungry mouths. I was appointed quartermaster for our small group mainly because I was not ruthless enough to carry out the pilfering necessary to sustain the four of us, whereas the others had become skilled in the art during the long years of working on German farms and in factories. I was most fortunate and shall be eternally grateful to my colleagues. After several weeks of "marching" we arrived at a railway siding and were ordered to board cattle trucks for the next leg of the journey. Forty men and their equipment to each truck!!!! How degrading this was cannot be imagined. Toilet facilities were none existent and as each stretch of the journey was carried out during the hours of darkness, it was such a relief when dawn came and the doors to the truck were opened. Cold though the weather was, there was no hesitation should there be a stream nearby. The first task was to wash and prepare for the next night's journey. Now there was not a supply of Red Cross parcels and we relied upon the rations provided by our captors, these were very meagre indeed. Tempers frayed but astonishingly there was no pilfering of supplies. After almost three weeks travelling back and forth across the operating rail system we came to a halt at a major railway station. PRAGUE! Much to our surprise we received hot soup from ladies who were the equivalent of the W.V.S. and we were allowed to draw water from the boiler of the engine to make tea (those who still possessed tea leaves), but sadly, our stomachs could not cope with the intake of potato soup and brackish water, many P.O.W's were very sick indeed. Another day passed and once again we journeyed along the rail system until there was just nowhere to go by rail. Trucks were unloaded and prisoners and their guards set off over the countryside. At about this time the older guards were taken away to bolster the army elsewhere and their places taken by schoolboys enlisted in the Hitler Youth Movement. The situation was very delicate as the majority of these young boys were fanatical in their hatred of the enemies of the Reich. Time and time again they treated their prisoners cruelly and took little notice of the older members of the guard. On at least two occasions, prisoners were killed because of their failure to respond quickly to instructions from some youngster. When a batch of Red Cross parcels appeared there was increased tension as these were strictly for distribution to captives, and the new guards were [page break] loathe to hand the parcels over. Common sense prevailed and the daily routine continued. On and on we roamed unaware of our destination or indeed the final outcome. An overnight stay at a camp near Munich, too crowded to receive any other bodies, simply helped to fix our position and to receive news of the progress of the war. A few more days and our section of the column was ordered to stay in a primary school building in the Austrian village of Kirschberg. Now we were in the American battle area. We settled into our new billet under the watchful eyes of the local population, and slept through the sound of gunfire and raiding aircraft. Dawn broke and there was no sign of guards of any age. Walking out of the school I saw many inhabitants walking towards a church nearby and on enquiring whose feast day it was, I received the answer, " The war is over." On the 7th May 1945 a troop of American soldiers appeared and gave the official news. They left sufficient food and other items to supply a small army. With great care born out of weeks of shortage, we divided the rations and prepared to be taken to an Allied base. It was such a strange feeling to be free to wander where we pleased. There was an airfield at Strauben a few miles away and it was towards this that we headed, only to find that every aircraft had been destroyed and so were unfit for our use. Nothing for it, but to wait for the U.S. Army to return and arrange for us to be transferred the United Kingdom. The food we had been given was strange to us, the white, fluffy bread and real butter seemed to be so unappetising after the rough rations we had become used to. Almost a week passed before an army truck arrived, and our journey home began. Our destination was the airfield at Rheims in France and on arrival, we saw several Lancasters with crews. These were to be the means by which we would finally make the journey home. Groups of ex- prisoners were allocated to each aircraft, told to hang on to anything they could and in a very short time we would land at an RA.F. base at Wing. Once again there was disappointment for my group. The Navigator for the aircraft had "gone missing". Wasn't I a Navigator? The pilot was quite prepared to trust my ability to map read until he could pick up radio contact. So, away we went and each occupant of the aircraft was allowed in turn to visit the flight deck and view the white cliffs of Dover as we approached England. After landing at Wing we were escorted to a huge marquee where we suffered the indignity of being fumigated, given a cursory medical examination and then the luxury of a very hot shower. Almost three and a half stones lighter and almost unrecognisable from the person who had left on the disastrous trip to Aachen - I was home. Chapter 7: FIFTY YEARS ON. The next two years were somewhat confused. I was still a Navigator but, because of the injuries I had received, I was no longer considered medically fit to resume flying duties. Added to this the R.A.F. had a surfeit of flying personnel, now that hostilities had ceased. What was I to do? I had no desire to serve as a member of ground staff. I chose to accept discharge. [page break] I attempted to contact the families of my crew but had little success. Only one person replied to my letters. It was to be some fifty years before contact was made and this came about in strange circumstances. In 1990 I attended a Squadron Re-union at Waterbeach and was asked if I had any item which could be displayed in a Museum which was to be housed at the airfield, now the home of the Royal Engineers. I felt that my P.O.W. Idenitity Card would be of some interest among the stories and photographs of operational sorties. Little did I know that this exhibit was going to open up again the search for relatives of my crew! On the 27th October 1992, Mr. Clive Hill, who was the nephew of Clive Banfield, our Flight Engineer, visited the museum in his search for information concerning the flying career of his late uncle. As he was leaving the building he spotted the Identity Card and at once realised that, as only one 514 Lancaster did not return on the 11th April 1944, the person in the picture must be the sole survivor he had been trying to find. Several letters and telephone calls resulted in a meeting being arranged at my home on 6th April, 1993. Contact was established with Bill Thackray in Australia, and soon family members of other crew members had been found. Despite all Clive's efforts, there was no trace of the Wireless Operator or the relief Navigator. In May, 1995 Bill Thackray and his wife Hazel, travelled to Europe and spent some time visiting the War Cemetery where the six members of Lancaster LL639 were interred. They too visited the Museum and called on us at Worksop. It was possible for Clive to join us and, of course, I was able to enlighten them regarding the fateful night, 11th April 1944. Many relevant questions were asked and answered and it was resolved that we would be keeping in touch from that day forth. For the following two years, Clive continued with his research of the incident. He spared no effort in obtaining data regarding the incident and produced an account of the last hours of the aircraft and crew, finally drawing the whole story together in a highly illustrated book, "Investigation into the loss of 514 Squadron Lancaster II LL639 on 11th April 1944." His research had taken him to the village of Molenbeersel in Belgium where he met the remaining member of the Conen family who had been so kind to me and several others, who had witnessed the crash or had been young children at the time and heard the story from their parents. Obviously the matter could not rest at that and soon arrangements were in hand to erect a memorial to ensure the incident would not be forgotten - A site was cleared and the villagers built a structure to house a plaque concerning the event. The date for the dedication was set and Mrs. Hill (the sister of Clive Banfield), her husband, myself and my wife, Clive and Judith and several residents were present at the dedication. Nothing was too much trouble for the people of the area who were still full of praise for those who had released them from the strain of the years of the Second World War. The friendship formed over that weekend has not been allowed to lapse. The inscription on the plaque reads: THIS MEMORIAL WAS ERECTED AS A TRIBUTE TO: [page break] P/O N.W.F. THACKRAY PILOT RAAF SGT. C.W. BANFIELD FLIGHT ENGINEER RAFVA SGT. R HUGHES WIRELESS OPERATOR RAFVR F/SGT. J.R. MOULSDALE AIR BOMBER RAAF F/SGT. C.H. HENN M.U. GUNNER RAAF F/SGT. R.E BROMLEY R. GUNNER RAAF WHO DIED WHEN THEIR AIRCRAFT - LANCASTER LL639 OF 514 SQUADRON RAF CRASHED AT THIS SITE ON 11 APRIL 1944 RETURNING FROM A NIGHT BOMBING RAID TO AACHEN ERECTED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE SOLE SURVIVOR SGT. E.L. HUMES NAVIGATOR RAF AND MRS A.G. HILLSISTER OF THE FLIGHT ENGINEER 'NIL OBSTARE POTEST’ 11 JULY 1990 PRISONERS OF WAR 514 SQUADRON F/Sgt. J.D. ALFORD 2/12/43 BERLIN R.A.A.F. F/O. S. BAXTER 3/8/44 BAL DE CASSON R.A.A.F. Sgt. A.J. BLACKSHAW 2/2/45 WEISBADEN FALL J.M.J. BOIJRKE 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. M.J. BOURNE 12/6/44 GELSENKERSCHEN Sgt. F.W. BROWN 11/5/44 LOUVAIN Sgt. J. BREWER 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG F/Sgt D.R. BURNS 11/9/44 KAMEN Sgt. G.H. BURRIDGE 2/2/45 WEISBADEN F/Sgt. F.J. CAREY 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. J. S. CAREY 30/1/44 BERLIN F/O J.E.S. CLARE 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. J. CLARKE 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. F. COLLINGWOOD MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. P.G. COOPER 12/6/44 GELSENKIRCHEN F/Sgt. H.J. COSGROVE 30/3/44 NUREMBERG P/O A.B. CUNNINGHAM 11/5/44 LOUVAIN R.N.Z.A.F Sgt S. G. CUTTLER 21/1/44 MAGDEBERG P/O H.G. DARBY 30/3/44 NUREMBERG F/Sgt G. DAVIS 20/12/43 FRANKFURT F/O K.D. DEANS 22/3/44 FRANKFURT Sgt. E.G. DURLAND 12/8/44 RUSSELSHEIM W/O W.E. EGRI 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN R.C.A.F. [page break] F/O F.J. EISBERG 21/11/44 HOMBURG Sgt. W.H. ELLIS 21/11/44 HOMBURG F.O. M.S.C. EMERY 2/12/43 BERLIN F/O G.C. FRANCE 21/11/44 HOMBURG Sgt. R. GALLOWAY 2/12/43 BERLIN F/Sgt E.F. GARLAND 28/7/44 STUTTGART R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. H. GILMORE 3/ 8/44 BOIS de CASSAN Sgt. G.F. GOOD 11/9/44 KAMEN F/Sgt R.L. GULLIFORD 30/1/44 BERLIN F/Sgt. B.S. HAINES 18/11/43 MANNHEIM R.A.A.F F/Sgt A.D. HALL 30/ 3/44 NUREMBERG R.N.Z.A.F. F/Lt. G.H.D. HINDE 2/12/43 BERLIN S. Rhodesia Sgt P. S. HOARE 22/3/44 FRANKFURT Sgt. G.M. HOLT 12/8/44 RUSSELSHEIM F.O. P.J.K. HOOD 30/3/44 BERLIN F/Sgt. E.L. HUMES 11/4/44 AACHEN T. Sgt. M.G. LANTHIER 30/3/44 BERLIN U.S.A.A.F. P.O. LWC. LEWIS 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. R.B. McALLISTER 23/4/44 BERLIN R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. J.R Mc.CLENAGHAN 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. C.G.E. McDONALD 30/3/44 NUREMBURG R.C.A.F. F/Sgt A. Mc. PHEE 30/3/44 NUREMBURG F.O. W.D. Mc. PHEE 22/3/44 FRANKFURT R.C.A.F. F/Sgt. C.D. MEDLAND 21/5/44 DUISBERG F/Sgt. J.E.MALONEY 23/12/44 BERLIN R.A.A.F Sgt. S.W. MOORE 2I2/45 WEISBADEN F/Sgt K. MORTIMER 30/1/44 BERLIN Sgt. W. MUSKET 2/12/43 BERLIN F/Lt. C. W. NICHOL 22/3/44 FRANKFURT F/O. R.J. RAMSEY 11/5/44 LOUVAIN Sgt. J.D. REID 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN F/Sgt. R.J. RIGDEN 12/9/44 FRANKFURT F/Sgt. A.J. ROBERTSON 30/1/44 BERLIN R.A.A.F. Sgt. G.F. ROBINSON 28/7/44 STUTTGART F/O. K.S. ROBINSON 26/8/44 KEIL Sgt. C.L. ROBINSON 11/9/44 KAMEN R.C.A.F. F/Sgt V.J. ROLLINGS 30/3/44 NUREMBURG Sgt. J. SCULLY 3/8/44 BOIS de CASSAN Sgt. R.C. SIME 22/3/44 FRANKFURT R.C.A.F. [page break] Sgt. R.L. SMITH 21/11/44 MAGDEBURG Sgt. W.J. STEPHEN 21/12/43 BERLIN F/Sgt. G.H, STROMBERG 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Sgt. F.C. TOWNSHEND 22/3/44 FRANKFURT P.O. C.O. TURNER 12/9/44 FRANKFURT F/Sgt. L.J. VENUS 21/5/44 DUISBERG P.O. V.H.J.VIZER 21/1/44 MAGDEBURG F/Sgt. E.J. WALLINGTON 30/1/44 BERLIN Sgt. H.H. WICKSON 30/3/44 NUREMBURG F/O R.J.S. WILTON 30/3/44 NUREMBERG F.O. D.A. WINTERFORD 11/5/44 LOUVAIN F/Sgt R.J. WOOSNAM 7/6/44 MASSEY PALAISEAU Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Just Another Story Description An account of the resource Eddie recalls joining the RAF as a flight mechanic in 1939 and his subsequent selection for aircrew. He goes on to describe operational training on Wellington and beginning to crew up, followed by conversion to Lancaster at RAF Little Snoring. He was eventually posted to RAF Foulsham to join, newly formed, 514 Squadron which then moved to RAF Waterbeach. Eddie recalls his first flight on the squadron on 25 November 1943. He describes life on the squadron and his operational flying experiences between December 1943 and March 1944. He had to bale out during one operation and was taken prisoner of war, at Stalag 1XC at Karysburg. He tells of the long march and gives an account of his time at Stalag VIII-B Lamsdorf, as well as preparations and journeys for repatriation. Eddie tells of eventual liberation by United States troops and his return to the United Kingdom. He goes on to talk about his life, post-war and describes the building of a memorial in the village of Molenbeersel in Belgium. Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Essex England--London England--Bedfordshire Scotland--St. Andrews England--Manchester Scotland--Dumfries England--Norfolk England--Cambridgeshire France France--Biarritz Germany Germany--Aachen Netherlands Netherlands--Venlo Germany--Frankfurt am Main Germany--Bad Sulza Poland Poland--Łambinowice Germany--Munich Belgium Belgium--Limburg (Province) Germany--Nuremberg England--Lancashire France--Massy-Palaiseau Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1939 1943-11-25 1944-03-30 1944-04-11 Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource R Marsh E Humes Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Twenty-six page printed document Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Memoir Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context BHumesELHumesELv1 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource David Bloomfield Maureen Clarke 12 OTU 1678 HCU 514 Squadron Air Observers School aircrew Anson anti-aircraft fire bale out bombing bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944) Botha crewing up Dulag Luft flight mechanic Gee ground crew Heavy Conversion Unit Lancaster Lancaster Mk 2 memorial military living conditions military service conditions navigator Operational Training Unit prisoner of war RAF Bridgnorth RAF Cardington RAF Chipping Warden RAF Dumfries RAF Foulsham RAF Heaton Park RAF Little Snoring RAF Waterbeach RAF Wing Red Cross sport Stalag 8B strafing the long march Tiger Moth training Typhoon Waffen-SS Wellington https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/821/10805/PFisherT1701.1.jpg ab966b75919cc81ba9cf72d7ae808da1 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/821/10805/AFisherT170726.2.mp3 14a8d63f6e971f8062c9b1885ae60417 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Fisher, Thomas T Fisher Description An account of the resource An oral history interview with Thomas Fisher (1922 - 2020, 1097527 Royal Air Force). He trained as a bomb aimer / navigator. The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-07-26 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Fisher, T Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document GT: Ok. This is a official interview of Mr Thomas Fisher and we are just outside of Dumfries in Scotland and it is the 26th of July 2017. Your interviewer is Glen Turner from the 75 Squadron Association and accredited IBCC interviewer, and also present is Thomas Fisher’s daughter Julia McLennan and a traveling friend here of Glen’s, Diana Harrington from Middlesborough. So, Thomas, can you give us, your opening piece of information would be where you were born, your date of birth and where you grew up, please. TF: Yes. I was, I was born on December the 7th 1922 in Sunderland and I grew up in that, in that town. GT: And where did you go to school? TF: In Sunderland. GT: And did you complete High School or — TF: I, well, I [laughs] I passed the 11 Plus to go to Grammar School which I did do but unfortunately, I, my parents said I had to leave school when I was fourteen which was rather a bit of a blow because, and a surprise because my father had already signed a form to say I would stay until I was at least sixteen. But they sort of said they needed the money and so I left school and got a, got a job. I worked in an office for a while and then I became an apprentice painter and decorator. I worked at that until I was, until I was eighteen and that was when I decided that I would join the Air Force. GT: Had the war been going long at that time or did you join before the war? TF: No. The war had been on since the end of ’39. End of ’40. It would have been going on for a bit over a year during which time we’d have been, it had just been a series of disasters. You know, the Dunkirk evacuation and lots of bombing. I must admit I was getting a bit fed up with hearing the siren going at 3 o’clock or so in the morning and expected to get up and go to an air raid shelter. But, but fortunately that was the only time that I was subjected to bombing was before I joined the Air Force. I was much safer when I was in the Air Force [laughs] I was never at an airfield that was attacked at all and, and well to be quite frank I had one horrible time when I picked up the local newspaper and the corner was folded over of the heading and I could just see the letters “tain” said, “We must surrender.” And I took that as Britain says we must surrender. I was absolutely horrified at the thought. I just stood and stared at that for a bit and then I bent down and picked it up and the corner flipped over back. And it wasn’t Britain. It was Pétain, the French Prime Minister. And that was, I think that was one of the times that I sort of definitely thought the Air Force seems to be the only thing that’s doing anything at the moment so, and also I’m getting a bit fed up with them coming over and dropping bombs on us so we might as well go and do the same to them. GT: So, you were seventeen years old at that time. TF: At that time. Ah huh. GT: And you mentioned that yourself and was it your family that were involved with German raids over Sunderland? TF: Yes. GT: And were you attacked, did the Germans manage to bomb your area? Your street, or house? TF: They actually did later, at a later date when I was in the Air Force they did actually bomb the house. GT: Did you lose any family from that? TF: I, I got, I was stationed in the Air Force at Inverness and I got a message to go and see the adjutant and when I did he said, ‘I’ve got some bad news. Your house has been bombed. But there’s no, no one’s been hurt.’ So that was alright and they were very good. They immediately gave me a railway warrant and sent me on leave to see if I could do anything to help. GT: Ok. So, let’s then just go back slightly to your reasons for joining the Royal Air Force and and how you managed to achieve that for me please. TF: Well, the reason. Yes. [telephone ringing] TF: I would say the reason was — GT: Ok. Hang on. I’ll tell you what. We’ll just pause that. [recording paused] [clock chiming] GT: Ok, Thomas. Can, can you please tell me why you joined the Royal Air Force and when and how? TF: Yes. Well, I joined in nineteen, at the beginning of 1941. And the reason why was I got a bit fed up with getting bombed by German planes coming over in horrible times. Middle of the night getting it Not that I expected I was going to make any difference but I just felt I would like to do something to make up for all the bombing that was going on and so I visited a recruiting office and said, ‘I’ve joined the Air Force.’ GT: So you were saying that you lived or grew up in Sunderland but there was no recruiting office there. You had to go somewhere else. TF: No. No recruiting office. GT: Where was the recruiting office that you went to then? TF: It was at Newcastle on Tyne which was about twelve mile away. But, and so I went through there and joined the Air Force and, and I think I was put on what they called deferred service for about two months and then eventually went down to Blackpool where we got kitted out. Well, it was rather pleasant in a way because it wasn’t an Air Force station as such. We just lived in hotels. There’s hundreds of small hotels in Blackpool and there would probably be about six of us because they were nearly all geared up with double beds you see and of course we all had one each. So if they had six rooms it normally meant there would be twelve people staying but there was only six of us sort of like. We got good meals and then went out and got our uniforms and got kitted up with a whole pile of stuff. We were all given a kit bag and moved along a line and someone would say, What size shoes do you take?’ ‘What size shirt do you, what’s your collar size?’ And such like and you’d just keep dropping things in and we took, with laden kit bags went back to our hotel and were told to pay after, after lunch with our uniform on. And, and someone came and checked over to see if everybody fitted reasonably well and then we started doing basic training with a lot of PT and marching along the promenade, running around the sands like a lot of lunatics with rifles and bayonets. And, and then in the fullness of time we, I was there about a month and then went down to Number 4 School of Technical Training. GT: Now, Thomas, now Thomas earlier you were telling me when you initially went to the Recruiting Office what they recruiter did to give you your future job. Can you, can you tell me that again please? What happened when you went to the Recruiting Office. TF: Well, when I offered to be a flight mechanic he said, ‘Not so fast. We’ll have to see if you’re suitable for training.’ And, and then started to give me what I’d say with good grace here was a bit of mental arithmetic. Just wanted to know whether I could add up and I wasn’t completely illiterate and, and then and said I was quite suitable for training. So that’s why I ended up at Number 4 School of Technical Training at St Athan in South Wales. GT: And how long were you there for and what did, what did they train you on? TF: They trained [laughs] they trained us on all sorts of old pieces of aircraft. I don’t think there was a complete plane. Actually, when I was [unclear] was when I went to start the training someone came in to [laughs] in to my classroom one day and said, ‘Would there be any chance that there’s a sign writer here?’ So I said, ‘Yes.’ So he said, ‘Well, could you come through so that I’ll show you what we’d like you to do?’ And they wanted me to do some small lettering on a sort of board you see and said, ‘Well, the problem is I don’t know when you’re going to be able to do it. You can’t miss any of your course and you certainly can’t be expected to give your spare time because you’ll not have enough. You’ll be spending more of your spare time studying anyhow so would you mind missing PT? So I said, ‘Well, if it’s for the good of the Air Force I’ll miss PT.’ And so, when everyone else went to do PT in the middle of the morning I used to just go and spend a bit of time in there and in reality waited ‘til the tea van came around and had a cup of tea and a bun or something while everybody else was doing PT. But most of the things were very old pieces of aircraft. Just an engine here and there and we, I don’t ever recollect seeing an aircraft with an engine in to do anything. But however, we had our tests and we passed out as a flight mechanic engine. You had the choice of being either engine or air frame. If you were air frame you were usually referred to as a rigger and if you were an engine you were usually referred to as a fitter. GT: So that was your choice. You were given a choice to be a rigger or an engines. TF: Yes. A rigger or a fitter. One looked after the airframe and one looked after the engine. GT: So how many was on your course when you went through there? TF: I would think possibly about twenty or twenty four. Maybe two dozen. GT: Did, did you lose anybody? Did they drop out or move on? TF: I honestly couldn’t remember but I don’t think so. GT: And the tests you did at the end there was it written or did you have to prove yourself on the machinery? TF: Well, I think it was mainly written but it was also taken into consideration your work that you’d done during that time. One of the things I remember which seemed a complete waste of time was trying to find a piece of metal as a cube to fit into a square hole. And I could never for the life of me, never could think what that was going to have to do with an aircraft was spending hours and hours filing away to get a perfect fit. GT: So during that time at St Athan then your barracks you were in were you twenty men to a room? Did you have bed packs? Did you have spit and polish shoes? Did you have marching? TF: No. We didn’t have marching but we were expected to spend one evening cleaning the room and leaving everything neat and tidy for the COs inspection the following day. That was once a week. GT: No stand by your beds inspection? TF: I don’t recollect that. No. GT: Interesting. TF: On the whole, yeah it was reasonably comfortable and beds, we did have, we did all have a sort of a little fitted wardrobe each to put clothing and things in and, and then at the end of that time we were given two weeks leave. GT: So how long was a course for, Tom? TF: Well, I think it would be about sixteen weeks. I went in, I think it would probably be the 1st of May when I went in and it would be October when I passed out and that would have been a week at, a month at Blackpool and the rest of the time at St Athan. And I was given two weeks leave and, with instructions to report to Number 92 Squadron at Gravesend. So, I thought from Gravesend being at the, on the Thames Estuary I thought it was going to be a very busy station with getting fighters and bombers going. But however [laughs] when I got down to Gravesend, they said, ‘Oh, 92 Squadron. They’re not here.’ So, I went, ‘I’ve trailed all the way. Come all the way from one end of the country to the other.’ ‘No.’ He said, ‘They’re not here. I don’t know where they are.’ And I thought surely you must know. But then when I thought about it later I thought, well no. You didn’t give information like that away. They were just, suddenly the squadron would just go and they wouldn’t say where they were going. So, I was told to, I was shown where I could have a bed for the night, where to go and get a meal, ‘And after breakfast in the morning if you come back here I’ll have found out where 92 Squadron are and give you a railway warrant again and you can go join them.’ So when I went back he said, ‘Well, they’re in Lincoln at an airfield called Digby. So, I then took all my kit, got a bus in to London and then the train up to Lincoln and then on to, to Digby. GT: So you were still eighteen years old at this time. TF: At that time. Yes. GT: And you got to Digby ok and what aircraft did they have when you first arrived? TF: Spitfires. And, and it was actually in a way a little bit of an exciting time because obviously there was no television but we did see news regularly. News came on the radio. Everybody was glued to the radio for the 9 o’clock news and you kept hearing about, particularly during the Battle of Britain how they’d shot such a lot of German planes down and such like which later we discovered was great exaggeration. There were never anywhere near that number shot down. However, you saw the, the squadrons taking off and looked across and you saw, I saw great big bell outside the crew room and the notice up, chalked on a blackboard. “When you hear this bell you will run like hell.” And so when you, when somebody pokes their head out of the door and shouts, ‘92 Squadron, five minutes readiness.’ And the pilots then all knew that whatever they were doing would have to be dropped in five and be off in the plane and away. And then we would come out, possibly come out when it was time to go and ring this great big bell and we would dash down and unplug the, well wait ‘til the pilots got the planes started, unplug the starter batteries out and wave them out because a Spitfire a pilot can’t see where he’s going if he’s looking ahead because of the little wheel at the back on the ground. And if that lifts up the propeller’s going to hit the ground and twists so you sort of slowly guide them out and then they’re away and you see the whole squadrons flying off to somewhere and you know, you feel, well I’ve had some little part in this. And then when they come back they were immediately refuelled and every morning they were checked over completely to be ready for the next time. GT: So, what Mark of Spitfire was flying on that squadron at that time? TF: I don’t honestly remember. I just do know that they weren’t fitting with cannon. They were definitely just the eight gun and, but they were three bladed propellers. I gather some of the early ones were only two but later they were four. But I’m not sure what the number was. GT: That’s fine. So, so when you got to Digby did they have everybody put into barracks again? Or did you have single billets or — TF: No. It was a pre-war station and they were, it were quite good because there were a block. A big block of building and A Flight would have one side and B Flight another and the downstairs would be, we were all split into two watches because you had to cover every, complete daylight so sometimes it could be from what? 5 o’clock in the morning until 11 o’clock at night. And so obviously we were split in to two. Two watches. And one watch would have one room and there would probably be about twelve or twenty people in the room. But they were brick built and pre-war, centrally heated and incorporated on the landings. There were bathrooms and things. They were reasonably comfortable. GT: So, you chose rigger as your trade. TF: No. Fitter. GT: You went fitter. So, from the engines that you had to work on at St Athan you arrived on the squadron and you were given Merlins to look after. TF: Merlins, ah huh. GT: So, did you learn your skill on how to maintain a Merlin directly there on the squadron? Was that a quick learning session for you? TF: Well, what we trained on at St Athan were Kestrels which were really very similar to a Merlin but only very, nowhere near the power. But I suppose we must have just picked a lot up as we went along really. And I was there for a relatively short time and then for some reason or other I got posted to 417 Squadron. GT: And what time, what date was that then, Tom? How long did you spend at Digby? TF: That would be [pause] October. Just before Christmas. It was probably end of November. GT: So barely two months. Barely two months or so on 92. TF: Ah huh. GT: Right. So you went up to 417. TF: 417. GT: And where were they based? TF: Charmy Down in Somerset. Near, very near Bath. GT: And aircraft type? TF: Spitfires. GT: And how long were you there for? TF: I was there quite a while and I was very surprised to find I was now in the Canadian Air Force. It was all four. All the Canadian squadrons were fours. GT: And how did they, work out? The very — TF: Well, it was, it was just being formed. It was a new squadron just being formed so the pilots were, had a lot of, a long way to go to get operational and they were all Canadian. And the ground staff, the fitters and riggers were mostly Canadian but I think they must have been a bit short and there was about a half dozen or so of British boys made their numbers up. GT: Was the Battle of Britain still going at that time or had it finished? TF: No. The Battle of Britain was over then. GT: Ok. Just going back then. So, you were on 92 Squadron during the Battle of Britain. TF: No. I was still after the Battle of Britain. GT: That was still just after. Ok. TF: The Battle of Britain was 1940. GT: Alright. TF: And that was 1941 when I went in. GT: Was there still much German aircraft activity that the Spitfires were going up to meet at that time? TF: Not a great lot. I think what had happened was the squadron had originally been at Gravesend and they were very busy. They were. And when they went up to Lincoln there was a little bit of a rest. They weren’t going to be quite so, so busy and while I was there we had a visit from the King who came up to inspect the squadron. GT: What’s your recollections of meeting the King? Did you shake hands? Did he talk to you? TF: No. My recollection is of being rather appalled at the idea of, we had to parade in front of the hangar in our best uniforms and shoes polished and such like and the announcement came over, ‘All personnel not on essential duties will line the roadway and cheer his majesty when he goes past.’ And I thought I’ve seen this on the newsreels and you used to think it was spontaneous but you were actually ordered to go out and cheer the King. [laughs] And the other recollection I have for him was that his face was absolutely plastered with makeup. He looked, almost looked as if he was trying to smile or do anything. Well, he had a little permanent half smile. If he tried not to it looked as if it would all crack or something. It was really thick. It may have looked fine on camera but it looked ridiculous when you were close to him. And so things weren’t all that busy at Digby when I was there but now as I say there were, there were just this Canadian squadron was just being formed. It was bitterly cold weather then but obviously got in thick and one of the things that surprised me was we used to have to put heaters in the planes to stop them freezing. I don’t know why because they always had ethylene glycol in the tank. Anti-freeze. But however, they had these heaters to go under the engine and another one under the cockpit and the fitters always looked after the heater. And one day I noticed on the notice board, it said, “In future the flight mechanics will not do any servicing to the catalytic heaters.” They will — “This will be carried out by a specialist.” And then a bit further down, “The specialist will be AC Fisher.” And I I don’t know one end of them from the other [laughs] I have no reason why I would know anything more about them but the following day someone came and collared me after I’d finished my breakfast and said, ‘I’m taking you to —’ I think it was to Colerne. Another Air Force station, ‘Where you are going to get a day’s instruction on catalytic heaters.’ So, I went there for a day and on the strength of that I, I was then inspecting them. But it was quite a good job because it was bitterly cold weather and when all the mechanics were bringing the heaters off the planes they were still quite warm so I had my little part quite, quite heated. So — GT: Fascinating. Well, those Canadians should have been used to the cold weather, wouldn’t they? TF: Well, yes. So, and then I was supposed to have them all ready for early evening to go back in having been checked over and refuelled and such like. GT: So you became a bit of a specialist on the base then. Very good. So how long did you stay with 417 and where did you go from there? TF: I stayed with 417, not very long. I stayed with them for I suppose getting [pause] we moved about, about the Easter of the following year up to a place in Scotland called Tain. But I always remember that because I’d been out and when I came in he sort of said, ‘Oh. We’re moving and you’re on the advanced party. You’ve got to leave tomorrow.’ And I said, ‘Well, where are we going?’ ‘I’ve never heard of it.’ But it was quite a journey up from, from Somerset up to the north of Scotland. GT: So that was about Easter 1942. TF: Ah huh. GT: Be about there. And how long did it take to move the squadron up there? TF: Well, quite a while in a way. We went up and funnily enough the weather was beautiful. We were sitting out most of the time waiting for the planes arriving and of course they were being flown up. And it was probably two or three days and then things just, were just continued there and then things started to change. We got issued with tropical uniforms and it was, the Canadian boys went on embarkation leave and one half at a time and then there’s the other half and it never occurred to me to query why we didn’t get any embarkation leave. But however, I just thought we were going. I had all the gear. The kit. And somebody came in one day and rattled a few names out and said, ‘You’ll not be going with the squadron. You’ll remain here and look after the planes and they are always to be available at about half an hour’s readiness.’ And so the squadron moved off to the Middle East and about half a dozen of us stayed behind and gave the planes a check over every day and ran the engines up to full boost and and there was nothing else to do. It was absolutely very boring. But luckily for me I came in to our hut one day and there were one of the boys looking really miserable and I thought he’d had bad news from home, and I said, ‘What’s wrong.’ He said, ‘I’ve been posted.’ I thought, oh, lucky you. ‘Where are, where are you going?’ He said, ‘I’m going to Inverness but I’m all by myself. I’ve got to go all by myself to Inverness.’ I thought, ‘What a dreadful thing to happen. Would you like me to go instead?’ He said, ‘Ahum.’ I said, ‘Well, look, let’s go to the orderly room and see if we can get it changed.’ So I went down. I said, ‘Was the posting by name or just for a flight mechanic?’ And he said, ‘Just for a flight mechanic.’ I said, ‘Can you change that name to T Fisher?’ And he said, ‘Yes, but mind you you’ve got to go in the morning.’ Everything in the Air Force was wanted to be done yesterday but then you do nothing for about six weeks and then again its a rush. And so I went down to Inverness and that was the best thing I ever did in the Air Force actually. I’d only been there a week or two when the, it was a tiny little station and it was 14 Group Headquarters Communication Flight and they called the station Longman. And I [pause] and then while I was there there was a notice came out and the CO called a little parade of flight mechanics. There would have been about possibly twelve of us altogether of riggers and fitters and he said, ‘I’ve got a communication from the Air Ministry and they would like flight mechanics to volunteer to become flight mechanic air gunners. So, ‘And if you would volunteer will you take a pace forward.’ So I duly took a pace forward and if I hadn’t the others took a pace back which would have left me standing at the front. And he said, ‘You’d better come and see me this afternoon.’ So I went to see him and he said, ‘What on earth made you want to be a flight mechanic air gunner? Is it because you wanted to fly?’ And to be quite frank I felt like saying if the Air Force hadn’t have such silly names for people calling people a pilot officer and he might never have, never a pilot at all and a flight mechanic that doesn’t fly.’ So, but however you don’t talk to COs like that so I said, ‘Yes. Because —’ He said, ‘Well, why on earth didn’t you join as a pilot?’ I said, ‘Well, the main reason is that the recruiting officer said flight mechanics were wanted more.’ I said, ‘But I also knew that pilots have to have a flying, had to have a school leaving certificate and I don’t have one.’ He said, ‘Well, that is true. You have to have a school leaving certificate but no one will ever ask to see it.’ So I thought oh, this is [pause] ‘So, in that case I’m recommending you for training as a pilot.’ So, in the fullness of time I, we got sent for to go down for a selection board which was held in Edinburgh. So I went down to Edinburgh. I was told to book myself in somewhere for a few days and I went down to Edinburgh and had this. And the first thing I noticed was we went in to a big room and there was a blackboard and somebody came in and whipped a cover off the blackboard and says, ‘You’ve got one hour to write an essay on the —’ And there was a choice of two or three subjects. So, I got that over and then there was a few tests like Morse aptitude test, another eyesight test, then a night vision test and then the next day had another paper handed out and it was a maths. An hour of maths. And at the end of all that there was an interview. Oh, no, after that there was a medical. And I thought that was when I was going to fail. We had to blow up a tube of mercury and I thought my lungs were going to burst and I just shut my eyes and blew and blew and blew and blew. And then I heard a voice say, ‘Alright, you’ve done it.’ And, ‘You’ve passed the aircrew medical and now you go for the Board.’ And we knew some of the questions you would automatically be asked about, ‘Why do you want to fly?’ And I was always amused because in the sort of Aircrew Association magazine that I used to get later people used to say what they’d always said to things but you knew full well they would never have said it. ‘Well, because if I’m got to go to war I’d like to do it sitting down.’ And so, another one, ‘Because you get more money.’ And so on. Anyhow, I knew neither of those would really have been what they said. So, I I said, ‘Why didn’t you join then?’ Well, I couldn’t very well say, ‘Because I don’t have a school leaving certificate.’ So I said, ‘Because I was told the flight mechanics were urgently needed.’ And so a few things and then the other thing that always puzzled me they set such a store on, ‘What sport did you play?’ So and for some reason we all knew that what they wanted to hear was that you played rugby. They didn’t want to hear you played Association Football. But as it happened I was never any good at any sports so I couldn’t. Netball, I would go the opposite way to what I wanted to go and I had never managed to bowl anybody out at cricket so I was absolutely no good. But however, I thought well, there’s no good saying that so I sort of said that, [pause] ‘Did you not play for your school?’ And I said [laughs] ‘No. The school I went to was in the middle of a large town. It had no playing fields.’ However, we did used to go to the swimming baths regularly and I said that I was also a very keen member of the Scouts Association Swimming Club which meant you could get in the baths for tuppence instead of three pence or something on certain nights. So that seemed to satisfy them. And, and then a few more questions and then I was told they would, I would be recommended but they explained that you no longer could you be a pilot. You had to agree to be a PNB which meant you would be a pilot, navigator or a bomb aimer but you all got the same pay and you all had exactly the same and you were all equally important. That was always stressed. And so I went back and just waited to be sent for again. And this was about three months must have elapsed before they sent for me so there was no urgency. And I went to Aircrew Reception Centre at London which I didn’t like at all. I never did care for, I never cared for London and that was the only thing I really remember about it was going for a long run through some of the London parks and to then, I thought that was the PT part. But no, you then started to stop in certain places and do exercises. And that night I was on fire watching which meant I was sleeping on the top bunk of a two decked bunk and only had to get up if there was, if the sirens had gone. Had to watch for where bombs had fallen. And when I leapt out of bed for my turn my legs just buckled up. I think with the unaccustomed exercise I couldn’t even stand [laughs] never mind run. It took me ages before I was able to walk again. And anyhow, I finished there and most people went up to Scarborough to do their ITW training but instead of going there I was sent to Cambridge and went to Pembroke College which was rather nice. I was quite pleased about that. And when we finished there we did an awful lot of law. Military. It’s Air Force law and administration. Civil law. And we did meteorology which is understandable and, but and then there was the exams at the end and, and then if you, you never knew who had passed and who hadn’t because if people hadn’t passed something they just were whisked away. You never saw them. You couldn’t see anything. Speak to them even. Anyhow, I then moved down to a little airfield called Sywell, near Nottingham and learned to fly on Tiger Moths which was quite, I thought that was great. To sit in a little plane and push the throttle forward to get more power and pull the stick back a bit and I’m actually flying now, you know. And that was fine for two or three days but then they started to have to do spins and loops and oh dear and I was just felt absolutely ill with that. Oh, I felt horrible. And anyhow, I stuck it out for the training and then the chief instructor gave us all test flight and he told me that he didn’t think I was going to be suitable for pilot training which I think I already knew [laughs] And so I I was then put down to be a bomb aimer. And from [pause] from there I went to Manchester but we didn’t do anything. It was just a question of waiting until we went out to Canada. And in the fullness of time I got on the Andes and it was quite a nice pleasant run and landed at, I think it was St Johns in Canada and went up to Nova Scotia. Not Nova Scotia. New Brunswick. And then eventually down to Ontario for a bombing and gunnery course. And I always remember the first time we flew. The pilot said, ‘It’s just a wind finding exercise, isn’t it?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Well, how about if we do it over Niagara Falls?’ Oh, I thought. That’s great. And, you know, that sort of thing. Gosh. I never ever thought I would be sitting here flying over Niagara Falls. And so, I finished there and then went on to Number 1 Air Observer’s School which was mainly for navigation and flew quite, trips out across the Great Lakes and navigated about Canada and quite, quite pleasant really. And it was much easier than doing it over here because there was no blackouts so if you saw a train going along with lights on you think well there should be a railway line near here. Well, yes that must be it. Where here there are so many trains you don’t know where you were going. And towns were all lit up so again that was good, everything was easy, quite pleasant and a plentiful supply of everything. And, and we used to spend most weekends going down to America. And so I was quite, quite happy time to be there. And eventually we finished training and the great day arrived when we could get our flying badge and it was quite a do. They assembled the whole, the whole of the station and the courses passing out which in this case was us would be in the middle and you would hear your name read out and we were all forever being told you put, you have your white flash very loose in your hat so it can be easily plucked out and you hear your name which in my case was Sergeant Fisher, Sunderland, England. And the next might be Sergeant Jones of Winnipeg, Canada. So we went and stepped forward and some air marshall picks out, plucks out the white flash and someone hands him a flying badge and pinned it in and then you give him a salute and walk away. And there was the band playing, and a marquees with a buffet meal laid out and they made quite a do of it. GT: Was the course you were on, Tom was it a mixture of of English, Canadian, New Zealand, Australian? The people — TF: Mostly when I was there they were about fifty fifty English and Canadian. I don’t think there was, I don’t know if there was any Australian although we did see, there were quite a few Australians waiting to go on courses when we were waiting at Manchester to go over to Canada. So, there were obviously some Australians would go. GT: That was the Commonwealth Training Scheme. TF: Yes. GT: Because the majority of New Zealand and Australian aircrew went through that scheme before they headed off through to England. So it’s interesting to hear you actually went the other way to so this training scheme to go back to England. So, when you finished that training and you were given the half brevet of observer or bomb aimer. TF: Ah huh. GT: Which one? TF: Well, it was really what we used to be called observer and that went out of fashion and bomb aimer, but bomb aimer had also become much more of a navigating. And when I went on to bombers they used to work in conjunction with the, we had a navigator and one of us would operate one radar set. I think I used to do the Gee and he used to do H2S and — GT: So, for your time then in Canada how long did you spend overall and then what was the dates and year that you got back to England? TF: I would say slightly less than a year overall there. A lot of that time was hanging about mind. When I was at Moncton we weren’t doing, we weren’t, it wasn’t, they were just waiting to go somewhere else. Then there was two weeks leave when I went to New York and then back to Moncton to wait for a ship to bring us back home again. So, the actual time was getting on for a year altogether. GT: When you were in the USA what was the feeling like about the war and obviously they recognised you guys because you were all in our English RAF uniforms or did you change in to civilians and try to keep yourself — TF: No. No. We always wore our uniforms and we didn’t have passports. It was quite sufficient to have your identity card in your pocket when they came around at the front of you. They would just look at that and went across. There was no bother. It was really quite pleasant actually because the Americans were really really good. It was not unusual to go in to a restaurant for a meal when you asked for the bill or as they would always call it the check, you would always get oh its been paid for. Or someone to come in the bar and produce a tray of drinks on your table and say, with the gentleman, ‘With the compliments of that gentleman in the corner.’ And yes. They thought we were marvellous you see. But — GT: What were the American ladies like? Did you get to go out to the nightclubs or the — TF: Yes. GT: Dances. Dine and dances. TF: Yes. No problem at all like. I always remember going to one and as soon as I got in this girl came up and said, ‘Are you with or without?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m without.’ She said, ‘With now.’[laughs]. But, oh yes, there was never any problem on that score. GT: Because you know the Americans were over in England [laughs] TF: Yes, I know, and I think we to a large extent were treated the same as the way they were. Only of course they had lots of goodies to give away and such like but there was no need for that anyhow in America. There was plenty of things. But yes they were. They were very very interested to know what we were doing. Oh, it was a sort of a wonderful time. I used to, it was only a Friday evening we used to get a train from Toronto down over the border to Detroit. And, and what really happened was a terrific contrast because in Canada you cannot get drinks other than coke. There was no, no bars you can’t get a drink in restaurants and its quite, quite strict on that score but you could just cross over the border. And even in Niagara in the American part there’s nightclubs and business going on all night. In the Canadian half it shuts down quite, no where to go drinking and things like that. GT: So you were about twenty years old by this time. TF: Ah huh. GT: You had yet to have your twenty first to come. Right. And so, when you finished in Canada you were all put on another ship back to Britain. TF: Yes. GT: Was it part of a convoy or was the ship fast enough to avoid the U-boats? TF: The ship, it wasn’t a convoy. None of them were in convoy. It was reckoned it would be fast enough but if by any chance it got torpedoed it would have been terrible because it was so crowded. It was a very big ship. The Mauretania and it was, oh, I was absolutely appalled when we went on and they gave us a hammock. I says, ‘Go to sleep in a hammock?’ And it’s and I realised afterwards we were lucky to have hammocks to sleep in. At least we were in the top half as well where there was a bit more air and such like. It was so crowded they could only give, there was plenty of food but they could only give us two meals a day because they just, you know there wasn’t the space. They couldn’t fit any more in to the dining rooms. GT: So how long was that journey? Two weeks? TF: No. About a week each way. GT: Brilliant. So, when you got back to England what happened to you then? TF: Well, they sent us up to Harrogate for, for a very short while and then we came home on leave for two weeks. I went back to Harrogate and we stayed there for a few, a few weeks again and then for some strange reason I went up to Whitley Bay to do what they called a survival course and it always puzzled me why I was picked. Nobody else on the course went with me. I just went up to Whitley Bay and I was a bit appalled actually because when I got there I was issued with khaki battledress and great thick heavy army boots and we spent a lot of time running about on, on the beach and the purpose really was to try and show us how we could survive on stuff you could find on beaches. Sort of, you know I think I’d rather just die than eat some of this stuff to be quite frank. But, and I always thought it was funny to think that we were marching around like a lot of little soldiers during the, during the day and in the evening we went back to our billets. We were in sort of houses in, not, they weren’t people living in them but the houses had been sort of commandeered and they were empty and they just put beds and a few tables and things in for us and we changed to our Air Force uniform and go down to a dance. And I often thought I wonder if people realised we were, and also of course we were very proud of our new flying badges but then again in the morning we were back again in to this khaki uniform. But I flatly refused to wear Army boots. But on the other hand it was a bit awkward because we still wore those funny little gators and there was a gap between the top of my shoes and the [laughs] and the gator. So if you ran through a stream your feet were absolutely soaking wet. But anyhow, it was only a short course and when that was finished of all places I came up here to Heathhall. GT: And that was a posting that that you asked for or was it just something you were told to go to? TF: It was just something we went to. It was called Number 10 Advanced Flying Unit. And it was flying Avro Ansons and it wasn’t bad. It was quite pleasant really. We used to fly over the Irish Sea and over to Ireland and the Isle of Man and such like and a lot of, a lot of little cross countries and such like and [laughs] I never thought at the time that I would be living so near to, to Heathhall. GT: So, what year was this? What month and year? Can you remember? TF: Oh, we’re getting on for ’44 now I would think. GT: And what was your role to be doing at this with the Ansons? You were still training? Or did you teach others? TF: Navigating. Navigating and [pause] mostly navigating but we did, did drop practice bombs and actually it was part of the targets, one of the targets we used was, is still visible through the, through the, you can see the base of it and usually I had a cross country flight and then come back and we’d go, go and drop bombs. Six bombs from different directions over. It was either there or Luce Bay and and I think that was mainly what we did here at Heathhall. And then from there I got posted up to Lossiemouth and that’s where we were told we would have to find, sort yourself out in to crews. GT: Oh, what, what base was that at? Sorry you went to the Lossiemouth base. TF: Lossiemouth. GT: Ok. TF: Ah huh. It was an Operational Training Unit. GT: Ok. TF: I think we were number 20 OTU and, and we were in a way sort of lucky there because we were told we would have to form crews and from what I’d understood with most people the whole collection of aircrew was put in to a hangar and told to, ‘Sort yourselves in to crews and if you haven’t formed yourselves in to crews in an hour we’ll just come and put you in.’ But we were told to sort yourselves out in to crews and you’ve got a week to get that done. So just get to know each other in the bar, in the mess and get, get to know each other and and see what happens. And the second day over there I was [unclear] I was going to have a drink before the lunch break and there was a flying officer and a flight sergeant came in and they came straight across to me and one said, ‘Oh, I’m John and this is Eric. Eric’s my navigator and we would like you to join us as bomb aimer.’ And I thought well he’s a flying officer. That’s not bad. He must have some experience. So I readily agreed and I discovered afterwards that why he had had experience they’d kept him on as an instructor. So I felt quite confident we’d got a good pilot. GT: Yeah. TF: And then during that time we collected a rear gunner and a wireless operator and that meant five of us in the crew and we were now on Wellingtons and but [pause] And then after a little while the, for some strange reason again we were posted down to Moreton in Marsh and we were now told we were going to join Tiger Force. GT: Now, you earlier mentioned it was 1944. So, by this time when did you get posted to 20 OTU in Lossiemouth? TF: I was posted to 20 OTU in Lossiemouth and then from Lossiemouth posted to 21 OTU at Moreton in Marsh. GT: But what year was that please, Tom? TF: Oh, we were getting on for ’45 then, I guess. GT: So you spent quite a bit of time training within the UK once you got back from Canada. TF: Ah huh. GT: On the Ansons, wasn’t it? I was just thinking back to the time you spent down here training on the Ansons. So how long did you spend on bomb aimer training with the Anson aircraft? TF: The Bomb aimer training at? GT: With the Ansons you were, you were bombing off of here somewhere. So — TF: At here they were Ansons, ah huh. GT: There’s quite a few months for you doing that. TF: Probably, I don’t think it was a long time, probably about four months. GT: And that took you in to early 1945. Wow. TF: It would be getting on for that. Around that time. Ah huh. GT: So, you, you were aware at the time with your crew that the war was closing. It was coming to an end. TF: I don’t think we were actually. I don’t think we were. I don’t think. I don’t think we knew very much beyond our own immediate little — GT: Right. TF: No. I don’t think. We’d heard obviously you heard on the radios, news reels and you saw newsreels in cinema but I don’t think we were actually aware that it was getting so near finishing. GT: Because it’s a long time to be spending doing your training when — TF: It is an awful long time. Yes. But of course. there was such an awful long time of waiting in between. Sort of from Pembroke College, Cambridge to Flying School was straight off but then Flying School to going out to Canada to do really the next part of your training there was about three four maybe six weeks in Manchester. A week on the ship and two or three weeks at Moncton in Canada. All we always kept doing something but there was nothing to do with our, with training. It wasn’t until we got down to the Bombing and Gunnery School that you started to realise it and you also realised these were the only places they were giving us any tests at the end to make sure you’d, you got through. The others were just filling time in. GT: So, when you crewed up at 20 OTU Lossiemouth did you do any flying there or did you go straight down south? TF: I don’t recollect doing much in the way of flying Lossiemouth. I think we went down to, to Moreton in Marsh. GT: That was 21 OTU. TF: 21 OTU. Yes. GT: Ok. So, and you did flying time there then. TF: Yes. We did quite, oh we did a lot of flying time there and it made you wonder what we’d all been trained for first because now all the methods that we’d been doing were hardly used because there there was radar and you had a new type of bombsight. The Mark 14. The old one you used to have to watch for your target coming up between two wires and it looked like a really primitive thing. It was, it looked a bit like a compass and then an arm sticking out and you had to just search for the, find the target. Yes. I think. Give the pilot instructions. ‘Left. Left.’ Which incidentally if you wanted him to go to the left it was always, ‘Left. Left.’ And if it was right it was always just, ‘Right.’ So if he heard two he would know it was left. And gave him instructions and always one that, don’t do any last minute corrections because a bomb will always go in the direction the plane’s going. So if he’s moving to the left the bomb will just go over to the left and not to where you wanted it to go. And so yes it was [pause] but now we had a thing, which just shone across on the ground. And you just had to direct the pilot to get so that that cross went, the long arm went up over the target and when he reached the cross piece that was when you pressed the button and it released a bomb. GT: So was it, ‘Bombs gone.’ ‘Bombs away.’ TF: Oh, ‘Bombs gone, yes.’ GT: ‘Bombs gone, skipper’ TF: But yes, it was usually something like we do sort of working out in your settings and wind speeds and all that and then said, ‘Bomb doors open.’ Because the pilot would open the bomb doors and then you would then say, ‘Number one and two selected and fused, nose and tail. Because if you dropped a bomb before it’s fused it doesn’t explode. Or so they say [laughs] I wouldn’t know. GT: So, with the arming of your weapons you had a selection panel to choose and you already knew what bomb load you had. Is that correct? TF: Well, you would. Yes. Because it’s got to be, it’s better if it goes out evenly and not all at one side first when it’s fused and you always had to select and fuse and then you — GT: So those fuse setting that you, you then set the bombs before you released them was that given to you as part of your briefing before. Before you were to leave for an operation or was that something you chose when you were there for the, during the flight. The fuse settings for the bombs where did they come from? TF: They were put on by the armourer. GT: Yeah. TF: And — GT: So you knew the fuse settings before you took off. TF: Well, it was just a switch. GT: Good. Ok. TF: And, and apparently we would [give them away] was because they would be left hanging on the thing. If there were little things left hanging on the bomb rack they would drop them without the fuses being set. GT: Right. So that, that’s your arming wire which is selected to the, to the micro switch on the aircraft. So, you set the micro switches to hold the arming wire. As the bomb fell away wire came out of, out of the nose fuse and allowed the spinning propeller to arm the fuse of the bomb. Yeah. Good stuff. Ok. So, so Tom then once you moved down to 21 OTU that must have been pretty much near the end of the war. TF: It would be because it was when you say 21 OTU. When we finished, we finished our training on 21 OTU and then we moved up to I think it was 16 I can recall 1630 or 1830 Heavy Conversion Unit. GT: And what aircraft did you convert from the Wellington to that? TF: From the Wellington to the Lancaster. GT: Lancaster Mark 4 or Mark 3s generally. The Merlin engine. TF: Merlin engines. Yes. Four Merlin engines which lots of people blame for having hearing aids in later life but — GT: That’s a point to ask you, Tom. For your hearing protection. You didn’t have any hearing protection. TF: Didn’t have any at all. And it wasn’t just in the, in the, in with four Merlins in the Lancaster but running the Spitfires up on the ground to maximum boost. There were no other. It can’t have done the ears any good at all. But to go back to Lancasters we’d now collected two more in the crew making it up to seven. A flight engineer and a mid-upper gunner. GT: And, and that was and at what base were you at, Tom? TF: North Luffenham. GT: North Luffenham. So, now, now the war had finished you mentioned Tiger Force early on. TF: Yeah. GT: So, can, I know what Tiger Force was. Can you describe to me what you knew of Tiger Force at that time? TF: Well, I just knew that we were going to go to Japan and I also know, quite vividly remember being to keep, we were going to have a little capsule of some sort of poison sewn in our, in the collar of our battle dress. We were told that if you get shot down the choice is yours. You can either be taken prisoner or you can bite the end of your battle dress off and take that. GT: Cyanide probably. TF: It was poison. Yes. GT: Ok. So you were training on, on the Lancasters at this time. Had the atomic bombs been dropped? TF: No. GT: No. Ok, so you were, with this training in Tiger Force did they mention the Lincoln bombers to come? TF: I’d heard of them. I didn’t know what they were but, particularly what they were though but I did read afterwards that the British government and the American government had come to an agreement that we would send out Tiger Force which would consist of twenty squadrons of Lancasters plus 1830 Heavy Conversion Unit. Why that I don’t know but that was what we were on so we knew full well we were going to, to go out. GT: There was quite a numerous amount of squadrons of Mosquitoes to go as well I understand from the Tiger Force — TF: I would think. I would think so because the Mosquito was a fantastic aeroplane. GT: Certainly. So, they actually stated to you you were going to be going to Japan or bombing Japan. TF: Well, I suppose we’d be bombing Japan first, isn’t it? No. There were, one or two places were mentioned but I don’t think it was officially. Officially mentioned. GT: So how many flights did you do then in preparation for that? Because VE Day had happened. TF: VE day had happened. Yes. And it sort of quite regular really. I might also mention earlier on when we were on OTU on Wellingtons that one night there was somebody extra seemed to get in. Come on wearing a flying suit so you couldn’t see what he was or what his rank was but he was an extra person came along that night. And the following morning we found we were no longer had a radio operator in the crew. [pause] He’d, he’d been taken out and that was the Air Force way of doing things. You know, no chance to say cheerio or anything. It was just [pause] I’m assuming that he wasn’t up to scratch and he just disappeared and later in the day we just got a new one. GT: Did you have any, any idea that some of your crew members were unhappy or couldn’t take the strain? Or — TF: No. No idea at all. GT: And at this time you had done no overseas operational bombing — TF: No. GT: Sorties at that time. TF: No. GT: Because — TF: No, it was very shortly, we’d only been crewed up and flying for two or three times. That apparently is the RAF way of doing it. I think they thought it might be bad for morale. They just — GT: Were you made aware at the time of LMF? Lack of moral fibre. TF: Of any — GT: Lack of moral fibre. Were you aware of that term? TF: Not an awful lot. I think I heard more of it afterwards. I think it was a disgusting thing. We knew of its existence but I suppose you always adopted the attitude of well it wouldn’t happen to me, would it? GT: But you were a volunteer. All of you blokes were volunteers. Right? TF: Yes. GT: And they still treated you quite badly at that. TF: It was, it was dreadful. GT: Someone couldn’t keep it going. Ok. I’m assuming then that your navigator was, was removed from flying status because of his supposed lack of moral fibre and the way you described it. Would that be fair? TF: Well, I think it possibly, could be that he was. Just wasn’t efficient enough with his, it was the radio operator. I think it could be just that he wasn’t in it. But I don’t know whether [unclear] would have anything to do with it but I did know that he was only member I knew in the aircrew that was married. GT: Ok. Maybe he was removed so the war was finishing and they only wanted single, single men. TF: It could be. GT: Yeah. TF: But there was no reason given. It’s just he flew with us one night and then we never saw him again. GT: Right. So, when you did your training through on OTU and then on the HCU did you do any practice bomb dropping from the Wellingtons and then the Lancasters? TF: Just practice. GT: Just practice. Yeah. And how many hours have you accrued then for daylight and night time. Can you remember the flying hours you had done? TF: It wasn’t a great lot. GT: Now, Wellington. The Heavy Conversion Unit at that time is that pretty much where you much finished because you didn’t go to Lancaster Finishing School at all? TF: No. That was one of the things that always puzzled me. Why didn’t we go to a Lancaster Finishing School like other people? But I realised afterwards it was because we did all of it on Lancasters. The others that went to Lancaster Finishing School went on to Stirlings and Halifaxes and then just did a short time on Lancasters but we did the whole of Heavy Conversion on Lancasters. GT: Intriguing because most of the LFS Schools, Number 3 at Feltwell, for instance most of the 75 Squadron aircrew that I’ve talked with and seen their logbooks they only did four flights. Four to five flights in one week from a Stirling and then straight on to Lancaster. So, so you did, you did the full, that’s huge. Ok. So then, then came VJ day for you guys. TF: Ah huh. GT: And did flying pretty much cease because you were preparing for Tiger Force to get going to the Japan region. TF: Well, that was to say rather strange. What happened in my case was just before VJ Day I was told I had to go and see the CO. And I went to see him and he said, ‘Your demob’s going to be coming up shortly.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ I said. I said, ‘But,’ he said, ‘My job actually is to persuade you to sign on.’ He says, ‘Now, you could. If you were, the best thing you could do you know would be to sign on for twenty one years. You’ve done five years. Twenty one years you’ll be thirty nine. Eighteen when you joined. Twenty one years. Thirty nine. You’ll retire on a pension at thirty nine.’ Which sounds very nice but it was going to be only a very small pension anyhow. But anyway, I thought well I don’t think the peacetime Air Force is for me. I think, I always think of the words of a PT or drill instructor and he had a gathering of us to take for a PT session early one morning. Our names appeared on the notice board to attend for PT and we all knew it was because we’d done some minor infringement of rules and regulations and we, I went down and I had my PT kit on and I had a sweater or something on top. It was a bit chilly. And a lot of the Canadians, well they were mostly Canadians actually and most of them were commissioned and they came down in overcoats for the PT, so he said, well of course as you realise he had to be reasonably polite. He couldn’t speak as if they were just, ‘Hey you,’ do this or do that. He said, ‘Could you take your overcoats off?’ ‘Oh, no.’ ‘No? Why not?’ ‘It’ll be cold.’ He said, ‘Well, you can’t do PT in overcoats.’ ‘Well, we could try.’ [laughs] And he got really exasperated and said, ‘It’ll be a good job when this war’s over and we can have a proper Air Force without all this flying.’ And I thought my goodness an Air Force without flying. Does he think the Air Force’s main purpose is to do PT and march about and things like that? No. The peacetime Air Force wouldn’t be for me. GT: So, he swayed your decision to sign on further. Yeah. So, so you that chap was asking you to carry on as a bomb aimer. TF: Yes. GT: After the war. TF: And, after the war and he says or you could just sign on for six months. And I thought well what’s the point.? I’ve, you know I’ve got to adjust now to going back to Civvy Street. I’m not staying in the Air Force. I’m quite sure of that. I could not possibly put up with the peacetime. I could imagine it. Marching here and marching there. Life was so free and easy and things and also it was, they would probably be a little bit more strict on the visions of class. You know. I mean, in the aircrew when we’d done a, whether your crew were officers or sergeants you all went in for a meal the same, in the mess at the same time having, and we all used to use the same mess. It was all, you know nobody did any different but I should think that changed in peacetime. And so I said, ‘No. I don’t think I will.’ And then he said, ‘Well, if you won’t sign on you won’t do any more flying.’ And I thought is this man crazy? They’ve spent thousands of pounds training me in two years or so. Training me for this and now because I won’t sign on [pause] and I just cannot stand sort of being threatened like that. It just, that was just enough. So, I said, ‘Well, in that case I don’t do any more flying. So, later that day we were down for night flying and I went along to the, the briefing room and there was the board for tonight’s crews. And there was a sort of list down the side of the pilot’s names and the list along of the crew and I looked down. Flying Officer Jorgenson. Navigator Flight Sergeant Stobes, bomb aimer — it should have said Flight Sergeant Fisher. It had been rubbed out. And I was absolutely appalled. I didn’t think he really would have done it that quickly. I was really really annoyed and so, oh well that’s it. I don’t. So I did nothing for two or three days and then I thought well, I think I might as well go home for all the good I’m doing here. So I did. And then I started to worry about it a bit. You know, you’re being rather stupid if you get, if they discover you. You’d probably lose your stripes and crown and your demob pay would go way down. Way down. So you’d better go back. So I went back and at the same time I was relieved but at the same time it was not good for your ego to know that nobody had ever missed you. And anyhow, I went and saw the adjutant and said, ‘What am I supposed to do?’ He said, ‘What do you mean what do you do?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m not flying now.’ He said, ‘Well, whose crew were you in?’ And I told him. He looked up some records, he says, ‘That was a few weeks ago.’ ‘Oh yes. Yes.’ He said, ‘What have you done since then?’ I said, ‘Well, I’m waiting for a job.’ He says, ‘You mean you’ve sat on your behind and done nothing.’ ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I wouldn’t put it like that.’ He said, ‘I don’t see how else you can put it.’ Anyhow, he said, ‘Come in the office next to me and you can sort of help me. You can be a sort of assistant adjutant.’ So that’s what I did. But I didn’t like it at all. GT: So, there was no other aircrew. Had the same thing happened to them? Did he just single you out or was it common across — TF: Well, no. There was no more but as it happened after I had [unclear] him up for about forty years later and I got a telephone call and he mind, sort of said, ‘Am I speaking to Mr Fisher?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Thomas Fisher?’ ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Were you in the RAF?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘You used to like to spend your weekends at Cheltenham.’ And I said, ‘As it happens I did but how do you know all this?’ GT: Yeah. And what happened? TF: And he said, ‘Well,’ he says, ‘One final. One final question. Were you in Yorgeys crew?’ We always called him, he was always, his name was Jorgenson. He was always known as Yorgey. And I said, ‘Well, yes. Yes, but who are you?’ He said, ‘Well, I’m Frank, the wireless operator,’ he says, ‘And I’ve set myself a task of when I retired I was going to trace all the crew so that we could have, and see if we could have a reunion.’ And he said, I said, ‘How have you traced me? I live in Scotland now. I’ve moved from the North of England.’ He said, ‘Well, I’m with Scotland Yard and you must remember I’m used to tracing people and most of them don’t want to be traced.’ So, he, he said, ‘Can you think of any of the other names?’ I said, ‘Well, how far have you got?’ He says, ‘Well, I’ve discovered that Johnny is, only lived about forty miles from me. So we’ve been together and you’re the next one.’ And eventually went through with the aid of a newspaper ad, an advertisement and eventually traced all the crew and we met up. All met up again at Woodhall Spa. It was amazing to see each other after an absence of [pause] this would be about 1990. An absence of about forty five years. GT: So when you finished with, with the aircrew because as then flight sergeant you became deputy adjutant you didn’t keep in contact with your crew even though you were still the same? TF: No. With actually, this was the first, I gather that VJ Day the crew, I mean I just couldn’t understand it. We’d worked together all this time and then we only did two more practice flights and then that was, that was it. They’d actually gone on a train to go down to an RAF station. I think it was in Cornwall and the RAF police boarded the train and singled them out and said, ‘Will you get off at the next station and return back to your base. You’re not wanted anymore.’ So that was only a matter of days before VJ Day was announced. GT: Fascinating. That must have been really disappointing to spend all that time — TF: It just struck me as so ridiculous to think all this training that I’d had and why split a crew up? GT: And you were the only crew that you know of that this happened to. TF: Ah huh. GT: That recruiter, eh. He’s got a lot to answer for. TF: And then in many ways I was certainly glad I didn’t sign on because it wasn’t very long before bomb aimers were redundant [pause] The aircrews, most aircrews were now restricted to two. Pilot and a navigator. Bomb aimers were not wanted. Air gunners were no longer wanted. Radio operators were no longer, were no longer needed after a while because the pilot doesn’t need, you don’t need to use Morse Code anymore. You can speak plain language over hundreds of miles. GT: Mind you, you’d been given a lot of navigator training so most navigators later received bomb aiming training. TF: Could possibly. Possibly I had about that. But there was hundreds of us. Thousands in fact, I suppose. GT: The UK was awash with airmen wanting to do something. TF: And then just finally I got a bit fed up working in, just in the office and I asked the adjutant if I could, I thought well, perhaps I could go and learn to drive. That would be more sense. And — GT: So up to this point you’d never driven a vehicle. TF: Never driven at all. No. GT: Aged twenty one. Going on twenty two. TF: Ah huh. GT: Yeah. TF: No. I mean there must have been hundreds of us learned to fly a plane before we learned to drive a car. And he says, ‘Well, I could send you to Catterick and they’ll give you some tests and see what your suitable for.’ So I went to Catterick [laughs] and I had, I don’t know what these tests were. How they were worked out but and then in the central, he said, ‘I’ve got the result of your test and it appears you would be ideal for training as a butcher and cook.’ I said, ‘You are joking surely.’ And I can’t really, don’t believe what I was hearing. I had been, I was told I was suitable to train as a flight mechanic which is a higher grading. And then I was training as a bomb aimer navigator and now I’m just suitable to be a butcher. And that’s the one thing I could not stand was the sight of raw meat. And I said, ‘Well, that is out of the question. I just will not do that.’ He says, ‘Well, what would you do?’ I said, ‘Well, learn driving. He said, ‘Well, there’s no vacancies.’ He did try I must admit. ‘No vacancies in any driving school but I could send you to a transport company and you could do local training.’ So I did get transferred to this but I never did any training out there at all. What I was used for was to fill in gaps where people were away. If they were short of. Although I wasn’t an officer I would often do a parade and I would take part as orderly officer or something. Whenever they were a bit short I filled in for that. And then eventually I just got demobbed. But I was just so, to think I’d had blooming tests and now it turned out I would have been better off as a butcher. GT: That’s crazy. So did you follow up and look at the medals that you were entitled for your war service? TF: Just, I was just entitled to the, what everybody was. The Defence Medal and the, the war — GT: The ‘39/45 Star. TF: Star. Ah huh. GT: And, and did you send in to have them? Received them? TF: I did take them. GT: And you’ve got them now. TF: Ah huh. GT: You’ve still got them. TF: Ah huh. Incidentally I’ve got a photo here of the crew. GT: Oh ok. [pause] GT: Perhaps you can, I’ll tell you what we’ll finish the interview first there. TF: Ok. GT: And let’s have a look at those soon. But so from, from your time of being demobbed, Tom you obviously didn’t go the butcher route. So, what did you end up doing in your new civilian life? TF: Well, I had two things in mind. I was, one of the things that I thought I might have, might have had some help on instead of doing this silly business saying I could be a butcher or something I thought if they might have told us what grants were available for what training purposes. So, I had, when I was, before I joined I worked for my father as a, as a painter and decorator. So, I just went back to, to doing that and the Air Force and the government paid part of my wage because I’d left as an apprentice and there I was twenty two twenty three and I would not, I would expect better pay than [laughs] so they made up the difference. I can’t remember how long it was but they did it for so long and I sort of settled again and that. And then eventually I, I expect my father was getting a bit past it so I took over and I had quite a reasonable business. I got some quite some, quite good customers such as Lloyds Bank and I did quite a lot of decorating on hospitals and schools and things and, and then I also had a wallpaper and paint shop. And that, that was the rest of my, my life. GT: That was here in Dumfries? TF: No. It was in Sunderland. GT: Oh, ok. TF: But I [laughs] must say that the shop itself became a bit of a nuisance because the supermarkets, the Do it Yourself supermarkets were coming out. The price maintenance came off paint and wallpapers and so there was sort of cut price wars. And then to make things worse the shop got broken into twice. I got a bit fed up with hearing the telephone go in the middle of the night. ‘Something about your place. Can you get around?’ So this was including one practical joker who rang me up about 3 o’clock in the morning and said, ‘This is Sunderland Fire Brigade. ‘There’s a fire at your wallpaper shop. Can you get around?’ And I thought, oh no. ‘Yes.’ So I went back up to the bedroom and started to get dressed and my wife said, ‘What was that about?’ I said, ‘It’s just some fire. She said, ‘Well, ring the Fire Brigade.’ I said, ‘Well, that was the Fire Brigade that rang me.’ She said, ‘Well, how do you know?’ So, ‘I Don’t.’ So, I rang the Fire Brigade and they hadn’t phoned at all. It was just a hoax call trying to get me around in the middle of the night. GT: They were going to wait for you huh? So you met a lady and you married and had children I guess. TF: Yes. GT: Can you give us a little bit of your, your fond memories of that time? Who is your wife and your children? TF: Yes. Well, I I was sort of quite fond of going dancing and that seemed to be the way of meeting most people but and I met my wife at a, at a dance and I sort of had a few dances with her. One or two. And then they played, which was the custom in those days of the last dance was always a waltz and they usually sort of announces that, ‘Will you take your partners for the last waltz?’ Which, when that finished I said, ‘Well, I’ll sort of see you home.’ And she said, ‘Well, I live up at Grindon.’ And I thought that’s a bit far isn’t it? But she said, ‘I get a bus.’ I said, ‘Where do you get the bus from?’ Park Lane was the bus station. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I’ll go around that way.’ So, I went around that way and saw her on to the bus and arranged to see her again and then saw her two or three times and then it became quite a regular, a regular thing and and then that’s, we got married in 1950. And the problem was at that time was it was so difficult to get houses because with being so much bombing done at the places were instead of being streets of houses there were just streets of bomb sites and they were building new houses but the council where I lived in Sunderland would not allow any new houses to be built privately. Only council houses. And that was, created a problem. Well, firstly I didn’t want a council house and secondly you couldn’t get a council house until you’d had two children. So, so that’s how you fit that in was never explained. But eventually we, we looked at a few places and found somewhere we could live quite happily. I went, went in for it and I remember putting an offer in and the agents saying, ‘Well, mind I’m not having an auction, a Dutch Auction going on in my office, you know. If that’s your offer it has to be stick to that. If somebody comes along with better I’m not coming to see if you want to go any more.’ And then he added, ‘But I will place that offer before my client and I’ll advise her to accept it. And in a very short time I heard word that she had accepted and so we got well, the house if nothing else. And I got married in 1950. And, and I was sort of, you know having my own little business by then and, and then Julia and my other daughter came along and I think that was about it really, wasn’t it? I’d always wanted a wallpaper and paint shop and I just ran the business from my house you see and then someone sort of said he had one and he was retiring. He wanted to give it up, you know. He said would I like to take it and I said, ‘Yes. I think I’ll take it over. And and then we moved from where we were living until I was, just carried in until it was time to retire and my wife wanted to move somewhere else. She didn’t want to stay in Sunderland and I was quite happy there excepting I did get a bit fed up with having the shop broken into a couple of times but then I sold the shop anyhow. Then my house was broken into a couple of times and, and then I think I had my car broken into two or three times. So I thought well yes, I think I’ll agree. We’ll move. And my wife wanted to go down to Devon and, and I thought it’s nice. I like Devon. But I didn’t think I wanted to go that far the other end of the country you see. Anyhow, someone she knew suggested there was someone was building these houses just up this road and so we came through and had a look and decided to have one and I asked how much it would be. He said, ‘I’ll work you a price out.’ And this was in the middle of the summer and I always remember we got the price just as we were coming up to see you at Christmas. And so, after the Christmas we went, but unfortunately we couldn’t sell our other house it was just, so we had to let it go. So I had to ring the solicitor up and say we can’t go ahead with this and then the estate agents kept sending me a brochure and I looked at it one night when one came and I said, we’d sold our house in the meanwhile and I said [unclear] does this sound familiar to you, “In the village of Lonchinver, a three bedroom bungalow newly built. Just requires the purchaser to choose the bathroom and kitchen fittings.” That sounds like our house or what would have been our house and so I rang up and sure enough it was. So we came through to see it and it wasn’t quite like that. There was no walls up. It had a roof on but however we decided then we’d sort of decided we would move so we moved up over here. And that would be in nineteen, in 1991. So I’ve been here twenty six year now. GT: Grandchildren? TF: Two. One in Edinburgh and one in Aberdeen. GT: Wow. Very good. And and in your retirement did you settle and golf, tennis, bowls? TF: No. I I was never, never very keen on golf. No. I got, I bought a touring, a small touring caravan and we, we always went, we went once a year or two to a reunion and then went went away in the caravan about a month each year and a few weekends. And then I joined the Aircrew Association and they used to have some quite nice little breaks. About four day breaks. They were often connected with flying but not necessarily. Went down to Duxford for a few days. Up to the Scottish Memorial at East Fortune and Mildenhall. GT: Was the Air Force Association something that was important to you after serving in the RAF? TF: Not the Air Force Association itself but the Aircrew Association was. I suppose there were so many people in the Air Force Association and I did join actually. I more or less had to because they [laughs] they asked me to decorate their premises out and when they discovered that I’d been in the Air Force I really didn’t have any alternative but to join. But it wasn’t what I expected. It was merely a place to go and drink and a lot of the people they weren’t, hadn’t been in the Air Force anyhow. It was just, just a club to go drinking. But that wasn’t what I was looking for. But when I heard of the Aircrew Association I, it was a lady that my wife knew mentioned it and she said, ‘We have some really nice outings and get togethers. Why don’t you ask your husband if he wants to join?’’ So she mentioned it to me and then a few weeks later she said, ‘I’ll be seeing —' so and so, ‘This afternoon. What do I tell her? She’s sure to ask us if you would like to join.’ I said, ‘Tell her yes I would like to join. So, the following day a telephone call from the secretary and he said, ‘I understand you’re interested.’ I said, ‘Yes, I am.’ He said, ‘Yes, well. You were in the RAF.’ I said, ‘Oh yes, I definitely was.’ He said, ‘Do you know your number?’ I said, ‘Yes, I still know my number.’ And he said, ‘Were you aircrew? By that I mean not just did you fly but were you qualified?’ And I said, ‘Oh, yes.’ He said, ‘Well, I’ll make enquiries and we’ll be in touch.’ And obviously went to find out whether or not I’d actually, the bloke finally came back and he said, [unclear] so, ‘Would you like to come to our Christmas lunch?’ Which I did do. And well, regular quite regular lunches. Often here or down at the Valley and in the, in Dumfries. And then there was a monthly meeting so that was a regular thing then. But no, I never went in for golf or tennis or anything like that. GT: What about air shows? Do you still, do you still look at the different aircraft that the aircraft are flying today? Of any interest? TF: Not really. Not the ones today. I’ve always been more interested in in the old ones. In fact, there’s the Heathhall Airfield still have an aircraft museum and we are going there on Sunday, aren’t we? But yeah. GT: And have you been to East Kirkby or Hendon or Coningsby where the Lancaster is? TF: Yes. I went over to Coningsby and I saw the Lancaster in the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight. GT: Fabulous. And — TF: And that’s it. We were standing underneath it. GT: Very good. So, your crew you mentioned that one of your crew members managed to get hold of you. So are your crew still about? TF: No. I’m the only one left. GT: You’re the last one surviving, eh? TF: I’m the last one surviving. Ironically I was the oldest. GT: Gosh. Yeah. TF: I think at twenty two I was the old man of the crew. GT: Do you think bomb aimer was was the job for you in the end? Did it work for you? TF: It worked quite well yes. I mean. I quite, I would have been quite happy as a pilot but I realised that I was not in the position to be able if, if a plane got in to difficulties to get it out. Flying straight and level I could cope with quite well but if something happened you know I wouldn’t have been any use at all. And navigator? Well, bomb aimer and navigator were the same thing really. I think the only difference was the navigator did, went deeper into it and they did a thing called a square search which we never never did. But I mean we were expected to be able to navigate a plane. I mean, as an example we were flying in a Lancaster once and the radio operator says there, ‘Skip, the wireless if off. The radio. I can’t get anything on it at all.’ So, Johnny called and said, ‘Well, really you know we’re not supposed to fly over the sea without radio. What do you think, Eric?’ That was to the navigator. ‘Oh, press on.’ ‘What do you think Thomas?’ ‘Oh, press on regardless. Not a little thing like a radio going to stop us.’ So, we did and that was alright. And then suddenly there was a shout from Len, ‘Hey skip, port engine’s gone. Oil pressure’s right gone. There’s no pressure there at all.’ Oh, feather the port inner.’ And then it wasn’t very long before, The starboard engine’s now gone.’ So [laughs] so things looked to be getting bad. So we had two, just two engines and at the same time I heard the navigator, I think the navigator swearing away to himself you see and he said, ‘Oh skipper, the H2S is not working.’ And Dennis says, ‘Oh, well Tom will take over the navigating now.’ I said, ‘I’m sorry but Gee’s not working either.’ So, he says, well we had to get back to the old method of, of getting a bearing where you could and a course and came back to North Luffenham and called up on the radio. That was the one where you sent Morse messages out but plain talk on the other one was ok. And Johnny calls up and requests permission to land and they said, ‘We’re sorry. You can’t land here. There’s too thick fog so you can go to —’ It was somewhere near Oxford, and they gave us a course to fly if we went down there and we got there and then it was quite exciting in a way because you heard the flying control say to, ‘Clear all aircraft off. Emergency landing.’ And Johnny had called up and said, ‘Well, we’ve only got two engines. So yes. Emergency.’ And you saw the crash tent and ambulance coming up to meet us at the end of the runway and then race to be alongside us and you thought ee gosh, you know, in a couple of minutes time I could be in the back of that ambulance. Or I might just be walking away. So I think I’d better get down in to a crash position and go down with my back to the main spar and then thankfully you felt a bump bump bump. We’re down now. We’re alright. GT: Because your bomb aimer’s position is lying prone in the nose, isn’t it? TF: With your back on to the main spar. GT: Yeah. TF: In the event of an emergency the bomb aimer gets the, lifts the first aid kit off the hook and takes a chopping axe off it’s thing. Stuffs them down in the front of his battledress and gets your back of the main spar and then that’s it. GT: I can’t think of anything worse that’s going to kill you it’s an axe stuffed in your pocket. Yeah. Well, well Tom is it, you’ve given us such an amazing amount of your recollections and your time obviously the war finished before you got a chance — TF: Finished. Yes. GT: To do any operations per se but do you remember any of your friends that that got on operations? Did anybody talk to you about what they saw? What happened. TF: Well, one thing I do remember is that after that I volunteered to be a flight mechanic air gunner and then the CO’d recommended for pilot training. I’d been down, had a selection board, came back there was a thing came out, “Would flight mechanic volunteer to change to flight engineer?’ And my friend did that. Changed to flight engineer and he was away, oh I had only just started my training when he was away and trained and we kept in touch. We always wrote and, and then he got, he brought the plane back from Germany and got a Distinguished Flying Medal when the pilot was killed. And I looked a bit surprised to see when he put it on his letterhead. He was still [unclear] DFM and then, I was just starting really. Just starting probably two or three years past Cambridge when I’d kept in touch as I say and I wrote to him and I got the letter back and it was just marked, “Return to Sender.” And it had been opened, got my address out and sent back and he, obviously the reason for that was that he hadn’t come back. And when we were at Lincoln I looked at the [pause] at the Memorial numbers and sure enough his name was on. So he, he’d actually gone on ops, it would only be a few weeks training at St Athans and he’d gone on ops and I hadn’t even finished, hadn’t even got down to flying training. GT: So as a flight engineer he got on to ops pretty much straight away. TF: Straightaway. GT: He was. TF: He didn’t do, didn’t do any flying training. Didn’t do any OTU or anything like that. Just go straight to a squadron. GT: Do you think that saved your life then? TF: Or possibly might have been to Heavy Conversion Unit. GT: Do you, you consider then that because that would have been say perhaps a year and a half’s worth of the war if you didn’t choose flight engineer. Could that have saved your life too, do you think? TF: It could have done. Yes. If I hadn’t, if I hadn’t picked the flight mechanic engineer and got recommended for pilot training if I hadn’t done that I would have automatically probably have gone with him and just been a flight engineer. Actually, I did wonder about changing when he went. And then I thought well look you’ve had this altered in your paybook from now I would say trade or category FME UT PNB and you’d also a bomb aimer and a pilot navigator were a higher category than a flight engineer and you got a better pay so I thought well, I’d better just let things go. But yes, it was a very lucky, lucky thing to happen. GT: Yeah. Tom, you still have your logbook. TF: Ah huh. GT: It’s ok. So have you given a copy of this to the IBCC? TF: No. GT: Because I can arrange if that’s the case. If you have not then we can arrange for that. TF: I, the, the museum up at Heathhall took a photostat copy of it. GT: They might have that in their local files but the IBCC are very keen to, to be able to copy yours in a high resolution file and as a point of note for the recording Tom is showing me photographs of his crew both at the time of training and also later on in nineteen ninety, nineteen ninety something there. TF: 1991. GT: Yeah. In front of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight aircraft which looks like Coningsby. TF: It is, yeah. GT: Yeah. Coningsby. So, so Tom would you, would you like to also approve that copies of these photographs can also go to the IBCC? TF: Yes. Yeah. GT: Fabulous. Right. TF: Went to, went to the first reunion we had was at Woodhall Spa which is just a few miles from Coningsby and had arranged that we would see the Battle of Britain of Britain Memorial Flight Lancaster and they’d also arranged that we would go in it. And we all went in and took up our respective positions. One in the rear turret, mid-upper turret. Me down in the bomb, in the bomb section and there was it seemed to me, I don’t know where they came from but there was an awful lot of people snapping photos of us in there and they said, ‘That’s the first time ever that we’ve ever had a complete crew come.’ They said, ‘Plenty of people come but never as a complete crew.’ So that was at, at Coningsby at our first reunion. GT: So, when you left your crew how long did they stay together after that? TF: Oh, it was a matter of days. GT: Oh, it was. Ok. So, it wasn’t — TF: Well, one, one went as a airfield control. Another one went in charge of a group of German prisoners to close an airfield down and transfer all, all the goods up to, to somewhere else. And apparently I gather, that he had only problem tracing two. And one was the mid-upper gunner. A Welsh boy. And he knew he was Welsh so he put something in the Cardiff, in the Cardiff newspaper and, but the boy himself didn’t see it but his ex-wife saw it and thought that sounds as if it could be Terry and told him. And he was very cagey about it. He was wondering [laughs] what the reason why he was ringing him up about. GT: Fascinating. Well, Tom, I I think you have duly covered your career, your life your service very well and it’s been an honour and a pleasure to come and interview you today and I’m going to make sure that this copy gets to the IBCC by next week and I’m sure that you’ll receive some form of communication from them. So — TF: Ah huh. GT: But it’s, it’s been a great afternoon so thank you very much. We’re also going to get some photographs and — TF: I might also add that we did get a little bit of a bit of a reward in as much that in nineteen, in 2005 was it the Lottery granted money for people to visit when they’d served anywhere abroad and at, I went to Canada. And then again in 2010. GT: And you visited your, the previous Training Schools where you were. TF: Yes, because it turned out that the Navigation School was now Toronto Airport. GT: So that was pretty easy to go back and see the Commonwealth Training Scheme areas. TF: And then we did another one in 2010. About seven years ago now, wasn’t it? Oh, we did another one and in this case they said you can take the, they would pay the cost for a carer to go as well. [unclear] asked if she would be a carer for us. GT: So, have you been to the Bomber Command Memorial in London yet? TF: Not in London. GT: Ok. TF: Just the one in Lincoln. GT: So, you’ve been to Lincoln and you’ve seen the Spire. What do you think of the Spire? TF: Well, it makes you realise the Lancaster’s wingspan is very, it’s quite wide. Yes its, its quite good. Actually, I thought the whole set up that they had at this opening ceremony had been very well thought out and was quite well, really well organised. GT: And you are prepared and getting ready to go to the opening of the archives building, Chadwick Hall. And that will be early in 2018. Just coming up. TF: I don’t, I wouldn’t know. I doubt if I’ll be at that time but I — GT: Oh well, I can promise you Tom that your record that you’ve just been telling me today will be in the IBCC Archives and they’ll be, they’ll be honoured and thanking you very much for that. So, I think we can, we can safely say that I can now complete the interview with you, Tom. TF: Ah huh. GT: And thank you very much. TF: Not at all. GT: For your time. So, this was Thomas Fisher and I have been in the company of Diana Harrington and Julian McLennan and this is Glen Turner who has come to interview Tom today. My service was Royal New Zealand Air Force for thirty years as an armaments technician, so now secretary of 75 Squadron Association I am honoured and pleased to help out the IBCC with interviews of the Bomber Command crews from World War Two. Signing off. Thank you very much. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Thomas Fisher Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Glen Turner Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-07-26 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AFisherT170726, PFisherT1701 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Pending revision of OH transcription Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 02:04:40 audio recording Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Lincolnshire Wales--Glamorgan Description An account of the resource Thomas Fisher initially trained as a fitter in the RAF. When the Air Ministry announced that flight engineers were needed from the ranks of the ground mechanics he volunteered for training. The CO was surprised that he volunteered and asked him if it was only because he wanted to fly and, if so, he should apply to train as a pilot. Thomas didn’t have a school certificate but the CO encouraged his application anyway and he began training. He enjoyed the flying but not having to do emergency manoeuvres. Initially, Thomas was working at RAF Digby as a fitter on Spitfires for 92 Squadron. He was then posted to 417 Squadron at RAF Charmy Down, before being posted to 14 Group Headquarters at RAF Inverness. He joined Bomber Command as a bomb aimer and was prepared to join Tiger Force. Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942 1944-07-04 1945 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Julie Williams Maureen Clarke 20 OTU 21 OTU aircrew Anson bomb aimer bombing flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Heavy Conversion Unit Lancaster Operational Training Unit RAF Digby RAF Lossiemouth RAF Moreton in the Marsh RAF St Athan Spitfire Sunderland Tiger force training https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/2851/50855/PMilsonAE18010017.2.jpg 4c67d113dfef5da5e00d1133d5e1ccc2 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/2851/50855/PMilsonAE18010018.2.jpg 1739243ed3dae6adf4963c3543ff291b Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Millson, Albert Edward Millson, A E Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Millson, AE Description An account of the resource 78 items. The collection concerns Wing Commander Albert Edward Millson DSO DFC and Bar (1921 - 2009, 754001 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, news clippings and photographs. He flew operations as a pilot with 101 and 102 Squadrons, and in the Far East. After the war he served in Transport Command. The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Wendy Eaton and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2018-10-05 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document [photograph – Lancaster bombers against sky] [page break] [insert] 8 [/insert] BRITISH OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPH. CH. 8785. XF. AIR MINISTRY PHOTOGRAPH. CROWN COPYRIGHT RESERVED. “T FOR TOMMY” MAKES A SORTIE. “T for Tommy” a giant Lancaster bomber has made raids over Germany, Italy, and enemy occupied countries. It carries a crew of seven – including men from New Zealand and Canada as well as from England. The Skipper was a bank cashier in civil life; the Wireless Operator an engineer; the Flight Engineer worked on a farm; the Navigator was a student; the Rear-gunner worked for the Egyptian Government; the Bomb-aimer was a blacksmith and the Mid-upper Gunner dealt in whilesale [sic] pies. Looking after “T for Tommy” are the ground crew. Flight Mechanics, Fitters, Armourers watch the career of “T for Tommy” with pride, and look on it as “their” Lancaster. From the time “T for Tommy” starts off on a raid, until it returns, an anxious watch is kept by the operations room staff. “T for Tommy” makes a sortie. The giant Lancaster and its crew before, during and after a raid. Picture made during preparations for an actual raid shows;- The big machines lined up for the take-off. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Lancasters at sunset Description An account of the resource Four Lancasters silhouetted by the setting sun. One nose is side on and two are front viewed. The fourth is behind and viewed from the side. On the reverse is 'British Official Photograph. "T for Tommy makes a sortie". There is information about the crew. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Photograph Text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource One b/w photograph Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context PMilsonAE18010017, PMilsonAE18010018 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Mark Hodkinson Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Great Britain. Air Ministry air gunner aircrew bomb aimer fitter airframe fitter engine flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew Lancaster navigator pilot wireless operator https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/694/22456/OBarrettR1863228-170515-01.2.pdf 26203d68a2457282cc676cfb427287aa Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Barrett, Raymond R Barrett Description An account of the resource 30 items. An oral history interview with Leading Aircraftsman Raymond Barrett (1924 -2017, 1863228 Royal Air Force) a memoir, diary, documents and photographs. He served as an engine mechanic in North Africa, Italy and India. The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Raymond Barrett and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-05-15 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Barrett, R Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Raymond Barretts RAF form 2520A Description An account of the resource 1863228 LAC Barrett, R. Service and Release Book from RAF Kirkham. Serving in RAFVR from 11 November 1942 until 31 January 1947, as a Flight Mechanic Engines. Contains very brief details of his service. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Great Britain. Royal Air Force Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1947-01-31 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Printed booklet with handwritten annotations Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context OBarrettR1863228-170515-01 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Lancashire Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1947-01-31 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel mechanics engine RAF Kirkham https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/530/23972/LShawSR3002545v1.2.pdf 773c5f8cba859cc92a945416183f8997 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Shaw, Stanley R S R Shaw Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Shaw, SR Description An account of the resource 37 items. An oral history interview with Stanley Shaw (3002545 Royal Air Force) Photographs, documents and his log book. He served with a Repair and Salvage Unit and attended many crashes. He later served in North Africa and the Middle East. The collection also contains two photograph albums; one of his RAF service and one of his time in a cycle club. The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Stanley Shaw and catalogued by Barry Hunter. Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-01-14 2016-02-11 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Stanley Shaw’s observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book Description An account of the resource Observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book for S R Shaw, covering the period from 21 July 1942 to 1 March 1947. Detailing flying with the Air Training Corps and following training as an airframe fitter his service flying, and his flying with the communications flight at Aden, where he was reclassified as flight mechanic air. He was stationed at RAF Burnaston, RAF Ashbourne, RAF Bobbington (aka RAF Halfpenny Green), RAF Hixon, RAF Hethel, RAF Watton and RAF Aden. Aircraft flown in were Magister, Anson, Wellington, Liberator, Mosquito and Lancastrian. The log book also lists his civilian flying details and that of I M Shaw for the period 1963 to 1984. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Great Britain. Royal Air Force Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Mike Connock Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource One booklet Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Log book and record book Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context LShawSR3002545v1 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain Yemen (Republic) England--Derbyshire England--Norfolk England--Staffordshire Yemen (Republic)--Aden Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942 1943 1944 1945 1946 1947 Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Review Oct 2024 Anson B-24 fitter airframe flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Lancastrian Magister Mosquito RAF Halfpenny Green RAF Hethel RAF Hixon RAF Watton training Wellington https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1970/33769/MWakefieldHE174040-171016-52.2.jpg 31c0caea021f26e3423f360b364e268d Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Wakefield, Harold Ernest H E Wakefield Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2017-10-16 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Wakefield, HE Description An account of the resource 93 items. The collection concerns Harold Ernest Wakefield DFC (1923 - 1986, 1582185 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, training publications, decorations and badges, training notebooks, correspondence, newspaper cuttings, photographs and parachute D ring. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 51 and 617 Squadrons. The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jeremy Wakefield and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document Telephone: Reading 81685. RECORD OFFICE, ROYAL AIR FORCE, WANTAGE HALL, READING, BERKS. Date: 4 JUN 1942 Ref: ZA1/17230. To: No. 1582185 AC2 Wakefield, H. E. With reference to your acceptance for service for training as a wireless operator with a view to eventual employment as Wireless Operator/Air Gunner, you are informed that owing to circumstances which have arisen it will not be possible for you to become a fully qualified Wireless Operator/Air Gunner for a very long time. 2. You are therefore invited to accept alternative training as a Flight Mechanic, with a view eventually to qualifying as a Flight Engineer (a fitter, who is a member of the crew of multi-engined aircraft). In this way you will, if you pass all your stages of training satisfactorily, become "aircrew" earlier than if you remain in your present mustering. 3. Applicants who are considered suitable will be trained first for the trade of Flight Mechanic (Group II), and subsequently for the trade of Fitter II E(group I). On qualifying as Fitter II E further training will be given to fit them for aircrew duties. Candidates must pass each stage of training with a high standard in order to qualify themselves for the next stage. Candidates who eventually qualify as Flight Engineers will receive N.C.O. rank and wear the Air Gunner badge. 4. Please tear off the reply slip below, and complete and return it in the paid addressed envelope enclosed, at an early date. Arrangements will be made for your early recall from deferred service, if you accept. You will undergo a trade test on recall, and if you are not considered suitable for the training outlined above, you will be retained in the service for training in your existing category. You should clearly understand that if you accept this invitation you will have to remuster to ACH/Flight Mechanic if found fit. [signature] for Air Commodore, Air Officer i/c Records, Royal Air Force. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Letter to Harold Wakefield from RAF records office Description An account of the resource States that he would not be possible for him to be a fully qualified wireless operator/air gunner for a long rime and invites him to consider an alternative as a flight engineer. Outlines flight engineer training. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Great Britain. Royal Air Force Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1942-06-04 Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942-06-04 Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Berkshire England--Reading Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Correspondence Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource One page typewritten letter Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending text-based transcription. Under review Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context MWakefieldHE174040-171016-52 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Sue Smith aircrew flight engineer flight mechanic ground crew training wireless operator / air gunner https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1402/57723/MMunneryC1861258-191009-020001.jpg 1d6f20b8b397cbaca08259ccbe9bf01a https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1402/57723/MMunneryC1861258-191009-020002.jpg 678086a86f34f698ab79088cc90794da Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Munnery, Charlie C Munnery Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-01-26 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Munnery, C Description An account of the resource Ten items. The collection concerns Leading aircraftman Charlie Munnery (b. 1913, 1861258 Royal Air Force) and contains identity card, document, newspaper cuttings and photographs. He served as a flight mechanic and survived a bullet wound to the head. The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Maureen Ann Aldington and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Royal Air Force brief statement of service and certificate of discharge Description An account of the resource Made out for Charles Munnery. Gives personal details, statement of special aptitudes or qualities or recommended employment. Trade was flight mechanic (engineer). Notes on reverse. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Great Britain. Royal Air Force Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942-10-20 1945-10-18 Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Printed form with typewritten entries Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context MMunneryC1861258-191009-02 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/193/30990/BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1-01.pdf 8262794404d2ef0dfee19a3f5bd97a8e https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/193/30990/BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1-02.pdf 7e6e96679a1915a0c9b98fb636e9cf11 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Yeoman, Harold Harold Yeoman Harold T Yeoman H T Yeoman Description An account of the resource 31 items. Collection concerns Harold Yeoman (b. 1921 1059846 and 104405 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a pilot with 12 Squadron. Collection contains an oral history interview, a memoir, pilot's flying log book, 26 poems, a photograph and details of trail of Malayan collaborator. The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Christopher E. Potts and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-10-28 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Yeoman, HT Transcribed document A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document Start of transcription [underlined] LOOSE ON THE WIND [/underlined] Harold Yeoman [page break] To those who never came back. [page break] Their voices, dying as they fly, Loose on the wind are sown; The names of men blow soundless by, My fellows’ and my own. A.E. Houseman, “A Shropshire Lad”, XXXVIII. “And how can a life be loved that hath so may embitterments, [sic] and is subject to so many calamities and miseries? How too can it be called a life, that begetteth [sic] so many deaths and plagues?” Thomas a Kempis, “The Imitation of Christ”. [page break] [underlined] LOOSE ON THE WIND [/underlined] Author’s foreword Never no more We would never fly like that Lennie It makes you think ‘Yes, my darling daughter’ Crewing-up Images of mortality Tony Mind you don’t scratch the paint Rabbie Letter home Low-level A boxful of broken china The end of Harry Silver spoon boy Intermezzo Overshoot First solo The pepper pot Approach and landing Knight’s move A different kind of love Sun on a chequered tea-cosy Photograph in a book Glossary [page break] [underlined] AUTHOR’S FOREWORD [/underlined] During the years of the Second World War, some 90,000 men, from the British Isles, from the great Dominions overseas and from the countries of Europe overrun by the German enemy, volunteered as aircrew in Bomber Command of the Royal Air Force. Of these men, over 55,000 were to lose their lives and, to this day, more than 20,000 of that total have no known graves. In one particular operation there were more Bomber Command aircrew killed than there were casualties during the entire Battle of Britain. There were many men whose names will bear for ever an aura of unfading brilliance, men such as Leonard Cheshire, (whom for a brief time I was privileged to know) such as Guy Gibson, or John Searby. There were also the thousands who could not aspire to the greatness of those remarkable men, to their almost unbelievable heights of courage and achievement. To attempt to assess what we in Bomber Command did achieve is no part of my aim. Much greater minds and more highly skilled pens than mine have already done this. This small piece of writing is solely an attempt, through the window of personal recollection, to tell of a few of the incidents which affected me and of a few of the splendid young men whom I was fortunate enough to know and to call my friends. Many, all too many of them, alas, gave their lives as part of the price of our freedom, the freedom from an unspeakable tyranny, that freedom which we now so casually enjoy and take so easily for granted. If, in this small book, I have planted their names like seeds in the garden of future years for even a few eyes other than my own to read, for a few other minds to remember, then I shall have done what I set out to do. An eminent air historian has recently quoted some words which I wrote to him, words which I now venture to repeat. I said, “We simply had our jobs to do and we tried to do them as best we could.” I believe that sums it up. Harold Yeoman November 1994 [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Never no more [/underlined] [/inserted] “….. And through the glasse [sic] wyndow [sic] Shines the sone. [sic] How should I love, and I so young? …..” (Anon.) [page break] [underlined] NEVER NO MORE [/underlined] There was something icy cold running down my face and a brilliant light was shining into my eyes. “What on earth?” I heard myself mutter. I came to rapidly out of a deep sleep and tried to wriggle away from the cold wetness which was finding its way down my pyjama collar, but I could not escape it, nor the blinding glare. “What’s going on?” I half-shouted, then I saw her hand holding the dripping sponge. Bright sunshine was pouring through my window that winter morning. A pale, laughing face framed in jet-black hair behind the hand. She was sitting on the side of my bed. “Betty!” I shouted, “Stop it! What the heck are you doing?” “Saturday,” she answered brightly, twisting the sponge away from my hand, “Saturday, and it’s your day off. We were going for a walk, do you remember?” Her dark, lustrous eyes shone with mischief. I wiped my face on the sleeve of my pyjama jacket and shuddered with the cold. I tried to pull the blankets back around me, but she pulled them firmly down again to chest level. What on earth would my parents think, I wondered, a young girl coming into my bedroom – they’d have a fit. It was almost too much for them when I’d insisted on volunteering for aircrew when I was nineteen, but this - ! “I’ve brought you a cup of tea; now hurry up and drink it, ‘cos it’s breakfast time.” Betty got off the bed, handed me the cup and made for the door. “Don’t be long now, and if you don’t take me for that walk, I’ll never speak to you again, never no more.” “What, never, never no more?” I mimicked. “No, never no more.” She grinned, but pretended to be in a huff and flounced out, tossing her shiny black hair which gleamed like coal in the morning sunlight. It became a silly, affectionate catch-phrase between us. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] We had arrived at the Knight’s home at almost the same time; Betty from Coventry, after the air-raid, I from Initial Training Wing, to start my flying training at Sywell, a few miles from the centre of Northampton. We had seen the bombing from a safe distance, out of the train windows, on the way up from our I.T.W. at Torquay overnight. We had stopped, miles from anywhere, for hours, it seemed, while the raid progressed. We could hear the Jerries droning overhead and saw the fire on the horizon. “Someone’s getting a hell of a pasting,” we had said. Betty, then, was a refugee. Near misses from H.E.s had decided her parents to evacuate her from the shattered and blazing city to the safer home of her aunt and uncle; the R.A.F. billeting authorities had decided to send me to the Knights at the same time. So we quickly became friends; we were both of an age and of similar dispositions, light-hearted, fun-loving, undemanding and contented by nature. Two of a kind, I thought. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . We walked in Abington Park. It was brilliantly sunny but bitterly cold, a wonderful December day. There was snow on the ground, the bare trees were black and stark against the clear winter sky. With my white u/t pilot’s flash in the front of my forage cap I swaggered a little. Why not? I was very proud of it. My buttons gleamed, my boots shone like glass. “Bags of swank!” our drill Corporal used to shout at us as we marched through Torquay, and we obeyed that command, always. I was proud of myself and I was proud to be walking out with Betty. She was a lovely girl, her face in repose calm and radiant as some Italian Renaissance Madonna in a painting. “No, I haven’t gone solo yet,” I was saying as we walked, “but I’ve only done nine hours up to now, you know” “How long will it take you, do you think?” “Oh, any minute now, but my instructor puts me off a bit, he is rather bad-tempered.” (‘Can you see that other aircraft?’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Well then, are you going to fly round it or through it?’) “That’s not very nice, is it?” “No, not very, but I try not to let him put me off.” [page break] “Will you be getting any leave at Christmas?” “Don’t suppose so, Betty; I mean to say, I’ve only been in three months altogether and we did get a 48 hour pass from Torquay, you know.” . . . . . . . . . . . . The Knights had a radiogram in the lounge of their comfortable semi-detached house. “Look what I got for Christmas,” Betty exclaimed, holding out a blue-labelled record in its cardboard envelop, “would you like to hear it?” “What is it?” I asked. “Hutch.” I had little or no idea who or what Hutch was, then. “Yes, please,” I said. She put the record on and straightened up, standing before me in her simple, grey dress. The creamy, brown voice came out of the loudspeaker and I was immediately seized by some emotion which I had never before experienced. “That certain night, the night we met, There was magic abroad in the air,” sang Hutch, and Betty was humming the tune along with him. “There were angels dining at the Ritz And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.” To this day, when I play that on my hi-fi and hear Hutch’s lovely velvet voice and perfect diction, I am back with Betty at Mrs. Knight’s, falling beautifully and adolescently in love with her from the exact moment that she played me that song. I find it, still, an unbearably moving experience, one which brings a lump into my throat and tears to my eyes. “Did you like that? Do you want to hear the other side?” “Oh, yes, please, I’d like to.” On the other side was “All the things you are,” and it couldn’t have fitted my mood better, either. She was all the things which Hutch was singing about. “That’s a wizard record, Betty,” I said. She smiled happily. . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] “Gosh, I’ve never had champagne before, Mr. Knight,” I said. “Well, you went solo on Christmas Eve, when we were away and now you’ve done your first solo cross-country today, so you can try some, to celebrate, apart from the fact that it’s New Year’s Day, of course.” “Well, thanks very much, and – cheers!” “Cheers,” from Mr. Knight, “and happy landings.” “Chocks away,” Betty said. Now where had she learned that? “Would you like to hear another new record?” “Oh, yes, I would, very much. What is it?” “’You’d be so nice to come home to’, it’s called,” she said, “do you know it?” “No, I’ve never heard that one.” She put the record on and I listened as I sipped the unfamiliar but strangely disappointing wine. I thought, “Yes, you would be so nice to come home to, Betty darling.” Maybe it was the wine after all. But I really didn’t know how to say that sort of thing to her. How did one start? Besides, my mind was still full of the voice of Flying Officer Lines from earlier that wonderful day. “You don’t need me, do you? I am going to have a sleep. Wake me up if anything goes wrong.” And pulling out his speaking tube he had wriggled down into the front cockpit, out of the slipstream, that New Year’s morning, as I set course, droning over snowy Sywell in the bitterly cold sunshine. He was a Battle of Britain Hurricane pilot, instructing for a so-called rest, and trusting me, with only thirty hours in my log-book, to fly from Sywell to unknown Cambridge, land, and come back again. If you did the trip without assistance from your instructor it counted as solo time, and I had done that. My cup of happiness was full, that day. “You’d be paradise to come home to and love”, went the song as the record ended. I sighed. “Yes, she would be,” I thought, “but how on earth do you go about actually saying things like that to Betty?” There were all manner of things I undoubtedly wanted to say to [page break] her. But I hadn’t even kissed her yet, and you couldn’t say some things without kissing somebody first, could you? Besides, she might not want me to. So how, and when, did, or could, one start? It was very difficult, rather like trying to do a perfect three-point landing. . . . . . . . . . . . . Every other Friday we were paid. I was rich beyond my wildest imaginings. From the two shillings a day at Torquay I had progressed to no less than five pounds four shillings each fortnight. That was as a mere Leading Aircraftman. What I would be paid if ever I became a Sergeant pilot the imagination simply couldn’t tell me. I used to split the money carefully into equal parts and with one half burning a hole in my pocket and the Friday evening feeling joyously pervading my system my little world was at my feet until Monday morning. I would go into Northampton, to the “Black Boy” in the main square, for a mixed grill and a pint of black-and-tan, sometimes with Len or Eric, sometimes alone. It became the high point of my week. We would sit and talk flying to our hearts’ content, comparing notes on our experiences. In retrospect how limited they were and how naive we were, and yet how miraculous and other-worldly it seemed to me to know the unutterable thrill of open-cockpit flying in the freezing winter air, strapped tightly into the fragile machine whose engine purred bravely in front of me; the wonder of the view of the blue-green and white hazy landscape spread out below, the icy slipstream on my numbed face, the thrill of the response, under my hands and feet, of the aircraft to small, smooth movements of the controls. There was the magic of the rising, tilting and falling of the snow-covered, mottled, dim countryside, blotched with the smoke of towns, the dazzling red disc of the sun as it set in the haze, the ecstasy of sideslipping [sic] in over the hedge and of smoothly straightening out the glide to set her down for a perfect three-pointer on to the frosty grass near the other Tigers, while a few fellow-pupils watched critically, and while over at the Vickers shed the engines of a great black Wellington rumbled ominously. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] “Are you coming down to the Y.M. tonight, Harold?” My head was down over my books, in the dining room. I wasn’t finding the theory of flight too easy. “Oh. Yes, I’ll be along; are you going to be there?” “Well, I work there there [sic] three nights a week now, you know. Auntie thought I should do something to help the war effort until I’m called up.” (Called up? I hadn’t thought of that; somehow I couldn’t imagine Betty in uniform.) “O.K., I’ll see you down there later, then, I’ve got just about an hour’s work to do. Keep a chocolate biscuit for me, will you?” She waggled her fingers, crinkled her nose smilingly, and went out. . . . . . . . . . . . . I landed for the last time at Sywell in a Tiger Moth, sideslipping [sic] off the height and greasing her down on to the grass. I let the aircraft rumble to a halt, then I taxied carefully to the dispersal tents, faced her into wind and switched off. The prop juddered to a stop. An erk ducked down to chock the wheels. Dusk was beginning to fall; I could see Alex Henshaw, Vickers’ Chief Test Pilot, on the circuit in his Spitfire. Everyone always stopped whatever they were doing to watch him fly, it was part of our education. But my eyes always returned to the huge black bulk of the Wellington by their hangar. I pulled out my harness pin and released the straps carefully, so as not to damage the aircraft’s fabric. I sighed and reluctantly, as one would part from a girl, I climbed out of the cockpit. A chapter had ended. . . . . . . . . . . . . “I don’t know exactly where, Betty, except that it’s overseas. The lads are all saying Canada, but no-one ever tells us much. I suppose we’ll not know until we get there. There’s a few posted to S.F.T.S.s in England, Hullavington, Cranfield, places like that, but ten of us are definitely on the boat.” She looked down at her cup of tea. We were sitting together in [page break] the Y.M.C.A.; she had an hour off duty. The place was full of uniforms, but I scarcely notice them, I only had eyes for her. “Will it be soon?” “Next week, they think.” “Harold - ?” “Yes, what?” “Oh, well, nothing. You will write, won’t you?” “Of course I will, Betty, yes, I’ll write to you as often as I can.” “What will you be flying?” “Harvards or Oxfords, I suppose, I’m not really sure.” “What do you want to go on to, fighters or bombers?” (Strange, how civilians thought there were only those two categories of pilot, but I suppose the news the press and radio gave concerned mainly those two. After all, they were the types mostly at the sharp end of things. But I thought of Betty, huddled fearfully in the shelter, that night of the Coventry raid and I felt a sudden and great anger that she should have had to endure that. And I thought of the Wellington over at the Vickers hangar at the aerodrome, sinister, powerful, black, and from then on I was never in any doubt.) “Bombers,” I said firmly, “definitely bombers.” . . . . . . . . . . . It is strange that I don’t remember saying goodbye to Betty, nor to the Knights, if it comes to that. I must have done so, of course, but sadly, I cannot bring the occasions to mind. I did go to Canada. Once we got out west we worked hard and we flew hard, by day and by night. We got no leave, very little time off. We didn’t particularly want any. Things were getting rather urgent back home. Besides, I wanted to hurry back to Betty, and to my parents, too, of course. I wrote to her as often as I could. She sent me her photograph, smiling and lovely in that grey dress, but I’m afraid I haven’t got it now. I got my wings a few days before my twentieth birthday. In the late summer, after a stopover in Iceland, I was back in England, and with a couple of Canadian chaps, splendid fellows whom I had [page break] met on the boat, I was posted to a Wellington Operational Training Unit at Bassingbourne, not too far from Northampton. Most of my buddies went on to fighters. As it happened, they had a little more future than us bomber boys. Not much, but a little. Of course, I was longing to see Betty again. As soon as I had settled in I phoned the Knights one evening. It was an interminable business, repeating their number to different operators, waiting while the line buzzed and crackled, while disembodied and unreal voices spoke unintelligibly to one another in hasty, clipped syllables. In the end, a man’s voice spoke up. “Is that Mr. Knight?” “Yes, who is that?” “It’s Harold.” “Harold! How are you? Where are you speaking from?” I told him Bassingbourn. We were allowed to do that so long as we didn’t give the name of our unit. “How’s Mrs. Knight?” “Oh, she’s fine, she’s down at the Y.M. this evening, on duty.” “I see. And Betty, is she still with you?” There was a slight pause. I thought we must have been cut off. Then he said, “No, she went back home a little while ago. Things are a bit quieter now, you know.” “Yes, I understand. But how is she? I’d love to see her again.” “Well, actually, Harold, she’s fine. But look, did you know – did she mention that she’s getting engaged?” I felt as though I’d flown slap into a mountainside in the dark. I swallowed with difficulty, the perspiration had broken out on my forehead and my hand holding the receiver was trembling. “No,” I said, “I didn’t know that.” “Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.” “No, I hadn’t heard that.” “Yes; he’s quite a nice chap, a bit older than she is, works in a car factory, I believe.” We didn’t talk long after that; I was too stunned to think very straight. I’m afraid I never saw the Knights again, and I am truly sorry, for they were good, nice people and they were extremely kind to me. I made a mess of my flying during the next few days. [page break] I still think about Betty. I have quite a substantial record collection and after years of fruitless searching I finally got the record of Hutch singing what has become for me a poignant song, that song about the nightingale. And when I play it I can see Betty’s lovely face, pale and calm, like the Madonna, and I can visualise the gleam of the firelight on her jet-black hair, that winter afternoon in Northampton. I wonder, often I wonder, what became of her. Dear Betty, I shall never forget you for you were my first love. What happened? Where did I go wrong? I don’t know why I should feel so very sad when I think of those days, for they were truly among the happiest of my life. Sometimes, too, I think of the way she used to laugh, and of her words; I can almost hear her voice speaking to me, as though she were in the room here. But I know I shall never see her again and now, the touching little phrase sounds only like a cry of despair in the night – “Never no more, never no more.” . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] We would never fly like that. [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] WE WOULD NEVER FLY LIKE THAT [/underlined] After I had described the incident to him, with inevitable, automatic use of a pilot’s illustrative gestures of the hands, he thought briefly about it, then looking directly at me, “You ought to write about it,” he said, “Why don’t you put it on paper?” The following day I awoke early in the morning, earlier than usual, even for me, with his words still sounding in my ears. And remembering the words with which I had described the events of almost sixty years previously still fresh and vivid in my mind, I took up pencil and paper. . . . . . . . . . . . . Now, in the dying days of the twentieth century, almost every summer week-end, all over the land, you may buy your ticket for some air display. You may sit in your car with the doors open to admit the pleasant breeze, the warm air, the chatter of the crowd, the over-emphatic loudspeaker announcements, or you may lounge upon your hired camp-chair, your sunglasses shading your eyes as you look upwards into the limitless blue clarity of the sky, and watch, to the accompaniment of the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the hundreds of spectators, the improbable antics of the ugly, purpose-built, monstrously-powered aircraft, meretriciously decorated with advertisements, performing their violent and ugly aerial manoeuvres. To me, the vicious use by their pilots of stick and rudder palls after only a few seconds, and I think, perhaps nostalgically, that I would much rather watch fewer and simpler aerobatics performed by pilots in standard military aircraft. And as I ponder this my thoughts are led back to a day on a Northamptonshire aerodrome when I was beginning my elementary pilot training in the R.A.F. The time was the sever winter of 1940-41. The Battle of Britain had just been won; Coventry had only very recently been devastated by the Luftwaffe in one catastrophic night raid. I was one of twenty or so young men on our course. Most of us had never seen an aircraft at close quarters until we arrived at No. 6 Elementary Flying Training School. Here, there [page break] were Tiger Moths – biplanes, gentlemen’s aeroplanes, as I heard them many times described. They were docile, forgiving, vice-less, sensitive to both hands and feet, a sheer joy to handle once the initial strangeness of the sensation of controlling an aircraft in three dimensions had worn off. Most of us, I fancy, could see ahead no further than going solo on them, then completing the course with the required fifty or so flying hours before we went on to the next stage in our training, a Service Flying Training School. But we did not look far into the future; we did not know nor could we imagine what was coming to us. Perhaps, in many cases, this was just as well. All we knew was that we were, each one of us, filled with an unquenchable desire and zeal to qualify eventually as pilots in the finest Air Force in the world, to become – and we thought this and spoke of it without embarrassment or apology to any man – the elite of all the armed forces, an opinion which I will hold with pride today. So we flew and we studied flying and talked of little else but the theory and practice of flying. We questioned one another. We pored [sic] over pilots’ notes and airmanship notes and navigation books and the Morse Code. We questioned our instructors and our peers on the senior course. And we kept our eyes and ears open, sensitive and receptive to anything, however small, which would assist us in any way to obtain those wings which we longed to be able to wear on our uniforms. Here at Sywell, the Tiger Moths were, during the day, dispersed around the perimeter of the grass aerodrome, standing in their training yellow and earth-camouflage paint, their R.A.F. roundels standing out bravely, awaiting their next pupils to take them up on whichever exercise they would carry out. We were divided into three Flights, six or seven of the boys on my course in each, with six or seven of the senior course. Each Flight had its ‘office’ in a camouflage-painted bell tent near the hedge. But what drew my eye almost hypnotically when I was standing there, not flying, perhaps watching other pupils performing their ‘circuits and bumps’ until it was my own turn, was the occasional sight of a Wellington, a twin-engined bomber, at that time the biggest we had, standing outside a hangar on the far side of the aerodrome – the Vickers shed, as it was called. It fascinated me constantly and unfailingly, massive in its matt-black dope with its very tall single rudder, standing squat, silent and menacing outside its hangar, contrasting against the snow-covered ground, [page break] never approached by anyone except the Vickers personnel. What was taking place there I have never known, but all of us well knew who flew it. He would arrive in his Spitfire, considerately keeping a respectable distance outside the circuit while we pupils took off or landed in our tiger Moths. Then he would slip into a vacant place in the circuit and make his approach and landing, his aircraft, pencil-slim, perfect and graceful in its flight, the focus of all eyes from the ground, its appearance possessed of something of the beauty and poetry of a Bach fugue or a Mozart andante, a Shakespearian sonnet of flowing aerial beauty. The pilot, we learned from some of the senior course who were comparatively old hands on the aerodrome, was Alex Henshaw, Vickers’ Chief Test Pilot, a fact which reduced us tyros, with probably less than thirty flying hours in any of our logbooks, to awestricken silence. He it would be who would take the Wellington from its place at the Vickers shed, taxi it, ponderously, it seemed to us, into take-off position when all Tiger Moths were well clear, and without fuss send it charging with engines howling at full boost over the bumpy grass field and into the air, leaving traces of oily smoke in its wake from the two Pegasus engines as he eased it over the trees fringing the aerodrome and climbed away. Later, he would return to land, once again showing meticulous consideration of us pupils, and would taxy the bomber to its position by the Vickers shed. I would have not believed them had someone told me that less than a year later I would land and take off here in a more powerful Mark of Wellington on the strength of having seen Alex Henshaw’s performances; I am sure that my audience, if indeed I had one, would have been quite unimpressed by the sight. I know that my own crew, in the tense silence as I scraped over the trees on take-off, were wishing themselves anywhere but with me in my inexperienced disregard for their safety. But it was watching Alex Henshaw that first sowed the seed of an idea in my head that, whereas almost all of the chaps on my course wanted to fly fighters, I thought that I would try my utmost to get on to a bomber Squadron, if only to hit back at those who had so terrified Betty, the niece of the couple on whom [page break] I was billeted in Northampton, and whom I was beginning to regard as someone more than a friend. A year later I would be wearing my pilot’s wings, having been half way across the world and back to earn them, having joined a Wellington Squadron in Lincolnshire and having survived a fire in the air followed by a barely controllable night descent in the darkness and the final crash-landing on my first operation against the enemy. I would also have gained, then lost, a love. One afternoon, at Sywell, I was not flying, standing outside the dispersal tent with two or three others of my course, no doubt talking flying, and watching critically the take-offs and landings of a few pupils on circuits and bumps. (How readily I could point out their faults – a slight swing on take-off, a ropey turn, a bumpy landing, or a too-high hold-off; how slow I was to recognise my own failings and correct them, except on the sometimes caustic promptings of Flying Officer J - -, my instructor). At this stage in our training we could detect instantly any appearance or movement of an aircraft in the sky, no matter how far distant it was – an attribute I have never lost – and we could also quickly and correctly identify it, an ability which, for obvious reasons, was essential by day or by night. But on that bright, very cold afternoon, first there was the distinctive note of the Merlin engine. Our heads turned. Here was the Spitfire with Alex Henshaw, assessing the position of the Tigers on the circuit. He would have been at about 800 feet; I had a splendid view as he cruised gently along, well outside the aerodrome boundary. Then there was a flash of sunlight off the wing as, quite unexpectedly, he rolled the aircraft on to its back and flew, straight and level, but inverted, into wind. We turned our heads and grinned at one another. This was good. This was very good. Exciting stuff. Soon he would roll back and finish his circuit normally. We were wrong. He turned crosswind, still inverted, his rudder pointing grotesquely earthwards. This was becoming quite amazing, an incredible sight. Then, still inverted, he turned again, on to the downwind leg and put his wheels down – or rather, put them up, as we saw them, rising like a snail’s antennae from the duck-egg blue under surface of the Spitfire. Then he turned [page break] on to the final crosswind leg, still inverted, undercarriage held high, flaps now out, and finally into wind, on to his landing approach. Spellbound and speechless we watched as he lost height smoothly in the inverted position. What was he going to do? Open her up and roll her out, then go round again on a normal circuit? But no, he continued on his inverted final approach. I hardly dared breathe; the tension in our small group could be felt. Down and down he slipped until we were prepared to see simply anything – but surely not a crash? I could not truly estimate at what height he was, but finally, effortlessly and smoothly, he rolled her out, the engine popping characteristically as he held off at a few feet and set the Spitfire down for a perfect landing on the grass. We exhaled in unison, the tension gone, wonderment taking over. I have never seen any piece of flying anywhere to approach the silken, wonderful skill of this, and I would be astonished if anyone else has; it was sheer unadulterated Henshaw genius, a sight that I have always remembered with awe, one I shall never forget. There is a very fine novel, long since out of print, written by an R.A.F. Flight Lieutenant pilot who was killed in 1940. The action takes place at a civilian flying school; in one particular chapter some pupils are watching an instructor putting an aircraft through its paces on a rigorous test flight and one of them speaks some words which precisely matched my thoughts as I watched that incredible inverted circuit – “We’ll none of us ever fly like that.” I am sure that none of us standing there on that wartime winter day ever did and I would be astounded if anyone else did, or could. It was flying by a genius; even the gods must have smiled to see it. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Lennie [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] LENNIE [/underlined] In those days, full-backs wore number 1, right wing threequarters threw into lineouts and wore number 2, and so on, down to number 15 at wing forward. Lennie wore number 2 in my local rugby club’s first team, and also in the County side. As an aspiring wing threequarter [sic] myself, although just into my teens, Lennie, when I watched the team’s every home game, wide-eyed on the open side of the exposed pitch, in whatever weather, Lennie became one of my boyhood heroes. He was not by any means one of your greyhound-type hard-running winger, for he carried, in retrospect, perhaps a pound or two too much weight to be numbered with them. But he was as elusive as a well-greased eel. Although in defence, and in particular, his rather feeble kicking, he was slightly suspect, with ball in hand every spectator, whether at club or County match, unconsciously sat up or stood straighter, in anticipation of his jinking, sidestepping runs up the touchline, soldier-erect, dark head thrown back, mouth slightly open. I wonder how often in his career he heard the encouraging shouts of the crowd, “Come on, Lennie!” The recollection of a particular incident in one particular match, against the strongest club side in the county still remains vividly with me. In all but the highest grade of rugby, receiving the ball as a wing threequarter [sic] within ten or fifteen yards of one’s own corner flag meant that there was no choice. One kicked for touch, hoping to gain at least twenty or so yards. Especially so when one was pitted against the most efficient and successful team for miles around, and even more so when one was faced by the opposing winger, who in this case was an English international. But on this occasion Lennie eschewed the safe option. Perhaps it was that he himself knew that his kicking was rather weak. About a hundred yards from his opponent’s line and faced by a rapidly advancing and grimly competent opponent, he set off to run, up the appreciable slope of his home ground. With a jink and a sidestep he evaded the oncoming International, who skidded and was left floundering. Urged on by the home crowd, myself included, he ran, sidestepped, swerved and tricked his way through the opponents’ entire team, his lately evaded marker in breathless and fruitless pursuit. He finally rounded the fullback and scored wide out to the left, after a solo effort of more than 120 yards. It brought the house down, especially as the England ‘cap’ [page break] was finally left prone and exhausted in his wake. I have watched and played rugby for very many years and I honestly believe that I have rarely seen a finer individual try scored. Came the war. Players and spectators alike of the necessary ages were scattered all over the world, many never again to see or handle a rugby ball. Very early in 1941, my elementary flying training – and Betty – left behind, the latter with some heartache, I and several other LACs from Sywell found ourselves en route for we knew not where to continue our training, gathered like so many shepherdless sheep in midwinter in a large and bleak Nissen hut at RAF Wilmslow, an overseas embarkation depot. There must have been fifty or so of us in the hut, sitting upon our respective beds, while a Corporal at one end lectured us on some topic relevant to our impending departure, then called us forward, alphabetically, of course – I was used to being the last in any roll-call – to hand us some sheet of instructions. Awaiting my turn I watched idly while others hurried forward to the Corporal’s desk, then about-turned and went back to their places. Watched idly, that is, until a name I only half-heard was called, and a well-built dark man trotted, on his toes, up the aisle to the Corporal. I started up with a stifled exclamation, recognising the way he ran. It was Lennie, Lennie C - - of W - - R.F.C. I could scarcely believe my eyes. For a second or two the forage cap with the white flash of u/t aircrew almost deceived me. As soon as we were left to our own devices I walked along the hut and across to his bed-space. “Excuse me, but you are Lennie C - -, aren’t you?” “Yes, I am.” He looked curiously at me. “I thought so, I’ve often watched you play, at W - -.” He looked surprised and pleased. I mentioned my cousin, who played in the same team. To meet someone from one’s own home town in the Service was a reasonably infrequent happening, and because of that, all the more welcome. He told me he was under training as a Navigator. We stuck together, despite the disparity in our ages – he was about ten years my senior – through our dismal stay at Wilmslow, then via Gourock and a ridiculously small ship to Iceland where we trans-shipped [page break] to an armed Merchant Cruiser. This was more of a morale-boosting title than anything else; the ship was a medium-sized passenger cruise vessel with two quite small guns which, at a guess, might have just about managed to sink an empty wooden barrel, but not much else. The news finally filtered down to us that we were heading for Canada. On setting out from Reykjavik we looked around for our convoy. There was none. We were to cross the Atlantic alone, with two paltry guns to defend ourselves against whatever there might be in the way of U-boats, pocket battleships or a combination of both. This was a very real threat. The ‘Bismarck’ was later to sink ‘Hood’ and itself to be sunk in the North Atlantic. We slept and lived, about 150 of us, I suppose, on the floor of what had been the Recreation Room with about twelve inches of so-called bed-space between mattresses. Half way across the Atlantic, in a February storm, the engines packed up and we tossed, helpless, for twenty four hours, a sitting target for the Kriegsmarine. Then at last we heard the welcome rumbling from the bowels of the ship. An LAC whose bed-space was near to Lennie’s and mine then reported that he felt unwell. Chickenpox was diagnosed, and the M.O., looking for all the world like an S.S. man selecting victims for the concentration camp, ordered that several of us, including Lennie, Brian S - , who had been on my course at Sywell, and myself, were to be sent into quarantine when we arrived in Canada. Brian, as it happened, was also a rugby man, having played for Broughton Park. We duly and thankfully docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia and after, I’m afraid, gorging ourselves on steaks and chocolate, which we had never seen since before September 1939, about twenty of us, including two or three Fleet Air Arm airmen, to our eyes bizarre in their bell-bottomed trousers and flapping collars, were put on the train for Cape Breton Island, in particular for the small R.C.A.F. Station of North Sydney. Our quarantine turned out to be farcical. After twenty four hours on the camp we were informed, amazingly, that we could please ourselves where we went and whom we met, until further notice. We looked at one another in astonishment – then proceeded to enjoy ourselves while we could. Our duties, such as they were, consisted of one night duty in six when three of us were left in charge of the kitchen and served meals to the RCAF airmen [page break] who were on guard duty and fire picquet. The civilian cooks, who had never met anyone from the U.K., ensure that we were fed like fighting cocks, providing us with quantities of steaks, eggs and milk. Out of camp, the streets, cafes and cinemas of North Sydney and of Sydney itself were open to us. Lifts in cars belonging to the local people were there for the asking, and the friendly Nova Scotians, learning of our arrival, took us to their hearts and into their homes. They were astonished that despite the deep snow on the ground, we seldom, if ever, wore our great coats. The cold was so dry compared with that in England, and we were physically in such prime condition that we felt no discomfort, whereas our Canadian hosts went about muffled up in greatcoats and fur hats with ear-flaps. Our stay there was as good as an extended leave. Off the pitch, most rugby players are determined to do their utmost to ensure that breweries never go out of business. Lennie was no exception. When a group of us were out together he drank his beer slowly but steadily, became more and more relaxed and laughed a good deal, sometimes uncontrollably. He never became objectionable or aggressive, never used bad language and was always amenable to our advice that perhaps he had had sufficient and it was time to return to camp. Being a mere tyro, at the age on [sic] nineteen I drank sparingly and with considerable discretion, my mental sights being fixed over the horizon, on the next stage of my flying training and the eventual gaining of my wings. So I took it upon myself, on several occasions, to steer Lennie, muscular but curiously boneless, laughing at only he knew what, safely into our barrack hut and on to his bed, where I covered him, still in uniform, with his blankets, where he would fall peacefully asleep. Lennie, even with several beers inside him, never did the slightest harm to anyone. Of course, the idyll had to come to an end. After several very pleasant weeks, our posting came through. Brian and I and some others were destined for Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, No. 32 S.F.T.S., while Lennie was posted to Goodrich, Ontario, a Navigational Training School. I remember how we shook hands when we said ‘cheerio’. His smile was as broad as ever, and his hand, I recall vividly, was large and surprisingly soft. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] It must have been on one of my leaves from Moreton-in-the-Marsh towards the end of 1942 when my father, who was on the committee of the local rugby club, gave me the news. Lennie had been shot down and was missing. He believed that it had happened off the Norwegian coast. It was yet another blow to me following the loss of my own crew. I had recently had a reply from the Commanding Officer of my Squadron in response to a letter I had written him, that my crew must now all be presumed dead. I felt that the bottom had dropped out of my life and I was nearing the end of my tether. I was suffering deeply, as was my flying, and I sensed that my forthcoming Medical Board would be the end of a chapter. I went about cocooned in silent grief so intense that it amounted to permanent depression, which was only temporarily assuaged by drinking far more than I ever saw Lennie drink. From what little my father had gleaned from his informant at the clubhouse I surmised that Lennie must have been on some squadron in Coastal Command. For some reason I visualised him on Whitleys. . . . . . . . . . . . . Years passed. I will not say that I had forgotten Lennie; occasionally some memory of those days would float unbidden into my mind and I would visualise him as I had last known him on Cape Breton Island, always smiling, playfully light-hearted, completely harmless. Then a friend gave me a cutting from a local newspaper with a photograph of the successful rugby team of the immediate pre-war years. Lennie smiled up at me from the middle of the front row of players, next to another young man who had been shot down into the sea off the Dutch coast as a wireless operator in a Blenheim on a daylight shipping strike. I was impelled to ask the friend whether any information could be obtained from the Internet as to what had happened to Lennie, and when it was he had died. Within days I knew enough to be able to consult a series of volumes of casualties of Bomber Command. For Lennie had not been on a Coastal Command Squadron as I had surmised, and he had not been shot down off Norway. He was the Navigator of one of six Wellingtons from a Bomber Squadron at Mildenhall, (where much later, J – ended her career in the W.A.A.F. as a Base Watchkeeper), detailed to attack shipping, in daylight, on the Dortmund-Ems Canal in North-west Germany on a September afternoon in 1942. [page break] On reading this, I could hardly believe that Wellingtons were being used on daylight operations at that time; I had thought that the crippling loses [sic] that they suffered on such attacks in the early days of the war had meant their transfer solely to night bombing. (On my telling M – about these circumstances, she said ‘Suicide raid’. That was about the size of it.) Mr. Chorley’s painstakingly collated and amazingly detailed book gives the bare bones of the tragic story. Four and a half hours after taking off, presumably on their way back to Mildenhall, and within sight of the Dutch coast and the comparative safety of the North Sea, his aircraft was attacked by a Luftwaffe Focke-Wulfe 190, a formidable fighter aircraft. The wireless operator was killed in the attack and the aircraft was set on fire. The two gunners managed to bale out and became prisoners of war. The account says that Lennie was last seen using a fire extinguisher, bravely trying to put out the fire which was raging inside the fuselage of the Wellington. The blazing aircraft crashed into what was then the Zuider Zee; the bodies of the wireless operator and the pilot were recovered and subsequently interred in a cemetery in Amsterdam, but Lennie’s body was never found and, having no known grave, his name is recorded on the Runnymede Memorial along with twenty thousand others whose remains were never recovered. So died a hero who for a brief time was my friend. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] It makes you think [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] IT MAKES YOU THINK [/underlined] “Mail up!” We jumped off our beds and hurried towards the door at the end of the barrack hut. At least, some of us did. The majority stayed where they were, on their beds, pretending to read, cleaning buttons, pottering about. There could be almost no chance of mail for them, for they were Norwegian, and their homeland was under German occupation. They accepted this lack of mail, as they did much else, with considerable stoicism. We who were the fortunate ones gathered around the R.C.A.F. airman who called out the names on the envelopes, and who, while looking down at the handful of letters he held, handed us our mail without a glance. There was one for me. I looked at the postmark. Coventry. My heart bounded when I saw that. There was two-thirds of the width of Canada and all the Atlantic Ocean between us; she was back in devastated Coventry, I in smaller and completely peaceful Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, under training as a fighter pilot. I walked slowly back to my bed, savouring the sight of her handwriting, feeling the texture of the envelope smooth under my fingers. I sat down quietly, as far as one could be quiet in a hut with twenty-nine other blokes. In deference to us, the Norwegian lads did keep quiet as we read our mail. I held the unopened letter a long time in my hand, gazing at her rounded, shapely writing. I wanted this moment of pleasure to last as long as possible. At the time I was with her, under the same roof, being so caught up in the novelty and the thrill of flying, I didn’t realise what was happening to me, or to her, and it was all too foolishly late that I had become slowly aware of it. After we had parted, when I was at the Embarkation Depot en route for Canada, and when I had time to take stock of myself, it was only then that it dawned slowly upon me that I had fallen in love with her, and that I wouldn’t see her again for the best, or the worst part of six months at least. Oh, Betty, I thought, the time I so stupidly wasted. Would I ever have the chance again? I sighed, and looked at her photograph on my locker. She was [page break] smiling at me enigmatically, her mouth curving slightly up at the corners, her dark eyes holding more than a hint of mischief, the gleaming mass of her ebony hair framing the soft pallor of her calm face. Slowly and carefully I opened the envelope. I turned to the last sheet, looked at the end of the letter first, fearful that it might say only “yours sincerely” or some such. It did not. The words were there that I wanted to read. I lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and luxuriously, and started from the beginning. . . . . . . . . . . . . Tim spoke up from across the gangway between the beds, his English idiomatic and only very faintly accented. “I hope she still loves you, but come on, we have flying to do.” “O.K., Tim, I’ll be right with you.” I tucked the letter into my top left-hand tunic pocket, carefully buttoning the flap. Soren and Aage, next to Tim, both stood up. What opposites they were, I thought, Soren cheerful, muscular, blond, extrovert, while Aage was gaunt and rather silent, and toothy, with melancholy eyes which flickered nervously around him. We made our way up to the flights; it was going to be another hot day. Already the air was filled with the tearing rasp of the Harvards’ Wasp engines as the fitters ran them up in preparation for a long day’s flying. We turned into ‘F’ Flight crewroom at the front of one of the hangars and looked at the flying detail pinned up on the board, next to the Coke machine. Aage was due off on a cross-country to Swift Current and back at 0900, while Tim, Soren and I had an hour’s formation flying at 1000. Lower down the list I saw that I was due on the Link Trainer at 1500 for blind-flying simulation, and to round off the day, or rather, the night, one and a half solo night-flying hours at 2100. It was going to be a long day, as well as a hot one. Aage, now bent over a map, pencilling careful lines, was to take over my aircraft, I saw, when I landed after night-flying. . . . . . . . . . . . . After the snowy, tree-fringed grass field at Sywell it was a novelty to have these sun-baked runways, even more so when there were two parallel ones with a narrow grass strip in between, the whole field being patterned by this double triangle of concrete strips. [page break] We took it in turns to lead our formation of three. Station-changing, as we had no R/T, was indicated by hand-signals from the leader. Soren was to lead first with me as his number two and Tim, three. Then I would take over the lead, and finally, Tim. I followed Soren’s bright yellow Harvard out as he taxied on to the perimeter and turned towards the end of the runways in use. He took the right-hand runway of the pair and edged across to the left of it, braked and stopped. I gave him ten yards clearance and took the right-hand edge of the same runway. Tim stopped level with me, alone on the left-hand runway. I saw Soren slide the canopy shut and start rolling, and I followed, pushing the throttle firmly up to the stop. I never got used to the tremendous feeling of exhilaration as the power surged on. I lifted the tail and kept straight with small pushes of my feet on the rudder-bar. As I chased after Soren I could see Tim out of the corner of my eye, keeping abreast of me. Suddenly Soren was airborne, then I followed, climbing into the summer sky. To maintain station, the rules of tidy and correct flying were suspended. You used no bank on your small turns to get into position, but skidded gently across on rudder only. It felt all wrong, it was like being told deliberately to mis-spell a word one had known and used for years. When I had first practised formation with F/O Sparks in the front cockpit I had been frightened out of my wits to see two other aircraft each within ten yards of me. But one was soon conditioned to accept this, and very quickly one learned the gentle art of close formation flying, when your own wing was actually tucked in to the space between the leader’s wing and his tailplane, so that any forward or backward relative movement meant a collision. But provided you watched him like a hawk, and kept station by means of constant throttle and rudder juggling, you got by. It became great fun, and the early thoughts of comprehensive and devastating collisions were soon forgotten. So I tucked myself right in on Soren’s starboard side and stayed there while he climbed, turned or glided. We flew four basic formations, vic, echelon starboard, echelon port and line astern. The echelons looked great and the line astern gave you a bit of relaxation, for numbers two and three were slightly lower than the aircraft in front, [page break] to keep out of the turbulence of his slipstream. Where we were heading was not my worry, nor Tim’s. Soren was in charge of that side of things while he was leading. He gave the signal to change leaders. I skidded away from him and opened the throttle to draw ahead. He skated in to my left and Tim crossed to my right, as number two. Back to cruising revs as they snuggled themselves in tightly against me. I looked down at the baked prairie landscape and saw that Soren had headed us back towards Moose Jaw to make it easy for me. I grinned and mentally thanked him. I started to sing loudly to myself as we flew, running through the repertoire of the popular songs we were always playing on the juke box at Smoky Joe’s cafe, just outside the camp gates, I felt on top of the world – a letter from Betty, a great day for flying and the formation going like a dream. I led them around until my time was up and signalled Tim to take it from there, over Regina Beach on Last Mountain Lake, at four thousand feet. I slid into number three position in the vic and tucked myself in tightly into Tim’s port side. He led us around in a turn to port, back towards base. We never did steepish turns in vic formation, it was too difficult for the man low down on the inside to keep station as he had to cut his airspeed back so much. Tim tightened the turn and climbed a bit as he did so. Watch it, Tim, I thought. Still tighter; I dared not look at my airspeed. Still tighter, and my controls were starting to feel sloppy, approaching the stall; I dared not throttle back any further or I would stall off the turn and go into a spin, and a Harvard lost nine hundred feet per turn once they did spin. Out of it! I shoved throttle on as I winged over and dived out of the formation, swearing to myself as I did so. The wretch! Playing silly buggers like that! All on my own in the bright morning sky I screamed round in a steep turn to port, with plenty of power on, nearly blacking myself out in the process. I yanked the seat tighter against the straps to bind my stomach firmly in and keep the blood in my head, stopping the grey-out. I eased out of the turn. Five thousand feet. Now, where the hell were they? Then I saw them, now about six miles away, orbiting innocently. I flew over to them and sat just off [page break] Tim’s port wingtip, shaking my fist at him, which only made him throw back his head and laugh as he made come-in motions with his hand. I went in, tight. We formed up again into a sedate vic and finished the detail, as usual, in echelon port, about two miles from the field, when we did our line-shoot party piece – a swift wing-over to port in rapid succession and a dive on each other’s tails into the circuit, making sure we were well clear of the more sedate pupils going about their quiet business. When we had landed, taxied in and switched off, I collared Tim. “Damn you!” I said, pretending to be about to sling a punch at him, “What the hell do you think you were playing at? Trying to make me spin in, were you?” “No danger,” he replied, laughing, “you had bags of height – can’t take it, eh?” Soren chimed in, smiling broadly. “We thought you’d just decided to go home.” “Wait till I’m leader, next time, you two mad so-and-so’s,” I said threateningly, “I’ll turn you both inside out!” All the same, I threw Tim a Sweet Cap; Soren didn’t smoke. We strolled back to ‘F’ Flight crew-room where I’m glad to say that Tim bought the cold Cokes. It was a hot morning. . . . . . . . . . . . . The Link Trainer Sergeant was a stocky little R.C.A.F. man who looked like a middleweight boxer. “Don’t forget to reset your gyro-compass every ten minutes or so or you’ll be way to hell out at the end. Got your flight card? Do all your turns at Rate two and let’s have a nice neat pattern on my chart at the finish. Give me the O.K. when you’re ready and I’ll tell you when I’m switching on so you can punch the clock.” “Right oh, Sergeant,” I said. I climbed into the little dummy aeroplane on its concertina-like base. I pulled over the hood, plugged in the intercom in the darkness and propped up the flight card near the small lamp on the instrument panel. I felt the lurch as he energised the system; the instruments [page break] came to life with a sigh. “I’ve put you at a thousand feet,” he said, “do you read that?” “Check,” I replied, “turning on to 045 Magnetic, now.” “Got you. Just watch your height as well as your timings, won’t you, bud?” “Yes, Sergeant.” I was flying the awkward Maltese Cross pattern, the idea being to finish exactly where you started, after the completion of the twelve legs. The instructor had a wheeled “crab” which inked in the line of your track on his chart. At the end, you should have drawn a perfect Maltese Cross, but it took forty minutes, approximately, of solid, grinding concentration on your instruments alone. “Switching on – now!” came his voice, and I hit the stop-watch. After what seemed like hours I did my final Rate 2 turn on to my original course. I straightened it up, timed a careful one minute, then called out, “Finish – now!” He acknowledged and switched me off. The needles sagged to their stops. I took off my headphones and opened the hood and side door. “O.K.,” the Sergeant said, “come right over here and have a look-see. Not bad at all.” I went over to his glass-topped table. My pattern was about ten inches across and I had finished about an eighth of an inch from where I had started. It looked pretty damn good to me, and for an instant I thought about Tink’s brother in his Hampden. “Yes,” I said, feeling rather pleased, “just a bit out, Sergeant.” He grinned. “You’re doing O.K., buddy,” he said agreeably, “now how’s about seeing if L.A.C. Briggs is outside, eh?” “O.K., Sergeant,” I said. He had just made my day. . . . . . . . . . . . . I lay back on my bed after the evening meal and read the letter once again. The hut was quiet. Those who weren’t night flying had gone to Smoky Joe’s or into town for an evening meal. The few of [page break] us on the night flying detail were reading, writing letters or dozing on our beds, waiting for the darkness. There was no sign of either Tim or Soren, while Aage was actually sound asleep. She wrote, “I miss you here, I miss our walks in the park. I wonder if you will be posted somewhere near when you come back, where we can meet? Do you still want to go on to bombers, like you told me? Will it be very dangerous? Whatever happens, I shall pray for you, as I do now, that God will keep you. I have always said what has to be, will be, but I feel he will keep you safe…..” She went on to say she would be spending some time with her Aunt and Uncle in Northampton, as her parents still felt happier with her over there. I folded the letter slowly and thought about Betty and the simple, almost idyllic happiness of life in those days six months ago. Tink, on the bed next to me, motioned to me and across at Aage, grinning, imitating his open mouth and his posture, his ungainly sprawl. Tink, the single-minded, I thought, hero-worshipping his brother flying his Hampden over Germany, and who could hardly wait to get on to the same Squadron. A faraway look would come into his eyes when he spoke about it; “When I get on Hampdens,” he would always be saying, and his broad, boyish face would be raised to the sky, “When I get on Hampdens with my brother –“ But looking at Aage had made me feel tired, too. I yawned, then lit a cigarette and grinned at him. Tink was from Coalville in Leicestershire; I wonder often what became of him. An hour later I was taxying my Harvard out in the darkness, the flarepath away to my right looking very long and very far away. Night flying without a navigator and entirely without radio consisted, at Moose Jaw, of circuits and bumps – and of not getting lost. There was no blackout and you could see the town for miles, no bother at all. But if the visibility went, you got down out of it, quick. So far, it never had; the prairie nights were wonderfully clear. I got my green from the A.C.P. and, nicely central between the flares, opened her up. We charged down the runway and floated off [page break] easily. I had done quite a few of these night flying stints before, and found I had taken to it naturally, much more so than I did to aerobatics, for example. Undercart up, throttle back to climbing power, keep the gyro on 0, shut the canopy, and up to 1000 feet. Level off, throttle back to cruising, turn port to 270. There’s the flarepath down over my left shoulder. Keep the wings level, watch the artificial horizon. Rate one turn downwind, heading 180, throttle back a bit, then wheels down when we’re opposite the middle of the flarepath. Greens on the panel as the wheels lock. There’s the A.C.P. giving me a green on the Alldis lamp. Crosswind on to 090. Bit of flap. Drop the nose and turn in. Watch the airspeed, open the canopy. Engine noise surges in. Switch on the landing light and hold her there. Nice approach, I think. Now, hold off and let her sink the last four feet. The flares merge into a line. Hold it there. A bump and a rumble. We’re down. Keep her straight, flaps up, headlamp off. Touch of brake, not too much. Fine, now turn off the runway along the glim-lit perimeter track and back to the take-off position again. There’s someone else up, I can see his nav. lights. Wonder who it is? I rumble along the peri. track to head back for the end of the runway. Must say, I can see Tink’s point, I’d rather like a bash on Hampdens myself. After all, they’re what I wanted when I first thought about joining up, except that my ambitions were no higher than to be a gunner. “Will it be very dangerous?” God knows, Betty, but as you say, what has to be will be, and there is no turning back, one must simply live for and through the minute, even the second, and do what has to be done, enduring what has to be endured with fortitude. Something’s irritating me, and I can’t think what, except there’s something here which shouldn’t be. My God! Yes! The cockpit is full of red light, now it’s flashing off and on, urgently. Stop. Tread on the brakes. She creaks and jerks to an abrupt halt. The red light stops flashing at me and someone taxies past me in the opposite direction. Wow! So that’s what the red was all about? [page break] Must stop this day-dreaming. Only two more circuits and I can pack it in, hand over to Aage and hit the sack. I’ll be about ready for it, too. There’s my green. Hope he doesn’t report me for taxying through a red. It was only a dozen yards – I think. Oh, well, can’t do a thing about it now. No harm done, so here goes, back to my take-off point. Turn on to the runway, uncage the gyro on 0, open her up. We’re off again. . . . . . . . . . . . . Turn on to 180, see the stars sliding around. Between the field and the town, now. Nice and easy, purring along, last landing coming up, then into the pit. “I miss you here, I miss our walks in the park.” I wish I were meeting you after this, Betty, ‘you’d be so nice to come home to’ – I wonder if you still play that record? ‘To come home to and love.’ Coming home – the lights of home – lights – lights – lights! What the hell’s going on? All those lights, ahead, and coming straight for me? Hell! Get the stick back, you’re in a dive, heading straight for the town! You’ve been asleep, you bloody fool. Come on, come on, ease out. The lights slide below me. Thank God for that. I risk a look at the altimeter – 500 feet. God. Another few seconds, and that would have been it, smack into the town centre, curtains. I reach up and slam the canopy open, letting the cold night air flood in, taking deep breaths to wake myself up. I climb cautiously back to circuit height, select wheels down and duly get my green from the A.C.P., as though nothing at all had happened. I turn across wind, edging towards the flarepath. Shove the nose down, turn port, full flap, headlamp on, heading straight in. I land, thankfully, and exhale with relief. Aage is ready and waiting to take over the kite as I dump my ‘chute, blinking in the bright light of the crewroom, and fill in the Authorisation Book. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] The murmur of voices nearby awoke me. I pulled the bedclothes around my ears, but it was no good. I was awake, back to life again. I sat up, yawned, looked at my watch – 0820. Still in time for breakfast, if I hurried. Brian, Tim, Tink and Soren were in a huddle across the other side of the hut, talking in hushed voices, looking solemn. Two strange erks were standing near Aage’s bed. I was puzzled. “Hey, Tink!” I called, sitting on the edge of my bed and yawning again, “Tink!” He looked over his shoulder and came across to me. I nodded towards the strangers. “What’s cooking?” I asked. “It’s Aage.” “Aage? What about him?” “He’s dead. He crashed, night flying, last night.” “He what?” I gasped, fully awake in an instant, “He crashed? How the hell did it happen?” Tink shrugged. “No-one knows, he just went in, about four miles away, that’s all we know.” “Christ,” I whispered, “poor old Aage. He’s definitely - ?” “Oh, yes,” Tink said, “no doubt about it, I’m afraid.” I said, quietly, “He took over my kite, last night, you know.” Tink said, “Was it O.K. when you had it?” “Of course, no trouble at all.” I didn’t want to mention my falling asleep, not even to Tink. He sighed. “Makes you think, doesn’t it?” “Yes,” I answered, remembering the lights rushing towards me, “it certainly makes you think.” (‘What has to be, will be.’) “Mail up!” someone shouted, and there was a clatter of feet hurrying down the hut. There would be no mail for Aage. Another day had begun. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] “Yes, my darling daughter” [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] “YES, MY DARLING DAUGHTER” [/underlined] “What was it you did yesterday?” Flying Officer Sparks asked, “advanced formation, am I right?” “Yes, sir,” I replied, wondering what was in store for me that morning. He pinched his lower lip between thumb and finger and frowned with silent concentration, his black moustache looking more luxuriant than ever. “Well now, I think you’d better do some steep turns, climbing turns and a forced landing. An hour, solo. Take 2614. Don’t do all your turns to port, you don’t want to give yourself a left-handed bias, and watch you don’t black yourself out in your steep turns. Now. Forced landings. Don’t touch down anywhere, you only do that with an instructor. Don’t go below a hundred feet, and thirdly, don’t cheat and have a field picked ready, close your throttle at random when you’re doing something else. If you do ever have an engine failure you won’t be able to pick and choose the time or the place. All right? Any questions?” “I take it I keep my undercarriage up, sir?” “Yes, better a belly landing and a bent prop than a somersault if you try a wheels down landing on an unknown surface. Anything else?” “No, sir.” “Right, off you go, then.” “Thank you, sir.” I came to attention, about-turned smartly and went out of the Instructors’ Office into the pupils’ crewroom of ‘F’ Flight, No. 32 Service Flying Training School, Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, on the Canadian prairies. I felt buoyant that morning; I was feeling very fit and happy and I knew I was flying well. It was a beautiful early summer day with a few puffs of fair-weather cumulus at about five thousand feet, with a light breeze to temper the already growing heat. The constant drone of Harvards filled the air, punctuated by the fierce, ear-splitting howl and crackle of the high-speed propeller tips as one fled down the runway like a scalded cat, tail up, and took off, flashing yellow in the sunlight and tucking its wheels neatly up as it left [page break] the runway. Tim and Soren, two of the twenty or so Norwegians on our course – in fact, the R.A.F. were in the minority on Course 32 – were sitting in the crewroom. They completed my formation of three when we flew, and we were great buddies. Tim looked up and grinned. “No formation for us this morning, eh?” “No, not this morning, Tim. I hear that you’re grounded, anyhow, for trying to make me spin in off a turn!” I was joking, of course, and Tim knew it; on’s [sic] loyalty to one’s formation was absolute. Tim laughed hugely, his lean, brown face, normally rather grave, was transformed. “Anyhow,” I said, “he’s not fit to fly with a face like that,” and I pointed to Soren, who was feeding a nickel into the juke box. There was a thud, and out came the seductive voice of Dinah Shore. “Mother, may I go out dancing? Yes, my darling daughter. Mother, may I try romancing? Yes, my darling daughter – “ It was practically our course signature tune at Moose Jaw, everybody sang, whistled or hummed it and selected it on whatever juke box was handiest, whether here in the crewroom or out at Smoky Joe’s, the cafe at the camp gates, on the dust road which led to town. Soren looked up. He had a bottle of coke in one hand, a split lip and a discoloured right eye. He grinned at me. “Ah, but it was just a friendly little fight with a couple of Canadians, nothing serious at all.” Soren’s favourite occupation on his evenings out was to have several drinks then find someone to fight. Strangely enough, he never fought with any R.A.F. bloke. “See you later, then,” I said to them. Tim gave a vague wave, Sorne’s eyes were already shut as he lay full length on a convenient bench, arms crossed on his chest, his mop of incredibly blond hair gleaming in the sun which poured in through the window. “What if there’s a moon, mother darling, and it’s shining on the water?” I sang to myself as I crossed the expanse of concrete [page break] in front of the hangars, under the blazing sun, my parachute bumping against the backs of my knees, the morning breeze finding its way pleasantly inside my unbuckled helmet. It was so hot that we were able to fly in shirtsleeves. Up at eight or ten thousand feet it was delightfully cool, but at ground level the temperature could climb to the 120’s in the sun by afternoon. I found 2614 among the half dozen kites parked in line facing the hangar. Someone had thoughtfully left the canopy open to minimise the heat in the cockpit. I checked that the pitot-head cover was off, I didn’t want to get airborne and find that the airspeed indicator was out of action. Then I climbed in off the port wing-root, clicking the leg-straps of my ‘chute into the quick-release box as I did so. An erk was standing by with the starter trolley. I did up my safety harness while I was busy with the pre-start cockpit check. I operated the priming pump and shouted “Contact!”, switching on the ignition, and with the stick held firmly back into my stomach I pressed the starter switch. The propeller staggered, jumped, staggered again, then caught as the engine roared into life. the prop-tips became a yellow semi-circular blur in front of my eyes. The erk wheeled away the trolley, parking it to one side where I could see it. I tested the controls for the full movement and ran up the engine, buckled my helmet securely and pulled the seat up hard against the straps, waving away the chocks. The erk gave me the thumbs-up. I toed the brakes off, opened the throttle a little, and we rolled. I taxied with exaggerated care, knowing that F/O Sparks was probably watching me. I had been told off by him once or twice for taxying carelessly. So I ruddered the nose meticulously, each way in turn, at 45 degrees to my direction of travel, which enabled me to see ahead, to the sides of the big 450 horse-power radial engine. A taxying accident was a very serious matter indeed, and a Court Martial was the automatic sequel. I arrived at the end of the twin runways in use and squinted up into the flare; no-one was on his approach. A final check on the windsock and on the cockpit settings, then I turned on to the runway, pushing on a little rudder to ensure I was absolutely in [page break] line and central. I set the gyro to ‘0’ and uncaged it, then glanced up to make doubly certain that the canopy was fully back, just in case anything went wrong on take-off and I had to get out in a hurry. Then a final deep breath and we were off. I eased open the throttle to its fullest extent. We rolled, rumbling over the runway, keeping straight with small pushes on the rudder. The engine note rose to a deafening howl and the pressure on the stick increased as we gathered speed and as I eased the stick central. We were in a flying attitude, tail up and charging down the runway which was vanishing with amazing rapidity under the nose of the aircraft. At 65, a slight backward pressure on the stick – not quite ready. At 70, a bump or two, then the incredibly smoothness of being airborne. I whipped up the wheels, holding the nose just above the horizon to pick up speed, then I throttled back to climbing boost and revs, and reaching up, slid the canopy shut. It was a bit quieter then, and I could relax a little. I adjusted the climbing angle to give me 100 m.p.h., saw with satisfaction that the gyro was still on ‘0’, and did a quick check on all the instrument readings, going swiftly round the cockpit in a clockwise direction. The altimeter slowly wound around its way towards the cotton-wool cumulus. “Mother, may I go out dancing? Yes, my darling daughter,” I sang loudly to myself. . . . . . . . . . . . . “How right he was,” I thought as I brought her smoothly out of a steep turn, “you can black yourself out in one of these.” I had tightened the turn gradually, to the left, which I could do without conscious effort, toeing on top rudder to keep the nose pushing around the horizon, the stick fairly tightly into my stomach to tighten the turn in on itself. As the rate-of-turn indicator hovered around the 3 1/2 mark I could feel myself being crushed down into the seat, my cheeks were being pulled downwards, and the instruments had become rather fuzzy as the ‘g’ took hold of the blood in my brain, sucking it down out of my head. Then, as I came out of the turn and the ‘g’ decreased, I stretched myself against the straps as the pressure slackened, and bared my teeth in a mirthless grin [page break] to restore my features to their correct shape. “Forced landing next,” I said to myself as I slowly but firmly closed the throttle, stopping it just before the place where the undercarriage warning horn would sound. I was at about six thousand feet, to the west of Moose Jaw. Several miles away, to the north-east, I could see another Harvard stooging along, probably on a cross-country, and away to the north a civil DC3 was flying the beam from Regina to Swift Current. I gently pushed the nose down into the quietness, selected flaps down and hand-pumped on 15 degrees. In a real engine failure you would have to do it this way, the hard way. I slid the canopy open and was all set to pick what would laughingly be called my ‘field’; in this part of the world what passed for a field was rather rare. The prairie lay below in its muted colours, the occasional yellow dust road straight as a string, the sun flashing briefly on some watercourse. About thirty miles to starboard there seemed to be some line-squalls building up already above the low hills which marked the border of Canada with the neutral U.S.A. I put the kite into a shallow glide. Then I saw my field, a green, squarish paddock with two white buildings in one corner, a dirt road leading up to them. I settled the airspeed on 80 and turned towards the paddock, losing height slowly but steadily in a succession of well-banked turns like the descending hairpins of a mountain road. The green postage stamp of the paddock grew larger. From the smoke of a small fire somewhere on the prairie I saw I would be roughly into wind on my final approach. The white buildings grew into the size of matchboxes. “What a God-forsaken place,” I thought, “imagine being stuck out here, miles from anywhere, no town, no trees, lots of damn-all connected by roads.” Then I notice a movement near the house. One figure was standing just outside it, then it was joined by another. Still I glided down, mentally noting airspeed and altimeter readings with quick glances, checking and assessing my position in relation to the paddock. I used to sideslip Tigers with contemptuous ease to get them into the [page break] field at Sywell, it became my trademark before I left there, but I’d never tried to sideslip a Harvard. Come to think, perhaps this wasn’t the time to start. The horizon had lifted quite a lot. I was going to make it all right, I thought. The prop windmilled ahead of me and I had the urge to open the throttle to make sure that the engine was still functioning; it seemed an age since I had cut the power off. I dropped the nose and did a final turn to port. Airspeed back to 80, pump down full flap, line up, into wind, on to the paddock. It was a man and a girl standing there watching me, the sun gleaming on their upturned faces. The man was pointing upwards, towards me, he had put his arm protectively around the girl’s shoulders. His daughter, I thought. I imagined them speaking to one another in their slightly harsh Canadian voices, anxious as to what was going to happen next to the aircraft, to me – and to them and their home. I saw the girl give a small wave of the hand, nervously, encouragingly, almost as though she were trying to placate some force, to stave off a possible disaster, and I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that they would be thinking that I was in trouble. Two ordinary people, the tenor of their lonely lives disturbed as never before, by my so casual and uncaring intrusion. Altitude 150 feet. Airspeed 80. It was, if I said it myself, a honey of an approach, I could have put her down with no trouble at all. They were both waving now and I could distinguish their features. I had them firmly fixed in my mind as father and daughter. Perhaps he was a widower, living out his hard life on the land which his ancestors had farmed since the Indians had left, perhaps his pretty daughter had sacrificed her youth, her prospects and hopes of marriage, to look after her father and help on their farm, burying herself in their lonely world. They were remote there from everything of violence, receiving news of the war over the radio from professionally cheerful and brash newsreaders, couched in terms that they could merely imperfectly comprehend: Europe was far away, dominated by some tyrant of whom they knew little, opposed only by distant and defiant English cousins whom they had never seen, and whose ways were as strange and unknown to them as those of the biblical characters of whom perhaps they read daily at the end of their quiet evenings together. [page break] I saw him clasp her to himself protectively, and I saw also that I was now below 100 feet. Firmly, I opened the throttle fully. The engine surged with power, its roar doubly deafening after the long glide down. I eased the nose up and gently started to milk off the flap. The house slid beneath my port wing. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the two figures. He was greying, slightly stooped, in brown bib-and-brace overalls, she a slim girl in a vivid blue frock, her dark hair like a halo round her face. I suddenly thought of Betty. They stood, their arms around each other, as I flew over them. Then I had the strange and unaccountably peaceful feeling that in those few minutes I had known them all my life. It was as though time itself had become distorted, elongated, to envelop the three of us in some temporal vacuum in a cul-de-sac off the normal path of consciousness, where the clock of the world stood still and where we had, in some mysterious way, experienced a fragment chipped off the endless expanse of eternity, wherein the three of us had been united as one. The horizon sank away below the Harvard’s nose. I was back again in my element after those eerie few seconds. I looked down at them for the last time. She was standing with both hands pressed to her face. Then her father slowly raised his right hand, as though in benediction. I climbed away into the summer sunshine. And I sang, to no-one but myself, but thinking of the girl down there – “Mother, must I keep on dancing? “Yes, my darling daughter!” I turned the Harvard’s nose for home. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Crewing-up [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] CREWING-UP [/underlined] Although there are many things which happened at that time when we looked directly into “the bright face of danger”, there are some, and regrettably, some of the most important, the recollection of which steadfastly eludes me. This of course pains me greatly, as the men I was about to meet were destined in those six all too short months to leave an indelible and now poignant impression upon my memory. My recurring faint recollection is somehow associated with being in a group of other pilots, pupils at 11 O.T.U., Bassingbourne, not far from Cambridge, quite near to the place of execution of Dick Turpin at Caxton Gibbet, and later to become an American Flying Fortress base. We were gathered at the end of one of the hangars in the morning sunshine, practising what little skills we had acquired on the use of the sextant, taking sun-sights and from them plotting the latitude of our position, which was, of course, easily checked by our, at that stage in our training, benign instructors. Perhaps their thoughts were couched in similar terms to those which Connie was to use in conversation with me a year or more later, and in totally different circumstances and surroundings – “They don’t know what’s coming to them, poor sods, do they, Yoicks?” None of us knew what was coming, for better or for worse, to us, and I was certainly not to know that within the hour I was to meet, and for the next six months – (was it really as little as that?) – become associated with and know intimately five of the finest men, in my opinion, who ever walked the earth. Men who became closer to me, closer to each other, than brothers, than my and their own flesh and blood, men who were mutually supportive in the intangible but unyielding bond which perhaps only aircrew or ex-aircrew can comprehend, men, four of whom had already entered the last six months of their short lives. We put away our sextants, thankfully, in most cases. There were about twenty of us pilots on the course, both from the United [page break] Kingdom and the Dominions. My own particular friends were Charlie from Newcastle, Hi-lo, a rugged, rangy Canadian and the man who was to become his Observer, a cheerful Australian named Laurie, and also Roddy, another Canadian, smiling and lively, whom I often addressed, attempting, not unkindly, to imitate his accent, as Raddy. He, Hi-lo and Laurie were soon to be posted with me to 12 Squadron. All three were also soon to die. We had completed our introduction to the Wellington under the tutelage of ‘screened’ ex-operational pilots, on somewhat battle-weary ex-Squadron aircraft. The inevitable ‘circuits and bumps’ – a few of the bumps quite heavy – had been the order of the day, and of the night, a fortnight of them. I astonished myself by going solo on what were in my eyes monstrously large twin-engined aircraft, having gained my wings on single engined Harvards, in less than three hours. Perhaps it was due not so much to skill and ability as to confidence, or perhaps over-confidence. Looking back on it now it never ceases to astound me and I have to consult my log book to verify the figure of a mere two hours and forty five minutes instruction. One interesting feature of this fortnight was that before we flew at night we practised what were known as ‘day-night’ landings. Flying in broad daylight with an instructor as safety pilot, we wore specially tinted goggles which gave the impression of surrounding darkness, while the runway was marked by sodium lights which showed up brightly and gave us the line of approach and landing. It was a novel and rather weird experience, but a very useful one, preparing us for the real thing, flying at night in much-reduced visibility, our eyes fixed almost exclusively on the blind-flying panel of A.S.I., altimeter, turn and bank indicator, gyro compass, artificial horizon, and rate of climb and dive indicator. And so, to one degree or another proficient enough pilots of the Wellington, we were ready to be crewed up. ‘George’, as automatic pilots were universally known, were rare pieces of equipment in late 1941, so every Wellington was crewed by [page break] two pilots who shared the manual flying (of anything up to 7 1/2 hours on some operations) and one of whom was designated as captain of the aircraft, almost invariably addressed as ‘skipper’ or more usually ‘skip’. Once in the air, however, the pilot was virtually under the orders of his Observer, a misnomer if ever there was one, as he was in no position, huddled in his tiny compartment with his plotting chart and maps, his parallel ruler and sharpened pencils, constantly reading his super-accurate navigation watch, his ‘slave’ altimeter and airspeed indicator, to observe anything outside the aircraft. No pilot, however privately doubtful he might be of the Observer’s statement of the aircraft’s position relative to the earth, or of his instructions to alter course on to a given heading at a certain time, ever had the temerity to question him as to these matters except in the mildest and most oblique of terms. To do otherwise was to risk a most sarcastic reply, usually culminating in the curt riposte, “You just do the flying and let me do the navigating.” Later, on the Squadron I was to learn that Observers as a clan – and a Freemasonlike clan they were, dabbling in the impenetrable mysteries of running fixes, square searches, back-bearings, drifts and suchlike – were sometimes irreverently known as the Two-Seventy Boys, after their alleged persistent habit of, having bombed some German target and being urgently asked by the pilot for a course “to get the Hell out of here”, would airily answer, “Just steer two-seventy,” that being West. The Observer was also the crew member who released the bombs, his bomb selector panel down in the starboard side of the aircraft’s nose being somewhat inappropriately known as the Mickey Mouse, for a reason I never discovered, directing the pilot from his prone position between the front turret and the pilot’s feet on the rudder pedals with what was usually a breathless series of instructions, “Left, left”, “Right” or “Steady”, the word “left” always being repeated so as not to be confused with “right” against the various external and internal noises of a bomber aircraft. Current at the time was a somewhat school-boyish joke that one Observer had so far forgotten himself in the excitement of the bombing run to call urgently to the pilot, “Back a bit!” The remaining three crew members each wore the air gunner’s ‘AG’ half-wing on his chest. But one, in addition, had the cluster of [page break] lightning flashes of a wireless operator on his sleeve and was invariably referred to, not by the official designation of wireless operator/air gunner but with the racy and succinct abbreviation ‘WopAG’. His was the task of obtaining as many bearings on radio stations, both R.A.F. and, if he was able, B.B.C. and German civilian stations such as Hamburg or Deutschlandsender and pass the information to the Observer in the next compartment. He must also, at designated times, listen out to messages from his base aerodrome and also his Group Headquarters. In addition, in emergency, he could attempt to obtain a course to steer to any given bomber station by requesting from them a QDM, the code for that information. But this was regarded as being rather infra dig. The two ‘straight AGs’, as the other gunners were known, occupied their respective gun turrets with a few inches to spare, one at the front and one at the rear of the aircraft, the coldest positions, despite their electrically heated leather Irvin suits. In the ‘tail-end Charlie’s’ case it was the loneliest position in the aircraft and the most hazardous if attacked by a Luftwaffe night-fighter, but the safest if a sudden crash-landing became necessary, or if the order to bale out was given in some dire emergency, when he simply rotated his turret through ninety degrees, clipped on his parachute, jettisoned the turret doors and fell out backwards. Each turret was equipped with two .303 inch Browning guns, lovingly maintained and cared for by their users, pitifully inadequate when compared to the cannon of the German night-fighters. To be in the firing line of these Luftwaffe cannon was not at all pleasant. Although never, fortunately, experiencing it in the air, Charlie, my room-mate, and I, billeted in Kneesworth Hall close to the aerodrome, on the old Roman road of Ermine Street, were quietly writing letters one evening in our first-floor room when we heard, and ignored, the noise of the air-raid siren from the village. Bassingbourn was one of the nearest training aerodromes, and certainly the nearest bomber O.T.U., to the east coast, although a fair distance from it. But this fact must have been well known to the enemy, who paid us periodic visits. One aircraft, in fact – I believe it was a Junkers 88 – either by design or mischance actually landed at [page break] Steeple Morden, our satellite aerodrome and became the property of H.M. Government and the Air Ministry, subsequently appearing as part of the circus of captured German aircraft in flying condition which we once saw flying out of Duxford, a nearby fighter station, where they were based, and heavily escorted by a squadron of Spitfires indulging in some plain and fancy flying around them to discourage curious onlookers such as we, who might have gone so far as to try to shoot them down, if in sufficiently rash a mood. However, to return to Kneesworth Hall and the air raid warning. Charlie and I carried on with our respective writing until we were suddenly aware of a strange aircraft engine noise becoming rapidly louder, accompanied by the loud and staccato banging of cannon-fire as the German intruder shot-up the road, the village and approaches to the aerodrome. Our letters were swiftly thrown aside as we, with violent expletives, flung ourselves under our respective beds. My future rear gunner also had a tale to tell concerning an attack by an intruder. The taking of sun-sights over, we were instructed to gather in one of the hangars to be crewed up. There was, as I recall, no formal procedure attached to this important and far-reaching event. One of two instructors acted somewhat like shepherds directing straggling sheep to make up a group of six which was to be a crew. There must have been a hundred or more aircrew of all categories milling around rather haphazardly until, perhaps, a beckoning hand, a lifted eyebrow or a resigned grin bonded one man to another or to a group as yet incomplete. The whole procedure, if indeed it could be graced by that term, seemed to be quite without organisation, the complete antithesis of all previous group activities I had experienced since putting on my uniform eleven months before. Here, there was no falling-in in threes, or lining up alphabetically. (And how I used to long for anyone named Young who would replace me, the invariable and forlorn last man in any line for whatever was to be received or done.) “You lookin’ f’r ‘n Observer?” He was tallish, rather sallow and thin-faced, in Australian dark blue uniform with its black buttons, Sergeant’s chevrons on his sleeves, the winged ‘0’ above his breast pocket. [page break] “Sure. Glad to have you,” I said. This was Colin, more often than not simply ‘Col’. He was to guide us unfailingly through the skies, friendly skies by day and night, then through the hostile moonlit spaces over Germany and Occupied Europe. Col, from Randwick, near Sydney, with his baritone voice which quite often suddenly creaked, almost breaking as he spoke, with his wry sense of humour, his sudden, almost apologetic half-stifled laughter, his strange, colourful vocabulary – “Take five!” His term, sometimes sarcastically uttered, of approval. And when he suspected that I or some other member of the crew was trying to kid him – “Aw, don’t come the raw prawn!” A single man, his father working for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Later, one night on ops with the Squadron to Kiel where the Gneisenau was skulking after its dash up the Channel from Brest with the Scharnhorst and Prinz Eugen, Col performed a wonderfully accurate piece of navigation. It was on an occasion, of which there were several, when the Met. forecast was completely inaccurate, which we feared when we entered cloud at 600 feet after take-off. We climbed slowly until we could climb no more in the thin air and reached 20,500 feet, still in cloud, a faint blur of moonlight showing above us. We bombed the centre of the flak concentration in the target area, completely blind, but saw several large explosions which we duly reported on our interrogation back at base. Losing height slowly on the way back and with an unwelcome passenger in the shape of the 1000 pound bomb which had hung-up, I broke cloud at something around 1000 feet on return, a mere four miles south of our intended position, to see the welcome finger of Spurn Head down to starboard and the four red obstruction lights of a radar station near Cleethorpes gleaming ahead. Over seven hours in cloud and an error of only four miles, thanks to Col’s abilities. It was on this raid, by Wellingtons, 68 in total, of our No. 1 Group, that the Gneisenau was so badly damaged that she never sailed again from her berth. Many of her crew were killed. Perhaps it was our bombs that had done the damage, who knows. I once found Col, on an op, being quietly sick into a tin at the side of his plotting-table, his face ashen, but carrying on despite that. [page break] Such was his dauntless spirit. He had my unspoken sympathy as a fellow-sufferer. A pale, poker-faced and very quiet Royal Canadian Air Force sergeant pilot attached himself to us. Elmer, as the rest of the crew came to christen him, was silent to a degree, but despite that somehow exuded a quiet if somewhat forlorn determination. When we reached the Squadron in October he joined Mike Duder’s crew. Five of the six of them were killed when, damaged by flak over Essen on Mike’s 29th trip, his last but one of his tour had he completed it, they were finished off by a night-fighter and crashed in Holland. It was not until many years later that I learned a little more about Elmer. Although in the R.C.A.F., he was not, in fact, a Canadian, but a citizen of the United States of American, from St. Paul, Minnesota. Before Pearl Harbor [sic] he had an urge to fly against the Germans, possibly because of his Central European forbears. He volunteered for the U.S. Air Force as a pilot and underwent his initial training. Unfortunately, like many others, he had trouble with his landings and was failed. He returned home undeterred, with his desire to become a pilot undimmed. To raise money for the course of action upon which he had decided, he took a job in a sweet factory and augmented his wages by working as a petrol pump attendant. He then travelled to Canada and enlisted in the R.C.A.F. This time he successfully completed his training and got his long-desired wings. All this I learned years later when I was able to trace his sister-in-law and with a residual sense of guilt over my at times impatient, if not downright snappy instructions to him in the air, I have attempted to salve my conscience by having several times visited his grave, and those of his crew, in a war cemetery in a small, neat town in the Netherlands. The ‘father’ of our crew was Mick, our Wop/AG, the only married man amongst us. In peacetime – or ‘civvy street’ as it was invariably known – he had worked at Lucas’ in Birmingham and was knowledgeable on most things electrical and mechanical, owning a small Ford car as well as a motor cycle. The former was later well used on stand-down nights on the Squadron for trips into G.Y. (as Grimsby was known) and I once had the doubtful pleasure of a hair-raising pillion ride [page break] over snow-covered skating rink minor roads, on his motor cycle, also into Grimsby, which was almost as nerve-wracking to me as a trip to Essen. Mick (this was not his given name) was tallish, fairly well-built, with a high forehead, a studious manner, a slight ‘Brummy’ accent and an unconsciously querulous voice. It was he, I think, who christened me ‘Harry’, by which name I became known by the rest of the crew, and the use of which, after their loss, I have strongly discouraged. Mick had done part of his training somewhere in Lincolnshire and had frequented, and knew the landlady, Edna, of the Market Hotel on Yarborough Road in G.Y., which became a home from home for us on stand-down nights. He had a habit concerning which Col and I wryly complained on several occasions, of, on being asked over the intercom. for some information, would testily reply, “Hey, shut up, I’m listening out to Group.” We met his wife once, in the ‘Market’, Mick proudly introducing her to us all, a shy, rather self-effacing girl, soon to become a widow. Our gunners were a wonderfully contrasted pair. Johnnie, from a small Suffolk town – and again, not his given name – in the front turret, was slim, neat in appearance, quiet of speech and demeanour, moderate in his choice of words and apparently completely without fear. No matter what the circumstances, his voice over the intercom. was as calm and measured as though he were indulging in casual conversation over a glass of beer. On the way to Essen one night we were suddenly coned in a dozen or more searchlights and the German flak gunners got to work on us. Cookie was hurling the aircraft all over the sky in his attempts to get us out of the mess, and I was being hurled all over the interior of the aircraft, which was lit up as bright as day. In a steep dive, attempting to escape from the combined attack of searchlights and flak bursts, Johnnie, without being told, opened fire with several short bursts from his twin Brownings on the searchlight batteries, and immediately we were freed from them as they snapped out as though all controlled by a single switch. Johnnie bought himself no beer the next time we went to the ‘Market’. In contrast to Johnnie’s urbanity there was Tommy, our cockney rear gunner. I am still looking for Tommy, still seeking to discover what became of him after he was admitted to hospital after a few ops with us, whether even today, somewhere, he is alive. J – would have [page break] described him, had she, like me, had the good fortune to know him, as being like Tigger, a very bouncy animal. Although not tall, he was built like a boxer or a rugby prop forward, solid, chunky – even more so when kitted up in his Irvin suit – with a gleaming broad red face, scarred in one place, topped by rather long and slightly untidy Brylcreemed hair, his face almost always split in a broad grin. He was cheerful, cocky, good-humoured, never short of a quip, lively and effervescent, and he was a tonic to us all when things were going against us. He laughingly described to us one incident in which he was involved while in his training Flight in the weeks before coming into the crew. He had been on a night cross-country involving an air-to-sea firing exercise, aiming, presumably, at a flame float which they dropped in the English Channel. Several other gunners were taken along on the trip and after Tommy had fired his allotted number of rounds he retired to the rest bed half way down the Wellington’s fuselage, unplugged his intercom., closed his eyes and fell asleep, the padded earpieces of his helmet dulling the noise of the engines and of the rattle of the Brownings fired by his fellow-pupils. He awoke with a start, someone shaking him violently and yelling in his ear, “Bale out! Bale out!” The aircraft was being jinked around the sky in evasive action from the attack of a German fighter. By the time Tommy had collected his wits, found and clipped on his parachute and jumped through the open escape hatch, the aircraft was down to approximately 600 feet, the lowest safe altitude to allow a parachute to open. No sooner had it done so than he was down to earth, to the softest of all possible landings – in a haystack. He had no idea where he was, nor what had happened to the aircraft or to the others in it, and certainly no idea of the planned route of the cross-country flight. “I hadn’t a bloody clue where the hell I was,” he told us, “could’ve been in France, Germany England, any bloody where.” So he collected his deployed parachute into his arms and in the darkness plodded away from the scene of his sudden and fortuitous landing upon the earth. The unfamiliar countryside was silent and [page break] dark. He came upon a ditch under a hedge and rightly decided to spend the night there. In the morning he would take stock of his position. In the ditch, he rolled himself into his parachute, comfortably warm inside his leather Irvin suit and once more slept. In the morning, at daylight, he cautiously emerged to size up the situation. On the other side of the hedge was a narrow road. Keeping well hidden, he awaited developments. Presently, the distant sound of voices alerted him and two men dressed in farm-workers’ clothes came walking along the lane. Tommy strained his ears to catch their conversation, to determine what language they were speaking. To his relief he heard familiar English words. Tommy emerged and, perhaps too quickly, confronted them. But startled as they were by his sudden appearance and flying clothing, they were soon convinced of his nationality when he employed his colourful vocabulary to some effect. They directed him to the nearest house where he received some much-needed refreshment and telephoned his flight Commander at Bassingbourn. On our evenings out at the ‘Market’ in G.Y. he always made a point of collecting small empty ginger ale bottles after one or other of us – often it was I – had added the contents to our gin. These he would take along on our next op., storing them handily in his already cramped rear turret ready for use. We had heard it said that if caught in searchlights, a couple of empty bottles thrown out would, during their descent, scream like falling bombs and cause the searchlight crew to douse their light, and one night on the approach to the Happy Valley, as the Ruhr, with the somewhat black humour of bomber crews, was known, when we were trapped in searchlights he proved, by throwing out a few bottles, that this was no old wives’ tale. It worked like a charm and we slipped through the defences and on to Essen. (Soon afterwards, on leave, I was relating this to an elderly and very unworldly female relation, who, to my amazement and vast amusement was alarmed and scandalised, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Oh! But you might have killed somebody!” she exclaimed.) I have made several attempts to find out whether Tommy survived the war. In correspondence with a contemporary Squadron member, he [page break] wrote to say that he had a copy of a Squadron Battle Order in which Tommy’s name appeared in relation to an operation, as rear gunner in some crew whose names were unfamiliar to me, but that Tommy’s name had been crossed out in pencil and another substituted. Whatever the significance of that, neither he nor I could tell after the lapse of time. A message on the Internet, placed by my Dutch friends, has produced no result. Are you out there somewhere, Tommy? If so, you and I are the only two survivors of the six who came together on that sunny August day in the echoing hangar at Bassingbourn those years ago. I miss you all, more than words can express; I think of you every day that passes, and I never cease to grieve for you, nor ever shall. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [underlined] Enemy coast [/underlined] Through cockpit window now, The lemon-slice of moon, Some random stars Pricked in a hemisphere of indigo. Ahead, the coastline waits – Pale, wavering beams As innocent as death Rehearse the adagio ballet Which will transfix us On pinnacles of light For ravening guns. But for a space In this brief, breathless safety, Poised high above the metal Of the neutral sea, We hang in vacuum, Scattered like moths, Mute castaways in sky. Until, inevitable, we penetrate The charnel-house of dreams, That swift unveiling of Apocalypse Familiar to us As the routine holocaust Which other men call night. H.Y. June 1991 [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Images of mortality [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] IMAGES OF MORTALITY [/underlined] Someone, once, to whom I had been talking – perhaps, it must be admitted, at rather too great length – of my time at Binbrook, cut across my words impatiently with, “Ah, yes, but you were at an impressionable age then.” Not being by nature argumentative I let the comment pass, and the subject was rapidly changed. But the memory of that remark has remained with me. Broadly, I would not dispute its accuracy, for surely, at whatever age one is, one should be, and should remain, impressionable. But here, the implication seemed to be that the events I had been speaking of were not of such importance to have remained so strongly in my memory as they had done. I was then, and still find myself now, a little annoyed by that viewpoint. The happenings of that period of time were of considerable importance to us participants, and the young men, or youths, as some of us were who were involved, were all, in their own individual ways remarkable to one extent or another, by any standards of unbiased judgement. But perhaps my bias is showing. Be that as it may, when I think of Binbrook now, there comes into my mind a cascade of kaleidoscopic impressions of scenes, small scenes maybe, and of faces and voices, images of places and of people fixed into my memory like the black and white snapshots secured in an album of photographs. . . . . . . . . . . . . It was a shock to me when I saw it for the first time, walking up the road from the Mess towards the hangars. Being a peacetime Station – only just – Binbrook was equipped with the standard pattern of permanent buildings, including a row of what had been married quarters – a few semi-detached, two-storied houses. For some seconds I couldn’t think what had happened over there when I saw that most of the top storey of one of the houses had been shattered and was broken off. I halted in my stride, quite appalled at the unexpected and shocking sight. My first thought, an almost instinctive reaction in those days, was “enemy action”, then it slowly dawned on me that [page break] this was not so, that the building had, horrifyingly, been struck by one of our own aircraft, either on taking off or on landing, using the short runway. Who it had been, and what casualties had resulted, I never knew. I was too shaken to ask and no-one, certainly, ever volunteered the information. It was not a topic of conversation one indulged in or dwelled upon. But similar incidents were to involve my room-mate, Johnny Stickings, and I was to escape the same fate by only a few scant feet, and by the grace of God. . . . . . . . . . . . . Johnny had been somewhat longer on the Squadron than I, an Observer in Sergeant O’Connell’s crew. He was short, rather chunky and pale, with straight hair the colour of dark sand. I think we were both much of a type, for while we never went around together, we were perfectly pleasant towards one another and quite happy to be sharing a room, never getting in each other’s way or on each other’s nerves. One winter’s morning I woke to find his bed still neatly made up and unslept in. At breakfast I heard that his aircraft had crashed the previous night, coming back from an op., on Wilhelmshaven, I believe. As far as anyone could tell me there had been both casualties and survivors. It was later that day when I returned to the room, and found Johnny in bed. As I recall, he seemed rather dazed and quiet, as well he might have been. He went into few details of the incident; possibly his conscious mind was shying away from the harrowing experience, or perhaps he had been given a sedative. What he did tell me was that when the aircraft crashed he remembered being thrown clear. He had been flung bodily into a small wooden hut on some farmland in Lincolnshire. The hut had collapsed around him and he was only discovered lying in its wreckage by chance, when one of the rescue party noticed the demolished building. For several years, on the anniversary of the crash, there was an entry in the memorials in the “Daily Telegraph”, to Sergeants O’Connell, Parsons, Laing and Delaney, signed “Johnny”. Then one year the entry no longer appeared. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] Life on the Squadron produced, naturally, shocks to one’s nervous system. Shocks which one could reasonably expect as part and parcel of the normal run of operational flying, and which to one extent or another were predictable. It was the unexpected ones which shook one more violently than the rest; the dazzling blue of a searchlight out of nowhere which flicked unerringly and tenaciously on to one’s aircraft, the long uneventful silence of flying through a black winter’s night being suddenly shattered by a flakburst just off the wingtip. These were things which could set the pulse, in an instant, racing to twice its normal speed. But there was an incident which occurred in, of all places, the ablutions of the Officers’ Mess, an incident which was so completely unexpected and, at the time, heaven forgive me, so utterly shocking, that it froze me into complete immobility, open-mouthed, horrified, and, for an instant, uncomprehending. Apart from, as they are termed, the usual offices, in the dimly-lit stone-floored rooms, there were, naturally, a row of washbasins. I was washing my hands at one end of this row one evening when I heard a soft footstep nearby and I distinguished a figure in the feeble blue light which served to illuminate the place. What was so shocking was the face, a random patchwork of different shades of vivid red, white and pink, two long vertical cuts from the ends of the mouth to the chin, the eyelids unnaturally lifeless and mis-shapen, the hair of the head in isolated tufts falling at random on the skull over the brow. As he moved, I recovered myself and muttered some vague greeting as I went hurriedly out, back to the normality of the well-lit, noisy anteroom. It was a while before I recovered from this un-nerving encounter. Someone subsequently told me about Eddie. He was a burn case, one of McIndoe’s ‘guinea pigs’. A pilot, he had crashed, taking off in a Hampden. The aircraft had burst into flames. The Hampden’s cockpit was notoriously difficult to get out of in a hurry and he had fried in his own greases until he was rescued. Richard Hillary, in his well-known book ‘The Last Enemy’, described Eddie as the worst-burned man in the R.A.F. He was now a pilot in the Target Towing [page break] Flight, flying drogue-towing Lysanders on gunnery practices. Possibly because we both frequented the games room a fair amount, he and I slowly drifted together. No-one made any sympathetic noises towards Eddie, that was definitely not done, and no-one made the slightest concession towards him either. He played against me often at table-tennis, with a controlled ferocity which could have only have been born of the desire to live his spared life completely to the full. Frequently, a clump of his dark auburn hair would flop uncontrollably down over his eyes, to expose an area of shiny red scalp, upon which hair would never again grow, one of the numerous grafts on his head and face, the skin having been taken, he told me, mostly from his thighs. He would damn it cheerfully and push it roughly back again with his sudden slash of a broad grin, which never reached his lashless and expressionless eyes. I had detected some accent which I could not place. One day while we were sitting together in the anteroom, chatting, he mentioned that he was a South African. “Oh?” I said, “Where from? I’ve got relations out there.” “Where do they live?” I named the town. “Well I’ll be damned,” he said, “that’s where I’m from; what’s their name?” I told him. “Have you a cousin called Edna?” “Why, yes,” I said, astonishment growing every second. “I used to go around with her,” he laughed, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?” Eddie, I am glad to say, survived the war. There is a photograph of him, among others of McIndoe’s ‘Army’, in a book named ‘Churchill’s Few.’ . . . . . . . . . . . . What can one say of Teddy Bairstow? Only that, had he lived fifty years before his time he would have been described, I am sure, as ‘A Card’ or as ‘A Character’. [page break] Unlike Tony Payne or Jim Heyworth, for example, he was physically unimpressive; very thin-faced and pale, sparse hair brushed sideways across his head, but with eyes as bright as those of the fox’s head of our mascot. It was his voice, however, which one remembers best, grating, strident and penetrative in its broad Yorkshire accents. When he was in the room, everyone knew it, and the place seemed filled with his jovial, but somehow, rueful, almost apprehensive presence. Teddy had a stock phrase which he used whenever anyone asked him, for example, what sort of a trip he had had. He would lift his voice in both pitch and volume and exclaim to the world at large, “Ee! ‘twere a shaky do!” He had, to everyone’s knowledge, at least one very shaky do. Coming back from some op, he found, for one reason or another, that he wasn’t going to make it back to Binbrook. But he was reasonably close, he had crossed the Lincolnshire coast, and decided he would force-land his aircraft. But no wheels-up-belly-landing, as he should have done, for Teddy. Incredibly, he did a normal landing, if it could be described in those terms, undercarriage down, in the darkness, into a field near Louth, and got away with it without nosing over into a disastrous cartwheel. Few would have survived to tell the tale – Sergeant O’Connell certainly had not done so – but everyone agreed with Teddy’s usual comment. ‘Twere indeed a shaky do. Towards the end of February Teddy’s luck ran out. We went after the German pocket-battleship Gneisenau in Kiel Docks, where it was holed up after escaping up the Channel. Teddy did not come back. . . . . . . . . . . . . Somehow, it happened that Eric and I tended to gravitate together to play billiards or table tennis in the Mess games room, and for the odd glass of beer. It was, I think, possibly because like me, he was the only one of commissioned rank in his crew, apart from Abey, that is, who was his pilot and our Flight Commander, a Squadron Leader, very much senior in rank to both of us. Eric was Abey’s Observer, tall, well built, unfailingly polite, his manner polished and urbane, yet by no means superior. We got along very well; I enjoyed his company, and I like to think he enjoyed mine. [page break] It was one afternoon when we had a stand-down. Frequently, my crew and I would go in to Grimsby, to the cinema, then to the “Market” for a meal with Edna, the landlady, possibly stay the night, and come back in time to report to the Flights next morning. We usually managed to cram ourselves into Mick’s, our wireless operator’s, Ford. However, on this particular afternoon, possibly because we were broke, there were no such arrangements. I happened to bump into Eric in a corridor, in the Mess. We said “hello”, then he stopped suddenly and said, “I say, are you interested in music?” “Yes, I am, rather,” I said, not knowing what to expect. “Well, look, I’m just going along to old Doug’s room, he’s going to play some records – would you like to come along? I’m sure he won’t mind.” So I went. Doug was pleased to see us both. He wound up his portable gramophone and put on Tchaikovsky’s ‘Valse des Fleurs’. I can never hear that lovely, lilting piece without thinking of that afternoon in Doug Langley’s room, lost in the beauty of discovery of orchestral music, and remembering Doug himself, with his light-ginger hair and luxuriant moustache, sitting, eyes closed, head thrown back, as Eric and I listened attentively. From there, on a subsequent stand-down night we went to a real symphony concert, my first ever, in Grimsby, and a whole new and wonderful world had opened up for me, thanks to Eric and Doug. Abey’s crew went missing on Kiel, the same night as Teddy Bairstow. It was years later that I knew that Eric, and indeed, the rest of the crew, had survived. Desperate for contacts after J – ‘s death, I hunted through telephone directories until I found his name, and contacted him. After a few phone calls, and the exchange of several long letters, I met him in London. Being the men we are, it was an affectionate but undemonstrative greeting, a handshake and smiles rather than arms around shoulders and tears. His was a simple story. With quite typical frankness he told me, and M – who was with me, that it was all his fault that they had got shot down. There had, he said, been some fault in his navigation, a very common thing in those days when navigational aids were almost nil, when such things as Gee and H2S had never been heard of. On the way to Kiel they had strayed over Sylt, a notorious hot spot of an island off the Danish-German coast. [page break] They were hit be flak in their starboard engine, which put it out of action. After a discussion as to the alternatives open to them, Abey had turned for home, in the fond hope that one good engine would be sufficient to carry them to the English coast. It was not to be; they were losing too much height to be able to make it back across the wide and inhospitable North Sea. The next option was to turn round again, fly across enemy-occupied Denmark and try to get to Sweden, where they would bale out and be interned for the duration. Again, their loss of height eventually ruled this out, they would never have a hope of reaching any Swedish territory. The third and final option was to bale out over Denmark. This they did, one after the other, successfully, over the island of Funen. They were all immediately taken prisoner. Eric and Abey finished up in the notorious prison campo Stalag Luft III, Sagan, the scene of the “Wooden Horse” tunnel – and of the murder of fifty aircrew officer prisoners by the Germans. Eric, to my and to M – ‘s fascination, produced an album of pencil sketches he had made on odd scraps of paper, of prison-camp life. I asked him how he had been treated as a P.o.W., those three and more years that he spent behind the wire. Typically, again, he said, “Oh, I didn’t have too bad a time, really, you know.” What could one say in reply to that? I simply shook my head in wonder. Of course, among others, we mentioned Teddy Bairstow. He and his crew had not been so fortunate. Nor had Doug Langley, whose grave I found, quite by accident, in a quiet cemetery in norther Holland a short time afterwards. . . . . . . . . . . . . I returned to Binbrook after many years. But only to the village. I had already found the Market Hotel in Grimsby where I went so often with my crew. I had stood for several minutes, looking up at the windows of the rooms we used to have, and remembering kindly Edna, who treated us like sons. Remembering Col, and Mick, and Johnnie, of my original crew. Remembering Cookie, our skipper, and Mac, our rear gunner, the Canadians among us. Thinking of the man I never knew, Rae, the man who had taken my place, the man who had died instead of me. [page break] When I arrived at Binbrook, I found I could barely contain my emotion. I recovered myself to some extent while I drank a cup of coffee in the Marquis of Granby, the well-remembered pub in the village. I stood for a long time at the top of the hill, on the road which led down into the valley and up again to the now deserted and silent aerodrome. I stood, remembering again, seeing, across the distance, visions of the Wellingtons I and my friends had flown, parked in their dispersals, the movement of men around them, and their faces, hearing their long-stilled voices. But I could go no closer to them than that. There were too many memories, too many ghosts. On that fine morning the images of mortality were too real to be borne. . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Tony [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] TONY [/underlined] At the time when I subscribed to ‘Readers’ Digest’ there would appear in each issue a short article entitled ‘The Most Unforgettable Character I Have Ever Met’. I find that this description could fittingly apply to Tony Payne. When I had the privilege of knowing him, Tony, at the age of 21, was already a veteran in terms of ability and experience, looked up to almost in reverence as one of the elite pilots on the Squadron. And whenever I recall the Officers’ Mess at Binbrook with its high-ceilinged anteroom just across the main corridor from the dining room, with the eternal, homely smell of coffee from the big urn near to the door, I can visualise Tony as he was so often, standing slightly to one side of the fire, pewter tankard in hand, holding court, as it were, the focal point of all eyes and conversation, eternally smiling and cheerful, his crisp, clear voice sounding above the music from the worn record on the radiogram which would be softly playing a catchy little tune, a favourite of his, called ‘The Cuckoo’. I have never heard it, or heard of it, even, since that time, but I could never forget it, as it was almost Tony’s signature tune. But Tony was entering the last six months of his life. He had the gift of holding everyone’s attention by his witty observations on most things operational – and non-operational, his words rolling brightly and optimistically off his tongue, his eyes shining with the pleasure of living for the moment, and that moment alone, of good company and comradeship. Once we were discussing a particular trip. (They were always ‘trips’, occasionally ‘ops’ but never ‘sorties’ or ‘missions’). Someone was describing our attempts to locate some target in Germany one night recently. There had been only sporadic gunfire aimed at us whn [sic] we arrived at about 20,000 feet, and that gunfire, we knew, was not necessarily from the immediate area of the target. “What did you think about it, Tony?” someone asked. Tony beamed at the question, leaned slightly forward and declaimed with mock solemnity and a judicial air, “Ah! Then I knew that something was afoot!” he said. [page break] Among his many friends, or ‘familiars’ as they might have once been known, (a description singularly appropriate), was the Senior Flying Control Officer (or ‘Regional Control Officer’ in the terminology then in force) Flight Lieutenant Bradshaw, “Bradders” to everyone. He was old enough to be Tony’s and our father, a World War I pilot beribboned with the ‘Pip, Squeak and Wilfred’ campaign ribbons of that conflict, slightly portly, fairly short in stature, of equable temperament and genial in manner, his iron-grey to white hair meticulously trimmed. A great deal of repartee was invariably exchanged by the two, doubtless born of their mutual affection despite the disparity in their ages. To our delight one day, Tony hurried into the anteroom in a state of high glee, carrying a small, brown-paper wrapped parcel the size of a large book. “Wait till you see this, you types!” he crowed to his audience, which included Bradders, who was as intrigued as the rest of us. Tony slowly, tantalisingly slowly, unwrapped his mysterious parcel then dramatically held up its contents for all to see. It was a gilt-framed oil painting of a side-whiskered old man in a country churchyard, his foot upon the shoulder of a spade, a battered old felt hat on his head. The frame bore the title – ‘Old Bradshaw, the village sexton’. It brought the house down and it was ceremoniously hung on the anteroom wall near to the portrait of Flying Officer Donald Garland, one of the Squadron’s two posthumous Victoria Cross recipients, and near also to the mounted fox’s head, our Squadron badge, which had been presented to ‘Abey’, Squadron Leader Abraham, our Flight Commander, on his posting from a Polish O.T.U. where he had been instructing, to 12 Squadron. At about this time the Air Ministry commissioned Eric Kennington, a noted war artist, to make portraits of outstanding aircrew members, many in Bomber Command, and Tony was one of those selected to sit for him. He sat in his usual place at one end of the anteroom fireplace while Kennington went about his work. The Mess kept a respectful silence while this was proceeding, conversing only in whispers and never attempting to peer over the artist’s shoulder. Some time later, the finished portrait was hung in a place of honour on the wall, to Tony’s laughing embarrassment. [page break] It was only within these last few years that during a telephone conversation with Eric, my friend, fellow-survivor and table tennis and billiards opponent of those days, who had been Squadron Leader Abraham’s Observer when they were shot down over Denmark, that he asked me if I remembered Tony’s portrait, and whether I knew what happened to it. I confessed that I had almost forgotten about it and did not have any idea what had become of it. But his question touched off in me a desire to find out. It seemed logical that in the first instance I should consult my local Library to see whether they might possibly have any book of the Kennington portraits. It did have such a book, and they brought it out to me. Unfortunately, Tony’s likeness was not among the hundred or so reproduced, but he was mentioned in the index of all the portraits which the artist had undertaken. Where next? I decided that the obvious next step was to contact the R.A.F. Museum at Hendon. There I struck gold. They had the original portrait in storage and swiftly sent me a photo-copy. I obtained two copies, one of which I sent to Eric. Today, a sizeable and well-produced copy of Tony’s portrait hang on my wall where I can look on it with a mixture of affection, pleasure and great sadness, as well as a sense of honour that such a fine man and such a fine pilot could have wanted me to join his crew. I was more than a little surprised when he did so and have often wondered what prompted him to approach me. It was prior to his finishing his first tour, and I have described the incident and its calamitous sequel in the next chapter. His crew, on his first tour with us, must truly have been quite exceptional. To have completed their tour made them exceptional enough. The chances of that were a considerable way short of evens. There was an example of their ‘press on regardless’ spirit and of the brilliant navigation of Tony’s Observer, Sergeant Dooley, a dapper, smiling little Englishman, on one of our trips to Kiel to bomb the pocket-battleship Gneisenau. We rarely had an accurate Met. forecast on the trips we did in that winter of 1941-42, and on this night the conditions turned out to be worse than even the Met. Officer had forecast. We took off in the darkness and gloom and entered heavy cloud at 600 feet We climbed [page break] steadily out over the North Sea but at 20,500 feet we had still not reached clear air. With our bomb load we could climb no higher. We were somewhere in the top of the cloud mass, the moon a faint blur of light on our starboard bow. Below and around us were numerous gun-flashes from the flak defences of Kiel, and as obtaining a visual pinpoint was obviously impossible we bombed the centre of the flak concentration. We turned for home, still in cloud. After over three hours of manual flying, concentrating solely on the instrument panel in front of me, and losing height slowly down to 1,000 feet, I became aware that we had finally reached the cloudbase. Then to my relief and delight I pinpointed Spurn Head, our crossing-in point, about four miles to starboard, and saw the four red obstruction lights of the radar station near Cleethorpes dead ahead. We heartily congratulated Col on his navigation – seven hours plus in cloud and only four miles off track at the end of it. But Sergeant Dooley and Tony had outshone us. Like us, finding the target in Kiel docks completely cloud-covered he had refused the opportunity to bomb blind as most of us had done. They set course for the Baltic Sea, topped the cloud and found moonlight – and stars. Flying straight and level, which one had to do to take astro-shots of the various stars on the astrograph chart, and which one could safely do over the sea, but which was a most unhealthy undertaking over hostile territory, Sergeant Dooley obtained an astro fix of their exact position. He then plotted a dead-reckoning track and course to the target, some distance away, and when their E.T.A. was up, bombed on that. The Squadron Navigation Officer subsequently re-plotted his whole log and found that they had been ‘spot-on’ the target. Such was the ability and experience of Tony and his crew. When his tour was finally over and he had a well-deserved D.F.C. to his credit he was posted away to some hush-hush job at an aerodrome on Salisbury Plain, and both the Mess and B Flight Office were the poorer and less colourful for his going. My final meeting with him before my posting and his shockingly unexpected and untimely death was a few weeks after he had left the Squadron at the end of his tour. He appeared one day, cheerful and unchanged as ever, in the anteroom one lunchtime. He had flown up, [page break] unofficially, one guessed, in a small, twin-engined trainer. He was, he told us, flying all sorts of kites, at all sorts of heights, mostly over the Channel. He alleged that ‘they’, whoever they might be, and he did nothing to enlighten us on that, even wanted him to fly inverted on occasions. Beyond that he said nothing, and we did not ask him too many questions. He mentioned that although he had flown up to see us in the Oxford, one of the several aircraft at the secret establishment, he would have preferred something else – “I wanted to come in the Walrus”, he chuckled, naming an antiquated and noisy single-pusher-engined flying boat, usually operated by the Fleet Air Arm. “I’d love to have taxied up to the Watch Office and chucked the anchor out!” He left us after a cheerful lunch and went for ever out of my life, for which I am greatly the poorer. It seems that he came back to 12, without a crew, for a second tour and was insistent on taking part in the first 1,000 bomber raid, that on Cologne, with a completely new crew. His was the first aircraft to be shot down that night. It happened over the outskirts of Amsterdam. How he came to be there will always remain a mystery to me, as the route planned for that night to Cologne lay over the estuary of the Scheldt, mush [sic] further south, its numerous islands providing invaluable pinpoints. He and all his crew are buried in beautifully tended graves in a shady part of Amsterdam’s New Eastern Cemetery, which I have several times visited. On one visit to Amsterdam I had contacted a Dutchman who had formed part of the team of volunteers who had excavated the remains of C-Charlie, Tony’s aircraft on that fatal night in May 1942. I was able to visit the crash site in the suburb of Badhoevedorp. A small museum of remembrance had been created in some old underground fortifications on the outskirts of the city where were reverently displayed several small identifiable components of the aircraft, as well as one or two pathetic personal belongings of the crew. I was offered, and accepted, a small section of the geodetic construction of the Wellington and this now has a place of honour in my living room, where Tony, from his portrait, appears to be looking down upon it. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Mind you don’t scratch the paint [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] MIND YOU DON’T SCRATCH THE PAINT [/underlined] After what happened that night to his beloved Z-Zebra when we, for the first and only time, were being allowed to fly it on ops, I could have quite understood if Tony had never wanted to have anything to do with me, or with any of the crew, again. But instead, after it was all over, for some time afterwards, whenever he happened to see me in the anteroom there would come into his eyes a gleam of what I could only interpret as amusement, but something more besides; this was a look of amusement mingled with a knowledge and appreciation of our good fortune, the look which perhaps a proud parent gives to his offspring as he sees him emerge from the last obstacle of a tricky course in the school sports and run triumphantly towards the finishing line, a “by-God-you’ve-done-it” look. A fanciful idea maybe, but the more I look back on it, the more I am sure that was what it was. It was when we had already done a handful of ops, I remember, and when he himself must have been well on towards finishing his tour – remarkable enough in itself – and quite some while after the events which led to his, and our, final trip in ‘Z’ that he caught my eye and beckoned me over, one day when there was no flying, in the mess at Binbrook. He and I were both standing among the small crowd of aircrew officers near the fireplace, tankards in our hands, nearly all of us smoking, under the gaze of the portrait of Donald Garland, V.C., and of the fox’s mask mounted on its wooden shield. And when I had made my way towards him he paid me a great and surprising compliment, he who was without doubt one of the finest of the many fine pilots on the Squadron. . . . . . . . . . . . . But the story, of course, starts some time before that, when we were very much the new boys, before I and the rest of the crew had been blooded on ops. When we had arrived on the Squadron from our Operational Training Unit at Bassingbourn, Elmer, my co-pilot, [page break] had been allocated to Mike Duder’s crew, while the rest of us had been taken over, as it were, by Ralph, a pilot who had a few ops already to his credit. We settled down comfortably enough with him and went through the final stages of our familiarisation and training on the Mark II Wellington in preparation for our first operation together. This landmark in one’s flying career was something which I, at any rate, had looked forward to – if that is the correct form of words – with a mixture of curiosity, awe and a certain degree of apprehension tinged with excitement; I regarded it as a large step into a completely unknown world. Just how hazardous a step it would turn out to be I was soon to discover. At that time, my logbook tells me, we had no aircraft which we could really regard as our own, perhaps because we were a fresher crew, I don’t know. However, we had flown seven different aircraft since joining ‘B’ Flight. One morning we reported as usual, to the Flights. I had the privilege of using, along with others, Abey’s, our Flight Commander’s, office as a sort of mini-crewroom. It was late November and we sat around talking, shop mostly, until about ten o’clock, when Abey’s phone rang. All conversation stopped. We knew what it would be – either another stand-down, or a target. It was a target, for freshers only. It would not be named until briefing that afternoon, of course, but I was fairly certain it would be one of the French Channel ports. Abey nodded to me pleasantly and said, “Let the rest of your crew know, will you?” Then he looked quickly at the blackboard fixed to the wall facing him and said, “Look, I think you’d better take Z-Zebra, Tony’s aircraft – he’s off to Buck House tomorrow to collect his gong from the King.” Tony Payne wasn’t in the Flight Office at the time, I suppose he had been told by Abey that he wouldn’t be required in any case; an appointment with His Majesty would naturally take priority over anything. So it was lunchtime when we’d done our quite uneventful night flying test on ‘Z’, that I saw him in the Mess. Or rather, that he saw me, and made a bee-line for me. “What’s this I hear, then?” he asked. I grinned at him. [page break] “You mean about Z-Zebra?” “Yes, I mean about Z-Zebra. My Z-Zebra. You’re not actually going to fly my kite, are you? On ops? God!” There was a look of mock-horror on his face. “Well, that’s what Abey said, so that’s what we’re doing. Don’t worry, Tony, we won’t bend it, or anything.” “Bend it? You’d better not! If you so much as scratch the paint I shall deal with you all personally, one at a time, when you come back, you mark my words!” We both knew he was kidding, but I knew, too, that ‘Z’ was the apple of Tony’s eye and that it had served him well. I hoped that it would serve as [sic] well, too. Briefing was in the early afternoon. I cannot recall that there were many of us there, three crews at most is my recollection. The target was Cherbourg docks, time on target 2100 to 2130, bomb-load seven five hundred pounders, high explosive, route Base – Reading – Bognor Regis – target and return the same way. I felt nothing other than curious anticipation, once the time of take-off drew nearer. I think the thought that we were in ‘Z’ boosted my morale. Tony’s aircraft must be good, for he was good, the best. That followed; ‘Z’ wouldn’t let us down. The trip was going to be, if not the proverbial piece of cake, then quite O.K., quite straightforward, a nice one to start us off, of that I was confident. It was a Saturday evening and dusk was falling as I went up to the Flights and opened my locker in Abey’s office. He was there, of course, looking quietly on at the small handful of us putting on our kit for the op. I started to struggle into my flying kit. Roll-necked sweater under my tunic, brown padded inner suit from neck to ankle, like a tightly fitting eiderdown, old school scarf, which, while I would never have admitted it, was my good-luck talisman. Pale green, slightly faded canvas outer flying suit with fur collar, wool-lined leather flying boots, parachute harness, Mae West and, lastly, ‘chute and helmet, which I carried. I checked that I had the issued silk handkerchief, printed very finely with a map of France, just in case, and I touched the reassuring small miniature compass, [page break] sewn into my brevet, another aid to evasion if forced to bale out. I joined Ralph and the lads in the hangar. There was a continuous buzz of conversation, the odd burst of laughter. Ralph was smiling with rather forced cheerfulness, no doubt wondering how his new crew would cope. Col, our Aussie Observer, looked more sallow than usual and was chewing gum rapidly. His Australian twang, when he spoke, was more pronounced, it seemed to me. Mick, the wireless op., looked worried, as usual, and said nothing, while Tommy, our rear gunner, was completely unconcerned and grinning from ear to ear. Johnnie, who would occupy the front turret, was his calm and quite imperturbable self, almost, I realised, the complete antithesis of Tommy. Ralph said quickly, “Let’s go, then,” and we strolled out of the chilly, pale blue lighting of the hangar into the darkness. We climbed awkwardly into the waiting crew-bus parked on the perimeter track. A half moon was beginning to show, flitting in and out of the scattered clouds which were drifting out to sea from off the Lincolnshire Wolds. It was cold, and despite my flying kit, I shivered a little. Col was still chewing stolidly, his face expressionless. There was a little desultory conversation as the bus rolled towards the dispersals, but the night’s op was not mentioned. “Z-Zebra,” called the W.A.A.F. driver through the little window at the front of the bus. We started to clamber stiffly down the back steps, reluctant to leave the companionable shelter of the vehicle. “Have a good trip!” Someone from another crew shouted the conventional but oddly reassuring words, which were invariably used to send a crew on their way. “You too,” one of us replied. Z-Zebra loomed over us in the semi-darkness. The crew bus rumbled away. The silence was intense, almost tangible. The ground-crew stood around, blowing on their hands and beating their arms around their bodies against the cold. There were muted greetings. Col and I walked several yards away from the kite, lit cigarettes from my case and took a dozen or so quick draws before stamping them out. “Come on, let’s get started,” I muttered, and we clambered up the red ladder which jutted down from Z’s nose. Johnnie was handing [page break] the pigeon in its ventilated box carefully up to Mick. We struggled in, heavily and clumsily, each to his position. I hoisted myself over the main spar and stood in the astrodome, reaching down to plug in my intercom lead, and I found the hot-air hose, aiming it to blow on to my body once the engines had been started. The port engine suddenly stammered and roared into life, then the starboard. We heard Ralph blow twice into his mike to test the intercom, then he spoke. “Everyone O.K? Harry?” “O.K., skip,” I said. “Col?” “Yeah, skip.” “Mick?” O.K.” “Johnnie?” “O.K., skipper.” Johnnie was always punctilious and correct. “Tommy? All right at the back there?” “Yes, fine, skip.” “Right, I’ll take it there and do the bombing run, Harry, you can bring us back.” “O.K., skip,” I said. Ralph’s mike clicked off. There was an increased roar from the port enging, [sic] shaking the whole kite, then from the starboard, as Ralph ran them up, checking the power, the magnetos, the oil pressure and the engine temperatures. The kite was shivering like a nervous racehorse at the starting gate, waiting for the off. A lull, then I felt a lurch as we moved slowly out of dispersal. The hangars, topped by their red obstruction lights, slid by, then we were at the end of the runway in use. Behind us I could see the nav. lights of the other aircraft which were to share the night sky with us over Cherbourg. A green Alldis light flashed directly on to us – dah, dah, di-di, - Z. “You’ve got your green, skipper,” I said. We were on our way. “O.K., here we go, hold on to your hats.” Johnnie appeared alongside me and grinned rather wolfishly; the front [page break] gunner went into his turret only when we were safely airborne. Ralph opened up the throttles against the brakes to lift the tail a little. Z-Zebra jerked and strained, then suddenly we surged forward, the engines howling. The Drem lighting of the flarepath smudged past, faster and faster as we charged down the runway. The bar of lights with the two goose-neck flares at the far end slid towards us, then suddenly all vibration ceased; we were airborne, we were on our way. Johnnie gave me the thumbs-up and vanished up front to go into his turret. In a few seconds he called up to say he was in position. I felt and heard Ralph throttling back to settle into the long climb to operational height; we would aim to be at 20,000 feet over the target. He began a turn to port to bring us back over the centre of the aerodrome to set course accurately for Reading. The night was clear, some cloud showing vaguely out to sea, a blaze of stars everywhere, with the half moon as yet low on the port beam. There were several flashing red beacons to be seen, scattered over the dim landscape like lurid and sinister fireflies, but no-one bothered to read their Morse letters on the way out; coming home, it would be another matter, they would be looked for and read as eagerly as one used to read the familiar names on railway stations on the way back from a holiday. From the astrodome the mainplanes were pale in the faint moonlight, the exhaust stubs glowed redly. The rudder was a tall finger behind us, under which sat Tommy in his turret, a lonely place. I could see the guns rotating from side to side as he kept watch. There was little sensation of height or speed as the engines roared steadily under climbing power, the passage of time seemed suspended and there was a sense of complete detachment from the earth and from all things on it. Conversation was limited to the essential minimum. Ralph came up, eventually, on the intercom. “Oxygen on, please, Harry, ten thousand feet.” I acknowledged, unplugged my intercom and left my position, going forward over the main spar to where just behind the Observer’s compartment the oxygen bottles were in racks up on the port side of the [page break] fuselage. I screwed open the valves on each one and returned to the astrodome. “Oxygen on, skipper.” I plugged in the bayonet fitting of my oxygen tube to the nearest socket and clipped the mask on my helmet securely to cover my nose and mouth. After a while, “Glow on the deck, dead ahead, skipper,” Johnnie said. I went forward quickly to stand beside Ralph. “Looks like Reading,” I said, “they always did have a lousy blackout. See those two lines of lights? The railway station. Wouldn’t that slay you? I don’t know how they don’t get bombed to hell.” “Useful for us, anyhow,” Ralph replied, “we’re dead on track and two minutes to E.T.A., too. Good for you, Col,” he called. The faint glow of Reading vanished under the nose. The moon was a bit higher now. Col gave the new course for Bognor. I took a deep breath of oxygen and holding it in my lungs as long as I could, went back to the astrodome. Tommy spoke up, rather fractiously. “Bloody cold back here.” “Shut up a minute, Tommy,” I heard Mick say, “I’m listening out to Group.” No-one spoke for a while. Then I caught a glimpse of a white flashing beacon to starboard. These were very useful; Observers kept a list of them coded with their actual Latitude and Longitude positions. I switched on my mike. “Occult flashing R Robert about five miles to starboard, Col,” I said. Then, “That’s peculiar,” I thought, “I didn’t hear my own voice saying that.” I checked my intercom switch and repeated what I’d said. Still nothing. I moved over to the intercom point at the flarechute and plugged in. I blew into my mike – dead as mutton. Taking a gulp of oxygen I went forward to Col’s desk and banged him on the shoulder. He looked up in surprise. I undid his helmet and shouted in his ear. “Is your intercom working?” He thumbed the switch and I saw his lips moving. Then he shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Bloody thing’s crook,” he shouted. After another gulp of oxygen I went forward to yell in Ralph’s ear. [page break] “Intercom’s u/s!” I saw Ralph check his mike, then he nodded, the corners of his mouth turned down ruefully. “Not a sausage,” he shouted, “see if Mick can fix it.” I pushed through the door into Mick’s compartment. He beat me to it. “Intercom’s u/s, R/T, too.” “See if you can fix it!” Mick nodded. I went forward again to Ralph, who had scribbled a note on a message pad. ‘If no joy in 15 min. we jettison and abort.’ Without the intercom we would be completely cut off from one another, an impossible situation. I settled into the second pilot’s position alongside Ralph, thinking that I might as well stay up front for a while. Ralph was writing something again, letting the trimmers fly the aircraft while he did so. ‘Tell the gunners,’ I read, and gave him the thumbs-up. More oxygen, then I ducked under the instrument panel, past the bomb-sight, treading gingerly on the bottom escape hatch, and quickly opened the front turret doors. My God, I thought, it’s freezing cold in here. Johnnie twisted himself round and looked at me questioningly. “Intercom’s gone for a Burton,” I shouted, “we may have to scrub it.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded. Half way back down the fuselage I saw the rear turret doors opening and Tommy emerged, slightly red in the face. “My bloody intercom’s u/s,” he shouted, looking aggrieved. I told him the situation quickly and he went back into his turret. I bent over Mick, who was fiddling with the intricacies of the radio equipment. “Any joy?” I shouted. Mick grimaced and shook his head. “Keep trying, Mick.” When I went back to Ralph he leaned over and shouted, “If Mick can’t fix it by Bognor, we’ll jettison ten miles out to sea and go home.” [page break] I wrote a note for Col and passed it to him. I was already hoarse with shouting and tired from moving around the aircraft on scanty oxygen. Still we climbed. Bognor was now below us, I could distinguish the shape of the south coast, the Isle of Wight. Col came forward and made book-opening movements of his hands to Ralph who nodded and selected the bomb-door switch to ‘open’. Col ducked down to the bombsight. I wondered idly whether there were any convoys below; even though the bombs would be dropped ‘safe’ they wouldn’t like five hundred pounds of solid metal from this height. There was a slight shudder as the bombs went. Col came back. “Bloody waste,” he shouted. Ralph nodded as he closed the bomb-doors. He shouted to me, “We might as well get down lower where we can come off oxygen. Get a course from Col, will you?” I did so and set it on the compass for Ralph, who did a wide turn to port, losing height steadily. The altimeter slowly unwound. When we passed through ten thousand feet I turned off the bottles and went the rounds of the crew, telling each one we were on the way home. Their reactions were muted, impassive. Soon we were down to two thousand feet, droning over the dim November landscape. There were no beacons to be seen anywhere in this area. I stood alongside Ralph, wondering if I would get a chance to fly ‘Z’ soon, but perhaps he didn’t like the thought of passing messages himself; the journey from front turret to rear, for example, was a bit of an obstacle race. Quite suddenly, I noticed that the starboard engine temperature was up. I tapped Ralph on the arm and pointed to it. He nodded slowly, we droned onwards. I looked out of my side window, through the arc of the propeller, mere inches away, at the starboard engine. Was it my imagination, or was there a whitish mist streaming back from it? Ralph had levelled off at a thousand feet. Col came in and handed him a note of E.TA. Reading. The starboard engine temperature was higher, and now the oil pressure was decidedly down, too. We’ve got trouble, damn it, I thought, and I saw there was now [page break] no doubt at all about the trail of vapour from the engine. “Looks like a glycol leak,” I told Ralph, who stared grimly ahead and nodded. Then he turned to me. “Get Mick on the W/T to base, returning early, intercom and R/T u/s, glycol leak starboard engine.” I gave him the thumbs-up, seized a message pad and wrote it down, then went aft and handed it to Mick, who was sitting glumly at his table. He looked at the note, raised his eyebrows and frowned, then started to tap out the message on the Morse key. Up front again I saw that the vapour leak from the engine was now streaked with red, and angry looking sparks were flying back over the engine nacelle and the trailing edge of the mainplane. I nudged Ralph, who leaned over to look, then grimaced. Now, the engine temperature was very high and the oil pressure had slumped even further. Z-Zebra was in real trouble. As is the way in flying, events thereafter moved in a downward spiral from bad to desperate with sickening rapidity. A lick of flame spat out of the engine, over the starboard mainplane, then horrifyingly, like the tail of a rocket, the flame shot back towards the rear turret. “Fire!” I yelled in Ralph’s ear. I pressed the extinguisher button on the instrument panel. Ralph chopped the starboard throttle back and hauled the wheel over to counteract the lurch and swing. I looked at the flames which were now pouring out of the duff engine, over the cowling and the trailing edge of the mainplane. Suddenly Tommy appeared at my side. “Hey! There’s a hell of a lot of sparks flying past my turret!” “Yes, we’re on fire, but we’re trying to get it out,” I shouted back at him. Tommy’s eyes opened wide when he saw the blazing engine. “Jesus bloody Christ,” he said, in awe. We were now below 1000 feet. Ralph had opened up the port engine to try to maintain height, but we were turning slowly to starboard the whole time. I thought about the best part of 375 gallons of petrol in the starboard wing-tank, then about the western edge of London and its balloon barrage, somewhere very close to us. We [page break] were in one hell of a mess, I thought, and it began to dawn on me that the situation could well kill us all. I tried not to think too hard about that. Ralph was wrestling with Z-Zebra, trying to keep it on some sort of a course, but it appeared to be useless. “Poop off some reds,” he yelled, “and look out for a flarepath!” I hurried aft. “Put the I.F.F. on Stud 3,” I shouted to Mick, above the howl of the good engine, and nodding glumly, Mick switched to this distress frequency which would show up as a distinctively shaped trace on all ground radar sets. I quickly found some double-red Verey cartridges and got the signal pistol down from its fixture in the roof of the fuselage. I loaded the cartridges and shot them off one at a time. “Can’t do much more now,” I said to myself, and hoped for the sight of a flarepath, a directing searchlight, or anything that would help us. I went forward again. We were still losing height and I realised that we were too low to bale out. But the fire had died down and I sighed with relief at that. The prop windmilled slowly and uselessly. I wished that Z-Zebra had been fitted with propeller feathering devices, but it was useless wishing thoughts like that. I peered intently at the starboard wing; there didn’t seem to be any fire there, thank God, otherwise we would simply blow up in mid-air and that would be that. Now, the immediate problem was how we were going to get back on to the ground in approximately one piece; there wasn’t a flarepath or a beacon to be seen anywhere. I felt completely helpless and at the mercy of a capricious and malignant fate which I could do nothing to influence. It was like being in a paper bag going down a waterfall. Ralph’s face was grim as he struggled to keep straight and to maintain altitude. I heaved a length of wrapped elastic from my parachute stowage and tied the wheel fully over to the left, to take the load off Ralph a little. He nodded his thanks. Another length of elastic; I tied the rudder bar over to the geodetics. That was all I could do. I looked out again. Still no sign of friendly lights and the treetops were looking damned close now. The port engine exhaust stubs were bright red due to the punishment the engine was taking and I knew it was just a matter of minutes before we hit something. I thought, “This is a hell of a shaky do.” Then, ahead, I saw an interruption in the dark skyline and I was puzzled as to what it [page break] could be. I took a glance as [sic] the A.S.I., just under 100 m.p.h., much too near stalling speed for comfort. I hardly dared look at the altimeter, it showed a mere 200 feet now. The curious, dim outlines on the skyline grew slowly larger as we staggered on. That was about it, Z-Zebra was simply staggering along and sinking through the air, almost on the point of stalling, when we would drop like a stone. I was holding the wheel over to port, helping Ralph all I could. Keep height and we lost speed; keep speed and we lost height. That was the quite hopeless situation. The jagged skyline, which was now beginning to fill the windscreen, resolved itself horrifyingly, in the dim moonlight, into buildings. A town, and worst of all, a town with a tall, thick chimney, dead ahead. “Jesus Christ,” I thought, “we’ve bloody well had it now, we’re going to hit that bloody chimney.” 100 feet on the altimeter. Now we were over the town, churning over the roofs at 90 miles an hour. The streets looked so close that I could have put out a hand to touch them. The chimney loomed nearer, the black roofs skated away behind us, apparently just below the floor of the fuselage. I thought of the people in those houses, cringing as they heard the hideous noise just above their heads, praying that the aircraft wouldn’t hit them in a cataclysm of bricks, rubble and blazing petrol. I was sweating as I frantically heaved at the wheel to try to help Ralph. His eyes were staring as though he were hypnotised by the sight of the chimney. With agonising slowness it slid towards us, slightly to starboard now, it seemed, then just beyond the starboard wingtip, a handful of yards away. I shut my eyes for a second, hardly daring to believe that we had missed it. “Thank Christ for that!” I yelled at Ralph. We were over open fields again. Ralph shouted desperately, “I’ll have to put it down soon, get them into crash positions!” I hurried to the front turret, collected Johnnie, who was as pleasant and imperturbable as though he was sitting in an armchair in the Mess. he would have had a grandstand view of the whole thing, up to now. Together, we grabbed Mick and Col. The three of them lay on the floor of the fuselage, hands clasped behind their necks. [page break] I hurried, stumbling, to the rear turret and wrenched open the doors. “Crash landing, any minute now!” I yelled at Tommy. He would sit tight, his was the safest place in the kite in this situation. I almost envied him. I rushed forward again and took a final glance out of the windscreen. We were at treetop level. Then I went back to join Mick, Col and Johnnie. There was not enough room for me to lie down, so I stood sideways on, taking a firm grip on the geodetics, and hoped for the best. Suddenly the port engine was throttled right back. This was it, I thought. A few seconds’ silence, which seemed like a month, then a tremendous impact. A cool smell of newly-torn earth filled the aircraft. I hear, unbelievably, a long burst of machine gun fire and could see red tracer flying ahead of us. I couldn’t think what was going on; surely we weren’t being shot at? The kite bucketed along, everything twisting and grinding, the deceleration fantastic. I could hardly stay upright. The smell of ploughed earth was beautiful, almost intoxicating. I hung on grimly, and after what seemed an age, we finally lurched to a halt. For an instant there was total, blissful silence. “Everyone out, quick!” I shouted. The three of them hurried forward where I could see Ralph’s legs vanishing through the escape hatch above the pilot’s seat. Tommy came staggering from the rear of the fuselage, clutching his forehead. “You O.K.?” I asked him. “Hit me bloody head on some broken sodding geodetics,” he said angrily. “Hurry up and get out in case the bloody kite goes up,” I said urgently, and I pushed him forward, ahead of me. He climbed out of the top hatch via the pilot’s seat; I was hard on his heels. I could hear Johnnie telling someone, in his clear, modulated voice, that he had forgotten to put the safety-catch of his guns on to ‘safe’, the impact of the crash had set them firing. I hoped vaguely that no-one had been hurt. It was years later that I learned that one bullet had gone through a child’s bedroom window as her mother was putting her to bed; the bullet had embedded itself in the mattress without harming the little girl. [page break] I followed Tommy up and out. I was swinging my legs over the edge of the escape hatch, on to the top of Z-Zebra, when I saw a spurt of flame from the port engine. The strain had been too much for it. “Port engine’s on fire!” I shouted to them, “get to hell out of it!” I jumped back inside the cockpit, quickly found the port fire-extinguisher button and jabbed my thumb hard on it, swearing softly under my breath. Then I clambered out again, found the port mainplane under my feet and walked down it on to the field. The aircraft looked like a landed whale, its props bent grotesquely backwards, its back dismally broken, with the rudder towering up at an odd angle, its wings now spread uselessly across the stubble and the broad rut which we had gouged out of the field trailing back towards the hedge, between some tall trees. The crew were grouped together twenty yards away. “Come on, Harry!” someone shouted. A man was running over the field towards us, I could see the steam of his panting breaths in the moonlight as he got nearer and heard him excitedly saying something about ‘the biggest field in the district’. The moon shone palely through the trees which we had missed and the air was sweet as wine. I lit a cigarette and joined the others. “Are you O.K.?” Col asked. I nodded. “Bloody fine landing, Ralph,” I said, “damn good show.” We followed the man over the stubble, towards the broken hedge, then to an Auxiliary Fire Station on the outskirts of St. Albans, where we had come down. . . . . . . . . . . . . “Look,” Tony said confidentially, “you know I’ve got …… as my co-pilot?” “Yes,” I said, wondering what was coming next. “Well, between you and me, I’m really not all that happy with him. Would you like to come into my crew? I can fix it with Abey, if you would.” [page break] When I recovered from my astonishment it didn’t take me long to decide. I shook my head. “No, thanks, Tony, no, really, I wouldn’t want to leave my own crew, you know.” “Oh, well, I can quite understand that. I just thought - . But if you do change your mind, there’s a place for you with me, any time.” I thanked him. I have never forgotten the honour he did me. As I have said, Tony took the wrecking of Z-Zebra quite well, all things being considered. Shortly afterwards, he finished his tour. His crew were posted away, while he himself went on to some hush-hush flying, somewhere on Salisbury Plain, we heard, involving several different types of aircraft. It was something, we guessed, in connection with the development of radar and its applications. He paid us a visit once, in an Anson. “I wanted to come up in a Walrus,” he said, naming a slow, noisy and out-of-date small flying-boat, “and throw out the anchor in front of the Watch Office!” We had a jocular half hour with him in front of the ante-room fire. Tony Payne came back to the Squadron for his second tour of ops. He took a new crew, on their first trip, on the Thousand Bomber raid on Cologne. His was the first aircraft to be shot down that night. He was hit by flak over Ijmuiden, on the Dutch Coast and the aircraft blew up over Badhoevedorp, on the outskirts of Amsterdam, killing him and the whole crew. They are buried together in a beautiful shady spot in Amsterdam East Cemetery, their graves lovingly kept and cared for. I have visited the place where they fell; I have seen the place where they now lie at peace. Most of the aircraft was salvaged recently by some caring Dutch people, and I have a fragment of it on my bookshelf, to remind me of the man that was Tony. Not that I need much reminding. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Rabbie [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] RABBIE [/underlined] He was the sort of bloke one took to automatically if one was of a fairly quiet disposition, for he himself was quiet almost to the point of being self-effacing. On the ground, that is. But in the air – well, that was another matter. On the evidence that I had, at least, it seemed that another side of his nature took over. In build, he was perhaps an inch or so taller than me, well made, with rather thick, limp, fairish hair, quite piercingly blue eyes and a mobile mouth which always carried the trace of a smile, as though he were laughing inwardly at some secret joke. His manner of speaking was strange until you got used to it; he would start a sentence then lower his eyes almost apologetically, as though he were afraid you were becoming bored with what he was saying. His voice was quite deep, very quiet, and his utterances were staccato, like short bursts of machine-gun fire, punctuated by little nervous laughs, almost sniggers. Now and again he would stammer slightly, and now and again a trace of his native soft Scots accent would ripple the surface of his halting, quietly spoken sentences. It was I who first called him Rabbie, on account of this inflexion of voice, which, when he became animated, would show more prominently. I think he secretly rather liked the name; there weren’t many Scotsmen on the Squadron as far as I knew, and certainly, there weren’t many in ‘B’ Flight. We became friendly, and although on stand-down trips to G.Y., as we invariably called Grimsby, crews usually went as crews, on nights when we stayed in the Mess he and I, more often than not, would gravitate together, along with Eric. Possible because the three of us where a shade quieter types than, say, Tony or Teddy Bairstow. I don’t know how it came about that I flew to Pershore with him – he had done his O.T.U. there, it seemed, and on a stand-down day he got permission from Abey to do a cross-country there. He must have asked me if I would like a ride; anyhow, I went along with him. He had his own co-pilot, Sandy, with him, and his crew. It was then I discovered the other side of Rabbie. I had only been on the Squadron a fortnight and everything was new and a bit strange. [page break] Rabbie and most of the others were comparatively old hands, and whereas I was a strictly-by-the-book pilot, I soon found that there were others who weren’t. Like that day, when I flew with Rabbie. One normally did cross-countries at a sober and sedate height, say between two and six thousand feet. Perhaps for a few minutes, now and again, one might have a crazy fit and beat up a train or something or other, but unauthorised low flying was a Court Martial offence, and all pilots had been repeatedly warned of that fact ever since they started flying at E.F.T.S. We went off in Barred C, Abey’s own aircraft, and once we’d cleared the circuit, quite simply, it was a hundred feet maximum all the way. To begin with, I was shaken rigid, I’d never known anything quite like it; such sustained, hair-raising excitement, spiced with the occasional bad fright. Trees, villages, hills, hedges, they all streamed by; very little was said among the crew. When I’d collected my scattered wits and realised that this was second nature to all of them, I began to enjoy it a little more. We landed at Pershore, Rabbie said hello to one or two old friends, we lunched, took off again and came back at the same height, all the way. I was getting used to it by this time, but I still swallowed hard once or twice. When we had landed and taxied in I came down the ladder after most of them. Rabbie and the crew were doing what we usually did then, taking off helmets, sorting out the navigation stuff, looking for some transport back to the Flights. As we lit cigarettes, and with his little secret smile, Rabbie said to me, “Enjoy it?” “Rabbie,” I said to him, “excuse me for asking, but do you always do your cross-countries at nought feet?” He gave his little sniggering laugh and looked down. “Well, no,” he said softly, “but you have to let your hair down now and again.” Some of it must have rubbed off on Sandy, too, except that he gave himself a bad fright. It really could have been quite a shaky do. Several of us were in ‘B’ Flight office one afternoon, doing nothing in particular. We had a couple of kites on, that night, [page break] but most of us had been stood down too late to go into G.Y. The phone rang and Abey answered it, his face, as usual, giving nothing away. He looked across at the blackboard as he listened and our eyes followed his, wondering. “That’s right, E-Edward,” he said, and rang off. The board said, ‘E’ – Sgt. Sanders – Local flying – airborne 1420.’ “We’d better go and see this,” Abey said calmly, straightening a few things on his desk, “Sandy may be in a bit of bother, it appears that he’s hit something south of here. He’s coming in now.” We piled into the Flight van and hared out to dispersal. Just then, we saw ‘E’ land, quite a reasonable one, too. We breathed again. Then, as we waited, he taxied in and we could see that where the port half of his windscreen had been there was just a jagged hole. The air-intake on his port engine looked peculiar, too, it was half bunged up with something greyish. Sandy stopped in his dispersal and cut the engines. The ladder came down and he climbed down it a bit tentatively, looking decidedly sheepish when he saw the reception committee. He and Abey talked rather quietly together while the crew climbed down and stood around, fiddling with their ‘chutes and navigation stuff, surreptitiously brushing what looked very like feathers from off themselves and trying to look unconcerned. Someone who had overheard the conversation muttered, “Been low-flying over the Wash and hit a bunch of seagulls.” We grinned at [sic] bit at that, once we knew they were all O.K. Abey’s poker face said nothing as he turned away from Sandy. Then someone nearby said, “Hey, Sandy, what’s wrong with your face?” and when we looked closely we could see a piece of pink seagull flesh sticking to his cheek. Sandy put a hand up to his face, then had a look at what he had collected. Slowly, his eyes rolled up, his knees buckled and he fell at our feet in a dead faint. Abey, good type that he was, hushed it all up. Not long afterwards, a handful of our kites went as part of a smallish force to attack one of the north German ports. It might have been Emden. Rabbie was on it; I wasn’t. Next morning, after breakfast, Teddy put his head around the door of the ante-room, his eyes starting out of his thin, pale face. [page break] “Hey!” he exclaimed, “You want to have a look at Rabbie’s kite, he’s had a right shaky do!” He tore off out, to tell someone else. Quickly, we made our way up to the Flights. ‘E’ was parked right outside ‘B’ Flight hangar, and most of the starboard mainplane out board of the engine just wasn’t there. The wing finished in a ragged, twisted jumble of geodetics. Obviously, they had had a very narrow escape indeed from a burst of flak. I climbed aboard. The wheel was tied over to port with a chunk of rope. I found Rabbie, poking idly about at this and that. “Dodging the photographic bod,” he said with an apologetic grin. There was one of the photographic section erks outside now, fussing about with a camera, taking pictures of ‘E’. Rabbie looked paler than usual, thoughtful. “How the hell did you manage to get it back like this?” I asked. “Oh,” he said, with his nervous little snigger, “it wasn’t too b-bad, Sandy and I tied the wheel over a bit,” and nodded towards it. The photo erk had gone and the sightseers had thinned out to two or three. I climbed out, chatting to Rabbie, but as we talked, I could see something different. There was something in his eyes that I’d never seen there before, a distant, almost other-worldly expression. When I left the Squadron I lost touch with everyone, including, at times, myself. It was a long time afterwards, and I was talking to Eric on the telephone. We had reached the “Do you remember” and “What happened to” stage. “By the way,” I asked him, “what ever happened to Rabbie?” “Rabbie?” Eric replied, “Oh, I’m afraid he was shot down, you know.” It had happened near the Dutch town of Beverwijk. Rabbie had finished up as a P.o.W with Eric and Abey, then had been repatriated on account of injuries to his hands, Eric said. Some of his crew had been killed. In June 1989 a Dutch air-war historian took me to a beautifully-kept cemetery in the small town of Bergen, near Alkmaar, to visit the graves of a contemporary crew of ‘B’ Flight whom I had known. [page break] As I was turning to leave, my eye, quite by chance, noticed another name on a nearby tombstone, one which I immediately recognised, that of our Commanding Officer, who had gone missing while I was with the Squadron. Very near to him and to the others was yet another familiar name, that of Sandy. Each name of all the aircrew, some 200 of them, who are buried there, is inscribed upon the bells of the local church, just across the way. One of the bells is perpetually silent, representing those who could not be identified. And one bell bears the inscription – “I sound for those who fell for freedom.” . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Letter home [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] LETTER HOME [/underlined] I wonder how many premonitions the average person has during his or her lifetime. It’s not the sort of topic which crops up very much in normal conversation, so I don’t think it can happen all that often. But when it does, and you believe you are being given a glimpse of the future, it can be quite weird and rather frightening. So far, I can recall three instances personally. One was at a very long interval of time, one was just the opposite, while the third - . That is what the letter home was about. A week or two ago I was watching a debate from the House of Commons on television. There was a fairly sparse attendance, the subject became rather mundane and my attention, frankly, was beginning to wander. I looked along the green leather seats where the numerous absentees would normally have sat. Surely, I thought, surely seats like those had played some part in my life at some time? Then I had it – they were the colour of the wooden-framed armchairs in the anteroom of the Mess at Binbrook. And I was immediately reminded of the first, and very strong, premonition I had had there, and was coping with, as I sat in one of those chairs, almost alone in the quiet room on that winter’s night, waiting to take off on a raid over Germany – and not expecting to come back. Looking into my logbook now, I can narrow it down to one of four dates, but the actual date is of no importance. The premonition I had, though, was important, very important to me, very gradual, but extremely strong. Abey, our Flight Commander in ‘B’ Flight was, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. He was then in charge of eight or ten crews of six men each which comprised ‘B’ Flight, and he had, among many other things, the responsibility of selecting crews under his command for any operations on any particular night, or day. Fortunately, the latter were scarce enough. Sometimes the choice was simple, if a maximum effort was called for by Command or Group, he simple sent everyone whose aircraft was serviceable. But sometimes [page break] he had to choose, and no-one envied him that, nor ever queried his choice. Querying things like that is something that happens in films, usually bad ones. If a “fresher” target was specified for the night’s operations then novice crews, who had done up to four of five ops were selected to go. If he had any choice at all, any crew due for leave went on leave, that same morning. He did his job well and fairly; he was a very considerate man. On the day of which I write, our crew had done three trips, one of which had had an abrupt and near-catastrophic ending. A “fresher” was called for that night, so we were “on”, in S for Sugar. I have been wondering, recounting this, trying to remember what my reactions were during the time of an op, from the first knowledge that I was going, that night, to some unknown target, whose location and identity would not be known until briefing that afternoon, until the moment after one’s return, sitting down thankfully, tired and strained, into a chair, with a mug of coffee and rum in one hand and a cigarette in the other, for interrogation after the trip. When we would look around the room to see who was seated at the other tables with the Intelligence Officers, recounting their stories of the night’s experiences. However, although I readily confess that not a single trip went by when I was not to some extent frightened, quite often very frightened indeed, my first reaction on being told that I was among those who were on that night’s operations was one of intense excitement, of being immediately strung up to a very high pitch, reactions accelerated beyond their normal speed, like those of a sprinter on his starting blocks, alert for the sound of the pistol which will launch him on his rapid way. We did our night flying test in S for Sugar as soon as we knew we were operating that night. It was winter, but not too bad a winter until then. This particular morning was cold and cloudy with a breeze from the south-west, the odd spot of rain in the wind, a typical winter’s morning in Lincolnshire, in fact. We flew around for a while to test that everything in the aircraft was working properly, except for the bomb-release mechanism and the guns. We weren’t bombed up yet, of course, and we would test the guns over the sea once we were on our way that night. I was still quite strung up with excitement [page break] and anticipation. None of us thought or said very much about the target, it was bound to be one of the French Channel ports, the docks, or course, and they were reckoned to be a piece of cake – straight in from the sea, open the bomb doors, press the tit and then home, James. Briefing was at 1430 hours. By that time the weather wasn’t so good. The cloudbase was down, the wind was getting up and it was colder. At briefing there was ourselves and a handful of others. The target wasn’t one of the Channel ports, it was Wilhelmshaven, on the north German coast, not what we had expected, and quite a tough target. Weather prospects were moderate to fairly poor, with a front coming across which we would have to contend with, a risk of icing. It didn’t sound all that funny. But there it was. The excitement of the morning had worn off and I was beginning to feel a bit deflated when I went back to the Mess after briefing. There was nothing to be done until teatime, and takeoff was fairly late, to catch the late moon. About five hours to kill. As I thought about it like that I realised that the expression could be taken more than one way, and I didn’t like one way very much. I went back to my room with the sense of deflation sliding quickly downwards towards a feeling of depressive foreboding. It was not as though the target was the toughest one in the book, tough enough by any standards, but no long stretch of enemy territory to be crossed there and back. Not exactly, as we had thought, the reasonably easy one we had expected, but not as bad as it might have been. Or so I tried to tell myself. The foreboding grew inside me the longer I sat in my room. I was alone; Frank Coles, my room-mate, was Squadron Signals Leader and usually had things to do even when the rest of us were free. Out of the window I could see that the weather was steadily worsening, which added to my unease. I sat there, smoking, and trying to read. It was useless. I became more and more certain that this trip was the one I wasn’t coming back from, that we were going to be shot down. Once I had arrived at that realisation I found I was almost able to visualise it happening; I had already seen it happen to others nearby. But tonight it was going to happen to us, and that would be the end of me. [page break] There was nothing I could do about it; I had to go through with it, it had to be faced. The only practical thing I should now see to was to write a letter home, to my parents. The trouble was that I had very little idea what I wanted to say to them. For several reasons, I felt they hadn’t had the time to get to know very much about me, as an individual. But still, I felt I owed them this letter. So I wrote to them. It was a very short letter, I remember, but its exact contents I cannot recall. I know I started in the conventional way – “by the time you read this you will know I have been reported missing,” and so on, and I know that after I had addressed the envelope I added, “To be forwarded only in the event of my failing to return from an operation.” By the time I had stewed over this wretched little piece of writing it was teatime. There was still no sign of Frank. I was glad of some company in the Mess, although there weren’t all that many in, with only the freshers operating. So I had tea. It was usually a high tea if there were ops on. On this evening, as on many others, there were kippers, toast and tea. Surprisingly, I found I was very hungry. I think I was determined to enjoy what was going to be my last meal. So I savoured every morsel. As dusk fell I stretched myself out in front of the roaring fire in an armchair in the anteroom to await the time to go up to the Flights to get dressed for the trip. The armchair had wooden arms and sides with a green leather padded seat and back. Every time the tannoy went with some commonplace announcement that someone was wanted at his Flight or Section I would jump a little and stiffen when the W.A.A.F. said, “Attention, please, attention, please,” and then slump down again when I heard that it wasn’t ops being scrubbed. There weren’t many people in the anteroom, and as the fireplace was at one end and I was very close to it, I couldn’t really see who was in the room with me. I was concentrating on absorbing, I think, every scrap of physical comfort I could from the heat of the fire, in what I now firmly believed to be the last few dwindling hours of my life. I could hear sleet or snow spitting as it dropped down the chimney on to the fire. [page break] I was seeing all sorts of strange pictures in the glowing coals. What they were I didn’t know, faces mostly, it seemed, but whose, I couldn’t distinguish. I started as one of the Mess waiters drew the big curtains across the blacked-out windows. Seeing me in battledress and roll-necked sweater and knowing that I was “on”, he gave me a half-smile as he piled some more coal on to the fire. The heat on my legs died as he did so. “Is it still sleeting?” I asked him. “Yes, sir,” he answered quietly, “still sleeting.” Tactfully, he didn’t add “It’s a rotten night to be on ops,” or anything like that, but I knew that was what he was thinking. I nodded. He walked quietly away about his business and we left it at that. The wind was starting to get up quite a lot now. I could hear the slap of the sleet hitting the window like a wet cloth in the gusts. Surely they would scrub it? In an hour or so we were due to take off for Wilhelmshaven. I wondered what the weather was like over there, whether they were thinking that it was such a bad night that they were safe from R.A.F. raids. Then I thought about the letter. Was I being stupid? Was this all a lot of childish, hysterical nonsense, over-dramatising oneself? I still thought not; I was still convinced in my own mind. Why did one write such things? I mused. It made no difference, really, to the outcome, someone would die, someone would be bereaved, that was all there was to it. I wondered how many people I knew actually wrote them, too. I suppose one reason for writing a last letter was to say a final goodbye to someone who was dear to one, but I think also it was to prove to oneself that one was ready and spiritually prepared to leave this life, to give up all those things regarded hitherto as important and to enter a new existence, to meet again one’s friends who were already there, like going from one room of a house to another via the dark passage which we call death. There was a Sergeant pilot in ‘B’ Flight, whom I knew quite well, Norman Spray. He left a letter for his mother. He went missing on a raid the following spring and his words of parting from his mother were so memorable that they found their way on to the page of a national newspaper which I happened to read. I am sure he was an exceptional person to have written in the way he did. [page break] The minutes ticked slowly by. Hypnotised by the heat from the fire and, I suppose, subconsciously withdrawing from what I believed were my final hours, I think I must have dozed for a few minutes. The tannoy announcement jerked me back to complete wakefulness. The W.A.A.F. said, “All night flying is cancelled, repeat, all night flying is cancelled.” I immediately started to shiver uncontrollably, despite the fire’s heat. I moved my body around in the chair to try to stop the shakes, to try to hide them in case someone should see. I fidgeted around, stretched, blew my nose, then looked around the ante-room to see whether anyone was watching me. There were one or two ground staff Officers, and Teddy, Eric and Doug, the first two talking quietly over their beer, Doug reading a book, absently stroking his luxuriant ginger moustache with the back of his hand, an unconscious gesture which we all knew well. Outside, the wind moaned, the sleet was still tapping on the window, as though someone were asking quietly to be let in, perhaps like the messenger of Death itself. For not long afterwards, He would claim two of those three. I took something of a grip on myself and pressed the bell at the side of the fireplace. When the steward came I ordered a beer. I could hardly believe this was happening. He was the man who had drawn the curtains earlier. He took my order, then hesitated and said, not looking directly at me, “You’ll not be sorry, sir, about the scrub, not on a night like this?” “No, I’m not,” I said, “not on a night like this.” The shakes had just about stopped by then. I went across to Eric and had a chat and another beer. Neither of us said much about the scrub, he hadn’t been on, anyhow, being in Abey’s crew. I certainly didn’t complain about it. Eventually I went up to my room and furtively tore up the letter into small pieces. I don’t think Frank noticed anything, if he guessed what I was doing he was too tactful to mention it. Then I undressed and got into bed. I was probably going to live for another twenty-four hours. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Low-level [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] LOW-LEVEL [/underlined] By the third day, those of us who were in the know were getting a little twitchy. When you are briefed no less than three days in a row for the same target, when you are told it is to be a low-level night attack, when you learn that the whole thing is so hush-hush that only pilots and Observers are to know what the target is until after you are airborne, you only need one scrub to make you jump a bit at loud noises. After the second briefing, when there was another scrub, and the following day, when there was a third identical briefing, you could have almost cut slices of the tension out of the air with a knife. To begin with, nothing in that city had ever been bombed before. When we knew where it was to be, we looked at each other with eyebrows raised. For very good reasons, we had to go in low and make one hundred per cent certain that we were going to hit the target when the Observer pressed the bomb-release. If we were not certain, then, ‘dummy run’ and round again. No trouble in that, we were told, there were no defences worth speaking of, only a couple of light flak guns at the airport some distance away. Just avoid that, and we shouldn’t have any bother. So we were told at the briefings, all three of them. Did we believe it could possibly be true? We made ourselves believe it, I think, but it took some doing. Weren’t we used to the Channel Ports, to Kiel, to Essen and the Ruhr, where, in all conscience it was deadly enough at twenty thousand feet at night, let alone at – what was to be our bombing height? – two thousand five hundred feet, straight and level down a corridor of flares? We would have liked to believe it, certainly. It sounded so – different, so well organised. 235 aircraft, which to us was one hell of a lot, including some Manchesters and four-engined Stirlings and Halifaxes. The first wave was going to drop flares, and keep dropping them so that the whole place would be well lit up, and once [page break] they'd done that and let go some incendiaries and cookies to start the ball rolling, then the second wave, which was us, would come in and stoke the place up with high explosive, as low as the safety height, 1,000 feet per 1,000 pounds of the heaviest bomb, permitted. If there hadn’t been some Manchesters carrying 2,000 pounders, in our wave, we would have been down around 1,000 feet, I suppose. What was going through the minds of Mick, our wireless op. in S-Sugar, and Johnnie and Bill, the gunners, being completely in the dark as to what it was all about, I could only guess. But they accepted the situation stoically, and never asked one question. Except when we were clambering out of the transport at dispersal, really on our way, on the third evening, then Mick, who was a married man, said quietly to Cookie, “Is this a suicide effort, skip?” I believe he was recalling those two posthumous V.C.s our Squadron had won less then [sic] two years before, when we had lost five out of five Fairey Battles trying to stop the German advance through the Low Countries. Anyhow, Cookie shook his head. “No, Mick, it’s not a suicide effort, at least not if I can help it!” I’m afraid I couldn’t resist mischievously chipping in then, just as we were sorting ourselves out in the dusk of that early March evening under the shadow of S-Sugar’s nose in the quietness of our dispersal. “You won’t be needing your oxygen mask, though,” I said. Mick’s eyes widened. It was a bit cruel of me. “You’re kidding, Harry, aren’t you?” “No, pukka gen,” I laughed. “Oh, bloody hell,” Mick said, his Brummy accent very pronounced. Col, our Aussie Observer, came to the rescue. “Don’t let it worry yer, Mick,” he said, “it’s going to be a piece of cake. Or so they say, anyhow.” I was hoping this didn’t fall into the category of famous last words, as we climbed aboard. I found I was yawning quite a lot, while a muscle in my back was trying to do something all on its own. We took up our positions in the kite. As co-pilot, mine was in the Wimpy’s astrodome until Cookie wanted me to fly it, or needed [page break] a hand with something up front. I checked the intercom point, saw we had a flare handy in case we had to do a bit of target-finding ourselves, and I groaned inwardly when I saw the stack of nickels, as our propaganda leaflets were known, which I was going to have to shove out over northern France. I took one out of the nearest bundle and saw a cartoon of a depraved and vicious-looking S.S. man, headed, ‘Personalité de l’ordre nouveau.’ I hoped I didn’t meet him later that night in some French gaol. Faintly through my helmet I heard someone shout “Contact port!” and the engine shuddered into life with a roar, bluish flames spitting out of the exhausts. Then that tune, which remained obsessively with me throughout that night, and which, ever since, has evoked such vivid memories of it, started going through my head – ‘The last time I saw Paris’. Now we were rumbling around the perimeter track. The black shapes of the hangars, topped by their red obstruction lights, came and went. A little group of four or five W.A.A.F.s near the end of the runway waved to us as we passed them. A dazzling green light flashed three dots, our aircraft letter, at us, Cookie opened the throttles and the tail lifted. Then we were charging down the runway, the Drem lighting whipping past the wingtips as the Merlins’ roar rose to a howl at full throttle. When we had turned on to the course for Reading, our first pinpoint, Cookie checked that everyone was O.K. Then he said, calmly over the intercom, “Now I can tell you where we’re going. It’s the Renault factory in Paris and it’s a low-level do, two to three thousand feet, and there’ll be bags of flares so we can bomb spot on.” There was stunned silence, then Johnnie said coolly, “Paris? That sounds like fun.” The tension was released and we all laughed immoderately. Cookie told them about the lack of defences, how the crossing-in point had been carefully chosen at the mouth of the Somme, near Abbeville, and how we had to be very sure not to drop anything outside the target area, in case of casualties to the French population. “I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower,” Mick said. From the rear turret Bill, our Canadian gunner, drawled, “Don’t worry, at our height you’ll be able to count the bloody rivets!” [page break] The evening was clear as our home beacon slowly fell away behind us. It seemed strange to be cruising easily along at about five thousand feet; usually we climbed steadily all the way to whichever target we were bound for. There wasn’t much talk over the intercom, I think the boys were busy digesting the news about the target – and the bombing height. Then the moon came up, huge, brilliant and impersonal, a beautiful sight, away to port. Reading was, as always, easy to find, the railway station was like a dimly-lit flarepath, but it gave us a good pinpoint, however much it might have helped the Luftwaffe. We crossed the south coast dead on track and E.T.A. and headed out over the Channel. Cookie switched off the navigation lights. Shortly afterwards, Mick reported that he had switched off the I.F.F. We were on our own now. In only a few minutes it seemed, Johnnie said, “Enemy coast ahead, skipper.” I peered forward from the astrodome. The pewter colour of the Channel showed a faint line of dirty white a few miles ahead of us. A few degrees to starboard some light flak was going up, and I reported it for Col to log. “Probably Le Tréport”, I said, “they always put on a firework display for us.” Johnnie said, “I can see a big estuary dead ahead.” “O.K., Johnnie,” Col replied, “let’s know when we cross the coast. Next course one seven two magnetic, skip.” Then Johnnie said calmly, “Anyone see an exhaust almost dead ahead, same height?” I hurried forward to stand beside Cookie, and we both saw it at once, a point of orange light, straight ahead of us, and nastily at our own height. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” Cookie said, “I don’t want to be formating [sic] on a goddam 109.” “Nickels due out in five minutes, Harry,” Col told me. “O.K., Col, thanks,” I went aft again, to the flare chute. I heard Cookie say, “That fighter’s still going our way, we must be bloody close to him. I’m going to alter course a bit to try to lose him, then fly parallel to our proper track. Turning ten degrees starboard now, Col.” [page break] In the darkness of the fuselage I unlocked and extended the flare chute and started pushing the bundles of leaflets out. Once free of the aircraft the slipstream would release each bundle from its elastic band and spread them all over the countryside below. In a little while I heard Cookie say, “That bloody fighter’s still there, damn him to hell.” Johnnie said, “We’re catching him up a bit, too, skipper.” “That’s bloody impossible,” Cookie exclaimed angrily. He sounded rather exasperated. I finished the nickelling, stuffed a couple into my pockets for souvenirs, brought the flare chute in and went forward again, past Mick, who gave me a thumbs-up, and Col. Johnnie had been quite right, that glowing point of red light was definitely larger now. The countryside under the rising moon was a leaden blur, now and again shot with a vein of silver as the moonlight reflected off a river. “How long to the target, Col?” Cookie asked. “E.T.A. eighteen minutes.” The light was really getting quite a bit bigger now and we were still heading straight towards it. Suddenly, it all became clear to me. “Hey, Cookie!” I exclaimed, “that’s no fighter exhaust, it’s the bloody target!” There was a moment’s silence, then, “Jesus!” Cookie said in awe, “You could be right, Harry, you could just be right, at that. Check our course, Col, one seven two magnetic, wasn’t it?” “Yeah, that’s it skip, one seven two.” Now we could see it. It was a fire on the ground, like a huge, glowing ember alone in the darkness. I went back to the astrodome. A pinpoint of white light hung above the glow, like a star, then a second, a third, a fourth. The flares were going down, dropped by the markers, for us. Cookie called out, “O.K., fellers, this looks like it, but we want to be good and sure where we bomb.” As we flew towards the blaze Johnnie said, “I can see the Seine, the fire’s right on it.” Col said, “Part of the works is on a sort of banana-shaped island [page break] in the river, we’ve got to fly slap over it.” We could see almost a dozen flares now, brilliant, whitish-yellow, and trailing rope-like white smoke as they slowly sank towards the ground, suspended from their parachutes. I could dimly see buildings below us. Cookie was turning S-Sugar gently to come in from the south-west; all the action was now on our port beam, then on our port bow. Suddenly, away to starboard, two light flak guns pumped a few rounds of coloured tracer upwards, but there could have been no aircraft anywhere near them. “Light flak away to starboard, skip,” I said, “only a few rounds, I think they’ve gone down to the stores to get some more ammo.” “Just keep an eye on it, Harry.” I was humming the words of that song to myself, “The last time I saw Paris, I saw her in the Spring….” We were heading straight in now, flares on either side of our nose. The ground was almost invisible against the glare ahead from the fire and the lines of flares hanging in the sky. Col said, “Coming forward, skip.” A few more rounds of tracer hosed up, away to starboard, but I didn’t even bother to report it. The lack of opposition near at hand was quite uncanny; we certainly weren’t used to this sort of thing. I was searching the sky for fighters, tracer, heavy flak-bursts, but there was nothing. Just the flares, dozens of them now. We were right among them, flying straight and level down a well-lit avenue. I saw a dim shape loom up, dead ahead, growing rapidly and menacingly larger every second. “Turn port, skip, quick!” I shouted. Cookie yanked her nose round. A Hampden, bomb-doors open, hurtled past us on a reciprocal course, obviously completely disobeying briefing instructions as to the direction of the bombing run. He was almost close enough to read his identification letters. “The stupid bastard,” said Cookie, “what the hell’s he doing?” “Bomb doors open, skip,” Col said tightly. “Bomb doors open, Col!” [page break] The inferno had vanished under our nose. There was a long silence while Col directed our track up to the target. I peered down, but I could only see a jumble of city buildings; I was trying to find the Arc de Triomphe. “I’ve got that island coming up,” Col said, his excitement showing in his voice, “left, left, steady, right a bit, steady, steady – bombs gone!” I felt the rumbling jolt as we dropped our load on the Renault factory. “Bomb doors closed,” Cookie called. “Oh, bloody marvellous!” Bill almost shouted from the rear turret, “spot on, Col, you got the first one bang on the island and the rest of the stick went right across the factory, I saw them bursting!” Some distance ahead there was a sudden flash from the ground, a yellowish fire which turned redder and spread out, in a bend of the Seine. “Some poor sod’s bought it, about one o’clock, five miles,” I said. “Yeah,” said Cookie, I can see it. Don’t know what the hell he was doing up there.” I looked back at the target, now a sea of flame beneath the brilliance of the unearthly light of the flares and the moon. A sudden eruption of flame shot up from the factory as I watched. “Christ! Did you see that?” Bill called, “someone’s hit a goddam petrol tank or something.” We learned later that one of our Flight Commanders, Squadron Leader Jackson, had scored a direct hit on a large gas holder; it was that we had seen. But the other fire, the burning kite on the ground in the bend of the river, drew our eyes to it as I took over the controls from Cookie. “Poor sods,” Johnnie said quietly, “I hope they got out of it.” We droned on over northern France, heading for Abbeville and home. But the excitements of the evening were not over yet. Half way to the French coast Johnnie reported a light flashing from the ground, to starboard of our track. I looked across between the nose and the mainplane and saw it, a square of yellow light, bravely flashing [page break] di-di-di-dah, “V for Victory”. Col came up to look. “Good on yer, mate,” he said laconically. Those people down there in Beauvais were risking their lives by signalling to us their appreciation and encouragement, and I felt a strong bond had been forged between them, whoever they were, and us, in S-Sugar. We flew on towards the mouth of the Somme. Bill said he could still see the target burning, many miles behind us now, and we were riding on the crest of a wave at the obvious success of the attack. We’d never known anything like it before and we hoped we would know many like it again. And as the Renault factory burned in Paris and the V’s flashed out from Beauvais I became aware that perhaps, after many disappointments, we were now beginning to win. There was much elation as we flew homewards in “S”. We were a cheerful and buoyant crew, that night of all nights. I never dreamed that five short weeks hence I alone, of the six of us in the crew, would be the only one left alive. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] A boxful of broken china [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] A BOXFUL OF BROKEN CHINA [/underlined] It had happened to Abey’s crew already (although I was not to know this until some years later), and no doubt it had happened to others whom I had known. It was a common enough occurrence in those days, when we had simply to rely upon dead reckoning navigation with a bit of astro thrown in – there was nothing else to rely on, then – that at one time or another you would stray off track, fly unwittingly over a defended area, and get thoroughly well shot at. I use the words ‘thoroughly well’ advisedly, in the full knowledge that I shall be treading on many corns when I say that the German flak and searchlights left our own standing at the post when it came to accuracy and effectiveness. On several nights while at Binbrook, after our own air-raid sirens had sounded, we would troop out of the Mess to watch the progress of a raid on Hull and, so to speak, compare notes on the Luftwaffe’s reception with what we received, over Germany. We were all left in no doubt as to which target we would have chosen to be over, and would retire to the anteroom when the all-clear sounded, shaking our heads sadly and making rueful and derisive comments concerning the lack of effectiveness of our ack-ack gunners and searchlight crews compared to their German counterparts. There were well-known hot spots over the other side, places whose names sent a slight chill up one’s spine when they were mentioned. Places such as Essen, or anywhere in the Ruhr, if it came to that, Hamburg, Heligoland, Sylt or Kiel. The list was a long one and the toll taken by those guns of unwitting tresspassers [sic] over their territory was heavy. But no such reputation attached itself to a town called Lübeck, which we, among 2345 aircraft, were to attack one night late in March 1942. “Lübeck?” we whispered to one another at briefing that day, “Lübeck? Never heard of it.” We had it pointed out to us by our Intelligence Officer at the briefing, a bit beyond Kiel, a bit beyond Hamburg and between the two, almost on the Baltic coast. The defences, we were told, were [page break] believed to be negligible. Oh, yes? Well, we’d heard that about the Renault factory in Paris and that turned out to be true, so why shouldn’t this one be the same? Our confidence was very high after that Renault attack and this one was beginning to sound quite good. It was going to be largely a fire-raising raid. There were a lot of wooden buildings in the town, apparently. This really was beginning to sound very interesting, the chance to do to a German city what they had done on fifty-odd nights in succession to London. However, we were to carry an all-high explosive load in S for Sugar. We were warned, of course, of the proximity to our route of the defences, which we all knew about, of Kiel and Hamburg, but no-one really needed telling about those. We had experienced the Kiel defences twice before recently, once when 64 of us Wellingtons of 1 Group had put the battle-cruiser Gneisenau out of action for the rest of the war. I often wonder which of us it was that hit it, for I remember seeing some quite big explosions that night. So, as far as the trip to Lübeck was concerned our crew, at least, were in a fairly happy mood. Looking back, I am sure that on that night, while not one of the six of us would have admitted it for fear of tempting whatever fates might be looking down upon us, we were each secretly thinking that this trip, this particular, and possibly only trip we would do, was going to go some way towards approaching the proverbial ‘piece of cake’. One could describe a trip in those terms while drinking, in a post-operational flood of euphoria, one’s mug of rum-laced coffee, waiting for interrogation, bacon and egg, and then bed, but no-one ever had the temerity to voice those words about any target before take-off. Not at any price. Fate was not there to be tempted in such a careless and impertinent manner. The buoyant mood of the crew of S for Sugar was not in any way diminished when we gathered in B Flight hangar, all kitted up and ready – almost eager – to go. Mick, Johnnie and Col were standing near the crewroom door, looking amused about something, and with a fairly large cardboard carton half-hidden by their flying-booted legs. They had obviously said something to Cookie, now commissioned and doing his first op. as a P/O, for he was showing a lot of very white teeth in his amusement. [page break] “What’s going on?” I asked, puzzled. Such levity was very unusual before an op., we were invariably rather silent and very tense. Mick nodded towards the box. “Present for the Jerries, from the Sergeants’ Mess,” he said in his Brummy accent, a broad grin splitting his face. “What the hell have you got there?” I asked. “Boxful of broken china,” Col said, “we’re going to chuck it out over the target. It’s all got the R.A.F. crest on, too.” “Christ, you’re a mad lot of so-and-so’s,” I said through my laughter. Had I known it, I wasn’t going to laugh again for some time after that. Recalling it now, although I cannot obviously tell where or how the navigation went wrong, it must have done so, somewhere along the line. Perhaps the reason was simply plain fatigue which led to our being off track and flying into trouble. Fatigue which, even as young, fit men, was inevitable when one realises that while the Lübeck raid took place on 28th March, this was our third operation in four nights. It almost alarms me now, to think of it as I write. We had taken off late on the evening of the 25th, the target being Essen, never any picnic. We had bombed what we believed to be Essen, but we had seen, remarked upon among ourselves at the time, and reported at our interrogation, that many aircraft seemed to be bombing much too far west, at Duisburg, we believed. But there were those among the Squadron aircrews who laughingly insisted that we had bombed too far east, perhaps Bochum, or even Dortmund. We still didn’t think so; we believed we had been in the right place and that the main force of the attack had hit Duisburg. Apparently ‘Butch’ Harris thought so too, for after a few hours’ sleep we were awakened, fully awakened, with the news that ops were on again that night, the 26th. At briefing we learned the target. Essen again, time on target before midnight. It was a sticky trip, and we lost two of our crews, making three lost in the two nights. I have often wondered how many ex-aircrew are alive today who can say, “I was twice over Essen within twenty-four hours, and live to tell the tale.” So, after the double attack on Essen, twenty-four hours’ rest [page break] and we were off to Lübeck, the piece-of-cake target compared to Essen, the wooden town which would burn like Hell itself. Provided we got there to see it, which, in the event, we didn’t. It seemed that no sooner had we crossed the enemy coast, somewhere in Schleswig-Holstein, that a huge, bluish searchlight suddenly snapped on, and pinned us as surely as a dart hitting the bullseye. And not only one, but about a dozen followed. Then the flak started. Cookie was flying S for Sugar, I was in the astrodome. What use I was I don’t really know, except to try to see if there were any fighters about to attack us. Which was ridiculous, with all the flak they were throwing up at us. In any case, I couldn’t see a thing for the dazzling and horrifying glare of all those lights. Cookie threw the Wellington about as though it were a Spitfire. The sensation was like that of being on a high-speed roller-coaster which had gone mad. And all the time, the intense, bluish flood of light which lit up the interior of the fuselage like day and the thumping of the flak-bursts around us. We had the sky all to ourselves, and, it seemed, all the defences of northern Germany were telling us that this time we weren’t going to make it back home. I was hanging on to whatever I could to stay standing upright in the astrodome, striving to see beyond the lights, to see whether there was a gap anywhere which Cookie could aim for. One second I would be pressed down on to the floor as he pulled out of a steep dive, the next, I would be hanging in mid-air, fighting against the negative ‘g’ and clutching wildly at the geodetics as he topped a climbing turn then put S for Sugar into another screaming dive. We carried one flare, heavy and cylindrical, four of five feet long. This suddenly left its stowage with the violent manoeuvres and hit me flush in the chest, almost knocking me to the floor. I managed to grab it before it damaged the aircraft and somehow secured it again. I was, of course, frightened, but not uncontrollably so. As the shellbursts thudded around us my fear was climbing steadily, like the mercury in a thermometer on a hot day. I felt I was useless in the astrodome and longed to be doing something active. Quickly I unplugged my intercom and oxygen and clawed my way forward, to see if I could do anything to help Cookie, perhaps to take over [page break] if he was hit. Col was sitting with both hands clutching at the navigation table, looking rather sick and staring straight ahead of him, while Mick was fiddling with his radio, doing goodness knows what, I thought. I reached the cockpit, where Cookie was wrestling with the controls, his face shiny with sweat, his jaw tightly clamped. He glanced down at me as I plugged in my intercom. Dive, turn, climb, turn, dive – we were corkscrewing all over the sky, losing height all the time. Then Cookie snapped on his intercom switch. “Col, get rid of the bloody bombs.” Col came forward, his face looking ashen in the awesome light. A few seconds later I felt the bombs go with a thud. I thought, “I hope they kill somebody, destroy something down there, after what they’re doing to us.” My fear had now risen to such a pitch it amounted almost to ecstasy. “Get your chutes on everybody,” Cookie half-shouted over the intercom, “stand by to bale out.” I obeyed, gladly, and wrenched open the escape hatch near to where I was standing. As I did so, a hole appeared in the aircraft’s fabric skin at my side and I wondered how much damage we had taken. It seemed it was merely a question of a second or two before we were hit and blown to pieces or set on fire, before I and the rest of the lads were torn apart by an exploding shell. They could not go on missing us for ever. I was impatient for the order to bale out; I felt I had had enough of this experience. At the same time I felt a deep sadness that I might be going to die without having led a complete life, a life in which I had not experienced many things. I had never known the love of a woman; I had never even had a steady girl friend. Through the open escape hatch I could see the earth, a huge forest, stretching away under the moonlight. Still the lights and the flakbursts hammering at us, the smell of cordite. At that moment I came to accept that I was going to die, and at the same time, I now realise that I lost altogether, and for ever, the fear of death. Not the fear of pain, of great pain, which I still possess, but the fear of dying, of the flight into the unknown world of [page break] the hereafter. I am convinced that in those seconds, a corner of the veil was lifted and I was granted a glimpse of the boundless quietude of eternity. A great and mysterious calm flooded over me, enfolded me in a sensation of complete and deep peace. I now understand what the prayer means when it speaks of ‘the peace which passeth all understanding’. I could not then and cannot now understand it, but I am certain that at that moment, when I felt I was standing poised on the brink of death, the Almighty reached out His hand to me and I responded and touched it with mine. The memory of the incredible sensation of smoothly passing, as it were, through the fear barrier to another dimension, one of all-embracing calm, is one which has remained with me all my life. Then suddenly it was quiet. Utter quiet – and darkness. We were through it, we had got away. There was the forest below us, and a stretch of water. The Baltic? It could only be. Cookie was almost drooping over the controls now, physically spent, nearly, I knew, at the point of exhaustion. He had saved all our lives. “Take over, Harry, for Christ’s sake,” he said, and almost dropped out of the left-hand seat. I climbed quickly up into it and took the controls. Someone slammed shut the escape hatch and I inhaled deeply, very, very deeply, hardly able to believe we were still alive, still flying. We were at a mere 2,0000 feet. Cautiously but quickly I tested the controls for movement and response. Satisfactory. Almost incredible, I thought. “Col, where d’you reckon we are?” I asked. “I know where we’ve been, right enough, Harry,” he said, “slap over Kiel.” “Look, then, I think we’re a bit east or south-east of it now,” I told him, “I’ll steer three-one-five for the time being if you’ll give me a course to take us to that big point of land on the Danish North Sea Coast – you know the one I mean? Near Esbjerg?” He knew it. He gave me the course and I started to climb; the more height we had, the better for us, in case of further trouble. We had lost thirteen thousand feet in all that evasive action but we needed to get at least some of it back. I had everyone make a check around the aircraft, but apart from a few minor holes we were intact, and there were no injuries of any sort. It seemed [page break] unbelievable that we could have survived the pounding we had taken with such negligible damage. In the brilliant moonlight I saw the Danish coast creeping towards us, with the glint of the welcoming North Sea beyond. Esbjerg harbour was sliding beneath our nose; about eight ships were anchored there – and we hadn’t one single bomb left for them. I cursed aloud; they would have been sitting ducks for us. Not a shot was fired at us as I dived S for Sugar gently out to sea. On the way back I discussed with Col where he thought we had been caught at first; he reckoned we had been trapped over Flensburg and then handed on, from cone to cone of searchlights until we were firmly into the Kiel defences, like a fly in a spider’s web. I was sure his assessment was correct as we had arrived over Esbjerg exactly as we had planned. I settled down to the long, thoughtful flight home. As usual, there was almost complete silence all the way. I am certain that there was not one among us who was not offering up a silent prayer of thanks. After we had landed, switched off the engines and climbed stiffly down the ladder, we gathered in a group to congratulate Cookie. He was quite matter-of-fact about his marvellous effort. Then Mick said, in that edgy voice of his, “But listen here, Cookie, we used to have decent trips when you were a Sergeant, I hope all your trips as a P/O aren’t going to be like this one.” He little knew that two short weeks and three trips later, he, Cookie and the rest of them, apart from me, would be dead, in unknown graves. Then, inconsequentially, I remembered something. “Hey! What happened to that boxful of china?” I asked. The tension was easing. “Oh, that?” Col said, “don’t worry, Harry, we’ll drop it on the blighters on our next trip, get our own back for tonight. Anyhow,” he added, “I’ll bet it’s the first time Kiel’s been dive-bombed by a single kite!” I recall, with crystal clarity, waling down to interrogation. Col and I were together, he on my right, the others a few paces behind [page break] us. The moonlight was intensely bright and the hangars and the buildings of the Station stood out sharp and grey under its flood of cold light. There was not another soul to be seen and there was only the sound of our footsteps on the roads which led down from the hangars to the Headquarters buildings. I felt that I did not want to speak now, I did not want to break the spell of the feeling of that great “peace, from the wild heart of clamour” which was pervading my whole being, enfolding me in the purity of its white light, like that of the moon, shining down from God’s heaven on those whom he had spared that night, the night of the Lübeck raid. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] The end of Harry [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] THE END OF HARRY [/underlined] “And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!” II Samuel 18, v.33. “Crews were given a forecast of clear weather over Essen but cloud was met instead. The bombing force became scattered and suffered heavily from the Ruhr Flak defences….. 7 Wellingtons, 5 Hampdens, 1 Halifax, 1 Manchester lost ….” Martin Middlebrook and Chris Everitt, The Bomber Command War Diaries. I open my log-book to refresh my memory of that trip. The entry lies there in red ink, under my fingers, as clear as the day on which it was written, as is now my recollection of the night, which comes flooding back to me. The date. We were in M for Mother. “Operations, Cologne. Diesel engine factory attacked with 4000 lb. bomb. Moderate heavy flak and searchlights in area, mostly on west side of town. Good weather.” A pencilled note, “263 aircraft in attack; 179 Wellingtons, 44 Hampdens, 11 Manchesters, 29 Stirlings. A new record for a force to a single target. 4 Wellingtons and 1 Hampden lost.” We got off lightly that night. Sometimes, like one we did to Essen, it was ten per cent. It was the last night I ever flew as one of Cookie’s crew. We approached Bonn from the north-west at about twenty thousand feet, into the brilliant light of the moon, dead ahead. The sight was fantastic, beyond all imagining. We were just off the edge of a solid sheet of strato-cumulus at about ten thousand feet, stretching as far south and east as the eye could see, lit brilliantly white by the moon, and with its north edge, nearest us, as well-defined as the edge of an immense shelf. Out of this layer there towered [page break] a huge cumulo-nimbus, rearing up, its north side jet black, like a gigantic tombstone, to about 15 or 16 thousand feet and casting a tremendous shadow over the Rhineland. To the north of this cloud-shelf it was crystal-clear, hundreds of stars shone brightly and the Rhine writhed and gleamed like a thread of silver below us. We turned north, to track along it, the fifteen or so miles to Cologne. We could see it ahead. There were six or eight searchlight cones, with a dozen to twenty lights in each, probing, leaning, searching the sky for a victim to pin like a sliver moth in the beams. Every now and again the cones would re-form to close the inviting gaps between them. Each cone would split in half, the lights from one half leaning one way, and the other half the other way, to join the neighbouring cones, which performed the same manoeuvre, to form new cones. It was hideously fascinating, almost hypnotic, to watch. There would seem to be no way through. The dozens of red flashes of the flakbursts, seen distantly, grew larger and more menacing as we approached. Light flak was hosing up, strings of red, green, orange and white, and below everything, the fires, three or four smallish ones, growing larger all the time. Big, bright, slow flashes as cookies exploded among the flames. We were tensed up as we carried ours in. M-Mother had been specially modified to carry the two-ton bomb which protruded some way below the belly of the kite, the bomb-doors of which had been removed. A single hit from a piece of shrapnel on the cookie’s thin, exposed casing and – the mind shied away from it. So we felt naked with this inches beneath us as we edged through the searchlights, to the right of the Rhine, weaving constantly through the flak, which we could hear, thumping around us over the roar of the engines. We could see it flashing close to us on all sides. In our imaginations the cookie was growing in size; they could hardly miss it, I thought. More fires started below, a stick of bombs rippled redly across the darkened city, then another. Some incendiaries went down in a yellow splash. Or was it an aircraft going in? Still, the slow, bright flashes of the cookies going down on to Cologne. Col went forward. We could hear his harsh breathing over the intercom as he directed us into the bombing run, guiding M-Mother so that the target slid down between the wires of the bomb-sight. [page break] “Bomb gone!” The kite thumped upwards as the cookie left us on its journey of destruction. A tight turn to starboard and we were heading back the way we had come, towards the surrealist cloudscape, the enormous, abrupt shelf with the grotesque tower looming up out of it. On the way back Cookie called me up on the intercom. “Will you take over, Harry?” Someone else said, “come on, Harry, get us home.” It sounded like Mick, the wireless op. Up to now I had always got them home. I had never in my life been called “Harry” by anyone until we were crewed up at O.T.U. But from them I would have happily accepted any nickname they cared to bestow on me. So we flew on through the night, and I got them home. When we landed I found the M.O. waiting. He was usually to be seen somewhere in the background. This time, he singled me out and detached me from the weary crews who were standing around, clutching their helmets, drinking their rum-laced coffee, rubbing their faces and eyes to clear their fatigue before they were interrogated. “How did it go?” “O.K., Doc.” “Any trouble?” “The trip, or me?” “You.” “No more than usual.” “Take your pill?” “Yes.” “No effect?” “No.” “Take this one, now. Get some sleep and see me in the morning after breakfast.” “O.K., Doc.” He slapped my shoulder and trudged off. I went into interrogation with the crew, lighting another cigarette as I did so. Ewart Davies was the Int. Officer at our table. We liked him. He didn’t push us too hard for answers, he was quick, quiet, and had some idea what it was like. He knew we wanted our egg and bacon – and bed. As we walked towards the table, Johnnie, our front gunner, gave me a [page break] quizzical look. Mac, now our rear gunner since Tommy had gone into hospital, was telling him how he’d chucked some empty bottles out over the target to fox the searchlights; it had worked, too. Gunners were a special breed, and had a special bond. Next morning, I saw the Doc. He made no bones about it and came straight to the point. “Come in, sit down. Now then, your grounded until you can have a Medical Board, and as soon as you can pack you’re going on six days’ sick leave.” I felt as though someone had slammed a brick on to the back of my head. I had flown and lived with my crew for eight months. We had shared much together; more than that perhaps. We had shared everything from hilarious evenings in the “Market” to staring into the face of imminent death, where our expectation of life seemed to be measured in seconds. They had become indispensable to me, we were part of one another, our relationship uniquely deep. We knew one another’s strengths, and weaknesses. Where there was a weakness, and there were few, strength was drawn from the others. Where there was strength, we each drew from it fortitude and endurance. We were closer to each other than brothers and there was an unspoken-of bond of the deepest affection between us all which was greater in its way than anything else in the world of human experience. I was stunned to think I was being parted from them; it was something I had never imagined could possibly happen. Our lives were so much intermingled and we were so completely unified and interdependent that I couldn’t imagine life without Cookie, Col, Mick, Johnnie and Mac. In a daze, I collected some kit together, saw the Adj. about my travel warrant and found Johnnie. He, of all the crew, was closest to me. We would always sit next to one another on our sessions in the “Market”; he was very quiet, absolutely imperturbable, the personification of steadfastness and quiet courage. Somehow I got to Grimsby, then to Doncaster. On Doncaster station I was surprised to meet Ewart, who had so many times gently interrogated us. Normally so ebullient, he too was now subdued. “Posted to Northern Ireland,” he said ruefully, in his harsh Welsh [page break] voice, “Hell’s bells, I never wanted to leave 1 Group, but you’ll be back, don’t you worry.” Nearly three years later I was to meet him in Malaya. We had much to tell each other then. But now, we were both thoroughly depressed. He saw me on to my train, we shook hands, wished each other “Happy landings” and I looked back at him as the train pulled out, a slight figure, smoking the inevitable cigarette in its long holder, hunched miserably on the end of the platform. The sick leave was anything but cheerful. I was tired, moody and tense. I developed some new and unpleasant symptoms which I kept to myself. I slept fitfully, ate little, snapped at my parents and listened avidly to every news bulleting on the radio for word of bomber operations. There was a raid on Hamburg, five missing. I drank in the local pub, alone, more than I was accustomed to, lay in bed late, walked alone on the cliffs where I used to go with Ivor on his leaves from the R.A.F. Three of my friends were on the verge of call-up for aircrew and Ivor and another school friend, Connie, had already gone to Stirling squadrons which were being formed and expanded. Of these five, four were soon to die, but there was no knowing that at the time. I looked out the first three and let them eagerly pick my brains, it gave me some relief to be able to talk flying and it filled some of the dreadful blanks in the leave. I was working it all out. I would apply to go on to night fighters, to get some of my own back, or on to Coastal Command Whitleys. The morning before I was due back off leave I heard the B.B.C. news bulletin. “Last night, strong forces of Bomber Command attacked the Krupp’s works in Essen and other targets in Western Germany and Occupied France. Much damage was done and large fires were caused. From all these operations sixteen of our aircraft failed to return.” I found my hands were clenched tightly. Essen. That was an old enemy; we had been twice in and out of its massive and savage defences inside twenty-four hours not so long ago, and it had cost us three of our crews, including our Commanding Officer, in the process. To this day I cannot say or hear that evil name, Essen, without a shiver going down my spine. My parents saw me off at the station. I was glad to go back; [page break] I felt like a fish out of water away from a bomber station, it was my life. I was anxious to hear the latest gen., and to get my medical board over and done with, to know what was to become of me. The local train crawled from Doncaster to Grimsby; I found transport there to take me to Binbrook. My room-mate Johnny Stickings had crashed in January when one engine had failed on the way back from Wilhelmshaven, and he and the only other survivor had been taken to hospital. A little later, another Observer and a good friend, Eric, had gone missing with Abey, our Flight Commander, on Kiel, along with Teddy Bairstow and his crew. I had been moved in with Eric’s room-mate Frank, to keep up our morale, I supposed. I walked along the empty corridor in the Mess. Someone came out of the ante-room and passed me, a pilot whom I didn’t know. I wondered about him, who he was, who he was replacing. We said “hello”. I went up the stairs and turned left to my room. I opened the door and there was Frank, with his fresh complexion and almost Grecian good looks, putting away his laundry. “Hiya, Frank,” I said, “what’s the gen?” “Oh, hello, Harry,” he replied, looking up, “how do you feel? Did you have a good leave?” “So-so,” I said, “but what’s the gen?” He cleared his throat. “Look, Harry,” he said, “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Cookie, your crew, they went missing on Essen two nights ago.” “Oh, Christ, Frank, no,” I said, dropping on to my bed, “Oh, God, they didn’t. Is there any news of them?” He shook his head slowly. “No, I’m afraid not. They went to Hamburg the other night and got back O.K. with everybody else, then they were on Essen and they didn’t come back, I’m afraid. They were in H-Harry, there was nothing heard from them after they took off. I’m terribly sorry.” I put my head down into my hands; I was beyond speech. I heard Frank go out of the room very quietly. I thought, “I’ve let them down. I’ve failed them completely. I wasn’t with them to get them back home this one time when they needed me more than ever. I wish [page break] to God I had gone with them.” And I wondered who had taken my place. Whoever you were, I thought, I would have you heavy on my conscience for the rest of my life, I would forever walk with your ghost at my side. I knew it was the end of something unique and very wonderful in my life, as though a great light had suddenly failed. It was the end of being called “Harry”. To this day I have never permitted anyone else to call me by that name, their name for me. H-Harry was gone for ever, taking them all with it to their eternity, and their own Harry had died with it, and with them. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Silver spoon boy [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] SILVER SPOON BOY [/underlined] It’s not a part of the city I’m in very often, but a short while ago, after a lunch engagement, I found myself passing the narrow-fronted shop in the busy street which once was the cafe where I had met him for the last time. I stopped for a minute or so, oblivious to the intense, grim-faced pedestrians brushing past me, and to the traffic as it roared by. And I remembered that day more clearly, it seemed to me, for in that area, while the occupants of the shops and offices have obviously changed many times, the upper facades of the Victorian buildings have remained virtually unaltered – as have my recollections of Jack. So indeed has the mystery surrounding him, how he came to be in the R.A.F., what happened to him then, and why the man who might have answered my questions would not do so. There seems to have been no actual beginning to our friendship, it was simply one of those things which developed out of nothing. Since we were merely children at the time I suppose we must have seen each other in the road, probably each of us with a parent, perhaps eventually spoken a few casual words, but looking back now I cannot put any sort of a date upon it. I suppose friendships are like that. My memories of the house we lived in then are intermingled, woven like the coloured threads of a tapestry, with the recollections of the lads I knew at that time – of Alan, of Norman and Peter, and of Jack himself, who lived nearest to me of them all. He was an only child of quite well-to-do parents. His father was a tall, big-boned, genial man, fond of country pursuits. Jack’s mother was a pleasantly relaxed, comfortably built lady with shrewd eyes, a good amateur pianist who also had rather a fine contralto voice. Jack was very much the son of his parents, cheerful, almost jaunty in manner, generous to a degree and quite undemanding – this last perhaps because he had most things that an only child of fairly well-off parents could wish for. But although he was a boy whom I had heard described, somewhat jealously perhaps, as having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was not by any means a spoiled child. [page break] Like most other boys of my age I lived an intensely active life, physically in top gear from morning till night. But there appeared to be a shadow across Jack’s life. He was frequently absent from school, and on those occasions when I called at his house I would be told by his mother that he was in bed, unwell. These vague illnesses were, more often than not, described as ‘overgrowing his strength’, but eventually there were hints of a weak heart. He began to be excused games at school and their doctor’s car appeared fairly regularly at their front door. Yet he was never anything else but buoyant and cheerful and I never remember seeing him look or behave very differently from a normal, healthy lad. My own parents, at those times when I told them that Jack was poorly, would give each other meaning looks and would now and again make veiled and half-audible remarks about some doctors who knew when they were on to a good thing. These bouts of malaise never seemed to alter in their frequency, and it became accepted, gradually but inevitably, in the small coterie of friends I had as a young teenager, that Jack was perhaps a little less fit than the rest of us. Jack’s father, as I have mentioned,. Was interested in country life, and in particular, in shooting; he owned a beautiful and gentle-natured black Labrador, by name Prince. Jack’s uncle was a farmer near to the small country town of B - , some sixty miles away, and close to some good shooting. It was only natural that Jack’s family should spend most of their holidays there. One summer it happened that my parents were going through a period of considerable financial stringency; there had never been any luxuries in my life, but now, even the necessities were scarce. Then Jack’s father, perhaps being aware of our circumstances, and being the generous man he was, casually asked me if I would like to spend two weeks of the summer holidays with them on the farm. My parents readily and gratefully agreed; I was in the seventh heaven of delight. It was an idyllic fortnight, the car drive there and back were memorable adventures enough, to me, at any rate, without anything further. We had the run of the marginal land on which Jack’s uncle grazed his stock, the scenery was very agreeable, there was impromptu cricket to be played, drives in the country and to [page break] wonderful, deserted beaches nearby. The discordant note, as far as I was concerned at any rate, was sounded by the early-morning shoot which I attended, crouched unhappily in the butts near the sea’s edge in the half-light of a chilly dawn, while Jack’s father blazed away at the beautiful and harmless ducks and we regaled ourselves with bottles of cold tea, which were regarded by the others, at least, as something of both ritual and delicacy. A little while ago I found, at the bottom of a drawer, a photograph, startlingly clear, of Jack and me standing against a haystack during that holiday, two gawky youths grinning into the camera, with me holding Jack’s cricket bat. I was to visit the farm once again. When the war came, the little crowd of my friends and I, apart from Jack, went our various ways. It is difficult now to place the events of that time in their correct sequence, the constantly recurring pain of many recollections has tended to blur the outlines, but never to soften the impacts of those tragic times. The two events connected with Jack, I am now astonished to realise, were separated by almost three years of war – in my mind they seemed to be telescoped together, their perspective foreshortened by the passage of time. Strangely enough, my own family’s ancestors had some connections with B - , and my father, who was always much more interested in the family tree than I ever was, had paid one or two visits to the place over the years to search the parish register for reference to our name and to contemplate the inscriptions on our forebears’ tombstones in the shady churchyard on the side of the hill. My father was quite obviously under considerable stress during the war; the office where he worked was constantly understaffed as more and more men were called up into the Forces. There were also frequent Air Raid Precautions duties which he could not neglect, nor would ever have dreamed of doing so. In addition, my mother’s health was beginning to fail, and they had two sons in the forces, one of whom was engaged in duties where the chances of eventual survival were rated as about two in five. [page break] Early in 1942 my own crew, in my absence on sick leave, were reported missing on a raid over the Ruhr. I think my parents must have noticed the effect this had upon me, for they decided that on my next leave we could go to B – for a few days, staying at the hotel in the small market place, if I was agreeable. I thanked them, and thought it might be a good idea. It was late spring when we went, with blue and white quiet skies and sunlight pleasantly shining on the grey stone buildings. The hotel was almost empty; B - , while on the main road, was also between two county-towns which drew the local people like the twin poles of a magnet. Released from operational flying I embarked upon what was to be several months of drinking far more than was good for me, in an attempt to dull the agony of mind and self-recrimination I was undergoing. This must have been painfully apparent to my parents, and must have caused them considerable heartache, but – and I shall always be grateful to their memories for this – they uttered no word of reproach. How we spent our time there I cannot remember, perhaps I was in a constant alcoholic haze. The only event I can recall with any clarity was the afternoon we visited Jack’s uncle’s farm and I introduced my parents to Mr. Brown, his wife and his two daughters. I remember it as having the appearance and atmosphere of a scene in a stage play. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, gestures seemed limp and exaggerated and we sat like figures in a tableau against the backdrop of the scarcely-remembered living room of the farmhouse, small-windowed, lit by an oil-lamp, a heavy, dark red tasselled tablecloth draped over the massive dining table. Outside, I could see the shelter-belt of firs waving lazily in the breeze, hypnotic in their motion. My parents and the Brown family sat stiffly in their best clothes. What they talked about, I have no recollection; I said not more than perhaps a dozen words. I remember that one of Jack’s cousins kept looking curiously in my direction from time to time. Jack, now working in a branch of the same bank as his father, was, naturally, mentioned. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time, but someone said he would like to meet me when we went back home, before I returned to my unit. The arrangements were made. My parents and I got off the bus at its city terminus in the Haymarket. They would make their way to the railway station and so home, I would join them later, to pack my kit at the end of my leave, as that day was my last. [page break] I remember feeling released and lighter in spirit when I left them, and guilty because I did so, but the sense of freedom was pleasant after a week when it had been necessary to cork down my feelings tightly and be on my best behaviour. Yet I almost dreaded going back to my unit, a Bomber Group Headquarters, where I had been given a sinecure of a job while I waited for a medical board, for the news that I might receive of the fate of the crew of H-Harry. As I walked through the grey city streets it seemed as though I were treading the razor-edged ridge of a mountain in a high wind. We had arranged to meet at a little cafe on one of the main streets. Jack was standing outside, smartly dressed, tall, looking well and, as usual, cheerful. We shook hands. “Hello,” he said, “nice to see you again. How are you?” I lit a cigarette as we walked into the quiet cafe. “So-so,” I replied, “a lot has happened since I saw you last.” We sat at a small table, ordered coffee and biscuits. I looked at him and said, “You’ll have heard about my crew, have you?” He looked down at his cup and nodded. I thought he appeared more adult than I’d ever noticed before. “Yes,” he replied, “I had heard. How do I tell you how sorry I am?” “Don’t try,” I said, “it’s O.K., I know.” He asked, uncomfortably, “Do you think they could be prisoners?” “I don’t know; it’s nearly two months now, no-one’s heard anything?” We sat silently for a few minutes, traffic noise falling on our ears. Then he said tentatively, looking at the wings on my chest, “Are you finished flying, for good, I mean?” I shrugged. “Not as far as I know. I’ve got six months off then I’ll be having another medical board and we’ll see what they say then. I’ll probably go back on ops, I should think; after all, I’ve only done half a tour, I think I owe somebody something.” “Do you think they’ll send you back again?” he asked, surprised. “Oh, yes, they can do anything, you know,” I said, “there’s a bloke on the Squadron who’s completely flak-happy and he’s still operating.” [page break] He looked at me. “What do you mean, ‘flak-happy’?” “He’s round the bend,” I said shortly, “got the twitch, call it what you like.” Jack shook his head wonderingly. “But they let him go on flying?” “Sure they do; he’s a damn good gunner and an experienced one, too. He’s not afraid of man or beast. Of course,“ I said, “there is another side to it – he could be dead by now. It’s a while since I saw him, and anything could have happened in that time. It depends on the targets you get. It depends on a hell of a lot of things.” Jack swallowed hard. I asked him if he’d seen anything of Alan or Peter. “They’ve both volunteered for aircrew,” he said. I thought he sounded a bit wistful and I could tell what he was thinking. “Listen,” I said firmly, “when I went and stuck my neck out I didn’t do it as a dare to the rest of you, you know, there are other ways of getting yourselves into trouble. And don’t you go losing any sleep about not being fit, it’s not your fault, and when the time comes you’ll be shoved into something which will be useful to the war effort, I’ve no doubt at all.” He looked at my wings again. “I hope so,” he replied, “it’s not a great deal of fun feeling left out of things.” We finished our coffee. He insisted on paying for them, saying that he was a rich war-profiteer. He was probably getting a lot less than me, but it was no use arguing, I didn’t have a lot of time, and neither did he. I suddenly thought of that and said to him, “Anyhow, what are you doing here, skiving off during working hours? Shouldn’t you be drawing up balance sheets or something?” He looked at me a bit sheepishly, squinting into the sunshine as we stood on the pavement with the pedestrians hurrying by around us. “Oh, I asked the Manager for an hour off,” he said airily, “told him I was meeting a pilot on leave from the R.A.F. He said to tell you to drop one for him.” [page break] We shook hands. “Take care of yourself,” he said, “and I hope you’ll have some good news soon.” “Thanks, so do I.” I could hear the pessimism in my own voice. I looked at my watch. “Well, it’s been great seeing you; until next time, then, so long, Jack.” It was some time later when I learned, with feelings of complete astonishment, almost disbelief, that not only was Jack now in the R.A.F., but that he had been accepted for aircrew training. I had to read my parents’ letter several times before I could begin to grasp what they were telling me. Many months went by. I had been stationed at Tuddenham, in Suffolk, for a year, watching the almost nightly operations of, originally, the Squadron’s Stirlings, then their Lancasters; by day seeing the vast fleets of American Fortresses and Liberators forming up overhead to carry on the round-the-clock bombing of German cities. Late on a February afternoon I stepped out of the Tuddenham mail van, on which I had hitched a lift, at the aerodrome gates of Mildenhall, our parent station. The daylight was already fading and there was comparative silence; the Fortresses were back at their East Anglian bases and our Lancasters were waiting, poised to go that night. I stood watching the roadway which led up to the barrier at the guardroom, chatting to the Service Policeman on duty. I recognised J – ‘s walk when she was far away. The S.P., who knew her, wished us a good leave, saluted and turned away. J – and I had met and worked together in the Operations Room of a bomber station in east Yorkshire, around the time of the Battle of Hamburg. But after a blissful few months I had been posted to Tuddenham, then, quite amazingly, following a bleak interval without her, she had been posted to the Base Operations Room at Mildenhall, a small handful of miles away. Everyone who knew us thought that one or other of us had somehow wangled things; in point of fact it was simply unbelievably good luck. In addition, it was a considerable feather in her cap as Mildenhall was one of the key stations in Bomber Command. [page break] Consequently, we saw one another several times a week when she, of course, should have been catching up on her sleep after long and hectic hours of night duty when operations were on. Now we were going on leave together; three days at my home then three at hers. A lorry, known to all as the Liberty Wagon, took us to the nearest railway station at Shippea Hill, along with a dozen or so others, then we caught a local train to Ely. We had a meal there and took the overnight train home. We arrived before breakfast the following morning. When we had freshened up and had breakfast, my mother, who looked paler and more drawn than when I had last seen her three months before, looked at me across the table and said quietly, “I hardly know how to tell you this; it’s so awful, when you and J – have just started your leave.” I couldn’t guess what was coming, but I steeled myself for whatever it might be. “What is it, mother?” She bit her lip then said, eyes averted, “I’m afraid it’s bad news, it’s Jack, he was killed two days ago.” I felt my mouth open and close, then I reached slowly for a cigarette. “But – was he on ops? I didn’t know he’d got as far as that, I thought he was still training.” Mother nodded. “As far as I know, he was killed training, night flying.” She paused. “You will go and see his parents, won’t you? They’re terribly upset, naturally.” “Of course I’ll go,” I said, “of course I will.” I went to see them that afternoon, after I had screwed up my courage to the limit for what I knew would be an ordeal for all of us. The tension in their house was almost tangible, their grief hung on the air like a cloud. They knew little about it except that Jack was dead; he had been a Navigator on Wellingtons at an Operational Training Unit in the Midlands whose name, Husband’s Bosworth, rang a bell with me when they told me. His pilot was also from our area; [page break] they had flown into a hill near a village in Northamptonshire. His funeral was here, tomorrow, would I come? It was unthinkable, of course, that I would not. His father paced the room incessantly, never meeting my eyes, Jack’s mother, her face bloated with weeping, tore at a handkerchief in her deep armchair in the corner. Their beautiful piano, black and shining, would remain unplayed for a long time, I knew, and her voice, which I had so often heard in Schumann lieder, would be silent now. The dog lay across the hearthrug, his eyes following first one speaker, then the other; I felt he knew what had happened to his beloved young master. I met the cortege at the massive stone and iron gateway of the cemetery the following afternoon. The late winter sun was sinking and it was bitterly cold under the fading colour of an almost cloudless sky. I was the only non-relation there; as the hearse came slowly up to the gates through an avenue of trees I gave it the finest salute I had ever given to any senior officer. When I went home in the deepening dusk J – was alone in the living room, sitting in the firelight. I kissed her gently, holding her to me. That evening, as I felt I must, I went to see Jack’s parents again. They were sitting alone, quieter than before, and with the calm of resignation beginning to possess them. Prince’s tail thumped the hearthrug twice as I walked into the room, his eyebrows lifted and fell as he looked at me, his chin across his folded paws. Jack’s photograph smiled cheerfully down from the mantelpiece. I told them I had come to say au revoir. His father thanked me for being there that afternoon, then, “Do you think you could possibly do something for us?” “If I can, of course,” I said, glad to be moving on to practicalities. “You know Jack was stationed at Husband’s Bosworth when – it happened, don’t you?” “I didn’t know at the time,” I said, a bit uncomfortably, thinking that I should have done. We had seldom written to one another; one didn’t have much time nor the mental quietude in Bomber Command to do very much in the way of letter-writing, except to one’s girlfriend. He went on. [page break] “Do you know anyone there? In your job I thought perhaps you might know someone who could tell us just what happened. We know so little, just what his C.O.’s letter told us, not very much at all. But if you could, perhaps, speak to someone?” Jack’s mother dabbed at her eyes. “Actually, I do know someone there, as it happens,” I said, “a chap I worked with at Tuddenham until recently was posted there as Adjutant; I’m sure he’ll be able to tell me something.” He brightened slightly. “That’s good,” he said, “really quite a coincidence. What sort of chap is he? You really think he would be able to help?” I described George, avuncular, knowledgeable, but on occasions fiery and quite outspoken. “I’ll phone him as soon as I can after I get back to Tuddenham, and get in touch with you.” “I’ll be glad to pay any expense involved, if there is any,” he said, “and don’t get yourself into trouble on our account, will you? But – we would like to know something, of course.” “Don’t worry about that,” I told him, “there’ll be no expense, and no trouble at all.” I said goodbye to them. I was not to know that I would never see them again. The first day back from leave I rang George quite confidently. He sounded his usual self, brisk, affable as ever, but perhaps slightly fussed. Had he trodden on a few toes already, I wondered? After the conventional greetings were over, I came to the point. “George, I’ll tell you why I’m ringing you – it’s about a crash you had a week or so ago, the pilot was Sergeant - - . Well, I was a friend of the Navigator. I’ve just come back from his funeral at home and his parents were wondering If you could give them, through me, any further details of how it happened.” There was an abrupt and surprising change in his manner. “Is that why you rang me? To ask me that? I can’t tell them any more than was in the letter to them. I’m surprised at them asking you to do this.” “O.K., then, George,” I said calmly, “if that’s how it is then I’m very sorry to have bothered you.” [page break] I rang off. I was extremely puzzled and quite troubled by his unexpected reaction; we had always been, and still are, good friends and our working relationship was never anything less than co-operative and mutually accommodating. That evening I wrote to Jack’s father, telling him briefly that I had been unable to obtain any further facts about the crash. He did not reply. For various reasons, and to my lasting shame, I did not visit the graves of Jack, and of Peter, Connie and Roly, another classmate, all Bomber Command aircrew casualties, for several years. But after having stood in that busy street, gazing at what had been the cafe, and remembering Jack and I as we had been then, both of us in the prime of youth, an inner compulsion drove me to do so. I could find the graves of all of those who were buried there except one – Jack. I visited and revisited the place where I thought I had stood at his funeral, searching the tombstones round about for his name, but to no avail. I had heard that his parents had moved to B – on Mr. Henderson’s retirement and I was almost on the point of becoming convinced that they had had Jack re-interred there. Eventually, after several fruitless searches, and as a last resort, I decided to go to the cemetery office to make enquiries. In a few minutes I had found it, about a hundred yards away from the place where I had been looking. There was a solid, low grey headstone with a substantial curb. There was the name, Flying Officer John Henderson, ‘killed in a flying accident 3rd February 1945.’ So very near to the end of the war, I thought sadly. The lettering was now so faded as to be almost illegible. Underneath his name were those of both his parents. The grave itself was completely bare, not a flower, not a blade of grass, not even a weed, only the cold, wet earth under the leaden sky. I stood for several minutes in the silence, remembering them, but especially remembering Jack, incidents from our friendship returning vividly to mind. And I wondered about many things, the questions now long unanswered. Was he really the semi-invalid he had always been made out to be? How then had he passed his aircrew medical? Why did they crash that night? Had he – God forbid – made a navigational [page break] error? Why had George been so brusque and annoyed at my question? There were no answers to be found in the rustling of the cold breeze among the fallen, russet leaves, and I thought that there never would be, that I would never know. But worse, I wondered would there be anyone left to remember Jack when I was no longer able to remember, or would his name disappear completely, both from his gravestone and from the memories of everyone who might have known him on earth? I took the Remembrance Day poppy out of my lapel and pressed it into the sodden, bare earth below his name. Then on that grey afternoon I spoke a few words to him, very quietly, but knowing that somewhere, he would hear. And as the winter dusk was falling I turned away. . . . . . . . . . . . . I did not expect that I should be writing a sequel to this, but a sequel there is, one long-delayed… Obviously, I have thought very many times about Jack since his fatal crash and I have visited his grave very many times also. But rarely, if ever, have I dreamed about him. Until a few nights ago, that is, more than fifty-one years since he was killed. It was a dream which was so vivid and so poignant – that realisation was with me even as I was dreaming it – that it has stayed with me, haunted me and disturbed me ever since the early morning when, in this heartbreaking dream, I recognised Jack, from a great distance, walking towards me on a riverside path. There were iron railings on my right, a river was nearby, at my left hand, the path curving slightly from my left to the right. For some reason I was quite sure I was on the riverside at Stratford-upon-Avon. I have been there twice, once during the war, with Connie and Shep, when we were at Moreton-in-the-Marsh together, and once on a brief visit when I was on holiday at Malvern. Yes, this was Stratford, I was positive. And I knew it was Jack approaching, I could distinguish his [page break] features, his walk, his tall, upright figure. He was as I never saw him in life, in uniform, his peaked cap at a slight angle on his head, the Navigator’s half-wing above his breast pocket. There he was, coming briskly towards me, smiling, the Jack I knew of old. And he was with a girl. Her features I could not distinguish as she approached me with him; they were walking close together, arm in arm. Even in my dream I could feel a lump in my throat as I watched them. They stopped in front of me. I heard Jack say, “This is Janet”, and I could see now that she was smiling, a radiant, pure smile, full of utter delight and joy. They turned together and walked slowly in the direction that I was going. It had turned slightly misty. I was fascinated by Jack’s girl Janet, wondering what sort of person she was; I could not take my eyes off her. She wore a small, round hat of the pillbox type, and a brownish, quite long, heavy coat. Her lips were full, I saw, and pink; here eyes shone with a wonderful radiance, such as I have rarely seen. I had the overwhelming sensation of their happiness with one another. Then the girl, Janet, looked at me directly, her arm still through Jack’s, and gave me her wonderful smile, so full of bliss. “We are going to be married,” she said, “next year.” At that moment she looked as lovely as anyone I have ever seen. But immediately, as though I had been submerged by a wave from the sea, I felt an immense sorrow engulf me, because, as I awoke slowly, with the vision of that lovely, loving couple in my brain, even in my dream I knew that their marriage could never, never be. For Jack was to die; Jack was dead. It is a dream I shall have in my mind until the day of my own death, until Jack and I meet once more and – God alone knows whether there ever was a girl named Janet – perhaps I might meet that girl who I dreamed was going to marry my oldest and closest friend, The Silver Spoon Boy, the boy who gave everything he ever possessed. ‘Too full already is the grave, Of fellows who were young and brave, And died because they were.’ . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Intermezzo [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] INTERMEZZO [/underlined] “Sign here? And here? That it? O.K., Sergeant. Now, what have I signed for? Oh, I see, one brand-new Wimpy in mint condition with full certificate of airworthiness and rarin’ to go. HD 966, isn’t it? Where do I find her? That it, over there by the dispersal hut? O.K., thanks. Probably be back tomorrow for another. Cheerio.” “Here we are, on this beautiful morning. HD 966. Plenty of juice, Corporal? Well, I’m not going as far as John o’ Groats, thanks, just to Moreton-in-the-Marsh. Pitot head cover off? Fine.” “There’s only me. Up the ladder. God, it’s hot in here. Haul the ladder up, stow it next to the bomb-sight. Slam the escape-hatch door. Stamp it down firmly, to be sure. Hell, the heat. Slide open the windows, that’s better. Shove my chute into the stowage. Into the driver’s seat, check brakes on. Push and pull the controls about to test for full movement. Shove the rudder to and fro with my feet. All free. Fine. Check the petrol gauges. Enough.” “Undercart lever down and locked. Flaps neutral. Bomb doors closed. Switch on the undercart lights. There we are, three greens. Undercart warning horn? God, that’s loud. Never mind. Main petrol cock on, balance cock down.” “Now. Throttles closed, boost override normal, mixture rich, pitch levers fully fine, superchargers medium. O.K. So – ignition on, open throttle an inch. There we are. Now, yell out of the window. Contact port! Press the starter button. That’s it, got her! Hell! What a row, wish I’d brought my helmet after all. Shut the window. No, damn, not yet. Contact starboard! Press the button. There she goes. Come on, come on. Now shut the window. It’s a bit cooler now, anyhow.” “Oil pressure O.K., all temperatures O.K. So, what’re you waiting for? Run them up. Port engine first. What a bloody noise. Pitch controls O.K., revs down and up again. Give her plus four boost. This is going to be damn noisy. Here goes. Throttle back, boost override in. Now for it. Open right up. Hell, it’s awful. Plus [page break] nine and threequarters. Fair enough. Throttle back smoothly. Not too quick. Override out. Now the starboard engine. Stick my fingers in that ear. Pitch control O.K. Plus four boost. Mag drop? ……” “All O.K., then. Brake pressure? Right up. Try each wheel. O.K. So it should be, too, brand new kite. There goes the Anson with those A.T.A. girls. God, shook me when that blonde brought the Halifax in. Cool as you please, all five foot nothing of her. Damn good landing, too. Smashing blonde, like to see her again. Like to – hey, steady on! Back to business. Test the flaps. Right down. Now up again. Fine. Where’s he taken the starter trolley? Oh. Over there, well away from me. See they haven’t got that bloody Whitley moved yet. Bit off-putting, that, finding a pranged Whitley over a hump in the runway, just after you’ve landed. Plenty of room, though, at least it’s on the grass. Well, come on, let’s get back to Moreton, might have half a can if there’s no more flying today.” “Chocks away. Wave hands across each other where the erk can see. There he goes with the port chock. Now the starboard. Thumbs up from him. And from me. Little bit of throttle, hold the yoke well back. Here we go. Taxy out over the grass. Bumpy. Wish they’d get another runway put in, too. The one they have got isn’t even into the prevailing wind. Using it today, though, I see. Not much wind at all, but the Anson used it. Lovely sunny day. Swing the nose about a bit, never know what’s ahead. Would hate to prang a Spit or something. What’s that Oxford doing? Coming in. Trundle up to the end of the runway, opposite the line of trees. Bit off-putting they are, too, when you’re approaching to land. Park, crosswind. Brakes on. Relax and watch him come in. Wheels down, crosswind, losing height. Bit bumpy over the trees, of course. Flaps down, now he’s turning in. Nice steady approach. Oh, Christ, here’s a Spit coming in next, what a bind. I’ll have to wait a bit. Yes, he’s put his undercart down. Damn!” ”Float her down, boy, float her down. Now, watch it. Not bad, not bad at all. Over-correcting a bit on his rudder on the runway. Never mind, nice landing, though. Open up my throttles to clear the plugs of oil. Yoke hard back. What a row. There we are, sounds [page break] O.K. Now throttle back and wait for the Spit. Quick check round the dials again. Set the altimeter to zero. Gyro to zero and leave it caged. Where is he? Oh, here he comes, hellish fast. God! That was a split-arse turn and no mistake. Full flap. Well, he is heading in approximately the right direction. Whoof! He’s down. A bit wheel-y, but never mind, he’s in one piece and still rolling. Now beat it, chum, and let a real kite take off. No-one else in the circuit? Thank bloody goodness. Wait a tick, where’s my friend in that Spit? Oh, there he goes, taxying to the Watch Office. Fighter boys – I don’t know!” Here we go then. Flap fifteen degrees. Brakes off. Port throttle to turn on to the runway. Hope the far end’s clear. Suppose they would poop off a red if it wasn’t. Nice and central Brakes on. Uncage gyro on 0. Now hold your hat. Open both throttles steadily against the brakes. What a bloody row. Yoke back, now let it go to central. Not too far, not too far. More throttle. Hold the brakes on. She’s shuddering like hell, wants to jump off the runway. Lift the tail just a bit more. Now. Full throttle and brakes off. Here we go – and how! We’re really rolling. Shove those throttles forward against the stops. Touch of rudder against the swing. Fine. Hold it there.” “Feels great. Love take-offs, tremendous sense of power. Hellish noise, too. Airspeed? 50. Nice and straight, shove the tail well up, a real 3 Group takeoff. Touch of rudder again. 65. Over the hump. Gi-doying! Nearly airborne then! Plus nine and threequarters on both, 3000 revs. Wizard. 75. Runway clear and pouring back underneath. There’s that Whitley. Plenty of room. 80. Almost ready. Still bags of room. Come on, come on. Ease back a bit. Trying hard to go, almost a bounce then. Now? Now she’s off. Airborne. Keep her straight, wheels up. Pick your field in case an engine cuts. Right, got one. Lights out as the wheels come up. Then red, red, red. All up and locked. Throttle back to climbing boost. Revs back to 2600. Airspeed 120. Overrides out. 200 feet. Gyro still on 0. Take half the flap off. Watch it, now. 300 feet. All flap off. Slight sink there, feels horrible. Keep climbing. Everything sounds good. Quick look around the panel. All O.K. [page break] “1000 feet. Level off. Cruising boost and revs. Select weak mixture on both. Rate 2 turn to port. There’s the Oxford just taking off. Spit’s parked at the Watch Office, next to the Hali. The Hali – God! That girl was a smasher. Cirencester just below the port wing. Now the railway. And there’s the Fosse Way. Follow it home, no bother. The Romans knew how to build roads. Excuse me, Centurion, but there’s an enemy chariot on your tail! Weave left, Lucius Quintus – now! Weather’s wizard, just a few puffs of cloud at 1500 feet. No hurry. Throttle back to economical cruising boost and revs. Try the trimmers. Feet off the rudder. Nice, keeps straight. Feet on again. Hands off. Bit nose heavy. Just a touch on the trimmer. Try again. There we are, perfect, no wing-drop, no pitching, no yawing. Flies herself and purrs like a sewing machine, she’s a beaut. Check the magnetic compass. Heading 037. Cage the gyro, set to 037, uncage. Check around the panel. Zero boost, 1850 revs, airspeed 150, altimeter 1000 feet, temps. and pressures O.K. and steady. Fosse Way sliding along under the port wing. Vis thirty to forty miles, 2/10 cumulus at 1500 feet. God’s in his heaven and all that.” “What a view, all greens and hazy blues. Fields, trees, hedges, pale little villages. Lovely country. Must really explore it soon. Good as being on leave. I’m lucky. Bit lonely in these kites all on your own, though. Used to five other bods nattering. Nearly four months now. I wonder if there’s any news yet. Write to the Squadron tonight, see if there’s anything come through from the Red Cross.” “Kite at 10 o’clock, slightly higher. Twin. Oxford, heading for Little Rissington, I’ll bet. Wonder who’ll take this Wimpy over. Couple of weeks and it could be bombing Tobruk or somewhere. Long stooge out there. Portreath – Gib – Malta – Canal Zone. Blow their luck. Wonder what the chop rate is out there. Better than we had, I’ll bet. Spit. at nine o’clock, high, heading East. Going like a bat out of hell. Clipped-wing job. Boy! Is he pouring on the coal. Wonder if he’s a P.R.U. type. Climbing hard, too. There he goes. Berlin by lunchtime at 40 thousand plus, I’ll bet. Nothing to touch him. Take his pictures, stuff the nose down and come home with 450 on the clock. Not a thing near him. That’s the life.” [page break] “Stow-on-the-Wold coming up below. Must go back to that pub some time. Wonder if I’ll hear anything from the police. No rear light. Jam had no front light. Both tight as newts. Tried to tell the flattie we were a tandem which had just come apart, wouldn’t believe us. Hell, couldn’t even pronounce it, I called it a damned ‘un, could hardly talk for laughing. We’d had a few that night! Blasted nuisance, though, expect we’ll be fined ten bob each. Shan’t go to court, though, write them a pitiful letter. Got no ident letters yet, how about doing a beat-up at nought feet? Oh, hell, can’t be bothered. Too hot, anyhow, slide the window open a bit more. Wouldn’t want to drop off to sleep like I did that night at Moose Jaw. Shaky do, that. Never mind, still alive and kicking.” “Should write home tonight, really. Can’t be bothered to do that, either. Write to Betty? Oh, Christ, what’s the use? She’s hooked up to that other bloke, whoever he is. Don’t even know his name. Hell and damnation, why didn’t I - ? What’s the bloody use of moaning about it? But, God, she was nice. Wizard girl. There were angels dining at the Ritz - . Oh, for God’s sake, stop it. She’s gone, she’s gone, you’ve bloody had it, you missed your chance. Just stop thinking about her. Forget it. Oh, hell, why didn’t - ? Christ! Forget it, can’t you? Think of something else. Yes. Yes. What? I know. Let’s have a song.” “Ops in a Wimpy, ops in a Wimpy, Who’ll come on ops in a Wimpy with me? And the rear gunner laughed as they pranged it on the hangar roof, Who’ll come on ops in a Wimpy with me?” “There we are, Moreton dead ahead. Long runway end on to me. Two kites on the circuit. God, I’m ready for a bite of lunch. Wonder what it is? I’ll do this right, otherwise the Boss will chew me off.” “Into wind over the runway in use. Good look-see at the Signals Area, then a copybook circuit. Here we go. Signal for transport by pushing the revs up and down again. Makes a nice howl, hear it for miles. Oh, hell, I expect I’ll get chewed off for that, though.” [page break] Blast him, why does he hate my guts? Those other two Wimpies have gone, must have landed. Yes, can see one taxying. Reduce airspeed to 140. No signals out except the landing-T and that’s O.K. Crosswind leg. There’s the van leaving the Flight Office, good-oh, he’s heard it. Turn port, downwind. Throttle back to 120. 120 it is. Lock off, select wheels down. Red lights out. Green, green, green. Down and locked. Ready for crosswind.” “Rate 1 1/2 turn to port, now. Nice. Select flap 15 degrees. Stop. Lever to neutral. Push a bit to compensate for the flap. Now the approach. Full flap. Shove the nose down. Rate 1 1/2 turn to port again. Watch the airspeed. Back to 95. Pitch fully fine. The van’s heading for dispersal down there. Keep the speed at 95. Dead in line with the runway, height just nice. Carry on, carry on. Losing height nicely, speed dead on 95. Trees rushing by. Lower and lower. Throttle right back. Push the nose down a bit more. Ten feet, now level off. Lovely, sinking down beautifully. Airspeed falling off as the runway comes up. Clunk! We’re down, what a beaut. Have we landed, my good man? I didn’t feel a bloody thing. Keep straight with the rudder. No brake, plenty of room. Slowing down now. Flaps up. Turn right at the peri. track. There we are.” “Van’s waiting for me. Good-oh. Follow it round to whichever dispersal. Go on, then, after you, I’m waiting. That’s better. Get well ahead, where I can see you. That’s it. Weave the nose a bit. Not too rough with the throttles. Bit of brake now. O.K., I see which dispersal. Bit more brake. Slow right down. Turn into dispersal and swing round into wind in one go, with the starboard throttle. Flashy! Throttle back, straighten her up. There’s an erk with the chocks. Roll to a stop. Brakes on and locked. Pull up the cut-outs to stop the engines. That’s it, piece of cake.” “Ain’t it gone quiet? Out of the seat. Where’s my chute? Yank open the escape hatch and shove the ladder down. Just nice time for lunch. Wotcher, Loopy, thanks for the lift. Did you witness my absolutely superb landing? No? Well, you missed a treat. How’s the Boss? What was that? Do what to him? Not me, old boy, it’s [page break] a Court Martial offence, and besides, it’s immoral. Come on, let’s go for lunch. What about the White Hart tonight? By the way, you missed a treat at Kemble this morning. I was just standing there, waiting until this kite was ready, when a Hali. comes into the circuit. Lovely approach and landing, taxies in, stops, and what do you think, out steps this A.T.A. pilot. Wait a minute, wait a minute, this one was a dame, and a wizard blonde at that. Now just let me describe her to you in some detail, you lascivious, drooling Australian, while I permit you to drive me to the Mess. Well, now, she was about five foot six, and her figure…..” . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Overshoot [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] OVERSHOOT [/underlined] In that glorious summer they had decided that I could do some non-operational flying, so they posted me away from Group Headquarters at Bawtry Hall, where I’d been playing about with a bit of admin. work, a lot of cricket, and, between drinking sessions, flirting with a couple of W.A.A.F.s. Bawtry had been very pleasant but it was distinctly stuffy after the Squadron. I was the only recently operational aircrew there and I always had the feeling that they were waiting uneasily and suspiciously for me to start swinging from the chandelier, or to come rushing up to someone very senior and snip his tie off at the knot. What really made it for me was the brief moment when I happened to look across the anteroom one day – where Group Captains and other wingless wonders were two a penny, with bags of fruit salad to be seen on their chests, though – I looked across and saw him standing there, quite quietly. It was “Babe” Learoyd, and he had only one medal ribbon, that of the Victoria Cross. It was a bit strange when I found myself back on a Wellington Station again, even more so because this one, an O.T.U. at Moreton-in-the-Marsh, was set in lovely pastoral countryside, a complete contrast to my Squadron’s base on top of the Lincolnshire Wolds. As I was back on flying, I decided that instead of getting drunk every night I’d better cut it down a bit, to every other night, if I wanted to survive, of course, which was debatable. I suppose that was oversimplifying it, because if I misjudged something and pranged, I would possibly write myself off, but I might take a few quite innocent people with me, which wasn’t by any means O.K. However, I needed something to knock me senseless at night, because I was still getting nightmares. In the end, I would usually fight myself awake, distressed and sweating, and lie wide-eyed, until the summer dawn at last came palely to my window and I heard the distant whistle of the first train as it wound its way through the trees and by the little brooks down to Adlestrop and Oxford. [page break] That train and the railway station in the small market town gradually became to me symbols of ordinary, carefree life, of freedom and safety from sudden death, symbols I was desperate to hang on to. Eventually, the station became so central and vital a part of these imaginings that I lived in considerable and constant anxiety lest one of our aircraft while using the short runway which pointed directly towards it, should crash on to it and destroy my only link with the sanity of the outside world. I wasn’t posted to the actual O.T.U. in Moreton, but to No. 1446 Ferry Flight. Basically, the idea was that we picked up brand-new Wimpies from Kemble, about half an hour’s flying time away, flew them solo, following the Fosse Way, back to Moreton, then handed them over to pupil crews from the O.T.U. who would do one or two cross-countries in them and then fly them out to the Middle East, in hops, of course, to reinforce the Squadrons in the Western Desert. Sometimes they were straight bombers, nevertheless looking strange in their sand-coloured camouflage, sometimes “T.B.s”, torpedo-bombers, with the front turret area faired in by fabric and the torpedo firing-button on the control yoke, and sometimes they were pure white Mark VIII “sticklebacks”, bristling with A.S.V. radar aerials, low-level radar altimeters and the like. One morning I had collected a T.B. from Kemble and was bringing it in to Moreton. No bother at all. Except on my approach to land I seemed to be coming in a bit steeply, I thought. I checked the airspeed, 95, correct. I checked the flap-setting – yes, I had full flap on, and wheels down. Looked at the A.S.I. again. Still 95. But, hell, I thought suddenly, it’s graduated in knots. Frantic mental calculations to convert knots to m.p.h. Ease back on the control column a bit. Multiply by five, divide by six, I concluded. Say, 80. So, bring the speed back to 80 indicated. I should have checked before take-off, of course. After all, this was a T.B., a nautical job. Looks right now, I thought, except that I’m floating a bit while the airspeed drops off, using a bit more runway to get her in. No panic, though. I got her down quite nicely and didn’t go anywhere near the far hedge. Quite a good landing, too, though I says it as shouldn’t. [page break] But, just my luck, Squadron Leader --- had noticed it. “That’s not a bloody Spit you just brought in, you know, Junior,” was his greeting as I walked into the Flight Office. I sighed inwardly. Here we go again, I thought. “No, sir.” What the hell were you doing? Trying to land at Little Rissington?” “Just came in a bit fast, sir, that’s all.” “You should’ve gone round again, done an overshoot.” “Well, sir, I don’t much like overshoots on Wimpies.” He grunted. “Don’t like overshoots,” he said acidly, “Are you a competent pilot, or not?” “Yes, sir, I am, but I don’t like taking unnecessary risks.” To tell the truth, I hated overshoots completely. You had to shove on full throttle when you decided you weren’t going to make it, and with the full flap you already had on, the nose tried to come up and stall you at fifty feet. So you pushed the nose down with all your strength and some frantic adjustment of the elevator trimmer – three hands would have been useful about then – to pick up some speed before you even thought of climbing away to have another shot at a landing. Then, while keeping straight you had to milk off seventy degrees of flap a little at a time – and she wasn’t at all fond of that process. She wanted to give up the whole idea and just sit down hard into a field, to sink wearily on to the deck and spread herself, and you, around the county. You had to be damn careful not to take off too much flap in too much of a hurry when those big trees came nearer, or when those hills started to look rather adjacent. At night, of course, you couldn’t see them at all, but you knew they were lurking somewhere handy. If you were in a hurry about taking the flap off, then, you went down like a grand piano from a fourth-storey window, and you’d had it. No, overshoots were definitely not for me, thank you very much, not unless they were absolutely essential, and I knew that I knew, to the foot, when they were. I’d never been wrong yet. “Well, watch it in future, Junior, and don’t set the pupils a bad example.” [page break] I could quite understand why Loopy had been within an ace of punching him in the face, a few days previously. It wasn’t only the things he said, it was the way in which he said them. Before I could reply he went on, “You might be interested to know that we’ve got the S.I.O.’s son taking a kite out to Gib. soon, he’s done his circuits and bumps and he’s crewed up. His father had a word with me at lunchtime yesterday.” As I only knew the Senior Intelligence Officer vaguely by sight I merely murmured something non-commital [sic] and asked if there was anything else. I was told, reluctantly, no, there wasn’t, so I saluted and drifted out to have a word or two with Dim and Loopy. A few days later there was a gap in the flow of kites from Kemble, and as Loopy and I had done all the compass and loop-swinging on those we’d recently collected I took myself off to the Intelligence Library. I was standing at one of the high, sloping library desks, reading one of the magazines, when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone come in and stand at a desk about six feet to my left. I took no notice of him but carried on reading Tee Emm or whatever it was. When I had finished, I turned to go – and recognised him. “Christ! It’s Connie, isn’t it?” I exclaimed. I had last seen him in the Sixth Form at school, five years ago. Five thousand years ago. “Yoicks!” he said, greeting me by the nickname I’d almost forgotten. Connie wasn’t his real name, either, but he’d always been called that at school because, it was said, he had a sister of that name who was more beautiful than the moon and all the stars. A shame I never met her. We shook hands vigorously. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked. “Been posted to something called a Ferry Flight,” he replied. “Bloody marvellous! I’m in that, too; come into the madhouse!” “Well, blow me,” Connie said, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?” We celebrated that night, in traditional fashion, with several pints apiece. It was great to have him with me, he was jaunty, carefree, entertaining and likeable. I had noticed, of course, that he had the ribbon of the D.F.M. One day, as we walked through some nearby town on a half-day off, I noticed too that his battledress was ripped, [page break] just below his ribs, on one side. “By the way,” I said, “do you know you’ve torn your battledress?” I pointed to the damage. He laughed heartily. “That’s my line-shoot, I’m not repairing that, Yoicks – got that over Turin from a cannon-shell. Never felt a thing!” It was about this time that I discovered the poems of A.E. Housman and, on free afternoons, I would lie on the unkempt lawn of the little cottage where I had my room, out beyond the Four Shires Stone, and would read his poems long into the drowsy, high-summer afternoons, their words tinged with the sadness that I had learned. And as I lay there, the supple, vivid wasps would tunnel and plunder the ripe plums I had picked off the little tree under whose shade I rested. There was constantly to be heard, with the persistence of a Purcell ground, the noise of the Wellingtons on the circuit, two miles away, over the lush green Gloucestershire landscape, hazy with heat, the sound rising and falling on the consciousness like the breathing of some sleeping giant. At length I would pick myself up, stiffly, feeling the skin of my face taut with the sun, and put the poetry away. Then in the incipient twilight I would stroll down the road towards the sinking sun to meet Connie, to have dinner in the Mess and to slip easily into the comfortable routine of an evening’s drinking with him, and perhaps with Dim, Loopy, Pants or Mervyn, in the anteroom, or down at the White Hart in the village. I would see Connie’s dark hair fall across his forehead, his heavy black brows lift and lower expressively over his mischievous eyes as he told some humorous story of his days and nights on his Squadron at Downham Market. Sometimes, when we were flush, he and I would catch a train to one of the neighbouring market towns, to embark on an evening’s pub crawl, laughing at each other and at ourselves as the beer took effect, and as the darkness slowly fell, un-noticed; each of us drowning our private memories. Once, a bunch of O.T.U. pupil crews came into a pub where we were sitting – was it in Evesham? – obviously on an end-of-course party before they went their various ways to join their bomber Squadrons. They joked a lot, sang a bit and indulged in some mild, laughing horseplay. Connie, who like me had been watching them, suddenly [page break] grew solemn. “Poor sods,” he said gravely, “they don’t know what’s coming to them, do they, Yoicks?” Poor Connie, too. He himself had not long to go. Just over a year later he was killed, at the controls of his Stirling, where, had he known that he must die, he would have wished to be, I think. Eventually, wherever I had been, I would fall into bed, my brain dulled by the alcohol, but neverthless [sic] conscious enough to dread what the night might hold for me, waiting for the nightmares to come again. There was one kite in the circuit, wheels down, as I strolled towards the Mess for dinner as twilight was beginning to fall. It was yet another lovely evening, and what with the idyllic existence and Connie’s new-found friendship, I was feeling that as far as I was concerned, I could stay here until further notice, despite Squadron Leader --- and his unpleasant little ways. I was quite near to the Four Shires Stone when I heard the sudden howl as the kite’s engines were opened up to full throttle. Should we go to the White Hart with Loopy and Dim tonight, I wondered, or have a bit of a session in the Mess? Just then there was a loud thump and a silence, another thump, and I saw a telltale column of black smoke erupting over the hedges and treetops ahead and slightly to my left, a mile or so away, I guessed. The kite had overshot and gone in. “Jesus!” I said, and broke into a run down the road. I was panting and sweating along when suddenly the Flight van screeched to a halt beside me, going the same way. Squadron Leader --- was driving. “Get in, Junior,” he yelled, “We’ve got to get them out!” He let in the clutch and drove fiercely down the empty road. The pillar of smoke grew bigger as we got nearer. Then I saw the gap in the hedge and the smashed tree where it had hit. At the far edge of the field the shattered Wimpy burned savagely. We skidded to a stop and flung our doors open. As I ran through the gap in the hedge and across the field, --- raced around the front of the van to join me. I could feel the heat on the surface of my eyes from [page break] the wall of leaping flame. The kite’s geodetics were like smashed and twisted bones stripped of their flesh. I ran on, over the cratered and churned earth. There was a reek of petrol, of ploughed earth, and of something else, sweetish, sickly, burned. An engine lay to one side, the prop grotesquely curled back. Suddenly there was a ‘whumph!’ and I found myself on the ground. A petrol tank had exploded. I got up again and went towards the inferno that was raging under the smoke-pall. I splashed through a pool of something. I could hear Squadron Leader --- cursing somewhere nearby; I was gasping and sobbing for breath.. [sic] Then the oxygen bottles started to explode and bits of metal went screaming viciously past me. I tripped and fell heavily. And I saw I had fallen over something smoothly cylindrical, like an oversize sausage, bright brown, and with a smouldering flying boot at the end of it. A few feet away lay an untidy, horribly incomplete bundle of something in what looked like Air Force blue, lying terribly still under the stinking glare. I was retching, on all fours, unable to move further. I dimly heard another explosion nearby, sounding curiously soft, there was a blast of hot air on my face, and then there were the bells of the approaching fire-tender and ambulance. I was being dragged by my shoulder. It was ---. “Come on,” he panted, “we’ll never get near it. They’ve had it, poor bastards.” We must have made our way back to the van as the rescue vehicles arrived; I don’t remember much about that part. I was leaning up against the side of the van and wiping my face with a shaking hand when I heard --- say, “Now I’ve got to go and tell the S.I.O. that his son was flying – that.” “Oh, Christ,” I groaned. “Let’s go,” he said, “Let’s get to hell out of here.” He switched on the engine of the Utility as the black funeral pall of smoke spread over the sky, and thinning, smudged the sunset dirtily. I read an article in a magazine recently. The writer had been visiting some place which had impressed her. She concluded with [page break] the words, “But you never lose an experience like that. You carry it around with you.” Yes. And sometimes you feel you need just a little help to carry it just a little further. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] First Solo [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] FIRST SOLO [/underlined] I drank some more beer and said to Connie, “The trouble with Shep is that he’s far too damned opinionated, and what’s much worse, he’s far too often right. You just can’t knock him down, can you?” Afetr [sic] several pints in the White Hart I was feeling less in control than I might have been, but having given vent to that penetrating observation I felt quite foolishly and inordinately pleased with myself. Connie, who had also had several, perhaps for different reasons, looked at me a trifle owlishly. “I say, Yoicks,” he said, slurring just a little, “that’s rather good. You’re dead right.” “If you don’t mind, Connie,” I said, “I’d rather you didn’t use that word.” “What word? What have I said?” “Dead,” I replied. At the time, Connie and I were busy settling into our new routine in ‘X’ Flight of the O.T.U. at Moreton-in-the-Marsh. The powers-that-be had decided that there were too many pilots in Ferry Flight just across the way, and not enough utility pilots in ‘X’ Flight. Squadron Leader ---, with barely disguised joy, had promptly nominated me for transfer. And perhaps because he knew Connie and I were close friends, he had selected him to accompany me. “Utility” was the word for it. We flew Wellingtons on fighter affiliation exercises and on air-to-air gunnery, one pilot and a kite full of A.G.s who took it in turns to man the turrets. Fighter affiliation was by common accord reckoned to be gen stuff, that is, approximating to the real thing – mock attacks by the ‘X’ Flight Defiant, convincingly hurled around the sky by Cliff, at which the gunners “fired” their camera-guns. But the air-to-air lark, I always thought, was of very doubtful value. Our Lysander flew straight and level, towing on a cautiously long cable, a canvas drogue, at which the gunners fired live ammo. with prodigal enthusiasm. Doubtful value? I might have said “pointless” instead. How many Me109s or 110s obligingly flew alongside you at a convenient distance and invited [page break] you to have a shot at them? It was damn noisy, too, with both your turrets blazing away, and the smell of cordite lingered on your battledress for days. Most of the time the Defiant or the Lysander, whichever was in action, was flown by Cliff. He was tallish, lean, dark-haired and casual, a Canadian Flight Sergeant, but a man who might have stepped straight out of a Western film. Like Connie, he too was entering the last few months of his life. Cliff, the casual, was soon to be killed over Hamburg in his Pathfinder Lancaster. The other occasional pilot on the two single-engined kites was Hank, an American, a Flying Officer in the R.A.F., also casual and easy-going, but suave, where Cliff was slightly flinty. The two were inseparable, if only as inveterate gamblers. I learned a lot about the gentle art of shooting craps from Cliff and Hank. On days when there was no flying, when Bill, Connie and I would be lecturing the O.T.U. pupils on Flying Control systems, emergency procedures, dinghy drill and airfield lighting and also, in my case, on the layout of the multifarious internal fittings of the Wellington, Cliff and Hank would retire to a quiet corner of the hangar. Gambling was strictly prohibited by the R.A.F., of course, but the rattle of dice would faintly be heard, punctuated by urgent cries of “Box cars!” “Baby needs new shoes!” or “Two little rows of rabbit-shit!” Money was never seen to change hands, but now and again it was apparent, from the obvious tension which was building up between them, that the stakes were high. Our happy little Flight was genially run by an Irish Flight Lieutenant named Bill. Bill was the very antithises [sic] of Squadron Leader --- whom I’d just left behind. He was a tall, gangling, rather awkward-looking pilot who affected a slightly vague nonchalance about life in general. One of his endearing little foibles was that he seldom, if ever, referred to an aircraft by its proper name. It was commonplace that all Wellingtons were Wimpies, and fairly common that Lysanders were Lizzies, but he extended these nicknames by referring to our Defiant as a Deefy. [page break] I sat in on his introductory lecture to a new Course, a dummy run for me before I took over the conducting of the wedding ceremony of sprog crews to the Wimpy. They had all come off Oxfords and it was a bit awe-inspiring at first to be confronted by the size and complexity of the Wellington at close quarters. Bill’s opening remarks were memorable. He lurched up on to the dais, which was, in our hangar, alongside a complete Wellington fuselage, stripped of its fabric, and also near a separate cockpit taken from another kite. He looked slowly around the faces in front of him, as though surprised to find himself there at all, then lit a cigarette, exhaled, beamed happily at our new charges, coughed softly, and in an unbelievably broad Ulster accent uttered the following pearl of wisdom and deep scientific truth. “Well, now. This here – this here is a Wimpy, and –“ patting a mainplane as one would a favourite dog, and lowering his voice confidentially as he leaned forward earnestly towards them – “these are the wings. Now you’ll be wondering what keeps them on. But don’t you be worrying yourselves about that, ‘cos it’s ahll [sic] ahrganised.” [sic] After that, he had our pupils in the hollow of his hand; they adored him, as we all did. Dear old Bill. Old? He was about twenty three. Bill, Hank, Cliff, Connie and me. A nice mixture; one Northern Irishman, one American, a Canadian and two Englishmen. Then into our happy little world stepped a newcomer. Shep. Correction – he did not step, he never stepped. He would barge, blunder, or he would push, but step? No. However, he arrived, all right. That was the system all over. ‘X’ Flight had needed two pilots, so it got three. Shep was a stocky, powerful little Yorkshireman, darkish hair thinning a bit, snub-nosed, built like a prop forward and always with a challenging look shining from his eyes, as though to tell the world, “I’m only five foot six but don’t let that fool you, I’m little and good and I’m worth two of you.” In his manner of speaking he was blunt and earthy to the point of rudeness, but almost everything he said was accompanied by that challenging look and a grin, which took the edge off most of his outrageous remarks. While none of us, except perhaps Bill, were saints as regards our language, which was, when circumstances demanded it, bespattered with words we wouldn’t normally use in mixed [page break] company, not to mention the odd spot of blasphemy, Shep’s outpourings were liberally garnished with a single oath, namely, “bloody”, which, at times, he rather over-used, I’m afraid. Like Connie, he had been on Stirlings in 3 Group, or rather, “them bloody Stirlin’s” and, of course, when he realised that he and Connie had that in common he attached himself firmly to the two of us. So our placid little duo became a slightly turbulent trio. Express an opinion which didn’t match Shep’s and, “Ah’m tellin’ you, you’re bloody wrong. Now listen ‘ere – “ and one would be corrected in no uncertain way. On an occasion when flying was scrubbed for a couple of days due to bad weather, we found ourselves in the city of Oxford. We had a meal, and we also had several beers. When it came to the time to go for the train back to Moreton it was growing dusk and it became necessary to find our slightly alcoholic way from an unfamiliar side street to the railway station. There developed a slight divergence of opinion as to the correct course to steer; Connie and I were all for heading in a certain direction, but not so Shep. Oh, no. “It’s not that bloody way, Ah’m tellin’ you, Ah’m bloody sure we passed that big buildin’ over there when we came in.” Meekly, we followed him. And arrived at the railway station in a few minutes. That was Shep all over. A trip to Stratford-on-Avon followed, one Sunday, and we were regaled with a lecture on bloody Shakespeare, and also bloody Ann Hathaway. The trouble was that Connie and I were both reasonably ignorant about Shakespeare and all his works and couldn’t contradict, or even argue with Shep. It was a trifle frustrating, to say the least, at times. I seem to recall that it was my idea in the first instance, to have a bash at the single-engined kites which we owned. I had been up with a crowd of gunners on fighter affil., no evasive action, of course, to give them practice in getting the Defiant in their sights long enough to get a picture of it. It was simply a question of flying a straight-line track along the line of the range for about forty miles and back again, while all the gunners had a shot. To be honest, it was pretty damn boring, except when one of the pupils, [page break] despite all my previous entreaties and warnings, would clumsily heave himself in or out of the rear turret and give the undoubtedly adjacent and awkwardly placed main elevator control shaft a hearty push or shove, whereupon we were all hurled up to the roof or on to the floor amid a torrent of curses, depending on whether the kite was forced suddenly into a climb or a dive. It broke the grinding monotony of straight and level flight, though, and once back into the correct attitude everyone had a good laugh about it, including me. Needless to say, the exercise was conducted at a very respectable altitude to allow for such eventualities, and also to give Cliff free rein to throw the Deefy around with considerable abandon. I was stooging along at about six thousand feet on a day of pleasant sunshine while all this was going on around me, watching Cliff out of the corner of my eye as he screamed across and down beyond my starboard wingtip in a near-vertical bank which he would then convert into a steep turn and a rocket-like climb, before coming in at me again from some new angle. I was thinking that it was pretty to watch, and that he should have been a fighter boy. I thought also that I might well have been one, too, had I not had two early love-affairs, a distant one with the Wellington across the field at Sywell, the other with Betty who had suffered under the German bombing of her home town. But the germ of an idea was growing as the morning progressed and as I day-dreamed, holding the Wimpy on course over the placid Gloucestershire landscape while the white puffs of cumulus drifted lazily by on their summer way. When I’d finally finished the detail and landed back at Moreton I disgorged my crew of gunners and wandered into Bill’s office. He was sitting there doing his best to look like Lon Chaney on one of his off-days. “Hello, Bill,” I said, “have you got a minute?” “Sure, Junior, me boy,” he replied, “and what would be on your mind, now?” “Well, it’s like this,” I said thoughtfully, “I’ve been watching Hank and Cliff having all the fun chucking the Deefy and the Lizzie about –“ he had me doing it by this time – “ – and I was thinking I’d like to have a bash on them, too. I did my S.F.T.S. on Harvards, [page break] you know.” “Did you now?” he answered thoughtfully, “well, well, let’s see.” He lowered his voice confidentially and looked around conspiratorially. He pretended to be watching a Wimpy on the circuit. “As a matter of fact,” he said quietly, “a little bird tells me that Hank might be leaving us soon.” “Oh?” I said, not wanting to appear to be too inquisitive, and waited for him to go on. “Yes,” he said, “apparently the Chief Instructor came across him and Cliffy rolling the bones in a quiet corner, and poor old Hank, him being the senior and an Officer and all, is going to be sent to the place where they send naughty boys.” “But what a bloody stupid waste,” I exclaimed, “Hank’s a damn fine pilot. He goes and sticks his neck right out, volunteers for the R.A.F. when he had no need to, being a Yank, and just because he rolls a couple of dice they’re going to kick him up the backside. It seems damned childish to me.” “Oh, he won’t be grounded for good, or anything like that, he’ll just do drill and P.T. and parades and so forth for a couple of weeks, then they’ll send him back on flying, somewhere. Anyhow, the point is, I could use another pilot or two for the Deefy and the Lizzie, so you and Connie and Shep might as well have a go. It wouldn’t be fair on them if I said O.K. to you and not to the other two.” “No, of course not,” I said. “There’s no dual controls, you realise that, don’t you, Junior? You’ll have to pick it up from a ride or two in the back seat and read up the Pilot’s Notes a bit.” “I’ve already been genning up on them,” I grinned, “I think I know where all the taps are, it’s just a question of getting the feel of the things.” “You crafty so-and-so,” Bill said, smiling. “O.K., then, you fix it all up with Cliffy and I’ll have a word with the other two. H’m. Is that the time? Neither of us are flying this afternoon, so how about a quick noggin before lunch?” “Sound suggestion, Bill,” I said. We walked up to the Mess together; I was feeling slightly excited at the thought of getting a couple of new types in my log-book. I suppose I liked the challenge. [page break] It was strange to be sitting jammed into the four-gun turret of the Defiant while Cliff flew it around the circuit and gave me the gen. “She’s a bit of a heavy sonofabitch,” he drawled, “but she’s got no vices if you treat her right.” To be honest, I couldn’t see anything of what went on in the cockpit in front of me, all I could do was to form some idea of the distances on the circuit, where to start reducing speed and where to put the wheels and flaps down, and to watch the landing attitude, of course. He did a couple of circuits and bumps for me and that was all we had time for on that session. Soon afterwards, he gave me a ride in the Lysander. That was quite an entertaining experience. It was an ugly-looking parasol-wing kite with a big, chattery radial engine, wonderful visibility due to the high wing, a fixed undercart and ultra-short take-off and landing runs. It was fitted with God knows what in the way of trick slots and flaps. Take-off was incredible, it made me want to laugh out loud. “The important thing,” said Cliff as we stood ticking over, ready to roll, “is to make sure you’ve got your elevator trim central for take-off – this wheel right here.” I leaned over his shoulder and looked at the aluminium wheel down below his left elbow. It was the size of a small, thick dinner-plate, with a bright red mark painted across the rim as a datum. “If you don’t have that centralised, like it is now, you’ll try to loop as soon as she gets airborne, then we’ll be having a whip-round for a goddam wreath for you. So watch it, bud.” “O.K., Cliff,” I said, “I’ve got you.” “Let’s go, then, eh?” he said, and opened the throttle. We seemed to be airborne in about fifty yards and climbed like a lift in a hurry. The runway simply dropped away below us. Compared to the Wellington’s take-off it was simply unbelievable. “Hell’s teeth!” I said, “She really wants to go, doesn’t she?” “Sure does,” he replied happily. Landing was equally impressive. It seemed you just closed the throttle and the Lizzie did the rest. She was designed for Army [page break] co-operation duties, to land in any small, flat field. And, of course, they were used extensively for the cloak-and-dagger stuff, putting in our agents to western Europe by night and picking up others, all by the light of the moon and a couple of hand torches: that must have been quite something. Cliff turned into wind. “No undercart to worry about,” he called. Suddenly there was an almighty ‘clonk’ and I almost snapped the safety harness as I jumped involuntarily. “What the hell was that?” I asked. “No danger, just the slots popping out at low speed. Now see, I’ve got the elevator trim wound right back. Get it?” “O.K.,” I said, “Got it.” We lowered ourselves down on to the runway and rumbled to a halt in a few yards. “Bloody marvellous!” I exclaimed, “some kite, isn’t it?” “Sure is,” said Cliff as we taxied in, “I wouldn’t mind one of these babies for myself, to take back home.” “No trouble at all,” I replied, “they’ll be two a penny after the war, and with all the cash you’ve won at craps you’ll be able to afford a fleet of them.” He laughed. “Aw, well, we’ll have to see, when the time comes,” he said. The time never came, of course. You can guess who organised himself the first solo. You’re right, it was Shep. “Ah’m flyin’ the bloody Lizzie in ten minutes,” he announced loudly, one day soon after, bustling into the hangar and crashing open his locker door. “How’d you fix that?” Connie asked. “Ah, well, Ah’m the best bloody pilot around here so Bill said it was only right Ah should have first bloody crack before either of you clumsy buggers bent it.” “Get the Line-Book out!” I shouted, “Just listen to that – best pilot? You’re just a ham-fisted bus driver, you four-engined types are all alike!” [page break] “Steady on, Yoicks,” Connie said, “don’t include us all in that.” “Well, some of you are ham-fisted,” I said. “Anyhow, let’s go and witness this demonstration of immaculate, text-book flying by our modest friend here.” Shep grinned and slung his chute over his shoulder, then the three of us wandered down to the peri. track where our Lizzie was standing on the grass, looking quite docile and waiting for her pilot. Shep buckled his chute straps into the harness quick-release box, pulled on his helmet and heaved himself into the cockpit. Connie and I lit cigarettes while he started her up, ran up the engine and taxied out for take-off. “When are you going to have a shot?” Connie asked. “Tomorrow, in the Lizzie,” I replied, “I’m quite looking forward to it.” Shep was ready for take-off. He opened her up and the bright yellow Lysander quivered and tolled, then she was airborne, climbing steeply and joyously. He took her nicely around the circuit, a much smaller one than the Wellington’s, of course. Connie and I watched critically, smoking and chatting. As he was on his landing approach Bill drifted along. “How’s he doing?” he asked. “Bang on,” I said, “just coming in now.” Shep landed and taxied round to the start of the runway again. He had done all right, we agreed. No reason why I shouldn’t, too, I thought. Hurry up, tomorrow. He stopped to let a Wimpy take off. The contrast was grotesque, the bomber using most of the runway and climbing very shallowly away over the trees as it tucked its wheels up, leaving behind it a blur of oily, brownish-black smoke. Shep moved on to the runway into position for takeoff. It was a lovely afternoon, hardly any wind, a few puffs of cumulus at about four thousand feet. There was a slight haze over the low hills beyond the railway station. We heard him open her up and she rolled. He’d hardly got the tail up before he was airborne, nose-high. Then he was climbing steeply, the engine howling, the kite hanging on its prop. [page break] “Oh, sweet Jesus!” Bill said, very distinctly, next to me. I simply stopped breathing and watched. We were going to see Shep die in front of our eyes and were completely unable to do a thing to help him. Then, at the moment when it seemed he would inevitably stall and crash into the middle of the aerodrome from less than a hundred feet, he somehow got the nose down, and as he did so, painfully raised the starboard wing. The crazy, fatal climb changed slowly, so terribly slowly, into a steep turn to port. Shep was in a series of tight turns, at full throttle, right over the centre of the runway at about fifty feet. Gradually, the turns slackened, the note of the screaming engine eased. He flew over us, very low, still turning to port, but now more or less in control, obviously winding the trimmer frantically forward. “Bloody hell!” Connie gasped, “I thought he’d had it that time.” I could only gulp and nod. I felt for a cigarette with hands which were shaking so much I could hardly open the case. My knees felt like water. Bill sighed and said quietly, “I’m afraid he didn’t do his cockpit drill. He forgot the elevator trim.” We said nothing, but watched as Shep came in to land. “Let’s go,” Bill said. We went back to the Flight Office. Five minutes later Shep bustled in, a bit red in the face. He dumped his chute and helmet on to a chair. “Bloody Lizzies!” he exploded wrathfully, “that bloody trimmer wants modifying, it’s a bloody menace!” We could only look at one another in silence and amazement. Surely he would admit to being in the wrong, just this once? Next day, Bill called for Connie and I and silently handed us a memo from the Chief Instructor. “With immediate effect,” it said, “Lysander and Defiant aircraft of ‘X’ Flight will be flown only by the following personnel. F/L W. McCaughan, F/O H. Ross, F/Sgt C. Shnier.” Bill, Hank and Cliff. I handed the memo back to Bill. [page break] “Yes, Bill,” I said, “O.K., fair enough.” So we flew Wimpies up and down the range and liked it, and we watched Cliff hurling the Defiant into gloriously abandoned manoeuvres in the late summer sky while we flew straight and level. And we gritted our teeth, and we liked it. But now and again I had a sneaking little thought – I wondered what would have happened if that had been me up there instead of Shep. Would I still be bouncing around, like he still was, or …..? I know, of course, what became of poor Connie, and every year on the anniversary of the day it happened, I visit him where he lies. What happened to Shep, I don’t know, but I’m prepared to bet that whatever it was, he would have had the last word, or, as he would put it, the last bloody word. But really, he wasn’t such a bad bloke. As I said to Connie, you just couldn’t knock him down, that was all. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] The pepper pot [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] THE PEPPER POT [/underlined] It must have been a surprise to Connie as, just when we were about to climb up the ladder into the Wimpy one fine morning, he saw me fold into a heap at his feet. I can’t say it was much of a surprise to me, I hadn’t been feeling too brilliant for some time before that. Things then moved very quickly. The M.O. saw me and whipped me off to London for a medical board, where I was told quite pleasantly that my flying days were over as far as the Royal Air Force was concerned, and I was asked what I would like to do. No promises, of course. I said, “Intelligence, in Bomber Command.” That seemed to them a reasonable idea, as far as I could make out. Then followed several completely idle weeks in Brighton in mid-winter, waiting to see what was going to happen to me. My days’ work consisted of reporting to the Adjutant in the Metropole at nine a.m., asking, “Anything for me?” being told, “No”, and that was it until next morning, when the routine was repeated. I was billeted in a little hotel on King’s Road, facing the sea, with three or four other R.A.F. types and one or two R.A.A.F types. There were a few civilians there, too, among them the comedian Max Miller, who, off-stage seemed to me to be distinctly un-funny, if not downright anti-social. I made friends with a couple of other pilots, Aussies, John Alexander and Don Benn, who were on their way home. Don had crashed in a Beaufighter and injured his legs – his M.O. had said he should play some golf to strengthen them. As he had been a stockman in outback Queensland, the idea of his playing golf was rather amusing both to him and to me. But, as an utter tyro myself, I agreed to go around the lovely course, up on the Downs near Rottingdean, with him. At night, John and I would paint the town red in a mild sort of way, sometimes exercising the legs of the local police force. I caught a glimpse, one day, of Hank Ross, doing penance, marching in a squad of aircrew types along the front. It depressed me greatly. Hank looked desperately unhappy. I waved to him and he acknowledged [page break] me with only a sad little smile. I thought that if he had waved back, he would probably have been sent to the Tower. It still seemed desperately unjust. I never saw Hank again. Eventually my course came through, to an Intelligence training centre in a big old house in Highgate. Some fairly hush-hush stuff went on there and we were forbidden to talk to anyone who wasn’t on our own course of about twenty. But one evening, in the anteroom, I was delighted and amazed to see dear old Tim, and made a bee-line for him, rules or no rules. We chatted for a few minutes until someone intervened. Next day I was kept behind after a lecture and given a severe reprimand, and although I saw Tim several times after that, I never spoke to him again while we were there. Not until we met, at Niagara Falls, almost fifty years later – two survivors. During this time, Alan was called up for training amd [sic] I discovered he had reported to an Aircrew Reception Centre at St. John’s Wood. We met for half a day, had a long talk, a visit to the flicks and a meal at a strange and deserted Greek restaurant somewhere near Covent Garden. The end of March found me posted as an Intelligence Officer to Linton-on-Ouse, where there were two Halifax Squadrons, one commanded, as I discovered when I arrived, by Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire. Soon afterwards, the Canadians were about to take over Linton and I accompanied one of the Squadrons to Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, in east Yorkshire. After a couple of weeks there, the S.I.O. decided that they were rather short-handed at the satellite Station, Breighton, where the other Squadron from Linton had settled in. So there, among the farm buildings of the nondescript but not unpleasant hamlet of Breighton, I put down roots for a few months. And there I met J - . . . . . . . . . . . . . I was pinning up the bombing photos of the previous night’s raid when I noticed he was there again. the Intelligence Library, no matter how we tried to dress it up, was never all that well-populated, and that morning was no exception. The photos usually drew a few [page break] interested crew members, Tee Emm was invariably popular, but the other stuff was really a bit on the dull side. There wasn’t, for example, a tremendous rush for the Bomber Command Intelligence Digest. Most of the crews, anyhow, were sleeping off last night’s trip, or last night’s session in the local, whichever was applicable. This little gunner, though, I had seen him in there several times before, always at the same table near the door. It made me wonder. I suppose it was rather obtuse of me not to have cottoned, especially in view of my own feelings about J - . Anyhow, when I had put up the photos I went over to him, more out of curiosity than anything. “Hello,” I said to him, “did you want something?” He hesitated, then said, “I suppose – “ “Yes?” “I suppose Sergeant S – isn’t on duty, is she? I saw it all, then. One of our W.A.A.F. Watchkeepers, Billie S – was very much sought after for dates, and, it must be admitted, slightly blasé about the whole business. Rumour had it she was the daughter of a fairly high-ranking Army Officer in the Middle East. She was an extremely pleasant girl, blue-eyed, blonde and very nicely shaped, with a calm, almost angelic manner and a vibrant, husky voice which could send the odd shiver up your spine when she used it in conjunction with those big blue eyes of hers. But not my type. Now J - , one of the other two Watchkeepers, she was a different matter entirely. I had the feeling I was going to like Breighton very much indeed, even though I’d only been there just over a week. “Sergeant S - ?” I said to him, “do you want to see her?” (Bloody silly question, I thought, of course he did.) “Well, if I could, just for a minute, if it’s no trouble.” “I’ll see what I can do.” I went back into the Ops. Room. Billie was purring at someone on the telephone and even then, unconsciously using her china-blue eyes expressively. Apart from her, there was only Margaret, one of the Int. Clerks, writing industriously. Billie hung up finally. I said, “Billie, there’s a gunner in the Int. Library would like [page break] a word with you.” She wrinkled her nose just a little and said, “who is it, sir? Not that Sergeant P - ?” “Don’t know his name,” I replied, “smallish chap, though, in Sergeant – ‘s crew, if I remember rightly.” “Yes, that sounds like him, Johnny P - ,” she answered, with a faint sigh. She shrugged her shoulders and with a lift of her immaculately plucked eyebrows she said, “Would you mind, very much, sir?” She sounded resigned. “No, you go right ahead,” I said with a grin, “mind he doesn’t chew your ears off, though.” She laughed quietly and went out, smoothing down her skirt over her hips as she went. Margaret was smiling quietly to herself and I cleared my throat rather noisily and started to sort out a pile of new target maps, mostly of Hamburg, I noticed. My tea had gone cold and I cursed it. Margaret looked up and laughed. “Shall I get you some more, sir?” “If you wouldn’t mind, Margaret, there’s a dear.” She went out into the little store-room-cum-kitchen between the Ops. Room and the Int. Library, which we had been told recently to empty as far as possible. This had intrigued us greatly, but we asked no questions. Billie came back, patting her blonde hair and looking a little flushed. “Well,” I said, “have you been fighting like a tigress for your honour?” “Oh, nothing like that, sir,” she replied with a smile, and left it at that, which was fair enough. Nothing at all to do with me, really. Margaret came back with teas all round. The war could continue. Billie got behind her switchboard, handed me a cigarette and did her usual pocket-emptying routine in search of a comb or a lipstick or something, as I lit her cigarette. The stuff that girl carried around with her. The moon period came around and there weren’t any ops for a few days. Funny to think that when I had been operating a full moon was popularly known as a “bombers’ moon”. Now it was shunned as [page break] being too helpful to the German night-fighters. We more or less caught up with the outstanding stuff; the Watchkeepers got the S.D. 300 slap up to date and Pam spent a bit of time in the Library putting up some new stuff on the notice boards and going over some bomb-plots with the crews from the photos they had come back with. She mentioned casually that one of the gunners seemed to be spending a lot of time in there. I merely said “Oh, yes?” and looked blankly at her. I got to know J – a little better during this time, and I knew that this was it. I was very pleased to see that she didn’t have an engagement ring on her finger. Our conversations progressed imperceptibly from one hundred per cent “shop” to a slightly more personal level. I found I was looking forward more and more to the times when she would be on duty, and I tried to fiddle it so that I was on at the same times. I also found that I was looking forward less than usual to my next leave, which would take me away from her for a week. One afternoon, when things were quiet, I asked J – how Billie was coping with Johnny. “Well, he’s very persistent,” she said, “he wants a date with her, but she’s doing her best to stall him off. Poor kid, what he really wants is his mother, you know.” I nodded thoughtfully; I hadn’t seen it quite like that. “So is Billie going to date him?” I asked. “Well, I don’t know what she’ll decide,” J – said, “she’s tried her best to head him off, and all that, but he just shakes his head and keeps asking her to go out with him just once; what can she do?” “Knowing Billie, I’m sure she’ll think of something,” I said, and we smiled at one another. I little suspected what in fact she was thinking of. Had I known, I would have slept less at nights than I was already doing, for various reasons. Of course, I was thinking along the lines of asking J – for a date, too, but I was worried about rushing things. I had to pick my moment and I wasn’t sure just how to recognise when it had come. I would lie awake thinking it over, and thinking about J - , which just shows you what sort of state I was in. [page break] Two or three nights later I was on duty with Freda, the third of the Watchkeepers. Our aircraft had just gone off and we were relaxing a bit and wondering if we’d get any early returns. Freda had just finished phoning the captains’ names and take-off times through to Base at Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, along the road about eight miles, when the phone rang. “It’s Billie, for you, sir,” Freda said. “For me, Freda?” “Yes, sir, she asked for you.” I thought Billie must have forgotten to finish something on her last shift and wanted to square it with me, or get Freda to do it while she was on duty. “Hello, Billie,” I said into the phone, “what’s the gen?” “Oh, hello, sir,” came her creamy, purring voice, “can I ask you a favour?” I still thought it was going to be something to do with work. “Of course,” I answered blithely, little knowing that my whole life was in the process of being changed from that very second. “Well, sir, I’ve got a date with someone tomorrow night, and to be perfectly honest about it, I’d rather make it into a foursome. So would you be willing to come along?” “Hell’s teeth, Billie,” I said, “this is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it? But never mind, yes, O.K., you can count me in on it.” “Oh, thank you very much, I knew you wouldn’t let me down, it’s such a load off my mind. You’re sure you’ve no objections?” “No, of course I don’t mind, I’m game for anything,” I said brightly. “It isn’t Johnny, by any chance, is it?” “Well, sir, as a matter of fact, it is,” she said confidentially. “I couldn’t very well get out of it and I thought it would be best if I tried to organise a foursome – the Londesborough Arms in Selby, if that’s all right with you. By the way, I’ve got some transport laid on from the W.A.A.F. guardroom to get us there, seven o’clock, assuming there’s a stand-down, of course, but we’ll have to make our own way back, so it’s bikes all round. We can push them on to the lorry to go to Selby.” “Sounds bang-on,” I said. Billie started to make end-of-conversation noises and was obviously about to hang up on me. [page break] “Just hold on a sec., Billie,” I chipped in quickly, “there’s just one small detail I’d like to get clear – who am I taking along?” “Oh, don’t you worry about that, sir,” she said airily, “I’m sure I can find someone nice for you. Thank you very much indeed.” She put the phone down. I lit a cigarette and drank a mug of tea thoughtfully, letting my imagination give me a pleasant few minutes until we got a call from Flying Control that we had an early return coming back. So, for the time being, at any rate, I put the thought of my blind date aside. When the main body of our aircraft came back, one of the crews I interrogated happened to be that of Johnny P - . His pilot was a chunky bloke with a staccato manner. Johnny just sat there quietly smoking and saying nothing, but looking silently into infinity, as though he’d never seen me, or his crew, before. It was a bit weird. Finally, Pam, Derek and I got the Raid Report completed and bunged it off to Holme by D.R. I got to bed about 0400. I was awake again with just about enough time to cycle down to breakfast. It was a miserable morning, ten-tenths low cloud and raining like the clappers. But J – was on duty and the day seemed to brighten when I saw here. Pam was photo-plotting as hard as she could and I got my head down, alongside her, over the mosaic photograph, about four feet by three, of last night’s target. No-one said very much. The blackboard had been cleaned off, in readiness for the next one. The photo-plotting took a long time, there was so little ground detail on the crews’ pictures due to cloud-cover over the target. About ten-thirty we got a stand-down through; J – phoned it around to those who were concerned. Buy lunch time we’d only plotted about half a dozen photos. One thing about the Ruhr – if you missed the aiming-point you usually hit something or other in the way of a built-up area. It was a consolation. At lunchtime the rain had eased and there were even a few breaks in the cloud to the west. Derek took over from me about two-thirty and promptly plotted one of the photos to within a couple of hundred yards of the A.P., from a sliver of ground detail you could hardly see. [page break] “Beginner’s luck,” I said laughingly, and went off for a sleep. I hit the mattress and knew no more for a couple of hours. When I awoke, it took me a few seconds to remember that I was going on a blind date that evening, but suddenly I felt unreasonably, unaccountably happy, swept along by a wave of well-being which had me whistling “Tuxedo Junction” and singing snatches of “Sally Brown” as I got myself spruced up and into my best blue. I don’t know why I should have felt like that; possibly as someone once said, the mood of flying men changes with the weather, and outside, I saw that the sky had cleared to a beautiful evening. “Sally Brown is a bright mulatto,” I sang, “Way, hey, we roll and go – “She drinks rum and chews tobacco, “Spend my money on Sally Brown!” Which started me wondering, again, who my date would be. I honestly hadn’t a clue, Billie had given me no inkling whatsoever, but I trusted her implicitly not to saddle me with some worthy but plain girl who would spend the evening painfully tongue-tied and twisting her fingers together. Never mind, I thought, it’s quite a change for me and at least we might all have one or two laughs together and try to forget about ops and casualties for a couple of hours. At five to seven I was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, twenty yards or so from the W.A.A.F. guardroom, and trying also to think up a convincing story to tell the W.A.A.F. (G) Officer if she should appear and want to know what I was doing. As I was looking at my watch for the third or fourth time I heard a soft, musical voice say, “Hello, are we each other’s date?” and there she was, there was J - , looking quite wonderful. My heart skipped a couple of beats, I could feel myself blushing scarlet and I found I was grinning foolishly. I managed to stammer something trite, or perhaps merely stupid. Anyhow, J – laughed, and I laughed with her, more or less in relief. I felt a bridge had been crossed, or at least, built. Everything happened pretty swiftly after that. Billie and Johnny P – cycled breathlessly up, a fifteen-hundredweight lorry with several [page break] assorted aircrew on board screeched to a halt, and accompanied by a chorus of piercing wolf-whistles, Johnny and I loaded the four cycles on to the lorry, helped the girls up and scrambled aboard ourselves. Loud cries of “Let’s get airborne!” and “Chocks away!” and we were off, racing over the wet roads under the trees, through the village, being thrown companionably and tightly against one another as the driver took corners at some speed, and away to Selby, the nearest town of any size. It turned out to be rather a dingy little place, I thought, but the pub itself was clean and surprisingly quiet, no Breighton types, or indeed no uniforms at all, apart from ours, to be seen. The evening went by in a blur which was only partly due to the intake of alcohol. Billie was her usual polished and poised self and Johnny never took his eyes off her. He looked like a thirsty man approaching an oasis. Such an unremarkable little chap to look at, a mere five feet six or seven, mousy, rather untidy brown hair, slim built like we all were on wartime rations and high levels of stress, but with an infectious grin which would suddenly light up his plain features. What J – and I talked about I cannot for the life of me remember; I was completely bowled over by the simple fact of listening to her cool, musical voice. I think we talked about books and cricket, but had we simply sat in silence, that would have ensured my complete happiness, merely to be at her side, in her charming company. Considering the rationing position, we had a very good meal in the small, half-empty dining room. I remember how spotlessly white the tablecloth was. Johnny demonstrated his talents as an amateur conjuror, palming small objects and plucking them out of our ears, and so on. We had all had two or three drinks by then and our laughter came fairly freely. He did one small, silly trick with the chromium pepper pot, holding it between his fingers and rushing it down towards the table in the representation of a bomb’s rushing it down towards the table in the representation of a bomb’s trajectory, with the accompanying piercing whistle. We all duly made “boom” noises when it hit the cloth – except that it didn’t, it was no longer to be seen. Eventually it was time to go. We undid the locks on our cycles in the twilight of the summer evening, and by tacit agreement, split [page break] up into two couples. J – and I didn’t hurry, tomorrow could take care of itself and we never saw Billie and Johnny again that evening. On the way back we stopped at a field-gate by the edge of a copse and leaned our elbows on the top bar, side by side, to watch the sickle moon slowly rise. One or two aircraft droned distantly in the starry vault of the darkening sky and we followed the nav. lights of one of them until they vanished into the haze and all was silent again, except for some small animal rustling his nocturnal way through the undergrowth. We didn’t talk much, I think we were both content with the magic of the still night and with each other’s presence and new-found companionship. As we stood there, I tentatively put my arm around her shoulders and that small overture was not repulsed. We talked about Johnny. “Do you know any of his crew?” I asked J - . “Some of them,” she answered, “they seem nice lads. Johnny’s lucky to have a crew like that.” “Yes,” I said, “he is. It’s a very special sort of relationship, there’s nothing quite like it.” She turned to look at me. “Your own crew, do you keep in touch with them?” So I told her. She put a hand on my arm. “I’m dreadfully sorry, I really had no idea that had happened.” We cycled back to Breighton. I felt a great peace stealing over me. We stopped at the now deserted road by the W.A.A.F. guardroom. “It’s been a lovely evening,” J – said, “thank you so much for it.” “I’m the one who should thank you,” I said, “for putting up with me.” She shook her head. “Don’t say that, please. Anyhow, I must go now.” She hesitated. Her lips, when I kissed her, were cool and sweet, like dew on a rosebud. The next morning Base Ops., in the shape of Flight Lieutenant Smith, came on the phone. [page break] “Is that you, Breighton?” he asked in his dried-up schoolmaster’s voice. He would seldom, if ever, call you by your own name, you were only “Breighton” to him. I sometimes wondered what he called his pupils and more especially, whether he called his wife by her surname. So I was always deliberately and exaggeratedly casual in reply to him, just to irritate him. “Yeah, Smithy, this is the Acting Unpaid Senior Int./Ops Officer, at your service. What can I do you for?” Smithy was not amused. He sniffed loudly. “We’re sending you some parcels. Store them in your little kitchen place, or whatever you call it. Don’t open them. That’s important, but keep them under lock and key until you’re told what to do with them, and keep the key on your person at all times. Is that understood?” “Cloak and dagger stuff, eh, Smithy?” He sniffed again and went on. “Expect them in about half an hour. They go under the name “Window.” Is that quite clear, Breighton?” “Yeah, I’ve got it.” He rang off and I mused a little, wondering what on earth it could be that was so secret and new. A sheeted-over lorry arrived from Holme and we started to unload the innocent-looking brown-paper parcels, the size of shoe boxes, and quite heavy, too. We all pitched in and got the lorry emptied eventually. By this time you could just about squeeze up to the sink in there to make the tea. Which one of the girls did, as we needed some by then. I dutifully locked the door on the bundles but I could see this was going to be a real bind, so we laid on tea-making facilities with the W.A.A.F.s in the telephone exchange, next to the Ops Room, and moved our few mugs and kettle and so on in with them. When things had quietened down and I thought no-one would notice particularly, I slipped quietly in to the Window Store, as I was now mentally calling it, locked the door carefully behind me and took down one of the parcels. Very carefully I made a small slit in one corner of the wrapping paper so that it would look like accidental damage. I looked inside. There were hundreds, or perhaps thousands, [page break] of what seemed to be paper strips, about an inch wide and a foot or so long, matt black on one side, silvered on the other. My first thought was that they were some new form of incendiary device. I sniffed them – no smell. What on earth could they be? Was it something to dazzle the searchlights, then? In that case, why weren’t both sides shiny? I could get no further with my theorising, but as it happened I was somewhere on approximately the right lines. I carefully replaced the bundle and went back into the Ops Room, not forgetting to lock the door behind me as I left the thousands of bundles of Window. I put on an innocent expression and started to whistle “Sally Brown”. “Quite a nice day out there,” I said. I wonder if I fooled them. The mysterious Window wasn’t a mystery for much longer. A couple of days later we got a target through, quite early on, which was a sign that the weather was going to be settled. Hamburg. Hence all those new target maps. And when the operational gen came through, bomb load, route and timings and so on, right at the end was the magic word Window. It was to be carried by all aircraft. The number of bundles per aircraft was stated, as were the points on the route where dropping was to start and finish. The dropping height and the rate of dropping was stated, everything was laid down. Then we guessed it. It was a radar-foxing thing. “Let’s hope it works,” we said to one another. Derek did the briefing and I went along to listen, sensing that this might be an historic occasion. The Station Commander stood up on the platform first, and conversation stopped abruptly. He looked slowly around the blacked out briefing room in the Nissen hut. You could have heard a pin drop. “Gentlemen,” he said, very slowly and quietly, “the intention of tonight’s operation is to destroy the city of Hamburg.” The silence was so intense you could almost feel it. He went on to say that they would be carrying a new device which would save us many casualties if it was used strictly in accordance with instructions, and he told them about Window, which was designed to swamp the enemy radar screens with hundreds of false echoes, each one looking like a four-engined bomber. Well, as far as Breighton was concerned, it worked like a charm that night. When the crews came back, and the Squadron’s all did, [page break] they were highly elated about the results of the attack and the lack of opposition. Few fighters had been sighted, flak was wildly inaccurate and spasmodic and the searchlights were completely disorganised and erratic. The photographs proved their elation was well-founded. Three days later it was Hamburg again, and my turn to brief them. I caught a glimpse of Johnny, sitting about three rows back, still with that distant look on his face, as though this had nothing to do with him. I mentioned this to J – when we met on night duty, the first time I had seen her since the night we had gone to Selby. “I’ve noticed it, too,” she said, “I don’t know what it is with him. Maybe it’s because of Billie, of course, he’s absolutely overboard for her. She’s changed too, she’s gone much quieter than she was.” “Yes, I’d noticed that,” I said, “funny what love does to you, isn’t it?” I gave J – a sideways look. She had coloured just a little, but smiled and said nothing. We were in the lull before take-off time. We talked about the possible effects of Window on this second raid on Hamburg. We did not know it at the time, of course, but this night was to be known as the night of the fire-storm, when hurricane-force winds, caused by the immense uprush of air from the fires, were to sweep their flame-saturated way through the city, even uprooting trees which had stood in their path. And there were still two further raids to come in the next week, plus an American daylight attack thrown in for good measure. “Did you notice the bomb-load was almost all incendiaries?” I asked J - . “Yes, I did,” she replied, “I wouldn’t be in Hamburg tonight for all the tea in China; imagine, almost eight hundred aircraft with full loads of incendiaries.” “Make them think a bit,” I said. “You know, J - , what I can’t understand is why they just don’t give in now, surrender while they’ve still got some towns which are fit to live in; it’s quite obvious that we’re just going to work our way through the list one by one and flatten all his cities – I can’t think why he will just allow this to happen.” We talked, smoked and drank tea far into the night. When they came back, the crews’ elation was now tinged with awe. No-one had [page break] ever seen such tremendous fires, “a sea of flame” was a common description by the crews, with a smoke pall towering to above twenty thousand feet; you could smell it in the aircraft, some said. It was either on one of the big Hamburg raids or very soon afterwards that Johnny P – ‘s crew did not come back. I have to admit, in shame, that they were, as far as my feelings were concerned, just one of the many that we lost – all good, brave lads, but now almost anonymous in their terrible numbers, like the headstones in a war-graves cemetery seen from a distance. I knew only few of them personally; when it happened, I felt the pang of the loss, but the impact was not so great, God forgive me, as that of the loss of a crew on my own Squadron, of men whom I had been flying alongside, or with. Perhaps there is a limit to the sorrow one can truly absorb and bear, perhaps a saturation point is reached when the loss of men becomes a ghastly normality, where the mind begins to accept it as part of the natural order of things. But later – then it will suddenly all strike home in some unguarded moment, with full savage impact, as it has done, many times since. When the last crew had been interrogated the night that Johnny went missing I saw Billie standing to one side, pale as chalk, gazing wordlessly at the faces around her, waiting for Johnny, who would never bother her again. I went over to her and touched her shoulder. “Try to get some sleep, Billie,” I said, “he may have landed away, you know.” It was all I could say. She nodded miserably. She was on duty next morning, when we started the photo-plotting, tense, deadly pale, her eyes haunted by heaven knows what dreadful visions. I had given her a cigarette and taken one myself when the clerk handed me something or other and distracted my efforts to produce my lighter. Billie said quietly, “I’ll get mine,” and, typically, dumped a load of stuff from her pocket on to the desk. It wasn’t a lighter which she’d got out, though, it was a chromium pepper pot. I froze. She clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and rushed blindly out of the Ops Room as we sat silent and motionless. [page break] Later that day I met J – outside the village church. “Shall we go inside?” she said. We stepped into the dimness of the nave. My mind was still on Johnny. “The way he looked,” I said softly to J - , “do you think perhaps he knew?” “Perhaps,” she said, “perhaps he did.” It was cool and quiet in there. J – knelt in a pew and bowed her head; I knelt alongside her so that our sleeves touched. Somehow, I felt I needed that nearness of her. A Prayer Book was at each place; there was just enough light left to read. I opened the book and came upon Psalm 91. “Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night: nor for the arrow that flieth by day. A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.” J – ‘s face was calm, next to me, as I thought of Johnny, and of all the others. After a while I closed the book and slowly stood up. I took J – gently by the hand and we walked out, shutting the heavy oak door behind us, into the dim, evening green-ness of the churchyard and the faraway sound of engines in the summer twilight, as the first stars were beginning to appear. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Approach and Landing. [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] APPROACH AND LANDING [/underlined] With the inevitablity [sic] of an experience of déja vu, it unrolled itself with preordained certainty in my dream, as completely familiar as the action of a film one has seen often before, slowly remembering it in all its detail, and on waking and thinking afresh about it, I realised with some surprise that I had never written about, or even spoken to anyone about this particular event – since the time that J – and I talked about it, that is – one which both at the time it happened and since that time, I had always privately marvelled – and shuddered at what might have been. At night in the Ops. Room at Breighton, once 78 Squadron’s Halifaxes had taken off there was little to do for whoever was on duty. Normally there was one Int./Ops. Officer – that is, Pam, Derek or myself – one duty Watchkeeper, a W.A.A.F. Sergeant, Billie, Freda or J - , and an Ops. Clerk. There was time to catch up on all sorts of things which of necessity had to be shelved during the process of assisting perhaps twenty or so aircraft to take off, adequately prepared and correctly informed, to bomb some target in the Third Reich. There was, naturally, time to chat, time to drink tea and to smoke endless cigarettes while the hours crawled by until the tension of the time of the first aircraft due into the circuit approached. And when J – and I were on duty together (and I took some pains to ensure that we often were) the conversations were naturally more relaxed, more personal. It was on one such occasion, when the names of people one had known in the Service were casually dropped into the talk like snowflakes on to a pond, to exist for an instant and then to vanish and to be almost forgotten, that one name struck a chord between us. I mentioned F – ‘s name quite casually, as that of someone I had known well by sight but not personally, a pilot on our sister Squadron at Binbrook eighteen months before, and who was the central character in a very highly skilled but very high-risk piece of flying which I had witnessed from, literally, a grandstand seat, and which, these many years later, was the subject of my dream. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] At Binbrook, when operations were on, it was necessary to have what was termed a Despatching Officer, one who was not flying on that operation. He was provided with a light van and a driver, and was to ensure that in this van there was contained every conceivable piece of necessary equipment which any member of any crew flying on the operation was likely to find to be unserviceable or to have forgotten prior to takeoff – articles such as flying helmet, goggles, oxygen mask, intercom. leads, the various essential maps and charts, and so on. In the event of a sudden radio call from an aircraft to the Flying Control Officer on duty in the Watch Office that some such was required. The Despatching Officer would be driven rapidly to the relevant aircraft’s dispersal to deliver the required piece of equipment. On one particular late winter’s afternoon, although both Squadrons were operating, my own crew was not among those detailed. And I was designated on the Battle Order as Despatching Officer. There was, as it happened, no call for my services and the Wellingtons started to take off, using one of the shorter runs, roughly north-west to south-east and passing within two or three hundred yards of the Watch Office. Once that I was certain that nothing was required, I went into the Watch Office and up on to the balcony to watch the aircraft taking off, bound for some target – I cannot recall which – across the North Sea.. All had left the ground and were on their way, vanishing into the evening sky to the east, when there was a call over the R/T from one of them which had just crossed the English coast. It was that piloted by F - . One of his main undercarriage wheels, the port wheel, could not be retracted. He was climbing away with one wheel locked into the ‘up’ position and one which would not join it. Apparently he could neither retract the wheel which was locked down nor lower again the wheel that was retracted. He was carrying a 4000 lb. High Capacity blast bomb, irreverently and casually known to us as a ‘Cookie’. His Commanding Officer, watching take-off from the Watch Office, called him up on the R/T and ordered him to jettison the Cookie into the North Sea, then to return to the aerodrome to attempt what would have been, in any case, a fairly hazardous [page break] landing with a full petrol load. But it was the only possible and sensible procedure in these unfortunate and unhappy circumstances. But F – was very much his own man. I knew him, from a distance, almost as the reincarnation of a cavalier of King Charles’ day, dark, good looking, dashing, individualistic, the complete extrovert. He might well have served as the model for Frans Hals’ “The Laughing Cavalier”. He replied – to his C.O., mark you – that he intended to bring his bomb back with him. Then, apparently, Wing Commander K - , his C.O. and he exchanged words and observations of some sort. But F - , literally in the driving seat, was adamant and persuasive enough to have his way. We waited rather breathlessly for what might transpire, as well as what his C.O. might say to him, should he, in fact manage to return safely. After a short while, all the aircraft operating having cleared the area, we heard the note of F – ‘s Twin Wasp engines, as noisy as four Harvards, which is saying something. He appeared on the circuit, a grotesque and unsettling sight. To those of us who have flown aircraft, especially Wellingtons, it is an almost unconscious reaction on seeing any aircraft in the air, to project oneself, as it were, into the cockpit, holding the controls, glancing at the blind-flying panel’s telltale instruments, and in this case, in F – ‘s case, seeing the wretched sight of one green light and two reds in the trio of small undercarriage warning light on the dashboard. There were now five or six of us on the Watch Office balcony and we watched tensely as F – steadily made his circuit and, throttling back, commenced his final approach. His particular aircraft, in common with a few on both Squadrons’ strengths, had been modified to carry a ‘cookie’, which was essentially a railway locomotive boiler, thin-skinned and packed with high explosive. The bomb was too deep to be accommodated in the normal Wellington bomb-bay, so the modification consisted in suspending it in a rectangular hole like an upturned, lidless coffin without bomb-doors, in the underside of the aircraft. And the bomb was by no means flush with the aircraft’s belly, it protruded, throughout its entire length, by several inches, horrifyingly open to flak, machine gun bullets, cannon-shells – or a belly landing. The sensitivity of the weapon was legendary, the name “blockbuster” applied [page break] to it by the press was completely apposite. So F – made his approach, one wheel up, one down, a grotesque and unpleasant sight, the cookie protruding ominously. Why we stood there watching, goodness only knows. Perhaps we were simply too fascinated to move or perhaps we were quite unthinking as to what the outcome might be, should there be an accident, a bad landing, and the cookie were to explode. If that had been the case, I would not be writing this. Or perhaps we were just plain stupid or reckless not to have sought cover. The aircraft slowly slid down its final approach in the quickly-fading daylight. We watched and waited, almost holding our breath. I remember lighting a cigarette with a hand which was not altogether steady. Then, holding the starboard wing over the ‘missing’ wheel well up, F – touched down, it must have been lightly, on the port wheel only, the engines throttled back to a tick-over. Miraculously, he kept the aircraft straight. We hardly dared look at the protruding cookie. As the Wellington slowed the starboard wing slowly drooped, and finally, at the end of the aircraft’s run, the wing finally scraped the runway, the Wellington slewed around through ninety degrees to starboard and came to a lopsided rest. The fire tender and ‘blood wagon’ raced up, but neither, thankfully, were needed. It would be trite to say that we breathed again but I am sure that there were some of us who in the final seconds of the touch-down and landing run were actually holding our breath. We stood there, the small group of us, on the balcony, potentially exposed to what would have been a blast-wave of killing proportions not only for us, but for many quite far distant from the runway. Perhaps the fact that we stayed to watch was even due a degree of professional interest in the expertise of one of our peers. But the visual memory of F – ‘s landing that evening has remained with me as something at which to marvel. . . . . . . . . . . . . “Oh! Did you know F - , then?” J – asked, that night in the quiet Ops. Room at Breighton. [page break] “Only by sight” I replied, then I told her about the landing. “I will never forget that, I assure you. You knew him, too, then?” I added. J – nodded. “Oh yes, who didn’t? He was quite a character, wasn’t he?” “’Was’?” “Yes. Perhaps you didn’t know he had been killed at --- .” She named an aerodrome not too far distant. Apparently F – had taken off on a non-operational flight. On board was also an A.T.A. girl pilot and the aircraft had, for some unknown reason, crashed, killing everyone on board. J – mentioned that there was a certain theory concerning something which might have been a contributory factor to the tragedy. I will not set down here what that theory was. But I shall continue to remember F – as I knew him at Binbrook, debonair, dashing, cavalier-like and above all, just that bit larger than life, and possessed of flying skills to which few of us could ever hope to aspire. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Knight’s move [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] KNIGHT’S MOVE [/underlined] “One sang in the evening Before the light was gone: And the earth was lush with plenty Where the sun shone. The sound in the twilight Went: and the earth all thin Leans to a wind of winter, The sun gone in. One song the less to sing And a singer less Who sleeps all in the lush of plenty And summer dress.” “Casualty” from “Selected Poems” by Squadron Leader John Pudney. Once I had seen the hangar, intact, black and huge, just over the hedge as I rounded the bend of the lane, everything seemed to fall into place, even after so many years. Everything, except, of course, that J – was gone. I shut my eyes for a moment and forced my thoughts away from her. God knew what became of Pam, and as for Derek, I never heard of him for years after I left Breighton. But now I had, for the first time, come back. Seeking what? I could find no answer to that in my mind, except that I had obeyed some inner compulsion to revisit the place and that somehow it seemed to bring me some peace and calm of spirit to be back there amid the quiet hedges, the ruined buildings, the memories, and the silent, empty sky, where among so many losses I had, with deep feelings of the unique guilt of the survivor, found [page break] my personal happiness when so many had lost everything, for ever. I walked down the empty road in the warm October sunshine, past what remained of the East-West runway, and marvelled at the utter silence. The little river at the edge of the road slipped silently over its green weeds and I remembered Gerry, how he had aborted a takeoff one night, smashed through the hedge and across the road and had finished up with the aircraft’s nose almost in that river. Amazingly, they had missed everything solid and had all walked away from it. I smiled to myself as I recalled how everyone in the Mess had kidded him about it the following morning. The Mess itself was till there, pretty well intact. One or two broken panes in the windows, the buff-coloured walls reflecting the warmth of the sun, the porch by now overgrown with tall weeds around which a bee idly buzzed. Now, no bicycles leaned against its walls, there was no C.O.’s car parked, no battledressed figures walked in and out, calling to one another – there was just the brilliant sunshine and the utter silence. And then, as I visualised the inside of the Mess, its layout, its half-remembered faces; I thought of the events of such another day of sunshine all that time ago. I saw the interior of the anteroom, the small table with the chessmen on their board, the young bomb-aimer sitting opposite me, frowning with concentration as we played, then looking at his watch and standing up reluctantly, the cracked record, “I’ve gotta gal, in Kalamazoo”. “Shall we finish it tomorrow?” I had said to him. . . . . . . . . . . . . My part of the briefing came second, as usual, after the Wingco had told them the target and shown them over the route on the wall-map. Most of the crews weren’t really interested in the industries, population or the other standard Intelligence gen which I served up to them, and I didn’t blame them; their main concern was what the defences were like – and, privately, whether they would get back. They were silent when I pointed out the flak and searchlight belt around the target, and a few night-fighter aerodromes near to their route. There were one or two whistles when I told them [page break] how many aircraft were on that night; it was quite a big effort and craftily organised so that there were two targets, the stream of kites splitting up abreast of and between the two towns, then turning away from each other to attack their respective targets some sixty miles apart. There were also elaborate Mosquito spoof attacks to draw off the enemy fighters from the main force. “We hope that will fox the defences,” I concluded. When briefing was over I left the hubbub and snatches of nervous laughter from the crews and cycled down to the Ops Room in the summer afternoon to try to finish plotting last night’s bombing photos. One of our Halifaxes was on his landing approach, another was on the downwind leg with his undercart lowered. One of their engines was slightly desynchronised and it made a throbbing note above the steady roar. The sun was very bright, the trees were a deep green above the huts and the houses of the village and it was warm. One of the bombing photos was holding us up. There was only a small fragment of ground detail, more or less one block of houses, visible in the usual mess of smoke, cloud, bomb bursts, flak and fires. Pam was having a go at it when I arrived. “Any luck?” I asked, throwing my cap on the table. “Not yet,” she said, “but it must be somewhere near the aiming point because there’s so much going on in the photograph.” We stewed over the mosaic for a time, trying to fit the photo in, which would enable us to discover where the aircraft had dropped his load of bombs. Pam looked along the approach side to the A.P., I took the exit side. Finally, I had it placed. “Oh, good,” Pam said rather wearily, and stretched. I measured the distance carefully. “Can you give him a ring in the Mess, Freda?” I asked the duty Watchkeeper, “he’ll be wanting to know. Tell whoever you speak to that they were about a thousand yards from the A.P., would you?” After that, we generally tidied up from last night’s effort, and as far as we could, from tonight’s preparations. I did a last minute check that the Pundit was in the right place and set to flash the correct letters, and that the resin lights on the aircraft were the correct colour combination. About six o’clock I went down to the Mess, put my feet up and relaxed. There were several battledressed and white sweatered chaps clumping about in their heavy, soft-soled flying boots, trying not to smoke too much, mostly a bit pale and rather quiet. [page break] Dinner was much as usual, no-one had very much to say to anyone else, at least among the crews who were on. Derek came in and said he was going up to relieve Pam on duty. “See you before take-off,” I told him. “What the heck for?” Derek asked, “there’s no need – why don’t you get some sleeping hours in till they come back?” “Oh, I don’t know; I might as well be up there,” I said, not wanting him to know that J – and I had a sort of thing starting. I hoped so, anyhow. She would be taking over from Freda about now. I’d taken her out a couple of times and I thought she was pretty wizard; we seemed to speak the same language. Had to be a bit careful, though, the R.A.F. was touchy about male Officer – W.A.A.F. N.C.O. relationships. You could easily find that one of you was suddenly posted to Sullom Voe or somewhere like that, and the other to Portreath, or worse still, overseas. I went into the anteroom. Someone had the radiogram going. It was Glenn Miller and the Chattanooga choo-choo on Track 29. I settled down with Tee Emm at a table where someone had left the chess board and pieces, and was chuckling over P/O Prune’s latest effort when a voice said, “Do you play?” I looked up. He was a P/O Bomb-aimer, rather stocky, darkish, with his name on the small brown leather patch sewn above the top right-hand pocket of his battledress, his white, roll-necked sweater and half-wing looked rather new, I thought. “Sure,” I said, “but not very well, I’m afraid. I’ll give you a game, though, if you like.” “I’m not very good myself,” he said. As we were setting out the pieces, “Who are you with?” I asked. He named his skipper. “He’s good; flies these Hallies like Spits!” he said, laughing. For an instant, the lines of stress on his face were smoothed out in the snatched and fleeting relaxation of the moment, so that instead of looking like a young man, he looked like a very young one. “Yes, I know the name,” I said, “I think I’ve plotted one or two of your photos recently. How many have you done?” “Six”, he answered. There was nothing I could say to that. Thirty trips was a hell [page break] of a way off when you’d done six. He chose white from the two pawns I held in my closed fists. “Off you go, then,” I said. He opened conventionally enough, pawn to king’s fourth, pawn to queen’s third, and so on, and as we played I could tell we were both about the same calibre, on the poor side of indifferent. After a while, he started looking at his watch a lot and I could see his concentration was beginning to fade, but his knight was going to have my bishop and rook neatly forked, so I knew I was in for a bit of trouble. He sighed and said, “That’s about it for now, I’m afraid, I’ll have to get weaving up to the Flights.” I said, “O.K., then, shall we finish it tomorrow? I’ll make a note of the positions, if you like.” “Yes,” he said, “fine,” and got to his feet. “Thanks for the game.” “Enjoyed it,” I said, and gave him the usual and universal Bomber Command envoi, “Have a good trip.” “Sure, thanks,” he said, gave a half-wave and went out. I watched him go. He looked rather like a schoolboy who had been sent for by the Head. A slightly cracked record on the radiogram was now telling us that someone liked her looks when he carried her books in Kalamazoo. I wondered idly where that was. I made a copy of the position on the chessboard and went out of the Mess. It was a beautiful summer evening, the sun was starting to dip now and there were some streaks of altostratus in the north-west. A faint breeze brought the twittering of sparrows; a blackbird nearer at hand was giving a few clarinet notes, intent on practising the first bar of his eventual good-night song. A Halifax droned over, to the east, high, probably setting off on a night cross-country or a Bullseye. His engines made a hollow, booming roar in the clear evening air. Then the Tannoy came to life with a hum and with a leap of the heart I heard J – ‘s voice come over, telling someone he was wanted at his Flight Office. I cycled up the quiet road through the hamlet, which was companionably and inextricably mixed up with the Station’s huts, and turned right at the tall gable-end of a house on to the narrow concrete road which, in a few hundred yards beyond the W.A.A.F. site, came to the Ops Room. [page break] The sentry gave me a cheery “Good evening, sir,” and I went inside to the strip-lighting, the huge wall-blackboard, the central plotting table and the long desk with the telephones. Derek, J – and little Edith, one of the Int. Clerks, were on duty. I saluted and said, “Hiya, folks, everything under control?” It was. Edith was finishing writing up the captains and aircraft letters on the big blackboard and it looked impressive. You started to imagine the bomb-load from that lot going down on to a built-up area, and what it would do. Then you stopped imagining. I got busy with some paper-work, tying up loose ends and amending some S.D.s, then the clerk made some tea. J – ‘s phone was pretty quiet – it usually was a couple of hours or so before take-off – she was writing a letter, I think, and Derek was sorting out the mosaics alphabetically and sliding them back into the big drawer below the table. “Time we had a new one for Hamburg,” he said, “this one’s about had it.” “So’s Hamburg,” I said, “if it come to that,” and we grinned. We drank tea, smoked and chatted a bit, mostly about our next leave. Derek was whistling “Room 504” off and on, and rather badly. There wasn’t a lot to do now except wait for a scrub, which we knew wouldn’t happen when there was a big summer high over western Europe. Odd calls came in to J – requesting Tannoy messages; she put them out and logged them all. I went outside for a while to look at the sky. The Ops Room was windowless and the lighting and general fug got you down rather after a time, especially as we all smoked like chimneys. It was about nine o’clock. I looked over the cornfield which was just outside the Ops Room door. The corn was ripe, grown high, ready for harvest; the sky was very beautiful, pale green almost in one place, some stars showing, complete stillness. “Calm before the storm,” I thought, rather tritely. I breathed the cooling air gratefully. Somewhere in the distance the blackbird was firing his short bursts of evening song. It was all very peaceful and the war seemed a hell of a long way off. The sentry seemed fidgety, he was probably wishing I would hurry up and go in again so that he could have a quiet smoke himself. [page break] “Nice night,” I said to him. Back in the Ops Room I felt we were completely insulated from the outside world. Until the phone rang. “Ops, Breighton,” J – said. She listened, then put the phone down. “Flying Control,” she said to me, “they’re taxying out. First off should be any minute now.” “O.K.,” I said, “I might as well chalk them up.” I was feeling a little strung-up; it would give me something to do. In a little while the phone rang again. “Ops, Breighton….. right, sir, thank you.” J – turned to me. “B – Baker airborne 2149.” I chalked up the time opposite ‘B’. After that, the phone went at very short intervals, until they had all gone. In the Ops Room we never heard a thing, only the hum of the air-conditioning and the buzz of the strip-lighting. I imagined them doing their gentle climbing turns to port and setting course over the centre of the aerodrome, the Navigators carefully logging the time, the gunners in their turrets watchful for other aircraft, then climbing steadily away towards Southwold where they crossed out for the North Sea, the enemy coast and whatever lay in wait for them beyond, on the other side. When they’d all gone, the Wingco came in for a chat. He was a good type and we all liked him. He and Derek shared an interest in painting, and after a while he took Derek off to the Mess for a drink. There wouldn’t have been much for Derek to do behind his desk, anyhow. “Can you cope?” Derek asked, as he went. “Of course,” I said, hiding my elation that J – and I would be able to have a talk. The clerk slipped off into the Int. Library, I think she sensed that three was a crowd. After a while, the phone rang again. “Ops, Breighton….. yes, thank you, I’ve got that.” She turned to me again. “Flying Control. Early return, F – Fox, starboard inner u/s. I’ll phone the Wingco in the Mess.” While she was doing so, I went outside again. It was quite dark now, and countless stars were showing. They had put the Sandra Lights on for [page break] F – Fox. In a little while I heard him coming from the south, then he came into the circuit with his nav. lights on, flashed ‘F’ on his downward ident. light and slid down on to the runway behind the H.Q. huts, his three engines popping as he throttled back. In the stillness I heard the screech of his tyres as they bit the runway, then his engine-note faded into silence. In a minute or two I heard his bursts of throttle as he taxied into dispersal. He would have jettisoned his load, and most of his petrol, into the sea. J – had logged his time of landing on the board. “I’ve told the Wingco,” she said. We swopped childhoods, parents and early Service days for a while, then I decided to go and have a sleep in the Window Store, on the bench. I must have been tired and slept very soundly, because I was awakened by knocking on the door and Edith’s timid voice calling, “First aircraft overhead, sir.” I shivered as I swung my legs down off the bench and on to the stone floor; I always shivered when I heard those words, wondering how it had gone. Had they had much opposition? That was always my first thought. Had there been much fighter activity? What had the flak been like, and the searchlights? I never thought much about the target; what seemed to matter to me was whether they were all back. I went into the Ops Room and lit a cigarette, passing my case around. Derek was back. “Here’s Rip van Winkle,” he said, “come to muck things up for us.” “Get knotted,” I grinned, “and let’s have my fags back.” He threw my case back at me and I disappointed him by catching it. The phone rang; J – answered it. The first one had landed safely. Derek said, “I’ll get along and start the interrogations, Pam’s on, too.” “O.K., Derek,” I told him, “I’ll be down later,” and he left. He still had “Room 504” on his mind and it still sounded no better. The phone rang again, it was another one landed. They kept coming in steadily and whoever was nearest the blackboard chalked them up. By quarter to six we had them all back but two. I took a quick [page break] look around. The clerk was in the far corner collecting empty cups. I said to J - , quietly, “Can you meet me tonight? Seven o’clock? We’ll go to the Plough, if you like.” She nodded. “Yes,” she breathed, and smiled briefly. She still looked wizard, I thought, even at six o’clock in the morning after a long night duty. For a while we let our thoughts take possession of us. Then the phone broke the silence again. One of the two had landed away, in 3 Group. That left just one outstanding. The minutes ticked by. Then I said the usual thing, one of us always said it at times like this. “He could have landed away, too, and they haven’t told us yet.” But there was actually only fifteen minutes left before his endurance, on the night’s petrol load, ran out. I went outside, restlessly. The Sandra Lights looked desolate in a vivid and rigid cone above the aerodrome, waiting in the silence which had now enveloped everything. Dawn was starting to break. It looked like being another perfect summer morning. Far away, a door slammed and someone whistled, loudly and jauntily. Probably one of the returned crews, just off to bed. The sky, lightening, seemed immense, the stars had faded and the trees were motionless. In a little while I went back inside. “Anything, J - ?” She shook her head. I looked at my watch. Time was up, and more. We were quite quiet for a long while. Then I said, “I was playing chess with his bomb-aimer just before they went. Let’s hope to God they are P.o.W.s”. We still sat, waiting. When I knew it was quite hopeless I said to J – “You’d better phone the Wingco and the Padre. I’m going to see about the photographs. See you this evening, then, goodnight, J - .” “Goodnight, or rather, good morning,” she said. I walked out of the Ops Room into the early morning with a feeling of weariness and desolation. What was it all about? I thought. It was quite cool outside; I reached for a cigarette and my hand found a piece of paper in my pocket. It was the sketch of the chess board. I looked at if for a minute or so, then I said, [page break] “Good luck, wherever you are.” I screwed the paper into a ball and dropped it into the waist-high corn, and I thought of the seven men who might be lying amidst the wreckage of their aircraft somewhere across the sea. It was growing light now and a faint breeze stirred the ripened heads of the wheat. Somewhere, the blackbird was starting to sing. The Sandra lights had been put out. There was nothing left for me to do. I shivered, and turned away. . . . . . . . . . . . . With an effort I dragged my thoughts back to the reality of the present, and I realised it was already time to go. The sun was dazzlingly low, but its warmth still lingered and there was a faint scent of late roses as I walked up through the hamlet, towards the gable-end and the road to the Ops Room. An old man was stiffly tending his patch of front garden, and looked up as I said “Good evening.” “Been a fine day,” he said. He saw my rucksack. “Have you come far?” he added. “Yes,” I said, “I’ve come a very long way,” and I walked on, into the silence and the shadows of the gathering twilight. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] A different kind of love. [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] A DIFFERENT KIND OF LOVE [/underlined “’Tis sure small matter for wonder If sorrow is with one still” (A.E. Housman) Temporization, delaying tactics, putting-off. Call it what you will. I try to justify it be telling myself that whatever one calls it – and I am fairly certain we have all of us been guilty of it at some time – it is a human failing, and the guilt one feels, if one should feel guilt at some action or lack of action if it affects only oneself, has been felt by many another person. And should one indeed experience feelings of guilt if whatever the reason for the “putting-off” it affects only oneself? But I am afraid that in the circumstances which I have finally decided and brought myself to the point of describing, at least one other person must have felt some hurt, almost certainly deep hurt, and this is what has concerned me for a very long time. The thought and the concern I have felt is something which comes into my mind for no apparent reason at intervals of time, like the aching of a doubtful tooth which one knows will prove difficult and extremely painful of extraction. The moral points having been made, it is time for me to elaborate, sparing, I hope, no detail, least of all sparing nothing of the sad story of my own actions which undoubtedly started the whole business. These events, I know, will be re-lived in my mind, as they have been over the years, for days on end, producing invariably feelings of deep sadness and of ineradicable guilt. I think it is worthy of mention that in the closing months of my career in the R.A.F. I was successively Adjutant of two units. The first of these was the unhappiest unit I had encountered, and the second, which followed immediately afterwards was without doubt the happiest one; one where I felt that those around me were like-minded. I went, at the behest of the powers-that-were in South East Asia Command, from one to the other on receipt of the appropriate signal, teleprinted on to paper, simply by walking from one tent to [page break] another on a crowded-to-capacity aerodrome near Rangoon, the Japanese surrender having thankfully taken place a few hours before. I met some of my new fellow-Officers and took to them immediately. First impressions were confirmed over the next days, weeks and months. On the final posting of my R.A.F. career I had arrived on a unit which was the most agreeable I had experienced in six years. I think that was understandable when one considers that I would wake in the mornings knowing that there was no war being fought, that no-one was going to be killed among those around me, no-one was going to go missing on operations and that one would not find an empty bed across one’s room in the morning, no empty chair in the Mess, no letters to be written to next-of-kin. From the tented camp, where conditions were, to put it mildly, primitive, we were, after a few days, put on board a small paddle-steamer and left Rangoon for where we knew not. On this small ship I was to meet people with whom I was to work and play very happily for almost the last year of my service in the R.A.F. and with a few of whom I was to form enduring friendships, now alas, terminated by the inevitable and merciless passage of time. It was on this ship too, where I first became acquainted with the music of Elgar. One morning as we were steaming southwards – we knew that much! – I was coming down a short flight of stairs leading to what, in terms of a house in England, would be described as a hallway or lobby. Some music was being played on a gramophone there and I was so struck by its grave beauty that I stood stock still on the stairway until it had ended. Then, moved by it and marvelling at its beauty I went up to the Equipment Officer who was playing it on his wind-up gramophone. This was at the time of 78 r.p.m. shellac records, of course. I asked him what he had just been playing and he was more than pleased to tell me that it was a movement from Elgar’s Enigma Variations, called Nimrod and explained the significance of that title. Little did I know that I was to hear the same music, in vastly different circumstances very soon, the recollection of which would have the power to move me deeply for years afterwards, not only because of the music itself, but because of the player of it and what the player meant – and still means – to me. [page break] We soon learned that we were heading for the island of Penang, of which most of us had heard, but that was all, as part of Operation Zipper, the British occupation, or rather re-occupation, of what was then Malaya, after the Japanese surrender and withdrawal. We were to be, in fact, the first R.A.F. unit to land in Malaya. And so it was. We arrived at the quayside of Georgetown, the principal town, under the massive shadow of the battleship H.M.S. Nelson, anchored next to us. Over the next few days we found our quarters in an old army cantonment on a wooded hillside, at Sungei Glugor, and took possession of the small aerodrome at Bayan Lepas in readiness for the arrival of a Spitfire squadron and a detachment of two Beaufighters from Burma. We hunted for furniture for the empty and deserted cantonment and found ample in the abandoned dwelling houses on the island. We readily imagined what must have happened to the original occupants during the Japanese occupation. Within days we had the Station operating and thanks to the Royal Signals, in contact with our parent formations at Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. The Spitfires and Beaufighters duly arrived. We were an operational formation. Now that I was settled into a permanent location I had the time and facilities to write a letter to J – every day, as she did to me. We had been engaged to be married for just under two years and there was a clear agreement between us that we would not be married until after we were both settled into civilian life again. Never did either of us doubt the promises made to one another and despite the time and distance which separated us, neither of us doubted the fidelity or behaviour of the other. J – was a W.A.A.F. Sergeant on an operational bomber station, now thankfully converted to peaceful purposes, and she was surrounded by some hundreds of both W.A.A.F. and R.A.F. personnel. As for me, my surroundings were peopled exclusively by men. The relationship between J – and I was firmly founded on mutual trust. It had been decided that we should participate in a Service of Thanksgiving in one of the churches in Georgetown, and the arrangements were soon made, as were the arrangements for a victory march-past of all the armed services in Georgetown’s Victoria Park. [page break] I suppose there were over 100 of us to attend the service, which was held in the Chinese Methodist Church on a pleasant evening. A sizeable Chinese contingent were also present, men and women, all beautifully dressed in white. I was near to the right hand end of a pew fairly near to the front of the church, and as I took my place the organ was being played. To my amazement and delight I immediately recognised the tune as none other but ‘Nimrod’, which I had only recently come to know and which had made such an impression on me on the boat coming down from Rangoon. Smiling to myself, I looked up and to my right to see if it was one of our number who was the organist. My further surprise was that it was not anyone that I knew, but someone I took to be a Chinese youth in a white surplice. And then I saw that I was again mistaken; the organist was a Chinese girl in a long white dress. As she finished ‘Nimrod’ she moved almost seamlessly into a Chopin E Minor Prelude whose tune, full of yearning, almost brought tears into my eyes. The service itself was jointly conducted by a Chinese clergyman about 50 years old and of almost ascetic appearance, and our own Methodist Padre. During the service an announcement was made that light refreshments would be served in the church hall afterwards and I determined to be there, partly from personal preference and partly because as Wing Adjutant it would obviously be my duty not to return immediately to the cantonment at Glugor but to show a degree of sociability towards the local people who were our hosts. It dawned on me that since I had left England more than six months previously I had never seen a member of the opposite sex in that time, nor even heard a female voice. My mother, on my embarkation leave and J – immediately prior to my going on leave, had been the last two women to whom I had spoken. I wondered, as, the service over, I went into the fairly crowded church hall, whether the girl organist would be there so that I could tell her how I had enjoyed and been moved by her choice of music. She was indeed there, one of those serving refreshments at a line of tables at one side of the hall. I was extremely pleased, went straight across to her, and smiling, spoke to her, complimenting [page break] her on her playing. She smiled depracatingly [sic] and brushed away with her hand one side of the curtain of her collar-length black hair from her face, a gesture which, so characteristic of her, I have recalled very many times since. Her voice was soft, musical and charmingly accented, reminding me forcibly of J – ‘s own voice. She apologised for not having played well; she said she was out of practice. These few seconds were the start of an utterly delightful, all-too-brief, but quite unforgettable friendship. It became a friendship, and only that. Nothing more. During the time that I knew her I never once touched her, not even to shake hands when eventually I left Malaya for good. (‘For good’? I was in two minds about that. I felt I was being torn apart). My promises to J – were unbreakable and at no time did I think even of the possibility of breaking them. We were engaged to be married; we would be married as soon as it could be managed when I returned to the U.K. Strangely, I have only just discovered some poignantly applicable words in a chanson by the 14th century Guillaume de Machaut – ‘…. in a foreign land, You who bear sweetness and beauty White and red like a rose or lily …. The radiance of your virtue Shines brighter than the Pole Star …. Fair one, elegant, frank and comely, Imbued with all modesty of demeanour.’ I was not alone in making a friend in the local community; there were at least two other Officers to my knowledge who formed attachments of one sort or the other while we were on the island. And at home? J - , in her daily letters to me occasionally mentioned going to dances on the aerodrome where she was stationed and I presumed that obviously she danced in the arms of men. But I trusted her as implicitly as I hope she trusted me. She mentioned two men, both Australian pilots, by their nicknames. One of them was killed, with all his crew, when they crashed within sight of the aerodrome on returning from an op. No reason for the crash was ever [page break] established. But to my discredit I could not help feeling a twinge - - perhaps more than that – of jealousy whenever I read their names in her letters. And some time after J – and I were married, while we were once talking about wartime days and nights, quite out of the blue she said, only half-jokingly, “If I hadn’t married you I would have married an Australian”. I remember that I smiled but said nothing. What could I say? I find it difficult now to describe Chiau Yong adequately as I saw her then and as I think of her now, without using trite phrases or words which in this age of cynicism would be sneered at or greeted with unbelieving or sarcastic laughter. But then, and over the weeks which followed I was charmed by her placid nature, her smiling, childlike innocence, her undoubted beauty and her impish sense of humour. That evening in the church hall, as I chatted to her, standing as we were at opposite sides of the table of refreshments, I felt a growing happiness which I had not known for a long time stealing over me and calming me, as though the war, with all the tragedies which I had seen and experienced, had never taken place. When, regretfully, it was time for me to go I had learned her name and that she was the daughter of the clergyman whose church this was. I had also, hesitantly and tentatively, expecting nothing except possibly a polite rebuff, asked if I might see her again by coming to hear her organ practice, whenever that might be. She shyly consented and I felt, as I left the hall, that my feet were hardly touching the ground. I think I must have been smiling foolishly, but fortunately no-one commented as we boarded the gharries to return to Glugor. As often as I possibly could I went to the church and sat in a pew near to the front, where I could see her sitting at the organ console, while she practised, content to listen to the music she made and to watch her as she played, quite unperturbed that I was there, a few feet away from her, listening and watching. Sometimes I went with her into her home, where she played the piano for me. And often we talked. Her English was truly excellent, somewhat reminiscent in her use of words and phrases of the Victorian era, but none the less lucid and charming to hear spoken [page break] in her soft, lilting voice. We talked about the music she played; she asked what sort of music I liked. We talked a little about our respective backgrounds. She was keen to learn anything about England. I mentioned one or two of my wartime experiences but asked for no details of hers or of her family’s under the Japanese occupation. I developed an interest to scratch the surface of knowledge of the Chinese language. Her own dialect, and that of her mother, who spoke no English, unlike her father and her sister, was Hokkien. She and her sister, who joined us on one occasion when we sat talking, amused themselves and entertained me by translating my name into written Chinese ideographs, which they pronounced as ‘Yo-min’. Whenever Chiau Yong wished to draw my attention to something or ask me a question, it was always prefaced by her saying ‘Mister Yo-min….’ . I suppose in her strict upbringing, which I assumed she had had, the use of my Christian name would have been seen as unduly familiar. She taught me the numerals from one to ten and chuckled delightfully behind her small hand at my unavailing efforts to pronounce the words for ‘one’ and ‘seven’ correctly. To my ears they sounded identical; I am afraid that I was an obtuse pupil. I asked her about her own name; she told me that it meant ‘shining countenance’ which, I thought, could not have been more appropriate. As to her age, I never enquired. I would have put her as being slightly younger than I. I was 24 at the time, she would be possibly around 20, I thought. I met her parents on at least one occasion. They very kindly invited me to come to their home for an evening meal, which I was glad and honoured to do. Two things stand out clearly in my mind about that occasion: the number of different languages spoken around the table and the sense of peacefulness which surrounded us. Her mother, a quiet middle-aged lady, simply dressed in black, spoke only Hokkien which, if she addressed me, was translated by Chiau Yong, as was my reply to her mother. Her father, the minister, spoke excellent English in a calm and measured manner. Her sister, Chiau Gian and her rather quiet younger brother spoke English too, for my benefit. Chiau Yong, who had told me that she was learning Mandarin, the classical Chinese tongue, spoke in English, of course, to me, in Hokkien to her mother and in Malay to the houseboy who appeared from time to time on his domestic errands. [page break] After I had visited their home on several occasions to see Chiau Yong and to hear her play, I was slightly surprised when one afternoon, as we were talking together, a pilot from the Spitfire squadron which had arrived came into the room. I knew D – P – well enough to talk to, but I thought, in my limited understanding of such things, he did not fit into my preconceived idea of what a fighter pilot should be like. He was, from what I had seen of him in the Mess, not only slightly older-looking than the other pilots, with somewhat thinning hair, but also of a quieter disposition than most of the others. However, a Spitfire pilot he was, whatever ideas I had formed about the differences between them and bomber pilots such as I had been. I gathered he had come to see Chiau Yong’s father, and not being interested in the reason for his visit I promptly forgot about him after we had exchanged polite enough greetings on this and on one or two further occasions when he came to the house to see Mr. Ng. I knew that my time on the island and indeed in the R.A.F. must shortly come to an end. Being an administrative officer, as Adjutant, I could almost forecast when my time would come to ‘get on the boat’ and while others around me were obviously in a fever of impatience to get back to ‘civvy street’, as it was always called, I found my own state of mind to be more in the nature of calm acceptance, knowing that while I would be returning to J - , whom I loved and to whom I would be married, somehow, somewhere and at some time, I had spent a quarter of my life and almost all my adult life in R.A.F. uniform and would find things difficult or indeed incomprehensible. At about this time our unit, 185 Wing, received orders to move across to the mainland, into Province Wellesley, to become R.A.F. Station Butterworth, leaving very good and well-appointed accommodation for something not quite so commodious. But there was a very good ferry service between Butterworth (which local people knew as Mata Kuching) and Georgetown, so I was still within easy reach of the town, its cafes, good sports facilities which were well used by us all, and above all, still within easy reach of Chiau Yong. Towards the end of my service at Butterworth, on one visit to her, she suggested that we take a cycle ride to see some nearby parts [page break] of the island which were strange to me, and this we did for a couple of hours, along deserted roads, up hillsides, almost always under the cover of trees with their blossoms, so exotic to my eyes, with their birdsong, and the chattering and calling of monkeys and chipmunks. The idyll had to end. I think my unconscious mind has, as a defence mechanism, obliterated the recollection of our goodbyes, for I can remember not one single thing about it. It is as though it had never happened. But it must have done, of course. I returned to England, a stranger to a strange land. Standards had changed, attitudes had changed, there was no longer the feeling of one-ness, of co-operation and togetherness which the war had engendered. It seemed now as though it were ‘every man for himself and damn the others’. I let a decent interval of two or three days pass as I settled in at home with my parents then I travelled south to be with J - . It was a happy but strange reunion. Strange to see her in civilian clothes, strange to see her leave to catch an early train to Brighton to work for the South Eastern Gas Board. All our talk was of when, where and how we were going to be married and where we would live. In the end, with the willing help of my parents, I found very basic accommodation in my home town, as I had agreed with J – that I needed to return to my old occupation and to obtain a necessary qualification as soon as possible. J – and I were married in the autumn from her aunt’s home in Surrey and after our honeymoon in Edinburgh we were thrust into the realities of married life in cramped surroundings, comprehensive rationing, with a shared kitchen, and where even the basics of living necessitated stringent saving on my salary, with all of which J – coped amazingly well. I had to study hard in the evenings in the same small living room where J – was usually reading or knitting, deprived of the radio so as not to disturb me. Settling down at work was none too easy. My superiors were a man who had somehow missed the first World War and who was too old for the Second, his deputy, who had tried hard to dissuade me from volunteering for aircrew on the grounds that I would be probably be instrumental in killing people and who himself, had he not been reserved from military service as a key employee would have been compelled to describe himself as a conscientious objector. There were also two ex-R.A.F. men, who in six years of service had attained the respective ranks of Corporal [page break] and of Leading Aircraftman. Perhaps because I had outranked them it became apparent that any particularly physically dirty or awkward job was allocated to me. I accepted the situation as a continuation of military discipline, as I did when the office clerk, a lady of mature years, when I politely declined to do part of her far less than arduous work for her (so that she would have more time for gossiping, I suspected), told me rather angrily and unimaginatively that since “I’d been away” I had changed, which I thought was something of an understatement. I never talked of my wartime experiences and no-one asked me a single question. All they knew was that I had flown aeroplanes, been over Germany and finished my career in the Far East. The rest was silence. Having neither a telephone nor a car I kept in touch with friends I had made in the R.A.F. by letter and rarely did a week go by without news from someone, either in the U.K. or some other part of the globe. My correspondents, of course, included Chiau Yong, whom I had told in a letter that I was finally married, and had given her my address. I certainly had not forgotten her and whenever I thought of her I smiled mentally at the remembrance of her charming company and her music-making. At this time, although of course there was no means of knowing it, J – was sickening for a serious, potentially fatal illness, which within months was to take her into sanatoria for more than a year of her young life. Whether this slow decline in her health, coupled with the novelty of her surroundings and circumstances contributed to the short and low-key breakfast table conversation which took place between us I do not know, but I suspect it might have done so. I remember vividly that it was a Saturday morning. There were two letters for us, one for J – and one for me, which, to my delight I saw was from Chiau Yong. We opened our respective mail at the breakfast table. The letter was typical of Chiau Yong’s nature – pleasant, equable, written in beautiful English and containing some mildly jocular reference to something I must have once said to her about settling down into civilian life. It contained no word of love; it ended without those conventional little crosses which were the well-known signs for kisses. I would have been astonished beyond measure if it had done so. J – had finished reading her own letter. I smiled across the table and said “From Chiau Yong. Read it, darling”. [page break] She took it without a word and read it expressionlessly. I had no inkling of what was to come as she handed the letter unsmilingly back to me. Looking directly at me, she said “I don’t think it’s right that she should be writing to a married man like that and I think you should tell her so”. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I was completely taken aback with shock and surprise. I had known J – for more than three years during which time we had seen eye-to-eye on almost everything and no word of disagreement had ever passed between us. But I recovered my composure quickly and knowing that one’s wife must come first in everything, I said “All right”. I immediately left the table, got the writing pad and sitting down again in front of J – I wrote the cruellest words that I have ever in my whole life composed. My opening words are to this day burned into my memory. “Dear Chiau Yong”, I wrote, “In England, a married man does not write letters to another girl”. And I continued briefly that the correspondence between us must now stop. It took about three minutes. I handed the letter wordlessly to J – who read it and gave it back to me with a nod. “Yes,” she said. Chiau Yong’s name was never again mentioned during our married life, but I cannot and would not pretend that, happily married as we were for almost 40 years, I never thought of Chiau Yong. For I have thought of her often and I have been deeply and bitterly troubled that I must have been the cause of her suffering so much shock and pain so unexpectedly and, in my eyes, without any reason, and certainly not by any misdeed of hers, intentional or otherwise. I have prayed again and again over the years, and still do, that she might have eventually forgiven me. I never saw her again; I never heard from her again. Whether she is alive or dead, was or is happy or unhappy, I do not know, but I do know that she brought light and sweetness in unbelievable measure into my life and that our short and beautiful friendship was as innocent in every respect as any relationship could be. [page break] There is a curious and disturbingly bitter postscript to this unhappy episode in my life. J –‘s parents lived in Worthing and naturally she wanted to see them and her unmarried younger sister whenever she could. We had not much money, but by dint of hard saving we were able to spend two or three weeks every summer, usually during the Worthing Cricket Week, with her parents. One summer’s day, not all that many years before she died, J – and I were walking through the park near to the Worthing sea front. We left the park and crossed the road, going towards Lancing, still near to the sea. On the corner stood a church whose denomination I did not know – until I read on a notice board erected near to the church door, “Minister – D. P. –“ I looked away quickly before my shock and astonishment became too obvious. It could only have been the Spitfire pilot from Penang who used to visit Chiau Yong’s father, presumably for some sort of guidance or instruction as to his post war vocation. If things had been other than they were I would have gone immediately with J – to seek him out, to talk over the times when we first met, but of course Chiau Yong’s name would have come into our conversation. I walked on in silence, as though nothing untoward had happened, but with my mind in a turmoil. So J – never knew about D – P – , about his nearness and of the memories I still had of sunlit afternoons in the church hall in Georgetown where I would sit talking with that beautiful young girl in her long white dress. Was I in love with Chiau Yong? Can one be in love with two people at once? Was that possible when I never stopped loving J - ? These are questions I have many times asked myself. The only self-convincing conclusion to which I can reasonably arrive is while there was no element whatsoever of the physical aspect of love in my relationship with her, yet I feel that the affection which I held and hold for her, whatever her feelings might have been for me, was more than mere friendship, that this was a different kind of love. Christ exhorted us to love one another. We were both Christians and I think that this is what He meant us to feel for one another. [page break] And so now, very often, while I have been writing this belated account of something which has haunted me for a very long time, and very often since I wrote that terrible, wounding letter, I remember with a sort of poignant gratitude and happiness, bitter-sweet happiness, the beauty of her nature and her innocent sweetness and I thank God for the gift of happiness which she gave me. But at the same time I feel a profound and bitter guilt and sadness, knowing that the dreadful hurt which she must have suffered and perhaps for years remembered was due to no fault of hers but was entirely due to me. . . . . . . . . . . . Mi querer tanto vos quiere, muy graciosa donzella, que por vos mi vida muere y de vos no tiene querella. Tanto sois de mi querida con amor i lealtad, que de vos non se que diga viendo vestra onestad. Si mi querer tanto vos quiere, causalo que sois tan bella, que por vos mi vida muere y de vos no tiene querella. (Enrique, d. 1488) [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Sun on a chequered tea-cosy [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] O where are you going, Sir Rollo and Sir Tabarie, Sir Duffy and Sir Dinadan, you four proud men, With your battlecries [sic] and banners, Your high and haughty manners, O tell me, tell me, tell me, Will you ride this way again? (School Speech Day song, 1936.) [page break] [underlined] SUN ON A CHEQUERED TEA-COSY [/undelrined] It was Zhejian green tea. I poured the water on, placed the lid carefully on the pot and took the tea-cosy in my left hand. The sun through the kitchen window shone brightly across its red and green checks. And stirred some memory, deep down in the recesses of my mind. Those checks had some significance, somewhere from a long way back. I stood there, looking down at the covered teapot and let myself relax until the realisation slowly dawned. I was looking again at the band around Ivor’s R.A.F. peaked cap when he was an apprentice at Halton, before the war, and I found myself thinking back to the times I had walked with him along the cliffs, hearing the gulls screaming overhead and wheeling in the sunlight, laughing with him as he sang “Shaibah Blues”, with the waves crashing on to the rocks below. I never thought I would find myself in the position of trying to do a small thing to defend Ivor, after all this time, but, of course, there’s no one else left to do it now. Looking back over it, although so many years have passed since H – wrote what he did, it still seems to me that they were very cruel words to use, especially as Ivor had no means of defending himself, no right of reply nor of appeal. It was something so barbed that it eventually acquired, through its re-telling, the significance and nature of a legend, and in the perverse way of things it elevated Ivor to the status of a minor hero. But all the same, at the time it took place I could see it had made a deep and lasting impression on him, young and resilient as he was. And now, to me, at any rate, H – ‘s words about Ivor have acquired a poignancy which can never to expunged. Ivor need not, of course, have let anyone into the secret; one didn’t do that sort of thing, very often, at school, in case it was thought that one was being sissy or trying to attract attention and sympathy, but it was sufficient to indicate to me, and to John, I believe, who was there at the time, how deeply it had struck home, when Ivor approached us one day on the Second Field, before school went in. [page break] It was the beginning of the Autumn term. The field behind the woodwork room looked bare and open without the cricket nets; the marks of the bowlers’ run-ups and of the batting block-holes could still be seen. The rugby pitch, away down the slight slope, looked very green and inviting with its newly painted posts and flawlessly straight white lines. During the winter months I lived for rugby and thought of little else; scholastic subjects took a poor second place. As was the custom, about half the school were engaged in punting a single rugger ball around, more or less at random, before lessons started, competing with one another to catch it then punt it as far as one could again. It sounds, and looked, I suppose, pointless. But it was rare that anyone in any match missed catching a kick by the opposition, and no-one at all would dream of letting the ball bounce before he attempted to take it. I was squinting up into the sun at the flight of the ball when I heard someone call, “Hey! Yoicks!” I turned to see Ivor. John, who was nearby, grinned when he saw him and came over, with his rather stiff-legged, rocking walk. Ivor and I exchanged the usual new-term greetings and repartee – where had we been, had we seen the latest laurel and Hardy picture, and so on. Then, surprisingly, for the old term was now but a hazy memory, Ivor said, “What was your report like?” “My report?” I repeated in astonishment. “Yeah, what was it like?” Ivor repeated, attempting a casual nonchalance. I was surprised at his interest in that, because Ivor, more so than I, perhaps, was not particularly scholastically minded. He had the build of an athlete, taller than me by four or five inches, heavier by almost a stone, with dark, short-cropped hair, a freckled face and a pugnacious jaw. He moved with the natural athlete’s springy lope. He was a more than adequate boxer, a hard-working and aggressive lock forward and, during the summer, a forthright, attacking middle order batsman, as well as being a bowler of fearsome pace and hostility, if rather lacking in accuracy. “What was it like, then, your report?” he repeated insistently. To be truthful, I could hardly remember much about it; I took little interest in it, apart from my French result and the comments opposite “Games”. My parents rarely commented on it either, except to tell me, with some regularity, that I would have to pull my socks up. “Oh, all right, I suppose,“ I said off-handedly to Ivor. “I was top in French,” I added rather smugly. He ignored that. [page break] “What did H – have to say – about your Speech Training?” I looked at him in amazement. Speech Training? It just didn’t count; there was no exam., no placings, just remarks on the term’s progress, or lack of it. For a short while around this period of time, the powers-that-were quite rightly decided that we should be put on the path towards becoming at least partly comprehensible in our speech to someone who might live more than half-a-dozen miles away. And Mr. H - , as a recent graduate from Oxbridge, was deputed to perform this function. It must be said that he did so with rather bitter sarcasm, delivered under a thin veil of feigned jocularity, which did little to impart in us either the ability, or indeed the desire to speak our mother tongue in a widely acceptable form. In fact, it had, in some cases, where the pupil concerned was either of a rebellious or strongly independent nature, quite the reverse effect, as toes were, metaphorically speaking, firmly dug in. Into this category Ivor fell; he took very personally and very much to heart the barbed remarks directed at him during the rather tedious classes in Speech Training, and in the end, it was obvious to everyone that he was adopting an attitude verging on passive resistance to H – ‘s instruction. It seemed that Ivor’s was the proverbial duck’s back off which the pure water of H – ‘s tuition flowed unheeded. Ivor seized me, in mock anger, by the lapels of my blazer. “C’mon, c’mon!” he exclaimed in his best Humphrey Bogart accents, “Come clean, y’rat!” “Well,” I said, rather tired of the subject by now, “if you must know, I think he said something like ‘fairly good’. I didn’t get myself told off by my parents, anyhow, so it can’t have been too bad. But why, anyhow? What’s all the fuss about?” Ivor’s eyes narrowed and he looked around him before, dropping his voice, he said to John and me, “Do you know what the rotter put on mine?” “No,” I said, somewhat obviously. “Well, on mine, he said, ‘Seems incapable of sustained effort’, the so-and-so. My Dad played merry hell about it, threatened to [page break] stop my pocket-money and goodness knows what.” “I say, it is a bit thick, though, isn’t it, H – saying a rotten thing like that? I mean to say – “ I left the sentence unfinished; I felt that H – ‘s remark was a bit much. Surely he could have simply said ‘fairly good’ or ‘could do better’? They were the customary form of words. But this, well, it was rather damning. Both John and I made sympathetic noises, then John passed around his wine gums. I let Ivor have the black one and we chewed them in thoughtful silence, each of us meditating on the rat-ishness of H - . The next time I caught the ball I passed it hard to Ivor and he gave vent to his feelings with a tremendous punt which almost cleared the fence by the Art School. . . . . . . . . . . . . At that age, memories are short, and mine was no exception. I cannot speak for Ivor, of course; I suppose that somewhere inside that stubborn, defiant head of his a resentment still burned, and as far as H – was concerned, while it would be quite unfair to say that he had it in for Ivor, it was apparent that he singled him out with some slight relish as the object of any cutting remarks he felt inclined to make concerning our defective pronunciation. But it was something which, to be honest about it, did not loom very large in my life. Perhaps twice a week, during the Speech Training lessons I would look covertly, with mingled anticipation and apprehension, at the scornfully sarcastic H – and at a reddening Ivor, his lower lip jutting stubbornly, as the temperature of the atmosphere rose between them. But my Autumn term was dominated by the fact that I was picked to play for the Junior House fifteen. I knew, of course, that Ivor’s eldest brother was in the Royal Air Force; from time to time he mentioned him, proudly, and looking back, I realise that I never knew his first name, he was to Ivor, simply ‘my brother’. Somehow, it lent them both a great deal of dignity, I think. Ivor would also tell us the latest Station his brother was on, their romantic-sounding names supplying, as it were, a coloured backdrop to the anonymity of ‘my brother’ in his coarse, high-necked airman’s tunic and peaked cap pulled down on his brow, [page break] as I saw him in my imagination, marching in a squad of men – I did not yet know they were called ‘flights’ – across a vast parade ground. “He’s on a course at St. Athan, just now,” Ivor would tell us, or, “My brother’s been posted to Drem,” or again, “He’s at Scampton.” What his brother did, exactly, we never knew, nor thought to ask, it was sufficient that he inhabited and was part of a picturesque, far-off and dashing world, greatly removed in every way from our monotonous and rather dreary provincial town. One day, Ivor came up to John and me and said, proudly, “My brother’s been posted overseas, he’s gone to Aden.” John said, mischievously, “Will he be wearing a fez?” and had to dodge the powerful left swing which Ivor pretended to aim with serious intent at him. On the strength of that news, John and I took to calling Ivor “Ali”, but we could tell he didn’t much like it, and as he was still the target of H – ‘s jibes we thought he had sufficient to contend with, so we eventually dropped it. It was during the Christmas holidays when I was, for want of something better to do, in our sitting room playing the piano rather loudly and very inaccurately, that my mother put her head around the door. “You’re not concentrating,” she said, “I can tell, you know. But there’s someone here for you, do you want me to bring him in?” “Who is it?” I asked, glad of the interruption. “I think he said his name was Bradley,” she replied. “Oh, it must be Ivor, then,” I said, feeling much less bored and getting up from the piano. I went to the front door. Ivor was standing there with an expression of elaborate unconcern on his face. “Hello, Yoicks,” he greeted me. “Hiya,” I said, “what are you doing here?” I thought perhaps he might want to borrow a book, or something. “I was just going for a walk along the cliffs – want to come?” This surprised me slightly as he wasn’t by any means a regular friend of mine away from school; there were a group of five or six of us who lived near to one another and who tended to congregate [page break] on our bikes in our immediate neighbourhood; Ivor lived all of three-quarters of a mile away in quite another part of the town, separated from our district by a railway line. “Sure,” I said, glad of the distraction, “just hang on, I’ll shove my coat on.” As I was doing so, “Mother!” I called, “I’m just going along the cliffs with Ivor.” “Mind you don’t get cold,” she said, “Have you got your coat on?” I rolled my eyes at Ivor, who grinned understandingly. “Yes, Mam,” I said, in a long-suffering voice, and shut the door quickly behind me. We strode away. When we arrived at the cliff-tops, the cold easterly wind was smashing the rollers against the rocks below and tugged at our overcoats as we walked. Until then we had talked of the usual things, what we had had for Christmas presents, the “flicks”, as Ivor always called them – a word learned from his brother, perhaps? – and how we had been passing the time during the holidays. “My brother’s in Aden,” Ivor said, “did I tell you?” I said yes, he had told us, how was he getting along? “Great,” he said, “but it’s bloody hot out there. They’re all wondering what this bloke Mussolini’s going to do, he keeps talking about – what’s its name? – Abyssinia, or some place?” I wasn’t greatly interested in the comical figure of the Italian dictator, comical, that is, as he appeared to us, or as he was portrayed to us. So I merely grunted something non-committal. Ivor said abruptly, “I’m leaving. I thought I’d tell you.” “You’re what?” I shouted above the noise of the sea, “You’re leaving? Leaving school? But you can’t!” “Oh, yes I can, though,” he replied with a grin of triumph, “my Dad’s been to the Town Hall to check up.” “But what are you going to do?” I asked, now all agog. He used an expression I heard then for the first time, on that cold and windswept cliff path, one which, when I hear it, inevitably brings to mind Ivor, his freckled face pink with the cold, as he proudly said, “I’m going to join the Raf.” [page break] The penny didn’t drop. It must have been the cold. “The what?” I said, “What’s the Raf?” He punched my shoulder playfully. Fortunately he was nearer the cliff-edge than I. “C’mon, yer mug, it’s the R.A.F., of course. What else did you think?” “Oh, yes, of course,” I replied, recovering my balance. “When’re you going, then?” “Soon as I can. End of next term, prob’ly. I’m going to be a Boy Apprentice at Halton!” He squared his broad shoulders. A vision of Oliver Twist with his empty porridge bowl held out in front of him floated into my head. ‘Boy Apprentice’ sounded rather like someone who was being exploited, ill-treated. I am sure I was wrong, but the picture remained. But I grinned and said, “You might get out to Aden with your brother.” “Hope so,” he said wistfully, “but he’ll prob’ly be posted again before that. Anyhow, that’s what I’m doing. I’m leaving as soon as I can. No more speech training for me!” We laughed. Two gulls wheeled noisily overhead, their screaming cut across the noise of the sea and of the wind. Ivor aimed his fingers, pointed like a pistol, at them and clicked his tongue very loudly, twice. He was good at that. “Gotcher!” he exclaimed. . . . . . . . . . . . . The Spring term came and went. Ivor, as they would put it nowadays, kept a low profile as far as H – was concerned, and worked assiduously at every subject, even Speech Training. At the end of term he quietly left us. I don’t even remember saying ‘cheerio’ to him. We were young, you see, and quite without sentiment. Then it was summer, and the nets went up again. To my surprise I was elected Junior House cricket captain and became rather insufferably swollen-headed about it. It was on a Saturday afternoon that summer when I saw him again. I was sitting at home, reading, when a shadow passed the window, there was the sound of heavy footsteps and someone knocked at the door. I heard the door-knocker flap loosely as my mother answered it, then the sound of conversation. [page break] “It’s your friend,” mother said, “the one in the Air Force.” I hurried to the door. Ivor stood there, smiling broadly, resplendent in his uniform, heavy boots shining brilliantly, his cap carrying the chequered band of the Halton Cadet. “Hiya, Ivor!” I said. (I almost called him ‘Ali’ and only just corrected myself in time.) “Hiya, Yoicks! How about comin’ for a walk? I’m on a forty-eight.” I had no idea what that was but I went to tell my mother where I was going. “Isn’t he smart?” she smiled quietly, “he looks well in his uniform.” We set off for the cliffs, in the sunshine. I noticed he did not lope along now, he marched. He seemed taller than I remembered him, bronzed and deep-chested, harder. We exchanged news. In one way he seemed to be very grown-up but in another, he was still my form-mate, furrowing his brow at some problem of Algebra. “What’s a forty-eight, by the way?” I asked. “Just a forty-eight hour pass.” “You haven’t got much time at home, then, have you? All that way from Halton and you’ll have to be back again inside two days?” “Sure,” he said, airily and confidently, “it’s a piece of cake.” That was another new expression; I stored it for future use. “Where’s your brother just now? Still in Aden?” “No, he’s been posted to Shaibah; bet you don’t know where that is.” I shook my head. “never heard of it before,” I said. “Middle East,” Ivor said proudly, “Iraq – getting his knees brown good and proper.” He started to sing joyfully what I later knew to be the anthem of all overseas R.A.F. men, “Shaibah Blues”. Then he ripped into several verses of “Charlotte the Harlot”, and while, having been very strictly brought up, I didn’t know the meaning of some of the expressions, I gathered from their anatomical connections that it was not the sort of thing one would sing at home. At least not at my home. But I smiled rather sheepishly when he’d finished. I said, “Do you like it, in the Raf?” (I hadn’t forgotten.) [page break] “It’s great,” he said decisively, “bloody great.” He slapped me hard on the shoulder. “It’s a great life if you don’t weaken, Yoicks!” “What do you do?” “Oh, square-bashing, P.T., lectures – I’m going to be a Flight Mechanic.” I could see he was as happy as a sandboy, it shone out of him. He was alert, confident, buoyant, a complete contrast to the rebellious and scowling youth who had reluctantly forced himself to stand and, red-faced, chant, “the rain in Spain.” “that’s fine, then,” I said, “but we don’t half miss you in the scrum.” He never mentioned H – ‘s name. . . . . . . . . . . . . Then, of course, the fuse which had been smouldering in Europe for six years finally detonated the bomb, and everything blew up in our faces. Not many of us were at all surprised. Although I and nearly all our little crowd who lived nearby had left school and were settling into our various jobs, as soon as Munich had come along I pushed my studying to one side. I knew there was no point in it now. It was going to be, at the very least, somewhat interrupted. So I, and my friends, played a lot of games, went to a lot of flicks, cycled a lot, and, out of working hours, lived our lives to the full, as far as we could. I started to take a girl out. Her name was Lilian, and she was extremely beautiful. When the Battle of Britain was on I went into the R.A.F. One of my leaves, much later, coincided with one of Ivor’s, and he called at hour house, out of the blue. This time, as we were men, we shook hands firmly. He looked me up and down. “I’m bloody well not going to call you ‘sir’,” he said. “You’d bloody well better not try,, either,” I replied, “or I’ll stick you on a fizzer!” He swung a playful punch at me, which, knowing Ivor, I was half-expecting. I dodged it and clouted him in the midriff, hard enough to make him wince. “You rotten sod!” he gasped, “come on, let’s have a walk on the [page break] cliffs!” I handed him a Players’, we lit up and strode away. The cliffs were partly wired off as an anti-invasion measure but we managed to get near enough to hear the same waves crashing on to the same rocks, and to smell the salt air as we walked. Until I looked at us, I felt nothing had changed; then I knew it had, really, and that you could never, ever, put the clock back to what had been. It was about this time that the inevitable, impersonal and cruelly clinical process of the dissection of our little crowd began. Norman was unfit for military service because of his deplorable eyesight. He was working for one of the Government Departments in London when a German bomb killed him. Peter, who lived in the next house down the street, and whose father had been drowned at sea a couple of years before, went into the R.A.F., became a Navigator, and was killed when his Wellington, from Finningley, crashed one night. I visited his mother on my first leave after it happened. She was in a state of near-hysteria at mention of his name, and bitter, it must be said, that everything seemed to be going well for me. She did not know, of course, about my crew. I left her staring into the small fire, locked in her private world of abject misery. Then there was Jack, who was also an only son, strangely enough, also a Navigator on Wellingtons, also killed in a night crash. By the time Alan, whom I had met in London while I was on my Intelligence course, had qualified as a Radar Operator on Beaufighters, the Germans had ceased flying over England at nights and he was transferred to non-operational flying. George also went into the R.A.F.., qualified as a pilot, then, almost immediately, the war ended. He emigrated to the U.S.A., where he had been trained. Connie and I had a few months together at Moreton-in-the-Marsh, until I was grounded for good. I left him there, bumped into him once more, on leave, then learned of his death. He had crashed his Stirling, towing a glider, over England. When it was all over, I asked Alan to be my best man. I would have done so anyhow, but in practical terms I had no choice – there was no-one left in our crowd now but he and I. [page break] So much had happened since I had last seen Ivor that he rarely had entered my thoughts. There was little reason for him to have done so, as he was a Fitter, in a pretty safe ground job in the R.A.F. Like thousands of other friends, we had been separated by the war and we would either bump into each other on some R.A.F. station, or in some outlandish place in the Far East, or eventually, we’d see each other back in the U.K. When he did enter my head occasionally, I thought perhaps he might have met and married a girl from some other part of the country, or, like George, had seen service in foreign parts and emigrated. I visualised him in a fez, thought about John’s remark about his brother, and smiled to myself at the happy recollection. But gradually, Ivor faded out of my mind. Until I bumped into a chap who owned a shop, and who had been in our form at school. He had lived within a few hundred yards of Ivor. He, also, had served in the wartime R.A.F., as an armourer, and strangely enough, he told me he had been on the nearest Station to Breighton, at the same time as I had met J – there. I don’t know how he managed it, but he was a mine of information as to what happened to the chaps in our form. Ivor’s name did not come up immediately, as, of course, he had left school before we had done so. But in a pause during his cataloguing of old friends and acquaintances I asked him, “Where’s Ivor got himself these days? I haven’t seen him for years.” P – was solemn, bespectacled and deliberate in manner and speech. He looked earnestly at me through his thick lenses for a moment or two, as though sorting through some mental card-index and trying to decide whether I could be trusted to hear the information which he had in store there. “Ivor,” he said slowly, “Ivor Bradley. Yes. he went into the Raf, of course – you knew that?” “yes,” I said, “He was a Boy Entrant, a Halton Brat, as they were known.” A smile flicked on to and off his face, like the headlights of a car signalling ‘come on’. “That’s right,” he continued, then paused. “Yes, well he went missing, you know.” [page break] For a moment I could not think what he meant. Rather obtusely I said, “You mean he left town? Went off somewhere suddenly?” “No, no, he was aircrew, he went missing on a raid over Germany,” P – said, looking more owlish than ever. “But – he was a fitter, surely?” I exclaimed, with an awful feeling, which I had hoped never again to experience, beginning to overtake me. Then, as the light dawned, I said, “Did he remuster to aircrew?” P – nodded. “Yes, that’s what happened. I saw him just after he volunteered for aircrew – you remember we lived near to one another? – and he said he wanted to do something a bit more active. So he became a Flight Engineer.” “Good God,” I said softly, I’d no idea at all. I never dreamed that Ivor would go – like that.” He nodded again, solemnly. “Well, he did, I’m afraid,” he said. He shuffled through a few more cards. “How long were you at Breighton, by the way? I saw your name in the Visitors’ Book in the Church there, on the day after you’d been in.” “That’s remarkable,” I said, “what a small world, isn’t it?” I remembered very vividly going into the church with J - , the day after Johnny P – went missing. P – said, “You must call in again sometime. I’ll shut the shop and we’ll have a cup of tea and a proper chat.” I said yes, I would do that, and I felt I should really have made more of an effort to do so. But I was a bit of a coward about the rest of his card index, I’m afraid. It was several more years before I learned what had happened to Ivor. Searching through a volume of aircrew losses I finally found his name. He was lost without trace, with his crew, during a raid in a Pathfinder Lancaster in the summer of 1943. . . . . . . . . . . . . I poured myself a cup of the green tea and took a sip as I looked out of the window. But it was terribly tepid, so I threw it all away [page break] and found I wasn’t really thirsty after all. The sun had long since moved off the chequered tea-cosy, and it was starting to get dusk. I shivered suddenly and found I was feeling extremely lonely and extremely depressed. I looked across at the white telephone and wished to hell that someone would ring, anyone at all, even a wrong number would have done, just so that I could have heard a voice. I sat for a while, waiting, but I knew it was a stupid thing to do. Nobody did ring, so I put on my anorak and went out quickly. I walked around for a bit. I passed a lighted pub which looked very inviting and cheerful with people smiling at one another and chatting while they drank their beer. I wished I could go in and have a few beers, with Connie, like I used to. I stopped and thought about it, but I knew it would be no good, and as M – had said, it wouldn’t solve anything. So I kept on walking and feeling bloody miserable when I thought about Ivor and Connie, and about Jack and Peter and Norman, and all my crew. And about J - . Her especially. Then I had a strong craving for a cigarette, but I knew that would be a stupid thing to do, too. It started to rain, so finally, I made my way back to the flat. It felt empty and cold, like somewhere someone had once lived, but didn’t any more. If no-one rings before nine o’clock, I told myself, I will ring M - , just so that I can talk to someone, for Christ’s sake. I sat and looked at the telephone again for a bit and thought about it. But nine o’clock came and I didn’t do anything about it in the end, because I knew it wouldn’t be very cheerful or very much fun for her, and as I was tired and cold I swallowed a couple of aspirin and got into bed. While I was taking them it occurred to me that there was a stack left in the bottle which could be put to very effective use, but then I thought that wasn’t exactly any part of a pressing-on-regardless effort, so I shoved the bottle firmly to one side. I knew I wouldn’t be able to go off to sleep after all this business, and I was damned right. I kept thinking about Ivor, then I started thinking about the crowed and how much I realised I was missing them. And about J - ; her, most of all. Then I thought, [page break] “My God, there’s only me left now, and I’m not much damn good to anyone like this, even if there were anyone,” which made things worse. I would have given a great deal if I could have turned the clock back, to have gone back to Breighton, to that lovely summer, to have started all over again, to be meeting J – for the first time, that wonderful morning when I saw her walk into the Ops Room, when she came to attention smartly and saluted and said, “Good morning, sir.” Little did I know, little did we both know what was to happen to us. But this was getting me nowhere, so in the end I said aloud, “Oh, Christ, I just don’t want to wake up in the morning.” Then I said goodnight to J – ‘s photograph, in our own very special way, like I always had done, to her, once upon a time, when we were together, when we were happy. And then I put out the light. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [inserted] [underlined] Photograph in a book. [/underlined] [/inserted] [page break] [underlined] PHOTOGRAPH IN A BOOK [/underlined] “Frankie, do you remember me?” (Late 20th century pop song.) I realise it is very trite to say that the unexpected is always happening. Nevertheless I have to say that something completely unexpected happened recently to me, which produced, out of the blue, a violent cocktail-shaking of emotions which I thought were firmly and peacefully laid to rest. I flatter myself that usually I am among the first to obtain, or at least to see, newly-published books on the subject of Bomber Command in the second world war, but for one reason or another, this was not the case in relation to a recently-published history of No. 4 Bomber Group. 4 Group included the aerodromes at Linton-on-Ouse, (my initial posting as an Int/Ops Officer), Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, to which I was moved when the Canadians were about to take over the northernmost aerodromes of 4 Group to form their own 6 Group, and Breighton, the satellite of Holme, where I was to meet, fall in love with and become engaged to J - , who, when the war was over became my wife. I should have, to have been true to form, snapped up the book on its first appearing, but for various reasons, I did not. Instead, I heard reports – all good – of it from D - , an Ex-W.A.A.F., who features on a whole page of it, complete with her charming photograph, and with whom I had been corresponding. And I heard of it from Alan, a friend who was instrumental in having a memorial installed on the village green close to the place where Pilot Officer Cyril Barton, V.C., of 578 Squadron in 4 Group, sacrificed his life in bringing back his crippled and half-crewed Halifax after the disastrous Nuremberg raid. Alan was a schoolboy at the time and was among the first on the scene of Cyril Barton’s crash. He has, most worthily, devoted a considerable amount of his time and energy to ensuring [page break] that Cyril’s sacrifice will never be forgotten. It was as a result of this that, just before J – died, I met Alan, a very caring man, a man who has become a true friend to me. He was given the book as a birthday present. He and I live in neighbouring towns. We speak on the telephone quite often; we meet whenever we are able and always find much to talk about, as Alan was also in the Royal Air Force. He was thrilled to receive the book, which, naturally, contains material concerning Cyril Barton. I had been searching bookshops for it, but without success; I had been waiting for the local Library to obtain it for me. Early one evening there was a ring at my doorbell. Alan was standing there, cheerful as ever, a welcome sight indeed. He was carrying something flat in a Sainsbury’s carrier bag. With typical generosity he said that as he and his wife were shortly going on holiday, I might as well have the benefit of the book while he was away. I was grateful to him, and leafed through it while we chatted for a while before he had to leave to go to work. He showed me a picture in the book of Cyril’s wrecked aircraft and of Alan himself, as a schoolboy, standing near to it, very soon after the crash occurred. When Alan had gone, impressed by the high quality of the book and by the photographs in particular, many of them amateur pictures taken by wartime aircrew members, I leafed through its pages, then worked through them systematically. There were many poignant, familiar scenes. Of aircraft and their crews, of aerodromes and their buildings, targets in Germany and the occupied countries, pictures of people I had known of by reputation, people I had known personally, many I had never known. I found myself wondering how many of those young faces smiling at me from the pages were now, like myself, turning these same pages thinking, as I was thinking, “Oh, yes, I remember a scene like that”, or how many if them were no longer able to do this. A lump was gathering in my throat as I turned to a particular page and saw, among a group of captions, one which read ‘Interrogation for 78 Squadron crews as others await their turn, following the raid [page break] on Berlin on 31st August/1st September 1943.’ Reading it, I thought, “Well – I was an Intelligence Officer to 78n Squadron at that time.” Then I looked at the photograph and saw myself pictured there, in the far corner of the room, writing down the replies to my questions to the crew – heaven only knows who they were – at my table. “My God,” I exclaimed. I could not help it and I am not ashamed to admit that my eyes flooded with tears. I had no idea that the photograph had been taken; the author’s credit was to Gerry C - , who was a pilot on the Squadron at that time, whom I knew, and with whom I am still in contact. I felt as though I had been wrenched back in time to that night, almost fifty years ago, as though the intervening years had never been, as though I were still at Breighton, working those long and irregular hours in the windowless Operations Room alongside Derek and Pam, with one or other of the W.A.A.F. Watchkeepers – Freda, or the attractive and much sought after Billie, or with J - . I felt, strangely, that all I needed to do was to walk out of the door of this cottage and I would find myself, miraculously, back on the narrow concrete road leading from that house in the hamlet of Breighton with its tall gable-end, along past the W.A.A.F. site to the Nissen huts of the Intelligence Library, the Window Store and the Ops. Room, where the armed sentry would be on duty, where the cornfield would be stretching away to my left, up towards the perimeter track and the runways of the aerodrome. I would return the sentry’s salute and his greeting and I would open the heavy door of the Ops. Room to see, on my left, the huge blackboard with the captains’ names and their aircraft letters already entered for the night’s operation. At the top, the target for tonight, perhaps Duisburg or Mannheim or Essen – or Berlin. The route written underneath that – Base – Southwold – Point A, with Lat. and Long. positions for the route-marking flares to guide the bomber stream to the target. The time of briefing, of the operational meals, of transport out to the aircraft, of starting engines, and of take-off. Of ‘H-Hour’, the time on target. On the wall facing me I would see the huge map of the British Isles, the S.D. 300, blotched in red with gun-defended areas, stuck with broad-headed pins and coloured threads carrying information [page break] about navigational hazards. In the middle of the room the big map table where, after the raid, we spread the mosaic photograph of the German town which had been the target and would plot the crews’ bombing photos. And, to the right, the place where I shall sit, near to the telephones and next to J – who is there behind her switchboard and Tannoy microphone, ready for the night’s operation. If she had been born a man she would, I know, have been a member of a bomber crew, for she thought and talked of little else but bombing operations. Except on stand-down evenings, in the twilight, when we met secretly in the village at a quiet angle of buildings on the main road, near to the bus stop, then cycled to the ‘Plough’ at Spaldington, the nearest village to the bombing range, where, amazingly, there were no other uniforms to be seen in its homely bar. Where we would spend the long, warm evenings over two or three beers, sitting in the high-backed, high-sided wooden seats made for two, made for people like we were then, people who were young and who had met and who loved each other deeply and desperately. And sitting there, talking gently together, we would hear, above the murmur of the farm workers’ talk, the drone of some aircraft, perhaps on a night cross-country flight, perhaps heading for the other side on a raid. Then we would both sit silently, listening, not saying anything, but I know we were both praying for its safe return to base. Sometimes, when our own aircraft had gone on a raid and we were not due on duty until they returned, we would steal a precious hour together, sitting with our arms around one another in the darkness, on a low grassy bank under some trees, not far from the unmanned railway level crossing at Gunby, the Sandra lights from the aerodrome shining distantly through the trees, heavy with their summer foliage. For some reason, whenever I hear Delius’ ‘The Walk to the Paradise Garden’ I invariably and inevitable think of J – and I at that place and those wonderful, warm summer nights we shared in the countryside of East Yorkshire, around Breighton. The tears which came to my eyes when I saw my photograph, and the sadness which overwhelmed me, were because now, that Interrogation Room, whose walls, had they been possessed of ears, would have heard [page break] small, unemotionally told tales, couched in the understated phrases of flying men, of achievement, of failure, of heroism, of desperation, triumph and tragedy, that Interrogation Room is now an unoccupied ruin, and the Ops. Room is no more, now part of an isolated dwelling house. I know, for I have been back there, where among so much tragedy, I was so happy. And J - , now, is no more, except in my memory. I sat with her, taking her cold and unfeeling hand in mine, one beautiful summer morning, such as we used to have at Breighton, and I watched her life slip away from the loveliness that had been her. But we shall meet again, I know, she and I, and all the many crew members who came into our lives and went again, and were forgotten by us, like the many dawns and the many sunsets which we shared. . . . . . . . . . . . . [page break] [underlined] GLOSSARY [/underlined] Abort – to abandon an operation and return to base. A.C.P. – Aerodrome Control Pilot, a ‘traffic policeman’ for those aircraft within visual distance. A.G. – Air Gunner. Alldis lamp – high-powered lamp capable of flashing Morse letters. A.P. – Air Publication, usually a book; Aiming Point. A.S.I. – Airspeed indicator. Astrodome – transparent blister half way back along the fuselage of the Wellington. A.S.V. – Anti-surface vessel. A.T.A. – Air Transport Auxiliary, civilian aircraft delivery service. Base – parent Station of one or more satellite aerodromes. Three, four, or even five Bases and their satellites constituted a Group. base – one’s home aerodrome. Best blue – best uniform. Bind – (noun) nuisance, annoyance. (verb) to complain, tiresomely. Bomb plot – plan of the target area annotated with the positions of each of the Squadron aircraft’s bombing photos. Bombing Leader – senior Bomb-Aimer on a Squadron, responsible for instruction and training of other Bomb-Aimers. Bombing photo – vertical photo taken automatically on release of an aircraft’s bombs, thus showing the point of impact. Boost – petrol/air mixture pressure at the engine inlet manifold. Buck House – Buckingham Palace. Bullseye – bomber exercise in conjunction with friendly searchlights. Circuits and bumps – take offs, circuits and landing, the staple diet of training pilots. C.O. – Commanding Officer. Cookie – 4000 pound High Capacity blast bomb, nicknamed by the press and B.B.C. ‘blockbuster’. DC3 – Douglas Dakota twin-engined transport aircraft. Also known as a C-47. Defiant – Boulton Paul single-engined fighter/night fighter. Two-seater, the rear seat being in a rotatable 4-gun turret. [page break] D.R. – Dispatch rider. Drem lighting – aerodrome runway and perimeter track lighting, protected by metal dish-shaped hoods so as to be invisible from above. First used at R.A.F. Drem, Scotland. Early return – (later knows as ‘boomerang’) aircraft returning from an abortive sortie. E.F.T.S. – Elementary Flying Training School. Erk – Aircraftman. E.T.A. – Estimated time of arrival. Feathering – device which enabled the pilot to turn the blades of a propeller edge-on to the direction of flight, thus minimising the drag on the aircraft in the event of an engine failure. Flak – German anti-aircraft fire. Flights – Flight Offices and crewroom. Flying the beam – flying from A to B by means of an aural signal transmitted by B. Fresher – a new crew; such a crew’s early operational flights; the target for such a crew. Fizzer, stick (or put) on a – charge with an offence. Gee – radar navigational aid which enabled an aircraft to fix its position. Had a limited range which just covered the Ruhr and was susceptible to jamming. Gen – information, news, divided into ‘pukka’ (true) and ‘duff’ (false). (Meteorological Officers were invariably known as Duff Gen Men.) Geodetics – aluminium girders formed into spiral basket-work construction which made up the fuselage and mainplanes of the Wellington. Get weaving – get going, get started. Glim lamps/lights – low-powered lights which formed the flarepath of an aerodrome. Glycol – Ethylene glycol, liquid coolant. Gong – medal. Goose-necks – paraffin flares housed in watering-can-shaped containers. Supplemented Drem lighting. G.Y. – Grimsby. Gyro – gyroscopic compass. [page break] 1 Group – Bomber Group in north Lincolnshire consisting of, originally, 4 R.A.F., 3 Polish and 2 Australian Wellington Squadrons, latterly, of Lancaster Squadrons. 3 Group – Bomber Group in East Anglia consisting of, originally, Wellington Squadrons. Converted to Stirlings, latterly to Lancasters. Halifax – Four-engined Handley Page bombers with crew of seven. Nicknamed Hali or Halibag. Hampden – Twin-engined Handley Page medium bombers, crew of three. Harvard – single-engined North American Aviation Co. advanced fighter trainers. Also know as Texan or AT – 6. “Have a good trip” – Between close friends on a Squadron this parting remark was occasionally varied by the addition of “Can I have your egg if you don’t come back?” This was part of the grim humour current among bomber aircrew. H.E. – High explosive. High – anticyclone, high-pressure weather system. H2S – Radar device which showed a ground plan of the earth below an aircraft. Ident. light – identification light, a small nose-light used for flashing Morse. I.F.F. – Identification friend or foe. Radar set carried on an aircraft to identify it as friendly to British ground defences. Set to ‘Stud 3’ it gave a specially-shaped distress trace on ground radar screens. Int. – Intelligence. Intercom – internal ‘telephone system’ in an aircraft. Interrogation – now known, in view of the current overtones of ill-treatment which have become implicit in the term, as ‘de-briefing’. I.T.W. – Initial Training Wing. Juice – petrol Kite – aircraft. [page break] L.A.C. – Leading Aircraftman. L.A.C.W. – Leading Aircraftwoman. Line-shoot – boast. Link Trainer – a simulator which gave practice in instrument flying. Lysander – Single-engined Westland Aviation Army co-operation (originally) aircraft. Mag drop – the reduction in r.p.m. of an engine when one of its two magnetos was switched out. Mae West – Inflatable life-jacket which gave to its wearer the contours of the famous film actress. Mosaic – collage of aerial photographs, taken probably at different times, but from the same height, making up a complete picture of a German town, and used to plot bombing photos. Nav. – navigator, navigation. N.F.T. – night-flying test. Nickels – British propaganda leaflets dropped over enemy territory. To drop the leaflets was known as nickelling. Observer – Navigator/Bomb-aimer in twin-engined bombers prior to the establishment of these as separate categories. Occult – white flashing beacon showing one Morse letter whose latitude and longitude was carried by Observers or Navigators (in code). On the boat – posted overseas, or, when overseas, posted to the U.K. One o’clock – slightly to the right of dead ahead (twelve o’clock). Dead astern was six o’clock. Ops – operations. O.T.U. – Operational Training Unit. Oxford – twin-engined advanced bomber-trainer, made by Airspeed Ltd. Peri. track – perimeter track, a taxying track connecting the ends of the runways on an aerodrome, and having aircraft dispersal points leading off it. Pigeon – homing pigeon carried in bomber aircraft to carry a message back to base giving the aircraft’s position in the event of ‘ditching’ (landing in the sea), when the aircraft would be too low for its radio transmissions to be heard. [page break] Pit – bed. Pitch controls – varied the angle of the propeller blades and consequently controlled the r.p.m. of the engine. Pitot head – (pronounced pea-toe) fine-bore tube facing forward which supplied air pressure from the movement of the aircraft through the air and showed this pressure as airspeed on a ‘clock’ in the cockpit. P/O – Pilot Officer (not necessarily a pilot!) Poop off – shoot off. P/O Prune – a cartoon character in Tee Emm (q.v.), an inept pilot forever involved in accidents of his own making. Portreath – R.A.F. Station in Cornwall Prang – crash, wreck, break. Press the tit – press the button. Prop – propeller, more properly, airscrew. P.R.U. – Photographic Reconnaissance Unit. Pundit – aerodrome beacon, flashing two red Morse letters which were changed at irregular intervals. The beacons were always within two miles of the parent aerodrome, although their position was changed nightly. R.A.A.F. – Royal Australian Air Force. R.C.A.F. – Royal Canadian Air Force. Resin lights – low-powered lights at the rear of an aircraft’s wingtips, illuminated over this country as a warning to friendly night-fighters. Colours were changed at irregular intervals. Revs – revolutions. Rolling the bones – gambling with dice. R/T – radio telephone (speech). Sandra lights – cone of three searchlights stationary over an aerodrome, to assist returning aircraft. Scrub – cancel. Second dickey – second pilot. S.D. – secret document. S.D.300 – wall-map of the U.K., kept in the Ops Room and maintained by the Watchkeepers, showing positions of all gun-defended areas, navigational hazards and convoys. [page break] S.F.T.S. – Service Flying Training School. (Stage following E.F.T.S.) Spit – Spitfire. Spoof. – feint. Sprog – newly arrived, newly joined, raw, inexperienced. Square-bashing – drill. Stall – lose flying speed. Stirling – four-engined bomber manufactured by Short Bros. Stooge – boring, casual or haphazard flying. Stud 3 – Distress frequency setting on I.F.F. (q.v.) Sullom Voe – R.A.F. Station in the Shetlands. Sweet Caps – Sweet Caporal cigarettes, a popular Canadian brand. Tee Emm – Air Ministry Training Magazine. Humorously written and comically illustrated aid to safe flying and good navigation and gunnery. It was extremely popular with all aircrew. Trailing edge – rear edge of mainplane or elevators. Trimmers – (or ‘trimming tabs’). Small adjustable sections of the aircraft’s control surfaces, enabling it to be flown, when they were carefully adjusted, without undue pressure on the controls by the hands and feet. Undercart – undercarriage. u/s – unserviceable. u/t – under training. Vic – V. W.A.A.F. – Women’s Auxiliary Air Force; a member of same. W.A.A.F. (G) – Officer responsible for the discipline and well-being of all W.A.A.F. on a Station. Watchkeeper – W.A.A.F. Sergeant who acted as a clearing house for all telephoned outgoing and incoming secret operational and other information, and who was responsible for its prompt and correct transmission to the appropriate person(s). Wellington – twin-engined Vickers bomber with a crew of six. Wimpy – Nickname for the above. Derived from the character in a ‘Daily Mirror’ cartoon – J. Wellington Wimpy, a friend of Popeye. [page break] Wingco – Wing Commander. (C.O. of a bomber Squadron). W/T – wireless telegraphy (Morse code). Y.M. – Y.M.C.A. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Loose on the wind Description An account of the resource Written in 1994, the document begins with a dedication, a poem and then a series of stories which together form the memoirs of Harold Yeoman, an officer who served in Bomber Command during the war, initially as a pilot on Wellingtons and then as an Intelligence Officer. He relates his activities both professionally and personally during this time and recounts the many friends and colleagues he lost whilst on operations. He recalls his flying training on the Tiger Moths at RAF Sywell, then on to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, Canada for further training. He was then posted to Bassingbourne O.T.U. to train to fly Wellingtons, before going to RAF Binbrook on operational flying duties. Harold flew a number of operations before being grounded due to medical reasons. It was whilst he was grounded that his crew were reported as missing and subsequently recorded as killed in action. While waiting for his Medical Board, Harold was stationed at the Operational Training Unit at RAF Moreton-in-the-Marsh ferrying brand new Wellingtons from Kemble to Moreton to hand over to pupil crews. He was then moved to ‘X’ Flight of the O.T.U and trained new pilots before being grounded, again for medical reasons, before being transferred into Intelligence for Bomber Command. He completed his R.A.F. career in Penang as an Adjutant. Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource H Yeoman Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 1994-11 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Tricia Marshall Maureen Clarke Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Multipage printed document Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Text. Memoir Text. Poetry Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Civilian Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Royal Canadian Air Force Royal Australian Air Force Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Northamptonshire England--Northampton England--Devon England--Torquay England--Cheshire England--Wilmslow Iceland Iceland--Reykjavík Canada Nova Scotia--Halifax Nova Scotia--Cape Breton Island Saskatchewan--Moose Jaw England--Suffolk Germany Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal Netherlands Netherlands--IJssel Lake Germany--Kiel Germany--Essen England--Lincolnshire England--Grimsby Germany--Wilhelmshaven Germany--Cologne England--Berkshire England--Reading Netherlands Netherlands--IJmuiden Germany--Essen Germany--Hamburg Germany--Sylt Germany Germany--Helgoland Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea Germany--Lübeck Germany--Duisburg Germany--Bochum England--Gloucestershire England--Yorkshire Burma Burma--Rangoon Malaysia Malaysia--Kampong Sungai Gelugor (Pinang) Malaysia--George Town (Pulau Pinang) Malaysia--Butterworth (Pulau Pinang) England--Buckinghamshire Wales--Vale of Glamorgan Germany--Nuremberg Saskatchewan Nova Scotia Germany--Ruhr (Region) Europe--Frisian Islands Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942-09 1942-05 Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive 1 Group 12 Squadron 4 Group 578 Squadron 78 Squadron air gunner Air Transport Auxiliary aircrew animal Anson anti-aircraft fire B-17 B-24 bale out bombing bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943) bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944) control tower crash crewing up Defiant faith fear final resting place flight engineer flight mechanic forced landing Fw 190 Gee Gneisenau grief ground crew ground personnel Guinea Pig Club H2S Halifax Hampden Harvard In the event of my death letter intelligence officer Ju 88 killed in action Lancaster love and romance Lysander Manchester McIndoe, Archibald (1900-1960) medical officer mess military ethos military living conditions military service conditions navigator observer operations room Oxford pilot Prinz Eugen prisoner of war RAF Bassingbourn RAF Bawtry RAF Binbrook RAF Breighton RAF Finningley RAF Halton RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor RAF Kemble RAF Linton on Ouse RAF Little Rissington RAF Mildenhall RAF Moreton in the Marsh RAF St Athan RAF Sywell RAF Torquay RAF Tuddenham Scharnhorst searchlight shot down Spitfire sport Stalag Luft 3 Stirling Tiger Moth training Victoria Cross Wellington Window wireless operator wireless operator / air gunner Women’s Auxiliary Air Force https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/281/3434/PJeffreyS1604.2.jpg f8f06ac3c4f2638cbf3035d20977df0f https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/281/3434/AJeffreySE160613.2.mp3 b1e7a38c64e687b9a1f552904a6bb1df Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Jeffrey, Stanley Ernest Stanley Ernest Jeffrey Stanley E Jeffrey Stanley Jeffrey S E Jeffrey S Jeffrey Description An account of the resource 24 Items concerning Stanley Ernest Jeffrey (1139581 Royal Air Force) who served as a mechanic engineer groundcrew with 102 Squadron at RAF Topcliffe and RAF Pocklington. Collection contains air force documents, engineering course training notebooks, photographs of aircraft and people and includes two oral history interviews. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Stanley Jeffrey and catalogued by Nigel Huckins Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-05-18 2016-06-13 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Jeffrey, SE Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document HB: This is an interview between Harry Bartlett on behalf of the International Bomber Command Centre and Mr Stanley Ernest Jeffrey, a former Flight Mechanic in the Royal Air Force, 102 Ceylon Squadron from 1941 to — 1946. Interview is taking place on the 13th of June at xxxxx Oadby. HB: That’s the introduction, Stan. IJ: Yeah. That’s the introduction. HJ: Yeah. HB: One of the things we’re interested in Stan, is before the war, I mean obviously you were born somewhere, where — you know, what was your family life before the war? SJ: Well, I lived in King Street in Oadby and Cross Street in Oadby and I worked at the Imperial Typewriter Company from the last day of the old year 1940 — IJ: No. 1930 something. Would it’ve been 1934? SJ: 1934. I left school 1934 of course. Sorry. HB: Which school was that Stan? SJ: Oadby School, there was only two schools in Oadby then, the Senior and the Junior. So in the Junior School, in the — when I started school at Junior School in Oadby and then moved to the Senior School in nineteen, [laughs] I get mixed up with the dates — [laughter]. HB: Thirties. IJ: Thirty-four. HB: That would be about in the thirties, yeah. What did you do at school? What were your main interests at school? SJ: Well we did — more or less all schools — the usual school, you know, nothing in particular, that was, what can I say, well we just started school at four, started school in the Junior School at four, from the Junior School we went to the Senior School, that’s on the Leicester Road, Oadby. IJ: Did you have any interests at school? SJ: Well not really. We just — HB: What, what did you enjoy most at school Stan? SJ: I think I had the schooling really, the teachers were very good to us you know ‘cause we weren’t well off you know, all the kids at school the majority of the time. Yes it was quite nice at school, I enjoyed my schooling really. HB: So what, what family did you come from Stan? SJ: There was my mum, dad, I had a brother Aubrey, he died recently. HB: Oh. IJ: Ten years ago. SJ: Ten years ago he died. IJ: And Aub wanted to go in the Air Force but he had to go down the mines. SJ: Yes, my brother was very disappointed because he had to go down the mines instead of being in, what he called ‘being in the war’. HB: What did mum and dad do, what did dad do? SJ: Dad was — worked in shoes, pressman in shoes. HB: Was that local or in Leicester? SJ: Er, it — he was local for a start and he was also at Leicester and mum, she was in the hosiery, and the boots and shoes. [laughter] They both had different jobs, they got work where they could you see. HB: Yes. So as we get to your leaving school, how did you come to work for Imperial Typewriters? SJ: Oh, there was a fella, he was the printer at, at the cartwrighter’s, he were a printer and he got me the job. HB: Oh right. SJ: He got me the job. He knew me. Me mum went to see him and he got me the job. So I did start school at the last of the old year, 1934 at the Imperial. I worked there until I got called up in — yes, I worked there ‘till I got called up in nine — when were it? I’m getting mixed up with — IJ: Nineteen forty-one, was it? SJ: Yeah, in nineteen thirty-four until I got called up in nineteen — oh God. HB: I think it says on your Service Record early, something like, February 1941, something like that. About February 1941. SJ: Ah. Yes I think it was about 1941. HB: Where was, where was Imperial Typewriters at that time? SJ: At the East Park Road. IJ: In Leicester. SJ: In Leicester, East Park Road in Leicester, yeah. HB: And did er, and did you just go into it or did you go into some sort of apprenticeship? SJ: I went in as a runabout, I, I were fourteen you see. You started as a runabout and you worked your way through various jobs til I become a foreman. IJ: Well you did later on, SJ: Manager yeah, IJ: Not long before you went into the Air Force. SJ: That’s right I worked up myself to be a manager at the Imperial — IJ: But that were after you come out the Forces Stan. HB: I was just, yeah, I was gonna say, so Imperial Typewriters was an important SJ: Yes HB: part of your life before the war. SJ: Yes HB: Um, what interests, what interests did you have outside of school before the war Stan? SJ: Well I didn’t have very little interests. IJ: Did you go night school Stan? SJ: I went night school, night school but apart from that there well, there was nothing much in the village then. We had the picture house built, I remember that being built you see and that livened us up a bit, [laughter] somewhere to go at night time. Ahh, but that even closed down, that didn’t last, it lasted a while. IJ: It were going when the war were on weren’t it? SJ: Oh yes, yeah. IJ: So it was after the war when it closed. SJ: Yes it closed in about, ooh, well after I’d met you and that. IJ: Oh yeah, yeah, because I mean it was till open when Jan were little, cos we used to take her pictures. So I mean, I think it might have been the sixties when it closed. SJ: Yeah, as I say it was there for a short while really because as I said, it closed down and it were a shame really because we had do nothing else in the village, there were nothing until the pictures were built in Oadby. HB: You were doing a bit, you were doing a bit with the Scouts weren’t you? SJ: You what? HB: You were in the Scouts weren’t you? SJ: Yes, yes for a short time. That’s where I met that fella again, who got err, who crashed. IJ: Hmm — HB: Yeah, yeah in the, in the, in the accident. SJ: Yes I met him again. That were funny that was meeting him because you see well when err, when you were detailed to a certain aeroplane and that, perhaps sometimes it had to go in the hangar for a major inspection and perhaps you used to have to follow it in and work on it in there and that’s where I met this fella who, you know, who got shot down yeah. HB: Yeah, yeah the crash at the um, where the memorial is now yeah. The,so that, that you know, you’ve obviously been called up, when you’ve done, when you’ve done all your training, and you were you know, what was the process, what was, how did they sort of send you out? Did they just —? SJ: No, well you see, you went to what were called to the school do you see? You went there from errr, I know I come away from there September 1941, HB: Aha SJ: yeah September. You had about seventeen, seventeen or eighteen weeks training and then you moved out to a squadron and that’s when I was posted to 102 Squadron in September 1941, I do remember that yeah. And I was with them all through the war years. HB: So when, when you were posted out, how, how did you feel, how did you feel about going to, you know being posted to 102 Squadron? SJ: Well it was great really because you felt as though you were doing something towards the war you see? You looked after the engines from you know, and you were, it were nice when we was made, in the latter, that latter part of the war, they made the Ground Crews the same as the Air Crew. The Ground Crew was to a certain aircraft, I was on EEs then, in the latter part of the war. HB: And from that you formed friendships — SJ: That’s right HB: Through that? SJ: That’s right yes, you went, you were posted to any aircraft to look at in A Flight, I was in A Flight. There was A, B and C Flights with about eight aircraft in each, in each Flight and I was posted to A Flight and I was with A Flight all the while. HB: Yes. When, when you were working on the aircraft you obviously, you know, you’ve, you’ve done the work, you’ve got to get them ready for the operation. What was that process, getting them ready for the operation? SJ: Well for a start the aircraft was always out on the dispersal point and you, you were detailed to this one aircraft, EEs towards the latter part of the war, so you went, you went out 8 o’clock in the morning you’re out there doing your inspection. It really [unclear] and sometimes it was about perhaps a 16 hour inspection, a 32 hour inspection [unclear] so the bigger the inspection were the aircraft. HB: Yes. SJ: You see, so you had a detailed inspection to do every day and err that, well then sometimes the Air Crew used to come out and they used to have a look over the aircraft and you know, have a chat with us and such like. That were quite nice, quite interesting really that were. HB: And that, and this is where the bond, the friendship grew? SJ: That’s right yeah yes, yes we formed quite a lot of friendships with the air air, you didn’t call them sergeants and such like, they were mates of yours really yeah, on our Squadron anyway. I mean you used to come out, perhaps have a fag with them, and a chat, and when they went on operations you always used to have to sign the form 700 which was my work form to, to say I’d done the engines you see and you’d go in when all the Air Crew were ready for Ops, they’d run the engines up, the pilot would, they’d sign to say they were satisfied with the engines and then I’d come out and shut the door and then you’d see, see ‘em off on the Ops. You used to have to sit there at night waiting for ‘em coming back which was quite, it were nice, all the EEs and them in the circuit you know they’re OK, we’d know we’d got ours back you see. And as each one come in we saw each aircraft in. HB: So did you actually manage the aircraft as they left and as they came back, when they came down onto the ground? SJ: Yes, seen, seen, seen ‘em off and seen ‘em back, oh yeah. And sometimes, well, well I used to stick a bit of chewing gum on the undercarriage for ‘em, it got a habit, yes I used to [unclear] , that were the good luck charm for ‘em. IJ: Oh crikey. HB: On the EEs? SJ: Yeah on the EEs, yeah and I used to get a bit of chocolate for that [laughter] , from the aircrew and that yeah. HB: And did, obviously you were there for a long time you know, from 41 through to 46 um. Doorbell SJ: That’s all right, it’s only — HB: It’s all right I can pause — HB: That’s just a short break in the interview ahh while a friendly neighbour delivers one or two bits and bobs to Stan. Um, we’ll just go back Stan to obviously the length of time you were at Pocklington and er what not. You you had the same aircraft? SJ: Yeah. HB: Umm, what was — SJ: We didn’t from the start we didn’t from the start. You see, what at one time the the Flight Sergeant used to ‘right so and so Stan, Jack you’re on E today, you’re on A ’ he said. And then suddenly it got to it that the same aircraft, the same aircraft and the same ground crew which was, it were more interesting, better for you, you felt as though you were part and parcel of the — HB: It, it strikes me, from the way you’ve spoken previously that it must have been, quite, umm I won’t say emotional, I would say difficult, to —. You’re looking after the aircraft, you’ve formed these friendships with some of the Air Crew and you’re watching them disappear, SJ: Hmm. HB: and obviously there was a possibility that they weren’t going to come back? SJ: Yeah, yeah. Well we never thought about that, we always thought about them coming back. I never lost an E, in all my, no I never lost an E, not err, not in the latter part. For a start I’d say when you were on any aircraft you see, I did, one aircraft, E, I did lose one aircraft that, he come down shot up with a hundred, hundred holes in. HB: Phew. SJ: Yes, he managed to land it. I forget his name now, but he rose in the ranks to Squadron Leader, I forget his name you see. And er, and er of course you saw a lot of that really, you know, crashes and. You used to be fetched out to crashes you know. I mean one crash I did [unclear] , there were seventeen on it, they took the ground crew up and they crashed you see. So we had to sort that out and I didn’t know at the time, it were night time, I didn’t know at the time but the pilot was still in there. When they come in the morning they had to report the pilot still sitting there you see. Yeah, they’d missed him yeah. But anyway, yes we and we also, it was one time perhaps we were stationed in the farmhouse and the farmers and that and the family looked after us through the, oh yeah, perhaps had breakfast with him or something. Oh yes, they were big on breakfasts and that with the, on crash duty yeah. HB: Hmm. Difficult. SJ: It were nice, I enjoyed the time there. You see I’d been there all the while with the same fellas and it were quite nice ‘cos you, you formed a bond with them you see and also the Air Crew, and as soon as they’d finished operations of thirty ops they’d take the Ground, they’d take us out for a meal. HB: Mmm. SJ: Yeah, I’ve been on one or two [laughter]. As I said I never lost an aircraft in my time. So, yes, before, yes they’d take us out, take us down in the car to Pocklington to the pub and have a meal, come back and sitting on top of the car roof coming back, [laughter] had a good time, all singing and shouting the ground crew and that, we were all one yeah. I think I had about four, four meals. Yeah yeah, I didn’t lose a ground crew, it were quite nice up there for me HB: Hmm. SJ: thinking back. It was, it were Hank and Tom and all this lot. One were a tailor, one were a tailor in, err somewhere you know. One were You got to know what they did you know. HB: 102 Squadron had a range of nationalities in the air crews. Um, was that reflected in the Ground Crew as well, or just — SJ: No there were some, we did have a group that’d come one time come, perhaps about half a dozen engine and aircraftmen, yeah. We did have that at one time, but normally we had, it were just the lads, you know, the lads who‘d been there on the same aircraft and that and you see you formed this er loyalty and that to the aircrew you see. HB: So you had, you had four dinners, that’s four crews, SJ: Yes we had four — HB: How long, how long would it have, would the aircraft —? SJ: We had thirty ops HB: taken the aircraft have taken to do thirty ops? SJ: They’d done the thirty ops, they’d done the thirty ops and they took us to the local pub yeah. They didn’t err, as I say I never lost a ground crew in the latter part, which was quite chuff really. We all got er, we formed that bond [unclear] for thirty ops and that and seeing them off and back, yeah. HB: So as you’re coming to the end of your time at Pocklington and then you moved to um err, where did you go after Pocklington? SJ: Bassingbourn. HB: Bassingbourn. So you’re coming up to the end of the war, what did you, how did you feel about, at what point did you think this, this ain’t going to last much longer? HB: Well when the war were over, we were only too pleased it were over and it weren’t the same, it weren’t the same in the Air Force after the, after the war had finished. Well we’ve done it, let’s get out, you know. That’s kind of how it was yeah. Because it, as I say, you formed a bondship with the Air Crew, each Air Crew you see after their first two or three ops you know and that, yeah. HB: Hmmm. Cos, I mean, in what, about the early part of 1945 you know they were moving towards D Day and all that sort of thing you know. Did you know much about that on the airfield? SJ: No, no we just carried on you know, every day you did, did the same thing, HB: Yeah. SJ: look at the aircraft, see it’s OK but it wasn’t the same as before. You’d think it’s finished, it’s over and done with. HB: And when when did you and your Ground Crew sort of think to yourselves, or find out. that you were coming towards the end of it? SJ: Well I think in the latter part, you see and they took, they took us about the second, the second week after the war finished, they took, they took us for a trip over Germany to look at all the bomb damage so we had, we had a quite a good trip out to show us all the bomb damage, yeah. What we’d done. That’s when you started knowing it were over, you know, you’d done your bit, let’s get out. HB: Hmm, yeah. SJ: You understand what I mean. HB: So they, so you were actually in an aircraft, was that your own aircraft? SJ: Yeah, that’s right it were your aircraft. EEs were our aircraft, we looked after that. HB: And they, the pilot flew you out over Germany. What was you, what was you f —That must have been a bit of a strange feeling Stan? SJ: It were nice though. HB: You see — SJ: It were nice the way, ‘cos they flew low. Matter of fact I looked up at wotsit Cathedral, cos it were that low going on and all the people were waving to you, you could see all that. HB: How did, how did you feel when you actually saw what they’d done, the effect of the bombing? SJ: Yeah, I thought, well I mean when I went out I were in the rear turret, so I had a good view I did. Cos it, it weren’t you know, they were all in their positions, some were sitting in the wotsit, but they gave me the rear turret seat so I was first off and last on ha ha. HB: [laughter] Was that because of the chewing gum on the aeroplane? SJ: [laughter] Yeah, I had a good view you see of what happened. All the bomb damage you see. HB: Hmmm. When, when when you came to actually coming out of the RAF um how did you feel about the sort of attitudes towards Bomber Command, that sort of thing? SJ: Well, it was, to me, to me I never bothered with me medals because I was that disappointed with how we were treated, you know, Bomber Command, I never bothered. I didn’t get a medal and that. I were in five and a half years and I never got a medal. HB: And yeah, did you? You say you were disappointed, um what? SJ: With the attitude of the higher ups, how Churchill treated us, you know. He done nothing, he done nothing really. They did too much damage. What, what killed Churchill was when the last bombing raid on Essen, is it Essen? Where, where they killed, they killed a lot of people and they said it weren’t defended, but it was, it was. Because, err how was it, [pause] they said it, they hadn’t ought to bomb that because it wasn’t a proper bombing raid or something like that. HB: Hmm right. SJ: Yeah. They shouldn’t have bombed it, like that. But it was, ‘cos there was, there was a, err they were still using, they were still bombing err us as well as them you see. I won’t say it were tit for tat but we we thought we did a good job you know, to end the war, really. HB: And that and that feeling towards, you know, as you said, Churchill and the higher ups, um did that affect, did that affect how you looked at the country after, when you came out of the RAF, did that did that affect how you looked at things? SJ: I don’t think I gave that a thought you know, I’d been, I’d done my bit and I was satisfied what we’d done and that was that.HB: Hmm. SJ: Yeah. HB: Hmm. At what point in this, in this time at what point did you meet Iris? SJ: Did? HB: Did you meet Iris? IJ: Yes. SJ: That was nineteen forty — IJ: I was sixteen weren’t I, SJ: Yeah [laughter] IJ: When you met me and? SJ: Yes. I met Iris about, oh after I’d been in the Air Force IJ: Yes. SJ: for a couple of years or more. IJ: Yeah that’s right. SJ: Came home on leave once and I was introduced to Iris at the De Montfort, the De Montfort Hall. HB: Aaahh. IJ: Yeah, so that’s when we got together, we had a dance and that were it weren’t it? SJ: Yeah, yeah. We got married two years after. But it weren’t — IJ: 1944 we were married. SJ: 1944 we got married, 1944 yeah. HB: So you’ve met Iris, you’ve got married, you’ve come to the end of it, you’re coming out of the RAF. Um I think you said earlier that you went back to back to — SJ: Imperial. HB: Imperial Typewriters? SJ: Yes because your jobs, your jobs was er spoken for, you were reserved yes. If you went back, you went back to the same job and everything yes and that’s when we err IJ: What? SJ: I had about six weeks leave. I didn’t want to go back to work for six weeks, I thought, well you know, and then I went back, went back after six weeks leave and err I think was it, weren’t it Iris? HB: Did you, did you just pick up where you left off or did you —? Was your engineering stuff in the RAF useful? SJ: Yes it seemed a bit tame after, seemed a bit tame after being with the lads. HB: Hmm. SJ: I missed the lads when they come out of the forces, yeah. Well you’re bound to after all them years, ain’t you with them? IJ: Well It’s like the college lads and girls, I’ll bet when they come out they miss all their mates unless they keep in touch with them. HB: So your, when you actually got back to Imperial Typewriters, um you’ve got your job that’s been reserved for you, you know you sort of start work, the lads that you’ve been with, particularly the ground crew, um how did you, how did you feel about keeping in contact with them? SJ: Well we kept in touch with one, Eric. IJ: Yes Eric. SJ: I kept in touch with him ‘cos he lived near, where were it? Where did he live? HB: Kettering? IJ: No. SJ: About er twenty five mile away. IJ: I forget where. HB: I kept in touch with him for quite some time. IJ: We used to go and see them, haven’t we? SJ: Yes we used to go and see them, yeah. HB: Was he the one from Northampton? SJ: That’s it Northampton. HB:Right yes I think we mentioned him last time. SJ: Yes from Northampton, kept in touch with him but he died didn’t he, he died. IJ: He died yeah. SJ: I went to see his wife afterwards didn’t I but that’s — when he died — Iris: She kept in touch for a bit, she sent us Christmas cards and that didn’t she? Then the daughter rang to say that she’d died. SJ: Yeah. HB: Did you ever, did you ever get any messages you know about reunions or getting back together or anything like that? SJ: No, no there was nothing, I’ve never heard of a 102 Squadron reunion at all. Since I’ve been in touch with them they’ve been talking about them now but you see I can’t get up to them at the present time. I’d love to get to one, you know. I mean I’ve been invited ain’t I to —? IJ: Yeah, oh yes you’ve — SJ: I’ve been invited, they’ve been in touch, they say I can go to the home at Pocklington. HB: Hmm yeah. IJ: We’ll perhaps be able to do that if it — SJ: I hope to be able to do that one of these days, I might see if I can get back there. IJ: Well if we can get that wet room done, I mean hopefully if we can get in, we can go there while they’re doing it, you know for at least a week. SJ: That’s what we’re thinking because they’re going to do the wet room for us you see. They say there’s going to be a bit of a noise for a week and I’m hoping to try, if possible to go for a week whenever they start. It could be six months or more. Iris: That’s if we can get in. SJ: Yeah. HB: That would be really nice. SJ: They tell me I can because I was on that Squadron for a long while. HB: Well, yeah I mean, 1941 to ’46 it’s —. IJ: You were there. SJ: Yeah. HB: That’s why, I mean I’m, I come from an era where you know we didn’t have that situation, so it’s hard to think that guys who were together as a team, as a group working every day, you know in war time conditions, um it comes to an end and there doesn’t seem to be much happening afterwards. SJ: No there was nothing, you think, it were funny really. It took a little while to get used to being back in Civvy Street, as they say, it took a while yeah really. I mean yeah [laughter] you felt like, at one time that I’d like to get back to the lads you know, no disrespect, no disrespect to the wife of course but you miss the lads. HB: How long, how long before that sort of faded away? SJ: [pause] Oh I think it took a year or two before it finally, you know because well, you were back in Civvy Street then, which is entirely different to being in the Forces really. HB: What did you think were the biggest differences at the end of the war when you when you came back to work? SJ: Well there were the lads and you were, you were all together you know even when you were bombed and that you know. HB: You got bombed did you? EJ: Oh yeah, yeah we all went running down the shelter, it were that full of water and we got wet through. IJ: Where were that Stan? SJ: Pocklington. IJ: Was it in Pocklington? HB: Three foot, three foot deep in water? SJ: Yeah, yeah [unclear] were full of water yeah. We got err once or twice, as a matter of fact when we got married, that were 1942 when we got married, 1944 sorry, when we got married, and err one aircraft bombed and it took err it damaged another aircraft right at Barnby Moor yeah right at — oh yes, it it bombed this aircraft, I were on leave at the time, come back yeah. HB: So, so you were [cough] excuse me, actually on the airfield when you got, when it was bombed? SJ: Yeah, yeah. HB: Err obviously by the enemy, [laughter] um, so yeah that, hmm yeah so that’s, is that when they were out on operations or had they followed them back or was it just an opportunity? SJ: Ah well, sometimes they followed ‘em back you know. HB: Hmm. SJ: Sometimes they followed them back and one time there were quite a bit of damage done because all the lights were lit up and the aircraft were bombing the airfield. HB: How many times do you reckon that happened to you? SJ: Not many times. HB: Right. SJ: No not many times it were only about once or twice that were but we had plenty of air raid warnings you know as they were after all airfields you see. HB: Hmm. Well bearing in mind the time and you need to get something to eat Stan, I think we’ll call it a day and I’ll, I’ll pass this over to the guys at Lincoln but thanks ever so much you know for what you’ve said before and all the photos, it’s absolutely brilliant really because as I say — SJ: Even so I don’t feel as though I’ve done much. IJ: Stan can’t quite remember, it’s changed a little bit this last month or two, he can’t he can’t remember quite so much now. HB: Stan what you can remember is is remarkable and as I say it’s an aspect, that you know the Ground Crews and the way the air stations worked, SJ: Oh yeah, HB: And all that. These are things that — SJ: We did appreciate the grounds crews and they appreciated us. HB: Yeah. SJ: They appreciated — HB: I’m going to turn the tape off now, or the recording, it’s not a tape any more. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context AJeffreySE160613 Title A name given to the resource Interview with Stanley Ernest Jeffrey. One Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Language A language of the resource eng Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:40:43 audio recording Conforms To An established standard to which the described resource conforms. Pending review Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Harry Bartlett Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2016-06-13 Description An account of the resource Stan Jeffrey was a flight mechanic at RAF Pocklington. He discusses the camaraderie between the ground and air crews. He would stick chewing gum to the undercarriage as a good luck charm. Shortly after the end of the war, the ground crew were taken on a flight over Germany to see the bomb damage. He worked for Imperial Typewriters before and after the war. Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Yorkshire Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1941 1942 1943 1944 1945 Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Tina James Maureen Clarke 102 Squadron Churchill, Winston (1874-1965) Cook’s tour flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Halifax military service conditions RAF Pocklington superstition https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1222/12028/PSpencerGC1901.1.jpg 8083fea68b27ab2d47336859883af7a0 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/1222/12028/ASpencerGC190123.1.mp3 836491e6db78df25fa3408cce2d0955e Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Spencer, Geoffrey Charles G C Spencer Description An account of the resource An oral history interview with Leading aircraftsman Geoffrey Spencer (b.1925, 1735606 Royal Air Force). He served as a flight mechanic and fitter with 49 Squadron at RAF Fiskerton and 189 Squadron at RAF Fulbeck. The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff. Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2019-01-23 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Spencer, GC Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document HB: This is an interview for International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive between Harry Bartlett and Geoffrey Charles, GS: Spencer. HB: Spencer. We’re at Sutton Coldfield. It’s the 23rd of January 2019. Right Geoff, the floor’s yours, so I understand you come from this sort of area anyway, before the war. GB: Well I were born in Birmingham and I lived in Erdington before I moved to Sutton Coalfield. HB: Right. GS: But I joined the RAF from when I lived in Erdington and the first place I went to was Cardington for eight weeks’ square bashing and then they moved me to Cosford, RAF Cosford and I did a flight mechanic’s course. HB: You know before you joined, did you actually go to school in Erdington? GS: Oh yeah, when I was in Erdington, from when I was fifteen, I joined the Air Training Corps and I did three years with the Air Training Corp prior to going in to the RAF. HB: So did you get called up or did you volunteer? GS: I volunteered. HB: Why did you volunteer? GS: I don’t know, because they called me, one day after me eighteenth birthday, which I thought was a bit naughty! But that’s it, they sent me there. But anyway - HB: Sorry, where was your ATC unit? GS: At Dunlop, Erdington, Dunlop, the big Dunlop factory there, which is still there, part of it and we did all our Air Training Corp training which was a Sunday parade and whatever we did in the week, taking exams and things to get what they call PNB status which was pilot, bomb aimer and bomb aimer and you had to take various exams to pass that exam and you were given a proficiency badge then, when you’ve acquired that, and then you had to wait around and we went to various squadrons, RAF squadrons, Swinderby was one, you know Swinderby, don’t you. HB: I do, I do. GS: And we also, oh where else, oh, Fradley, RAF Fradley. HB: Don’t know Fradley, no. GS: Litchfield. HB: Oh right! GS: 27 OTU that was. I went to that one. HB: Ah, right! So when you did the ATC training, did you get to fly? GS: Yes, we did fly. Actually we flew from, in Wellington Bombers when we were at Fradley, time expired Wellington bombers, the wings flapped, they were terrible things, and we went up without chutes. we used to just go down to the airfield at night and cadge flights. And then after that I flew a lot when I was on the squadron at Fiskerton, and I also flew in York aircraft. When, when we flew out to, to Singapore, we flew out by York aircraft from Lyneham, which is still going apparently, but it took five days. HB: Yeah, I can imagine. So you did your ATC training, you got called up, what were mum and dad doing at the time? GS: My father was a toolmaker and I worked for him as an apprentice. HB: Ah right. Had he got his own business? GS: He’d got his own business, yeah. Not a very big business, but it was a business, then in 1950 he sold it all and moved down to Cornwall, farming. HB: So your mum and dad are there, you’ve been called up a day after your eighteenth birthday. Nicola: He’d volunteered to go. Wasn’t called up. GS: I volunteered for the RAF, yes. I’ve got a sister but she was in the ATS. HB: Right. Is she older than you, is she older than you? GS: Yes, three years older than me. HB: That would explain it. So you go and report, and they say here’s your travel warrant. GS: Yep, I volunteered at Dale End in Birmingham, right in the centre, that’s it. Then, I say, went to Cardington, eight weeks square bashing and then I went to Cosford and did a flight mechanics course. I don’t know whether you know, but in the RAF there were five trades starting with Group One which was the expert and Group Two which my lot, flight mechanics. Three, four and five you finished up with the bog cleaners, you know, yeah, that was group five, they didn’t do anything. Well from Cosford I went to Fiskerton, 49 Squadron. And I was put into the hangars there servicing the Lancasters, I did a fifty hour service. And from there I was sent out on the flights, B Flight I was on, servicing the Lancasters before they flew on ops. You’re okay, getting all this down are you? HB: Yep, it’s, I just have to keep an eye on the batteries, that’s all, Geoff. GS: At Fiskerton. And I used to fly there, used to fly at night time. You had to sign a form, Form 700, to say that you’d serviced the aircraft and you were satisfied. And the pilots invariably said have you signed the 700, yes I have to, said right go and get a parachute, you’re flying with me, if you’ve serviced the aircraft, I want to make quite sure. HB: His guarantee then! GS: That was the guarantee. I used to fly that was it. Anyway I used to watch them go out every night. Count how many came back and there was always a few missing. HB: How did you feel about that? GS: Not very happy. And then, from Fiskerton, they had FIDO. Do you remember that? You remember FIDO? HB: Well, I remember it, but some people don’t, what was FIDO. GS: FIDO was two pipelines joining along the runway which they set alight, which cleared the fog. Nicola: With fuel dad, was it? Did it, was it fuel? GS: Hundred octane fuel they used, I don’t know how many thousand gallons every time. One time we went to nearby Waddington, you know that don’t you, doing engine change on a Lancaster and then the pilot said well I’m on ops tomorrow so I’ll fly you back, and during the time from Waddington to Fiskerton, which was only about ten mile, the fog came down and the pilot said - he phoned down the ops tower - and they said well we’ll light FIDO for you, which they did. But the thing is when the fog clears it creates a heat haze, and the pilot said it’s gonna be a bumpy landing. HB: Oh no! GS: So we made the approach and he said the alternative, he said, I shall have to crash land it. And the sergeant that was with me at the time, he said, if you do that, we’ve just done an engine change, he said you’ll have to change the bloody lot! [Laughter] Which was quite true. Anyway, he made a very bumpy landing, the brakes failed, so we turned off the runway at about fifty mile an hour and he says hold on we might not be able to stop, but he stopped right in front of the watch tower. And at that time, back at Fiskerton the squadron split up. 49 Squadron went to Syerston, you know Syerston, and 189 Squadron which I was seconded to went to Fulbeck, which was south of Waddington. That’s where you’ve got that bit mixed up I think. [Sounds of paper rustling] HB: And that was with 189 Squadron. GS: Yeah. Who were also at Bardney. HB: Yeah, that’s sort of, answered that sort of little hiccup there. GS: Well from there they sent me on a Fitter One course at Henlow, which puts it in the right order. HB: I’m just interested in that Geoff. When you went to RAF Cosford, they would train you as a flight mechanic on all the various engines, the Merlins, the Hercules, you know, all those engines. So when you actually got posted out, you were working on, what sort of engines were you working on then, with the Lancs? GS: Merlins. HB: You were working on the Merlins. GS: Merlin 20s. HB: So what was the difference between doing your training as a flight mechanic and your training as a fitter? GS: I don’t know, it was just more sophisticated, more intricate details on the Merlin engine. For instance, I can remember doing a block change on the Merlin engine, which if you’d been a flight mechanic was unheard of. We were in, one of the aircraft came into the main hangar and we did a, and a V12, and we did a block change, which is quite intricate. HB: So the block is the bit where the pistons go up and down. GS: That’s right, that’s it, six on each, which was quite a big job doing that. Which we managed okay and that’s when after Fulbeck they sent me to Henlow on that Fitter One’s course. Where did I go from there? HB: Did you have, obviously you passed the course. GS: Yeah, I did, I passed with honours on that actually, I did quite well. HB: Did you get promoted and more money? GS: I got promoted; I got my props. I was an LAC, so I was quite chuffed with that. And then I went to Holmsley South, now that’s a place in the New Forest, right down the south. I was only there a month, then I went to Duxford for about a month, which was on Spitfires. HB: Was this all the while working on the engines? GS: Yes. HB: For just like a month. GS: I was a Group one Tradesman then see, I was more useful to them. And then, now where did I go, oh, I went to a place called Hinton in the Hedges which is in Oxfordshire. And when I go there - no aircraft - and the whole airfield was full of airc – of lorries and all the maintenance stuff and what they were doing, they were, all the airfield’s completely covered in all sorts of lorries and all sorts, aircraft carriers and all this sort of business and they’d bring them round into the main hangar, which was still there, service them and put them out back into the airfield and eventually they were dispersed to the place that they wanted them. But, I was wasting my time there, of course. HB: I was going to say what were they using you for then Geoff? GS: Well they were using me for, to going out on my bicycle to any of the lorries that were, various types of lorries, bring them into hangars, spray them, blokes spraying, and going out again. HB: Group One tradesman doing that. GS: I was a Group One tradesman. HB: Just slightly moving that cause it’s just making a bit of a noise. GS: That’s better. Absolutely fine. Yes. HB: I’m just. So you’re only there a short time then, I presume. GS: Yep, and then from there, I went to Lyneham and they posted me out to Singapore. HB: How much, how much notice did you get of that? GS: Well I don’t know really, I never took time of notice. HB: So what year do you think that was about? GS: That was late ’44, because, or late, that’s right, because at that time I as posted out there, went to Lyneham, they dropped the bomb; the atomic bomb. HB: So that would be ‘45 then. GS:’ 45. That’s it, that’s it. They dropped the bomb and I flew out to Singapore. HB: Just take you back to you know, Cosford, Fiskerton and all them. What sort of leave did you get? GS: Well the usual leave thirty six hour pass, forty eight hour leave. I think I had exp, expo leave before I flew out to Singapore. I think I had fourteen days. HB: Expo? GS: Yeah. What do they call it? HB: Debark? De, Debarkation? GS: Embarkation! HB: Embarkation leave. Oh right. So what did you do with your leave, did you come home? GS: Oh yeah. HB: Came home. You go to the local dance hall. GS: Local dance hall and all that. HB: In your uniform. GS: I met my wife there, at the local masonic, you know. I had an incident when I were flying out to Singapore. There were two York aircraft went out and there were twenty blokes in each aircraft and we knew each other, forty odd blokes, and we tossed up which aircraft we’d go in. We went to Malta, Habbaniya, what’s, I forget the one in northern India, and then Calcutta. Dumdum, Dumdum airfield, and I elected to go on the first aircraft, on the York that was going to Singapore and the second aircraft didn’t get there: it flew into the Indian Ocean. So that was why, sheer luck, is why I’m still here. And then I did twelve months in Singapore. I had to remuster again then because they didn’t want aircraft fitters then, so I had to remuster as a Fitter Marine and I was on high speed launches wandering around the East Indies, which was quite a good time. HB: So you went from Lyneham, you flew down through Malta, Middle East, into, GS: Singapore. HB: The northern India one and then Singapore. You’re based at Singapore. So you were in what, were you in tents or in quarters? GS: In quarters, I’ve got some pictures of them actually. We were initially sent out, when we’d gone from Lyneham they told me I was on what they called Tiger Force, which was going to Okinawa which was the nearest point for bombing Tokyo, but because I was in Singapore I didn’t want that because the war had finished with Japan then. HB: So they just literally took you off aircraft fitting and said - GS: Fitter marine! HB: Fitter marine. That’s, what was the big difference with the engines then? GS: Phew, terrible. There were three Peregrine engines inside the high speed launches, one either side and one at the back of you and it was a hundred and forty degrees in there, so you could only spend ten minutes at a time. When they were going at full throttle, which was thirty knots, you hadn’t got much chance, so you had to come up after ten minutes. It was horrible. Nicola: What about it, do you remember when you fell in the water dad. HB: You went overboard did you? Nicola: You were on, someone backed in to you. Go on. GS: Well what happened, I was on the quayside, there was a drop in the water of about thirty foot. Some western oriental gentleman I called them, didn’t call them that, backing a lorry up to me he must have seen me, I was looking out to sea and the next minute [slap sound] it hit me and I was in the sea and fortunately there was an officer standing there and he galloped down into the water and dragged me out. Cause it was only about eighteen inches of water. HB: You were lucky. GS: It knocked me out virtually. I came round and he said you had a bit of luck there, didn’t you airman. I said yeah, did, I’m glad you got me out. He said look down there, you see all those snakes, he said, they’re all bloody poisonous. [Chuckle] So, sick quarters, and I was okay. Nicola: You never saw the guy, did you from the truck. GS: No, the bloke took off, never saw him again. Nicola: He knew he was in trouble, didn’t he. HB: So you’re working round, all round Singapore, so you must have had a few trips out to the islands. GS: Oh yes. Up into Malaya, Penang and Java, Sumatra of course they’ve all changed their names now, haven’t they. So I had twelve months. When I was demobbed, they, I came back by sea. I had to go to a transit camp in Malaya and then came back by sea and it took a month! [Paper shuffling] Nicola: A month’s cruise then. GS: I came back on that! HB: So that’s the, I’ve done it again, I’ve take them off. GS: Can you spell that? HB: The Johan van Barneveld. GS: That’s it. HB: Looks like bit like an ocean going cruise ship, doesn’t it! GS: It was only about sixteen thousand ton! HB: Oh, small! Nicola: Dad, didn’t you see one of the little boats that you’d serviced, didn’t you see somewhere recently. GS: Oh yes, I went to Henlow, you know, to the museum there. As you went in, to go in to the museum, on the front was an air sea rescue and the actual [emphasis] one that I sailed in when I was at Singapore. HB: The same boat? GS: The same boat, same number: 2528. Nicola: You didn’t tell them though did you. GS: No. I knew. HB: Wow! That’s, so there was a group of you there, you obviously got on well, you know, and so you’d have had to take your leave while you were in Singapore, if you had leave. GS: I don’t think we did. I was at Seletar, in Singapore. There’s the - HB: Of course it’s got the flying boats, hasn’t it. GS: Oh yes. There was a Sunderland. That’s a high speed launch, those sort of things. HB: So these, this photograph album, we’re going to need to copy all this. GS: Are you? HB: There’s one you’d broken. GS: Yeah, that’s a spit that crash landed. There I am again. HB: Yes. We’re going to need to copy these I think, Geoff. GS: These are the - HB: They are the quarters. GS: They are the quarters. The Japs had them before we, after, before we got there, first thing they do took all the doors off the bogs so you had no privacy at all. [Laugh] HB: Ah, right. So, we’ve got you to Singapore, you’ve been on your high speed launches, I think what we’ll do, we’ll just have two minutes pause, right, in the interview, just while get our breath back and then we’ll come back to them. Right, we’ve switched back on, we’ve had a little bit of a break and Nicola, Geoff’s daughter’s just gone off to work, so we’ll just recommence the interview and so we’ve got to the demob in Singapore and all that business, but can we just take you back, back to your airfields, because at one point you did something a bit. GS: When I was at Fulbeck, we moved from Fiskerton to Fulbeck and I was on duty crew and we had a Stirling bomber come in to be refuelled, and me, being completely new to Stirling bombers, went up in the cockpit, turned the fuel line which I thought was the one, an elephant’s trunk came down and deposit about a hundred gallon of fuel on to the tarmac. [Sigh] And we had a bomb happy, as we used to call them, flak happy, sergeant flight engineer, saw what I’d done, he came up, he said don’t worry about it, so I shoved this fuel line back up into the aircraft and screwed the cock on. I said what about all the fuel on the deck and he said don’t worry about it, so he started the engine up, which in itself was bad enough, it blew the fuel away cause we were way [emphasis] out on dispersal, miles from anywhere you could say, but when Stirling bombers with Hercules engines start up, flames come out, and if it, that bloody aircraft had gone up in bloody flames, so would I! HB: Blimey! You’d have still been paying for it! Good grief Geoff! GS: We were on dispersal which was about as far side of the airfield from the Headquarters from about a mile and a half away, this was near Newark, Fulbeck is quite near Newark, and that’s what happened and that was an incident. I told my daughter about it and she was amazed, and I got away with it. HB: You must have had a few close shaves though. GS: Oh yeah, I did. Flying the aircraft, we did land with one Lancaster, when we were, where were we? I think it was at Fiskerton, and the undercart folded up and it broke the Lanc up actually, broke the imagine what it did to the props and that. HB: Was that landing on the main runway or did you get on the grass? GS: On the main runway, we were going along the runway and the undercart, hydraulics, it just collapsed, and that was dead dodgy. I remember that., but apart from that. HB: So where would you have been, when that happened, in the Lanc, where would you have been sat? GS: Usually on the flight engineer’s place because, usually, the flight engineer nearly always went with the pilot on, what do they call it? Air test or fighter affiliation and [cough] that’s when that happened, the undercart folded up, just the one wheel. It did a lot of damage. Props of course went on the port side and that was it. HB: You got away with that one as well. GS: I got away with that one as well. But then, from that one as well. And then from then on I made sure I picked the time I went, flew, went on the air test. [Chuckle] HB: Why was that? GS: I was getting scared to be quite honest. Yeah. There was another incident we had, I’ve forgotten what it was now. Something to do with Lancasters, but normally was a wonderful aircraft, you know. We had several crews that did a full tour of ops at Fiskerton. HB: Yeah. Did you, when you were at Fiskerton, did you always maintain the same aircraft or was it just parade in the morning and get one allocated? GS: When I was servicing them in the hangar, which was called the maintenance hangar. Different aircraft came in to be serviced. Fifty hour service, hundred hour service, hundred and fifty and then a major, major, but when I was on the flight, when you’re on the B Flight, which I went out on, I had to do the flight and, and sign the Form 700 which was meant that you, they didn’t all [emphasis] say you come, you can come fly with me, that was preservation by the pilot, if I’m going to die you’re going to die with me sort of business! HB: Good incentive to keep you up to speed. GS: Up to scratch. Cause I can remember quite well, I serviced one Lancaster, I remember it even now, I was on the port engine which you had to get a, you had a big service ladder to get up to it, and I had to fill it, the Lancaster engine got an oil at the back, thirty six gallon, and I went up to check the height of it, put the cap on as I thought and came down, thought nothing of it. And then the regular B Flight mechanic, he said, “everything all right?” I said yeah, he said, “I put that filler cap on properly for you.” HB: Ooh. GS: And there’s another incident. I thanked him profusely, I obviously hadn’t locked it properly. HB: Oh wow! GS: That could have been trouble. If he’d gone up, flight, and the filler cap had come off - HB: Difficult. GS: And I didn’t go on flight affiliation as they called it. They’d have a Lanc going up on air test and they’d have a Spitfire or Hurricane doing aerobatics, simulating getting at the rear gunner. Well I went, I only went up once on that because for the only time, I was sick, sick as a dog and I thought bugger flight affiliation from now on! HB: So fighter affiliation wasn’t one of your favourites! GS: No it wasn’t! HB: So this is when they practiced doing, did they call it corkscrew? GS: That’s right. HB: And you were in there when they did that. GS: I was in the back, I was in the rear turret at the time. It was horrible. HB: Right, so we’ve gone through, we’ve gone through the squadrons and you’ve gone to Singapore and you’re going to be demobbed and they’ve put you on the troop ship, in Malaya, how long did it take you to get home? GS: One month. I can remember it ever so well. We went from Singapore to Ceylon as it was then, I’ve forgotten the name of the town, and from then on we flew, we sailed from Ceylon up the Red Sea to Port Said and then across the Med and it was four weeks, and of course all the, everybody’s being demobbed on board that ship, so I can’t remember any details. HB: Was it, so it wasn’t like one big long, month long party then? GS: Oh no, oh no. I slept on deck, everybody else was, well most of them, slept in hammocks. And I couldn’t get on in a hammock, so I slept on deck and that was it and I went to East Kirkby and was demobbed. HB: So you landed back in England. GS: Southampton. HB: At Southampton, bunged you on a train. GS: Train. Up to East Kirkby. Demobbed and I was a civilian. HB: Did you get your suit? GS: Yes. Got me suit, and a yellow tie. [Laugh] I remember that ever so well. HB: Were you still a single man at this time, Geoff? GS: Yes, oh yes. I was twenty one going on twenty two. HB: But you’d met your wife before you went out to Singapore. Sorry, what was your wife called? GS: Hazel. HB: Hazel, right. So you met Hazel when you were in your uniform looking smart in the dance hall. So you’d obviously been writing, in the force. GS: Yes. I was running two women at the time! [Laugh] HB: Were you! Were you now! GS: I got rid of the one. HB: Ah right. Was that, that was another one back here was it? GS: Yeah. They were both back here. I remember I had the two photographs on the side of me bed, on the side of me billet in Singapore, and I used to say to the bloke which do you think’s the best out of those two and they always pointed to Hazel, she’s the homely type they used to say. HB: Oooh! GS: And that was it, I married her. We were married sixty three years. HB: That’s good. GS: Good going isn’t it. HB: It is, it is. So you came back to East Kirkby, you’ve been demobbed, back home to? GS: Back with my father in engineering. HB: Yep. That’s still in Erdington. GS: Yeah, and then, that’s right, my dad sold his business moved down to Falmouth as a farmer which didn’t work out: you’ve got to be born into farming and he did ten years before he came back north again. HB: So what did you do. I mean he went down there in 1950 did he, did you say? GS: Yes. HB: You’d stayed in till 47, hadn’t you? GS: Yes. HB: So, once he went down there what did you do, did you? GS: I went. We’d got another, one of dad’s younger [emphasis] brothers, he was in the shoe trade, and I had the option then and I went into the shoe trade for three years. It wasn’t very pleasant because he wasn’t a very pleasant man to work for, so I stayed with him for three years then I went back into toolmaking. I worked for Cincinnati, the big American company, making milling machines and all that. HB: You obviously enjoyed that. GS: Yeah. Better it was, yeah. HB: And that was you till, what, through to retirement I suppose. GS: Yes, I suppose it was. No! I stayed in the tool making trade, I worked for a company just down there on the estate for twenty seven years. HB: Wow! GS: Tool making. HB: So out of your, you know, I mean it was a difficult time, I mean the war had been running for three, nearly four years when you went in, when you actually got called up, and you’re living in Birmingham which was a big target. GS: Oh, it was! HB: So what was it, what, before you joined the RAF what it like living under this threat, really? GS: Before I went into the RAF, well Birmingham was bombed quite badly, like Coventry. If they missed Coventry it was Birmingham, because all the car industry as you know, is in this area and we were a real target because at that time dad worked for Castle Bromwich Aircraft Factory, which is just down there, making Spitfires, building Spitfires and he worked in the tool room there before he started on his own. That was quite a job. HB: So where you were living at Erdington, I mean they had bombing in that area, didn’t they. GS: Oh yes, quite a bit of bombing yeah. We were actually, there was only bombs locally, but none actually where I lived in Hollandy Road, there wan’t much. You’re going back seventy years now you know. HB: That’s right. GS: Trying to remember all these things. HB: Yeah, I mean mum and dad obviously, you know, you’ve got your sister, yourself, you know, there’d be that worry wouldn’t there. What did you do in the evening? Did you ever do fire watching or anything like that? GS: Yeah. When I was fourteen, when I left school, I was fire watching in the centre of Birmingham. I’d got a job, just a normal job in the, in tool making, er in the shoe industry and they got me fire watching. They gave me a stirrup pump and a bucket of water and go up on the top floor of this building and if they drop incendiaries: put ‘em out. Fourteen years old. HB: Good grief! GS: I remember that quite clearly. HB: Did you leave school, cause obviously you’re at work then, at fourteen, did you leave school with any certificates? GS: No, I didn’t get School Certificate. I left, I elected not to go to secondary school, which was from fourteen to sixteen, so I left at fourteen from the ordinary council school. I lived at Yardley then, on the south side of Birmingham. HB: Right, right. Of all your time in the RAF, in Bomber Command Geoff, what do you think was your best time, what was your best bit of being in the RAF? GS: Well, the activity when I was at Fiskerton. Oh yes, definitely. The fitter’s courses and flight mechanics courses was a chore. Just hard work it was really, but when I get, when I was at Fiskerton and also Fulbeck, and Waddington, which I was there. Waddington was the place to get to because it was an peace, it was an established squadron none of this nissen hut business or anything of that, and that was the place to go. But I wasn’t there long enough to appreciate it. It’s still there, isn’t it. I noticed that when I went to – yeah. HB: So what, we’ve said that was something you enjoyed, was being busy, and you’ve got all your mates and whatnot, so what did you do, when you weren’t on leave, what did you do for entertainment when you were on the squadron? GS: We used to go to the camp cinema and, thing I noticed mostly [emphasis] about the camp cinema, you went in there and you couldn’t see the screen for the smoke, cause everybody smoked at that time and I didn’t smoke and me eyes come out and they were watering permanently after that. HB: Oh right. So that moves us on. What was, what do you think was the worst bit of your service? GS: When I was at Holmesly South in the New Forest it was my twenty first birthday and I wanted a forty eight hour pass because me wife, me mother had got a big party organised for me. So I went to the SWO, Station Warrant Officer, and asked for a forty hour pass and he refused it. And I remember then I thought, when I get back into civvie street I’ll have you. [Laugh] Never did of course, but I remember it ever so well. He refused me a forty eight hour pass. He knew what it was for but didn’t show any compassion whatsoever. HB: And what did you think after the war, when the war ended, what did you think the sort of feeling was about Bomber Command? GS: [Sigh] Well, they lost so many men, in ’42 onwards to the, till D-Day, fifty five thousand men were killed, weren’t they. I, I thought that was absolutely terrible. All the aircrew, I got to knew them, when I was at Fiskerton, by name and they’d go on ops and didn’t come back. It was a horrible feeling all the while. Because at the time, when I was, now where was I, oh yes, at the end of my fitter’s course, yeah, you fixed for time, at, on the fitter’s course at Hen, Hendon, that’s right, near Bedford it is. HB: Halford? GS: Henlow, not Hendon, Henlow, near Bedford. I applied to go on a flight engineer’s course, which was accepted, at St Athan. I was posted and I got there: what have you come for? I said I’ve come to do an FE’s course. They said we don’t want any more, so they sent me back. Which was just as well because if I’d have done a flight engineer’s course, I’d have been there and gone on ops, I wouldn’t be here now, would I? There were so many casualties. I can remember one time we lost ninety eight aircraft one night, on ops. Lancasters, mostly. HB: Hmm. That’s a lot of men. GS: Well Lancaster aircraft, they’d only got, they’d got four guns in the rear turret, two on the upper turret and two in the front, but they were pathetic compared with German aircraft which had got canons. Twice the fire power. So that was the thing about Lancasters. But apart from that they had the biggest bombload, they could fly at twenty two thousand feet and none of the others couldn’t. If you had a relative that was on Halifaxes, they weren’t a patch on Lancasters, during the war. And Stirlings, they were a joke they were. The rear gunner in a Stirling his expectation of life was about a fortnight. [Whistle] It was awful, wasn’t it. HB: Hmm. Yeah. So the, when, did you ever do any sort of like Cook’s Tours when you came back? You did? GS: Yes, I did the one, over Germany. It was a revelation that was. When you flew at about ten thousand feet, something like that, and the debris, there was nothing left, of any of the towns. We didn’t fly over Berlin, but we did all the other ones. HB: How did you feel about that? GS: Terrible. You know, you thought why was this, all this necessary? That’s the way you looked at it, you know, because Nazis were the pigs, but an ordinary German, he was just another bloke to me. And that’s the way I feel about that. HB: Difficult. GS: Was difficult wan’t there. Is there anything I’ve missed on this? HB: I was going to say do you want to have a look at your list Geoff, is there, see if we’ve covered what you want to talk about. GS: [Pause] Karachi was the place I went to in India, on the west coast and then Calcutta on the east coast. Yes. I enjoyed me time when I was in the Air Training Corps 1940 to ’43. Fradley, Cosford. I did a week at Cosford in the Air Training Corps. Swinderby and Bovington. Bovington were, I’ve forgotten what aircraft they were. Twin engined, and I know that you had to wind the undercart up, ninety eight turns, I remember that because they hadn’t got hydraulic, retracting. Hinton in the Hedges was the place that really was a waste of time, with all those aircraft, all those, all those lorries and things. I can remember once, I had to go out on dispersal to bring, bring a lorry in for servicing and I got in it and started it up. I noticed it was in front wheel drive, so I moved out and it dropped on the deck – there was no back wheels on it! [laughter] I just got out and left it. So that’s another place I’d have, could have been a naughty boy! [cough] HB: Perhaps you were as well you didn’t stay there that long! GS: It was. Only there about a month. I got promotion while I was there. I remember ever so well. The sergeant, I was after me props, I’d got me one and I was after me LAC, and he asked a question. He said, “What do you know about errors of articulation?” Tell you, I remember this, and I said yes it was there, the Hercules, aircraft where the con rods were in a different position every stroke of the engine. “Good,” he said,” you’ve got that.” And that got me me props. HB: Did it? GS: Yes! HB: So that made you a Leading Aircraftsman. GS: Group One Leading Aircraftsman, which was quite good. But I should have got me tapes when I was doing the flight engineer’s course. But that was it. HB: Well I think, it’s quarter past twelve, and I think we’ve sort of come to bit of a natural conclusion Geoff. GS: Yes. HB: So, I’m going to terminate the interview now while we just sort your photographs out and how we’re gonna handle them. I want to thank you, honestly, it’s been a really [emphasis] enjoyable interview. You said to me in the break, oh we’ve been all over the place. It doesn’t matter. GS: It’s very disjointed. HB: What you’ve told us is important, and it’s also interesting. And we’ll forget quietly about pushing the wrong button for the fuel for the Stirling! So thank you very much. GS: Well, I wonder about that flight engineer, he was flak happy as they called it during the war. And the fact that we got away with it, I said to him afterwards, I said, what about if, we’d have had flames out the Hercules, we must have had some, but didn’t see them, well that would have been curtains, I said bloody will and I’ll have been with you! HB: Oh dear! Right, well thanks ever so much Geoff. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Geoffrey Charles Spencer Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Harry Bartlett Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2019-01-23 Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context ASpencerGC190123, PSpencerGC1901 Description An account of the resource Geoffrey Spencer grew up in Birmingham and worked with his father in tool making, carrying out fire watching as a youngster. He joined the Air Force in August 1943, aged 18. After training, he served as a flight mechanic and fitter with 49 Squadron at RAF Fiskerton and 189 Squadron at RAF Fulbeck. He worked in the maintenance hangar and on the flights, and describes a crash landing in a Lancaster after an air test, as well as an accident while refuelling a Stirling. He was posted to Singapore in 1945, where he serviced engines on high-speed launches. He was de-mobbed in July 1947 and, after the war, worked in the tool making industry in the UK until he retired. Language A language of the resource eng Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain Singapore England--Bedfordshire England--Birmingham England--Lincolnshire England--Shropshire England--Warwickshire Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1944 1945 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 00:53:04 audio recording Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Anne-Marie Watson Maureen Clarke 189 Squadron 49 Squadron bombing civil defence Cook’s tour crash demobilisation entertainment FIDO fitter engine flight mechanic fuelling ground crew ground personnel home front Lancaster love and romance RAF Cardington RAF Cosford RAF East Kirkby RAF Fiskerton RAF Fulbeck RAF Henlow RAF Swinderby Spitfire Stirling training York https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/2809/49884/PSkepperRL2401.jpg bd88f08e463307229b52a08283fef932 https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/files/original/2809/49884/ASkepperRL240710.mp3 9ace195ce4f993eb19f3c5e7dc83c183 Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Skepper, Richard Leslie Dick Skepper Description An account of the resource An oral history interview with Leading Aircraftman Richard Leslie 'Dick' Skepper (1924 - 2026, 1627932 Royal Air Force). He served as a flight mechanic with 7 Squadron. The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff. Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2024-07-10 Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context Skepper, RL Transcribed audio recording A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice. Transcription Text transcribed from audio recording or document HB: This is an interview on behalf of the International Bomber Command Centre Digital Archive with Mr Richard Skepper who is currently living in Warwickshire in a care home and Harry Bartlett a volunteer interviewer. It’s the 10th of July 2024 and the time now is 10:55. Right. Now then, Dick. We can start. Where were you born and brought up, Dick? RS: Well, I was born in Kent. HB: Right. Whereabouts in Kent? RS: That’s a good question. HB: Try the tricky ones first. DS: Sevenoaks. You were born in Sevenoaks, dad. HB: Sevenoaks. DS: Sevenoaks. HB: Right. We’ve got present in the room is David Skepper, Dick’s son who will help us out where he can. RS: Yeah. HB: But it’s basically down to you now Dick. It’s all in your hands. When you left school can you remember what you did for a job when you first left school? RS: When I left school. Oh crikey. HB: It don’t matter if you can’t. RS: It was in — HB: We’ll skip that one Dick. We’ll skip that one. What, can you remember what you were doing when you actually joined up? RS: When I actually joined up it was my mother. HB: Oh right. RS: She decided that I was going to join the Air Force. Yeah. And she, that’s where we went. So we went to Croydon and she came with me and that was how I came to you know be in the Air Force and join up. Yeah. HB: And so, so you volunteered. But your mum volunteered you. RS: That’s right [laughs] DS: I think, I think, did you want to be a tank driver, Dad? Was that you wanted? RS: Eh? DS: Did you want to be a tank driver? RS: Oh definitely. Yeah. DS: That’s what he talked about. RS: If I had had my way I would have been a tank driver without doubt. HB: Right. Right. Okay. RS: It was something that I’d always been interested in. Tanks. Driving. DS: Yeah. RS: Things like that. HB: Right. RS: In my day. HB: But mum decided differently. DS: Yes, she did. HB: So, mum’s got you to Croydon and you volunteered to join the RAF. RS: Yeah. HB: Right. Was that 1940? RS: Yes, it would be about 1940. HB: Yeah. RS: Definitely. HB: So, you’ve gone to join. How, how did they decide that you would do your job in the RAF? You know, because you were a flight mechanic weren’t you? RS: I was. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: How, how did they decide you would be a flight mechanic? [pause] HB: Had you got experience of working with engines? RS: It was certain. Let’s think. [pause] HB: Yeah. It’s alright Dick if, I mean if you can’t. If you can’t remember that sort of detail don’t worry about it. So you joined the RAF. Right. The war is going on. So, can you remember where you went for training? [pause] HB: So there were quite a few training centres for the flight mechanics. I mean there was one in Wales. St Athan. RS: St Athans. HB: You did. You went to St Athans. RS: Yes. HB: Right. RS: That’s right. HB: Yeah. RS: How did you know St Athans? HB: It’s almost like I’m telepathic. RS: Yeah. HB: St Athans by the time you joined — RS: Yeah. HB: The Air Force in 1942 St Athans was probably the biggest training centre for — RS: Yeah. HB: Flight mechanics and there was another group there as well. St Athan. Something. It might have been air frame or something like that but yeah. So, so you’re at St Athans. RS: Yeah. HB: And you had to learn all about the engines. RS: Yes, that’s right. HB: Yeah. Can you remember what you learned? RS: Well, that’s where I learned [unclear] the — HB: If I gave you some of the engine names would it help? [pause] HB: Vulture. The Vulture engine. RS: No. HB: No. Merlin. RS: Yes. Oh yeah. HB: Yeah. RS: The Merlin was the best engine that we owned. HB: Was it? Right. Did you ever work on the Hercules engine? RS: On the — HB: Hercules engine that they had on, they had the Halifax and they had some, some were fitted to. RS: Not on the Halifax. I never — HB: Yeah. RS: I never did work on a Halifax. HB: Right. RS: No. HB: Right. RS: No. HB: So, so you, you worked, you learned, you’re learning how to work on the Merlin engines. RS: Yes. HB: Quite complicated engines aren’t they? RS: Yeah. Rolls Royce. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. And what, and can, can you remember what your sort of routine work would be on them? [pause] HB: Not, not to worry, Dick. Not to worry. It’s just, it’s just different. RS: Yeah. HB: Different people remember different things about the Merlin engine, you know. RS: The Merlin engine was. It was a V engine. HB: Yeah. RS: And I always said that it was you know the best V engine that the RAF had really. It was, it was a good, a great engine. HB: Yeah. Was it, was it air cooled or water cooled? Or glycol cooled? RS: It was water cooled. HB: Right. RS: No. Air cooled, air cooled was Hercules. HB: Right. RS: That was the, that was as you say air cooled as opposed to the Merlin one I think. HB: Did that make it more complicated to work on? RS: No, I don’t really think so. It was I think — [pause] HB: It don’t matter. That sort of detail don’t really matter Dick. So, you did your training, you got to the big parade at the end where you passed out and you would be, what would you be? An aircraftsman? Or a leading aircraftsman? RS: No. I was an aircraftsman. HB: Right. So, you’ve passed out. You’ve been trained. You’re a flight mechanic and you’re going to work on — RS: That’s right. Flight mechanic. HB: Right. And known as a flight mech I’m told. RS: Yes. True. HB: So, you then got posted. Did you, did you get posted straight away or did you go somewhere else before you got posted? Can you remember that? [pause] RS: Down at St Athans was one of the first places that I went to, you know. To complete my training anyway. HB: Yeah. Yeah. RS: That’s down in Wales. HB: That’s right. Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. So, so you ended up in 7 Squadron. RS: I did indeed. HB: At Oakington. RS: Oakington. HB: And so you were there in 1942 and you’ve got your job. It’s all secure. And you’re going to work on the engines. What sort of aircraft did they have at the time? RS: Good gracious. I should really remember that. HB: Would it have been the Stirling? RS: It was the Stirling in, no the Lancaster. HB: The Lancaster. RS: That was the plane. HB: Right. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. Did you ever get to work on Stirlings? RS: Yes. HB: You did. RS: Yes. In fact, it was one of the first I worked on. HB: Yeah. Yeah. RS: It was, I suppose. Well. It weren’t the best of them but — HB: Right. Was it, was it difficult to work on? RS: I’d much rather work on the Lancaster than that any day. HB: I’m told it was very high. RS: Yes, it was. A long way up. HB: Yeah. RS: Yes, it was indeed. How did you know that? HB: Oh, it’s amazing what people have told me. RS: It is. Yeah. It was. HB: So, so the Stirling is out there. What? Did you used to work on the dispersal areas on the airfield? RS: Yes. I used to mostly outside, you know and I liked, enjoyed my time on there. It was, I know it wasn’t the best of the Air Force planes not like the Lancaster and all those sort of things. HB: Yeah. RS: But I liked the old Stirling. HB: Yeah. RS: It was — yeah. HB: Yeah. And did you, did you used to do the form that they used to give the pilot before they took off? RS: Yeah, the form 700. HB: There you go. RS: Yeah. HB: So, they’ve all got ready. They’re all going to go on an operation. Your aeroplane’s on the dispersal ready and you’re down there with it. So, what would, what would normally happen then? You’ve been working on the aeroplane. They’re going to go and fly off on an operation. What, what would normally happen then, Dick? [pause] HB: Did they run the engines up before they got going or did you stand there while they ran the engines up? [pause] RS: Right near the [pause] HB: That’s not, that’s not that important Dick at all. So, you’re out on the dispersal. They’re going to go out on an operation. You’ve got the engines ready and you’ve got the form 700. RS: Yeah. HB: What do you do with the form 700? RS: The crew signed it. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: And why did they sign the form? Is that, is there a reason why they have to sign the form? RS: Yeah, to say that, you know they checked through the, that we had done everything which we needed to do with the plane. So that the crew was happy that it was. That we’d done everything that was necessary for it really. Yeah. HB: Yeah. Did you always work on the same aeroplane, Dick? RS: Not always. No. Quite often you know you used to get attached to a particular plane. You know so if the opportunity was there to keep on the same plane you always used to try and do that. HB: Yeah. Did you have your favourites? RS: Yes. HB: I thought you would. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. Well can you remember what your favourite was? RS: [pause] The favourite plane was the Lancaster. HB: Yeah. RS: Without a doubt. HB: Yeah. RS: The Stirling was, you know it was a much slower plane. HB: Yeah. Yeah. RS: It wasn’t one that you could fall in love with. HB: No. No. RS: No. HB: Would you call it a bit of an ugly duckling? RS: Could do. HB: Yeah. RS: Could do quite easily compared with the Lancaster. HB: Yeah. RS: And that sort of thing. HB: Yeah. RS: It was. But it was the first four engine plane the RAF had. So it was from that point of view it was very useful because it got everybody used to using four engines and looking after them. HB: Yeah. RS: If that was your job on the ground there was you know you’d got to. You used to start off with the port outer engine. That was because it was the, a bare engine as you might call it. It didn’t have any auxiliaries with it or anything like that. HB: Right. RS: And that’s how you got to learn about the, you know the aircraft and planes themselves and so that was you know I was really interested in that. HB: Yeah. RS: I know — [pause] HB: Somebody told me once that each of the engines did certain things for the aircraft so so I think one of them did the electrics for, you know the navigator and all that or all the internal electrics. Different engines did different jobs as well as fly the plane. Do you remember any of them? Because the port outer didn’t have anything on it. RS: The port outer was a bare engine. HB: Yeah. RS: And the one you always used to try to get was the starboard inner. HB: Starboard inner. RS: Starboard inner engine. Everybody wanted the starboard engine because it was the, it had all the auxiliaries with it and everything. HB: Ah right. RS: You know so when you’d made that you couldn’t go any higher anyway. HB: Right. RS: So that’s, that was what everybody wanted. HB: So how many flight mechs would be working on, on the aircraft? RS: How many flight mechs? HB: Yeah. RS: What? On one? HB: On say the Stirling. RS: Well, you’d work on mostly if possible you’d stick with the same one. HB: Right. The same engine. RS: Yes, so well no. Not the same engine because as I said you started off with the bare port outer [pause] I’ll get the bloody thing right. HB: Don’t worry, Dick. Don’t worry about it. RS: It was. HB: You tell it how it is. RS: Yeah, it was the port outer engine and you used to as I said try to keep, work your way up to go from the starboard. It wasn’t the starboard. It was when we used to try to — HB: You went from the port outer. RS: To get to the — [pause] yeah [pause] HB: So you had this ambition to go from the port outer and the ultimate, the real prize was to work on the starboard inner. RS: The starboard inner. HB: Yeah. With all the auxiliary power. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. Right. RS: It was the object to get to the starboard engine. Apart from the, like as I say you started off with the port outer which was a bare engine. HB: Yeah. RS: And then you were, your first thing was to try to get to the starboard inner engine which had all the auxiliaries in it and that. HB: Yeah. RS: And so, you know it was the engine that you wanted to look after. HB: Yeah. RS: Because as I said it was everything on it that you wanted. HB: Yeah. RS: The, well the aircrew needed and that. Yeah. I know I really enjoyed working on there. HB: When you were with the Stirlings did you get close to any of the crews? RS: With the Stirling? HB: Yeah, when you were on, when you were working on the Stirlings did you get close to any of the actual aircrew flying the aircraft? RS: Yes. An Australian was, was one that I always remember on our aircrew. He was an Australian bloke. Yeah. HB: Did you go socialising with them? Did you go down the pub with them? RS: Did I? HB: Did you go to the pub with them? RS: No. HB: With the aircrew? RS: No. You used to get, if the opportunity was there to get a flight you’d always take it. HB: Oh right. RS: Yeah. Because you, well as I said like you always tried to work on the same plane and the same engine and like if you got attached to a particular plane. HB: Yeah. RS: You always wanted that one. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: So if they did, if they flew before they went on an operation if they flew an air test. RS: Yeah. HB: That you would try and get a flight with that? RS: If, yeah because that’s one of the things that they used to do was to take some flights and you know you’d use a good a chance for an opportunity to fly with them on the first flights and that. That wasn’t an operational flight. HB: Yeah. RS: You was taking off airborne but it was, it wasn’t an operational flight. HB: Yeah. RS: But it was a nice opportunity to gain. HB: Did you, did you enjoy it? RS: Yeah. Yeah. HB: You did. RS: I did. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: So you weren’t one of those that tried to sneak onboard when they were flying on an operation then. RS: No. HB: I’ve heard stories about some of the flight mechanics in particular sneaking onto the aircraft and going off on an operation. RS: As far as I know they didn’t. I certainly didn’t. HB: No. RS: I can’t think of any of the lads, the mechanics like me. HB: Yeah. RS: And you know, who did that because you felt really you know you’d got responsibility for the plane. HB: Yeah. RS: Make sure that it was up to date then. You know, you really, it was, well you considered it was your responsibility you know to make sure that everything on that plane before it took off on operational was you’d been out with it. HB: Yeah. RS: And you used to fly with it then. HB: Yeah. RS: But it wasn’t an operational flight. HB: No. No. RS: But you know we were, the operational chance was a flight was possible to get air flight with it. HB: Yeah. Did you [coughs] excuse me so you worked with the ground crew. So, you’d got the fitters and the technicians and those sort of people. Were you, were you sort of friendly with your own crew? Your own ground crew. Were they your mates that worked on the same aeroplane with you? Because there would be a few of you wouldn’t there? They were one or two of you on the ground crew. RS: Oh, you mean looking after the plane. HB: Yeah. RS: And that. Oh yeah. How many? There would probably be around about seven of us used to be responsible for making sure that everything was right for the plane and that before it went on operational flights. But you didn’t go on an operational flight with them. HB: No. No. RS: You did go on plenty of flights. HB: Yeah. RS: With them but not operational ones. HB: Yeah. So, so [coughs] excuse me when you were working on the aeroplane, after you’d finished working on the aeroplanes what would you do? Go to the NAAFI? That sort of thing on the, on the airfield. Is that where you got your meals? [pause] HB: It’s not too important Dick. Don’t worry about it. RS: I’ve got my — HB: So, as a group, as a group of chaps have you got any, had you got any WAAFs working with you? Had you got any WAAFs working with you? Oh, what’s happened? DS: I think he’s taken his, leave it dad. Don’t. You won’t hear any, I don’t think you’ll hear any better if you take them off. RS: Right. HB: Did you have any WAAFs working with you? RS: WAAFs. Yeah. HB: You did. RS: Oh yeah. HB: What were they doing? [pause] RS: Well, the first thing, I suppose the main thing was the WAAFs and that was all parachutists. HB: Yeah. RS: They’d make sure, you know the, that the parachutes and that were properly packed up. HB: Yeah. RS: So that you know when they took off and they had their parachutes with them and that. They knew very well that if they had to jump that it was everything was going to be worked alright because the WAAFs and that had made sure that the whole thing was packed up properly. HB: Did you have any WAAF drivers? RS: Yes. Oh yeah. Plenty of WAAF drivers. Yeah. HB: Yeah. What sort of things did they drive? RS: They used to drive around the airfield. Like that. There was plenty of them. Yeah. HB: What sort of things were they driving? RS: Eh? HB: What sort of things were they driving? What sort of — RS: What sort of thing? Oh, what vehicles did they drive? HB: Yeah. RS: Actually, right from quite small one to very big ones. The WAAFs would drive them. HB: Yeah. RS: They were just as good driving the big ones as they were the smaller ones. HB: Yeah. RS: They were good drivers. They think the, they had good training and you know they were good drivers. HB: Yeah. RS: They really were. HB: So did you go to dances with the WAAFs? Did you go to dances with the WAAFs? RS: Did you go to —? HB: Dances. To a dance on the airfield for entertainment in the evening. For entertainment. RS: Sorry. I can’t hear you. HB: Right. What did you do in the evening? Did you go dancing with the WAAFs? RS: Did you go with a —? HB: Did you go dancing with the WAAFs? RS: Oh, dancing. Bloody thing was [pause] I never had any dancing in the wartime. But afterwards I really got to love dancing. HB: Oh right. RS: I really did. HB: Right. RS: All I say. HB: Yeah. RS: I kick myself for not bloody well doing more because once I got used to it I really did like dancing. HB: Right. RS: Yeah. HB: That’s good. RS: Well, my wife and I did as well and I think that was one of the reasons you know because she enjoyed it and then the two of us went. HB: Yeah. RS: We really did have a good time. HB: So, so you were a bit slow to learn. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. In, so you, when you finished with the Stirling you went to the Lancaster. RS: Right. HB: Yeah. RS: Yes. I don’t think there was anything in between that I went — HB: Yeah. RS: I went from the Stirling to the Lancaster. HB: What did you do with the Lanc? RS: Sorry? HB: What did you do with the Lancaster? RS: In the Lancaster it was one of the jobs that I used to always get lumbered with was to sit alongside the pilot. And what I wanted to do was to fly in the bloody rear turret. HB: The rear turret. RS: Yeah. If I had an opportunity to fly in the rear turret and that I thought that was great fun to me. HB: Yeah. RS: But unfortunately, it was mine was mostly sitting alongside the pilot. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. The flight engineer. HB: Yeah. RS: That was my position. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Did you, did you spend time with the flight engineers? Did you spend time with the flight engineer? RS: Did I spend time with it? HB: With the engineer. The flight engineer. RS: Yeah. With the flight engineer. Oh yeah. Yeah, as I said. I did a lot of flying as a flight engineer. I’d have rather have been in different places and as I said — HB: Yeah. RS: I would have loved to have been a rear gunner or something like that. You know. I loved shooting. I was good at bloody shooting. HB: Were you? RS: I really was. I could hit anything when I was shooting. HB: Did, did you apply to be an air gunner? RS: Hmmn? HB: Did you ever apply to be an air gunner? RS: No. As I said the trouble was that I flew as a flight engineer alongside the pilot. HB: Yeah. RS: And I think it was because of my engineering side and that that I was always — HB: Yeah. RS: Got lumbered with sitting next to the pilot. It used to annoy me at times. But there it was. HB: Yeah. RS: You did what you were told to bloody well do. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. So you didn’t you didn’t think of volunteering as an air gunner. You didn’t think to volunteer as an air gunner. RS: Not as an air gunner. I didn’t. No. I think it was mainly because I used to, once I got to fly alongside the pilot I found it quite interesting. HB: Okay. RS: Because there was, you had, there were four levers for you know and you used to help the old pilot out but I thought that was a nice position to be in. HB: Yes. RS: I did like that. Yeah. HB: So you were working on [coughs] excuse me again. So you were working on Lancasters, working on the engines and once they’d flown, once they’d taken off and gone on an operation did you used to come back and wait for them to land? RS: When they had gone as you say on a flight, on an operational flight and such you were always, well I would always liked to know that it was back alright and everything like that. You was interested in that particular plane. HB: Yeah. RS: You’d spend a lot of time you know working on it. Working on the engines. HB: Yeah. RS: As far as I was concerned. HB: Yeah. RS: But of course, you could be working on a different part of it. It depends on what you were, what they found that you were better at. HB: Yeah. RS: And looking afterwards. HB: Yeah. RS: And I, as I say I did like the Lancaster and that was, it was a good plane. HB: Yeah. Did you, did you lose many aeroplanes Dick? Did you lose many aeroplanes? Did you lose many aeroplanes? RS: Did we lose many aeroplanes? Too many as far as I was concerned. We did lose quite a few. Yeah. Yeah. I was always a [pause] something that you really did miss. The fact that you’d lost some of your like the ones the crews that we whether he was ground or flying or anything like that. It was always a particular aircraft that you’d get attached to. I don’t know why because most of the Lancasters they were all the same but they seemed to be different because you used to get so attached to it. HB: Yeah. RS: I know I used to love the old Lancaster. HB: Did you, did you — RS: But I — sorry. HB: No. No. You carry on. RS: No, I was just going to say the Halifaxes are nice but I could never get on with that, you know. HB: Yeah. Did, did you, did you actually go on any of the end of tour, you know when the aircrew did thirty? They did thirty operations and they ended the tour did you ever go out with them to celebrate? RS: Did I celebrate when they came back or anything like that? No. I can’t recall us doing that. No. I know what you mean now but when the end of an operational flight or anything like that the, I don’t recall us you know all getting in sort of together and go out. HB: No. No. RS: No. HB: No. RS: The, one of the things they used to love to do was they’d get black smoke and burned flying across the ceilings and that. HB: What? In the pub? RS: Yeah. I don’t know why [laughs] but for some reason or other it seemed to be a good thing to do. HB: Yeah. Did they write their name in it? Did they write their names? RS: Oh yeah. Yeah. HB: In it. RS: They did. Yeah. I thought that was really [pause] I can’t understand why we did some of the things like that but — HB: Yeah. RS: I suppose it was just being a [pause] HB: So, Dick, what else did you get up to? What else did you get up to? [pause] Or is that all a secret? [pause] HB: Can you, can you remember where your favourite pub was? Can you? Did you have a favourite pub? RS: Yeah. The, the favourite pub was just down the road from there. We used to get through a hole in the hedge and off down there. Yeah. Yeah. We did. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. It was handy because as I say we could break through the old hedge and down there and then to the pub. HB: Did you ever get caught? RS: I didn’t anyway. I wouldn’t like to say there weren’t some of them got caught but — HB: Yeah. RS: It was your luck I suppose really. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. So, you carried on working on the Lancasters right through to the end of the war. RS: Halifaxes no. HB: No. Lancasters. RS: Lancasters. HB: You worked on the Lancaster right to the end of the war. RS: I did indeed. HB: Yeah. RS: A lovely plane. One you — HB: Did they change? Did they change very much, Dick? Did the Lancaster change very much towards the end of the war? RS: I think the Lancaster lasted right to the end. It was — HB: Yeah. RS: Well, as far as I was concerned right to the end it was the best bomber. It had the best bomb bay. There wasn’t a bomber of any country American or anything that beat it. It was an enormous bomb bay and I think the Lancaster with the size of its enormous bomb bay was fantastic. It really was. HB: Yeah. Yeah. So as you come towards the end of the war, Dick what, what were you looking forward to as the war was coming to the end? What were you looking forward to? [pause] RS: Well, I as you know as far as I was concerned was mostly engineering. HB: Yeah. RS: And I got attached to being interested or at least, or the main thing I was interested in was aircraft engines and that. HB: Yeah. RS: I really did like that. HB: Yeah. RS: Because I liked the old Merlins and they were with the V engines. They were lovely engines to, to work on. HB: Yeah. Did you, did you, do you remember being demobbed? Do you remember what you had to do for your demob? RS: Went — HB: Do you remember what you had to do for your demob? When you finished. RS: Oh when — HB: When you actually finished at the end of the war. RS: When I finished. HB: Yeah. DS: I think dad stayed in service until 1947. That’s when he — HB: Yeah. DS: He left the RAF in 1947. HB: So you stayed in after the war then, Dick. RS: No, I was thinking. I was thinking the period like when the fighting finished. HB: Yeah. RS: And all I did was to [pause] become because I know this [pause] HB: Was there a chance Dick that your squadron might have had to go to the Far East to fight. To fight the Japanese? RS: Yes. Alec was the one who went out to the Pacific and that was my middle brother. HB: Right. RS: Yeah. HB: Right. RS: And he, he went out there and unfortunately I didn’t get — HB: You didn’t. RS: The opportunity. HB: Right. RS: No. HB: Right. RS: But — HB: Yeah. RS: Geoffrey, he got stuck in the Channel with [pause] what was it? HB: What service was he in? Was he in the Navy? RS: I know I didn’t get the opportunity that he did. DS: I think dad’s two brothers were both in the RAF. HB: Were they? DS: Yeah. HB: Right. DS: Either. HB: Oh right. RS: Yeah. DS: Two brothers there I think. HB: Oh right. DS: The one in the bottom left-hand corner is Alec who was posted off to Asia. HB: Yeah. DS: And then the one on the, sorry the right-hand corner is Alec posted off to Asia and the bottom left is Geoff. The one dad is talking about there. HB: Yeah. We’re looking at a picture of a Lancaster. A lovely print of a Lancaster with pictures of Dick and his two brothers. DS: And his father who fought in the First World War just on the — HB: Behind the — DS: In the left-hand corner. HB: Right. DS: Yeah. HB: Wow. That’s a lovely picture, Dick. RS: It is and our father in the top corner. He was in the First World War and of course when the Second World War came on he didn’t actually take part in the fighting in the Second World War. He did in the First World War but in the second one he, I think he got [laughs] he was getting a bit old probably. HB: Yeah. Quite probably. Yeah. Yeah. It’s a sad thing isn’t it? RS: Yeah. HB: It’s always the youngsters that go to war. DS: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Yeah. Just one thing I forgot to ask you, Dick. Did you ever go on one of the Cook’s tour flights? RS: Oh yeah. Cook’s tour. How did you know about them? HB: Well — RS: Yeah. Yeah. HB: That was in a Lancaster was it? RS: In a Lancaster. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: And they flew you out. Where did you go? Can you remember? The Ruhr Valley? [pause] RS: We went over, over the water there. No, it wasn’t the Channel. It must have been the North Sea. HB: Yeah. RS: So it was definitely flying over the North Sea with them. Yeah. Yeah. Of course that was interesting. HB: Did you see what, did you see much of the damage? Did you see much of the damage that they’d done when they were bombing? RS: The damage yeah. [pause] France, Belgium, were two areas where we saw quite a bit of damage. Where else was it? Of course, we went down to the Mediterranean and what was that place where I went? [pause] HB: It’s not, it’s not too important, Dick. Really. Dick, can I just ask you one thing, Dick? Towards the end of the war did you take part in the, when the, did you get the aeroplanes ready for when they took the food? RS: Yeah. HB: To the Dutch. RS: Yeah. We did. What was I going to say? I’ve forgotten what it was called. Cook’s. HB: Operation — RS: Cook’s tour? No. HB: No. Operation Manna. RS: Operation Manna. Yes. HB: And your, did your squadron take part in that? RS: Yes. Yeah. Yes, it did. HB: Yeah. That was quite an important job wasn’t it really? RS: Yeah. It was. HB: And did they actually fly out from your airfield at Oakenfield? Sorry. Oakington. Did they fly out from Oakington to go to Holland? Or did they go somewhere else to get the food? RS: Oh, to get the food. RS: Yeah. HB: Did they fly straight out of Oakington to go to Holland with the food? Can you remember? It’s not important if you don’t you know. [pause] HB: Yeah. That’s alright, Dick. You know when the war finished and you stayed in. You stayed in after the war finished. RS: Yes. HB: Didn’t you? What were you doing the same job all the way through? RS: Yeah. Mostly servicing Lancasters. HB: Yeah. RS: I can remember doing those. HB: And was that still at Oakington? RS: Hmmn? HB: Was that still at Oakington? RS: Oakington. HB: Yeah. Were you still at Oakington when you did that? RS: Let me think. At Oakington [pause] No. It wasn’t at Oakington. It was, what the hell was the name of that place? HB: It’s not important Dick. RS: It’s amazing how you lose the track of these bloody places really. HB: Yeah. RS: I did because I — HB: Just to take you back a little bit when you, when you were at Oakington with the Lancasters. RS: Yeah. HB: Did you come across Wing Commander Craig? They used to call him Pathfinder Craig. RS: No, I can’t recall him. HB: Right. That’s no — RS: No. No. No. HB: He was, he was with the squadron but I didn’t know if you — RS: Yeah. HB: If you’d come across his name. Yeah. No, that’s not important. I’ve got some, I’ve got some bits of paper. I don’t know if you can see these very well but I’ve got a, I’ve got a picture of a Lancaster and the pilot was called McCullough and he was an Australian. And that’s got the ground crew with it. [pause] HB: Can you see them alright, Dick? [pause] HB: Just have a look at that. I didn’t know if, the trouble is the research doesn’t give a lot of details. DS: No. No. HB: There’s another one here, Dick. Theres another one there. That’s the, that was the ground crew that did all the radar at Oakington. I didn’t know if you knew any of them. [pause] RS: 1945. There’s some WAAFs there. HB: Yeah. RS: Blimey [laughs] two, three, four, five, six [pause] that’s odd. HB: I didn’t know if you recognised any of them. [pause] HB: I’ve got another one here, Dick. [pause] HB: I’ve got another picture here, Dick of MG-J for Johnny. RS: MG. HB: MG J for Johnny. RS: MG. That was my squadron. HB: Yeah. RS: MG. HB: And that, that’s a crew that was lost. RS: And J-Johnny. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah, J-Johnny. HB: That was, that’s got some ground crew in there in that picture. That was, that was lost. I wrote it on the bottom there. That was lost. That was lost in April 1944 that one. The aeroplane was shot down and the crew were lost. But it’s got some ground crew on there and I didn’t know if you knew any of them. [pause] RS: There’s no WAAFs in that one at all. Lancaster the bomber behind. HB: Yeah. Yeah, definitely. RS: It’s a Lancaster. HB: Yeah. Oh well. Thanks ever so much for having a look, Dick. I didn’t know if it would jog your memory at all. RS: MG J-Johnny. HB: Yeah. RS: Oh dear. HB: Did you work, did you work on that aeroplane? RS: Hmmn? HB: Did you work on that aeroplane? RS: I was thinking. I’m just trying to recall. MG definitely. HB: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. RS: Yeah, yeah. I worked on most of the MGs. Yeah. I was just looking to see if I could see myself. HB: Yeah. Well, I wondered. I did wonder. RS: Yeah. HB: There’s a couple on there – RS: Yeah. HB: Could be you. RS: Yeah, because I, on the MGs I worked on most of those. HB: Yeah. RS: Yeah. HB: Well – RS: It would be nice to recognise myself. HB: Yeah. Well, we’re coming up, we’re coming up to an hour, Dick. We’ve come up to about an hour in the interview now so and it’s not far off dinnertime is it? RS: Yes, it is. Yeah. HB: You know when, when you finally came out the RAF, Dick. What did you, what did you do when you came when you finished in the RAF? [pause] HB: Did you carry on in engineering? [pause] RS: I worked with animals. HB: With animals? RS: Yeah. HB: Oh right. Farm animals? RS: Farm animals. Yeah. HB: Yeah. RS: I did. Yeah. I enjoyed it. My time working with them. Yeah. I don’t know how I came to do that. DS: Did you work, did you work at Vauxhall as well for a while, dad? In Luton. RS: Yeah. I wonder why, how I got lumbered with that. But I enjoyed it. HB: Yeah. So you went to work, you went to work for Vauxhall at Luton. Was it you went to work for Vauxhall at Luton? Vauxhall at Luton. RS: Luton. HB: Yeah. DS: For Vauxhall. Do you remember dad? RS: Yeah. But no. Well when I say no I was wrong in a way because I did go there but I did not like it. HB: No. RS: I went to what was it? DS: Was it the Rootes Group? RS: It was [pause] oh dear. I really enjoyed myself there. DS: At Rootes. RS: Rootes. DS: Rootes Group. Yeah. That’s where he was. HB: Oh right. RS: Yeah. They were really really good. How did you come to remember that? DS: Because you’ve told me before. I remembered. RS: I must have done in actual fact. But I did. Yes. It was really good days. HB: So that’s when they were making the Hillman cars. The Hillman cars. Rootes Group – DS: Yes. HB: Were making Hillmans. DS: Hillman Minx. HB: Hillman Minx. Hillman Imp. DS: The Hillman Imp and The Hillman Minx. RS: The Hillman Imp. HB: Yeah. RS: Oh, yeah. I remember the old Imp. Yeah. It was a lovely little old plane [laughs] plane. It wasn’t a plane. It was a bloody car. DS: Yes. Yeah. Yeah. HB: So, so after, so after the war. You met your wife after the war. RS: Yeah. HB: Had she, had your wife been in in the Services in the war? Had your wife been in the Services in the war? During the war. RS: Green. DS: They actually, they got married on the 30th of June 1945. HB: Right. DS: Dad was twenty one when they got married. That was his twenty first birthday. HB: Yeah. DS: When they got married. I don’t think he remembers that. Do you remember when you got married to mum it was 1945. Your twenty first birthday. So your birthday was the same day that you got married. RS: My birthday was the 30th. DS: Yes, and you got married on the 30th of June 1945. RS: Yes, I did. DS: Yes. RS: Yeah. HB: So did you meet your wife in the RAF? RS: No. Reine wasn’t in the RAF. I can’t even remember how I — DS: Did you tell me that story that someone gave you her address to write to? You told me that you, someone gave you, one of your friends gave you her address because you wanted to write to her. RS: Oh yeah. DS: A sweetheart. RS: That’s true. That’s how I got — DS: That’s how you met her. RS: Yeah. That’s how I come to because he gave, he said, ‘Write to her.’ That’s right. Yeah. And I ended up by marrying her. DS: Yes. Cool eh. RS: Yeah. Sort of, yeah. HB: Right. Well, I think — RS: It’s true though. HB: I think we’ve kept you going long enough, Dick. I would think you’re getting a bit tired now. RS: Might [laughs] yeah. HB: Just to finish off have you got a special memory from the war when you were with Bomber Command? [pause] HB: It sounds like you enjoyed your job during the war. RS: I was just looking across to see if it would wake my mind up over there. During the wartime Alec, Geoff and dad was, he didn’t do any fighting. He was fighting in the First World War but not the second. HB: Yeah. Did both Geoff and Alec survive? Did Geoff and Alec survive the war? RS: Yes. Alec and Geoff both survived the war. Geoff was in the [pause] it wasn’t the Navy. What was that? Oh gosh. HB: Oh, was he, was Geoff in the air sea rescue? Was Geoff in the air sea rescue? RS: Was —? HB: Air sea rescue. RS: Aircrew rescue. That was Alec. No. That was Geoff. HB: Right. RS: That’s right. HB: So, so he was, he was in the — RS: Yeah. HB: Air sea. Yeah. Right. RS: Yes, that was Geoff. Yeah. HB: Right. Right. RS: Yeah. HB: Well, I think — RS: Queer how you mix them up. HB: Yeah, well — RS: Yeah. HB: I do that all the time. Dick, can I, can I just finish the interview by saying thank you very much. RS: No, I – HB: You know. RS: It’s been quite interesting really. HB: Yeah. RS: To go, trying to go back to remember. HB: Yeah. RS: You know some of the things that I think in a way we were fortunate during the war because Alec, Geoff and myself and everybody went through alright. HB: Yeah. RS: So — HB: Yeah. RS: We were from that point of view yeah quite lucky. HB: That’s a lovely note to finish on. RS: Yeah. HB: Thanks ever so much, Dick. I’m going to end the interview now. Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource Interview with Richard Leslie Skepper Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Harry Bartlett Date A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource 2024-07-10 Language A language of the resource eng Type The nature or genre of the resource Sound Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource 01:13:50 Audio recording Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available IBCC Digital Archive Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource 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. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context ASkepperRL240710, PSkepperRL2401 Description An account of the resource Richard Skepper was born in Sevenoaks and volunteered for the RAF. He served as a flight mechanic on 7 Squadron at RAF Oakington. Richard Spepper was born in Kent. His ambition was to be a tank driver but his mother escorted him to the RAF Recruitment Centre to enlist. He trained as a flight mechanic and was posted to 75 Squadron at RAF Oakington when he worked on Stirlings and Lancasters. He enlisted in the RAFVR at his mother’s request despite personally wanting to be a tank driver. He was trained to become a flight mechanic and worked on both Stirlings and Lancasters. Dick talks of some of the work of the WAAF and of needing to have form 700 signed by the aircrew to prove they were satisfied with the current state of the aircraft. Dick flew in some of the air test flights which were undertaken before an aircraft was deemed flightworthy, but never on an operational flight. Dick’s squadron was involved in Operation Manna flights over Holland. At the end of the Second World War Dick flew on one of the ‘Cook's tour’ flights and saw some of the damage done to area in France and Belgium. He was demobbed in 1947. Temporal Coverage Temporal characteristics of the resource. 1942 Spatial Coverage Spatial characteristics of the resource. Great Britain England--Cambridgeshire Wales--Vale of Glamorgan Coverage The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant Royal Air Force Royal Air Force. Bomber Command Contributor An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource Julie Williams Maureen Clarke Claire Campbell Carolyn Emery 7 Squadron flight mechanic ground crew ground personnel Lancaster RAF Oakington RAF St Athan Stirling training Women’s Auxiliary Air Force