Hill Topics Vol. 1 No. 2 December 1943



Hill Topics Vol. 1 No. 2 December 1943


A newsletter produced by the No 31 Bombing and Gunnery School, Picton, Ontario. It contains stories, mini-biographies of station personnel, poems, reviews of Picton cafes, a pantomime, news and views, sport and entertainment and cartoons.



Temporal Coverage

Spatial Coverage




16 printed sheets


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.





Hill Topics

Vol. 1, No. 2 PICTON, ONTARIO, CANADA December, 1943


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Page Two Hill Topics December, 1943


On behalf of the magazine committee, I would like to thank you for the support that you gave to the first edition of Hill Topics. We did sell all of the copies that we had printed and could have sold more if we had had them, which is extremely encouraging. The fact that this was probably, due to curiosity as to what the new magazine would be like has not escaped us, so we are going all out in an endeavour to make each issue an improvement on the last. Men in the sections rallied round even better than we expected with their contributions and so as not to lose the force of any remarks, which we ourselves could not appreciate due to lack of knowledge, we reproduced them in the original without any editing or alteration. In this connection I would like to apologize to those sections which sent material in that was not published. We underestimated the amount that we should receive and consequently arranged to have the magazine consisting of only twelve pages, with the result that we had to leave out some good articles in our endeavour to cater to all tastes. This time we have increased the size by four pages, which is the most that we can manage owing to the expense. If your contribution does not appear in this month, it will probably do so next.
The main criticism that I have heard of the last issue was lack of pictures and cartoons. The reason for this was, and still is for that matter, that we are strictly limited by the cost of producing same. Those few which we included in the last edition cost $40.00 approximately and as we cannot seem to sell more than 800 copies ($80.00 income) you can see what we are up against. However we are atempting [sic] to remedy this defect in this number. For a start we intend to include each months representative photographs of one particular section. If you are surprised that this month’s selection is the S.P.’s I will explain that the group to be pictorialized is determined by putting all the names in a hat and drawing one out. So every section will get its turn. If we find that the demand for the magazine increases we will have more copies printed and the additional income will be used to improve future numbers of Hill Topics. Anyway you can rely on us to do the best that we can to produce the most interesting magazine possible, under the existing circumstances. Incidentally, do not forget to drop us a line if you have any suggestions or criticisms, we will be only too glad to learn what type of thing you would like to see in your magazine.
In conclusion I would like to thank you for your support this time and wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. (Don’t get too drunk.)

Rambling Rudolph - Editorial . . . Page 2
Personalities . . . 3
His Doctor Was Right (Short Story), Christmas 1 and 1,943 – Picton High Spots . . . 4
Cartoon – Kicking Against the Pricks . . . 5
Sorrow An-son – The C.B.C. Entertains – Picton Menus – Believe It or Not . . . 6
In Town Tonight – Hangar Types – A Welcome Retreat – A Devilish Trick . . . 7
Pantomine . . . 8 and 9
Round and About . . . 10, 11 and 12
Postings – Day in the Life of (series) – The Ladies . . . 13
Sports and Entertainment . . . 14 and 15
Falls of Niagara – Love’s Reflections – Crossword – Torch (ure) – Babs . . . 16

Editors: F/O. Hunt-Duke and LAC. Stevens.
Secretary: F/L. Freeman.
Treasurer: P/O. Beard.
Publicity: F/O. Lowe.
Assistant Editors: Sgt. Smale, LAC. Connolly, LAC. Godolphin, LAC. Senn, Mr. A. Morris.

Rambling Rudolph

WELL, hullo fellas, this is your rambling reporter Rudolph again, I just had to drop in to Picton to see you all after seeing that book that Churchill has written about No. 31, called “Blood, Sweat and Tears”. I got into town last night and dropped into the old beer parlor for a quick one, I’ll be up to see you poisonally as soon as the chief lets me out of the jail, I was talking a little thickly when he walked in and he insisted that I was talking in German, I showed him my identity card and after he had looked at it for 5 minutes he said that it was just as he suspected. I tried to point out that he was looking at it upside down but he wouldn’t listen. Yes sir, this old America is a grand country, it was discovered by Columbus in 1485 you know, he tried to lose it again but it had already been announced over the radio so now the Yanks are stuck with it. They tried giving it back to the Indians too but they didn’t want it either. That reminds me, I was down in Brooklyn a month or so ago, I went into a bar for a drink. The barman was leaning on the counter with his chin in his hand looking morose so whilst I was sucking my bourbon and milk I attempted to engage him in conversation, it went something like this:

Me: “War’s going well isn’t it?”
Him: “We’ll moider da bums.”
Me: “Pacific’s going a bit slow though.”
Him: “Dem doity Japs.”
Me: “What do you think of the World Series so far?”
Him: “We’ll moider da bums.”
Me: “Who do you think will win?”
Him: “Dem doity Japs.”
I was silent for a while then I tried again;
Me: “I hear they banned women wearing sweaters in factories.”
Him: “We’ll moider da bums.”
Me: “You seem to have something on your mind. What’s the trouble?”
Him: “Dem doity Japs.”
Me: “What about them?”
He turned a withering eye upon me and snapped:
“Ain’t you ‘eard bud da blank, blanks have bombed Poil ‘arbour wivout provikashun.”
All of which only goes to show that the Yanks are really war-minded and determined. Well it’s a long worm which has no turning.
That reminds me of a joke? Don’t kick the lad when he’s down he’s trying hard, where was I? Oh yes, it seems that Hitler had a batman whose duty it was to waken der fuerher [sic] each morning at 09.00 hrs. and say “Nine o’clock and all’s well my Feurher, [sic] it’s a lovely day.” To which Hitler would reply, “I know it fool, my intuition tells me so.” Well this went on for a long time until the 500th time. This morning the batman came in as usual and said, “Nine o’clock and all’s well my feurher, [sic] it’s a lovely day out.” And Hitler replied as usual, “I know it fool, my intuition tells me so.” Then the batman, whose self control had finally broken, answered, “Well your intuition is all to cock because it’s 11.30 and raining like hell.”
All right, all right, there’s insanity in the best of families but as I’ve always maintained “Have a go Joe. Your mother won’t know” . . . how did we get on to that . . . oh yes, I was just going to tell you about the time that I was down in Mexico writing a book on their customs. During the course of my researches I met up with a very charming little Mexican girl, quite accidentally of course, I’m a woman hater by trade, well as I was saying here was I walking slowly along the sidewalk looking at the local talent . . . I mean architetechture [sic] when I see this . . . what is the word I want . . . senorita drop something on the ground. So I, being a gentleman (quiet!) dashed up and picked them . . . er her . . . ah it up and said, “pardon me senorita, but did you lose something?” and she replied “Why yes senor but that was the long times ago.” I said, “But you don’t understand, I mean this.” So I handed her back her . . . um . . . gloves and she said, “Oh a thousand thanks senor, the winds are sometimes veery cheel in these part and I might have felt very cold without them.” Well one thing led to another and sometime later that evening we were sitting in the beautiful San Lorenzo Park admiring the scenery and talking about the weather, when she remarked, “Rudolph my dove, although my heard she is for you with love, I am very tired, I want to go home.” We got to her hacienda and I asked her if I could come in for a night-cap and she answered, “Well, yes my sweet but we must stay in the parlor because my father he say if he find a man in my room he will throw heem through the window.” Very strict these Latin parents. Well I got out of hospital in about a week, it was only on the second floor anyway. Nice girl though, entertained me quite well whilst I was down there. I was sorry to leave but I left her a little present to remember me by.
Speaking of the weaker (?) sex reminds me about the time that I was travelling through the Rockies, I had to stop at a little town up there to get some photographs for an article. Well the biggest rancher around the parts offered to put me up for a while. It turned out that he had an exceedingly beautiful daughter and one day when things were pretty quiet, I said to her, “What shall we do this afternoon?” and she said, “Well let’s go and hunt bear.” After I was run out of town it occurred to me that I must have misunderstood but still as I always say “we learn by our mistakes” and a thing like that can happen to anyone.
Well as Cleopatra said to Anthony, “Enough is too much, I have had, it’s time to push off”. So fellow sufferers I will bid you fond adieu until next time, that is if I’m not caught up with in the meantime. Down the hatch.

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December, 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Three




Wing Commander J.S. Kennedy, D.F.C. and Bar, an Ulster man by birth, has enjoyed the distinction of being “the Lowest Flier in the R.A.F.” Joining the R.A.F.V.R. in 1938 he was called for service two days before the outbreak of war, since which time he has had a thrill packed career in the service.

He has been described as a “fiery little Irishman” and evidence of his fighting nature and indomitable spirit was proved early in his flying career when, as a P/O, he dived and destroyed a gun emplacement which had been responsible for exploding in mid air the leader of his formation.

W/Cmdr. Kennedy has from time to time received considerable publicity in the British national newspapers, and has been twice received by H.M. the King at Buckingham Palace. One paragraph which appeared in an article printed after the magnificent air action over Dieppe is of particular interest and is given here:-“The formation was met with considerable A.A. fire and S/Ldr. Kennedy’s aircraft was repeatedly hit, one engine being put out of action. In spite of this S/Ldr. Kennedy resolutely supported by the skillful navigation of F/O. H.A. Asker led his formation over the town at low level and released smoke bombs with accuracy on the target”. For the part he played at Dieppe the W/Cmdr. received a bar to the D.F.C. and his navigator F/O. Asker already holder of the D.F.M., was awarded the D.F.C. F/O. Asker is now at Picton, as will be noted elsewhere in this issue.

W/Cmdr. Kennedy was singularly honored when selected by the Air Ministry to lead the first formation of American fliers over occupied Europe. He has been the subject of many articles published in American magazines and the following is an exerpt [sic] from the July issue of the Cosmopolitan – (The author, Lt. Randall Dorton, was a member of his 1st formation.) “Later, returning home alone in the belief that both his wing planes had been shot down, Kennedy, flaming with anger dumped his last remaining bomb on one of the ‘fishing’ boats and blasted it to hell, he then strafed the other with machine gun fire.” And evidence of his low flying in another paragraph:-“A couple of black puffs of smoke appeared ahead, as Kennedy let three of his bombs go. Then he closed his bomb doors and skidded around to the right, dragging his wing on the ground, we were flying so close to the ground that a machine gun, swinging on his ship hit a German soldier riding a bicycle. He shot straight up into the air his bicycle riding on riderless.”

In a raid over German occupied France W/Cmdr. Kennedy was piloting his Boston bomber away from his target at tree top height when he was caught in cross fire between two German batteries. He fired his forward gun at one of them and the gunners scattered. A shell burst tore off more than three feet of the leading edge of his port wing, leaving a large hole where the wing joined the fuselage, and there were many holes in the port oil tank. So low was he operating that he had to fly under a high tension cable. In spite of the damage and hazard he brought the Boston safely back home. When he landed back in Britain part of the cable was found tangled round the aircraft. Part of that cable was used to make a napkin ring for his blue-eyed, golden haired daughter Jane, who has accompanied him together with Mrs. Kennedy to Buckingham Palace. The W/Cmdr. carried out his attacks on enemy shipping at a height of only 50 feet, and included in his shipping “bag” is an 8000-ton merchant vessel.

The ”New Yorker” American counterpart of “Punch” described him as “-a Belfast man with flaming red hair and mustache, and an appropriate reputation for aggressiveness.” W/Cmdr. Kennedy has a great admiration for the American fliers, he has lived with them, flown with them, and fought with them, so he should know. The “New Yorker” in a most interesting article continues in the following strain:-“The British S/Ldr. in charge of the Boston outfit took me to the centre of the lounge and pointed upward to a big scrawl of names pencilled on the ceiling, at least ten feet beyond my reach. Among them were the names of the American officers who had come back from the July the 4th raid. There were also those of at least two who didn’t. The other fellows put those up,” the S/Ldr. said. After each man’s name was the name of his state. When a man comes back from his first “op” said the S/Ldr. we always have a beano, we make the new hand write his name on the ceiling. We drag over that long table, pile magazines on top, put a chair on top of the magazines, then make him get up and sign. The night after the American’s came back from their first “op” was the biggest and most violent beano I’ve ever seen in my life.

Credited with the sinking of six ships, more than 70 destruction packed daylight raids on enemy targets, and a participant in the famous Battle of Dieppe, it is small wonder that a man with such an intensive and practical knowledge of operational flying, it’s hazards and the important necessity of being superior to the enemy, should take such a keen interest in the training of future crews of the air. Since his inception at Picton many improvements have been introduced. He is tireless in his efforts to procure the best equipment possible. One innovation particularly appreciated by the students is the conference which every course attends, and at which, in the presence of their instructors, flight commanders, and the O/C.’s of various sections they are invited to air their views with regard to the training program, and to offer any suggestions which would be adopted and put into practice if considered to be progressive and advantageous to future students.




Our N.C.O. personality for this month is genial Flight-Sergeant Milford. Attached to Maintenance Wing Orderly room, he is, as we all know, to our joy, and alas, our sorrow, a popular pillar of justice. His Air Force career started in 1930, when with joyful heart, he passed through the forbidding portals at Uxbridge. After four years in England, he set sail in 1934 for Singapore. Spending two years in this delightful spot, he left in 1936 with many happy memories bound for Egypt. Soon we find him bronzed and happy, with his feet under the table in Abu-Suier. However, roll on the boat, and in 1938 it was rain, rain and all that home service means. Three happy years, embarkation leave, and Canada was his next abode. Out west, then finally Picton on the Lake. So before leaving this terror of gymnasium and parade ground, we thank him one and all, for his efforts to make this station a happier place to work, play and work.




Aye’ lad He’ He’. Yes, it’s Tubby Fields we have to write about this month, that ball of fun, the station’s No. 1 Comedian, who, with the help of W.O. Reick, is responsible for the Station Concert Party. His experience of stage craft is a great help to us all.

He is a man of wide experience and diverse interests. At one time he concentrated on the development of his physique (you might say he has succeeded) and practised under Saldo Max Aldine, the old King of Muscular [missing letter]evelopment, and under Yulei Tani, the jui jitsu champion.

He won the Ingleton Gold Medal for having the biggest chest expansion, 4 3/4 inches, and was a Junior Champion swimmer. He aspired at one time to sing in opera and had a very fine voice as a young man. It is pretty obvious that his true bent was towards comedy work.

He started his career on the stage with concert party work during the last war while in the R.F.C., and has been at it ever since, playing on the stage and on the air with his partner, with whom as Fields and Mitchell, he has been for eighteen years, doing everything from pantomime to busking on the sands at seaside resorts. He has played with many famous people, and was principal tenor for several years at Winter Gardens at Blackpool.

From what we gather he hasn’t always been as fat as he is now, for he has played Rugby for Halifax, little though you may think it to look at him now.

He has also won the Yorkshire Swimming championship. Tubby is a very fine Billiards and Snooker player and has played exhibition matches with Lindrum, Davis and Newman.

So you can see what an asset Tubby is to the station, a man we can rely on to keep us happy, for his tomfoolery is just what the Doctor ordered.


CPL. HOLE - “His Doctor was Right”.
ANON - “Kicking Against the Pricks”.

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Page Four HILL TOPICS December, 1943

His Doctor Was Right

WALLISE shuffled the sheets of his newspaper, irritably, and scowled at the pages. He did not like talking to strangers – their conversation usually bored him to death – but he could see, that unless he could find some way of avoiding it, it would not be long before the stranger seated opposite him in the first-class smoker would be making an insensate remark or two about the weather or asking him for a match or something. He forced his attention rigidly to the newspaper which he held uncompromisingly before his face.
In the opposite seat of the railway carriage, of which he was the only other occupant, his fellow-passenger was making an apparently fruitless search of his pockets. An unlighted, short, stubby pipe was clenched between his teeth. The bowl was empty so it was quite evident that he was looking for his tobacco pouch. Eventually, he gave up the search and blew noisily down the stem, gazing aggrievedly across at the unrelenting newspaper as he did so. Wallise, wondering why his fellow-passenger was breathing so hard, peered cautiously over the top of it and was caught off-guard.
“No tobacco,” ventured the other, taking his pipe from his mouth and waving it about in front of his face, as evidence of the fact.
Wallise put down his newspaper, with a barely audible sigh, and reached into his pocket.
The other’s face brightened.
“Here, have some of mine,” said Wallise.
“No, really, I didn’t mean-”, but at the same time the stranger took the proffered pouch.
“Miserable day,” he went on, nodding his head towards the windows at the grey, November countryside. Wallise grunted an indistinct affirmative.
“Travel down by this train often?” asked the other, trying again.
“No. I’ve never been down in this part of the country before.”
“Hmm. We had a murder on this train, once. I bet that surprises you.”
Wallise reflected that it would surprise him if history did not repeat itself, but, aloud, he said, “Is that so? When did that happen?”
The other did not reply immediately, but, striking a match, applied it to the two pipes in turn. Then, drawing heavily upon his pipe, answered, “It’s rather interesting. I’ll tell you about it if you wish.”
Wallise shrugged his shoulders, imperceptibly. “By all means, do.”
The man in the opposite seat settled himself back, more comfortably, in his corner.
“All this happened about ten years ago. About nineteen-twenty-four, I think it was. The 1.5 from Paddington, it’s been running for more years than I care to remember, carried, among it’s other passengers, two men who were known to each other – but that doesn’t mean they liked each other. Far from it. For that reason, only one got off the train when it finished its run at Oxford. It was this way.
“Some years before a man named Pearson had come back from the war to find that the girl who had promised to wait for hm until the war ended, had played rather a dirty trick on him. She’d got tired of waiting. Instead, she had married a chap called Valentine.
“Now, probably, in the ordinary course of events, Pearson would have got over it, but the trouble was, although one could not exactly call him crazy, the war had left its mark upon him. He went away and brooded over it.
“He never set eyes on this fellow Valentine again, until this day, in nineteen-twenty-four, that I’m talking about.” The stranger broke off here and looked across at Wallise. “I hope I’m not boring you with all this, old chap.”
Wallise shook his head. He seemed by now, to be genuinely interested. “No. Please go on.”
“Good. Well, to continue. Pearson was on the platform at Paddington, getting aboard the Oxford train, when he happened to spot Valentine also getting aboard – further down the platform. An impulse struck him.
“He had only half an idea of what he intended to do, but that was sufficient. He manoeuvred himself to a seat adjacent to the corridor, from which he had a view of the entrance to the compartment which he had seen Valentine enter, and sat, waiting, watching.
“His opportunity did not arise until after the train left Reading. He saw Valentine leave his compartment and walk down the corridor towards the toilet at the end of the coach.
“He waited a few seconds, and then followed. Luck was with him, there was not a soul hanging about the corridors. Valentine barely had time to slip the bolt behind him, when Pearson knocked sharply upon the door. Puzzled, Valentine re-opened it and was roughly pushed back inside again. Had he been about to make any protest, it died a stillborn death in his throat. Pearsons fingers were about his throat, squeezing to a stand still the life that pulsated beneath them.
“A few minutes, and it was all over. His rage spent, Pearson felt himself chilled by the beads of sweat which stood out from his body. Shakily, he turned to the door, and listened. All was quiet. He let himself out. The corridors were still deserted as he started to walk away. Then, recalling some little detail, he turned back again. Taking from his pocket one of those pencils with a small eraser fitted in the top, he held the door firmly closed with one hand, while he pressed the rubber against the enamel plate attached to the bolt, with the other. Gently, he eased the plate around, until the word “ENGAGED” was visible. It was quite easily done. The railway companies keep those locks well oiled.
“Pearson did not return to his own compartment, but went on down the train, until he found one which was empty, and there he sat, shivering, until the train pulled into Oxford. Once there, he soon made himself scarce. I don’t suppose anyone who saw him leave the station looked at him twice. His name was never coupled with the murder, anyway.
“At the inquest, which inevitably followed, a few days afterward, the coroner passed a verdict of “wilful murder by person or persons, unknown.”
The stranger finished speaking and looked up to find the other’s eyes fixed curiously upon him, while he sucked at his empty pipe, which, long ago, had burnt itself out.
“That’s a very interesting story, but there’s one thing that puzzles me. What is your name? Is it-?”
“Pearson? No, that poor devil committed suicide a few months afterwards.”
“But you said, only a few moments ago, that Pearson was never traced and that no one saw him commit the murder. I don’t-”
The stranger interrupted Wallise again. “Perhaps you will understand better if I tell you who I am. I am not pulling your leg, as you appear to think; you see, my name is – was – Valentine.”
But for the low rumbling of the wheels of the train, there was silence in the carriage when he finished speaking. For a few moments, the stranger sat, looking at Wallise thoughtfully, then, slowly, quietly, he commenced tapping his teeth with his pipe. He sat thus, a few seconds, then, rising from his seat, he commenced, deliberately, to gather up his belongings. There was no sound in the compartment save the rattle of the train as it rushed through the damp, grey countryside to Oxford.
As he finished, the man turned his head over his shoulder, to speak to Wallise once more. “Well, we’ve got to be going, now. Your doctor was right, after all, wasn’t he? He said your heart wouldn’t stand a sudden shock. Sorry I frightened you to death, old chap. I’m ready when you are.”

Songs Heard in the Blackout

Christmas 1 – There were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night.
Christmas 1943 – Berlin was bombed again last night for the fifth night in a row by the Empire’s heavy bombers.
Christmas 1 - . . . The angel said unto them . . . behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
Christmas 1943 – Scene like Dante’s Inferno, as skies rained destruction. R.A.F. aims to wipe Reich capital systematically off map.
Christmas 1 - . . . Unto you is born this day . . . a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
Christmas 1943 – Gestapo kill off the hopelessly wounded and those who have been driven insane by shock, including children.
Christmas 1 - . . . Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying – Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, goodwill toward men.
Christmas 1943 – Nazis threaten terrible vengeance for every man, woman and child killed and every
cultural monument destroyed.

Have you visited the following:
1 The SHQ Red Light District . . . where the S.A.D.O. presides. See him counting his takings daily. Don’t dilly-dally on the way.
2 The Morgue (N.E. corner of building No. 4). Cadavres not accepted before 21.00 hours. Must show no signs of life. Definitely not admitted if seen chewing apples.
3 The Creche . . . the kiddies spend their happiest hours with THOMAS and SULLIVAN, the amusement kings. Book your carriers in advance. Pyrotechnic displays to order. Hot dogs are out for the duration.
4 The Feline Refuge . . . (first on right inside main gate). No destitute cat ever refused admission. P.S. We also have some spare accommodation for wayward erks.
5 The Arena (station drill hall). Christians scientifically dismembered by Smale and Scott (singing Cockles and Muscles, alive, alive-o). Padre in attendance if required.
6 Hut number (supressed by censor) home for fallen women. (Or for any other kind that show up.)
7 Treasure Island . . . Where STEVENSON (stroking his long beard) may be seen in the flesh among that legendary wealth that his fertile brain created.
8 The Herb Garden (W. corner of hut 9R) where the SAGE who knows his ONIONS cuts CAPERS when the THYME comes round for the MINT to send his CELERY.

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December, 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Five


On the arrival of a certain medical officer at this unit recently on posting, an examination of his document envelope revealed a neatly typewritten manuscript, obviously in code, and signed by one “L.A.W. Carroll” as being a certified true copy.

Headquarters staff were vastly intrigued by the discovery of this manuscript, and arousing themselves from their usual placid lethargy, set to work with the greatest energy to decypher it. FLYING OFFICER FLITTE-GUNNE took a leading part in this brave endeavour, ably assisted by FLIGHT SERGEANT MOTH-BALLS and LEADING AIRCRAFTSMAN D.R.O. FRAGRANT.

As a result of their joint endeavours the greater part of the manuscript was eventually decoded. Verse five however proved recalcitrant. It is thought that this verse contains, enshrined in mystic jargon, the result of a series of successful experiments carried out by the M.O. in question who, being filled with the milk of human kindness, and observing with sorrow the dire and dismal anguishes occasioned by the numerous innoculations that fall to the lot of the unhappy erk, had set out to render these innoculations superfluous by eradicating for ever the dread diseases of scarlet fever, tetanus, typhoid and diptheria.

This view is supported by the curious fact that none of the rest of the manuscript contains matter of a secret nature. There would therefore have been no useful purpose served by encoding its contents had not the paragraph in question contained matter of the very highest degree of secrecy and of the greatest value to the enemy.

Unfortunately the M.O. himself is unable to assist in decoding the cryptic lines, for, as his medical documents show, shortly after the conclusion of his experiments and before the publication of his thesis, he was admitted to the station hospital, Hilltop Panorama, suffering from mild concussion and acute amnesia, having fallen down the back stairs of a block of service flats while leaving hurriedly in the small hours of a summer’s morning. All the efforts of the unit’s brilliant intelligence officer, Wing Commander C.N.R. Birt, to extract the truth by a series of cunning questions, have so far proved abortive.

It has been argued that the repetition of verse one at the end of the manuscript would indicate that his efforts to find a means of eradicating the dread diseases had failed. This however cannot be accepted. It is considered that this was his delicate way of indicating the well-known reluctance of the medical profession to accept new ideas or methods until they have been exhaustively tried and proved beyond all possible doubt.

The document is therefore reproduced below in the hope that some airman skilled in de-caballistics may succeed in solving the puzzle. It is emphasised that the solution should be treated as MOST SECRET and forwarded to S.H.Q. in sextuplicate (or in a sealed envelope).

“Twas brillig and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that snatch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxsome foe he sought,-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood
And burbled as it came!”

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with his head
He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my BEAMISH boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in this joy.

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogroves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


Verse One – Obviously a scene in station hospital, at the M.O.’s last unit.
Brillig – 10.00 hours.
Slithey – Unfortunate.
Toves – Erks.
Gyre – Take off their jackets.
Gimble – Shake like a leaf.
Wabe – Treatment room, station hospital.
Mimsy – Scrubbed-up.
Borogroves – Nursing sisters.
Mome – Hypodermic.
Raths – Syringes.
Outgrabe – Were working overtime.

Verse two – Advise to the newly arrived M.O. from the old and experienced Senior Medical Officer.
Jabberwock – The germs of scarlet fever, diptheria, typhoid and tetanus.
More technically “bacteria horrenda variosa”.
Jaws – Rigors.
Bite – Grip
Claws – Constrictions of the throat.
Snatch – Suffocate.
Jubjub bird – (Unsolved).
Frumious – Insidious.
Bandersnatch – Spirochete.

Verse three – The M.O. embarks on research aimed at removing the threat and even the very existence of these dreaded diseases. Most of this verse is in plain language. Lines three and four clearly indicate that, wearied of his arduous and at first unfruitful research, he returned for a period to the gentle recreational pastime of ABDOMINAL SURGERY, a common resort of the overworked medico.
Vorpal – Super-polarising.
Sword – Microscope.
Manxsome – Bacterial, (as opposed to amoebic).

Verse four – An epidemic breaks His chance for real research has come at last. No more playing around with mere abdominal surgery for him.
Uffish – Peculiar to the medical fraternity.
Eyes – Temperature.
Flame – 108 degrees Fahrenheit.
Whiffling – Infecting all the erks.
Tulgey – Steam-heated.
Wood – Hangars.
Burbled – Laid them low with fever.

Verse five – See the introductory remarks.

Verse six – The Senior M.O. welcomes and congratulates the Junior.
Slain – Eradicated.
Beamish boy – The junior M.O.
Frabjous day – Day off, with seven days’ passionate leave attached.
Callooh – B – good show.
Callay – Another way of saying the same thing.
Chortled – Shot a line.
Joy – A feeling often experienced by the R.A.F. in the U.K.

Verse seven – See verse one and also the introductory remarks.

A chap with very bad eyesight was examined by the draft M.O. – and placed in 1A. “But my eyes are terrible,” he pointed out, “I can hardly see anything.” “Look,” said the doctor, “we don’t examine eyes any more, we just count them.

A beautiful young lady lay on a bed in the receiving ward of a Washington hospital, her only covering a large white sheet. Two upstanding young gentlemen in white passed by and were struck by the young lady’s lovely features. One of the young men drew back the sheet and carefully examined the patient from head to foot. “Do you think you will have to operate?” the girl asked anxiously after a few moments. “Oh, you will have to ask the doctors,” said one of the young men, cheerily, “we’re only ensigns.”

[page break]

Page Six HILL TOPICS December, 1943

A Pistol-Packing Drama – In Complete Form
Once upon a Bulova watch time there was an old woman who lived in a discarded old “Anson” fuselage. Now this old woman was a spinster and had twelve children. Eleven were boys, excepting five – (these were girls). The twelfth is too young yet to be distinguished. This small family lived in the vicinity of Hellville, (a rural village just outside Little-Picton-in-the-Mire), and was supported entirely by a devastating young air bomber named Flash Lampus, who used to fly overhead and drop 11 1/2 pounders in the old lady’s back yard. The latter’s name was Sarah Bagshot, (the old lady, not the back yard). Her father was the famous Sir Harry Bagshot, heir to the Inlet Valve.

One day when the air bomber was toasted (I mean posted), he went round to Sarah to see how the flying was going. (Sarah was a W.D. in the Canned Air Force). After blowing up the front doorway, by exploding an 11 1/2 pounder, which he usually carried around with him whenever he went on ops), the stumbled boldly, yet a trifle blasted, (as u/t air bombers can be), into a back room where Sarah was cooking her goose for his supper.

“A-ha!” he spluttered, picking up his top set from the ash can, “so you really waited for me I see!” After complimenting him on his powers of observation and shrewdness, Sarah threw over a settee, (airman for the use of). “Harry,” she slopped, her bottom tooth tripping up her enormous white tongue, “you didn’t think I would run out on yer – did yer?” Now Sarah was a well educated old woman, and ‘Harry’ was another boy friend. “You fair shook me rigid,” Flash re-spluttered, “Sarah, my nocturnal narcotic, I am posted, as all air males usually are.” “Corny,” she yelled softly into his starboard ear, “they can’t do this to us! I will see your Wing Commander tomorrow at eleven, when he starts work, and complain on passionate grounds.”

“It’s no use,” he whimpered hopefully, (he had made too many runs already with this one woman). “I have to go to the air observers’ school tomorrow to learn all about ground defence”. (His papers read “G.D.”, but we allow for these discrepancies with air crew). “But what about my family?” Sarah pleaded, her right hand around his throat, tenderly depressing same in a state of dire ecstasy. “Confound your family!” he replied politely, (he’d only been in the service six months). “I have carried the banner too long already.” “So!” she hissed, like a Lizzie’s tyre on a bad landing, “I thought as much!” You English bombardiers are atrociously abominable, and utterly erratic.” Now this was a good thing on her part, as that mouthful really shook Flash.

“O.K.”, he retorted, knowing darn well he was washed up, and using a megaphone to make himself heard, “I know my misses when I miss ‘em;” (he was constantly air-minded). “Tonight I will run out on you with my final run.” So saying, he left the house in a shambles, and rushed down the street. After pausing for a few hours at the drug store, he found his wind and ran back to his beloved billet at the R.I.F.R.A.F. station at Little-Picton-in-the-Mire. Pay A/C’s ceased playing out to the old woman, who soon starved to death anyway, and the airman was posted.

Which all goes to show, that you can’t play ball with a Waaf batman. N.B. – Any similarity between this immortal epic and the R.A.F. is purely bad show on the part of the writer.

“This is the Canned Broadcasting Corporation.”
“XYZ – Hellville.”
“Tonight we bring to you, a programme of delightful entertainment . . . “
“Madam! Do you suffer from toothache, headache, eyeache, faceache, earache, dropped feet, chronic asthma, or even rigor mortis? You DO? Well, isn’t that just too bad?”
“Ladies! Prevent B.O., buy ‘NEW Rinsit’ TODAY! NOT tomorrow or even tonight – but RIGHT AWAY!”
(Fanfare of trumpets without – enter asthmatic announcer).
“You will be sorry if you don’t use NEW Rinsit’ in the near future. One day, when your limbs start falling off, and your flesh starts flaking, - you will wish that you had taken to using ‘NEW Rinsit’ earlier!”
“LISTEN TO THIS DRAMATIC TRUE-LIFE EPISODE . . .” (Strains of William Tell”).
“Sob, sob, splutter, sniff . . .”
“What’s the matter, Jennifer?”
“I had an ab-so-lute-ly AWFUL time at the party tonight, mother dear.”
“Oh? How was that, Jennifer?”
“The R.A.F. boys wouldn’t dance with me at all tonight, mother dear.”
“But Jennifer, my darling, you aren’t going to worry over a little thing like that, are you?”
“No, mother dear, but one corporal S.P. came up to me, and admitted quite frankly that I ab-so-lute-ly reeked of B.O.”
“Ah, Jennifer. You should use some of that marvellous ‘NEW Rinsit!”
“May I try some, mother dear?”
“Why, mother! I can feel it doing me a world of good already!” (etc., blah).
“Sold at all drug stores and gas stations – buy your ‘NEW Rinsit’ NOW!”
“Thank you for listening, Ladies and Gentlemen. The broadcast you just heard was transcribed. And now for an advertisement . . .” (etc., etc., blah-blah).


Egg and Bacon
Potatoes, mash or French Fry
Tea and Coffee
Entertaining M.T. Drivers
Points –
One blonde
Tea cups read for small extra charge.
Palms read free of charge for regular customers.
Plates cracked. Duff gen. known to originate here in large quantities. Water has earthen taste – may be due to condition of glasses. S.P.’s noted to appear frequently.

Light Lunches
Milk Shakes
Clean. Good radio.
Senior N.C.O.’s, aircrew and girlfriends most frequent customers.
Water fair. Good place to collect local gen.
Little encouragement given to those on the binge
Waitresses mostly too young
Hastening methods taken against those prone to linger, when busy.

Choice of-
Fish, Steaks, Chops, etc.
Veg. Potatoes
Pie, etc.
Milk, tea, coffee.
Small helpings.
Excellent service. Very clean.
Salt and pepper at all tables.
Cups with saucers (and handles)
Knives cut
Dehydrated potatoes never used.
Too quiet. Very ‘so so’ atmosphere.
Wing Commanders and ranks above receive special attention. Prices beyond reach of average erk’s pocket book.

Clear Rice Soup
Chop Suey
T-Bone Steak
Cold Potatoes
Pie a la Mode
Speciality: Swedes
Waitresses ‘dateable’
Waiters, quiet spoken – English fair.
Frequented by officers and lady friends.
Serviettes at all tables (useful Kleenex sub.)
Taxies at door for camp.
Over chlorinated water.
Phone constantly in use, takes away appetite.
Demand instant payment.
Also frequented by ‘Jackson Boy’

Fried Fish
French Fry
Tomato Ketchup (thinned)
Oatmeal Cookies
Fried Fish
Service good. Three tables usually free.
No shortage of salt and pepper.
Proprietor friendly.
Little breathing space.
Strong smell of cooking fat and thick cloud of tobacco smoke always present.
Frequented mostly by S.P.’s and lower ranking erks.

French Fry
Eggs and Bacon, (except Tuesdays, just eggs).
Cocoa, coffee, Coca-cola.
No shortage of eggs
Two redheads
Handles on most cups. Handy to camp.
Pepper and salt for one table only.
Three cats, (plus five more at any time now).
Avoid back corner table on left, rain comes in.

(With Apologies to Ripley)
This actually happened during a recent trip to New York – to relations! We had left Watertown on the way back, and were hitching from there. Everyone says it’s more interesting. Money doesn’t seem to enter into it. As I was saying, we stopped outside Watertown, and things didn’t look too promising. There were mostly vans on the road and these were in a great hurry. Two kids came up and regarded us curiously, you know, in that impersonal sort of way in which children look at animals in the zoo.
“Waitin’ for a ride?” enquired one. “Yes,” said I civilly enough. Is there much doing on this road?” “Nope”, answers he laconically. “Say what ARE you? Marines? Coastguards? Navy? Army? I can’t GET you”. “Oh, us?” I piped up (it was the night after the second heavy raid on Berlin, you know two inch headlines in the “New York Sun”).
“Why, we’re Royal Air Force!” As the expressions on the two boys’ faces didn’t change, I added hastily, “R.A.F. you know, Raf!” Number one looked at number two, shook his head and said in tones of utter finality, “Never heard of ‘em”.
I collapsed, while my companion murmured, “Wish I hadn’t either!”

[page break]

December 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Seven

By “Wraplock”
Well blokes, this little matter is to put on record some of the habits and peculiarities of the individuals who go to make our little circles. They never vary much in any flight, and possibly you will recognize yourself in one or more of the groups. First let us take that comparatively rare phenomenon:
Generally speaking, they are confined to junior N.C.O’s, and Senior LAC.’s, who spend their time dashing into jobs amidst a terrific flurry of tools, comparable in intensity with the flak over Berlin. Their greatest pride is to announce they have just finished an engine change, or something, in less time than ever before, but strangely enough, instead of admiring glances, they are favoured with dark murmers, which indicate that Chiefy will expect similar results from less inspired quarters.
If you should ever happen to come upon one of these creatures in full production, be warned and keep well clear, or you will find yourself being cursed in a very nasty manner for being in the way, or distracting the attention of the unfortunate underlings who make up the zealous one’s gang. This type has another habit – that of diving into a huddle and pulling to pieces the methods of other toilers, who take no notice of them anyway, but just think, - if we had a hangar full of “Flat Outs”. They would be so busy trying to out-produce each other, the rest of us would be able to pack up and catch the next boat back to mother and the local.
(Original ideas committee please note.)
However, their ranks are so thin at present, that we are in need of a few volunteers before this suggestion can be forwarded to the illustrious body mentioned above, and by the time they had adopted it, if ever, we should all be long past caring anyway, so maybe we had best let things rest as they are.
Next we come to the:
That is to say, the ones who have their wives within week-end reach. These poor lads are really to be pitied by us all, for although it does the heart good to see them depart on 48, all clean and spritely, happy as terriers seeing nice juicy bones before them. Oh my, oh my, just get a dekko at them on Monday morning! Can these be the fine, upright young airmen who left us not three days since? These grouchy, anaemic wretches, who stagger so pitifully to work as if Tarzans or Harry Pye had given them a going over.
Yes, they are one and the same, and for the next fortnight or so, we shall have to watch them, toiling so manfully, with their thoughts far away in Montreal or Toronto. They never leave camp between week-ends, but I am sure they must spend a fortune on postage stamps. We don’t count paper, etc., of course, because they wouldn’t dream of letting all that crested paper from the “Y” go to waste.
It is awful to see them in the crew room at break time, hanging on to every word the Scrubber Boys have to say. Haven’t you noticed them before? Well you know them alright, and next time you meet one on a Monday, just step brightly up and ask “How goes it Jasper?” and then wait for that soulful expressive “Cheesed off mate”.
So all you single blokes take heed, and for Pete’s sake avoid becoming one of this type, or you too will have something extra to moan about, and most of you have more than enough already.
Cheerio until next month, fellers, when we will have a look at The Crew Room Crowd and the Senior N.C.O. type.

[Photograph] “IN TOWN TONIGHT!”
(Number One)
THIS month we interview a distinguished dock labourer from the east end of London. Here he is – Mr. Harry Hodges of Stepney, now being interviewed by Alf Norris, our roaming reporter.
“Good evening, Mr. Hodges! And what exactly do you do for a living?”
“I work at them London docks, and I am the bloke what ‘as ter do the ‘andlin’ of them crates of stuff what comes orf of them boats what’s
“I works at them London docks, and I ‘ave ter-“
“Yes, yes, quite. And have you a family to support Harry?”
“YUS! -I ‘ave a missus and seven kids. I also keeps chickens in a chicken ‘ouse what I made aht of them crates what they lands at them London docks, and –“
“Yes, yes, quite! And where do you live? -or rather, from what part of Stepney do you come from?”
“I live in an ‘ouse what used ter belong to a bloke what used to ‘elp us aht dahn at them London docks on them crates, and –“
“Yes, really, but which street?”
“Look ‘ere mate, I was tellin’ yer, ain’t I?”
“Yes, -go on please.”
“O.K. -nah don’t butt in mate.”
“Go ahead old chap.”
“Okey-doke, then. I lives in an ‘ouse what ain’t very far from that pub what is dahn Noo road, Step-a-ney! My missus works at them London docks too.”
“Is she on them crates too?”
“NAH! She ain’t on them crates mate. My missus, she ‘andles the blokes’ pay durin’ the day, and the kids durin’ the night, and-”
“Yes, of course. And what do you think of the war, Harry?”
“I am in the ‘ome guard, when I ain’t workin’, and-”
“Well I can’t do me job on them crates at them London docks, AND do me ruddy ‘Ome guard at the same time, can I mate?”
“No of course not.”
“Well then.”
“Er, Harry-”
“Yus, cock?”
“Would you be so kind as to tell the listeners something about the Home Guard?”
“YUS! I am a bloke what’s known as a sergeant. ‘E’ as got six stripes yer know and-”
“SIX stripes, Harry?”
“YUS, -three on each arm, see?”
“Oh, of course.”
“Well, let me go on wiv it then.”
“I’m afraid our time is up now Harry, so say ‘Goodnight’ please, to our millions of listeners, will you?”
“YUS! Of course mates, it would ‘ave bin better to ‘ave ‘ad more time, but I suppose old Alf ‘ere, ain’t got it, so-”
“Thanks very much, Harry, er- this way out.”
“O.K. chum – Ta-ta, old cock. Goodnight Bert, Sid and Charlie. I ‘ope yer’ve got me supper on at ‘ome, Liz.”
“Goodnight, Mr. Hodges.”
“So long, old cock. Where do I get paid?”
“Er – the Cashier’s office is across the hall.”
“THAT, was Mr. Harry Hodges. Phew!”

We welcome as an addition to the station facilities, the new reading room recently installed in the Library Building. Here at long last, for the first time in Picton’s history, is a place for a man to find quiet and seclusion for acquiring information on the turbulent events of today.
From the smoke-saturated and jive burdened air of the canteen one can now escape to fresh fields and pastures new, to silence and meditation.
Here, one may add to ones knowledge and get the necessary quiet wherein to collect ones thoughts. Here too, is it possible to get down in peace to that very essential but somewhat trying task of writing home. From the peaceful atmosphere of the reading room we hope our epistolary efforts will grow in regularity and coherence. We hope, too, that now indeed we shall be able to keep ourselves conversant with all the gen that is worth acquiring.
We understand that the curtains and table cloths with their welcome relief to the prevailing verdant hues were the work of the ladies of the Hostess House, in which case we offer them our sincere thanks, and regard it as a further addition to our indebtedness to them.
Note from the Education Officer: Suggestions for increasing the facilities of the reading room and other ideas for its improvement will be welcomed.

Old Tam’s was known from Ben to Ben,
The meanest man in all the glen,
His wife as fly as Murphy’s goat,
Wi’ a heart as cold as Winter’s coat.

Their house was nestled by the burn,
A cosy spot in snow or sun;
Wi’ walls as white as shorned sheep,
And roof aw thatched wi’ bracken sweet.

The garden tidy, just a treat,
A thorny hedge, the trap’s defeat;
Two apple trees stan’ roun’ the back,
Sheltering turnips in a stack.

On Christmas Eve the house was still,
Except for cries from doon the hill;
Where in the pub a merry throng,
Besiege dull care wi’ glass and song.

McGregor’s wife sat in her chair,
The fire was roaring fierce and rare;
Click, click! her needles roun’ the room,
Where dancing shadows chased her broom.

All Tam himsel’ was snoring loud,
Christmas night was but a shroud;
On he dreamt o’ shining lucre,
When all the world was in a stupor.

The grandfather clock struck twelve o’clock,
When strange enough there came a knock;
Old Tam shouted, “Weel wha’s there?”
But no’ a sound disturbed the pair.

“Say your prayers Maggie lass,
Old Nick’s out there, it’s come to pass”;
When sure enough the latch went click,
And in the doorway stood old Nick.

His horns were shining in the moon,
His long black hair was hanging doon;
Wi’ eyes as red as burning coal,
Which seemed to creep and steal your soul.

He spoke, his voice was hoarse and deep,
McGregors at last your fate you meet;
“For long you’ve tried your souls to sell,
And now it’s time to go to Hell”.

Wi’ that he turned and slammed the door,
Left them shaking more and more;
And all that night they stood in dread,
In case the morn would find them dead.

By morn they hadn’t slept a wink,
The quickly they began to think;
“We haven’t long, if we don’t tarry,
The devil’s threat with good we’ll parry.”

So to the grocer’s at fearful pace,
Bought all the sweeties in the place;
The roun’ the village from door to door,
They gave out toys and sweets galore.

Weel, since that dawn you would hardly know,
The McGregors when they come and go;
Old Tam’s known since that great day,
As a man who’d gie his shirt away.
But in the pub they’ll laugh till Dotage,
At the trick they played at Tam’s wee cottage.

[page break]

Page Eight HILL TOPICS December, 1943

A Pantomine in Two Acts

Scene depicts a deserted plotting office about two hours before night flying has been officially cancelled. Enter a fairy queen.


Fairy Queen:
“Now hullo all you A.C.2’s,
You L.A.C.’s, W.O’s, flight Lieus,
If you wonder why the hell I’m here,
Just think, wouldn’t it be rather queer?
To have a Christmas pantomine
Without a Fairy Queen divine?
Although I am not in this play
I really had to have my say,
So here I am with my small kit,
To introduce this thing a bit.
The scene is laid on any station,
Any place or situation;
Where such characters as these
Usually relax and take their ease.
There, that’s the introducing stuff,
I really think I’ve said enough.
So now I’ll leave you to the worst,
And just pop off to quench my thirst.
I hope you all enjoy the show;
(excuse me if my contours show,
I know it’s chilly to wear gauze,
But that’s the way I get applause).”

Scene 1
Any office in the control tower where any type can wander in and a Waaf can be seated at a desk. As the curtain goes up LAW. Goldilocks is in the foreground messing about. The chorus, comprised of both sexes and all ranks up to F/O., is strewn about in the background, doing everything in general and nothing in particular (loafing mostly as usual).
“I am the heroine of this story,
I’m sorry that it won’t be gory

But I am quite a demure miss,
Who never goes out on the beer.
All that you need know of me
Is that I’m built like G. Rose Lee
And to make the story go,
I’m bothered with a brace of beaux.”
“One is Sergeant Pilot Dick,
A rather useless sort of chap,
But whom I love for all of that.
The other is a Flight Lieut. Bligh,
The wolfish type, with roving eye;
Who pesters me both day and night.
(But I never yield without a fight)
They say virtue is its own reward,
But all I get is frightfully bored.
Heroines though must be true blue
So what! I ask, is a girl to do?”


“Yes! Goldi is the heroine,
It is a shame she must be clean.
If not, we know you’d like it more
But the censor’d toss this out the door.”

Chorus dances around waving plotting charts.

Enter Sgt. Pilot Dick, in battle dress with a pink sweater and a green scarf.


“Relax now folks, the hero’s here,
I’m bound to win, so have no fear,
Like Goldi I am good to all
And never go to Montreal (much).”

Turns to Goldilocks:
“Oh! Darling it really is a shame,
But I am night flying again.
It’s all the work of that bloke Bligh,
Who’s trying to muscle in on I. (poet’s licence).
And so to-night I am sad to say,
We can’t go to the Y.M.C.A.
Tho’ my day will come, do not fear that
And I’ll give him an awful swat.
I cannot now ‘cause as you know,
I’m just a blinking N.C.O.
So if Bligh comes round to pester you,
Do as I, my love, would do.
A well used knee will ease his tension
And save you from, what I may not mention.”

“Yes! Do as Sgt. Dick would do,
If Bligh tries his games on you.
Knee work will surely do the trick,
And damp his ardour awfully quick.”

Exit Dick, enter Fl/Lt/ Bligh.

“I am the villain of this piece,
Who’s learn’t that she’s an M.P.’s niece
And must inherit, as you’ll agree,
Simply loads of L.S.D.
So if I can win her for my own
I’ll buy a little pub back home:
And with blonde barmaids, Watneys’ beer,
Shall face my old age without fear.
But apart from that I’ve other ideas,
Which Sgt. Dick, curse him, always queers.”


Turns to Goldilocks
“Goldi, you give my eyes a treat,
How about a date tonight, my sweet?
I’ve managed to borrow a wizard car,
(I promise not to go too far)
I’ve lots of gas and a case of beer,
And there’s a dance at the Arena, too, I hear.
We could have such a lot of fun.
So say you’ll come my lovely one.”

“Car, beer . . . hmm . . . NO! away Lt. Bligh,
That line of yours is all my eye.
You’re trying to get me in a situation,
That would involve an intruder operation.
But I am up to all your games,
Go find yourself some other dames.”

“Oh yes! She’s up to all your wiles,
Go seek some other charmer’s smiles.
There’s a red-head who will like your tricks,
Scrounging down in Works and Bricks.”
“What wench! You dare say no to me?
You’ll regret it someday, just you see.”

“Ha, ha, heh, heh, I’ve an idea,
To fix friend Dick, leave my way clear.”

Exit Bligh, and Goldi, just after. Enter a Group Captain, puts two men on a charge for non-issue hair cuts and addresses the crowd at large.

Group Cap.:
“I’m the C.O., you all know that,
I’ve scrambled eggs upon my hat.
My office is a sacred place,
All airmen quail before my face.
(although I know it as a fact,
They call me names behind my back).
So if you men would be like me,
Here’s good advice I give you free.”


“Now back in 1891,
An AC2 was I by gum!
But by the sweat of back and brow,
I’ve worked up to where I am now.
By never, never, shirking chores,
And scrubbing countless latrine floors,
I rose to rank of LAC,
By early on in ’33.
And then in war-torn ’39,
I joined the swelling aircrew line,
Defending Britain’s gallant shores
In a Spit Mk II, I shot down scores
Of 109’s and 215’s.
(I really seemed to have nine lives).
So it’s diligence I have to thank,
I now hold this exulted rank.”

“This inducement on to you I pass,
To shine your boots and clean your brass.”

Exit C.O. Chorus is speechless for once, then an airman steps forward.

[page break]

December, 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Nine

“I’m the only one in captivity,
The only living AC3,
For thirty years I’ve worn the blue.
(I started as an AC2).
And although I’ve tried and tried and tried,
I’ve just been taken for a ride.
Of scrubbing floors he talks to you,
I’ve scrubbed the blooming runways too.
So when aircrew sent out for the best,
I took their ruddy intelligence test.
And look at me now an A.C.3!
Ah woe! Ah woe! Ah woe Is me!

Sniffles, then braces his shoulders.

No! I care for nobody, no not I!”

“He does not weep, he does not cry,
Look at his fearless, flashing eye!”


A W.O. dashes on, dances a few steps, sings:

“You speak too soon, I’d like to point,
I’m S.W.O. of this damn joint,
So I’m the guy that weilds [sic] the whip,
The rudder of this flaming ship.
Which is only as it ought to me,
As of the hobbies that I choose
My favourite’s signing 252’s.
So have a care, don’t care to cough,
For fear that I should knock you off.”

“Of all the hobbies that he’d choose,
His favourite’s signing 252’s.
So now we’ll use a little tact,
And finish off scene one, first act.”


Scene II

A few days later, same location, chorus strewn about as before.

Enter Dick, wearing a maroon and mauve windbreaker and a red plaid muffler.

“Well here I am, I’m back again,
Flying’s scrubbed it’s going to rain.
I’ve just come down, alone I flew,
Away up there in the blue, blue, blue.
And do I curse when these g-dd-mn showers,
Stop me from knocking up solo hours.”

Two S.P’s wander in, stand to attention and sing:

“Oh! We are the R.A.F. S.P.’s,
And we arrest anyone we please,
If you dare to blink or even think,
We’re here to throw you in the klink.
That no one loves us we know,
With this burden through life we go,
But our backs are broad and our shoulders strong,
So to hell with you, we get along.”

Enter Fl/Lt. Bligh, strides up and points an accusing finger at Dick.

“Come S.P.’s now arrest this man,
Take and lock him in the can.
Whilst on a weather check, now I
Definitely saw the cad low-fly.”

Enter O.C. flying.

O.C. flying:
“Oh Dick! Oh Dick! For shame! For shame
That you should smear your father’s name!
There is no choice you leave me then,
But put you down for a C.M.”

“For shame, For shame! You are a rat,
That you should do a thing like that.”

“It is not true, it’s all a lie,
I never, never, would low-fly.
The very soul of honour – ME?
My Bible is the C.A.P.”

Enter Goldilocks, looking very distraught, cries:

“Oh Dick! Oh Dick! What have you done?
How could you? How could you? Beloved one?
Why did you do this to me?
They’ll knock you down to an L.A.C.
And apart from that you’re sure to get,
A hundred days or so of Det.”

“It is not true! I’m not to blame,
The whole thing is a dirty frame.
I bet the real culprit is Bligh,
He’s just the type that would Low-fly.”

“Ha ha! We’ve heard those yarns before,
You’re trying to avoid the issue sore.
You’re wasting your time, it is no use.
Take him away to the calaboose.”

Exit Dick, under close arrest, Goldilocks falls weeping over a plotting table. Bligh laughs up his sleeve. Rest shake their heads sadly.

“Oh! What a sorry state of things,
They might even take away his wings.”


Scene III

As before Goldilocks is working at her desk. She is looking pale and worn. Has she been worrying over Dick? Is she anaemic? Then music is heard, (it goes something like that). Dick dashes on, trips over the wastepaper basket, calls it by name, falls on Goldi’s neck and kisses her. Picks himself up, dances round and sings happily:

“I beat the rap! I beat the rap!
And all thanks to some farmer chap,
Who with the most amazing sight
Observed the number on the kite.
It really was that blighter Bligh,
Who caused the old man’s pigs to die.
Now he has had a severe rep.
And from now on must watch his step.”

“He beat the rap! He beat the rap!
So three cheers for this farmer chap.
Who with most uncanny sight,
Observed the aircraft number right.”

Enter Bligh, scowling, cursing, coughing, etc.

“Though I was foiled, you rejoice too too soon,
Your posting’s through this afternoon.
Now you’re bound for oversea,
Which leaves the field quite clear for me.”

Dick looks stupefied, (stupid anyway), Goldi looks miserable, Bligh exits laughing harshly. (Must be he smokes too much).

“Oh Dick! Although away you go,
That I’ll be true you’ll always know.
So hurry win yourself some fame,
And then come back to me again.”

“I will come back, that never fear,
Though it will be about a year.
I’ll earn some rings around my wrist,
Then I can give Bligh’s nose a twist.”

Exit Dick and Goldi to apply for some leave.

“Oh weep! Oh wail! Oh gnash the teeth!
Dick’s going home to Hampstead Heath.
Oh now what will poor Goldi do?
When she feels like a spot of woo?”


Act II

Scene I

Goldie has got a commission and has her own office in H.Q. (we had to change the scene somehow).

“Oh where! Oh where! Has Richard gone?
Oh where! Oh where! Is he?
Has he been shot up? Has he been shot down?
Oh where! Oh where! Can he be?”

Enter Bligh

“Now listen, Dick is surely dead,
They must have filled him full of lead.
So why not listen to my plea,
And come on a 48 with me?”

“NO! A thousand times and more,
I’m a girl that knows the score.
If Dick has died a hero’s death,
A spinster me till my last breath.”

“To talk you know is very well,
But I am weakening sad to tell.”

Chorus appears at various windows and doors.

“No! Don’t give in, they’ll never kill
Our Dick, he’s got a head like steel,
And bullets from each Messerschmitt,
Will only blunt themselves on it.”

Band off strikes up “There’ll Always be an England”. Dick enters, he is a Squadron Leader, with more ribbons than that.

“At last I’m back from overseas,
With loads and loads of D.F.C.’s,
And for good measure, I have too,
Collected an odd bar or two.
It really was quite simply done,
I just shot down a hundred Hun.
But now’s the time for my revenge,
Bligh’s dirty tricks I will avenge.”

“Oh joy! Oh rapture most sublime!
He has returned, this lover mine.
Now we can wed as sure as sure,
And I’ll have babies by the score.”

Dick advances on Bligh, who is standing dumfounded, a short struggle ensues and finally Dick throws him through a window, much to the disgust of chorus members gathered there. He and Goldilocks embrace. Enter the whole company, carrying the S.W.O. who has just come back from 7 days in Toronto. (N.B. it is a big office, see).

“This is the end, I’m doing fine,
Now Goldilocks is really mine.
As a babe she is a solid whiz,
So the moral of this story is;
That if you always toe the line,
You’ll come out on top-you hope-some time.”

“He says that if you toe the line,
You will come out on top sometime.
But don’t you listen to his stuff,
It really is most awful guff.
But anyway it made a yarn,
So we don’t really give a darn.
This is the end we say adieu,
And Merry Christmas, Friends, to you.”


Page Ten HILL TOPICS December, 1943


[Photographs x 5]

Well, folks, here we are again with the gossip for another month! We welcome our new arrivals from the Old Country and hope they will enjoy their ‘holiday’ in the Land of the Maple Leaf. Cheer up, lads, only two more years to go! Queer happenings – six policemen arrived i[indecipherable letter] ration strength increased by twelve! Don’t ‘Howlett’, but these lads can sure eat! What a pity meal cards aren’t transferable!
Much rejoicing at the Guard room when the latest boat list was published. By the way, there is no truth in the rumour that all four are trying to get ‘off the boat’.
Our basketball team is going great guns now that we have signed on the two Chinamen. “Wew un Wunce” and “How Long Since”. “Greaves’ Follies” have now moved from the foot of the league, and are increasing their threat to the team third from the bottom.
Our sergeant, (with the encouragement of a certain Flight-Sergeant), seems to us to be spending too much of his time across the border. No names, no pack drill, but “Wilson” puts him on the spot on the slightest provocation. We have the address of his girl friend out west.
Watch for a few surprises in our section in the next few weeks. A few of the boys are adding a bit of camouflage by the growth of some hair on their upper lips. Two faced, eh? Watch to your laurels, “Diamond Gin”, “Antonio Beltup” is on the war path!
In closing, we would like to remind a few officers and Senior N.C.O.’s that the box at the Main Gate is not “Bob’s Lunch”. We don’t mind lashing up a cup of brew now and then, but how about a nickel once in a while, to help swell the Police Holiday Fund?
And so, until next time, we remain, your binding brother.

The good work started by the Maintenance soccer team is being carried on by the basketball and billiards teams. Like the football team, the basketball team was off to a shaky start, but have now settled down to play really effectively. If our present team is allowed to stay together, we should be somewhere near the top when the season finishes. The billiards team started off in fine style, but slipped up somewhat in their last game. We are confident that this was only a temporary lapse. One of our chaps, Peter Forbes, has won the station table tennis championship, for which we extend our heartiest congratulations. Peter has represented the station at cricket and tennis, is a more than useful basketball player, and also plays a crafty game of billiards and snooker, so that on the whole, he is a useful member of our sporting community. We have not been able to possess his technical ability as yet.
Quite a few of our boys have joined the ranks of the LAC.’s with one G.C., while Ginger Western’s tapes came through in time to save him from the honour of being an LAC with two G.C.’s. Congratulations Ginger.
One of our new G.C.’s, Johnny Moore, is acquiring a reputation as a Jack of all trades. His trade is F.II.A., officially, but his best work is done before he comes down to the hangar, when he fills the role of a human alarm clock. Just recently he has divided his attention between doing engine changes (under expert technical supervision), and hermetically sealing the flight-sergeant’s office with great sheets of asbestos and masking tape. In his spare time, he likes to go farming, but his chief hobbies, are:
(a) Going to bed early.
(b) Getting up early.
(c) Getting everybody else up early.
He works with, and sometimes in spite of, another G.C., who spends most of his spare time in a state of semi-coma on his bed. The rest of his time is spent in a state of semi-coma in the hangar, relieved by an odd burst of feverish activity in such places as Montreal.
He is fond of good music, good food and corporal CWAC’s, (not necessarily good), although this last does not mean that he has any prejudice against corporals in any of the other services.
N.B. – The R.A.F. always expected, of course.
That is all the gossip for this month, I think, so we will close down for another month.

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December, 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Eleven

We open this column with a happy note by wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New, and we hope the next will see you celebrating this joyful occasion in “The Local”.
We wish to extend our congratulations to F/Sgt. and Mrs. Biggs on the safe arrival of a baby daughter. Keep up the good work, “Chiefy”.
Recently we have said farewell to our very popular test pilot F/O Hughes, who is leaving us for Blighty. Goodbye sir, and good luck. In his place we welcome F/O. Bond whom we know will be very happy with us in “test flight”. We promise you sir, to find the “lost revs” from previous air tests, and keep them in a well sealed container.
Another new face has appeared in this hangar, namely F/O. Johnson, who succeeds F/Lt. Littlejohn, as flight commander. F/Lt. Littlejohn crosses over the apron to the “Sanctum of Gen”, where he now assumes command of this wing as C.E.O.
Our heartiest congratulations are extended to the pioneers who trekked from 5 to 6 hangar, a short while ago. What a huge success it must have been ! ! ! Evidently, 6 hangar blokes must have lapped up the “technical gen” from our former colleagues, for now the remainder of 5 hangar staff are to join them and make it an incorporated company known as “The Sooper Dooper Gen Shop Inc.” (Flights, please note).
Cupid is also working very hard. “The Bells are Ringing” will soon be the theme song of LAC. Sheepwash who is being married in Toronto in the very near future. Congrats Ron and the future Mrs. Sheepwash, and may you both be very happy.
What we want to know is –
Why a certain corporal booked out a nice new tool roll, complete with tools? Was it voluntary, or M.W. R.O.’s? Is it true he has promised never to use it?
How to gain admittance to the ever increasing ranks of the “Three Years Sentence Served Club”? This is indicated by a beautiful inverted chevron and is now being worn by many “old lags”. Our “sympathies” are extended to the latest members – LAC. Buckley, LAC. Dormer, and AC. Mitchell.
Did a certain unpleasant occurence [sic] to an airman’s hat in the “Regent” Theatre, one evening, have anything to do with a new hair tonic being patented? Are you going to buy a comb now, Fred?
What the two crafty hounds of wine, women and song will do on the New Year’s leave? Will Ted take Jim to Buffalo, or will Jim manage to persuade Ted to go to New York? There is sure to be a large size piece of femininity lined up, anyhow.
Is a certain corporal suffering nervous tension in case “the boat” pulls in before the big freeze up – in which case, he’ll be deprived of his one source of lineshooting, - ice hockey?
That’s all for this month, chaps, your reporter signing off.

Officers’ Mess Chatter
The stork has been busy recently – congratulations to F/Lt. McEvoy, F/O. Wagstaffe and F/O. Ratcliffe.
A lot of changes in the mess recently. We are all very sorry to say goodbye to S/L. Boles, whose dashing personality we shall all miss. To F/Lt. ‘Sam’ Calland, a great guy and a real friend; and to Doc Franklin, to whom we offer our good wishes on his new appointment.
A hearty welcome to our new members. Amazing how quickly these op types get in the groove.
F/Lt. – seems to enjoy his supper in the airmen’s mess. A certain nursing sister is looking rather blue these days. Is it true that F/O. – is studying dramatics with a well-known actress? There is not much privacy in the Card Room Hall, is there F/O.-? What qualifications are needed to join the Senior Officers’ Mutual Admiration Society? Those town gossips are quick on the uptake S/L.- . Our handsome, dark-eyed F/O. is very quiet these days. Losing touch, old man? Air gunners seem to have varied interests, Beauty Salons, Kindergarten schools, etc.
So a certain S/L. goes to Montreal just to sleep. Strange! That hotel in Picton is a friendly place, F/Lt.- or do you think so? Why so worried these days Mac? Any truth in the rumours that our great lover has at last got caught?
But Christmas is coming – we should be charitable and so to one and all we extend our heartiest wishes for the Yuletide season. “NICHEVO”.

The Sergeants’ Messings
The Sergeants’ Mess has had a recent influx of new members so that with perhaps one exception their behaviour has been without blemish (and interest), or well hidden . . . and since the exception has been published in DRO’s, no further comment is necessary except to remind this lad that N.C.O’s are supposed to be able to carry their liquor or stick to Coke . . .
One Sergeant-pilot, (no, he hasn’t got his crown yet . . .) managed to make a perfect landing without any assistance from his undercart and was congratulated by his goons but NOT by the authorities . . . No esprit de muck-in . . .
Another is wearing a beautiful “shiner” together with half-a-dozen stitches and claims that he was not under the influence, but was merely playing his part of the Big Dog . . . (no one seems to know the exact meaning of the expression). Mess meetings still have their familiar Burlesque or Old-Time Music Hall atmosphere, and our scantily haired concert comedian oft times seems to think he is in the Y.M. and not the S.M. . . .
Some of our older members are leaving us or have left, either for the Land of the Free (!) or to the Officers Mess . . . and in this latter respect Laddie Shedden (better known to some as the Duty Gremlin) and Digger Lowett, our Colonial friend from the land of sheep, are to be congratulated or something. Well, lets hope that there will be more of interest next month as the newer members settle down to their salub-

The club itself is situated opposite the Drill Hall, and is open all day for use by members to spend their leisure hours in comfort. It is hoped that more and more use of the club with the facilities it has to offer, will be made by all junior N.C.O.’s, to keep alive the interest that is necessary to continue to make the club a success, so that it may be regarded as their “home from home”.
Flying Officer Dawson as President, Corporal Spencer as Chairman, Corporal Blake as Treasurer, and Corporal Hinds as Secretary, (newly elected), are the club officers.
The bar, which opens at 18.30 hours each evening, is under the very capable management of Corporal Bragg-Smith, and every endeavour is made to meet the requirements of all members. Any corporals willing to help behind the bar any evening, are asked to contact Corporal Bragg-Smith, who is only too anxious to receive help, no matter how small.
A complaint was received from the Treasurer, that he is bein[sic] “run off his feet” collecting “subs”, and the committee hope this will continue?
Sunday night is Guest Night, and all corporals are asked to take full advantage of the facilities offered.
Social evenings are arranged and it is noticed that a more active interest is being taken by the members on these occasions, and every effort is being made to make these evenings more successful every time one comes along so that our guests will go away full of the praises of the Corporals’ Club, as they have done in the past.
The club congratulates Corporals Robertson, Hamilton, Brown, Boardman and Ward, on their recent promotion and trust they will make themselves “at home” in the Corporals’ Club.
Who is the corporal who goes to bed with stripes on his pyjamas?

Control Calling
We hope you are receiving us loud and clear – rather a needless question, of course, because your set will probably be switched off – but nevertheless, we take this opportunity to remind all concerned that :
(a) The wash-out flag does NOT indicate a right-hand circuit.
(b) The Rumble Club is still in existence, despite the absence of the Black Dog.
(c) The best place to build a fire is in the fireplace – (it does not do the tarmac any good).
After much practice, we observe that some Lizzie pilots are becoming quite dexterous at knocking down the Christmas trees on the runways, and we are wondering who will be the first to achieve a 100 per cent score when touching down. We regret to announce that Works and Bricks are NOT offering a prize.
We wish our ex-O/C Flying, S/Ldr. Boles, the best of luck and happy landings – (the Verey pistols have been greased and stored away), and we welcome his successor, F/Lt. Ritcher to our midst.
That’s all for the moment gentlemen. Until next time we shall be listening out, listening out.
Song titles illustrated No. 1 “Pistol Packing Mama”.
- S/L Geo. Boles Standing at Control Tower Firing Signal Cartridges.

N Flight – Do Not Disturb
By the time this is published, the season of goodwill will be upon us once more; so we will start by wishing one and all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. The month of November has been an eventful one for the children of “Tong”. A month that they could have been justly proud of, but for the two unfortunate incidents, which the whole camp no doubt knows about, by now. To those who were injured, we tender our sympathies, and wish them a speedy recovery.
Apart from accidents, the flight has done very well, setting up a new record for bombs dropped at night, and also maintaining a high percentage of serviceability. Keep it up, lads.
The “Wooden Spoon”, this month, goes to a certain F/O., whose record for two details was; one burst tyre and one belly landing. Truly a good record. Maybe that certain Sgt. pilot was trying to equal this record, when he came in with his undercart up. What about it, Jock? Then there’s another F/O., who is haunted by brake trouble. Why don’t you try having a mag-drop sometime, sir or is that too technical?
AC. Malt came back from leave with some tall stories about his capacity for alcoholic beverages; and it seems he has devised a new time system, whereby he gets thirty-six hours out of twenty-four. Good going Malt. “Boston” Harry has left for the “States”, where he will spend his hard-earned leave; shooting? The rest of us are waiting for Christmas; when the Moonshine Boys will scatter to the four winds to spend their leisure time whoofing, guzzling, and spreading good-will throughout the land. Nothing like it.
The entertainment side of “N” is taken care of by the “Choristers”, led by one AC. Adlam, who does a good job of murder. Anyone caring to hear them, should submit their applications on the appropriate forms (triplicate), and then wait the usual six months for an answer; or they can take a bomb aimer’s course.
Unable to participate in any station sports, we have devised our own program, consisting of hockey (played in crew room), rugby (played in crew room), football (played in crew room) and baseball (played in crew room). If anyone has a spare crew room, we would be glad of it, as we wish to have two games going at once.
If anyone wishes to see a “Zombie”, just come along to 8L around six a.m. He walks then.
Here’s an incident worth recording. The scene is Chiefy’s office.
Pilot – “Why is the flame from the exhaust blue?”
Voice – “That’s because we’re using blue coloured gas.”
Pilot – “Well, if you used pink gas, what would you get”
Voice – “Pinking.”
A note to “B” and “C” Flights – When entering the billet, please leave your soap boxes outside.

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Page Twelve HILL TOPICS December, 1943

“A” Flight No. 4 Hangar
Here we are with just a few lines for our Christmas number. The festive season will be close upon us when this issue is en route, and we would like to say a “Merry Christmas” to all members of the Flight ground crew and flying personnel. May it be as near to as real Christmas as you would have it, and may the next one be spent with those in “the old country”.
Last month we achieved our ambition and saw all our serviceability tabs white on the serviceability board. During the past week we have reversed the order – and they were not the only things that were red either. The languages was of an equally outstanding hue.
Still, the panic is almost over and although somewhat exhausted, we find our heads keeping just above water again. No doubt someone will shove them under again by informing us that after all, if we want our New Year’s grant, we must forego our days off and 48’s for about six weeks – Jonah’s nightmare. Surprising how much can be demanded of so few as those who work with them, and yet know so little of them!
We are given to understand that F/O. Spencer is following in the footsteps of Mr. Pulleyn. Perhaps they both want real live Christmas presents and not paper dolls – or do they want someone to nurse them?
F/O. Hall appears to be next on the list. After all, Winnipeg on five days’ leave usually means something. He is in such a hurry he’s going by T.C.A. How is he getting back? Who is the officer who “shoots the line” that he takes his lady friend up to No. 4 range at night to see the bombs burst?
We welcome our new pilots on drivers airframe and hope they will be as (un)happy as their colleagues. F/O. Dawson and Davis have been transferred to “D” Flight. Perhaps their new Flight Commander may have more success with them with regard to P.T. than we had.
Congratulations to F/O. Dennis and F/O. Hall on their promotion. We observe that F/Lt. Davies is not looking quite the picture of health of late. We understand he complains that the early morning weather tests are killing him by inches.
P/O. Smith returning from leave in New York is just an empty shell. We believe he left his heart there and also something in Toronto. One current suggestion interests us, and also fills us with a certain amount of dismay. We understand it is intended to transfer to our hangar the night flying flight, plus one or two Bolingbrokes in addition, to a certain area also required by the training wing. Signals section – where do we put the other half of our complement of aircraft? No. 5 hangar crew room? The idea seems to be to spread the different sections over as many hangars as possible with a view to making the N.C.O’s in charge of flights hold their heads in dismay and wonder which hangar they are operating from.
And so “for the present we leave you” with, once again, Hearty Christmas Greetings.

Station Sick Quarters
Once again we take yet another plunge into the realms of journalism. This time, our staff having depleted somewhat, we have very little material from which to glean sarcasm, scandal and smut, or items of interest.
A short time ago a very substantial piece of medicine mixing machinery found its way to the sickery, in the person of Sgt. Ben Berebaum, alias, Whispering Smith. He soon became a very popular member of the staff and took the lead in the basketball team, helping us to lose our first game with a fair margin! !
The classification test for R.C.A.F. airmen caused quite a stir amongst the Canadian members of the staff. One clk. gen. med. was heard to say; “I think it was most unfair, I had just started when they said time was up!” However, they may decide he is below average and discharge him from the service, then he will be sorry; but why worry there’s always the R.A.F.!
The pressure of work in this section is too much for some of the staff. One worthy LAC. G.C., who has suffered from ponophobia for some time, had a very disturbing dream recently. After dreaming that he had been beheaded, he awoke with a start, and raising his hand was amazed to find his head still there!
In conclusion we wish our new Station Mag. every success.

Camphor, turpentine, and tea.
The smell of coffee freshly ground,
Of these, we love three,
When ma is not around.

After a short summer we see the departure of F/Sgt. Harrison, LAC. Chadwick and with knashing of teeth, the boy Kernigan. Bon voyage to them. Count Horribin has left us, accompanied by the fast-fading LAC. Thompson, whose death we will report, when he has kicked the bucket.
Dan Cupid has been working overtime lately, with the weddings of AC. and Mrs. Brom Jones, AC. and Mrs. Harry Jones and AC. and Mrs. Stanley Leversidge. Our best wishes to all ten of them.
That dashing young dark-head late of Wellington, misled in the past, has changed his route to Waupoos. We are now suffering from a milk shortage. Last week, amid the horrors of the English language, Pop Beasley and Mrs. Maggs were promoted. Bags of binding now.
Who is that Corporal we see standing outside school every day? Is some one moving into the fourth form soon? Old toothless is sure getting some in. We have never found out whether those missing teeth were the result of too much bobbing, or acting co-pilot on a flying stock pot.
The S/O. office floor looks clean these days. Our corporal who lives out should keep off his knees. He may go up with the blind some morning.
That Gen. man of the concrete mixers is again on the grave yard shift along with the old firm of Steads and Davey Incorporated. Those Blue Circle Blue-prints sure make a good win of the pastry with the many slabbering spittle-throwers that the dentist sends us.
The day will come when we will meet you binders on the Burma Road and we shall shovel you the bean ration for breakfast, dinner and tea.

“Duff Gen.” From H.Q.
Corporal “Gabby” Whiteley, our departed (on posting) and much lamented “D.R.O. King” and basketball enthusiast, has, as a result of his leaving us, caused the question to be raised as to the necessity for the installation of a Tanoid System at 31 B. & G.S.

The other “loud speaker” in S.H.Q. (no names mentioned) has, for some unknown reason, been less audible of late. This may assist “the powers that be” to reach a decision regarding the above mentioned proposed installation.

LAC. Jimmy Foster, Corporal Whiteley’s successor, has been advised not to “dally” with D.R.O’s.

It has been recently observed that a certain Senior N.C.O. in S.H.Q. Orderly Room (not F.F.) has displayed a considerable amount of keenness in obtaining an ‘early chit’ on top of his “48’s”. We wonder whether the reason is compassionate or just passionate.

Extract from an article on Fish Farming from the November issue of Hill Topics:- “The local fishermen also co-operate in the work of obtaining the eggs, and they also are packed in boxes and taken to the hatchery in the usual way” – In the ensuing paragraph the writer explains how the boxes are unpacked and the eggs removed, but we are at a loss to know what happens to the fishermen. Perhaps “E.D.B.” could solve the mystery.

“G.I.S. Gen”
The G.I.S. is settling down after its “shakedown” cruise, and the staff and pupils are beginning to understand the hieroglyphics issued by the Central Control. Despite gossip, Central Control is organized. Look how it organized itself the man who could fix lino on the floor; (would-be central controllers might do well to study easy chairs in the local dealers).
We offer our congratulations to F/Lt. McEvoy on his promotion to fatherhood and F/Lt.’ancy and our best wishes for a safe trip home. Also “on the boat”, F/Sgts. James Brookfield and Woodman. All our best to them.
Welcome to F/Lt. Rigg, the new school Adj., and to F/O. Olver, who descends from AMBT to the mad-house. Hockey should commence soon, so roll up fans and players; we want to blow up W. & B. this season.

What is the attraction at Niagara Falls? No prizes offered, but it’s not watching the water. Two instructors used to slip away furtively, leaving much speculation behind them.
The secret is now out; they were caught building their own boat.

(H.Q. of the Wrong Bomb Society)
Who is the Sgt. Pilot who is getting a reputation for binding the analysis. No NOT binder Stevenson. And he is not to be confused with the pilot who claimed two spinners during a night exercise. To substantiate these claims efforts are being made to give the bombs a covering of phosphorescent paint. Is it possible to get lost over Prince Edward County, (in reasonably good weather of course). We know of at least one pilot who had reason to be grateful to a bomb aimer map reader. It is only fair to state that he had been engaged on our longest “hop” – to number 3 target – of course there is always the possibility of flak over Waupoos, or would it be arrows? Then there is the pilot who shouted “Tally ho, bandits ahead” as he observed two strange Ansons tack on to his detail over number one target (bags of squadron bombing) plenty of fourth of July stuff and all that, for the range staff who were frantically firing red signals to such an extent that Flight Sergeant Perfect had to replenish his stock.
Mention of the range staff and pyrotechnics brings to mind the ghastly attempt to flatten one of the quadrant huts recently, or should I say ghastly, strange as it may seem the student had found a very good wind, his line of sight was good, and even the pilot must have been on the “bit”, for the bomb fell close enough for even the range staff to realize that they were under fire, resulting in a frantic race to the table, the unlucky one emulated the example of “Pistol Packing Mama” dared the dangers hurtling from above, and fired more of FLIGHT Sgt. Perfect’s pyros. The student’s excuse was that on certain headings he mistook the quadrant hut for the target. Likely story eh? Let me hazard an opinion of what really went on in his mind. During the run up:- Targets are getting too dull and uninteresting. After all that same triangle does get a trifle boring, the bloody bombs usually steer clear of it anyway. Ah: and he chortles craftily what better target could one select than the quadrant hut, - kill two birds with one stone – ruin the quadrants and the B-ers inside it. Ha ha, as he thinks of his 300 yard error yesterday, I’ll teach ‘em to make such a “balls, picnics and parties” of our bombs. Unheralded unsung and frequently cursed, these heroes of the ranges defy death daily, not even a bloomin’ Picton long service medal. Some more hopeful faces appearing in view. AC. Bennett is pushing the charts ungracefully through the wicker so until next month good plotting.

P.S. – Who are the MOODY individuals always COOKING something together?

P.P.S. – Who is the “lowe” type who solves coefficient “C” when swinging a compass by using quadratic equations, and who is his sergeant fellow criminal who insists on using simultaneous equations.


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December, 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Thirteen

We have suffered quite a few losses during the past month and many well known figures have left us, others we welcome to Picton, perhaps especially those fresh from the “Old Country”, the lads from whom we wrest the latest gen.
W/C/ Anderson has departed, his dog still roams the camp in search of him. Medical officers have come and gone, but it seemed that “Frankie” went on for ever. Now the popular F/Lt. Franklin has left us, having said “cheerio” for Saskatchewan. S/L. Geo. Boles who has been the stations O/C. flying for the past eleven months, is leaving, this probably means goodbye too, to R.A.F. The Scotch terrier to whom he is so closely attached. Wing Commander Kennedy thus loses his staunch and able snooker partner, and the officers’ mess it’s most perlific [sic] commentator. His constant advice to his opponent, and his ready assistance in giving them “the angle” was always a source of amusement.
A soccer personality well known to officers and men alike has the “boat gleam” in his eye. He is F/O. Jock Campbell who has been a real stalwart in the station team for so many months. Jock has won many admirers by his grand sportsmanship, his coolness, and clean play, never unruffled he was an inspiration to the team and will certainly be missed. Before joining the ranks of the R.A.F. F/O. Campbell played professional football in Scottish league football with Partick Thistle. Another Scotsman, one of the quiet types will be with him – F/O. McKellar. We make mention elsewhere re the departure of F/Lt. Calland, popular junior accountant officer. P/O. Simpson who has waited a long time for the boat was well known as a W/O. Quite a few whose bombs he had plotted in the early days, returned to the station after graduating as instructors.
One of the strangest sights to be seen on the station, was a rather eccentric (peculiar type) fellow, who invariably wore his hat from ear to ear, and whose weird grin matched the slant of the hat. He ambled along and his stock phrase was “I’m only a – Corporal” if you know the description you know the man. The last word of the phrase changed recently to sergeant. A peculiar sight perhaps, but one that will be missed. Sgt. C. Douglas Deane, the station’s eminent photographer returns to England with a few of America’s choicest photographic competition prizes. An expert with birds we wish him good hunting on his return. The station dance band has felt the loss of its drummer and string bass, and “A” Flight it’s comedian, by the posting of F/S. Norman Richardson.
The well represented clan of Scotland has lost another of its number by the departure to Charlottetown of F/Sgt. Robertson, the genial “Robbie” was quite an old timer at Picton.
We are happy to welcome yet another “gonged” flier to Picton, coming to us from the west F/O. Asker, D.F.C., D.F.M., is not among strangers. He has flown on operational sorties with our chief instructor W/Cdr. J. Kennedy, D.F.C.
We extend a cordial welcome to F/Lt. Fenn, medical officder, and F/O. Johnson, engineering officer. A welcome return is given to F/L. Rigg and P/O. Beatson, two ex-operational types from New Zealand. As F/O. Rigg and F/Sgt. Beatson they left Picton a few weeks ago and have returned to us from Pennfield Ridge. Congratulations to them both on their promotion and on being posted back to Picton.
F/Lt. Rither comes to us from 31 S.F.T.S. which is “just up the lake a piece” at Kingston, and from 32 S.F.T.S. (which is not next door as the number might suggest) we welcome Sgt. Ritchie and Sgt. Lewis added to the recent influx of pilots are Sgts. Spikins, Hammel, and Halfacre from 34 S.F.T.S.
Two new faces have appeared in the photographic section, Sgt. Matthews has arrived from Medicine Hat, and Corporal Reynolds said farewell to England recently, and has brought some of the latest gen for his section. Photography is playing a most important part in this war and his up to date knowledge should be of value to those whose duty deals with this subject.

No. 1
Overture: “Colonel Bogey”.
The C.O. of No. 594 B. & G. School is seated at his desk carefully scraping egg off of his tie with an old razor blade. Time 14.30 hours. Year 1975.
Enter the Adjutant, spurs jingling, salutes smartly.
Adj. – “Good morning sir.”
C.O. – “Good morning, put yourself on a charge, you have your hair parted in the middle again.”
Adj. – “Very good sir.”
C.O. – “Well how many charges have we to deal with today?”
Adj. – “1,863, sir.”
C.O. – “Practically the whole station eh! Oh well, send the first one in.”
Adj. – “Sorry sir I can’t, it’s a mutiny and they are barricaded in the cookhouse with all the available arms and ammunition.”
C.O. – “Mutiny eh! What’s the matter with them this time?”
Adj. – “It’s about that airman that you had flogged to death yesterday for having dirty boots, sir. They think that you should have let him off with the rack sir.”
C.O. – “Oh! Is that all? I thought that they were beefing about the food again. Take the S.W.O. on the square and shoot him, that should appease them.”
Adj. – “Can’t sir, no ammunition.”
C.O. – “That’s the trouble with you, always finding difficulties. Alright, throw him to the mob then.”
Adj. – “Very good sir.”
Exit Adjutant.
C.O. goes back to scraping his tie. Five minutes alapse [sic] then a loud roar of voices is heard followed by a horrible scream cut short suddenly.
Enter Adjutant.
Adj. – “Everything is alright now sir they’ve gone back to work.”
C.O. – “Good, what happened?”
Adj. – “They tore him limb from limb sir.”
C.O. – “Too bad, still we all have to make sacrifices in wartime. Give the remains a military funeral.”
Adj. – “I’ll attend to it personally sir.”
C.O. – “Creeping again, eh? Alright you can have a 48 next year. What’s next?”
Adj. – “A.C.2 Plunk interview for a commission sir. He applied 5 years ago, everyone else has interviewed him and he has had the ordeal by fire, it’s your turn now.”
C.O. – “Alright send him in, have to do it somewhen I suppose.”
Exit Adjutant, enter AC.2 Plunk in best blue, prostrates himself before the desk.
C.O. – “AC.2 Plunk, so you want a commission eh?” Laughs fiendishly.
“Alright I’ll give you an intelligence and general knowledge test. Now, who is the most popular man on the station?”
Plunk – “You are sir.”
C.O. – “Good, and who is the most intelligent man on the station?”
Plunk – “You are sir.”
C.O. – “Good, and who is the best looking man on the station?”
Plunk – “You are sir.”
C.O. – “Very good, and are you going to lend me $5?”
Plunk – “Yes sir.”
C.O. – “Excellent, 100 per cent, go and buy a uniform.”
Plunk prostrates himself again and goes to leave the room.
C.O. – “Just a minute, make it a Flight Lieut.’s, you’re promoted. I shall need a new Adjutant, have to get rid of the present one, I can’t stick a yes-man.”
Plunk – “Yes sir.”
Salaams and exits. Enter Adjutant.
C.O. – “What’s next?”
Adj. – “A number of documents for your signature sir.”
C.O. looks at his watch.
C.O. – “Too late now, time for tea. Give them to the Senior Admin., he’s always signing my name on checks, can do it better than I can.”
Adj. – “Very good sir.”
Exit Adjutant. C.O. gazes thoughtfully after him, mutters to himself.
C.O. – “Haven’t thrown anyone to the crocodiles for a long time.”
Puts on hat and exits to strain of “Nearer My God to Thee.”

I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it;
I’ve rouged an’ I’ve ranged in my time;
I’ve ‘ad my pickin’ o’ sweethearts,
An’ four o’ the lot was prime.
One was an ‘arf-caste widow,
One was a woman at Prome,
One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, (head groom)
An’ one is a girl at ‘ome.

“Now I aren’t no ‘and with the ladies,
For taken them all along,
You never can say till you’ve tried ‘em,
An’ then you are like to be wrong.
There’s times when you think that you mightn’t,
There’s times when you think that you might;
But the things you will learn from the yellow an’ brown
They’ll help you a lot with the white!”

I was a young un at ‘oogli,
Shy as a girl to begin;
Aggie de Castrer she made me,
An’ Aggie was clever as sin;
Older than me, but my first un –
More like a mother she were –
Showed me the way to promotion an’ pay,
An’ I learned about women from her!

Then I was ordered to Burma,
Acting charge o’ Bazaar,
An’ I got me a tiddy live ‘eathen
Through buyin’ supplies of her pa.
Funny and yellow an’ faithful –
Doll in a teacup she were –
But we lived on the square, like a true married pair.
An’ I learned about women from her!

Then we shifted to Neemuch
(or I might ha’ been keeping ‘er now),
An’ I took with a shiny she-devil,
The wife of a nigger at Mhow;
“Taught me the gipsy-folks ‘bolee’; (slang)
Kind o’ a volcano she were,
For she knifed me one night ‘cause I wished she was white,
An’ I learned about women from ‘er.

Then I come ‘ome in a trooper,
‘Long of a kid of sixteen –
Girl from a convent at Meerut,
The straightest I ever ‘ave seen.
Love at first sight was ‘er trouble,
She didn’t know what it were;
An’ I wouldn’t do such, cause I liked ‘er too much,
But – I learned about women from ‘er!

I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it,
An’ now I must pay for my fun,
For the more you ‘ave known o’ the others
The less will you settle to one;
An’ the end of it’s sittin and thinkin’,
So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not),
An’ learn about women from me!
- Rudyard Kipling

Corporal so-and-so was in S.S.Q. with a badly festered hand which had necessitated two incisions. On one of the daily rounds made by the M.O. the corporal enquired, “Do you think I shall be able to play the piano alright when it’s healed up Sir?” “Why of course Corporal”, replied the M.O. “That’s good,” replied the corporal, “I couldn’t before I came in hospital!”

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Page Fourteen HILL TOPICS December, 1943

Sport and Entertainment
THE Christmas festivities will soon be upon us and plans are being feverishly put into operation to bring you lots of the old Christmas Spirit, (not the kind that comes out of bottles). A Christmas dance has been fixed for the 22nd of December, in the Armories, and a children’s party which will give you the opportunity to return some of the hospitality that you have enjoyed in the locality, on the 21st of December. This is also being held in the Armories. There are plans going ahead to make some very amusing novelties for the kiddies, so a good time should be had by all.
We hope to make the Christmas dance the best ever, a pretty tall order say those who were at the other Christmas dances in the past, the people who are organizing it think that they can at least try. Well I think we can say that we have had a pretty lively month in the Recreation hall, with such grand shows as the Lifebouy Follies, Hitting the Jackpot, and the Massey-Harris show “Combines”.
The Lifebouy Follies were superb; they seem to improve with every visit. The slick way they put their show over stamps them as first class performers. Those two live wires Pat Rafferty and Jimmy add just the right amount of fun and games without lowering the class. Hitting the Jackpot was also a good show with a lot of smart girls ably led by Mrs. Kenny, that versatile lady with lots of pep. The Massey-Harris “Combines” had something different with the Adagio dancers Meta and St. John, assisted by a very fine chorus of lovelies. This party all work in the Massey-Harris plant during the week and do this entertaining of troops in their spare time.
The Station Concert Party presented a show on Wednesday, 24th November in the Recreation Hall, I think everyone will agree that it was super and anyone who didn’t have aching sides when they left the hall must be a hard man to please, for there were comedians galore, and it was difficult to walk about backstage without treading on one.
W.O. Rieck and Tubby Fields were, of course, the leading lights with their fun and games which knitted the show together. The Orderly Room sketch was good too with Mr. Reick as the “Brains Trust” Chiefie who forgot his pants.
A very good turn was the Western Bro.’s act typical topical songs put over by LAC. Abercrombie and Cpl. Spencer in a manner that brought memories of the pre-war Music Halls and a couple of everybodies’ favourites.
LAC. Abercrombie also did his parson sketch with some variations from last time, and again brought many laughs.
The unusual item in this show was Mr. Green and Sgt. Sleeper with guitar and fiddle, playing square dance music in the rustic manner, which was well received by the audience.
LAC. Cartlidge was wizard on the piano, his three interpretations of “Stormy Weather” were grand, as were his other numbers.
The singers were good; LAC. Hughes’ “Holy City” was particularly fine. By the way I Boobed in the last issue of the Mag by misnaming this man Smith (no it wasn’t the first name I thought of). LAC. Jones sang “Trees” and Richard Tauber’s latest hit “My Heart and I” in splendid manner.
Thanks Mr. Reick and Tubby for a grand show. More! More! is the cry. The airmen’s dances have been still running successfully if somewhat spasmodically and good attendances are reported.
The Whist Drives are like the parson’s egg, good in parts. Why are the attendances so bad? Reasons for it dropped in the right quarter would be appreciated.
We have had some good films lately, and now that we have that second projector, a good picture is not spoiled by those irritating breaks. There are some good pictures due here in the near future.
Well all that remains for me to say is a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

With the cooler weather approaching, there is the possibility we shall soon be exposed to that all-Canadian game “ice-hockey”. It is suggested that before the season opens all hockey enthusiasts reserve their box seats on the rink adjacent to Headquarters. The rink for “skating only” has been made by Works & Buildings between G.I.S. and the Gaiety Theatre. No hockey sticks will be permitted on this rink so as to leave all possible scope for the headlong tactics of stunning beginners. New lights have been installed on the hockey cushion, and all is in readiness for that first sheet of ice. A meeting of all sections in an inter-section league has been called which resulted in representatives appearing for Works & Buildings, last year’s champions; G.I.S. Instructors, runners-up of last year; the Hospital; the Ranges; Repair Squadron; and the G.I.S. Pupils. The representatives from “down under” (Australians) are planning to “have a go” at this game. From all reports it appears as though there will be six sections interested in an inter-section league. Up to the time of writing the “Cooks and Butchers” of last year have not signified their intentions of icing a team. Possibly they are cooking up something so they can butcher or hack away as they did last year? There will, of course, be an inter-mess league, composed of officers’, sergeants’, corporals’, and airmen’s teams. There will be ample scope for exhibition games between such sections as the “Wingless Wonders”, the “Spitfires”, the “Australians”, the “English”, the “Scotch”, and the “Welsh” players.
Just as soon as the weather permits an ice surface will be produced to all and sundry to experience the “ups and downs” of ice hockey and skating in general. It is not likely we shall be able to commence the inter-section games until the middle of January. Any section interested in a team in the league should prepare a list of players and attend league meetings when they are called. When the season commences make full use of skating facilities, because the season is all too short.

Since the last issue of ‘Hill Topics’ this activity has made some headway, also the odd casuality [sic]. Some hopefuls have turned up for practice games, and have gone away with the thought that the game is a little rough. But as was expected the hardy rugged individuals that like to use their avoir-dupois in a sport stuck it, and are proving very inept in taking up this new sport.
We have tackled R.C.A.F. Trenton, which proved to be a very tame affair, even though we lost it to the tune of 13-2. The outstanding players for Picton were LAC. “Frenchy” Moore, Cpl. Vaukins in goal, and Cpl. Knight as forward. Being the first encounter, the Picton players were content mainly to feel their way around, and pick up the points as they went along.
In our second station game we played on our floor against the experienced team from I.T.S. Belleville, which proved to be a bruising affair. Although Picton lost 15-0, the Canadians were shaken up in more ways than one to realize that the R.A.F. were quite able to take them on at a game that is a half-brother of Canada’s main winter sport. The checking of our team was all that could be expected, but the scoring was fruitless, mainly because until now the R.A.F. players have not developed the technique of lifting the puck off from the floor. Improvement in playing was observed in LAC. Livingstone, Cpl. McKnight, and LAC. Waitson. Without the smart net-minding of Cpl. Vaukins in goal and Cpl. Hawley (who upsets the opponents) the score might have been considerably higher.
Since the above game more potential material has shown up to practices, in the shape and form of the “Anzacs” on the station. They have taken to floor hockey as “dice does to a black man” and will prove a liability to all whom they meet. It is hoped that in future games against other stations we shall render a better account of ourselves, anyway when games are played in the drill hall come along for this sport, and be prepared to turn out for pending practices.

Those who like a live show had better make a date for Wednesday, 15th December – there will be a display of boxing in the Drill Hall. It’s going to be an interesting evening, with a team from Mountain View, “squaring up” to a number of our boys, as the main attraction. Trenton have promised to put on several exhibition bouts, and a couple of our own Corporals have promised to give a display.
Boxing has an appeal of it’s own, arising, not just from the satisfaction of being able to use your fists, but mainly from the feeling of well being that only perfect physical fitness can give. The team now in training is showing great enthusiasm, and with the increased facilities available in the Drill Hall, will be able to vary their routine considerably.
If you are interested in learning something about this game, come around to the Drill Hall any Monday or Wednesday evening, and see for yourself what is going on. Get in touch with the officer or N.C.O. in charge, who will tell you how to get into condition, and learn how to use your fists and your feet, and your weight.
Finally, there is one point you must always remember, service boxing is NOT prize fighting. The winner is the man who scores points for quick, clean hitting, smooth foot work, and ability to defend himself, the courage to take a little punishment, and the “guts” to work as hard in the third round as he did in the first.

At the moment those interested in the art of knocking shuttlecocks around have the use of the courts on Tuesday evenings commencing at 19.15 hours. On Tuesdays all interested may meet in the Drill Hall and arrange games as they desire. It is hoped with a larger area now available in the Drill Hall to locate two or three courts away from the basketball courts, so that players may use the badminton courts on any evening of the week. There is still a shortage of shuttlecocks however, and the amount of playing done will be in proportion to the number of shuttlecocks available.
We have had one inter-station tournament to date, in which Picton did not fare too well, in fact of stations participating Picton was on the bottom rung. However with the next one which is being held on Thursday, Dec. 9th at No. 5 I.T.S., Belleville, we might produce some upsets in the district.
Some badminton enthusiasts and beginners are finding ample scope for playing and social experience by playing with the local Picton club where girls abound. For further details ask F/O. “Jock” Campbell why he is taking up this racquet (racket) game?

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December, 1943 HILL TOPICS Page Fifteen

Our first game was against the pupils at Mountain View when the team comprised of the players left from last season assisted by pupils. The station won by a large margin of 33-3, thanks to the help of LAC. Hughes. Sad to relate Flight Sgt. Robinson was injured in this game – an injury which kept him out of station rugby for the remainder of the season.
After a practice match the station XV visited Kingston and were badly defeated despite sterling work by F/O. Ellis. This game however served as a very useful lesson to all in that their defence must be more vigilant. Flight Sgt. Wilson sustained a wrist injury in this game which kept him out of active rugby for the rest of the season.
On the following day the station second XV entertained Kingston II and although Kingston again won by a small margin a good hard game was played until bad light drew the game to a premature end.
The outside activity of the game was then marred by the quarantine ban and during this time many very enjoyable games were played between the Officers and Sergeant Messes and the G.I.S. The latter team were most successful thanks to the good work of LAC.’s Wardell, Fellows, Small, Hughes and Lemon and also managed to bring to light some very useful players. What the Officers team lost due to fitness they made up in the experience of W/C. Kennedy, F/L. Sleep and others. During one of these games Sgt. Hayes received a knees injury which kept him out of the game for several weeks, the captaincy of the team being taken over by F/O. Ellis. It was also during this stage of inertia that our players from “down under” arrived and added zest to the games.
On the ban being raised the station XV again visited Kingston in the Command Championship Play-off on 19th October were defeated by 3-11 our score being a splendid kick by LAC. Fellows who unfortunately received a head injury in the last few minutes of the game. LAC. Jenkins also suffered a back injury in this game which rendered him for the rest of the season.
On the 30th October, we visited Mount Hope and after a hard game were defeated 8-6. We were unlucky to loose [sic] LAC. Lemon early in the first half especially as he was playing his best game of the season.
The G.I.S. in the meantime had two games with Mountain View G.I.S. both of which we managed to win mainly due to the good work of LAC. Hughes and some good kicking by LAC. Fellows.
Our last game of the season was against Port Albert at Toronto, on 13th November when we were without the valuable assistance of F/O. Birt, who unfortunately broke his collar bone in a practice game, and LAC. Wardell who had been posted. The game was lost by 4-11 our only score being an excellent drop kick by Sgt. Dix. The whole team played a hard clean game making a fitting close to a successful season and were glad to have such a good body of supporters for an away game.


Since the last issue of “Hill Topics” the inter-section league has had many games, and the standard of their sport has been greatly enhanced. Although we commenced the season with 22 teams and now have 19 teams, the competition is keen in each section of the league. Synthetic training, “D” flight air, and the station armoury teams have dropped out of the league. However if any players from these former teams desire to play, they can affiliate themselves to other sections.
To date there has been no attempt made to develop a “station team”, mainly because the scouts or touts have had no opportunity to see all potential hoopsters in action. Anyway those players that merit a try-out for the team will have the opportunity after the Christmas season.
At present, Headquarters rule the roost in the league by defeating Workshops in their last game. With only two reverses which were Maintenance Armoury and G.I.S. Pool the S.H.Q. team have a well balanced passing team, and will prove a threat to any section team. If Sgt. Verney could be on hand more frequently, his team would have a debating member on hand at all times. However, Cpl. “Timber” Wood as coach and scorer is seeing that all of AC. Elsey’s baskets are recorded.
Workshops as runners-up in the league, have proved a surprise team. With LAC. Gill on defence, and
LAC. Lord as a forward, this team proves a menace to teams that cannot keep their pace.
Maintenance Armoury have to date scored more baskets than any other team, mainly through the uncanny shots of our P.T. corporal, Cpl. McKnight. A tip to the other teams – “Why let this player score so many baskets without marking him?” This team has a good side and bags of enthusiasm, but the loquaciousness and perspicacity of some players will in the long run prove a liability to the team as a whole.
The G.I.S. Pool or “Anzac team” have proved themselves to be a winning side, with only one loss to date. With LAC. Hann sick the Aussies lost to Maintenance, 13-20. They have beaten Headquarters 12-14, and Workshops 30-11. With three games in hand over the leaders the “Kangis” will be leading contenders for the top rung.
The dark horse of the league has proven to be 92 Course led by LAC. Jenkinson. Although to date they have not met the league’s leading teams, 92 Course have played with much success against other touted teams. This team have the least number of goals scored against them which speaks well for their defence.
Maintenance with the experience of last season are plodding on up the ladder. Although having very few players they are experienced. With Cpl. Critchley their most persistent scorer off the team, Maintenance will be under some handicap.
Plotting Office with their forceful interceptions and plays have proven to be a robust team led by P/O. Spencer. However, with the fine nearly-unobserved movement of F/Lieut. Moody and P/O. Cook the team are somewhat handicapped by free shots. Cpls. Cooper and Wilson show up best for this team.
“A” Flight coached by AC. Smith, have developed into a fast-moving team, what they lack in size they possess in speed and stamina. The most recent surprise was when AC. Smith scored a winning basket to defeat G.I.S. Instructors 18-16 in the last few minutes of play.
The G.I.S. Instructors’ team have let all and sundry prognosticators down in their standard of play. Although made up of over 90 per cent Canadian personnel their results have proved disastrous and “Lloyds” would have been the losers. From all observations the R.A.F. team have checked them to a standstill, anyway the Instructors should be able to produce more than five players per game. F/O. Ellis shapes up very well and really forgets his rugger tactics.
“D” flight ground team coached by LAC. Paton, have recently suffered some telling reverses. However, the season is young and the experience of the early season should prove fruitful.
94 Course had a good position bequeathed to them by 89 Course but have been gradually slipping. Anyway they are the babies of the league and will progress as time goes on.
Messes are always in there battling, however, with two exceptions (AC. Padgett and AC. Palmer) the team still give a wonderful demonstration that one could expect to see in rugger. Especially the wonderful tackling plays and plunges of LAC. Davey, who still believes he is playing defence on the soccer team. Anyway, Messes, do not be discouraged for your results have been encouraging.
90 Course really should be in a better position than the one they now show. Possibly LAC. Kehoe has been marked too frequently?
Servicing have shown up considerably better than last year led by AC. Gillard, LAC. Dormer, and AC. Julian. They are moulding into a fine team. With their superior height over the average team in the league this section with more passing and shooting practice should go places.
93 Course to date have not accomplished much to date. It is hopeful by the next issue of Hill Topics we shall be able to report better results.
“B” & “C” Flights, mainly because they lack recruits, are not doing as well as was expected, having such players as LAC. Quinn, AC. Reeves, and AC. Brooks from last season. Why not use some of the players from Station Armoury section and have more substitutes?
Police team have proved to be the gamest group of the players, even with their consistent losses. Even when Cpl. Greaves, the tallest player in the loop is around the basket the police cannot find the elusive loop. With a little less charging and more passing to “Lofty” Greaves, police should do better. “Lofty” wants all and sundry players to know that he is not a ladder, and therefore asks all to refrain from crawling up his back.
91 Course and Hospital teams are doing badly now, however if the sections players rally around the team, better results will automatically occur.

The table tennis tournament that commenced on Monday, Nov. 8th, had a total of fifty-two entrants. The opening games eliminated the budding hopefuls such as F/L. Wallace, P/O. Rootes, F/O. “Jock” Campbell, F/L. Chester, F/O. Spencer. By the time the first round was finished, the more polished player came into his own, but not before some had tussles, LAC. Green lost to LAC. Forbes, Cpl. Whitely lost to Sgt. Johnstone, and for those others that were eliminated they found the pace increasing. LAC. Forbes won through to one of the top brackets of semi-finals by defeating LAC. Chapman. F/O. Thomas showed brilliant form in defeating LAC. Devey to ultimate victory to win a semi-final berth. In the other semi-final position, LAC. Jessop lost to LAC. Philips, and LAC. Burns placed in the other semi-final bracket. After a hard fought match LAC. Forbes beat F/O. Thomas to win a place in the finals, and LAC. Burns defeated LAC. Philips. In the final game, the best three of five sets, LAC. Forbes won in three straight sets to be declared the winner of the first single tournament of the season.
A second tournament was held on November 25th. This time there were only 20 entries, however it included practically all the top-line racquet wielders. One very dark horse showed up in the person of AC. Rogers from W/T. section who defeated the winner of previous tournament, LAC. Forbes in two straight games.

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Page Sixteen HILL TOPICS December, 1943

Above the falls the wide stream’s path is made
Of striving cataract and steep cascade,
Which hurtling toward the awesome verge brook no delay-
And then the vast amazing sight
Of waters rushing o’er the height
And raising by their foaming might
A steaming crown of spray.

Far, far below upon the rocky floor
From dizzy heights the surging waters roar;
The sight of ages, but forever new-
And from below one can behold
A scene to awe the very bold,
The shaking crash of waters cold
And bows of rainbow hue.

What mighty strength and what colossal power!
About one hundred million tons an hour
Of blue-green water dashes o’er the falls,
Six million horsepower thunders down
The might of nature’s power to crown
Splitting the rocks of deepest brown,
A vision that enthrals.

Our Cousin’s falls a thousand feet are wide,
Three thousand feet is the Canadian side;-
And grandeur, beauty, power go hand in hand,
One-sixty feet they tower in height
Mantled by waters snowy white,
Like crystal in the sunshine bright
Glistening with rainbows in the light
And whether it be day or night
All the deep colours make a quite
Never-to-be-forgotten sight-
The pride of all the land!

An A.C.H.G. beseeched his section commander for three days’ leave. Asked for a reason, he explained that his wife had just been made a sergeant in the W.A.A.F.’s. “That’s very nice,” said the Flt.Lt., “but why should you get three days’ leave for you?” “Sir, said the airman earnestly, “I want to do something that every airman has dreamed of doing for the past twenty-five years.”

[Crossword Sketch)

1. He arranges dances, but not the one’s named after him. (3,6).
6. Is this the order to end the war? (5,4).
9. If looked at backwards they show a great deal.
10. To avoid, this, or the drill sergeant’s command backwards.
11. Observed.
12. Darwin’s ancestor?
14. They handle loads of trouble.
17. A shelter for the cockney, and his means of travel.
18. This is often shot backwards.

1. The pilot is on his way up.
2. Tells where the bomb drops.
3. Opened by the poet.
4. Frequently visited by the R.A.F.
5. Well-known kites going up.
7. Not a mirage, but the real thing seen looking up.
8. Is he one of the 14 across?
13. Should the maker of this be punished?
15. Large Crowd.
16. A very long time.


(1) Blonde job. (6) Mundi. (7) R.S.M. (9) Rub. (10) A.M.O.S. (11) Byes. (14) I.T.W. (16) M.O.I. (17) ‘Oping. (19) Right, left.

(1) Bomb aimer. (2) Own. (3) Drip. (4) Jerry. (5) Bomb sight. 8) Sue. (11) M.T.O. (12) Owing. (15) Boat. 18) Ice.

Low-hung the branches spread,
Embracing us in silver shadows,
We stood,
And loved,
In a moonlit dream,
In a mantle wrapped
In the misty air –
In Central Park not ten yards from the road
And the black, burnt bulk
Of Victoria there,
Gaunt and grim and broken and bare,
Sentinel hailing our world –
A world that’s dead
As the million sons
That she bore and hurled
To a useless death,
For a few . . .

Look not to the stars for answer;
Sigh not for the inaccessible skies.
Gaze down blind youth to your lover;
Look down
To the stars in her eyes . . .

New love, new life.

Oh hail, new world!
And slowly, slowly came the dawn;
But surely spread the rosy hue
Of sunrise, ‘till Victoria stood
With a fantastic grace,
Like some forgotten ruin
Of the timeless past,
When men hated and fought.
And from it rose in the misty sky,
Reaching high
And ever higher,
The eternal promise
Of a new day.

Young Yank officers, now stationed in England, have captivated the hearts of many comely English lasses, so they say. There is the story of one stalwart young American who met a beautiful lady at Blackpool one weekend and had quite a good time. As he bade her a tender farewell, the young lady’s eyes narrowed and she tentatively remarked, “How about a bit of change as a going away present?”
The Yank drew himself up to his full six-foot two. “Young woman,” he remarked sternly, “American officers never accept money from ladies.”

By the Education Officer

A word about the Canadian Committee
This body, initiated by the gift of money from an anonymous donor in England, has as its object the promotion of cultural relations between Canada and the United Kingdom and the spreading of a wider knowledge and better understanding of Canada, both at home and abroad.
With this object in view and seeing that the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan had brought men from Britain and all parts of the Empire to Canada, it made the R.A.F. stations in Canada its primary care and the chief recipients of its benefactions.
Week by week, and month by month regular supplies of periodicals and magazines are sent to messes and reading rooms. “Saturday Night”, “Maclean’s Magazine”, “Canadian Geographical Journal”, “Review of Music and Art”, “Canadian Nature”, “New World”, “National Home Monthly”, “The Listener”, and “London Calling” are among those that reach the messes and reading room at this station.
In addition about sixty new books including novels, poetry, travel and general information about Canada have been sent. These are to be found in the Station Library and are available to all personnel.
Each month a program of films arrives presenting Canadian scenes, Canadian ways of life, Canadian industry and Canada at play. A film dealing with Britain is always included.
The Canadian Committee have also presented the station with a set of reproductions of pictures by Canadian Artists and photographs of Canadian scenes. These now grace the recreation and reading rooms.
It is hoped that full use will be made of these provisions which should make possible for those, whose lot it is to linger here, to gain a very wide knowledge of Canada and her people.

Remarks have been passed on the heights of the paper-stands in the Reading Room.
The aim, of course, as readers of this magazine will appreciate, is to keep the reading of this station on a high level.

[Sketch Cartoon]



31 Bombing and Gunnery School, “Hill Topics Vol. 1 No. 2 December 1943,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed July 18, 2024, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/28871.

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